Chapter 519: Warmth

When Cheng Feng came out of the two elders' room, the night was already deep.

The lanterns under the veranda were swayed gently by the wind, the light and shadows growing long and short on the blue brick floor.

"This can be considered a foundation I built myself!"

He walked along the veranda toward his own courtyard, his footsteps very light, but his heart heavier than the night itself.

He knew he would not be sleeping too early tonight.

Zhao Wei's courtyard was on the east side of Cheng Mansion, not large, but kept extremely clean.

In the courtyard grew two wintersweet trees she tended to herself; they were in full bloom at this moment, their fragrance clear and cold, mixing with a sliver of warm light leaking from the window crack, making Cheng Feng stand at the doorway for a moment.

He pushed the door open and entered.

The room was scented with a faint, warm fragrance, which Zhao Wei blended herself using dried petals and herbs; it was not strong, but it smelled extremely pleasant.

She was sitting in front of the vanity, turning sideways to take down her hair bun. The bronze mirror reflected half her face, her brows and eyes gentle, the tips of her ears flushed with a shallow red.

Hearing the door sound, the movement of her hands paused for a moment; she did not turn her head, only meeting Cheng Feng's gaze in the mirror before quickly lowering her eyes.

"You're back," she said softly, as if she had been waiting for him for a long time, or as if she were asking a question she already knew the answer to.

Cheng Feng gave a hum and walked behind her. She suddenly stood up and turned to pour tea for Cheng Feng.

"It's only been a short while, yet Senior Sister has become so distant!"

Zhao Wei's height only reached Cheng Feng's chin; as she brushed past him, her sleeves stirred up a very faint fragrance.

Cheng Feng reached out and grabbed her wrist, and she stopped, not struggling, though the hand holding the teacup trembled slightly.

"You've been busy all day, sit down." Cheng Feng pulled her to sit by the couch and took a seat beside her.

He took the teacup from her hand and placed it on the small side table without drinking.

The moonlight outside the window filtered in through the half-covered lattice, falling on her profile and neck, illuminating that patch of skin with a dazzling whiteness.

She was dressed plainly today in a duck-egg green small jacket, the cuffs rolled with a circle of fine dark patterns, the waist cinched just right, making her look gentle and soft.

Cheng Feng looked at her and suddenly smiled: "What are you nervous about?"

Zhao Wei bit her lower lip and spat at him in a low voice: "Who's nervous."

But her voice was so soft and coquettish it had no persuasive power at all. She kept her head down, her fingers unconsciously twisting her cuffs; from Cheng Feng's angle, he could see the beautiful curve of her fair nape, a few stray hairs hanging behind her ears, trembling gently with her breathing.

Cheng Feng did not tease her further, only reaching out to wrap his arms around her shoulders and slowly pressing her into his embrace.

Zhao Wei leaned in, her cheek pressed against his chest, motionless.

The room was so quiet for a moment that they could hear each other's breathing.

Cheng Feng lowered his head and smelled the faint osmanthus scent in her hair—it was the hair oil she habitually used, mixed with the cold fragrance of the wintersweet; it was comforting to smell.

"It has been hard on you while I was away from home these past six months," Cheng Feng said in a low voice.

Zhao Wei shook her head gently in his arms: "It wasn't hard. It is you who have been out in the wind and rain; having you back is better than anything."

Cheng Feng did not speak again. Some things did not need to be said too much; the person being back was more real than a thousand words.

He slowly tightened his arms, pulling her even closer. Zhao Wei let out a very light nasal sound, like a cat being stroked, her body softening even more.

The separation of these six months was like a string pulled too tight, finally relaxing at this moment.

Cheng Feng lowered his head to seek her lips; Zhao Wei tilted her face up slightly, her eyes half-closed, her eyelashes trembling violently.

He first touched her forehead lightly, then the tip of her nose, and finally landed on her lips.

Her lips were warm and soft, carrying a hint of the sweetness of osmanthus tea.

He kissed very slowly, as if afraid of startling her, and as if tasting something he had lost and regained.

Zhao Wei was a bit reserved at first, only passively enduring it, her two hands not knowing where to put themselves, until finally, she lightly clutched the lapels of his chest.

Later, her body gradually softened, her whole person pressing into his embrace, her breathing also becoming rapid.

Cheng Feng supported the back of her head with one hand and slowly slid the other down her back.

Through the thin clothing, he could feel her body trembling slightly, like a flower petal shivering in the wind.

He suddenly remembered the martial arts tournament in the capital, remembered the days of licking blood from the edge of a blade over the past six months; every time he closed his eyes briefly, he dreamed of scenes like this: a quiet room, a warm yellow lamp, a woman waiting for him to come home.

If he didn't have the Panmian, he might just be an Ordinary passerby,

and if he died, he died.

At this moment, all of this was before his eyes, far more real than in his dreams.

He pulled away from her lips, his forehead against hers, and whispered: "Senior Sister."

"Hm?" Her eyes were wet, as if containing a pool of spring water.

"Come."

Cheng Feng let out a laugh, said no more, and with a surge of strength in his arms, scooped her up horizontally.

Zhao Wei gave a startled cry, hurriedly wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder, not daring to look up.

Cheng Feng carried her around the screen to the bed in the inner chamber and laid her down gently. Zhao Wei lay half-reclined on the silk quilt, her dark hair spread across the bed, a few strands sticking to her cheeks, making her face look even more petite.

She turned her face away, not daring to look at him, revealing only her fair neck line and a flush of thin red on the tips of her ears.

Cheng Feng leaned over, one hand propped beside her, the other gently brushing the hair from her face. His movements were extremely light and slow, as if treating something precious and fragile.

"I haven't seen you for half a year; you're even more beautiful than before," he said.

Zhao Wei couldn't help but look back, only to bump into his burning gaze, and hurriedly looked away again, her voice soft and light: "You... don't keep looking at me."

"If I don't look at you, who do I look at?" Cheng Feng said, lowering his head to nuzzle her ear, his breath spraying against her earlobe, making her shrink her neck from the tickle and let out a light laugh. That laugh had not yet faded before it was blocked by his lips.

The night wind rose outside the window, blowing the two wintersweet trees in the courtyard to sway gently, petals falling under the veranda and covering it in a thin layer. Two overlapping shadows were cast on the window paper, tender and lingering.

Like sweet dew after a long drought, a single drop can moisten a thousand mountains.

Zhao Wei could barely manage to respond twice at first, but later there was nothing left but intermittent light moans and fragmented gasps.

Her hands climbed onto Cheng Feng's back at some point,

and as her fingertips traced over him, her heart felt both sour and full.

The warm fragrance inside the room grew thicker. The cold scent of winter plum blossoms drifted in through the window cracks, mingling with the warmth of the room, like ice and fire slowly melting into water.

The moonlight that night was excellent, leaking in from outside the half-closed window, slowly moving from the east wall to the west wall, stretching the light and shadows in the room until they were long and soft.

Cheng Feng had not been this relaxed for a long time. In the half year he had been away, there was hardly a day he hadn't kept his nerves taut; from the Martial Dao assembly to the Immortal Sect, from the capital to Heimu Prefecture, every step he took was on the tip of a blade.

Only at this moment, with the person in his arms as warm and soft as cotton, their breathing as light and shallow as a stream, did he feel that he was not just an iron shell that only knew how to fight.

In the second half of the night, Zhao Wei lay exhausted against his chest, lacking even the strength to lift her hand, only occasionally letting out a soft "mm" to respond to his low words.

Cheng Feng wrapped one arm around her smooth shoulder and used his other hand to pull up the fallen silk quilt to cover her. Her face was pressed against his chest, her breathing gradually becoming steady; she was clearly exhausted and had fallen asleep.

Cheng Feng did not sleep. He kept his eyes open, staring at the top of the bed canopy, listening to the wind outside the window grow tighter, as if another snow was about to fall.

He suddenly felt very calm inside, as calm as a lake surface covered by snow, with no ripples left at all.

The running about, fighting, and scheming of the past half year, amidst the deep breathing of the person in his arms, turned bit by bit into a weariness seeping from his very bones.

He kissed Zhao Wei lightly on the forehead and whispered, "Once I have stood firm out there, I will come back to pick you up."

Zhao Wei did not know if she had heard him; she only burrowed further into his arms, like a cat searching for a warm spot.

Cheng Feng closed his eyes.

The wind outside the window stopped. The second half of the night in Heimu Prefecture was silent, with only the occasional low cry of water birds from the distant pier, short and remote, like an echo in a dream.