Chapter 111: Who has received your gift, Cheng Zhao

Zhou Yuanshen went to wash up, changed into his underclothes, and returned to the bedroom.

Cheng Zhao finished a bowl of ginger and brown sugar tea and was rinsing her mouth. She glanced at him.

He wore a blank expression as he picked up a book to read in bed.

Cheng Zhao brought out her sewing basket again. She lit another horn lantern to make the area brighter.

It had been a while since she’d done any needlework.

But she couldn’t help thinking of something from before the New Year.

It had also been when she was sewing...

She cast a look toward Zhou Yuanshen.

At that same moment, he lifted his eyes to meet hers.

The married couple’s gazes locked. Cheng Zhao looked away as if nothing had happened.

Zhou Yuanshen didn’t move, but he spoke: “Cheng Zhao.”

Cheng Zhao’s nerves tightened.

Annoying—he wasn’t her father, yet when he called her like that, her skin prickled. Even her father had never carried such authority.

She raised her eyes and glared right back at him.

“You promised to make me a pouch, but you never did,” he said. “You broke your word.”

“Did I?”

“Think carefully,” he said. “If you won’t admit it, fine.”

Cheng Zhao: “...”

She remembered.

That time, she had snatched back an embroidered handkerchief she’d made for her niece. To get it returned, she’d promised to sew him a pouch.

But then one thing after another happened, and they’d both been too busy to even catch their breath.

Cheng Zhao refused to let him see her guilt, though.

She turned the blame around: “You didn’t remind me. Since it’s been so long, the deal is off. You forgot first.”

Zhou Yuanshen put down his book.

Seeing that, Cheng Zhao immediately swung her legs off the bed, slipped on her shoes, and turned to bolt.

But he was faster. Before she could reach the door, he caught her around the waist.

He pressed her against the door, using considerable force, and her body thudded softly against the wood.

Footsteps from a maid in the outer room quickly followed.

Before Cheng Zhao could tell the maid on night duty to withdraw, Zhou Yuanshen kissed her.

Their tongues tangled, and he kissed her until she almost couldn’t breathe, then gently nibbled her lips.

Cheng Zhao gasped for air: “I still have my period.”

“Hm.” Zhou Yuanshen hummed in acknowledgment and kept kissing her.

She tried to pull away.

She pushed at him: “Let’s go to the bed...”

Zhou Yuanshen finally drew back, his gaze dropping: “Are you willing?”

Cheng Zhao understood. Last time, he’d done the same, guiding her hand...

“I’m not willing!” Cheng Zhao’s eyes went wide. “Don’t even think about it!”

“How will you make it up to me, then?” he asked. “My pouch...”

“You haven’t made me anything either,” Cheng Zhao retorted. “Why should I make you a pouch?”

Zhou Yuanshen considered this seriously and nodded. “You’re right. What do you want?”

“A kite,” she said. “While the weather isn’t too hot or cold, I want to take my niece out to fly one.”

As soon as she said it, she recalled when she’d first moved in—she’d seen him and Mu Jiang flying a kite in the courtyard. She’d remarked then that the weather wasn’t right for it, that they were being odd.

A flicker of regret crossed Cheng Zhao’s face. She frowned slightly. “Did you ever make a kite for anyone else?”

“No. I don’t know how yet,” he said.

Cheng Zhao: “...”

“And you? How many people have you given pouches to?” he asked.

“Oh, far too many to count,” she said.

He leaned in, gently kissing her snowy neck, even lightly scraping her skin with his teeth. “Who, for example?”

Cheng Zhao couldn’t withstand such teasing; her body trembled. “I can’t remember all of them at once. My needlework is pretty good, you know. Last time I even made one for the Empress.”

“Think harder...”

Without her noticing, his pulling had loosened her collar. He lifted her up.

Back on the bed, he didn’t set her down. Instead, he leaned against the headboard and held her in his arms, an arm around her waist.

Cheng Zhao felt herself breathing hard.

A warmth spread up her spine, almost fogging her mind.

He kissed her again.

“Cheng Zhao,” he murmured. This time there was no authority in his voice—it was low, coaxing, like sweet, sticky syrup.

Cheng Zhao mustered a fierce impulse to break free, but he anticipated it and held her tighter.

Her collar had slipped nearly to her navel, leaving her exposed before him. She tried to cover herself, but she couldn’t escape, so she bit him in a moment of recklessness. “Zhou Yuanshen!”

He drew in a breath. “I have to go to the camp tomorrow...”

Cheng Zhao immediately loosened her bite.

If he had a teeth mark on his lip, it would embarrass him, and she’d rather not be alive either.

“What are you even trying to do? You know tonight isn’t possible,” Cheng Zhao said, her breath scalding.

Tormenting each other like this was uncomfortable for him—and unbearable for her too.

When two people caught fire like this, they felt ravenous.

He couldn’t have the meal, yet he kept whetting his appetite till the urge burned like wildfire.

“I just want to know who you gave those pouches to,” he said.

“You’re being impossible!” She cupped his face.

It was like asking her how many pastries she’d eaten growing up.

How could she possibly remember?

She’d been forced to take up embroidery at eight, only to discover she didn’t hate it and could sit patiently with the work.

Pouches and handkerchiefs were small items she made on a whim.

And she worked fast—she wasn’t one of those delicate young ladies who spent half a month on a single pouch. When she focused, she could finish one in two days.

She truly couldn’t recall, so instead she pressed her lips to his and kissed him first.

Zhou Yuanshen peeled off her upper garment and took her hand.

The night grew deep.

Cheng Zhao was too exhausted to argue. She fell asleep pressed against him—it was so late, she was nearly unconscious with drowsiness.

Thinking he wouldn’t be back for half a month, she slept even more soundly.

The next day, when she woke, Zhou Yuanshen was already gone.

“His Lordship went to the Jingji Camp today. He said he won’t return tonight,” Nanny Li reported.

“Wasn’t he supposed to be at camp for half a month?” Cheng Zhao asked.

“I asked him. He said once things are settled, he can still come home. On horseback, it’s only an hour and a half each way,” Nanny Li said.

Cheng Zhao: “...”

Three hours for a round trip every day, and he actually planned to come home every single night?

Was he insane?

With that much energy, why didn’t he go plow the fields?

“Nanny, next time you see him, tell him not to come back. Running himself ragged—who’s going to run the Duke’s mansion?” Cheng Zhao said.

Nanny Li gave a wry smile. “How could I say that?”

“Then I’ll tell Mother and ask her to speak to him,” Cheng Zhao said.

She was at a loss.

Nanny Li laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s hard for him to get away anyway. Duties are exhausting; things don’t always go as planned.”

Cheng Zhao felt relieved. “You’re right. He’s just daydreaming. He probably can’t actually make it home. His plan was to come back once every half month.”

The two of them chatted for a long while before Cheng Zhao went for breakfast.

Qiubai helped Cheng Zhao dress and whispered, “Young Madam, there’s something you might find interesting.”

It was a little secret.

“The boy Nanfeng told me—maybe His Lordship sent him to say it,” Qiubai said.

“What is it?”