Chapter 670: A Sleepless Night of Storm and Rain

The Earl's Mansion, Jia Cong's courtyard.

In the courtyard, heavy rain poured down, thunder and lightning lashed together as if heaven and earth had collapsed; upon the bed, snow-white skin gleamed, a slender, graceful form lay in endless, alluring beauty.

Zhi Shao hugged her arms to her chest, trembling, searching for many topics to speak of, utterly shy and awkward, her words filled with adorable evasion.

Jia Cong spread the thin quilt over the bed, covering the tender, radiant body, his voice soft as he humored her with idle chatter.

"Cong Sanye, back when we were in the East Courtyard, you said we've been together since childhood—have we ever, ever been like this…?"

"I don't mean like this as lovers—I mean… Cong Sanye knows what I mean."

Since re-entering the mansion, Zhi Shao had heard many stories of the masters and maids; now, flustered and at a loss, she suddenly recalled this line.

She had always been curious about those hazy memories, feeling as if a piece of her heart was missing.

Jia Cong smiled and said: "Back in the East Courtyard, once I was badly beaten by the Elder Master and nearly died; when I woke up, I'd forgotten much.

But gradually, I remembered— you entered the mansion at six, shorter than a chair.

I can't recall what you looked like then, only that you were an unremarkable little girl, nothing like how beautiful you've grown.

The mansion's custom: when young masters and ladies were children, their personal maids had to share the bed to warm the quilts each autumn and winter.

At first, every winter, we slept together; but when you turned nine, it was no longer proper.

Back then, I was neglected; my room often didn't get good charcoal in winter. You dared not light firewood inside at night, afraid of accidents.

So every evening after sunset, you lit a brazier in the corridor, placed my quilt atop it to warm, so I could sleep soundly.

You feared the quilt might catch fire, so you stayed in the corridor, your face and hands turning red from the cold; when you came in, you'd pout and beg me to warm you.

You were barely ten, yet had to manage daily life with such thoughtfulness—how hard it must have been…"

…

This night was meant to be their wedding night—no sedan chair, no red bridal attire, no guests flooding the gate; only the two of them whispering softly, murmuring, recounting old memories.

Zhi Shao, lulled by Jia Cong's gentle words, felt her spirit dazed and serene, as if floating among clouds.

Jia Cong, lost in memories, could not suppress his affection; one hand slipped beneath the thin quilt, wandering up and down.

Snowy skin, soft and tender; in a haze, half-revealed beauty…

Zhi Shao cried out, twisting and turning, trying to escape the playful teasing of his touch, but her half-resisting, half-accepting dodges never succeeded.

His restless hand made her pant heavily, her body limp, her arms clutching her chest slowly loosening.

Allowing his hand to reach her back, to untie the strings of her belly-band.

Whether from his agitated confusion or because it was his first time touching such a thing on a girl,

his usual brilliance and wisdom vanished; he tugged at the strings for ages, only making them tighter, as if the loose knot had turned into a dead one.

Zhi Shao, feeling his fumbling against her back, skin scraped and tickled, giggled helplessly.

Hearing her laugh, Jia Cong grew even more flustered, resolved to untangle the mess—couldn't let the girl laugh at him.

Zhi Shao couldn't help whispering: "Cong Sanye, you're pulling it wrong, wrong…"

Jia Cong stared at the tangled strings, utterly defeated, finally gave up.

He muttered, half-resentful: "Zhi Shao, this thing of yours is strange—so tricky. Did you tie it yourself?"

He even reached behind, trying to imagine the motion, yet found it unimaginable.

Zhi Shao's face flushed crimson, forgetting even her shyness; she burst into a laugh, covering her lips with her hand, her bright eyes sparkling with mischievous delight.

Jia Cong smiled and proposed: "Zhi Shao, let's just ditch this belly-band. I'll buy you the finest one—any number you want, any style you like."

Zhi Shao held back her laughter, shook her head: "No, I learned border embroidery from Qingwen—this took me a lot of effort to stitch.

I've only worn it a few days—it's still brand-new—and I never wear store-bought things; only what I make myself."

Jia Cong gave a wry smile: "Zhi Shao, you don't expect me to sew one for you, do you? That's harder than passing the imperial exams with an eight-legged essay."

Zhi Shao burst out laughing again, extending her bare, jade arm to gently stroke Jia Cong's face.

From his bright eyes, to his high, straight nose, to his perfectly defined lips—her beautiful eyes shimmered with boundless affection.

Blushing, she said: "I could never let Cong Sanye do such a thing—I'll make it myself, and… I'll make it in the style you like."

Jia Cong, unable to resist teasing her further: "I like this style."

Zhi Shao felt her whole body burn; her voice dropped to barely a whisper: "Then I'll make them all like this…"

Jia Cong kissed her cheek, then slipped his hand behind her, tugged gently—and with a soft rip, the beautiful belly-band tore apart.

This time, he didn't toss it beyond the curtains; he placed it gently beside the pillow.

With the last barrier gone, Zhi Shao grew bolder.

Her bright eyes regarded him with a touch of helplessness.

This only stoked his mischief; he climbed atop her slender, trembling form, soft and fragrant.

The girl, overwhelmed with shame, whispered tremulously: "Cong Sanye, be gentle…"

Jia Cong gently lifted the thin quilt, exploring the lush, moist valleys, the undulating hills, their exquisite contours drawing him in endlessly…

On the dressing table, the two red candles burned fiercely in the stormy night wind, their flames glowing brightly, flickering uncertainly.

The candlelight pierced the semi-translucent, ivory-colored gauze curtains, casting a pink glow that illuminated the bed's interior clearly, yet left it mysteriously ambiguous.

Within the curtains, the girl's slender, graceful body, pure as jade, rose and fell in exquisite curves—making all beauty in the world pale in comparison…

Jia Cong carefully leaned over; Zhi Shao's body reacted instinctively, her slender waist tightening and arching.

Though appearing delicate and slender, her body revealed astonishing flexibility, drawing Jia Cong into a silky, full, delicate embrace—his spirit and soul intoxicated.

At the moment of contact, the girl let out a sigh-like cry, as if the surge of desire had resonated deep within her soul.

Her long, jade legs instinctively kicked and struggled on the bed, until Jia Cong reached out, embracing her smooth, slender, elastic curves, and she slowly stilled.

Outside, the rain still poured relentlessly; the dense, noisy patter drowned out the muffled moans and gasps within the curtains.

Skin pressed to skin ignited every flame within their hearts—as if it could burn all the world to ash…

Zhi Shao's youthful body gradually adapted to the soul-stealing caresses; her tense waist unfurled like a blooming bud, slowly opening.

She instinctively wrapped her arms around his solid waist; when he gently lifted his head from her shoulder, she let him kiss her lips.

The drifting rain outside, the low thunder, the fleeting flash of lightning across the sky—all drowned out her cry.

Night rain and wind poured into the room, stirring the gauze curtains, rippling them in waves.

Within the curtains, faint gasps and moans, muffled sobs, rose continuously.

Even as Zhi Shao's mind sank into chaos, her jade arms clung tightly to Jia Cong's waist, unwilling to let go.

The red candle on the dressing table burned brightly, dripping molten crimson wax, illuminating the restless, trembling scene within the curtains…

Finally, the half-burned candle could no longer withstand the storm's fury; after a final sway, it abruptly went out.

The room plunged into darkness, save for the two young figures entwined within the gauze curtains, whispering tenderly, their love unceasing.

…

The night's wind ceased, the rain ended; faint light filtered through the glass windowpanes, the room awakening from darkness.

The gauze curtains stirred slightly; a smooth, luminous jade arm reached out, fumbling back and forth on the floor.

The other hand inside the curtains clutched the curtain's edge tightly—even though no one else was in the room, Zhi Shao seemed afraid of revealing the intimate scene within.

Each time she touched clothing, she quietly pulled it back inside; finding it wrong, she gently tossed it out again, as if not wanting Jia Cong to know she'd touched the clothes on the floor.

After two attempts, she finally found a top—her heart leapt, though it was Jia Cong's undergarment.

She slipped it on, then dared to emerge from the curtains, only to realize—the belly-band had been torn by Cong Sanye, impossible to wear again.

Though the room remained dim, the glass window had let in faint light—far more helpful than blindly groping on the floor.

Among the scattered clothes, she found her own silk trousers; glancing at the sleeping Jia Cong, her cheeks flushed.

She dressed with the lightest motions, barefoot stepped from the bed, her long hair cascading past her waist, radiating an unusual languor and charm. She groped for her embroidered slippers, slipped them on, stood up—then clutched her lower abdomen, her brows furrowing slightly, sitting back down on the bed's edge.

After a brief pause, she bit her lip carefully, rose again, shuffled a few steps, slowly adjusting—her face flushed crimson.

She walked toward the south wall, where a large inlaid-shell carved wardrobe stood.

The lower shelf held the spare clothes of Zhi Shao, Wu'er, Zhen Ying Lady Lian, Qingwen, and others.

Since they took turns keeping watch in Jia Cong's room, each had left one or two sets of clothes there in advance, for emergencies.

But before she reached the wardrobe, she suddenly remembered something, and slowly shuffled to the dressing table—the window there was still half-closed.

Outside, the courtyard was pitch-black; the morning breeze blew through, scattering her long hair wildly, her lovely face pale as jade in the night.

She reached out and shut the window completely, then felt her way to the door; last night, when she'd asked, Jia Cong had soothed her by saying the door was locked.

She touched it—the door was indeed shut, but the bolt wasn't inserted; she gently slid the bolt into place, afraid of making noise and waking Jia Cong.

Yet she muttered under her breath: "Cong Sanye loves to deceive."

When she finally reached the wardrobe, her physical discomfort had somewhat faded.

!

But when she opened the wardrobe door, Zhi Shao felt a headache coming on.

Outside, it was only faintly light; the room remained dark.

Finding her own set among the piled clothes without lighting a candle seemed impossible.

She felt a little discouraged, and returned to the dressing table, taking the half-burned red candle.

She felt for the tinderbox, lit it, turned her back to the bed, shielding the flickering light.

Carrying the candle back to the wardrobe, she finally found her undergarment—and a pale blue bustier.

She also found Jia Cong's clean undergarment, hugged both sets, and returned to the bed.

She placed her own clothes on the empty stool beside the bed, then folded Jia Cong's atop them.

Gently lifting the thin quilt, she slipped quietly back into the warmth, glanced at the still-sleeping Jia Cong, and smiled.

She touched the undergarment she wore—felt something was off—it shouldn't be like this…

So she gently undressed, her luminous jade arm once more extending beyond the curtains, tossing the removed clothes back onto the floor—as if nothing had happened.

She gathered her long, waterfall-like hair slightly, piling it beside the jade-silk pillow, then moved silently to lean back into Jia Cong's arms.

Feeling Jia Cong's steady breath against her forehead, she felt a quiet peace; soon, fatigue washed over her, and she drifted into sweet sleep again.

…

When the light gradually brightened across the stained-glass windows, Jia Cong opened his eyes and felt the silken, smooth warmth of a body pressed tightly against him, radiating a sweet, soothing fragrance.

That unusual sense of fulfillment still made his chest burn, as if he had been soaked in warm broth.

He turned his head and saw Zhi Shao lying on her side beside him, lost in deep, fragrant slumber.

In the dim, flickering morning light within the canopy, he studied the woman beside him—her lustrous hair piled in countless strands beside the pillow.

Her flawless, smooth forehead; long, dark, elegant brows; cheeks flushed like jade tinged with rose; long, curved lashes resting over closed eyes.

Her soft, pink lips, like blooming petals, stirred in him the urge to take a bite.

Jia Cong felt his right arm sunk deep into soft, slippery warmth—Zhi Shao had curled it around herself in her sleep, unwilling to let go even in dreams.

Yet Jia Cong found it strange: he remembered Zhi Shao sleeping on the inside last night—why had she shifted position by morning?

He reached out and pulled back the bed curtains, seeing their clothes still scattered on the floor, but a fresh set neatly folded on the low stool beside the bed.

Suddenly he understood—Zhi Shao must have risen to tend to things. He couldn't help but kiss her forehead.

Zhi Shao rubbed her eyes awake, her bright gaze clear as water, glowing with a radiance she had never shown before. They exchanged a smile, silent yet profoundly warm.

Jia Cong reluctantly withdrew his arm from her embrace, threading it through her thick hair to rest against her neck, then pulled her tightly into his arms.

Zhi Shao whispered, "Cong Sanye," resting her head in the hollow of his shoulder, smiling as she closed her eyes, savoring the quiet comfort.

Jia Cong felt the astonishing softness and elasticity in his arms, and desire surged through him…

Zhi Shao sensed the change in his body, understood at once, her face flushing crimson. She shut her eyes, refusing to look at him, as if offering her neck to the blade.

Seeing her tension, Jia Cong recalled she was newly broken in, and last night had already been excessive—he shouldn't indulge further.

He kissed her forehead and the corner of her lips, held her tighter, breathing in her familiar, sweet fragrance.

He thought of that world, now growing hazy—he had been a fortunate but ordinary man.

He had a stable, beloved job; though it never made him rich, it ensured comfort, and he had never harbored great ambitions.

He had known love and women—not good or bad, but the women he met always seemed to desire more than he did.

The coldness of reality, the insatiable hunger of desire—until he left that world, he and his women had coexisted in quiet harmony.

Yet they were merely two ordinary people, powerless against the clash of material cravings, like caged beasts struggling in vain.

Hence the scattered feathers, the mutual compromises, the hollow appearances.

Many around him lived this way—through seemingly peaceful days, asking themselves in silence: impoverished, empty-handed.

He remembered the eastern courtyard's grain storehouse, snow falling heavily in winter, a little girl warming a quilt on a brazier in the corridor.

She stood alone beside the brazier, too afraid to leave, stamping her feet against the cold, blowing warm breath onto her reddened, frozen hands…

She had merely been a bonded maid, with no noble birth, her family origins unknown to all.

To many, she was insignificant—now, she was wholly and completely his woman.

In Jia Cong's eyes, she was his most stable, complete possession—whether he fell into ruin or now prospered, she stayed by his side, never leaving.

This world, though still treacherous and full of deceit, held many things that made him pause, many earthly attachments.

They had given him, for the first time, a brightness he had never known before.

They made the things worth protecting feel more concrete, more certain.

…

Seeing that Jia Cong made no move, Zhi Shao's heated gaze cleared, and she smiled, snuggling closer into his arms.

Jia Cong sat up, reached for his clothes from the low stool beside the bed, and prepared to dress.

Zhi Shao also sat up, wrapping herself in the thin quilt, asking, "Cong Sanye, are you rising?"

Jia Cong smiled. "Dawn is near. Qingwen and the others will come to attend me—I should rise first."

Zhi Shao blushed. If it had been her or Zhen Ying Lady Lian on night duty, Qingwen and Wu'er always brought hot water for his morning wash at the proper hour.

If they saw her like this, she'd be mortified before Qingwen even had a chance to tease her…

"Then I'll rise too—I'll help you wash and dress."

She pulled the quilt tighter, preparing to rise and dress, but moved too abruptly, clutching her lower abdomen with a soft "Oh!" and turning bright red.

Jia Cong laughed, wrapped his arm around her slender waist, and drew her back onto the bed.

"No need to rise so early today. Stay in bed and rest. They'll come in to attend me later."

Zhi Shao blushed, reaching out to fasten the buttons of Jia Cong's robe. "Then let me dress you."

After Jia Cong had donned his inner robe, Zhi Shao went to fetch her own clothes and noticed he was still sitting on the edge of the bed, watching.

She felt uneasy under his gaze; Jia Cong smiled and turned away, hearing a rustle behind him.

When he turned back, he saw Zhi Shao wearing a pale blue under-bodice that made her skin glow like snow, now slipping into a soft, emerald-green silk top.

Seeing him turn, she frowned. "Cong Sanye, I'm not dressed yet."

Jia Cong smiled and reached out to fasten the buttons of her top. "You've always dressed me—this time, let me help you."

Zhi Shao smiled faintly, letting him dress her, fastening each button from her slender waist up to the collar. Such intimacy—she had never dared let him do it before.

At that moment, shadows appeared on the stained-glass window, and a knock came at the door… (End of Chapter)