After so deliberation, the elderly couple finally realized their grave oversight and hastily selected an introductory guidebook, sending it over to Zong Zhao that very night.
When Zong Zhao glanced at the contents of the booklet, his first reaction was to frown, his second was to find it awkward, and his third was… to toss it aside.
After his bath, however, he spotted the booklet at his feet and felt the dismissal had been too hasty. With Xu Wan still outside, he picked it up and tucked it into his small cabinet, planning to dispose of it properly another day.
On the large bed lay two quilts, one for each of them—Xu Wan on the inner side, Zong Zhao on the outer.
Seeing him erge from the bathing chamber, Xu Wan called out, "Zong Zhao, do you have anything else to attend to?"
"No," Zong Zhao replied.
Xu Wan added, "If not, could you turn off the light before coming over?"
Zong Zhao paused briefly before answering, "...Alright."
Both of them were light sleepers and disliked keeping even a small nightlight on, so the mont the lamp was extinguished, the room plunged into complete darkness.
Xu Wan teased, "Before, you were closer to the lamp on the daybed. Can you even see well enough now to avoid tripping? Don’t worry, I’ve left my shoes by the bed."
"I won’t. I rember the way," he said.
Zong Zhao made his way to the bed, sat down, and slipped under his quilt.
Xu Wan imdiately felt her intricately carved bed grow noticeably more cramped. The presence of another person was entirely different—Zong Zhao’s aura was overwhelming. She could even catch the scent of the sa soap on him, mingled with a faint, distinctly masculine warmth.
If she could sense the difference, Zong Zhao was even more acutely aware, especially after accidentally glimpsing that risqué little booklet earlier. The delicate fragrance drifting from his wife sent heat surging through his body, his breath growing uneven.
Unaware of his turmoil, Xu Wan chattered away, "This is much more convenient. We don’t have to raise our voices to talk—even my soft murmurs reach you clearly. It’s better than calling out across the room at night and struggling to fall asleep afterward."
Turning onto his side, he asked her, "Do you enjoy chatting at night?"
Xu Wan mirrored his movent, facing him as she replied, "Yes, it feels like sharing secrets—so relaxing. I just never had anyone to talk to before. I couldn’t keep asking Cui Zhi to crouch by my bedside for conversation. It’d be too much to ask."
Warmth spread through Zong Zhao’s chest, matching the heat of his body. "Then I’ll keep you company from now on. You can talk as long as you’d like."
Xu Wan’s eyes sparkled with delight. "Really? Though most of it’s just idle chatter. I hope you won’t mind wasting ti with ."
"I don’t. It’s nice—feels like everyday life," Zong Zhao said.
Xu Wan laughed. "You’re actually quite good with words. It’s uplifting to listen to you. You must be well-liked among your comrades in the army, aren’t you?"
Zong Zhao gave a quiet hum. "I have a few friends. They’ve been inviting out since I returned to the capital, but I haven’t had the chance yet."
Xu Wan quickly interjected, "You should go! If you keep turning them down, they’ll stop asking, and the friendship will fade."
"Would you co with ?" The question slipped out before he could stop himself, and he hastily added, "They sotis bring their families along."
"Of course!" Xu Wan answered without hesitation. "Just let know in advance. If I have teaching commitnts, I’ll reschedule with the tutors."
"Good. I’ll tell you next ti." In the darkness, Zong Zhao’s eyes crinkled, his lips curving upward unbidden.
Xu Wan couldn’t see his expression but sensed the lightness in the air. Softly, she asked, "Are you smiling right now?"
Zong Zhao fell silent.
Because he realized his body was growing even hotter. The ice blocks placed around the room for sumr cooling hadn’t lted any faster—the problem was entirely his own.
When he didn’t respond, Xu Wan pressed, "Why aren’t you saying anything? Did you fall asleep?" Surely not so abruptly?
"No…" His voice ca out low and slightly hoarse.
Xu Wan imdiately detected the change. She reached out from under the quilt, her hand brushing his face. "Are you running a fever? You’re burning up!"
Zong Zhao was burning up—especially after her touch grazed his cheek, sending heat roaring through every inch of him.
Xu Wan scrambled upright, her hands flitting over his face and then his hands, all radiating scorching warmth.
"You really might have a fever," she murmured, leaning in to press her forehead against his. "Your forehead isn’t as hot as the rest, though. How odd. I’ll call the House Physician to examine you."
By now, Zong Zhao had stiffened completely under her probing touches. When she resorted to the forehead press—a gesture so reminiscent of checking a child’s temperature—his heart threatened to hamr straight out of his chest.
Thud-thud-thud—
Like the relentless beat of war drums.
He caught Xu Wan’s wrist, stopping her from climbing off the bed. "Don’t call the House Physician. I’m not ill. I’m just… nervous." The admission made his face blaze even hotter. At least the darkness hid it.
"Nervous?" Xu Wan’s arm remained in his grip, his firm hold and the unyielding chest beneath her serving as stark reminders: this was a grown man in his pri.
No amount of shyness could mask the raw, restless energy thrumming through his youthful body.
Xu Wan hastily retreated to the far side of the bed, sitting upright as she stamred, "You’re… that nervous?"
She understood the biological differences between n and won—how desire burned fiercer and faster in males. What she’d considered a mildly awkward adjustnt to sharing a bed was, for Zong Zhao, an excruciating test of restraint.
Consummation…
The word flashed through her mind, and suddenly, Xu Wan was nervous too. Had her actions unknowingly sent that kind of signal? Was that why Zong Zhao had—
Zong Zhao rolled off the bed, announcing, "I’ll go wash my face."
"Oh. Right, yes." Xu Wan nodded several tis, as if convincing herself.
Only after he left did she exhale, her mind blank, unsure what to do next.
At the washbasin, Zong Zhao hesitated, splashing cold water repeatedly to cool himself down. Perhaps they should return to separate beds—spare her the discomfort. But she had been the one to suggest sharing again, and the thought of leaving twisted his heart.
By the ti he returned, Xu Wan still hadn’t sorted her thoughts. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Zong Zhao said quietly, "I apologize for disturbing your rest. I’ll… work on controlling myself better."
Without thinking, Xu Wan blurted, "Do you… want to consummate?"
Silence engulfed the pitch-black room.
Her blunt question left Zong Zhao equally stunned.
There they sat—one at the bedside, the other deep within—unable to see each other yet discussing the least innocent of topics.
Zong Zhao grappled for a response. Of course he wanted to. His entire body ached with the need. But that wasn’t the point.
He countered softly, "Do you?"
Xu Wan: "…"
He really had a way with questions—asking sothing like that was so typically blunt and clueless. As a woman, even if she had thoughts on the matter, she could never voice them outright.
Truthfully, she didn’t mind. Since she’d made up her mind to build a life with Zong Zhao, she was prepared for this. Her reply was asured: "If you want to, then it’s fine. We are husband and wife, after all."
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