"Feels good, right?"
Tang Qiyue hesitated, unsure how to respond.
Zhan Zeyi stared into her eyes, his face slowly inching closer until their breaths mingled. Then, unexpectedly, he stopped.
"If it feels good, that's all that matters!"
The sudden praise startled Tang Qiyue, who had prepared herself for a scolding. Her eyes widened involuntarily.
"You're not angry?" she asked, surprised. She had expected him to be upset at her rash behavior, thinking it might cause trouble.
"Oh, why should I be angry?" Zhan Zeyi said casually, stepping back. He no longer stared her down with pressure but instead walked past her into the house.
Tang Qiyue could only follow.
Though the moon shone brightly, the house was pitch black. Zhan Zeyi hadn't located the oil lamp yet, so he simply went to the bedside and lay down.
Tang Qiyue went to the table, lit the lamp, and adjusted the windproof cover and flame size, bathing the room in warm orange light.
Zhan Zeyi lay on his side, propping his head on one hand, observing her bustling about. The furniture was familiar, but Tang Qiyue had tidied and decorated it in her own style.
A tea tray with a set sat on the table, covered neatly. Chair covers added a touch of artfulness, and a curtain over the wardrobe hid its plain shelves. Beside it, a large mirror reflected full-body images. Zhan Zeyi's sharp eyes caught his reflection clearly.
Two thermos flasks sat under the table. Two extra pairs of sandals by the bed—men's and women's—revealed Tang Qiyue's careful preparation.
She then pulled a rattan box from her dowry chest, along with cotton cloth and a measuring tape.
"Stand up, I'll measure you!" she said.
Tying her hair casually with a handkerchief, she approached Zhan Zeyi.
"I have a military uniform. I don't need new clothes!" he said, raising an eyebrow.
Tang Qiyue coughed lightly. "I'm not making your outerwear. I just noticed your trousers hanging over the bamboo shed today—they're patched and have holes! No need to patch them anymore."
Zhan Zeyi froze. He hadn't even thought of that. Rough, unrefined, and trained to endure, he had long ignored his tattered underwear. After all, who would see what was worn underneath?
Now that he was married, his wife had noticed. Thick-skinned as he was, he simply stood up and let her measure his waist.
For Tang Qiyue, this was her first time sewing something for a man. Despite her preparation, she felt slightly awkward, but boxer shorts were simple—just waist and length measurements.
She cut and sewed quickly, and when finished, handed the new underwear to him.
"Wear this tomorrow," she said, putting away the leftover fabric and sewing kit.
Zhan Zeyi held the pair in his hands until Tang Qiyue reached the bedside, then slipped them under the blanket. She looked at him, unsure.
"Um… shall I sleep on the outside?"
The bed was against the wall, so to lie on the other side, she'd have to climb over him. Zhan Zeyi, needing his morning exercises, wouldn't want her to disturb him—and as a grown man, he couldn't let her sleep on the outside.
"Tsk!" he interjected, shifting slightly to make room.
Tang Qiyue took off her shoes and climbed in. Just as she was about to cross over, Zhan Zeyi intercepted her, holding her waist and pulling her into his arms.
With a twist, he laid her down, casually covering her with the blanket, one arm draped over her neck, holding her securely.
Tang Qiyue had thought of resisting, but instinctively knew that since they weren't pretending to be a couple, she didn't need to be wary.
One deliberate action and one indulgent, and they ended up lying together.
"Wife, did I ever say we wouldn't pretend to be a couple?"
His warm breath brushed her ear, sending shivers of pleasure through her. Tang Qiyue hummed softly in agreement.
If not for this excuse, she would never have allowed him so close. How could someone who could kill a wild boar with a single blow be powerless against Zhan Zeyi?
"Now tell me, why didn't you kill the man?" he asked, flicking a grass bead that landed in the lampshade, extinguishing the flame and plunging the room into darkness.
Tang Qiyue didn't notice at first, bewildered by his two questions. Then she realized the meaning behind his second one.
"Murder is illegal!" she said frankly, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "Then you must have many ways to make him die without anyone noticing!"
Tang Qiyue's words stunned her own thoughts. She turned to Zhan Zeyi, moonlight spilling through the window and gauze, highlighting the certainty in his eyes.
"I'm not a serial killer. He may be abusive, but even his wife never laid a hand on him. What right do I, an outsider, have to do such a thing?"
She felt his words were unreasonable—but the warmth of his presence, the certainty in his gaze, and the intimacy of the moment left her speechless.
No words followed; only a gentle touch on her lips, speaking more than any conversation could.