2002

The two of them were in no hurry, strolling slowly along the narrow, winding country path.

Before they even reached the courtyard gate, a sharp scent of something burning wafted through the air.

Jiang Xinyue snapped out of the fear she had just felt, using the opportunity to pull her hand away from Pei San’s grasp. She lifted her skirt and rushed inside.

At the kitchen door, she immediately spotted a pot covered with a layer of blackened soot. Hurriedly, she stepped in, scooped some water with a gourd ladle, and poured it in. A sizzling sound followed, and a cloud of white steam surged toward her face, carrying with it the unpleasant smell of burnt food.

Caught off guard, Jiang Xinyue was choked and spluttered, unable to dodge in time. She was pulled aside by Pei Yennian from behind.

“Why are you standing there like an idiot?” he asked.

“I was afraid it would catch fire,” she replied quietly.

Jiang Xinyue glanced at the messy countertop and suddenly remembered she hadn’t yet transferred the dishes. She whispered, “I had everything going well at first, but after hearing about your dispute with Liu Erniu, I accidentally burnt the food.”

“Can you burn four dishes all at once?”

Her voice dropped even lower. “That’s what you said yourself.”

Pei Yennian was both exasperated and amused. He raised his hand to ruffle her hair, only to see her quickly cover her head, clearly frightened.

Before he could probe further, his gaze was drawn to the burn on her hand. “What happened to your hand?”

Jiang Xinyue, seeing he wasn’t angry, moved her fingers and touched the blistered burn, wincing in belated pain.

As she was about to move, her hand was firmly grasped by his large palm. Pei San lowered his eyes to inspect the wound, frowning. “How did you burn it like this?”

Pei Yennian looked toward the sizzling iron pot, then at the four dishes in the farthest corner of the stove, now unrecognizable. He paused without saying a word.

The room was still unlit, only the glowing embers stubbornly burning, emitting soft popping sounds.

His face was shadowed in the dim light; only his tightly pressed lips were visible, expression unreadable.

Jiang Xinyue, uncertain if it was from doing too much servile work lately, instinctively replied, “I was preparing a surprise for you. After all, it’s your birthday, and I wanted to make you happy.”

She glanced again at the burnt dishes and the chaotic kitchen, as if realizing this might not be something to be happy about.

After a brief pause in her smile, she forced herself to add, “It’s the thought that counts.”

Pei San’s gaze lingered on her smiling eyes for a long moment before lowering his voice. “A birthday isn’t such a big deal.”

But after saying that, he was the first to laugh softly, patting her head. “You really are silly.”

This was the first time in many years someone had celebrated his birthday with him.

Pei San was a serious man, seldom smiling at his young age, and his stern demeanor was intimidating. But when he smiled like this, his refined features stood out—clear, sharp contours with a distinct elegance unlike the charming style of noble young masters.

Jiang Xinyue blinked, unable to find the right words to describe it, so she didn’t even register that he’d just called her silly.

She saw Pei San casually pull out a stool, press her down onto it, then turn and leave the room.

Curious about what he was doing, her eyes scanned the wine jug on the long table, worried about what excuse she might use to persuade Pei San to drink later.

After all, she had already ruined the side dishes—she couldn’t very well urge him to drink with just plain rice.

The thought made her even more anxious, feeling as if the stool was covered with nails, making it impossible to sit still.

Pei San was very attentive; even the slightest unusual behavior caught his notice. Unsure if she would get another chance to return from this, she lost herself in anxious thoughts.

Just then, the man returned carrying a candle lantern and a bamboo box.

“Let me treat your wound,” Pei Yennian said as he placed the lantern on the table and sat opposite her. He signaled for her to raise her hand. “I’ll apply some medicine to prevent scarring.”

“I can do it myself,” she insisted.

He didn’t argue, leaning over to grasp her wrist and gently take her hand.

His young wife’s skin was delicate; even the slightest touch left marks. Now, a crescent-shaped red burn marred the pale skin on the back of her hand, stark and jarring like a bold stroke of vermilion on a landscape painting.

He stared at the mark for a long moment before opening the bamboo box, taking a small amount of ointment on his fingertip and gently pressing it onto the wound, wincing slightly.

“Don’t handle pots and pans so much in the future. I don’t need you doing those things. If you’re bored, go for a walk or pick some flowers. Or tomorrow, I can make you a fishing rod so you can go fishing.”

Jiang Xinyue, lost in thought, found an excuse to deflect. “I see other wives cooking and waiting for their husbands to come home with a meal ready. I’m not like you, who comes back to a cold stove and still has to take care of me.”

“That’s because they’re others,” Pei Yennian replied simply. After applying the ointment, he wrapped her hand carefully with a cloth before standing.

Her head remained bowed in silence, strands of hair soft and fuzzy.

Unable to resist, he lightly stroked her head twice. Perhaps sensing his tone was too harsh, he softened his voice. “Some people are good at cooking, some aren’t. Even if you married me, there’s no need to force yourself to do things you’re not good at. I have some means—I can support you. You absolutely don’t need to force yourself.”

Jiang Xinyue blinked, unable to respond properly.

He didn’t press the matter. To him, his young wife was still like a child, and it was only natural to take extra care of her.

That evening, they ate noodles. Pei San scooped a basin of clean water, washed his hands, then found a wooden basin. He poured in some flour, added water, and began kneading the dough.

Jiang Xinyue sat nearby, watching every movement clearly.

Through his coarse linen garment, she could see the faint outline of his muscular arms. His broad, solid chest rose and fell steadily with calm breaths, exuding a restrained yet vibrant strength.

If one had to find a merit in Pei San, it was that he silently cleaned up the mess she made when she impulsively ruined the chores women usually did in the countryside. He might wear a stern face, but he never complained as he tidied up after her.

Though he wasn’t much for smiling to begin with.

Jiang Xinyue let her thoughts wander, her gaze drifting to the wine jug not far away.

Before she could figure out how to properly present the wine to coax Pei San to drink, a steaming bowl of noodles was placed before her.

Unlike Pei San’s plain bowl, hers was topped with a fried egg. Even the yolk, which she usually disliked, had been quietly taken and placed in Pei San’s bowl.

After setting down her bowl, Pei San returned with the four burnt dishes. He tasted each one carefully.

Jiang Xinyue’s scalp tingled. Surely he could taste something?

But Pei San seemed unaffected, eating without changing expression, as if determined to finish it all.

As Pei San took another bite, she blinked her moist phoenix eyes and couldn’t help but ask, “Do you think this tastes good?”

Pei Yennian tilted his head and glanced at her. “Not bad.”

Jiang Xinyue refused to believe it and, driven by curiosity, picked up her chopsticks to try a bite.

The moment it touched her tongue, a strange taste shot straight to her forehead. Her face immediately twisted in disgust.

She heard a muffled chuckle from the man and instantly realized he had been teasing her before. Angry but unable to confront him, she grabbed her bowl and moved to sit at the farthest end of the table from Pei Yennian. She then poured herself a cup of wine from the jug.

Pei San was not fond of alcohol. The remainder in the jug was what she had bought during her last fever to help her cool down.

But for a young lady, this wine was far too strong.

No sooner had the liquid touched her tongue than she felt a numbness, and she began coughing, her pale face flushing red.

Pei San quickly came over, patting her thin back to ease her breath. “If you can’t drink it, why are you drinking?”

“To mask the bitterness. Otherwise, my mouth just tastes bitter,” Jiang Xinyue said with a soft look, glancing up at Pei Yennian.

He found it amusing and pinched her cheek. “You prepared a surprise, yet you’re the one who despises it?”

Jiang Xinyue shot him a glare but said nothing.

If one looked closely, they would notice her hand trembled unnaturally as she held the cup. Her heart raced, blood rushing upward, her red lips just touching the rim. She sipped delicately, her tender tongue lightly touching the surface of the wine like a kitten drinking water, then suddenly swallowed deeply.

Having spent months with Pei San, she understood him somewhat and knew what he liked most about her.

Sure enough, the next moment, the man grasped her jaw, forcing her to look up.

Startled by his sudden move, she coughed twice as the wine trickled down the corner of her mouth.

Instinctively, she stuck out her tongue to lick it away.

Jiang Xinyue was beautiful—exquisitely so. Black hair, snow-white skin, and well-proportioned features. Her small face held a pair of affectionate eyes, clear and bright with a carefree innocence. But she was no naive. When she casually glanced at someone, it was as if she hid a hook that instantly caught people’s hearts.

A drop of wine slid down her cheek to the side of her face, then traced along her slender neck, pooling gently in the hollow between her collarbones.

One might almost believe she was a fairy fallen from the deep mountains—innocent yet instinctively seductive.

Pei Yennian looked at the drop of wine, then inevitably glanced down at the area beneath her modest clothing—full and unmistakable. He had possessed that place for a long time and knew all its countless nuances.

Though autumn had arrived, he still felt a burning heat within his body. His voice was hoarse as he asked, “What are you doing?”