Perhaps due to his severe injuries and the potent poison, Song Chunming lost his memory once again.
Chu'he wasn’t the least bit surprised by this outcome—after all, the male lead of this world was either losing his memory or on the verge of doing so.
Inside the relatively spacious carriage, the four of them sat facing each other in silence until Fang Songhe finally couldn’t hold back any longer.
"Junior Brother, what do you still remember?"
Though the poison in Song Chunming’s body had been neutralized, his health hadn’t fully recovered. He looked utterly drained, as if he might breathe his last at any moment.
Weakly, he replied, "I only remember my name. Nothing else."
Chu'he studied Song Chunming’s pale face and terrible condition from across the carriage. It was a miracle he could even hold a conversation in this state.
If not for his tenacious will to live, he wouldn’t have gotten off with just another bout of amnesia.
The gaze fixed on her from beside her was far too obvious. Unable to bear it, Chu'he quickly averted her eyes and grabbed Ninth’s hand.
"It’s too stuffy in here. Let’s go outside for some air."
Ninth didn’t say a word but didn’t let go of her hand either, following her as they settled outside the carriage.
The little green snake, perched atop one of the horses’ heads, swayed side to side as if conducting the journey. It glanced back at the newlywed couple and flicked its tongue, as if to say it had everything under control—they didn’t need to interfere.
Ninth shot the snake a look before flicking a pine nut at its head.
The little green snake hadn’t actually done anything wrong; its master was just in a sour mood and taking it out on him. It ducked its head, not daring to draw any more attention.
Ninth had somehow gotten his hands on a pinecone, shelling the nuts not to eat but simply to pass the time.
Every now and then, he stole glances at Chu'he beside him, but she seemed oblivious, lost in thought instead of asking why he was upset.
Chu'he rested her chin in her hands, preoccupied with how to handle the storm awaiting them once they returned home. She wondered how her father would react to the letter she’d sent.
Here it was, only the second day of their marriage. She’d taken his innocence just last night, and now she was acting distant.
Ninth pressed his lips together, leaning back against the carriage door with his arms crossed. He turned his face away, staring at the unremarkable trees and grass by the roadside, his frustration growing with every passing second.
A breeze stirred, snapping Chu'he out of her thoughts. The silence suddenly felt too heavy. When she looked up, she saw only the sharp, beautiful profile of the young man beside her—his long lashes trembling slightly in the wind.
He seemed to be sulking.
She reached out, catching the end of his hair, and leaned closer. Softly, she asked, "Ninth, what’s wrong?"
Finally, she’d bothered to ask.
Ninth turned his eyes to her, a faint, mocking smile on his lips. "Nothing’s wrong."
The forced smile told her everything. But since she couldn’t recall doing anything to upset him, only one explanation came to mind.
"Are you still feeling unwell?"
Ninth choked on his words, quickly covering her mouth in case the others inside heard. "I’m fine," he muttered. "There’s nothing wrong with me."
Her voice was muffled against his palm. "Then why are you upset?"
His expression shifted, a hint of flustered anger coloring his youthful voice. "You lied to me from the very beginning."
Chu'he tensed.
He continued, "What we did last night was the real ‘intimacy.’ Everything before that was just a trick."
Thanks to Chu'he, Ninth had believed that simply holding each other, skin against skin, counted as "intimacy." He’d tried so hard, yet no sign of a "little treasure" ever appeared. He’d even begun to doubt himself, secretly feeling inadequate.
But now he knew—real intimacy was like last night. The way they’d melted into each other, lost in bliss, craving more.
He wanted it again and again, making up for all the time she’d "owed" him.
Chu'he had expected him to bring this up eventually—just not so soon. Under his accusing gaze, she wavered, but soon lifted her chin defiantly.
"I never lied! I said I was willing to be intimate with you. It’s not my fault you never asked how it’s really done."
"But you never corrected me. You let me make a fool of myself."
His voice rose slightly, mixing indignation with embarrassment. Every time he’d pulled her close, rubbing her belly and wondering why no "little treasure" had come—he cringed at the memory.
Chu'he quickly wrapped her arms around him, patting his head. "Alright, alright, it’s my fault. Don’t be angry. Besides… there was a reason."
"What reason?"
She lowered her voice to a whisper. "It… hurts. You know that, don’t you?"
Remembering their first time last night, Ninth’s cheeks burned, his ears turning a deep red.
It had hurt—a lot.
His gaze dropped to the jeweled hairpin in her hair. Every piece she’d worn since leaving Xiaocheng had been chosen by him, just as his own accessories had mostly come from her hands.
Somehow, his anger faded, leaving only warmth.
He laced his fingers with hers and murmured, "Then promise you won’t trick me again."
She met his eyes with a smile. "I promise."
Ninth’s eyes curved happily, leaning in to kiss her—when another carriage emerged from the village in the distance.
"Young Master! Miss!"
The driver, Erlang, waved enthusiastically. The carriage door opened, revealing a plump, fair-skinned young man—though his expression was far from friendly.
The Fat Young Master still held a grudge over being robbed by Ninth and Chu'he.
Erlang pulled up alongside them. "My master and I were passing through Wutong Village, but the place was downright eerie! We almost couldn’t get out. Since the village was deserted, we followed your carriage to safety. You must have defeated the evil spirits there—thank you! We’re forever in your debt!"
The Fat Young Master huffed. "Little Pine, they stole my carriage, my horses, and my grapes. Saving us was the least they could do."
