Night fell, and the small courtyard was enveloped in stillness. The air carried the fresh scent of summer vegetation, while insects chirped faintly from the corners of the walls.
On the bamboo couch, Pei Huaizhen opened his eyes, his gaze filled with the dim, flickering candlelight.
In the hazy glow of the candle, the woman sat by the bedside, her clear apricot-shaped eyes watching him with full wariness.
Meeting those eyes, Pei Huaizhen inexplicably recalled a fawn he had hunted in the Shanglin Garden when he was young.
"How do you feel?" Xue Qingqing had been sitting, but when she saw him open his eyes, she silently rose and stepped back a few paces.
Pei Huaizhen furrowed his brow and parted his lips with difficulty. "So thirsty."
Xue Qingqing paused, then turned to fetch a bowl of water and extended it to him.
Having just woken, Pei Huaizhen had no strength at all. After a couple of attempts, his arm simply would not lift.
Looking at his parched lips, Xue Qingqing wrestled with herself for a moment before finally sitting back down. She slipped one hand behind his head, gently cradling his neck, while the other brought the rim of the bowl to his lips, tilting it slightly.
Pei Huaizhen opened his mouth, and with the bob of his Adam's apple, the water level in the bowl gradually lowered. His breath came out heavy and hot, spilling over the roots of Xue Qingqing's fingers as she held the bowl.
Feeling the ticklish sensation on her skin, Xue Qingqing frowned uncomfortably.
Seeing the water nearly gone, she moved the bowl away and gently lowered the hand supporting the back of his head, sliding it out from beneath the pillow.
"More?" she asked.
Pei Huaizhen shook his head faintly, weakly closing his eyes. His hand unconsciously moved to the wound on his forehead.
Xue Qingqing had applied hemostatic powder to the wound and wrapped it in a layer of gauze. It had already scabbed over, with only a hint of red seeping through the bandage.
Xue Qingqing looked at his haggard appearance. Compared to during the day, the fear in her heart had faded considerably.
She said, "I remember before you passed out, you mentioned seeing figures flashing through your mind. Are those figures still there?"
"They are."
Pei Huaizhen's brow furrowed tightly. He swallowed and forced himself to continue: "But they're very fragmented. I can only make out their silhouettes, not their faces."
Xue Qingqing's heartbeat quickened involuntarily. She silently recited "thank heavens" three times—this uninvited guest was finally showing signs of recovering his memory.
"What are those figures doing?" she prompted softly.
Pei Huaizhen's breathing grew noticeably heavier as he spoke slowly: "They're gathered around a bed."
"On the bed is a woman, and a baby. A lot of bloody water is being carried out."
"A baby?" Xue Qingqing was a bit confused, feeling that this scene was clearly a woman giving birth. She continued, "And then?"
"Those people take the baby from the woman's arms and hand it to an old woman."
"The old woman hides the baby away and won't allow the woman to see him again."
"The woman keeps crying…"
At this point, his brow twitched suddenly, the fingertips resting on his forehead turning white, his breath trembling.
Xue Qingqing quickly said, "Alright, don't think about it anymore. Go back to sleep."
"Mm."
The candlelight flickered gently, casting a soft, veil-like glow over the room.
Xue Qingqing listened to the man's breathing gradually even out, her gaze settling on his face.
Even though she had grown accustomed to it, Xue Qingqing still couldn't help but marvel—this person's appearance was truly exquisite.
Not just handsome—exquisite.
Looking closely, the bones of his face were clearly defined. Whether his brow bone or the bridge of his nose, all the lines were sharp and angular. Yet he was blessed with fair, cool-toned skin, a pair of peach-blossom eyes, and lips that naturally curved upward at the corners. When he looked at you, there was warmth in his gaze—it was all too easy to be misled into thinking him simple and harmless.
But how could a simple person end up falling off a cliff for no reason?
Xue Qingqing realized belatedly that she had been wrong from the very start.
She was even beginning to feel uncertain whether this man was truly suffering from amnesia.
The candle flame leaped suddenly, and Xue Qingqing shuddered, startled by her own thoughts.
She wiped the cold sweat from her forehead and muttered to herself, "No, that can't be. Memory can't lie… If he were putting on an act, then what could he possibly want from me?"
Money? She didn't have any—and besides, he didn't look like a man of poverty.
Beauty? There were plenty of women more beautiful than her. Would a widow who had already borne a child be worth his elaborate performance?
She thought it over and over, but couldn't figure it out.
Outside, dew dripped from the eaves. The night had grown deep.
Xue Qingqing decided to stop mulling it over. She rose and went to the inner room to sleep, still tucking the dagger beneath her pillow before lying down.
…
The next day, the sun rose in the east, and birds chirped merrily.
For some unknown reason, Little Tiger had been crying nonstop since he opened his eyes. He refused his milk, his little face flushed red from weeping.
Xue Qingqing felt him all over—no fever, no bloating. He was simply crying his heart out.
Afraid he might choke on his sobs, she held him in her arms and paced from the inner room to the main hall, then back from the main hall to the inner room, repeating the cycle over and over while soothing him in a gentle voice.
It was no use.
Just as Xue Qingqing was growing frantic with worry, the man's gentle voice reached her ears—"Miss Xue, let me try."
Pei Huaizhen had already woken. His face was pale and haggard, the bandage around his forehead having come loose during sleep. His dark, soft hair fell in slightly disheveled strands, brushing lightly against the wound.
Beneath her lashes, her gaze was so soft it could practically drip with honey.
Xue Qingqing cast a glance at him and said coolly, "No need. Thank you for your kindness, Young Master Shen."
Right now, she wished the child were eight yards away from him—how could she possibly hand the baby over to him?
She continued pacing back and forth for a while longer. Her arms ached, and her calves were about to give out, yet Little Tiger showed no sign of stopping his crying.
She was almost tempted to kneel down and beg the little one to stop.
"That's not how you hold him—he's uncomfortable."
Pei Huaizhen said, "Miss Xue, your strength is light and your arms are slender. When you tire, you tend to adjust your hold, which makes him feel insecure."
Xue Qingqing was too exhausted to even muster a retort.
She let out a resigned sigh, then walked over to Pei Huaizhen and handed Little Tiger to him, saying crossly, "You do it."
Pei Huaizhen took the wailing infant. His arms were broad, and the tiny baby in his embrace looked no bigger than a fava bean.
He held the child steady with one arm while gently patting the swaddle with the other.
Before long, the crying stopped.
Xue Qingqing watched the scene and suddenly felt a wave of weariness wash over her.
Whose child was this, really?
"An infant's aura is pure—they naturally gravitate toward those who treat them with sincerity."
Pei Huaizhen casually snapped his fingers to amuse Little Tiger, his voice light: "The child is so young, and he's already accepted me. Yet some people refuse to."
Xue Qingqing pretended not to understand, turning her face away.
Just then, a knock came at the courtyard gate, and a middle-aged woman's voice carried into the main hall: "Qingniang, is Qingniang home?"
Xue Qingqing recognized the voice at once—it was Auntie Li from next door.
She quickly took the child from Pei Huaizhen's arms and placed him in the cradle, then dragged and shoved Pei Huaizhen into the inner room, lowering her voice: "If anyone finds you, I'll never hear the end of it. Stay hidden in there and don't make a sound."
Glancing at his leg, which had yet to fully heal, she frowned and added, "And don't climb up on the beams either."
"Alright." Pei Huaizhen chuckled softly. "I'll do as you say."
Xue Qingqing felt deeply unsettled by that laugh. She let the curtain fall and turned to open the door for Auntie Li.
The curtain swayed gently. Pei Huaizhen lowered his head and looked at the ring of red marks around his wrist.
Warm, as if a trace of fragrance lingered there.
He savored the thought, then chided softly, "Silly girl—at a time like this, she's not afraid of me."
Afraid he might be mistaken for her illicit lover.
The sound of the courtyard gate closing faded, followed by footsteps entering the main hall.
"Qingniang, about that wet nurse you asked me to look into—I've made inquiries. There's none in our village, and I doubt there's one in the neighboring villages either. Women just massage themselves at home; nobody hires someone specifically for it."
Auntie Li had a loud voice—even the sparrows on the gate could hear her.
Xue Qingqing instinctively glanced at the cloth curtain of the inner room, her cheeks suddenly flushing crimson. She said in a small voice, "Please keep your voice down a bit."
Auntie Li: "Oh, what's there to worry about? There's no one else in this house but us two."
Xue Qingqing bit her lip and said nothing.
Auntie Li continued, "But I did hear that fifteen li away there's a village called Sour Jujube Village, and there's an old woman there who used to work as a wet nurse for a wealthy family in town. She ought to know something about it."
At the mention of "Sour Jujube Village," Xue Qingqing's expression stiffened.
Her natal family was in Sour Jujube Village.
Thinking of the dark, hopeless life she'd left behind, Xue Qingqing refused without a second thought: "Then let's forget it. Fifteen li of mountain roads—I can't very well carry the child over the hills. Thank you for your help, Auntie Li."
Auntie Li sighed: "We're both women—I understand your hardships. Anyway, my Mang Wazi is back home now, and it's not the busy farming season. He's got nothing to do, so I'll have him make the trip. He can say his elder sister at home needs help and ask if the woman would be willing to come over."
Mang Wazi was Auntie Li's only son. He'd gone off for military service two years ago and had only returned a few days ago, just turned seventeen.
Xue Qingqing said awkwardly, "I'd feel terrible about that. It's such a long way—a round trip would take the whole day."
Auntie Li waved her hand: "A strapping young lad—what's he afraid of? Consider it exercise. It's settled then. I'll have him go over and ask tomorrow."
With that, Auntie Li made to leave.
Xue Qingqing called her back, went to the courtyard to fetch a sickle, cut a fatty piece from the hanging cured meat, tied it with straw rope, and pressed it into Auntie Li's hands: "Take this home. Mang Wazi is still growing—make him something good to nourish him."
"Take it back! Take it back! I don't want it!" Auntie Li protested with her words, but her movements weren't so decisive, and in the end, she accepted the cured meat with half-hearted reluctance.
Xue Qingqing saw her to the door. As they parted, Auntie Li added, "Oh, I just remembered—there's something I need to warn you about. I heard a big group of soldiers came to town recently, patrolling the streets all day long. It's terrifying. Whatever you do, don't go to town to sell your vegetables. If you run into those people's bad side, who knows what misfortune might befall you."
Xue Qingqing was puzzled: "Soldiers?"
Auntie Li nodded: "Strange, isn't it? This little place of ours has seen several waves of soldiers this year. Can't be anything good. Stay out of their way if you can."
Xue Qingqing responded, "I understand. Thank you for the reminder, Auntie."
No sooner had she spoken than Little Tiger began crying again in the main room.
Auntie Li said with a pained heart, "Poor child. He's missing his father, wanting his father to hold him."
Xue Qingqing thought of how peacefully her son rested in "Shen Zhuo's" arms, and lowered her head, the tips of her ears flushing red with an inexplicable sense of guilt.
Auntie Li assumed she had misspoken and struck a sore spot, so she didn't linger and went home carrying her meat.
Xue Qingqing, wearing a guilty expression, returned to the main room and picked up her son, murmuring softly, "You little rascal, do you even remember what your father looks like?"
"Qingniang—" The man's gentle voice suddenly came from behind her.
Xue Qingqing shuddered and turned around.
Morning light streamed through the doorway, bright and clean.
Pei Huaizhen stood in the light, arms open toward her, his features warm and gentle like polished jade: "Let me soothe him."
Xue Qingqing took a step back. "No need. The child is still young—if he's soothed too often, he won't even know who his real father is."
She paused, then cooled her voice: "Also, don't call me Qingniang. We're not familiar enough for that."
Pei Huaizhen fell silent, his expression filled with the loneliness of one deeply wounded.
After a long moment, he let out a bitter laugh. "Fine. If you don't want me to, I won't."
He lifted his gaze, his peach-blossom eyes shimmering with watery light, gazing at Xue Qingqing with reproachful melancholy. "After all, in Miss Xue's eyes, everyone else is good—only I am not."
He sighed softly. "Others may call you that, but I alone cannot."
Xue Qingqing was stunned.
How could this man conjure up so many sticky, clinging implications from just one sentence she'd said?
It was plainly an ordinary remark—how did it come out of his mouth sounding like flirtation?
Her husband's memorial tablet was sitting right behind him.
Xue Qingqing steadied her breath and spoke calmly: "Young Master Shen, let's have this out between us."
"I've been mindful of your virtues before, thinking that saying certain things would be disrespectful to us both. But I can no longer afford such consideration. Young Master Shen, I don't know whether you do it intentionally or not, knowingly or unknowingly, but many of the things you say make me uncomfortable. I saved you, tended to you closely, and shared a roof with you—but that does not mean I harbor any other feelings for you."
Xue Qingqing had thought it through.
A man and a woman alone under one roof, and this man in the prime of his vigor—sparks were bound to fly.
Moreover, he had lost all memory of his past. The first person he saw when he opened his eyes was her, and his life was almost entirely filled with her. So it was understandable that he had grown dependent on her, mistaking that dependence for love.
But she could not indulge him.
Xue Qingqing looked at the man before her, her gaze firm and unyielding: "So I hope that from now on, you'll keep some boundaries with me. Don't say things that invite misunderstanding, and don't develop any other improper feelings toward me."
Pei Huaizhen's steps suddenly staggered, his frame swaying.
Xue Qingqing assumed he was merely shaken by her words and paid it no mind, only asking, "Can you agree to what I've said?"
Pei Huaizhen shook his head, his eyes full of confusion: "Strange—are you speaking, Miss Xue? I can't seem to hear what you're saying."
Xue Qingqing was taken aback.
The next moment, Pei Huaizhen raised a hand and pressed it to his head in pain: "No—my head hurts terribly. I think I'm about to faint again."