Chai Xiaomi sighed helplessly, cupping his face in her hands and forcing him to look at her. "Lili, are you afraid of Old Ji?"
This fear wasn’t like a physical, instinctual dread—it seemed more like a reactive trauma from something he had done to frighten her.
"Not at all," he said, his lashes lowering as he gave a faint smile. Yet his gaze remained fixed on the floor, never meeting hers.
"Speaking of which, there are still a few invitations left to write. I’ll go finish them. You’re not feeling well, so don’t push yourself. Get some rest early. Don’t be too worn out on our wedding day to go through with the ceremony."
He didn’t want to talk about it, deliberately changing the subject. Chai Xiaomi pouted helplessly, her eyes drifting to the desk. "Then make sure you write them carefully. Remember the tips Teacher Mimi taught you?"
Wu Li spoke Chinese fluently, but his written characters were awkward and crooked. When preparing the invitations, she had reluctantly taken on the role of calligraphy instructor.
"I remember. Top tight, bottom loose; horizontal strokes thin, vertical strokes thick; sweeping strokes stretched, dots like falling stones."
Before she could react, he bent down, scooped her up horizontally, and gently placed her on the bed.
In the flickering candlelight, he leaned over, using his fingertips to brush the soft wisps of hair from her forehead, one by one carefully removing her hair accessories and earrings.
Then he knelt by her knees.
His hand lightly pressed against her upper abdomen, his voice low. "Is it still painful here?"
"Mm, not anymore." Chai Xiaomi nodded, looking at him. "Thanks to that bowl of congee you made. I feel much better."
The warm, glowing candlelight fell on her soft hair, as if casting a sacred halo around her.
Wu Li’s eyes grew deeper.
His hand, still resting on her upper abdomen, lingered.
His fingertips gently traced the warmth, as if measuring something. Beneath his palm lay her stomach, and just a few inches lower, her lower belly.
There. Flat, soft, warm.
He suddenly thought of the invitations, the upcoming wedding, and the countless nights of togetherness that would follow.
If one day, there…
His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly.
His hand drifted downward a few inches.
When his palm touched her lower belly, his breath became shallow.
"Lili," Chai Xiaomi glanced down at his dazed expression, unsure what he was thinking, and couldn’t help but remind him, "That’s not where the stomach is. Where are you pressing?"
The boy snapped his head up to look at her.
The tassels of his earrings swayed lightly, brushing against his striking jawline, their silver shimmer making his features gleam brilliantly.
The next moment, he suddenly raised three fingers and declared with solemn gravity, "Mimi, I swear—"
Chai Xiaomi froze, instinctively interrupting him. "Wait, you’re going to make a vow now? It’s not even the wedding day yet—this isn’t the time for vows."
But after a moment’s thought, she decided to indulge him. He was marrying for the first time, and she was too, so consider it a rehearsal.
She bit her lip, then relented. "Alright, go ahead. I’m listening."
The corners of his mouth lifted. There was a pleading warmth in his smile, mixed with a rare seriousness. "I swear that I will absolutely become a good father.
Today, Wu Li swears this: If I fail, let my punishment be to spend a lifetime shelling sunflower seeds for my wife, picking fishbones from her food, and warming her bed. Every morning, I’ll braid her hair and paint her brows; every night, I’ll rub her shoulders and tap her legs. I’ll come at her call without a single complaint."
His voice paused, then suddenly dropped low, husky almost to the point of seduction: “So, my good Mimi, how about you give me a child?”
Before Chai Xiaomi could react, he had already lowered his head.
He buried his face against her lower abdomen.
A reverent kiss landed there.
His scorching breath seeped through the fabric into her skin, and Chai Xiaomi trembled slightly, her face instantly turning bright red.
“Do you even know how to take care of a kid? Asking for one so casually.”
He still carried that youthful air about him, and yet he was already thinking about being a father.
“Of course I do,” he said matter-of-factly. “Hongjiao, Ah Nan, and all those venomous insects—didn’t I raise them all?”
Chai Xiaomi: “...Those are just pets. It’s not the same.”
As if eager to prove himself, he rested his chin on her knee and looked up at her. “What about me? I raised your Lili too. Take a good look—didn’t I do a fine job?”
Chai Xiaomi’s heart skipped a beat.
How had she never noticed this adorable side of him before?
She deliberately put on a stern face, gave him a thorough once-over, then solemnly reached out and pinched his chin, turning it left and right. “Not bad—eyes are eyes, nose is a nose. Too bad about that mouth, though. There’s a defect in the factory settings.”
She couldn’t hold it in and burst out laughing.
Wu Li didn’t understand the last line, but he guessed it wasn’t anything nice. He narrowed his eyes instantly, his tone slow and drawn out: “Now, tell me—which little lady was shameless enough to claim she was carrying my child in her belly? Lying isn’t proper, but I can make an effort to help you cover up that lie.”
At that, Chai Xiaomi’s face turned as red as a boiled shrimp.
Especially when he deliberately emphasized the words “make an effort” with a meaningful tone.
“Who... who needs you to cover up my lie!” Chai Xiaomi turned her face away, cheeks flushed. “I already confessed to Sister Yao. I’m not pregnant... People saw through it long ago—there’s no need to keep up the act...”
Her face grew redder as she spoke, and in the end, she simply burrowed into the blanket. Her muffled voice came through:
“Anyway, anyway—don’t you work too hard! You’re still young, and I’m still young too. Let’s wait a couple of years before talking about kids!”
With that, she buried herself deeper, leaving only the tips of her reddened ears visible.
Chai Xiaomi stayed buried for a while.
Then, suddenly, she realized a serious problem.
This was completely out of her control.
In ancient times, there were no safety measures. Women who didn’t want children usually drank contraception potions—but she hadn’t.
She sat bolt upright, clutching her stomach in panic.
Could it already be...?
No way—she was only nineteen! Though that wasn’t considered young for ancient women, to her, she wasn’t ready yet!
Seeing Chai Xiaomi frowning at her stomach in distress, Wu Li reached out and pinched her cheek. “Don’t worry. The bloodline of the Wu Gu tribe follows the flow of the Gu force. I haven’t infused my Gu force, so there’s no risk for now.”
His eyes met hers with sincerity. “I’ll wait until you’re ready.”
Over the next three days of preparations,
Chai Xiaomi barely had to lift a finger. She only went to the shop to pick her wedding dress and get measured.
Since she had an upset stomach, Wu Li told her to rest in her room and took care of everything himself. The young man, who usually avoided interacting with people, actually went around asking everyone about the wedding arrangements, leaving no detail overlooked.
In the afternoon, Chai Xiaomi lounged by the window, nibbling on a peach. From a distance, she caught sight of a familiar figure on the street.
She squinted and saw that it was Wu Li, sitting beside an old melon-selling woman’s stall, holding a brush and paper. As the old woman spoke, he diligently noted down every word.
Granny Wang, at the stall, was grinning from ear to ear.
Ever since this handsome young man had taken a seat there, the melon business had inexplicably picked up.
Those who came and went were mostly young ladies. Even noble maidens had their sedan chairs lowered, dismissed their attendants, and stepped forward themselves to ask for prices.
“On the wedding day, when the bride enters the door, her feet can’t touch the ground, you know,” Granny Wang said while flipping the melons.
Wu Li lowered his head and carefully jotted it down. His silver ornaments swayed gently with his movements. His brush paused. “Then… should I carry her in?” he asked.
“Oh, don’t carry her! You have to carry her on your back! That’s the custom!”
The young man furrowed his brows slightly, as if pondering the difference between carrying and piggybacking. In the end, he obediently wrote down the word “carry” (on one’s back), even tracing it twice for emphasis.
“Also, before you enter the bridal chamber on your wedding night, remember to drink the union wine. The cups should be tied together with a red string. After drinking, toss them under the bed—one upside down, one upright. That’s an omen of great luck and joy!”
Granny Wang craned her neck to peek at the paper, which was densely covered with Miao script, occasionally mixed with a few Chinese characters. She couldn’t read it, so she chuckled and teased him: “Young Miao man, didn’t expect that marrying our Central Plains girl would be so complicated, did you?”
Without looking up, still intent on finishing the last few characters he hadn’t completed, he replied, “Not complicated at all. Marrying her is the simplest thing in the world.”
