The candlelight flickered drowsily, and time in the room seemed to freeze in an instant.
A moth fluttered its wings, resolutely throwing itself into the flame with a harsh crackling sound, a faint smell of scorching spreading through the air.
Xue Qingqing's expression was dazed, her almond-shaped eyes wide with shock, fixed unblinkingly on the calm, indifferent man before her.
She still had an unswallowed grain of rice in her mouth, now stuck in her throat, neither up nor down.
The atmosphere congealed into a strange, unresolved tension.
At that moment, Pei Huaizhen reached out, his fingertip brushing against the corner of her lips, intending to wipe away the soup stain there.
Xue Qingqing's soul snapped back into place. She stood up and retreated several steps, still staring at him in shock, shaking her head incoherently: "No… this isn't right, this shouldn't be, why would you… how could you?"
"How could I have fallen for you?"
Pei Huaizhen let out a sigh, speaking with a hint of grievance: "Miss Xue, I am no beast. These hands of mine can only touch the one I love."
He raised his hand before her eyes.
The candlelight stretched the outline of his hand—the back pale and slender, fingers long and jade-like, the picture of a man raised in comfort.
Had those fingertips not lingered so long on her body today, Xue Qingqing would never have noticed that the pads of his fingers and his palm were actually covered in a layer of hard calluses, invisible at first glance.
He was never the scholar she had imagined; his refinement had always been nothing but a facade.
As if reliving the trembling on the bed, Xue Qingqing's lips unconsciously began to quiver. At a moment when she should have been indignant, her voice came out as faint as a mosquito's buzz: "How long have we even known each other? Why would you have such feelings for me?"
Pei Huaizhen let out an "Oh," and mentioned casually: "Did you know your late husband for very long?"
His eyes narrowed slightly as he recalled: "If I remember correctly, this morning you mentioned buying your freedom for fifteen taels of silver. From that, I can deduce that your late husband must have only met you once. After taking a liking to you, he came to propose, and without any ceremony, brought you home. Am I right?"
Xue Qingqing's face turned pale, and her breathing quickened involuntarily.
Pei Huaizhen continued: "You met him only once, spent barely a single day together, and then you became husband and wife, shared a bed, conceived, and bore a child."
"The time we have spent together far exceeds what you had with him. In terms of affection, how am I inferior to him?" A faint cold glint flashed in Pei Huaizhen's eyes as he gazed at Xue Qingqing, a smile on his lips:
"He could do it, so why can't I?"
The shock on Xue Qingqing's face gradually subsided, replaced by deep confusion.
She looked at the man before her, whose appearance and bearing were flawless in every way, and instead of answering his question, she asked with genuine bewilderment: "Young Master Shen, what is it about me that you like?"
"With your family background, you must have met many outstanding women."
"I'm just a village woman—dull in temperament, boring as a person, and I've even been married and had a child. What on earth is there about me that could move your heart?"
Xue Qingqing didn't want to belittle herself, but she was truly perplexed. Everything she said was an insurmountable reality.
"Miss Xue." Pei Huaizhen called her softly, his gaze lingering on her for a long time, infatuated.
Looking at her slightly furrowed brows, her snow-white cheeks framed by dark hair, his Adam's apple moved slightly, and he suddenly parted his lips: "You don't know how beautiful you are."
To stay by this young widow's side, Pei Huaizhen had told many lies.
But this sentence was truer than true.
He was a man who never concealed his desires—whether his desire for the throne or his desire for flesh.
He wanted Xue Qingqing. He had wanted her for a long time.
If one could paint the thoughts of a man's heart onto a scroll, every single one of his thoughts would be worthy of being listed as a banned book.
The room was terrifyingly silent.
After a long while, a laugh appeared.
Xue Qingqing's laugh.
Listening to the man's blunt words, looking at those affectionate peach-blossom eyes, her expression was filled with sorrow.
"So in the end, Young Master Shen only took a fancy to this body of mine."
"But do you know, this isn't what I originally looked like? My original appearance was that of a sallow-faced, scrawny little girl with a head full of messy hair. If you had seen me like that, you would never have harbored the slightest improper thought."
"The looks I have now were cultivated bit by bit by my husband."
Xue Qingqing's smile turned bitter: "Young Master Shen, do you know why I saved you?"
"Because ever since my husband passed away, I couldn't stop thinking—if someone had saved him back then, would he not have had to die?"
"When I saw you on the brink of death, I wondered—whose husband were you? Whose father were you? If you lost your life, would there be a woman at home, grieving just as bitterly as I did?"
Xue Qingqing's voice choked up: "It was only by stringing all those causes together that I ended up saving you. I can tell you this—if my husband were still alive, the day I saw you, I would have turned and walked away without a second glance."
Pei Huaizhen was silent. Suddenly, he raised his eyes and glanced toward the altar table.
The dark, lacquered ancestral tablets stood silently, watching the farce unfolding before them.
Gazing at the simple names inscribed upon them, Pei Huaizhen thought to himself: Thank you. Your timing in dying was most opportune.
Xue Qingqing, immersed in her grief, failed to notice his subtle reaction. She shook her head continuously. "Young Master Shen, nothing in this world is more precious to me than the bond between my husband and me. Were it not for Little Tiger being so young, I fear I would have followed him long ago."
She wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes, her words resolute. "Whether Lu Fang is alive or dead, he is the only husband I will ever have in this life, and I will never do anything that brings shame upon him."
"Young Master Shen, I apologize, but I am afraid I cannot respond to your affections."
Xue Qingqing turned and walked back to her room, her steps decisive. Her slender silhouette, framed by the flickering candlelight, appeared remarkably steadfast.
Pei Huaizhen watched her figure disappear behind the curtain. The drape swayed, casting a rippling shadow upon the floor.
A normal man would surely feel disheartened at such a moment.
But Pei Huaizhen was not a normal man.
Just as learning of his own brother's assassination attempt had only drawn a cold sneer from him, hearing this woman's declaration of loyalty to her deceased husband merely made him raise an eyebrow. His heart remained undisturbed.
No, that wasn't quite right.
He was, perhaps, even more intrigued.
…
The entire following day, Xue Qingqing did not leave her inner chamber. Only when the sun had set and darkness filled the room did she sense that the man in the main hall had settled down for the night. She quietly slipped out of her room, hoping to get some fresh air in the courtyard.
But the moment her hand lifted the curtain, a tall figure pressed down upon her, closing in and trapping her between the edge of the bed and his arms.
"Finally ready to move?"
Pei Huaizhen let out a scoff, his tone laced with barely concealed restlessness. "Not hiding from me anymore?"
He was too close. Even through the darkness of night, Xue Qingqing could feel the heat radiating from his body. She wanted to retreat, but there was nowhere left to go. She steadied herself, forcing calm into her voice. "What do you want?"
After that window paper had been torn through, the dynamic between them had shifted. Before, they had been savior and saved, wrapped in polite formalities and courteous pretense. Now, things had become far more straightforward.
So straightforward that nothing remained but raw, primal desire.