Night Talk

"I'm not crying." Pei Rusong choked out, stubbornly turning his head to avoid her gaze. "I just didn't dry my face properly after washing it."

If he had admitted it openly, or taken the opportunity to act spoiled, Wen Chan might have been suspicious. But the more he tried to hide it, the more obvious it became. As Wen Chan reached out to wipe his tears, she couldn't help but laugh in exasperation. "If you have something to say, just say it properly. Can you not act like I'm about to sever all ties with you?"

In the darkness, Wen Chan couldn't see his face, but she could imagine his tear-streaked, mournful expression. She felt him grab her hand and hold it tightly in his palm. "Have I made Your Highness hate me?"

"What I mean is," Wen Chan cajoled him patiently, "if you have matters to attend to and come back late in the future, it's fine for you to sleep in the Agarwood Courtyard. There's no need to sneak around like a thief."

But Pei Rusong pulled her hand to his chest and wrapped his arms around her like unfurling vines. "Is that all? Does Your Highness not have any other thoughts in your heart?"

Wen Chan: "What thoughts?"

"Your Highness has always been very indulgent with me." Pei Rusong kissed the corner of her eye, his soft, almost bewitching voice close to her temple. "But I'm not a deity, after all. There must be times when I make Your Highness angry, right? Yet Your Highness has almost never lost your temper with me. You always compromise, endure, and give way..."

Wen Chan scoffed, "I'd like to, but do I not want my house anymore? If it gets washed away by a flood, who would I complain to?"

"Is Your Highness more concerned about the house, or about me?" A hint of a smile was in Pei Rusong's voice, and he was already starting to entice her. "As the saying goes, 'love gives rise to worry and fear.' The more you cherish something, the more you care. Your Highness is always as unshakable as a mountain, which makes me a little apprehensive..."

A single finger pressed precisely against the space between his brows, pushing his head away. Wen Chan said flatly, "Because I don't have such rich emotions. Don't lump a normal person like me together with a Little White Flower like you who sheds tears at the slightest touch."

Pei Rusong insisted on leaning in to kiss her. "Liar."

Wen Chan pinched his mouth shut. "What did I lie about?"

Pei Rusong took the opportunity to kiss her dry palm. "Your Highness has clearly been angry these past few days."

Wen Chan: "...I haven't."

Another kiss landed on her wrist. "Liar."

Wen Chan: "Stop asking for a scolding. What's wrong with you? You cry after I scold you, and then I have to be the one to comfort you."

A series of light kisses fell continuously. This time, Pei Rusong didn't speak, but each kiss seemed to be a silent accusation of her insincerity.

Wen Chan: "..."

She had to admit, the Little White Flower was surprisingly perceptive at times. Then again, it was also possible she hadn't concealed it well enough. After all, getting angry over something like this was a first in her life experience; it was inevitable that someone would notice the signs.

Wen Chan rarely experienced feelings of 'worrying about personal gains and losses.' Knowing that she couldn't hold onto anything in the end, she had always been exceptionally detached about gains and losses—be it power, subordinates, or even Pei Rusong. However, in this life, Pei Rusong had become the biggest variable. When she tried to let someone into her heart, she was bound to have her peace of mind disturbed by his every move. This was especially true when these emotions were not controlled by reason, like a holy monk breaking his vows, causing weeds of annoyance and unwillingness to sprout suddenly in her heart.

Her conversation with Yang Tingying tonight had made her understand something: a married couple should respect each other and have their own freedom. In her previous life, Wen Chan and Pei Rusong had lived separately in the main hall and the rear courtyard. Aside from necessary updates, she never cared who Pei Rusong met, what he did, or when he came home at night. But now, both of them had unfinished business from their past lives. Because they lived together, Pei Rusong had to resort to finding all sorts of excuses to stay out, being extremely careful late at night so as not to disturb her.

In truth, it was hard for Pei Rusong's little movements to escape Wen Chan's spies. She knew that he had recently grown close to someone from the Eastern Palace, and she also knew that he was using the old case of Xiang Guihai, which Wen Chan had dug up, to have people secretly continue investigating that master.

She was not unhappy because of the name "Su."

Wen Chan simply hated the concealment, hated the way he tried to spin lies to cover it up, and hated herself for knowing about the concealment but being unable to expose it. Intimacy was merely an embellishment of life. Rather than coveting that brief moment of tenderness, it would be better to return to the frank and open relationship of their previous life, where they could close their doors and do their own things, with neither getting in the other's way.

"I..."

The darkness, which hid their faces, paradoxically made it harder to speak, because anything said would sound like the truth. Wen Chan cupped his face, the pads of her fingers unconsciously stroking it. After pondering for a moment, she chose her words carefully. "I might be a little annoyed. On one hand, I'm angry that you're making excuses, and on the other, I wonder if I'm getting in your way."

"I'm not saying this out of spite. If we live separately like we used to, it would be more convenient for you to act. At the very least, you wouldn't have to wash your face in the dark when you come back at night, right?"

"But I'll have nightmares if I leave Your Highness," Pei Rusong hugged her tightly, as if holding the last treasure on earth. Every word that rolled off his tongue seemed to be coated in sugar. "Once a person has tasted the sweetness of mutual love, they can never go back. Even if we argue, get angry, or give each other the silent treatment, I still want to wake up with you every day."

Wen Chan: "..."

Sweet words were certainly pleasant to hear, but she felt he was blurring a very important issue. "Can't you just promise not to make me angry?"

Pei Rusong fell silent for a moment, then lowered his head and kissed her, forcibly stuffing her question back down.

As they kissed, they went from sitting to lying down. The suggestion to "sleep separately" was like a tiny spark, extinguished by the Prince Consort before it could even fully ignite. Wen Chan couldn't be bothered to say more to him. She lifted her foot and tapped Pei Rusong's calf. "When all is said and done, you still don't plan to confess what you're really up to, do you?"

"It's not that I'm deliberately keeping secrets, it's just that there are some things I haven't figured out myself yet. Once there's a result, I'll be the first to tell Your Highness." Pei Rusong smiled and asked, a little smugly, "It seems that although Your Highness has never brought it up, you've actually been very concerned about it in your heart, right?"

Wen Chan: "I'd even ask if the calico cat in the manor didn't come home for the night. It's purely because I'm a good person. Don't overthink it."

Not getting the answer he expected, Pei Rusong grunted in disappointment. But he was like a magpie gathering twigs everywhere; once he collected evidence of Wen Chan's love for him, the nest of security in his heart would become a layer stronger, and he would grow ever bolder. "In the future, if I make you unhappy, whether you hit me or scold me, just say it. But don't say things like 'separating' anymore. It's so inauspicious."

He slowly slid his fingers between Wen Chan's, interlacing them tightly. "Besides, we can't be separated anymore."

In the last moment of clarity before drowsiness washed over her, Wen Chan reviewed the night's entire performance from start to finish. She realized that Pei Rusong had used a series of tricks—acting spoiled, being unreasonable, and beating around the bush—to successfully blur the fact that he was in the wrong. He had not only dispelled Wen Chan's anger and avoided living separately, but he also hadn't revealed a single thing about what he was doing. It was a smooth and clever deception, and he had even taken advantage of her quite a bit in the process.

"You were pretending to cry just now, weren't you?" Wen Chan cruelly snatched her hand back and slapped him on the forehead. "One sentence couldn't have scared you that badly. Even a thunderstorm isn't as fast as your tears. Hmm, Eldest Young Miss?"

Pei Rusong squinted from the slap, the corners of his lips curling high, but his voice was filled with clear innocence. "I wasn't crying. I just washed my face and couldn't find a towel, then I remembered there was a handkerchief by the head of the bed and was about to dry it."

Wen Chan: "..."