Few knew that the Crown Prince had a sweet tooth.
In his childhood, Pei Huaizhen had been fond of honey peaches produced in Shu, called Yan Zhi Cui—Rouge Crisp. The peaches were round and plump, with snow-white, delicate flesh, and a rich crimson blush at the tip, colored like rouge, hence the name.
Unfortunately, Shu was far from the capital. Even if a hundred peach trees were felled, after the journey—discarding the trees that died and the peaches that rotted—only three to five catties of fresh fruit would arrive in the capital.
The old ministers deemed it a waste of labor and resources, and after they jointly submitted a remonstrance, he never saw Yan Zhi Cui again.
Even when he grew up and firmly secured his position as Crown Prince, with countless officials vying to curry favor, speculating daily on his preferences, gifts flowing into the Eastern Palace like a stream—all without exception being gold, silver, women, and antiques.
No one remembered Yan Zhi Cui.
Fortunately, the peach in his memory, he had found it himself.
…
The daylight was bright, the room fully visible, dust motes dancing in the light with nowhere to hide.
Pei Huaizhen's fingertip pressed lightly, feeling the trembling beneath his finger pad, his voice soft as a spring breeze: "As they say, Qi gathers at the Shanzhong. The Shanzhong acupoint is where the body's vital energy flows through. The more it hurts when pressed, the more severe the stagnation of energy. Miss Xue is not a martial artist, yet the blockage at your Shanzhong is this severe—it can only mean you have been brooding, with pent-up sorrow lodged in your heart."
He coaxed her: "You mustn't be angry so often from now on."
Xue Qingqing's lashes trembled, her eyes already flooded with overwhelming shame and indignation.
She wanted to pull up the blanket, wanted to cover her body with her hands, but her hands were pinned above her head by a large palm, unable to move an inch.
So all she could do was curse him: "Beast! How—how dare you…"
Her voice was soft and weak, devoid of strength, and because she spoke too quickly, her chest rose and fell even more violently.
Pei Huaizhen's eyes darkened, and he let out a light scoff: "You see, angry again."
"But what can be done? This is only the beginning."
His fingertip wandered, settling on the Tianchi acupoint.
A short, sharp cry escaped Xue Qingqing's throat, her face flooding with an extreme burn of crimson, every inch of her skin blazing hot, even her slender foot arch tensing and burning.
"This is the Tianchi acupoint. Pressing it can reduce swelling and disperse lumps."
Pei Huaizhen explained to her in a soft voice: "Use the pad of your thumb to press and knead until you feel soreness and distension. In daily life, when you have nothing to do, you can learn to press it yourself."
"Miss Xue, do you feel soreness?" His tone was gentle as rain soaking the earth, full of concern.
Xue Qingqing closed her eyes in agony, turned her face away, and buried her features into the pillow.
Even now, she did not believe this man was truly trying to save her.
He was merely reluctant to completely tear off his mask of gentlemanly virtue and reveal his true nature at once.
At this point, what would happen next—Xue Qingqing knew full well.
Her resistance was not only useless, it might provoke him and bring danger to herself and her child.
Tears streamed down the corners of her eyes. As if accepting reality, Xue Qingqing stopped struggling and weakly closed her eyes.
In the long silence, the sky outside the window quietly turned overcast. Rain fell like silk threads, pattering with a pleasant sound.
The window had not been closed, and strands of rain blew in.
Two lines of sweet liquid arced through the air, splashing onto the corner of Pei Huaizhen's lips.
His expression did not change. He let the two wet trails hang on his thin lips, then quietly parted them: "Miss Xue, I have cleared your meridians. Do you feel at ease?"
Xue Qingqing still kept her eyes closed and did not answer him.
Even so, her gradually steadying breath and the fading flush on her skin directly revealed how her body felt at this moment.
She was comfortable.
Xue Qingqing bit her lip, tasting a shame even more extreme than before.
What was more infuriating than being violated by a man was the fact that she had gained benefit from that very violation.
"It's good that you're comfortable." Pei Huaizhen saw through her, easily guessing her thoughts, and sighed by her ear: "You didn't expect that I was truly only saving you, did you?"
Xue Qingqing remained still, her features still hidden in the pillow, but an uncontrollable blush crept up behind her ears.
Pei Huaizhen looked at that blush and laughed once.
He reached out, pulled up the blanket, and covered her with it, his voice clear and gentle: "The matter is done. I, Shen, will not disturb you further. Miss Xue, rest well."
Only when the sound of footsteps left the inner room and the rustling of the cloth curtain swaying faded did Xue Qingqing finally open her eyes.
The room was still the same room, the bed still the same bed.
But Xue Qingqing felt that everything had changed.
The pain that had tormented her for so long suddenly eased, but the price was completely surrendering her own boundaries.
She wanted to hate that man, yet her body felt a comfort so foreign to her.
Xue Qingqing felt like a lost person who had fallen into a warm swamp in the cold. She knew she was about to drown, yet in her dying moments she embraced the swamp, greedily clinging to the warmth of being gently enveloped.
When she came to her senses, she was at a loss, with no recourse.
The rain outside the window continued. Xue Qingqing stared blankly, numbly dazed.
Only when Little Tiger's cries appeared did she suddenly snap back to reality and pick up her child.
Looking at her son's tender cheeks, Xue Qingqing thought of how, moments ago, blinded by pain, she had entertained the thought of harming herself and entrusting her child to a stranger she had only recently met.
Now that her mind was clear, she regretted it so deeply she nearly bit her tongue off. She kissed the baby's little face incessantly, tears streaming down like rain: "Mother was wrong. Mother won't have such thoughts again. Mother will never abandon you."
She cradled the child in her arms and nursed him through her tears.
On the other side of the curtain, Pei Huaizhen stood at the door of the main hall, gazing at the dense rain outside.
The baby's crying did not last long, soon replaced by the little one's gulping sounds as he drank eagerly.
The moisture on Pei Huaizhen's lips had dried, the traces solidified into a transparent color.
Hearing the baby's swallowing sounds, he extended his tongue and licked the corner of his lips.
Sweet.
Very much like Crisp Rouge.
…
After Xue Qingqing finished nursing, her mind was hazy and her body utterly exhausted. After coaxing the child to sleep, she too fell into slumber.
When she woke again, the sky outside had darkened. The rain had stopped at some point, and the surroundings were silent and still, as if she were the only person left in the world.
Xue Qingqing instinctively reached for the child, but her hand found only empty space. Her heart instantly leaped into her throat. She struggled off the bed, slipped on her shoes, and hurried out.
In the main hall, the dim yellow candlelight flickered gently, casting a soft, mellow glow.
The cold, handsome man sat by the cradle, gently rocking it, softly singing: "Little swallow, in flowery clothes, every year spring comes here. I ask the swallow why you come, the swallow says—"
At this point, he looked puzzled, his voice trailing off, clearly unable to recall the rest of the lyrics.
Looking up and seeing Xue Qingqing, he smiled: "Miss Xue, you've come just in time. From here, how does it continue? This nursery rhyme—I've only heard you sing it; I've never heard it before."
Xue Qingqing stood in place, staring at him for a long moment without speaking. She walked over, picked up Little Tiger, and turned to head back to her room.
"Miss Xue."
Pei Huaizhen's voice was clear and crisp: "I made you some congee. It's kept warm in the pot. Would you like to try some?"
Xue Qingqing did not stop.
"If you don't eat it, I'll have no choice but to throw it away." In the flickering candlelight, the man's voice carried a hint of grievance. "I don't mind the effort, but it would be a shame to waste such fine white rice."
Xue Qingqing's footsteps halted.
A moment later, the two sat across from each other at the table.
Xue Qingqing picked up the bowl of congee, scooped up a spoonful of warm white porridge, and brought it to her mouth.
Pei Huaizhen watched her take small sips, finding it inexplicably endearing. An inadvertent smile surfaced on his lips as he asked, "Is it good?"
Xue Qingqing nodded.
Pei Huaizhen said with satisfaction, "As long as it tastes good."
It wasn't in vain that he had ruined three pots of rice before the fourth one didn't burn. If this frugal little widow found out, she'd probably be so angry she'd get clogged milk ducts and a fever again.
With that thought, Pei Huaizhen glanced at Xue Qingqing's neckline, noticing two damp patches seeping through her clothing. His Adam's apple moved slightly, and his gaze darkened.
Before she knew it, Xue Qingqing had finished half a bowl of white congee, breaking into a sweat.
Her complexion improved somewhat—no longer as deathly pale as during the day. Her eyes brightened a little, and she regained some strength.
But her expression was undeniably heavy.
Throughout the meal, she ate with a troubled mind, flashes of inner conflict crossing her eyes. Anyone could tell she was mulling something over.
It wasn't until the bowl was nearly empty that Xue Qingqing set it down and let out a long breath, as if she had finally made up her mind about something.
She turned to the man beside her, looking him straight in the eyes: "Young Master Shen, I have something to tell you."
Pei Huaizhen raised an eyebrow slightly, knowing what she was about to say, but still assumed a listening posture: "Miss Xue, please speak freely."
"To be honest, when I first rescued you, I didn't think much of you."
Xue Qingqing said: "Especially after learning you had amnesia, I worried you might be of unknown origins—perhaps an escaped convict or some kind of bandit who might one day repay kindness with enmity and harm me and my child. I wouldn't even know where to cry."
"But after spending time together, I could tell you're not a bad person."
Perhaps recalling the village chief's miserable state, Xue Qingqing paused and amended: "Not a bad person to me and my child."
Pei Huaizhen smiled, neither confirming nor denying.
"Especially when I was at my lowest, when I needed someone most, you were always by my side. Even though I was wary of you, I couldn't help but feel grateful."
Xue Qingqing gave a bitter smile: "So even I don't know when I came to accept you in my heart, treating you as a trusted friend, even considering entrusting my child to you."
"I may be poor, but I truly believe that in life, nothing matters more than the bonds between people."
"Gold and silver are wonderful, and power and status are wonderful too, but those things aren't enough to fill a person's heart. Otherwise, why would the emperor seek immortality?"
Pei Huaizhen unconsciously fixed his gaze, studying Xue Qingqing seriously.
Under the flickering candlelight, the woman's eyes were clear and bright, her pupils luminous: "Only affection can satisfy a person, bringing joy and happiness from the depths of the heart—familial love, romantic love, friendship—all of these belong to that category."
"Young Master Shen, I truly value the feelings between us."
Xue Qingqing's expression turned pained as she choked out, "I don't want to hate you, and I don't want things between us to become complicated."
"So let's pretend that what happened today never occurred."
Xue Qingqing lowered her head, scooping up the last two grains of rice from the bottom of her bowl and bringing them to her mouth, chewing slowly. "You and I—let's remain as we were before."
The candlelight cast a dim glow, the atmosphere silent, broken only by the lingering patter of rain in the courtyard.
In the stillness, Pei Huaizhen blinked, a shimmering light passing through his eyes as he asked in a puzzled tone, "What has already happened is fact—why should it be treated as if it never did?"
Xue Qingqing was taken aback, never expecting such a blunt refusal. She lifted her face and stared at him, dazed.
"The feelings you speak of are precious, but they may not be the kind I desire." Pei Huaizhen held the woman's gaze and said plainly:
"Qingniang, I am fond of you."
"I want you."