Holding two thick quilts, Fan Changyu had just stepped out of the bridal chamber when she felt something was off. She lifted her head and glanced toward the outer wall of the courtyard—only to see two large black shadows immediately shrink back down beneath it.

Fan Changyu: “…”

Even if they were reduced to ashes, she would still recognize them.

Those two were none other than Fan Da and his wife.

So, they must have heard about her taking a husband into the family, and were worried she had casually found some out-of-town man to put on a show and deceive them. Were they really climbing her courtyard wall in the middle of the night just to eavesdrop?

At that very moment, outside the Fan family’s courtyard wall, Fan Da and his broad-shouldered, bear-backed wife, Madam Liu, were each clinging to a wooden ladder, their heads just below the wall as they whispered to each other.

“You see? I told you that girl just randomly found someone to pretend to marry into her family to fool us! They’re sleeping in separate rooms on their wedding night! What are you panicking for!” Madam Liu scolded her husband harshly.

Fan Da, thinking that this meant there might still be hope of reclaiming that property, couldn’t hide his excitement. “Let’s keep watching! Let’s keep watching!” he said.

The two furtively poked half their heads over the wall again—only to see Fan Changyu, after carrying the thick quilts into the neighboring room, come back out again. She went to the kitchen, fetched a basin of water, and returned to the bridal chamber, as though she had merely gone to the next room to put the quilts away.

The Fan couple exchanged uncertain looks.

Could it be that they had guessed wrong?

· ─ ·✶· ─ ·

When Fan Changyu entered the bridal chamber again with a basin of hot water, without knocking, she met the icy-shard-like gaze of the man sitting shirtless at the table. With her eyes, she gestured toward the courtyard outside and, half-embarrassed, half-helpless, said, “My uncle and aunt must think I just found someone random to marry into the family to fool them—they’re outside eavesdropping.”

Xie Zheng withdrew his gaze and lowered himself back over the round table.

He had just applied medicine; the bone-gnawing pain radiated from the torn flesh through every nerve, drenching his forehead, shoulders, and waist with cold sweat. At this moment, nearly all his strength was spent enduring the pain—he had no energy to care whether Fan Changyu stayed or left.

His shoulders were tense, damp strands of hair clinging messily to his forehead. Sweat beaded on his eyelashes. His teeth were clenched tight, like a wild wolf beaten again and again, yet never tamed.

It was Fan Changyu’s first time seeing his wounds in full. Without the cover of gauze, the gashes on his body—some already scabbed over, others still torn and raw—were plainly visible. Beyond those, she could faintly see traces of many old scars.

She couldn’t help thinking of her father. He, too, had borne many such old wounds. It seemed that being an armed escort truly was a trade where one gambled with life itself.

Setting down the basin, she walked closer and frowned. “Can I help you with anything?” she asked.

The man half-slumped over the table didn’t lift his head. His pale fingertips picked up a bottle of medicine and passed it backward to her. “Sprinkle the remaining powder over the wounds on my back,” he said.

He had always been cautious—he had already replaced the medicine the Gyrfalcon had brought him into the bottle purchased from that old man.

Fan Changyu took the bottle and did as he instructed. Yet almost instantly, the muscles of his back tensed even tighter, as hard as stone. Perhaps the pain was too unbearable—he turned his head and bit down directly on the clothes piled on the table.

She frowned. Last time he’d applied medicine, he hadn’t reacted so strongly. Thinking that perhaps the day’s wedding had exhausted him, she felt a little guilty.

Glancing at the blood- and sweat-stained gauze on the floor, she went to the cabinet and took out a piece of plain silk.

It was leftover fabric from the mourning clothes the family had made when her parents passed away. She cut it into long strips with scissors, intending to use it for bandaging later.

After a while, Xie Zheng’s taut muscles finally loosened a little. He released the clothes he had been biting and slowly raised his eyes toward Fan Changyu.

“Feeling better?” Fan Changyu quickly set down the scissors when she saw this.

Xie Zheng hated others seeing him while treating his wounds. In those moments, he looked like a frail stray dog whose life anyone could take.

But no matter how wretched he appeared, this woman had already seen it all.

The habit of long years was hard to shake. He instinctively resisted the feeling and only said a curt, cool “Thanks.”

Fan Changyu glanced once more at his wounds but, magnanimous as she was, chose not to argue with him.

Perhaps it was because of the pain that he was in such a foul mood.

Xie Zheng picked up the clothes on the table and began to put them on. The sensation of blood and sweat sticking to his back was far from pleasant, but his good upbringing would never allow him to sit half-naked before a woman, no matter how dire the situation.

Seeing this, Fan Changyu quickly stopped him. “You’re covered in sweat and blood—wipe yourself first. I’ll find you something of my father’s to wear later.”

Fortunately, she had brought in that basin of water earlier, originally intending for him to wash with. Now it came in handy.

The front of his body he could manage himself, but his back still needed her help. Her movements were much more careful than his own rough wiping—she wrung out the cloth, cautiously avoided the wounds, and gently cleaned away the blood and the brownish medicine stains left from before.

Every so often, her fingers would accidentally brush his back. They weren’t exactly soft, but they were nothing like his own calloused hands. A faint, tingling current seemed to spread from every place her fingertips passed.

The unfamiliar, feather-light itch made Xie Zheng instinctively furrow his brows.

Fan Changyu stopped at once. “Did I touch your wound?”

He pressed his lips together, his expression growing even colder. “No.”

By the time she finished wiping his back, the water in the basin had already turned murky with blood and residue. Fan Changyu took the cloth strips she had cut earlier and began to wrap his back. Inevitably, her fingers brushed against more of his skin. Perhaps because he had just applied medicine and was still sweating, his body felt hotter than ever before.

She stood while he sat; whenever she leaned down to loop the bandage around him, her long hair fell forward, faintly sweeping across his shoulder and neck.

Warm.

Itchy.

Numbing.

Xie Zheng’s brows nearly twisted into a “川,” and he subtly shifted to the side to avoid her.

“All done.” Fan Changyu, unaware of his discomfort, straightened after tying the knot. After working for so long, a fine layer of sweat had appeared on her own forehead.

She rummaged through the chest and found an old garment her father used to wear for him, then carried the basin outside to empty it.

Under the eaves, the red lantern swayed gently in the cold wind. Outside the wall, the two bear-like silhouettes once again shrank down when they saw her coming out, thinking themselves perfectly hidden.

Fan Changyu played along, pretending not to notice. “What stray cat is it this time, sneaking into my house to steal meat again!” she scolded aloud.

Carrying the basin, she walked over to the water vat, scooped in two ladles of cold water to mix, then hurled it forcefully over the wall. “If I catch you again next time, just see how I’ll deal with you, you beast!”

Outside the wall, Fan Da and his wife were instantly drenched from head to toe, shivering violently in the freezing air. Afraid of being discovered, they didn’t dare make a sound.

Only when the footsteps in the courtyard faded did Fan Da finally spit out a few mouthfuls of the water he’d swallowed by accident, grimacing. “What the hell kind of water did that wretched girl throw? What’s that smell?”

Madam Liu wiped her soaked face with her sleeve and sniffed. “Smells like blood… and sweat.”

The couple froze, then both spat even harder. “To hell with it—that’s their bath water!”

Their soaked jackets were chilled through by the wind, cold biting straight to the bone. Their teeth chattered as they stumbled away.

That night, they heard nothing through the wall, but after returning home, the Fan couple both caught a severe chill and were bedridden for several days.

Worried that something else might happen, Fan Changyu thought it over several times and finally decided to lay a floor bedding in the bridal chamber. Xie Zheng made no comment.

Fan Changyu fell asleep quickly; by the time Xie Zheng was still resting with eyes closed, her breathing had already turned soft and even.

According to local custom, the wedding candles were to burn all night long on the wedding night. To keep up appearances for anyone watching, Fan Changyu had left them lit.

As the steady flame burned on, the wick suddenly popped with a soft crack. At that sound, Xie Zheng slightly turned his head to glance toward the floor bedding.

Warm light spilled across three feet of ground. The woman lay curled up beneath several thick quilts, her dark hair fanned over the pillow, her face glowing with a soft, jade-like warmth under the dim candlelight.

Xie Zheng withdrew his gaze and slowly closed his eyes.

When she was awake, she carried a coarse, streetwise air about her—no matter how good her looks were, one could easily overlook them.

But when she slept, she was actually… rather pleasant to look at.

Realizing he was thinking about whether she was good-looking or not, Xie Zheng suddenly opened his eyes, frowning hard.

What did it matter to him whether she was beautiful or ugly?

Once his wounds healed, he could leave this place. Whether he would ever cross paths with this woman again was uncertain at best.

He cut off the thought, turned to face the inner side of the bed, and closed his eyes once more.

· ─ ·✶· ─ ·

Fan Changyu had her own daily routine—she woke up as soon as it was time.

When she sat up and found herself lying on the floor, with no sign of Changning beside her and a man sleeping on the nearby bed, she was dazed for quite a while.

Then she remembered she had married yesterday—and finally let out a breath of relief.

Outside, dawn was just beginning to break. Inside the room, the wedding candles still had a short stub left burning, wax tears pooling thickly beneath the stand.

Fan Changyu rose quietly. Having slept in her clothes, she was spared the trouble and embarrassment of dressing. After folding up the bedding from the floor, she stepped outside.

The wind and snow from the night before hadn’t stopped. Over the course of one night, the courtyard had been covered with a thick layer of snow; even the branches on and beyond the wall were white.

Shivering, Fan Changyu rubbed her hands together for warmth, then went to the eaves to fetch some firewood. She lit the hearth, set a pot of water to warm for washing, and took up a broom to sweep the snow in the yard into piles.

Hearing her younger sister Changning’s cries from the next room, she hurried off to bring her back.

Changning was usually very obedient, but ever since their parents’ passing, if she woke and didn’t see Fan Changyu nearby, she would cry for a while.

Fan Changyu soothed her, settled her on a stool, and began to comb her hair.

Perhaps because her health had always been frail, Changning’s hair wasn’t as dark and thick as her own—it was fine, soft, and a little yellowish. With so many stray wisps, even tying two small tufts was quite a task.

Fan Changyu’s hands were not especially deft, so her sister’s twin tufts ended up looking different every day—and never quite right.

After finishing, Fan Changyu told her sister to wash her face. Little Changning touched her left tuft, then her right, feeling something amiss. She carried her washcloth to the basin, looked at her reflection, and realized that today’s tufts were crooked beyond belief.

She tugged one and said, “Elder Sister, my hair’s lopsided.”

Fan Changyu coughed lightly. “I have to go to the county yamen after breakfast. I don’t have time to redo it. Just make do for today, alright?”

Little Changning was easy to placate and immediately dropped the matter.

When Fan Changyu returned to the room with the fresh water, she found that the man inside had already been awake for some time. He was fully dressed, sitting up against the headboard.

Their earlier conversation must have reached his ears; Fan Changyu felt a little embarrassed.

She placed the basin on the round stool by the bed and handed him a clean cotton cloth, then spoke of the promise she’d made when asking him to marry into the family. “I’ll head to the county yamen shortly to transfer the house deed. I’ll also help you get your household registration redone and bring back a physician to check your injuries.”

At that, Xie Zheng said, “There’s no need for a physician. My wounds will heal on their own with rest.”

He had already applied medicine to his injuries; all he needed now was time and stillness to let the flesh mend.

Fan Changyu scratched her head. “Then is there anything else you need? I can buy it for you.”

He shook his head again.

That made Fan Changyu feel rather awkward.

This was not quite what she had promised—and it almost made it seem like, in this pretend marriage, she was the one taking advantage.

She thought for a moment that when she went to the county later, after finishing her errands at the yamen, she might buy some tonics on the way back—something to help him nourish his body and recover properly.

After a quick breakfast, Fan Changyu headed out. Since there was now more than just her younger sister at home, she no longer left Changning with Aunt Zhao next door. Instead, before leaving, she reminded her sister that if anything happened, she could go to Aunt Zhao for help.

Unexpectedly, no sooner had she stepped out than one of the street ruffians who’d been keeping watch near the alley slipped away toward the gambling den to deliver the news.

When the pounding on the door began—bang, bang, bang—Xie Zheng had only just picked up a book he’d found in the corner and flipped through a couple of pages without much interest. Beneath his languid brows, there was a trace of utter boredom and impatience—his mood, plainly, was not good.