Chu'he and Ninth were both experiencing love for the first time, and many things were a process of mutual exploration—kissing included. At first, they were clumsy and awkward, but after several attempts, they had learned how to give each other moments to catch their breath amidst the tangle of lips and tongues.
Then they would entwine again, exchanging warmth and breath.
Lately, however, Ninth had been a little too enthusiastic.
Chu'he couldn’t take it and leaned back slightly, but Ninth immediately chased after her, pressing the back of her head and capturing her tongue once more, his warmth surging deeper into her mouth.
Her grip faltered, and the short flute in her hand nearly slipped to the ground. But Ninth’s hand swiftly wrapped around hers—his fingers long and distinct, pressing firmly between each of hers, revealing the possessiveness buried in his bones.
Just as Chu'he was losing herself, a noise came from nearby.
Worried someone might see, she tapped Ninth’s chest. After a long moment, he finally withdrew, gripping her chin and swiping his tongue over her damp lips, his crimson eyes brimming with discontent.
“I think someone’s calling for help,” Chu'he said, her tongue aching slightly as she spoke. Clearing her throat, she tugged Ninth’s hand. “Let’s go see.”
The area was often frequented by hunters, who dug pits and covered them with branches and leaves to trap prey.
Normally, these pits were marked to prevent accidents, but last night’s heavy rain might have washed the signs away—and today, someone had fallen in.
“Is anyone there?”
A young woman stood in the pit, one foot twisted, her balance unsteady. She looked disheveled, her face etched with worry that she might be trapped.
Soon, two figures appeared above.
“Please, help me!” the woman pleaded immediately.
Recognizing her face, Chu'he was startled. “Miss Lin?”
The woman blinked in confusion. “You’ve mistaken me for someone else. I’m not surnamed Lin—I’m Miss Lan.”
Chu'he tugged at Ninth beside her.
Still displeased at being interrupted, Ninth crossed his arms, watching indifferently. “Why pull me?”
“Ninth, look—doesn’t she look just like that Miss Lin from the clinic in Canghaizhou?”
Ninth answered dismissively, “Maybe.”
As mentioned before, Ninth didn’t pay much attention to women’s appearances. He had his own ways of recognizing people—though he could recall every tiny detail about Chu'he, from the fine hairs on her face to the creases between her brows when she was annoyed.
Chu'he studied the young woman more carefully. At first glance, she did resemble Miss Lin, but only vaguely—they weren’t identical.
Miss Lin had been gentle and serene, while this Miss Lan seemed more lively and sweet.
Miss Lan explained, “I was returning from the market when I fell into this trap. My husband is waiting for me, and if I don’t return soon, he’ll worry. Please, help me out.”
Chu'he tugged Ninth’s sleeve again.
With a sigh, Ninth glanced at a nearby vine and kicked it into the pit.
Soon, Miss Lan climbed out, dusting herself off and wiping the dirt from her face. “Thank you both. Here—these are fruits I bought at the market. Please accept them as my thanks.”
She opened a cloth bundle, revealing bright red berries. Some were slightly bruised, their flesh softening.
Chu'he gasped. “Strawberries? How are there strawberries here?”
Miss Lan replied, “Wutong Village has been growing these for a hundred years. But they’re delicate and require great care, so the yield is low, and they’re quite expensive.”
“No, I mean—this era…” Chu'he paused, rephrasing. “Why do strawberries exist here?”
Miss Lan smiled. “The elders say that a century ago, a young couple passed through. The wife carried seeds and claimed this land was perfect for growing something called ‘strawberries,’ so she left them behind.”
She added warmly, “My husband loves them, so I went to the market early to buy some. Please take these—it’s the least I can do.”
Chu'he stared at the strawberries, her thoughts tangled. The mention of a Miss Lin—Lin Daiyu—flashed through her mind, but she couldn’t make sense of it.
Noticing her distraction, Ninth murmured, “Chu'he?”
She snapped back to reality and placed a strawberry in his hand. “It’s a sweet fruit. You’ll like it.”
Ninth examined the berry curiously before trying to pop it into his mouth. Chu'he quickly snatched it back, blew off the dust, and offered it again.
He took a small bite from the tip, and as the sweetness spread, his eyes lit up.
Seeing his delight, Chu'he smiled, about to feed him the rest—but Ninth grabbed her wrist and turned the strawberry toward her lips.
“You have some too.”
She took a bite. The fruit was indeed sweet, but her confusion only deepened. How could a fruit from the future appear in this remote village? And who were that young couple from a century ago?
“Yingying! Yingying!”
A man’s anxious voice called from nearby. Miss Lan brightened. “That’s my husband!”
Limping toward the sound, she waved. “I’m here!”
Soon, a young man rushed over, catching Miss Lan—Lan Yingying—just as she stumbled.
Chu'he remarked, “They seem very devoted.”
Ninth picked up another strawberry, mimicking Chu'he by blowing on it before biting and offering her the rest. “Are they happier than us?”
“They’re them, we’re us—how can you compare? Wait—that girl’s name is Lan Yingying?”
Suddenly remembering something, Chu'he’s eyes widened as she turned to look.
Just then, Lan Yingying explained her rescue to her husband, and the young man glanced over—locking eyes with Chu'he.
“Cough—!”
Chu'he choked on her strawberry. Ninth patted her back gently. “If you like them, I won’t fight you for them. No need to panic.”
Her expression twisted as if she’d swallowed a fly. She looked between Ninth and the approaching man, instinctively gripping Ninth’s hand to leave—but it was too late. The “couple” stood before them.
“I am Song Chunming, Yingying’s husband. Thank you both for rescuing my wife.”
The gentleman stood three paces away, his plain green robes accentuating his tall, poised figure. His hair was half-tied with a wooden pin, enhancing his refined features—a noble air mingled with an aloofness that melted only in his wife’s presence.
Chu'he's scalp tingled as her eyes darted around, scrutinizing the man from head to toe. Not spotting the fish-shaped jade pendant on him, she exhaled slightly in relief and wiped the cold sweat from her brow.
Soon, however, she heard the young man—Ninth—ask with an amused smirk, "Your surname is Song?"
"Yes, I'm surnamed Song."
Ninth glanced at Lan Yingying beside him. "Is she your wife?"
Song Chunming nodded. "She is."
Ninth's gaze flickered between the two for a moment before he smiled. "Good. May the two of you enjoy a harmonious and everlasting marriage."
Song Chunming and Lan Yingying exchanged a puzzled look.
By then, Ninth had already taken Chu'he's hand, leading her away as she walked distractedly. In high spirits, he hummed a tune—perhaps something he’d picked up in the pleasure quarters.
Chu'he snapped out of her daze and looked up at him. "I thought you were going to give that Mr. Song a hard time."
"I’m shy and introverted, not one for sweet talk, but my heart is pure and kind," Ninth replied cheerfully, the corners of his lips curling. "Why would I trouble him?"
Chu'he: "…"
Ninth leaned down, brushing his thumb over the juice at the corner of her lips, his smile innocent and gentle.
"That Song fellow is already married to another woman. Didn’t you once say, Ah'he, that a man’s most important virtue is chastity?"
"Now that he’s lost his, you’d never look at him twice."
"But I’m different. I’m the adorable ghost you swore to steal away and pamper like treasure—the only one who gets to touch you so intimately…"
A small green snake peeked out from Chu'he’s shoulder and hissed twice.
Ninth’s eyes lit up with realization, and he added with a grin, "My mating rights are reserved for you alone. No one can take them away."
Chu'he smacked the little snake off her shoulder. "Stop teaching him weird things!"
