Mu Shi'an's hand trembled slightly the moment it touched Song Nianchu's waist.
Were all women's waists this soft and slender?
His heartbeat quickened, and he leaned in closer.
Song Nianchu could feel his movements—his warm breath brushed against her neck, sending a shiver through her chest.
Noticing her reaction, Mu Shi'an paused.
After a long moment, as if to soothe her, he pressed a gentle kiss to her neck.
Her body stiffened instantly, the delicate sensation making her scalp tingle.
He seems so skilled… Has he done this before?
We didn’t even have a premarital checkup—what if there’s something wrong with him?
When she didn’t resist, Mu Shi'an cautiously let his hand wander further.
But Song Nianchu suddenly grabbed his wrist, flipped him onto his back, and pinned him beneath her.
Mu Shi'an was stunned, his expression blank as he stared at her striking face, now inches from his own.
"Your technique doesn’t seem like a first-timer’s. Have you done this before?" she demanded.
Still dazed, he didn’t catch her words.
"Look, I’m not accusing you. I just want to make sure you’re healthy. Your past partners… they were clean, right?" she pressed, misreading his silence as confirmation.
She’d assumed people in this era were more conservative, but after seeing those risqué books, she wasn’t so sure.
Finally, Mu Shi'an processed her question.
"I’ve never had a partner before."
"Never? So this is your first time?" she gasped.
"...Yes." Even with his usual composure, being asked Are you a virgin? by his new wife while she straddled him was mortifying.
"You’re a virgin? Then how were you so… good just now?" She frowned, then brightened. "Oh! You’ve read those illustrated books too, huh?"
"No—" He tried to explain, but she barreled on.
"No wonder you were so calm earlier. You’ve seen it all in pictures!"
Mu Shi'an: "…"
He sighed inwardly. Denying it seemed pointless, but admitting it wasn’t true either. Meeting her sparkling gaze, he rasped,
"Should we… keep going?"
The question jolted Song Nianchu. Suddenly hyperaware of their entangled bodies, she froze.
Moonlight streamed through the window, etching Mu Shi'an’s sharp features into something ethereal. When he looked at her like this—intense, unwavering—it felt like falling into the depths of his dark, ocean-deep eyes.
She answered by crashing her lips onto his.
Just as she’d imagined, his mouth was impossibly soft, addicting. But her inexperience showed; she could only clumsily brush her lips against his.
Mu Shi'an snapped out of his daze. Sensing her hesitation, he took control.
His hand cradled the back of her head, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss.
The room’s temperature spiked. Their breaths tangled, frantic. Just as Song Nianchu reached for the hem of his undershirt—
Tap. Scratch.
A faint noise at the window.
She jerked away, shoving Mu Shi'an back.
Dazed and breathless, he stared at her, lips parted in confusion.
Without explanation, she leapt off the bed and yanked open the window—revealing five or six children crammed outside.
"Uh-oh! We’re caught—run!" The oldest boy yelled, bolting.
The others scattered. Song Nianchu snagged one by the collar, lifting him effortlessly.
"A-Chu sis, let me go! I didn’t mean it!" The kid kicked his tiny legs in midair.
"What were you doing outside my window?" she growled, feigning sternness.
"Grandpa Village Chief said you were ‘entering the bridal chamber’ tonight! We wanted to see what your man looks like!"
(Their actual plan: to check if the guy brave enough to marry Song Nianchu had three heads and six arms.)
Instead, they’d squabbled over the best viewing spot, missed the groom entirely, and now he was captured. Worst. Mission. Ever.
Song Nianchu smacked the brat’s butt, hard.
"YOWCH!" He clutched his rear, howling.
"Tiny as a bean sprout, yet nosey as a gossip granny. Next time you peek through my window, I’ll turn your backside into fireworks. Got it?"
"YES! NEVER AGAIN!"
She dropped him. The kid sprinted off without a backward glance, as if demons chased him.
Watching him flee, she laughed, then firmly latched the window. She’d left it ajar for air earlier and forgotten to close it in the evening’s chaos.
"Kids?" Mu Shi'an propped himself up on one elbow.
"Yeah. Probably curious who’d dare marry me," she said wryly.
Her notorious reputation usually kept troublemakers away—except, apparently, these little rascals.
Mu Shi'an didn’t know how to respond.
"Window’s shut now. Let’s sleep." She climbed back into bed.
The mood was thoroughly ruined.
He noticed but said nothing, simply lying down beside her.
"Goodnight," she murmured.
"…Goodnight."
Soon, her breathing steadied into sleep.
After a pause, Mu Shi'an turned to study her.
In slumber, she looked softer than in daylight. His gaze traced her brows, the slope of her nose, down to her slightly swollen lips—his eyes darkening.
His body’s response refused to quiet. Only when certain she was asleep did he slip outside.
The faint sound of running water soon echoed from the bathroom.
