WNST - 103

Nan Yi clearly remembered that last night she had rested briefly on the railing by the couch. When she woke, her eyes were met with a pale lavender robe, the shoulder and chest of a man. Startled, she realized she had fallen asleep leaning on Zhang Yuehui’s shoulder.

As she jerked upright, she felt a hand pressing gently against the back of her neck.

“Take it slow,” Zhang Yuehui’s voice came from above.

The night before, Nan Yi had refused to rest in Zhang Yuehui’s room, insisting she would return home once the curfew lifted. The two had sat together through the night, thoroughly discussing every detail of the Shipyard Department’s affairs. Toward the end, fatigue overtook them, even Zhang Yuehui’s voice becoming soft and faint.

She couldn’t remember when their conversation had trailed off, but at some point, both had fallen silent.

The movement was filled with an unspoken familiarity.

Suddenly, she remembered the many breezy nights in the past when they sat under the large tree in the courtyard, chatting lazily. They talked until they were half asleep, and she would lean against his shoulder, pretending to be half awake, and drift off to sleep.

Last night, it was clear that Zhang Yuehui had deliberately sat beside her, even moving the small table that had been in between them.

He was a man of exaggeration, sometimes so ostentatious that it felt like seeing flowers in the fog. It always seemed like he was just playing with life, with no real sincerity. Yet, there were moments when she sensed a gentle, quiet warmth deep within him, like the subtle touch of nature.

Nan Yi stood up, trying to cover her emotions. “It’s morning, I need to return to Wangxuewu.”

Zhang Yuehui lazily yawned. “No rush, Xie Que Shan won’t be returning so soon.”

Nan Yi’s thoughts were exposed, and she tried to justify herself, “I’m afraid that Lady Gantang will be worried about me if I don’t return after an entire night.”

But Zhang Yuehui grabbed her hand and casually turned the bracelet on her wrist.

His fingers were cold, uncalloused, smooth and cool like jade against her skin. She suddenly thought of Xie Que Shan—his hands were rougher and always hot to the touch.

Such different men, and yet, when she thought of him, her heart ached with longing.

She instinctively pulled her hand back.

Zhang Yuehui’s gaze darkened, half-serious and half-joking, “You can’t take off that bracelet. Otherwise, I’ll treat Xie Que Shan the same way I saved him—I’ll sell him out.”

Nan Yi fell silent for a moment before asking, “How much gold is wrapped in this bracelet?”

Zhang Yuehui was stunned. He had been talking about their bond, and she asked him about the price. His words were completely blocked.

He let out a helpless laugh, “You can leave now.”

...

Nan Yi returned to Wangxuewu quietly and informed Lady Gantang that she was safe. She couldn’t say much about Xie Que Shan’s involvement, only mentioning that Song Muxuan was safe.

The household went on as usual, lively with three meals a day. The news of Gusha’s death couldn’t be hidden, and people gathered together, discussing the situation outside with excitement.

Nan Yi felt a sense of accomplishment, having completed an important task. But her joy couldn’t be shared with anyone. She could only wait for Xie Que Shan to return so she could take credit. However, no one commented on Xie Que Shan’s absence, and no one asked about it.

Only Nan Yi waited anxiously, from morning until night.

—The round trip to Huguishan could be done in a day. How come he still hasn’t returned after being detained at Wan Yan Jun’s mansion for so long? Could something have gone wrong again?

Nan Yi sat on the low wall, keeping an eye on the gate. The weather was damp, as though it might rain, yet there were no signs in the sky. The heavy, oppressive humidity filled the air, making it hard to breathe.

At first, any movement would make her look up. But as time passed, she deliberately stopped raising her head and only listened carefully to the sounds of footsteps and the gatekeeper’s voice. If the steps didn’t sound right, or if the gatekeeper didn’t greet anyone, she knew it wasn’t him.

Time crawled along the sundial, and this long, helpless wait heightened Nan Yi’s senses. She noticed that the day was slowly dragging on, and the hidden life in the green bushes began to sprout. Looking up, she saw wild geese flying in formation across the sky.

The sky finally darkened. In the distance, a line of lanterns hung under the eaves. As she squinted, the light spread, blurring into a sea of colors in her vision.

Everything was fine, and everything was wrong.

As night deepened, fewer people moved around the house. Being outside became somewhat conspicuous. Nan Yi climbed down from the low wall and went to Xie Que Shan’s room to wait.

She wore a thin spring robe, and soon, it clung to her skin with a light sweat. Nan Yi’s impatience grew, almost to the point of frustration. Countless possibilities ran through her mind, but her heart remained unsettled. The day seemed endless.

Was he still alive? Would they meet again tomorrow?

She stared at the empty screen in his room, her thoughts scattered, and soon, she lost focus. The simplicity of the screen annoyed her.

The time passed, and after the midnight bell rang, the surrounding area grew quieter.

Suddenly, she became angry, irritated by everything. She ground ink, found the biggest brush, and started scribbling on the white screen.

She didn’t know where her boldness came from. Xie Que Shan was a meticulous man; he always washed his hands before writing.

But Nan Yi, full of uncontainable frustration, not only didn’t wash her hands but was determined to ruin the screen thoroughly.

Who knew if there would even be a tomorrow after today? Why bother maintaining appearances?

If Xie Que Shan came back, what would this little thing matter? He’d probably scold her fiercely, but she was his great benefactor. If he didn’t return, then it didn’t matter at all.

She could tear down the roof and he wouldn’t come to hold her accountable.

At that thought, her tears fell unexpectedly.

It was grievance. Truly, it was.

She drew a large turtle.

Still not satisfied, she wrote Xie Que Shan’s name in crude, scrawling characters.

Outside, the spring thunder rumbled, and the rain finally poured down, gently at first, mixed with the scent of earth, faintly drifting into her nose.

Nan Yi accidentally turned around and froze—when did he come back?

He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, looking at her with a half-smile, not sure how long he had been watching.

The suffocating pressure in her chest burst open like a dam. Tears flowed even more uncontrollably, and in her fury, she threw the brush at him.

The ink splattered all over him.

She cried, unable to catch her breath, her voice still harsh: “Are you human or ghost?!”

“And you, what do you think?”

He walked over, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the masterpiece on the screen, his gaze revealing a dangerous glint.

A certain dominant, oppressive force seemed to sink deep into her bones, especially when she was caught in the act of mischief.

Nan Yi suddenly felt guilty. All her previous confidence disappeared, and she forgot to wipe her tears. In a hurry, she grabbed the inkstone and splashed the ink onto the screen, trying to cover the turtle and the name she had written.

“I just wanted to add a landscape painting to your room.”

“I’ve never seen such an ugly landscape.”

“…You… you’re safe, that’s good. I’ll leave now.” Nan Yi tried to slip away.

But her wrist was grabbed and she was pulled into a scorching embrace.

Her clothes were still damp. He had rushed back through the rain late at night.

Wanyan Jun, being cautious, had cleared up everything about the situation by nightfall. It was already curfew outside, and logically, Xie Que Shan should have returned tomorrow morning. But he couldn’t wait any longer. He ordered several city gates to be opened and headed straight home.

He wasn’t sure if she would be at home... or if Zhang Yuehui had already taken her away.

Seeing her safe and sound here, even though the room was in disarray, as if it had been ransacked, he couldn’t think of anything better than this.

He looked at the ink soaking into the screen, following the delicate patterns of the gauze, winding down. Under the moonlight, it seemed like flowing, melting mountains.

Ahead lay high mountains and perilous roads, rushing torrents of evil water. Lowering his head, only a small boat could be seen, unable to cross the mountain pass.

Even though the danger had passed, his heart was still heavy. He didn’t know where tomorrow would take him, didn’t know how far he could go, and didn’t know how long this moment of warmth would last.

The vastness in front of him seemed distant, but the real feeling of holding her hand in the moment was both contradictory and subtle.

He lowered his gaze to Nan Yi, who was so close. The joy of their reunion prevailed. Seeing her face smeared with tears, her makeup ruined, he found himself wanting to tease her: “My screen is quite valuable, how will you compensate me?”

Nan Yi grew anxious, defending herself: “You have no conscience! I saved your life—ah!”

As she looked down, she realized she had stepped on the brush, and her silk stockings were stained with ink, soaking the soles of her feet. She quickly tried to step back, but was picked up by the waist.

“Don’t run around. You’ve got ink all over the place.” He complained, half amused.

He set her down on the couch, holding her ankle to remove her stocking, and took a cloth to wipe the ink from her foot.

Her feet were cold, and when his scorching hands touched her, a slight shiver ran through her body. Whether from nervousness or slight itchiness, Nan Yi unconsciously curled her toes.

His throat tightened, feeling an unexpected heat, and he wanted to change the subject to distract himself.

“You and…”

He was about to ask her what happened after she went to find Zhang Yuehui, but before he finished, his attention was caught by the golden-banded bracelet on her wrist.

That persistent bracelet again.

All his questions were immediately swallowed. His curiosity and possessiveness grew inside him, but he couldn’t show it. Instead, he silently seethed. At that moment, his gaze inadvertently swept over her body.

Her legs were draped across his, holding her upper body up with her hands on the couch, her chest slightly rising and falling. A soft, undulating curve appeared with each breath. Her spring dress, pearly white, was bathed in moonlight, making her skin look as pale as snow. The faint glow around her seemed to be a river flowing through a valley, stretching towards him.

His breath quickened, his mind filled with scattered, chaotic thoughts. He was frustrated with Zhang Yuehui, and frustrated with himself.

She remained unaware of the turmoil in his mind, chattering to herself to break the awkward silence: “If you hadn’t come back, I would’ve thought you were dead… A scary person like you, dying before me? Unbelievable. Should I be the one to collect your body?”

Xie Que Shan was distracted, his attention focused entirely on her small feet. His whole palm wrapped around her slender ankle, feeling soft and fragile, like a piece of pure lotus root—delicate and tender, yet surprisingly resilient under his touch.

“Luckily, you came back... or I would’ve had to tell Second Sister and Little Sixth about your secret...” She noticed his lack of attention and got angry, her foot instinctively stretching forward to kick him, “Hey, Xie Que Shan, are you listening to me…?”

Suddenly, her voice caught in her throat—she seemed to have kicked something formidable. Even through his clothes, she could feel its hardness and heat.

A thunderous sensation exploded in his body. He suddenly lifted his head, forgetting to hide his gaze. It was raw, intense, and filled with desire.

He gritted his teeth, trying to hold back. She had to provoke him like this.

Not knowing what got into him, he lightly brushed his hand across the bottom of her foot as if in retaliation. She gasped and tried to pull her leg back, but he anticipated it and tightened his grip, pulling her leg forward.

Back and forth, and she ended up pinned beneath him.

Their heated bodies pressed together, hearts beating in sync, as if they had won another day from the hands of death.