Chapter 96

The kiss came without warning.

Only now did Que Shan realize he had underestimated the situation. Not being able to lie was a curse—a curse that forced him to dig out a part of himself he had never seen before.

He wanted her close but not too close. How could things always go so perfectly his way? She had already grown claws and donned armor under his watch, sharp and unyielding, probing every weak spot.

In contrast, he was like a clumsy child—uncertain, inexperienced, and ultimately throwing caution to the wind.

The kiss, meant to obscure the truth, became his last line of defense.

But Nan Yi resisted fiercely. Their lips and teeth clashed, refusing to surrender or concede. Both harbored their own intentions, yet they were inseparable.

In the heat of the moment, they knocked over a vase. The porcelain shattered as it hit the ground.

At last, Que Shan managed to seize her hand, forcefully intertwining his fingers with hers, holding her hand tightly.

It was almost stubborn, proving once and for all that her palm was empty.

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. This tug-of-war, sparked by her lie, finally reached a temporary truce.

For a brief moment, everything fell silent.

Nan Yi felt dazed. She realized this kiss was so unfamiliar—there was no demand, no lingering romance, but instead a near-pleading cessation. He silenced the words that were tumbling out of her, one after another, until her chest felt hollow and empty, leaving her unable to ask anything more.

Only then did she catch the faint, metallic scent of blood lingering on him. In the close distance between them, the scent seemed amplified, and she suddenly realized that he must have endured a very difficult day.

He must be so tired.

She looked up at him. He seemed unsure of how to end this moment, retreating back one step, then another, and glancing sheepishly at the mess on the floor.

Red apricot blossoms and white porcelain shards, shattered together.

For some reason, she felt a pang of sorrow.

Earlier, when she had been sitting by the window waiting, she had been wondering why he had suddenly placed a flower in the room. It was so unlike him. But she thought it was a good thing—spring had finally arrived here with him.

She crouched down, trying to salvage the flower. Picking up the broken stem, she found the petals had been crushed and soaked by water, stuck to the ground and impossible to gather back.

He grew increasingly agitated and finally spoke. “I’ll clean it up. You should leave.”

Nan Yi ignored him and continued on her own, carefully collecting the porcelain shards into a pile and then picking up the scattered petals, one by one.

She didn’t press him, didn’t push him for answers anymore. But she didn’t want this little bit of brightness to be so carelessly wiped away, either.

“It’s already so shattered. What’s the point of picking it up?” he asked.

“I like it. Don’t mind me,” she replied softly.

Xie Queshan pulled her away. “I said don’t—don’t do anything—just go.”

She stubbornly looked at him. “Go pick another branch.”

It was an incongruous response.

They stared at each other silently for a few seconds. He didn’t move, so Nan Yi turned and walked out on her own.

Xie Queshan let out a sigh. She rarely acted stubborn in front of him, especially not over something as trivial as a flower. But he vaguely understood what she was really holding onto.

She was too kind, so much so that it softened his heart.

In the end, his feet followed her out the door.

Outside, in the small courtyard, there was a low wall. Beyond it lay a garden, and a few branches heavy with blossoms stretched over the wall, resting quietly under the moonlight.

He saw her standing beneath the wall, reaching up on her toes to grasp a branch, but she still couldn’t reach.

Once again, he relented, stepping forward. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her legs and lifted her up entirely.

Nan Yi gasped in surprise, a soft cry escaping her lips. The sudden loss of balance made her instinctively shut her eyes. When she opened them again, her view was filled with blossoms.

Half leaning against Xie Queshan’s frame, she felt stiff at first. Being held so high up made her feel a little uneasy. But when she shifted slightly, his hold was steady—secure.

She reached out to touch the blossoms, and an inexplicable smile lit up her face.

Behind her was the dark night; before her was spring. In that instant, she felt as though she couldn’t quite remember what day it was.

She allowed herself to forget, just for this moment. To forget the storm raging outside, to forget the unspoken truths between them, to forget all the burdensome constraints.

They were both thieves, stealing a sliver of beauty from this spring night. It was a secret rain shower just for the two of them, a beauty that belonged to no one else.

She didn’t pluck the branch. Instead, she shook the larger limb, letting petals cascade down in a gentle flurry, landing on her hair, her clothes.

The scent of the flowers was fresh and pure, carrying a hint of unripe sweetness.

She smiled, looking down to ask, “Xie Chao’en, is it beautiful?”

He looked up. It seemed as though he was gazing at the flowers, but also at her.

“Mm,” he answered.

Together, they had escaped to the world’s smallest paradise. Spring granted them a private rain, just for the two of them.

He set her down gently, and her soft arms rested naturally on his shoulders.

On impulse, she cupped his face and examined it carefully, inch by inch. He was so handsome. A line from a Yuefu poem she had once memorized came to mind: “The stone is like jade, the pines like emerald; your beauty is peerless, unmatched in this world.” It perfectly described a face like his. A man this beautiful surely must be adored by many. How had she ended up with such incredible fortune?

Oh, perhaps it was because he was too fierce. His eyes always seemed to carry the murky shadows of freshly stirred ink, as though they could drag everything around him into the depths of night.

But now, his eyes held light, blossoms, and her.

It seemed she had both seen through him and yet never truly understood him. How had he navigated through all those dark nights to arrive here? How many secrets did he carry, buried in the shadows?

She gave up pondering and allowed herself to be enveloped by that darkness. If it was to be an entanglement, so be it.

She closed her eyes and lightly pressed her lips to his.

In that instant, it was like fireworks igniting, rivers converging into the sea, souls soaring skyward and then immediately returning to their place.

The world seemed to collapse with a thunderous roar. He waited amidst the ruins, bracing for destruction, awaiting its descent.

She had opened a door.

His emotions—love, hate, joy, and sorrow—were all piled there, gathering dust and cobwebs, until she stepped inside. Every step she took awakened buried pains he had long hidden. Her presence was undeniably a form of harm, yet he could only drink the poison, finding it both bitter and sweet. It hurt, so much so that he could no longer hold himself together. He felt like a fragile shell, just a mortal man of flesh and blood.

So he clung to her tightly, as though she were the only piece of driftwood keeping him afloat in the vast sea of his life. Without rhyme or reason, they kissed again, tangled like two untamed beasts clumsily expressing their mutual acceptance.

From the courtyard to the room, they fell onto the bed.

The table was knocked over, crashing to the floor with a loud noise, scattering other objects in its wake. It all felt so out of place amidst the chaos.

She drifted between clarity and haze, unable to recall how things had come to this point. Everything had been so abrupt yet so natural.

What was love in this world? She had yet to fully understand it, yet she used one mystery to cover another.

It turned out she had been running away too. She had been questioning him but wasn’t truly prepared to face the answers. Why did she need to know who he was? And after knowing—what then?

The answer hovered in the air, but now wasn’t the time for contemplation.

She felt happiness. She didn’t know why, but it filled her. She wanted to be closer to him, closer still. As she neared the flame, she melted and burned. This unfamiliar sensation was driving her to madness.

Time became a still river, and together they sank into the blurred boundaries of its depths.

The room was sealed tight, not letting in even the slightest breath of air, trapping him and her inside. After all, no one else would know.

Oh… the wind.

She felt the wind creeping in from outside the door and murmured, “Close the door…”

“No one will come…” he brushed off her words, not sparing any attention to these small details.

A peculiar unease, unique to someone with rotten luck, inappropriately slipped into Nan Yi’s mind. She opened her eyes on a whim and glanced over.

Suddenly, she pushed Xie Queshan hard. He didn’t think much of it, grabbing her wrist to stop her movement. But she grew anxious and kicked him fiercely, forcibly sending him tumbling off her.

Xie Queshan landed on the ground with a thud, sitting in a daze.

He first saw the look of embarrassment on Nan Yi’s face, then followed her gaze to the doorway. Standing there was Lady Gantang, her mouth agape in shock, as if she had swallowed a hundred eggs.

He remained awkwardly seated on the ground, his brain unable to process the situation.

The three of them were utterly mortified.

…

A stick of incense earlier, Lady Gantang had heard that Xie Queshan had returned to the estate. Though the hour was late and movement between courtyards was rare, she decided that catching him now, in the quiet of the night, was her best chance to discuss some private matters with him.

She wanted to talk about Nan Yi.

Over the past few days, she had heard some rumors floating around the estate. Though she dismissed the scandalous gossip as untrue, she suspected that Xie Queshan, who had always been at odds with Zhang Yuehui, might secretly be pulling strings to prevent Nan Yi from remarrying. So she wanted to remind him to watch his behavior to avoid giving people something to talk about, as well as to urge him to stop interfering with Nan Yi’s future.

Instead, she stumbled upon this shocking scene.

Doubting her own eyes, she inexplicably turned away, taking a few steps back before glancing over her shoulder to confirm.

It was still the same scene.

She wanted to flee. This was beyond what she could handle.

Her steps faltered, and she nearly tripped, hastily making her way out. At the courtyard gate, Tang Rong waited for her. Seeing her unsteady gait, he reached out to support her arm.

The heat of a man’s palm on her arm was an ordinary thing, but at that moment, Lady Gantang felt it was utterly improper. She jerked away, retreating several steps as though she had seen a ghost.

Tang Rong’s hand froze midair, utterly baffled.

“Madam, what’s the matter?” Tang Rong’s gaze naturally drifted toward Xie Queshan’s quarters.

“Let’s go.” Lady Gantang’s face was pale, her composure lost, and she nearly ran away from the scene.

—

Nan Yi even considered fleeing in the middle of the night. She was overwhelmed with shame, unsure how to carry herself in Wangxuewu or how to face Lady Gantang.

She must have been bewitched, completely blinded by beauty. Now, as clarity returned, she regretted it so much that her intestines twisted with remorse.

But Xie Queshan told her, “What’s done is done. Just pretend nothing happened.”

True to his word, his face showed no sign of panic. He even helped adjust her disheveled attire, thoughtfully asking if she needed him to escort her back. How could this man feel no shame?

Nan Yi declined his offer, vowing that she wouldn’t want to be seen with him for a long time. She scrambled over the wall back to her courtyard and spent the rest of the night trembling with unease. The maid called her to breakfast the next morning, and she carefully observed everyone’s expressions, finding nothing unusual. It seemed no one knew… yet.

She thought about feigning illness but ultimately steeled herself and went along. The dining hall was lively and bustling with the warmth of steam.

No one paid her any attention. Nan Yi hid in a corner, trying to finish her meal quickly, but Xie Queshan entered the dining hall shortly after.

She froze immediately, feeling as if she were sitting on pins and needles. The soft buns suddenly felt as hard as rocks, and the smooth porridge turned into glue, utterly unappetizing.

Lady Gantang glanced at Xie Queshan, her face darkening instantly. After a night of contemplation, she had pieced together a plausible explanation in her mind.

Such an outrageous act could not have happened without Xie Queshan’s initiation.

Perhaps he had even coerced her.

She kicked his chair and said, “There’s no breakfast prepared for you.”

Xie Queshan: …

Everyone else was stunned, not understanding why Lady Gantang was showing hostility toward Xie Queshan so early in the morning.

Xie Queshan smiled sheepishly, showing uncharacteristic patience.

“Alright, Second Sister, I’ll eat at the yamen then.”

Strangely, despite the small size of the dining hall, the three of them managed to avoid each other’s gazes.