“No, that won’t do. This is home, not the battlefield. If you’re really hurt, it must be treated carefully. In my family, there was an old servant who handled his injury carelessly. Later, one of his hands became useless. My father had to make him a steward so he wouldn’t need to use his hands much—otherwise he might not even have survived.”
Su Qing’er spoke softly. It was the first time she had mentioned her own family to Chen Jinghan.
When Chen Jinghan heard her say the word “home,” his heart surged. Unknowingly, she had begun to regard this place as her home. That was a good sign. It seemed that her acceptance of him was only a matter of time.
He stopped insisting and allowed her to fuss over him, taking the initiative to remove his clothes.
As he undressed, Qing’er suddenly turned her face away. Though they were married, they had not yet consummated the marriage. She still could not overcome that invisible barrier in her heart.
Chen Jinghan smiled. After several days together, his wife was still so shy—it truly wasn’t easy for her.
The scratch was on his leg. He could have simply removed his outer trousers, but wanting to tease her, he stripped thoroughly, leaving only a pair of undergarments.
“Wife, trouble you to take a look for me.”
He suppressed a grin, curious to see how his delicate wife would react.
After a long moment, Qing’er turned around—only to find him nearly naked. She gasped and immediately turned back, covering her eyes.
His trick successful, Chen Jinghan grinned silently. His wife got angry easily; he dared not appear too pleased.
Her face burning red, Qing’er silently recited passages from The Yueyang Tower Essay to calm herself.
Chen Jinghan rose slowly and walked to her, gently prying her hands away from her eyes. His strength was too great for her to resist, though she still refused to open them.
“Wife, we are already married. You are mine, and I am yours. Though this husband of yours may be unsightly, he must still be seen. Open your eyes—there’s nothing to fear. I won’t do anything to you.”
His voice trembled slightly as he spoke.
On the battlefield, he had always been resolute and iron-willed. He had never imagined himself speaking so gently.
If he was a fierce tiger in war, then before his wife, he was nothing more than a civet cat.
People said a woman’s tenderness was like water—before her, even the hardest steel melted.
Moved by his words, Qing’er slowly opened her eyes, her cheeks flushed as she looked at his body.
What first met her gaze, however, were the countless scars.
She was stunned speechless.
Raised in comfort and luxury, she had never witnessed the cruelty of war. His body was covered in old scars, twisting and dark like earthworms. On his right shoulder were many newer wounds—freshly healed, the skin pale red and starkly different from the rest.
Unable to stop herself, Qing’er reached out to touch the scars. Tears streamed down her face.
When her fingertips brushed him, Chen Jinghan shuddered. His heart stirred restlessly. He had meant to joke to hide his feelings, but when she remained silent, he turned—and saw her tear-streaked face.
“Wife, what’s wrong?”
Then he understood. In teasing her, he had forgotten about the scars. A delicate young lady like her—of course she had never seen such things. She must have been frightened.
Flustered, he searched for his clothes to cover himself, apologizing as he did. “Wife, I didn’t mean to scare you. If you’re afraid, we won’t look anymore. I’ll just apply some ointment myself.”
He had just draped his outer robe over his shoulders when Qing’er pulled it off.
“Wife?”
She wiped away her tears and picked up the ointment, gently applying it first to the scratch on his leg. She blew softly over it, then began carefully spreading the medicine across his back.
“Wife, those are old wounds. They’ve long healed—they don’t hurt at all,” he said softly. On the battlefield, cuts from blades were common; one simply endured and recovered.
She said nothing, continuing meticulously.
Every scar, whether new or old, she treated with the same care—as if applying ointment could smooth away the marks and erase the pain he had endured.
Understanding her intention, he fell silent, sitting still while she worked.
After each wound, she would gently blow on it. Strangely, a coolness spread across his back, and memories of past battles flooded his mind.
There had been defeats as well. After years of leading troops, he had seen fields of lamentation and piles of bones. He had thought his heart long hardened to stone—yet without realizing it, a small woman had broken through his defenses.
In that moment, their hearts seemed to connect. Through his scars, Qing’er experienced the battlefield; through her earnest touch, he felt the warmth of her heart.
When she finished, Qing’er personally helped him into fresh clothes. She was no longer shy—only filled with fervor and admiration for her husband.
She had once believed that only scholars could change the world, and had resented marrying into the Chen family. But today she truly understood shock, blood-soaked struggle, and the spirit of a young warrior in splendid attire riding an angry steed.
Her husband, Chen Jinghan, was the finest man in the world.
“Wife…” It was his first time being dressed by her. He felt oddly bashful, his face faintly flushed.
After fastening the final button, Qing’er lifted her head and looked at him with bright eyes.
“Husband, for me—for this family—you must take good care of yourself in the future.”
“I will.” His heart felt warm. He also felt ashamed for having misunderstood her. He had thought she feared his scars; instead, she had shared his pain.
With such a wife, what more could a husband ask for?
Yet a thread of worry crept into his heart. War still raged at the front. In the past, he had fought without distraction, leaving matters at home to his parents.
Now, with Qing’er—strong-willed though she was, she had been raised sheltered in the inner chambers. If he marched to war again, what would become of her?
Before he could stop himself, he pulled her gently into his arms.
Her body was fragrant and soft, her watery eyes filled with feeling, her lips tender as petals.
A fire flared within him. Unable to restrain himself, he lowered his head and kissed her.
“Hu—” Qing’er barely uttered a syllable before her lips were sealed by his.
Clumsily, he explored her lips, and an unfamiliar sensation coursed through his entire body.