Pei Huaizhen leaned down, his body casting a heavy shadow that completely enveloped the frail form of the woman before him.
He lowered his arm and picked up the dagger from the floor.
The dagger had slipped from Xue Qingqing's sleeve just as she had bent over to check the wound on his leg.
Pei Huaizhen looked at the dagger in his hand. It was crude and plain, clearly the work of a hunter with little to no taste.
He thought to himself: *How ugly.*
"Are you truly that afraid?"
Pei Huaizhen lifted his head, gazing at the trembling woman in the dim light. His voice was gentle, as if he were soothing a frightened young animal.
Xue Qingqing stared at the dagger, her body shaking involuntarily. She forced herself to remain calm and said, "I thought… what if they discovered you and tried to take me away, separating me from my child? I… I would have fought them to the death."
Before she could finish, tears fell like rain.
She was truly terrified.
If it were just herself, she wouldn't care; she had lived long enough. But she had a nursing infant to consider. Her situation was like a spider's silk hanging from a withered branch, unable to withstand the slightest disturbance. Anyone who happened along could bring utter ruin upon her.
Xue Qingqing’s tears flowed faster. Confusion and fear nearly overwhelmed her, but still wanting to preserve a shred of dignity, she raised her hand to cover her disheveled face.
Pei Huaizhen had already returned to his indifferent expression, silently watching the weeping woman.
In his life, he had seen many women.
Daughters of great families, ladies of noble birth—glamorous, elegant women who adorned themselves with silk and jewels, impeccable from head to toe, their behavior beyond reproach.
This was the first time he had experienced a woman weeping before him, baring her vulnerability so plainly.
Pei Huaizhen loathed the weak, but unexpectedly, he did not seem to loathe the woman before him quite so much.
"No one will separate you from your child," Pei Huaizhen said softly. "It is late. You should sleep, Miss Xue. When you wake, tomorrow will be a fine day."
Xue Qingqing gradually regained her composure. Wiping away her tears, she returned to her usual soft and gentle demeanor, though her voice remained slightly hoarse as she asked quietly, "Do you think… they will come back?"
Pei Huaizhen replied, "They won't." The scene of the soldiers entering the house was something he had long anticipated.
When a white jade thumb ring enters the market, there is a chance it will be discovered by his people, but just as likely that it will be found by his enemies.
However, he was a man skilled at weighing risks. His enemies wouldn't necessarily believe he was bold enough to brazenly let a personal item circulate, whereas his own people knew his temperament perfectly and would know exactly where to start looking.
Pei Huaizhen was a gambler, but he never made a move without certainty.
Just as when he had hidden in the thickets for three days, observing the many passersby and growing weary of their worldly or greedy faces, he had risked bleeding to death rather than asking a single one of them for help.
By hiding, he might only lose a leg; by trusting the wrong person, he would most likely lose his life.
Until Xue Qingqing appeared.
Pei Huaizhen knew at first sight that this woman would save him.
Bland, soft, kind, and dull.
Xue Qingqing was like any other virtuous wife and mother in the world. As long as he showed her his wounds, she would compassionately offer everything, even if the one before her was a wolf merely hiding its claws for a moment.
Merciful as a Bodhisattva, and hopelessly foolish.
"It's fine. If they come again, I just won't make a sound. I'll pretend no one is home," Xue Qingqing said, wiping her tears. She used her head and came up with a method she thought was clever.
Pei Huaizhen said nothing and handed the dagger back to her.
Xue Qingqing took it and tucked it under her pillow. She then helped Pei Huaizhen to the outer room, assisted him onto the couch, and covered him with a quilt. "Sleep well, Young Master Shen," she said softly.
Pei Huaizhen nodded. From his lower vantage point, he could see her eyelashes, still damp from tears, like two small fans that made one want to reach out and touch them.
Xue Qingqing turned and went back to the inner room, and Pei Huaizhen closed his eyes.
Reviewing the events of the night, he concluded that the officers who came to the door could be ruled out as agents of his enemies. Their methods were too sloppy and mindless, more like a half-baked job by some local yamen office.
Not wasting much more thought on that, Pei Huaizhen quickly shifted his attention.
As he did, his entire mind focused on the image of Xue Qingqing's tear-streaked face.
Pei Huaizhen had been the Crown Prince since birth. He had overseen the state at age nine, and at thirteen, he had debated a crowd of scholars in court to push forward the process of weakening the vassal states.
He had seen every kind of old fox there was.
Before him, Xue Qingqing was as transparent as glass.
Understanding her thoughts was as easy as reaching into a bag to grab something.
But upon reflection, Pei Huaizhen realized he had missed one important detail.
A simple woman wouldn't have the foresight to know someone would visit in the middle of the night. If that dagger was tucked into her sleeve the moment she got out of bed, it must have been hidden under the pillow beforehand, in a place where it could be reached instantly.
So, before that, who was she using the dagger to guard against?
Pei Huaizhen's thoughts paused for a moment, and he suddenly let out a soft laugh.
There were only three people in this house; it couldn't possibly be for the nursing babe.
He had been careless. He was so focused on the lowered eyes of the Bodhisattva that he had forgotten even a Bodhisattva could glare like a fierce guardian.
***
The next day, the sun rose, a hazy mist shrouded the village, the mountains were lush green, and the sound of roosters rose and fell.
Xue Qingqing woke up early to feed the chickens and the donkey, sweep the yard, and start the fire.
Wild greens were everywhere after the rain. Without even stepping out the door, Xue Qingqing gathered a large handful of wild amaranth from the corner of the wall.
She washed and chopped the amaranth, mixed it with flour, sprinkled some salt, and steamed them into amaranth dumplings.
The dumplings cooked quickly. When Xue Qingqing lifted the lid, billowing white steam poured from the pot, bringing a fragrant aroma.
Just as she was about to pick the dumplings into a basket, the sound of a baby crying came from inside the house. The child must have been whimpering for a while without getting a response, as the crying was now particularly loud.
Xue Qingqing had to drop her work and run back inside.
The summer morning light shone into the room, illuminating a clean cloth shirt.
A young man was holding the baby, sitting on the bamboo couch with his head down, gently rocking his arms.
The shirt was a light sky blue with fresh stitching. Xue Qingqing had made it for her late husband before he died, but he had never worn it.
She didn't want the man she had rescued to wear old clothes that carried her husband's scent, so for the past few days, Young Master Shen had been wearing this new garment.
Xue Qingqing should have been used to seeing it by now.
Yet, in this moment of an ordinary day, she was momentarily dazed, and the words slipped out— "Husband Lu?"
Pei Huaizhen looked up at her, as if he hadn't heard clearly, and gave a soft smile. "What did you call me, Miss Xue?"
Only then did Xue Qingqing snap back to her senses, a dense, prickly pain swelling in her chest.
It wasn't her husband.
She looked up at her late husband's memorial tablet and said wearily, "It's nothing."
Then she looked down at her son, who was gradually quieting in the man's arms. "Did the crying wake you, Young Master Shen?"
Pei Huaizhen replied, "Not really. I'd had enough sleep. I heard him and went in to bring him out."
Having just woken up, there was still a hint of fatigue in his eyes. His handsome features seemed even more delicate, making him look more like a scholar.
"The swaddling is dry," Pei Huaizhen said, looking at the infant in his arms with a soft gaze. He snapped his fingers to amuse the child and said tonelessly, "He must be hungry."
Xue Qingqing stepped forward and reached out to take her son.
The two were very close. Xue Qingqing could smell the faint scent of medicine on the man. As she took the child into her arms, her palm inadvertently brushed against the back of his hand.
After all, Xue Qingqing had lived a life as a modern person; she didn't think much of this level of "skin contact."
She just wanted to feed the child quickly.
Since she was in her own home and the door was shut tight, after taking Little Tiger, Xue Qingqing hummed a few soft words to him. Then, out of habit, she instinctively reached for her collar.
As her fingertips touched the fabric, she realized what she was doing. Her movements froze instantly, and she hurriedly turned around and walked quickly into the inner room.
Pei Huaizhen watched Xue Qingqing’s fleeing back, then lowered his eyes to the back of his hand.
Her scent seemed to linger there.
Damp with sweat, fragrant and trembling.
***
Once Xue Qingqing finished nursing and came back out, she busied herself with changing Pei Huaizhen's bandages.
The medicine on his leg needed to be changed daily. It was impractical to go back and forth to town, so Xue Qingqing had specially taken a two-week supply of medicine to change it herself.
In the past, when Lu Fang went hunting in the mountains and had minor scrapes, she was always the one to handle them. Because of this, she was quite adept at changing dressings.
The only thing she found difficult was that, due to his trip to the roof beams to hide from the officers last night, Young Master Shen's wound had clearly reopened quite a bit. Fresh blood was seeping out, and the healing time would have to be extended.
Thinking of her own high roof beams, Xue Qingqing didn't say anything, but internally she grew a few degrees more wary of the man before her.
He had accessories he could pawn for fifty taels at a whim, and he was skilled enough to move up and down roof beams with a broken leg. No matter how she looked at it, he didn't seem like an ordinary person.
At the very least, he had to be the son of a wealthy landlord.
Xue Qingqing had been a village girl for eighteen years; in reality, her imagination for wealthy ancient people only went that far.
Perhaps because her thoughts were heavy, her touch was also heavy.
Pei Huaizhen let out a soft hiss of pain.
Xue Qingqing looked up at him, her eyes full of helplessness. "Does it hurt?"
Pei Huaizhen nodded.
"Then I'll be gentler," Xue Qingqing said.
She focused her expression and lightened her hand, applying the medicine to the wound like the touch of a dragonfly on water. As she moved her wrist, her beautiful brows furrowed slightly.
She was completely unaware that the man's direct gaze was falling squarely upon her.
Pei Huaizhen watched the young widow's serious expression with interest, then slowly let his gaze drift to her earlobes, her neck, her fingertips, her wrist…
"Miss Xue, do you have any safflower oil in the house?" Pei Huaizhen suddenly asked.
Xue Qingqing replied, "I do."
Though she didn't know what he wanted it for, she went straight to the inner room, found the safflower oil, and handed it to Pei Huaizhen.
Pei Huaizhen took it, but then handed it back to her.
Xue Qingqing was confused, not understanding what he meant.
Pei Huaizhen looked at her visibly red and swollen wrist. "It hurts, doesn't it?"
Xue Qingqing looked down and finally remembered that while sweeping the yard earlier, she seemed to have accidentally sprained her wrist. But there were so many chores to do that she had simply gotten used to the pain and forgotten about it.
"It's no matter, it'll be fine in a couple of days," Xue Qingqing said, looking down and rubbing her swollen wrist. Her long lashes drooped as she whispered, "This stuff is quite expensive…"
Pei Huaizhen pressed his lips together and said no more. He pulled out the stopper of the bottle, poured a bit of the oil into his palm, and then patiently rubbed his hands together to warm it. He reached out and directly took hold of the woman's slender wrist.
Their skin met, a warmth that felt unfamiliar.
Xue Qingqing was like a hedgehog with its quills up, instinctively wanting to pull her hand away.
But though the man looked frail, his hands were strong, with veins faintly visible beneath the skin.
"If you don't reduce the swelling now, you won't be able to lift your hand tomorrow."
Pei Huaizhen gently held her hand, using his warmed palm to repeatedly massage the swollen area. His voice was soft and persuasive. "If it were just yourself, it wouldn't matter, but if you are injured, who will look after the child, and who will look after me?"
His voice was low and pleasant, but to Xue Qingqing’s ears, it felt awkward no matter what.
With her face gradually heating up until it was bright red, she endured the intense discomfort and stammered, "I… I can do it myself."
"Shh, don't move."
Pei Huaizhen didn't stop, focusing on massaging her to ensure every drop of the oil seeped into the skin.
From Xue Qingqing’s angle, she could see the young man's long lashes and his slightly pursed lips, his expression exceptionally serious.
Xue Qingqing had to suppress the urge to run away, telling herself: *It's just applying medicine. He isn't trying to take advantage of you on purpose. What's there to be embarrassed about?*
Besides, hadn't she also applied medicine to him?
Thinking this way made Xue Qingqing feel much better, though the redness and heat on her face still hadn't faded.
She didn't know how long he massaged her, but finally, he finished.
The moment Pei Huaizhen withdrew his hand, Xue Qingqing took three steps back, turning her face away to avoid looking at him. She stammered, "Let… let your wound air out for a bit before bandaging it. I… I'll go get breakfast."
Pei Huaizhen chuckled. "Alright."
Xue Qingqing practically ran away.
Her wrist, thoroughly soaked in the medicinal oil, felt hot and tingly.
***
For the rest of the day, whether Xue Qingqing was washing clothes, cooking, doing dishes, or sweeping, she felt a gaze on her back.
But whenever she turned around, she saw nothing.
Xue Qingqing was getting creeped out, thinking her dead husband was jealous and his ghost was floating around the yard being angry with her.
She specifically cut off a piece of the New Year's cured meat, steamed it, and offered it before her late husband's memorial tablet, muttering in her heart: *Alright, alright, don't be so petty. He was just helping me apply some oil, it's not like I lost a limb. But I'm still happy you came back to see me.*
After that, whenever she felt the gaze, Xue Qingqing felt at ease and went about her business. After all, her husband wouldn't harm her.
In the blink of an eye, night fell, and Plum Blossom Village was silent.
Xue Qingqing was exhausted. She took the child to bed early, giving the man careful instructions before sleeping: "Young Master Shen, your wound is at a critical stage of recovery. Try to move as little as possible. If you're thirsty in the night, just call me to pour water for you. Don't do it yourself."
Pei Huaizhen gently agreed.
Xue Qingqing felt reassured and hugged Little Tiger as she fell into a deep sleep. Before she drifted off, she softly hummed a modern nursery rhyme: "Little swallow, wearing colorful clothes, coming here every spring. I ask the swallow, why do you come? The swallow says… the swallow says…"
Her voice gradually weakened, eventually turning into steady breathing.
The cloth curtain separating the inner and outer rooms swayed gently as the dim candlelight flickered quietly.
The courtyard was silent, save for the faint sound of falling leaves brushing against the ground.
The sleeping baby, for some reason, suddenly began to whimper softly, looking like he was about to burst into a loud cry.
In the outer room, Pei Huaizhen slightly lifted his eyes. All trace of sleepiness had vanished from his peach-blossom eyes, leaving only a bottomless calm.
Supporting himself with his arms, he rose with extreme lightness and stability, pacing soundlessly into the inner room.
Moonlight filtered through the window frame, falling on his profile, sharpening his jawline and shedding the gentle air of the frail scholar from the daytime. All that remained was an innate nobility and coldness.
He bent down, extending a long arm to steadily take the swaddled infant into his embrace.
His movements were as light as a feather, not even disturbing the child.
Pei Huaizhen held the small baby, standing by the bed, looking down at the soft bundle in his arms.
His fingertip very lightly touched the child's soft cheek, and his thin lips parted, his voice extremely low:
"Don't cry."
"Your mother is already very tired. You must be sensible and let her rest well."
Strangely, the baby who had been restless just moments ago actually quieted down in his arms, smacking his little mouth before falling back into a deep sleep.
Pei Huaizhen stood there holding the child in the moonlight, his silhouette solitary and sharp, cold as a celestial being.
He slightly lifted his eyelids to look at the sleeping young woman. There was no longer a hint of feigned gentleness in his eyes, only a deep, pond-like darkness.
His gaze touched upon a small patch of snow-white skin below Xue Qingqing’s neck. He narrowed his eyes, observing it casually, feeling no shame for his current covetousness.
Once he had seen his fill, Pei Huaizhen turned and carried the child toward the outer room.
Dragging a broken leg, his pace was hardly graceful. His thin body cast an exceptionally long shadow on the floor, swaying with his uneven steps. The celestial aura he had exuded while standing in the moonlight instantly transformed into a chilling, ghostly air.
"Heaven is yellow, earth is yellow, my house has a child who cries at night—"
Pei Huaizhen sat on the bamboo couch, softly singing a nursery rhyme. His voice was gentle and slightly raspy, his tone revealing a bit of weariness. Outside, the chirping of insects rose and fell.
Anyone seeing this scene would only think it was a young man who had just become a father, soothing a fussy child in the middle of the night.
"Parents recite this three times a day, and he'll sleep until the sun is bright—"
The blue cloth highlighted his cold, pale, and slender fingers as Pei Huaizhen sang low, his hand gently patting the swaddling.
Just then, the steady candle flame suddenly jumped, and there was a very faint sound from the roof, almost inaudible.
Pei Huaizhen’s arms holding the child remained perfectly still as he unhurriedly finished the nursery rhyme.
Everything was silent, not a human voice to be heard. The insects outside made the silence inside the house feel cold.
Pei Huaizhen spoke flatly:
"Come out."
The wind moved outside the door, and a black shadow landed like a ghost:
"Your subordinate, Jingzhe, has arrived late to your rescue. I beg Your Highness's forgiveness."