The flame of the paired dragon-and-phoenix candles on the table flickered, casting a warm and quiet glow against her porcelain-like face.
His gaze faltered slightly as he reached out to touch her cheek.
She frowned in discomfort, turning onto her side to face inward.
His fingers paused mid-air, stiffening.
A vein throbbed at his temple—she actually disliked him!
With a sullen expression, he lay back on the bed, his chest tight with frustration. After a moment, he turned over, his dark eyes fixed on the back of her head.
Moving carefully, he inched closer until he was behind her, then gently wrapped an arm around her waist. He lifted his head slightly to glance at her—she remained deep in sleep, her eyes firmly shut.
Whether from exhaustion or an unconscious trust that left her unguarded against his closeness, she didn’t stir.
A flicker of satisfaction warmed his mood. He nuzzled the top of her hair and cautiously tightened his embrace, drawing her fully into his arms.
The next morning.
A knock sounded at the door, followed by Xia Zhu’s voice: "Madam, it’s time to rise."
Today was the first day after the wedding—tea ceremonies awaited, and oversleeping was out of the question.
Sang Ning drowsily opened her eyes, her vision blurry as she vaguely registered a man’s face before her.
Her mind blanked for two breaths before she snapped fully awake, meeting He Siyu’s strikingly handsome features at close range.
Then it hit her—she was married now.
Her initially clenched heart relaxed, only to tense again when she realized how tightly he held her. Her brows furrowed slightly as she pushed against him.
His lashes fluttered before he sleepily opened his eyes. "Hmm?"
She lowered her gaze, avoiding the intensity of his proximity. "Third Master, we must rise."
Only then did he release her. She immediately sat up and slipped out of bed.
Clad in nothing but a thin sleeping robe, the movement tugged her collar askew, baring one shoulder. Against her jade-like skin, the slender red ribbon of her undergarment stood out vividly.
His throat moved, his eyes darkening.
By then, she had already stepped away. Xia Zhu and the other maids entered with basins to assist her in washing up.
Sang Ning glanced back at the bed, where he still hadn’t moved, and reminded him, "Third Master, we must prepare. The tea ceremony is today."
Though last night had been fraught with tension, appearances had to be maintained. On such an important occasion, neither could afford to be absent.
He averted his gaze, tone indifferent. "Right."
Noting his pallor, she asked politely, "Did you sleep poorly last night?"
He Siyu drew a slow breath, suppressing the restless heat coiled in his body. "Indeed, I didn’t."
Sang Ning pressed with earnest concern, "Why not?"
He lifted his eyes, pinning her with a look. "You clung to me relentlessly."
Her composed expression nearly cracked.
"I never—" Her temple throbbed, the words "clung to you" lodging in her throat.
He rose and approached, his dark gaze trapping her. "You kept burrowing into my arms in your sleep. Holding you was the only way to manage it."
Her pupils constricted—she couldn’t believe she’d done such a thing!
Impossible!
Her voice stiffened. "I’ve shared beds with my sisters before. They all say I sleep quietly."
A faint smirk curled his lips. "Is that so? Seems you reserve such behavior for me alone."
Sang Ning: ???
Since when was he the exception?!
But his certainty made her doubt herself. After all, she had woken up in his embrace.
She clung to composure, though her ears burned. "I don’t recall..."
He didn’t argue, magnanimously conceding, "Never mind. Let’s forget it. I’m not one to dwell on trivialities."
Sang Ning: "..."
Her chest tightened with stifled irritation.
He stepped forward again, and she instinctively retreated.
His hand lifted toward her face.
She tensed, her expression turning wary. "If Third Master dislikes my proximity, best keep your distance."
Yet his fingers brushed past her cheek, reaching behind her to pluck a long, navy-blue hair ribbon from the clothing rack.
As he withdrew, the ribbon draped over his fingertips. Her gaze fixed dumbly on it, her porcelain skin flushing scarlet.
He’d only been reaching for something...
Her fists clenched in her sleeves, her jaw taut. Never in her life had she felt so humiliated!
After a steadying breath, she regained her poise. "If my presence disturbs your rest, Third Master may take another room."
She’d be glad to never see him again!
His tone was breezy. "Separate rooms so soon after marrying? How would we explain that to the elders?"
Her retort stuck in her throat.
Since when did he care about elders’ opinions? Wasn’t he the rebellious scourge who even defied his own father?
He shrugged. "Splitting up isn’t proper. I’ll adapt."
Sang Ning tried to summon a polite smile but failed. Right now, she wanted to shove his face into the washbasin!
Her voice was flat. "I must dress now. Third Master, attend to your own preparations."
Instead of leaving, he began winding the ribbon slowly around his right hand.
Each deliberate loop coiled around his fingers, binding them like a silent provocation.
Her eyes were helplessly drawn to that hand.
His fingers were long and elegant, the ribbon weaving over his palm, half-concealing the veins that pulsed beneath—restrained yet brimming with latent strength.
Her gaze lingered.
He leaned in, his voice low. "Do you like this ribbon?"
She startled, meeting his penetrating stare—as if he’d glimpsed her thoughts.
Her pulse quickened, a flicker of panic in her eyes before she stiffened. "No."
"Really?" His tone was light. "You were staring so intently, I assumed you did."
An odd tension thickened the air, a palpable force that made the room feel stifling despite the open windows.
Her lips pressed tight. "I was merely looking."
For a fleeting moment, she wondered if he’d guessed her mind.
But how could he?
His lips curved. With his left hand, he tugged one end of the ribbon, unraveling it from his right.
He lifted it, dangling the strip before her. "Take it."
"No need—"
He caught her hand and pressed the ribbon into her palm, his voice layered with meaning. "We’re husband and wife. No need for formalities."
The ribbon burned against her skin.
He Siyu’s smile deepened, satisfaction settling in his chest.
Just as he’d thought—even in this life, she still responded to this game.
