By the time Jiang Chengyuan finished his duties and returned to the room, it was already past midnight. Outside the yamen, the porridge sheds ran through the night, guarded in shifts by soldiers.
Closing the door softly, he first went to the bed to check on Yun Shuyue. He touched her forehead, then compared it with his own—thankfully, no fever. If she could endure another half month, she should be safe.
She was just as before: once asleep, she tossed and turned. Now she sprawled across the bed, one leg thrown over the quilt, arms wrapped around a soft pillow. Suddenly, her long lashes trembled, her delicate brows twitching uneasily.
Jiang Chengyuan clasped her hand that clutched the pillow, and her restlessness gradually calmed. She must still be haunted by the fright of Great Pine Mountain, sometimes startled awake by nightmares.
Chen Ping had told him she had only just fallen asleep after spending hours caring for that little child. No wonder she was exhausted, and with her wound not yet healed, her sleep was naturally unsettled.
Jiang Chengyuan extinguished the candlelight and lay beside her fully clothed. Yet he couldn’t sleep. Again and again, the image of her standing in front of him without hesitation flashed in his mind.
He would never forget the feeling in that moment—the panic, the helpless fear. For an instant, he had truly been afraid she might die because of his sudden decision. After all, he had not intended to bring her to Rong County. Yet when she herself refused, he had inexplicably changed his mind.
Since leaving the capital, many unexpected things had happened. He found himself thinking of Yun Shuyue often—even when she was right beside him, his mind conjured images of her.
A man who had always preferred solitude now realized that having someone near wasn’t unbearable at all. He had even grown accustomed to the rhythm of her breathing as she slept. Married barely half a month, this woman he once considered a burden could so easily stir emotions he hadn’t known were there.
Then suddenly, an arm flung across his chest—followed by a cry of pain:
“Ah…”
Yun Shuyue had tugged her injured arm, the pain making her cry instantly. This was the most agonizing stage of recovery—though the wound had scabbed, the slightest careless movement tore it open again.
Jiang Chengyuan sat up quickly, helping her lie back properly, inwardly regretting not having adjusted her sleeping posture earlier.
A crimson stain spread across her plain white robe—the wound was bleeding again. Jiang Chengyuan lit the candle, retrieved wound medicine from his pack, and naturally opened her collar. As expected, the scab had split. Though the tear was small, he treated it with utmost care.
Since her injury, his greatest fear was that she might catch a chill or infection. He dared not relax for even a moment.
Yun Shuyue’s voice was nasal, hoarse: “I want some water.”
Jiang Chengyuan brought a teacup to the bedside, supporting her gently upright with one hand while holding the cup to her lips with the other.
After drinking, her throat felt less dry. She tried to rise from bed.
Jiang Chengyuan stopped her: “It’s so late. Where are you going?”
Unable to sleep after the pain, Yun Shuyue replied: “I want to check if the two children are sleeping well.”
Jiang Chengyuan reassured her: “Chen Ping just checked. They’re already asleep. If you go now, you might wake them.”
Yun Shuyue admitted his reasoning made sense. She slipped off her shoes and tried to move back onto the bed, but after shifting twice, she hadn’t managed even two inches. Jiang Chengyuan stepped forward, lifted her gently, and placed her back where she had been lying: “You must be careful these days. If the wound tears again, it could lead to infection.”
Ever since her injury, Yun Shuyue had been lukewarm toward him. In her heart, she blamed herself for stepping in front of that arrow, altering the original outcome and suffering for it.
During the worst days, she had truly resented him—resented that he insisted on bringing her to Rong County, resented that he chose the dangerous route through Great Pine Mountain. Yet when he carried her back to bed, she saw in his eyes a cautious tenderness, as though he held a priceless treasure that might shatter at the slightest slip. He tucked the quilt around her with practiced ease, as if he had done it countless times.
For a fleeting moment, Yun Shuyue felt they resembled any ordinary husband and wife—supporting and caring for one another.
Of course, that illusion only held if she forgot the story’s plot. In the original tale, her fate was bleak and sorrowful: a beauty who never received a shred of his affection.
Sensing her gaze, Jiang Chengyuan turned his head. Yun Shuyue gave a faint smile: “This journey to Rong County has burdened you, my lord. With the disaster so severe, you must still divide your attention to care for me. Shuyue feels guilty.”
Jiang Chengyuan interrupted firmly: “Madam, if you truly wish to return to the capital, once your wound heals, I will send someone to escort you back.”
Yun Shuyue froze. She had spoken in hopes of restoring the distance they once kept, believing that if they returned to polite detachment, the plot might not stray too far.
But to Jiang Chengyuan, her words sounded like a desire to leave for the capital.
The candlelight was extinguished once more. Shadows under the moon filled the room. Outside, Rong County’s night was noisy—the clamor of disaster victims never ceased. Tens of thousands awaited the court’s relief grain. Three rounds of imperial funding had failed to change their plight, proof enough that corruption ran deep.
“I don’t plan to return to the capital. I want to stay here and do what I can.”
“Mm.” It was the same word as always, but today’s mm was clearly different—lighter, almost cheerful.
In past years, April was the time when every household prepared for spring plowing. That morning in Rong County, a fierce wind rose, sand flying everywhere. After standing outside only a short while, Yun Shuyue already felt dizzy and heavy‑headed.
Chen Ping urged her: “Madam, the master said you should rest more. The weather is turning—better go back inside. There will always be someone to handle these matters.”
Yun Shuyue knew she couldn’t be of much help. “Have the two children woken yet?”
Chen Ping replied: “The elder is awake, the younger still asleep.”
Yun Shuyue instructed: “The wind is getting stronger. These porridge sheds may not hold much longer. Find a few nearby homes to cook the porridge indoors—that way we can keep the sand from falling into the pots.”
As she walked toward the county office, she suddenly saw the crowded street forced open by several servants dressed as retainers. Zhao Qingyun, accompanied by her maid, hurried inside. The wind was so strong she couldn’t open her eyes, and thus failed to notice Yun Shuyue standing to the side.
Yun Shuyue drew a deep breath and shook her head lightly. She hadn’t expected Zhao Qingyun to follow after all.