PMM - 57

When Yi Huan woke up, it was still before dawn.

Faint streaks of light filtered through the window, creating a serene atmosphere. She turned her head; the man beside her had his eyes closed, his long lashes casting shadows, and his sleeping face held a childlike innocence.

Her heart softened. She gently tucked the blanket around him, careful not to wake him.

Yi Huan had always risen early. Due to her illness, she often woke up in pain in the middle of the night and couldn’t fall back asleep. She closed her eyes but didn’t get up. His hand was still resting on her waist beneath the blanket, and she didn’t want to disturb him.

It had been half a month since they left Master Bai Shen’s place. Fu Chengyu’s injuries hadn’t fully healed, but with proper care, he would recover gradually.

Before they left, Master Bai called Yi Huan aside: “Young lady, about your illness…”

Huan turned her head, her gaze clear and pure, silently waiting for him to continue. Master Bai hesitated, then sighed: “Let me write you a prescription. Though it won’t cure you completely, it may provide some relief.”

Yi Huan sincerely thanked him. Having lived with her illness for so long, she knew her body better than anyone. Like the pomegranate tree in the courtyard that had waited through winter, she appeared fine on the outside, but inside, she was already decaying.

Her body remained the same, but her mindset had changed.

She and Fu Chengyu settled in a small, picturesque mountain village surrounded by dense woods. It was quiet and peaceful, perfect for recovery.

When Fu Chengyu saw Yi Huan come to him, he was first shocked, then overwhelmed with joy. It turned out she wasn’t indifferent to him after all. After years of waiting, she had finally taken this step.

He thought with glee, “Damn, jumping into that river was totally worth it—finally, my wife is secured.”

Fu Chengyu was the kind of person who would take advantage if you gave him an inch. After realizing Yi Huan’s feelings, he started acting up, often complaining about his wounds hurting in the middle of the night. An arrow had struck his shoulder, and though it hadn’t fully healed, he exaggerated the pain.

To make it easier to care for him, Yi Huan moved in with him.

She found his antics amusing. Since she had already taken this step, she wouldn’t fear whatever the future held.

Fortunately, Fu Chengyu felt guilty and didn’t dare do anything inappropriate to Yi Huan. But a grown man sharing a bed with a delicate woman—who also happened to be his beloved—couldn’t resist taking advantage of the situation.

He decided to seize the right moment to express that his “wounds were healed.”

After getting up, Yi Huan would cook. She was skilled with her hands; back at Qifeng Mountain, she often cooked for herself. Her previous life had been dull and joyless, but she always found happiness in these small tasks.

He leaned against the doorframe, watching her.

Half of Yi Huan’s hair was pinned up with a hairpin, while the other half cascaded down her back, soft and flowing. Her fair neck was exposed, creamy white, inviting imagination.

She worked with great focus, as if nothing could disturb her. A gentle warmth radiated from her, irresistibly alluring.

“What are you doing? Fu Chengyu…” She was startled when he suddenly hugged her from behind, nearly causing her to spill all the salt into the pot.

The man behind her shamelessly bit her neck—not a real bite, more like… licking. He managed to reply in between: “You’re too slow. I’m starving.”

So hugging her was his way of dealing with hunger? Yi Huan couldn’t help but laugh, but she was patient by nature. She pushed his head away: “Don’t interrupt me while I’m cooking.”

Her voice carried a hint of laughter, and he relaxed, lingering reluctantly before offering to help bring the dishes over. Yi Huan didn’t need his help, but she didn’t chase him away either.

After breakfast, they went out for a walk.

The villagers had already gotten to know them and greeted them warmly. Fu Chengyu appeared aloof and uninterested in responding, but Yi Huan smiled and returned their greetings one by one.

In recent days, the village buzzed with talk of the beautiful couple who had arrived. The man was handsome, with an air of distinction, but he came across as proud and rarely spoke to the villagers. However, the woman was lovely and gentle, speaking softly with a faint smile. She even made little pastries for the village children, earning her comparisons to a fairy.

Seeing his unwelcoming demeanor, Yi Huan felt helpless. They might stay here for a long time, and his sour expression risked offending people.

She gently said, “When others greet you, you should respond.”

“As you wish,” he replied. Fu Chengyu was actually highly skilled at handling such situations, but he was a very goal-oriented person and disliked doing things without benefit. Pleasing Yi Huan, however, was worthwhile, so he willingly followed her advice.

To the villagers’ astonishment, the once haughty man suddenly began smiling warmly and politely, as if their earlier impression of him ignoring everyone had been a mere illusion.

There was an ancient banyan tree in the village, and Yi Huan helped Fu Chengyu over to rest beneath it.

“Huan, I just smiled at them.”

“Yes, I saw. That’s how it should be.”

“I did what you said—I smiled at them.” He stubbornly repeated himself.

She looked at him helplessly, silently asking, What else do you want? He honestly replied, “I want to kiss you.”

Yi Huan shook her head: “We’re outside. Don’t do anything reckless.” Most people were working at this hour, but still, it was broad daylight, and they might be seen.

But he truly wanted to, had been thinking about it the entire walk. He leaned closer to her: “They won’t see.”

His gaze was intense, his pupils deep black, shining like glass beads. Their breaths mingled, and suddenly he lifted her chin, pressing his lips to hers.

Her lips carried a fresh, subtle fragrance that intoxicated his soul. When he finally regained some clarity from his daze, he realized her slender arms were wrapped around his neck—she was responding to him!

Huan… she…

His mind felt like a jumbled mess, yet fireworks seemed to explode within him. He dimly realized that Huan was indulging him. Indulging him…

She cooked for him, cared for his medicine, and didn’t reject his unreasonable requests. Was he dreaming?

Seeing Fu Chengyu’s stunned expression, Yi Huan couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. She took his hand: “It’s time to go home.” He obediently followed, like a loyal dog trailing behind her.

“When will we leave?” Yi Huan liked it here, but they couldn’t stay forever. This peaceful place was perfect for Fu Chengyu’s recovery.

Fu Chengyu didn’t want to leave at all. He feared this was a surreal dream—that the real him had already died in the river, and the Huan who was with him, pampering him, was merely a figment of his imagination. If they left this place, she might vanish, becoming the distant moon he could only gaze at forever.

Finally, he answered: “Let’s wait a little longer.” Wait until he could confirm this wasn’t a dream.

That night, as they lay in bed, he suddenly felt inclined to talk about the past.

“Huan, were you afraid of me before?”

Yi Huan thought for a moment, then nodded honestly. She had indeed been quite afraid of Fu Chengyu when she was younger. When he glared at her, it felt like he might pounce and bite her at any moment.

Fu Chengyu inwardly cursed his past self as an idiot and continued: “Then when did you stop being afraid?”

When? Yi Huan paused for a moment, thoughtfully recalling, and hesitantly replied: “The first time you escorted me back to Qifeng Mountain.”

The first time he escorted her back to Qifeng Mountain, a heavy rainstorm had hit. As the horse climbed uphill, its hooves slipped on the wet ground, and a sharp branch scraped the horse, startling it.

Yi Huan sat inside the carriage, her face pale. She was only thirteen at the time and had never experienced something like this before. The carriage jolted violently, and her forehead repeatedly hit the carriage walls. Her heart raced uncontrollably, and though she wanted to scream, her throat felt blocked, unable to produce a sound.

Fu Chengyu immediately rushed forward and severed the ropes tying the carriage to the horse. The carriage remained in place, but due to inertia, Yi Huan was flung out.

He lunged forward to catch her, cradling her head with both arms and cushioning her fall with his body. He reassured her softly: “Don’t be afraid, it’s over now. Don’t be scared.”

Yi Huan rested against his chest, her face still pale. She wasn’t injured, but the rapid heartbeat she heard nearby seemed to blur the line between hers and his.

Almost instinctively, he gently patted her back, soothing her like one would a child. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, but then he suddenly snapped out of it, pushing her away as he stood up. His expression turned cold, as if something he had carefully hidden had been abruptly exposed.

Gone was any trace of the earlier tenderness.

Yi Huan looked at him, bewildered. Several sharp stones were embedded in his back, but he acted as though he couldn’t feel them, walking ahead with a grim expression.

Strangely enough, she suddenly wasn’t afraid anymore. In fact, she felt an inexplicable urge to laugh.

Fu Chengyu was no longer the shy boy he had been in his youth. Having gotten his answer, he said, “I’ve always treated you this well. Can you like me just a little more?” Seeing that she didn’t respond, he quickly added, “Never mind, I was joking. This is good enough.”

Yi Huan shook her head: “Chengyu, don’t you realize?” Her voice was soft. “I’m liking you more and more every day.”

“Then… can I kiss you now?” Ever since their stolen kiss under the ancient banyan tree that morning, he had been craving more.

The candlelight flickered, and her eyes sparkled like someone had stolen a few stars and hidden them there. She parted her lips, calling his name formally: “Fu Chengyu, don’t push your luck.”

Before the disappointment could settle in, she suddenly closed her eyes—don’t push your luck. After this kiss, no further demands are allowed.

Their embrace deepened, filling the room with warmth.

The next day, Fu Chengyu felt as though he were floating on air. He was both satisfied and yet wanting more. A knock came at the door, and when he looked up, he met a pair of astonished, joyful eyes: “Chengyu.”

It was Fu Yi, his father. Fu Yi should have been in Yingdong fighting alongside Yi Qiancheng, yet here he was.

Hearing the commotion, Yi Huan emerged from the inner room. Upon seeing Fu Yi, she paused briefly before softly saying, “Master, please sit down.”

“Miss, you…” Fu Yi began, but stopped after a few words, having clearly understood the situation. Fu Chengyu responded with a hint of coldness: “What brings you here, Father?”

“I’m relieved to see you’re safe. Chengyu, I was wrong.”

Fu Chengyu’s expression stiffened. Fu Yi continued: “For all these years, I failed to be the father I should have been. It’s only right that you resent me.”

“You didn’t just fail as a father—you also failed as a husband. Do you know what my mother was doing in her final moments? She kept staring at the door, refusing to close her eyes, hoping her husband would return to see her one last time. Where were you?” Years of pent-up resentment erupted, and he finally voiced the emotions he had buried deep inside.

After Mr. Fu Yi left, the cold, mocking expression on Fu Chengyu’s face hadn’t faded.

Yi Huan knelt down and cupped his face: “Chengyu, look at me. Don’t be angry—I’ll be scared.”

His body tensed, then seemed to deflate. His fingertips lightly traced her brows and eyes: “I’m not angry. Don’t be afraid.”

In truth, once he spoke his feelings aloud, he felt a weight lift. The obsession that had haunted him for years dissolved in an instant. Looking at Yi Huan, as long as she was by his side, all his bitterness would eventually fade, and everything could be forgiven.

By early summer, Fu Chengyu’s injuries had fully healed. He took Yi Huan back to Shaji. The winding cobblestone path was slippery after the rain, but he held her hand firmly, ensuring each step was steady.

Yi Huan knew where they were, and as expected, she saw a grave.

It belonged to Fu Chengyu’s mother—a pitiful, tragic woman. Fu Chengyu murmured softly: “Mother, he says he knows he was wrong. Rest in peace.”

He turned around, his gaze filled with quiet longing, and looked at Yi Huan. Yi Huan felt both heartache and amusement, replying gently: “You can rest assured. I will take good care of Chengyu.”

Finally, he smiled, looking as content as a child.

On the way back, he couldn’t stop smiling, making Yi Huan feel a bit embarrassed: “Why are you smiling so much?”

“If my mother knew she had such a gentle and virtuous daughter-in-law, she would be so happy.”

“Stop talking nonsense. Who said I’m your wife?”

He froze mid-step, his unhappiness evident in his expression: “You don’t want to marry me?” His bold question showed how spoiled she had made him during this time.

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” Yi Huan looked into his eyes, speaking earnestly: “Chengyu, you need to understand—I may not be able to stay with you for many years…”

His gaze grew colder, tinged with frost, as if her words alone could shatter him.

Yi Huan chose her words carefully: “I might not be able to bear children for you.”

“I don’t want kids—they’re annoying.”

“I’ll often get sick.”

“I’ll take care of you.”

“I can’t handle too much emotional stress.”

“I’ll never make you angry.”

“You’re spoiling me, Fu Chengyu.” She finally couldn’t help but laugh. Fu Chengyu let out a sigh of relief and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear: “Then can you indulge me a little too? Be nice to me.”

“I haven’t finished yet. This is the one selfish thing I’ve done in my life—to want to be with you. Perhaps I won’t be able to stay with you for long, but that’s no longer a reason to leave you. If I can live for five years, I’ll stay with you for five. If I can live for ten, I’ll stay for ten.”

She smiled faintly. Because I am being selfish, I want to treat you well and spoil you too. I want your happiness in these few years to surpass a lifetime.

Yi Huan spoke earnestly: “Chengyu, a woman as bad as me, one who will only drag you down—do you still dare to marry me?”

His smile reached his eyes, and the sunlight filtered through in tiny fragments, illuminating him. “I do.”

The moon that had always seemed so distant finally came to rest in his hands. He still had so much time to walk with her through the seasons, waiting for flowers to bloom.