The candlelight flickered steadily, while outside the window came the patter of rain. Though not heavy, the sound carried a restless unease. Perhaps it was the dim glow, but the room seemed filled with an ambiguous tension.
Among women, Yun Shuyue was considered tall, yet standing before Jiang Chengyuan, she was still more than a head shorter. She stole a glance upward, catching only the clean line of his freshly shaven jaw and the fathomless depth of his black eyes.
When nerves run high, instinctive gestures often follow. Clearing her throat, Yun Shuyue asked softly: “Husband, what are you doing? Do you have instructions for me?”
She slowly raised her hand, intending to push him back a little.
At that moment, Jiang Chengyuan wore only a plain white robe. The chill of her palm seeped through the thin fabric, pressing against his chest.
She applied a bit of force—only for her hand to be caught in his.
“Madam, why are your hands so cold?”
“Ah?” Yun Shuyue’s mind stalled. She lifted her gaze in confusion, but when her eyes met his deep stare, she quickly lowered them again: “When I was young, I was often sickly. Perhaps it left me weak.”
Jiang Chengyuan released her hand, picked up the hand‑warmer from the table, and offered it to her: “Try holding this. This isn’t the capital—though old, it will do for now.”
So he had gone out earlier to fetch a warmer for her?
Yun Shuyue clasped the heated vessel, warmth spreading through her fingers. Outside, the rain drizzled on. She stood at the door, uncertain whether to stay or leave.
Jiang Chengyuan, seated at the bed’s edge, looked at her still frozen in place: “Does Madam intend to stand all night?”
Her eyes swept the room. Aside from the bed, there was nowhere else to rest—unless she spent the night on a chair.
Jiang Chengyuan watched her inner turmoil, his gaze growing darker. Had she forgotten how, back at the Yun residence, she had clutched her quilt and climbed into his bed without hesitation?
Jiang Chengyuan spoke directly: “Madam, since many are traveling with us, to avoid gossip, we must share a room along the way.”
Yun Shuyue: “…”
Her heart trembled—did this mean she would have to stay in the same room with him from now on?
Pressing her lips together, she forced herself to nod: “My lord is right. I hadn’t thought it through. Tonight I’ll just nap in the chair. I slept too much in the carriage earlier, so I’m not very tired now.”
She sat down with the hand‑warmer in her hands.
Jiang Chengyuan: “…”
He didn’t argue, simply lay down on the bed. But Yun Shuyue, despite her claim of wakefulness, soon felt drowsy. Whether it was the cozy warmth of the hand‑warmer or the exhaustion of a day’s travel, her eyelids drooped and sleep overtook her. Within less than the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, the room was filled with the sound of her steady breathing.
Jiang Chengyuan had closed his eyes, but the faint rhythm of her breath unsettled him. He sat up at the bed’s edge.
By the window, Yun Shuyue sat slumped in her pink silk embroidered gown, head tilted, long hair spilling over one shoulder. Her chest rose and fell gently with each breath. The hand‑warmer slipped from her grasp, about to fall. Jiang Chengyuan instinctively leaped forward, catching it just before it hit the floor. Standing tall, he gazed down at her. A strange emotion stirred within him. He had resisted this marriage, agreeing only because of his father’s insistence. He had planned to let her live quietly in the residence, each minding their own life. But in these few days, he realized his attention to her was growing. Her every gesture, at times, even tugged at his heart.
Perhaps uncomfortable with her tilted posture, Yun Shuyue leaned her head back, nearly straining her neck against the low chair. Jiang Chengyuan reached out to steady her. After a moment’s hesitation, he lifted her into his arms and placed her gently on the bed.
The next morning, the inn servant knocked on the door: “My lord, the officials ask whether you’ll take breakfast here in the room, or join them downstairs.”
Jiang Chengyuan replied: “Bring it here.”
Yun Shuyue had slept deeply through the night. Still drowsy, she rubbed her aching waist, then lazily closed her eyes again. Turning on her side, she reached out to hug the “quilt” and drift back to sleep…
Moments later, she realized something was wrong. The “quilt” felt oddly firm.
Her mind buzzed—she nearly leaped from the bed. Sure enough, Jiang Chengyuan was sitting there, calmly watching her. He said lightly: “Madam need not explain. Last night was only a misunderstanding.”
Yun Shuyue froze. Had she, in her sleep, climbed into his bed?
“I… it couldn’t have been me…”
Before she could finish, Jiang Chengyuan nodded in confirmation.
Her face flushed crimson, like a ripe fruit—adorably embarrassed.
No longer teasing her, Jiang Chengyuan rose from the bed. Struggling into his official robes, he found his arm too numb to fasten the buttons. The previous night, thunder had rumbled, and Yun Shuyue had instinctively nestled into his embrace, resting on his arm until morning.
“Madam, help me dress.”
“Ah?” Yun Shuyue, about to wash up, pointed at herself, then at him, her voice uncertain: “You… want me to help you?”
“You slept on my arm all night. It’s completely numb.”
Yun Shuyue gave an awkward laugh, shuffling over in tiny steps. Frowning, she tried to fasten his buttons. But after much fumbling, she managed only one. The more anxious she grew, the harder it became.
Jiang Chengyuan suddenly recalled that night at the Yun residence, when she had fumbled nervously with his buttons—so similar to this moment now.
Just then, the inn servant returned, calling through the door: “My lord, someone downstairs wishes to see you.”
Jiang Chengyuan: “Let them in.”
Meanwhile, Yun Shuyue bit her lip, eyes fixed on the buttons, concentrating as though she were holding a fragile insect that might escape at any moment. Her cautious manner made it seem like the most difficult, important task in the world. Jiang Chengyuan couldn’t help but feel amused. She was just about to succeed when the door suddenly burst open.
Startled, Yun Shuyue’s hand slipped, and she fell straight into Jiang Chengyuan’s arms.
At the doorway stood Zhao Qingyun, her cheerful smile frozen, staring at them in shock, breathing angrily.
Jiang Chengyuan hadn’t expected the visitor to be her. He said calmly: “Cousin, wait outside. I’ll come shortly.”
Cousin? Yun Shuyue blinked, stealing a glance at the young woman—her almond eyes wide with fury, fists clenched as though restraining herself. Clearly, this was none other than Jiang Chengyuan’s “white moonlight,” Zhao Qingyun.
From above came Jiang Chengyuan’s voice, urging her: “Madam, aren’t you going to finish?”
Yun Shuyue’s curious expression dimmed instantly. She bent her head and continued fastening his buttons one by one. There were more than ten in all, and by the time she finished, she was sweating from the effort. Yet those very buttons left the Prime Minister in excellent spirits.