Chapter 1: Hush!

“Damn you, you scoundrel! Here, in such a bright place—do you want to shame me to death? Hurry up and go!”
“Don’t say that. Didn’t you always complain that it wasn’t satisfying? I’ve been studying some new moves from the illustrated manuals these past days. I swear you’ll want more after we’re done.”
Xiao Ming tossed and turned, unable to sleep, seeking solace alone in the waterside pavilion. Yet, unexpectedly, she encountered others. She recognized their voices—it was Zhao Sheng, the head guard from the front courtyard, and his wife.
After enduring countless hardships, she, a solitary girl, had finally found shelter in the Ling household. The servants called her “Miss Cousin”—an ambiguous title, lacking proper recognition, but at least she’d settled in.
Now, she couldn’t risk being caught wandering at night by the gossipy women of the household, lest they gift Old Madam Ling new rumors: “Restless and always seducing people.”
In a flash of thought, she blew out her lamp. Darkness swallowed the pavilion.
Bending low, tiptoeing, she silently slipped to the bank. With her slender frame, she curled beneath the dense shrubs, her presence completely concealed.
“You scoundrel, look at where we are!” Zhao Sheng’s wife laughed, spitting out her words.
“We’ve been busy preparing the eldest young master’s coming-of-age ceremony these days. It’s been so long since we’ve had fun. Let your man enjoy himself.”
Xiao Ming listened intently, initially unconcerned, but their words grew ever more lewd. Suddenly she realized what they were about to do, and her face burned with embarrassment.
She dared not linger a moment longer. Rising, she fled in another direction—only to crash straight into a man’s chest, hard as stone, eliciting a muffled groan from her.
“Help—” She hadn’t even reacted before he clamped his hand over her mouth and nose, dragging her deeper into the thicket. She heard his low “Shh.”
She looked up, her pupils shrinking in shock.
It was Ling Zhao, the firstborn son of the Ling family—her unattainable fiancé in name only.
What was he doing here in the dead of night?
“Have you found it yet?” Zhao Sheng’s wife sounded impatient. “If you can’t, all you know is fumbling!”
Zhao Sheng wasn’t offended; he chuckled. “You say you’re not in a hurry. Don’t rush me. It’s pitch dark, hard to find…”
Their sounds grew louder, the moans ever more obscene.
Ling Zhao’s grip tightened—she could barely breathe.
Having only just survived the old bachelor’s hands, she couldn’t stand to be smothered to death here. She tried to pry his hand loose, but as soon as she touched him, he shuddered, and in the next instant, he shoved her away.
Behind her was shrubbery; she lost her balance, teetering backward. Ling Zhao reacted swiftly, catching her once more, and she crashed again into his solid chest.
Luckily, the couple’s noises drowned out the commotion on their side.

It was a spring night; Xiao Ming wore only a thin sleeping robe beneath her cloak. The heat of his palm pressed against her lower back, separated by only a thin layer of fabric, almost touching her skin.
Hmm?
It seemed she’d gained some weight since he’d last held her.
Clearly, the past half year had been kind to her.
Her heartbeat thundered; they were so close—could he hear it too?
“Shh!” He shot her a cold glance, making a gesture for silence.
Xiao Ming eyed him suspiciously; she hadn’t said a word!
Never mind.
He was the living ancestor of the Ling family—who dared contradict him?
She nodded obediently, but as she lowered her head, her hairpin hooked onto a button of his lapel. The more she struggled, the tighter it became, the pearls dangling and clattering noisily.
“Hmm? Did you hear something?” Zhao Sheng’s wife gasped.
“What sound? There’s no sound,” the man’s breath quickened.
“It’s like… Oh! My dear, I—I'm going to die of pleasure!”
Zhao Sheng took her words as encouragement, his moves growing more eager.
Ling Zhao, young and full of vigor, was no saint. The blood in his veins boiled, stirred by the woman’s moans, heat flooding down and rising to his face.
His hand lost its aim; he tore off the button, inadvertently pulling a lock of Xiao Ming’s hair, making her gasp in pain.
His fingers tangled in her silky hair; desire welled up, but he suddenly pressed her into his embrace, covering her ears.
At that moment, Xiao Ming was held fast by the nape, like a hen awaiting slaughter.
She was on the verge of tears. Couldn’t he let her hide quietly? Why did he have to meddle, making things worse?
Ling Zhao regretted it, too. If he'd known, he should’ve let her run earlier—if they were discovered, he could’ve shielded her. Why torment himself here?
A self-inflicted ordeal.
At last, after what felt like an eternity, the commotion at the pavilion faded away.

Ling Zhao heard their footsteps receding; he loosened his hold and looked down, finally seeing her face, bare of makeup—exquisite, her eyes luminous and enchanting.
Nose to nose.
Suddenly aware of their closeness, they sprang apart.
“Did I hurt you?” Ling Zhao tried to sound calm.
Xiao Ming shook her head, tidying her mussed hair, murmuring, “I’m fine. It was just your dagger pressing into me.”
“My dagger?” Ling Zhao was startled. He always wore a sword at his waist—when had he ever carried a dagger?
A moment of thought revealed the truth. His face flushed red; he quickly stepped back to put distance between them.
He steadied himself, cleared his throat, and his gaze turned sharp. “Do you usually like reading such things?”
Xiao Ming was baffled. What was he talking about? Wasn’t he the one who couldn’t tear his eyes away moments ago?
But she had a favor to ask; she dared not argue. Bowing her head, she offered a respectful curtsy. “Thank you, Young Master Ling.”
He paused, awkward, and quickly changed the subject. “Did Grandmother mention your marriage at the banquet today?”
Her hand tightened around her handkerchief; her lips pulled into a strained smile. “The old lady only spoke of other girls’ marriages and happened to mention me in passing.”
His deep gaze pinned her. “And you?”
Xiao Ming looked up, finally studying him in the moonlight. Dressed in dark attire, leather belt cinching his waist, every contour of his face seemed etched by the silver glow.
He was a man forged in battle, survivor of slaughter and carnage. A single pursed lip or furrowed brow brought a fierce aura over his handsome features, making others instinctively retreat.
Who would have imagined that such a severe young man had only just completed his coming-of-age ceremony?
A chill ran down her spine; she shivered. “My family has fallen. My status is humble. Being allowed to reside in the General’s mansion is an immense honor. Since we are betrothed, sooner or later I am yours. How could I take the old lady’s jest seriously?”
“You don’t have anyone you fancy?”
“O-of course not.”
Ling Zhao’s eyes darkened. “If you do, best kill that thought early. I don’t like forcing anyone.”