Chapter 76: The Place (Part Two)

Though his lower lip had been bitten, it didn’t hurt—there was only a faint itch, an itch that burrowed into his heart, one he longed to scratch but could not reach. He knew all this was real; asking Chu Yan to pinch him had only been a jest. Never had he expected that she would choose such a way to show him affection.

His beloved Chu Chu had kissed him in this manner.

In that moment, Xue Ao found the world impossibly delightful. She was still poised on tiptoe, clinging to him, her rosy lips only two inches from his jaw. He could feel her gentle breath brushing his lips, sweet and soft, intoxicating enough to make anyone lose themselves.

Seeing his dazed silence, with a wild joy and disbelief painting his face, Liu Chuyan thought he looked rather like a simpleton. He seemed like a fool who had stumbled upon a flower: wanting to devour it but unable to bear the thought, wishing to wear it but finding it unfit, never once considering casting it aside—so all he could do was cradle it gently in his hands, staring fixedly, not daring to blink.

In truth, she found her own actions rather unbelievable. She had forgiven him so easily; when she saw him frown, she even felt a pang of heartache. Most astonishing of all, she had done something so forward. Yet there was no shame in her heart, only thread upon thread of sweetness. What was happening to her? Was it Madame Xue’s provocation? Had she been moved by Xue Ao? Or perhaps, she truly had fallen for him, and so could forgive him so swiftly?

She tried to sort through her thoughts, but Xue Ao gave her no chance. He cupped her face and kissed her.

He was still mindful of her feelings, afraid she might resist, so he only pecked her lips a few times in tentative exploration. When he saw her slightly bewildered, unsure how to respond, he smiled and gently enveloped her soft lips with his own.

Liu Chuyan was at a loss, for things between them had progressed so quickly—so much so that, before marriage, she wondered if she was being wanton. The thought left her even more confused: she was already thinking about before the wedding; did this mean she was willing to marry him? How had her attitude toward him shifted so rapidly? Where had things gone awry?

Xue Ao trapped her against his chest, one hand at her waist, the other cupping her cheek, close enough that they could see the reflection in each other’s eyes. She gazed at him, eyes half open in a haze of confusion, as if puzzled by his actions. He wanted to explain, but his mind lagged behind his hands; his heart clamored that it wasn’t enough, that restraint was not his way.

He let the tip of his tongue slip out, probing into her mouth, and was startled when it brushed her warm, soft tongue. Last time, he had stolen a kiss from her, and though she responded, it hadn’t felt like this. How could he describe it? Fragrant, soft, tingling, numbing—her sweetness almost made him forget the passage of time.

“Chu Chu…” he murmured indistinctly into her mouth. Liu Chuyan watched his lashes flutter before her eyes, his breath, hot as soup, washing over her face. Her heart softened; she closed her eyes, feeling her cheeks flush so fiercely it was frightening.

Xue Ao’s breath grew ever hotter. No longer satisfied with such fleeting touches, he loosened his hold slightly, his teeth gently catching her lips before sucking them deeply, then covering her entire mouth, pouring his breath into her until there was nothing left.

She knew it was wrong, yet she still sank into his embrace, Liu Chuyan’s body softening involuntarily. Perhaps it was the quiet of their surroundings, perhaps the privacy of this secluded space, but she felt both exhilarated and secure. Her arms wound around his neck, most of her weight resting against him.

Xue Ao noticed her breathing falter, her body limp, her steps unsteady. He chuckled low, pressing his forehead to hers. “Chu Chu, seeing you like this—I’m happier than when Father praised me as a child.”

“Don’t—don’t say that…” Liu Chuyan, shy and embarrassed, kept her eyes closed, not daring to look at him, though her voice was light and cheerful.

Xue Ao too was filled with the utmost joy. The person he had longed for day and night was now in his arms. Though some lingering awkwardness remained between them, their bodies were utterly attuned—he pecked her nose and cheeks, his voice hoarse as he called her name: “Chu Chu, Chu Chu… I wish I could marry you this very instant.”

“But your mother doesn’t like me.”

“What did she say to you?”

“Nothing,” Liu Chuyan replied, not wishing to elaborate. But Xue Ao, half coaxing, half pestering, insisted, “You have to tell me, or if she bullies you in the future, I’ll never know.”

“Then you won’t know.” Liu Chuyan truly didn’t want to bring it up, evading his questions as best she could.

“Chu Chu…” Xue Ao grew a little annoyed. Tightening his grip around her waist, he scooped her up and strode forward a few steps, pressing her against the gallery’s eaves.

They had just been beneath the shifting shadows of trees, light and darkness intermingling so that Liu Chuyan could not tell day from night. Now, suddenly in a new place, a glaring white light assaulted her eyes. Panic seized her, as if her secrets were being laid bare in the sun; she began to struggle. “Xue Ao, let me go.”

“What’s wrong?” Women were fickle, Xue Ao knew that well enough, but this change was too abrupt. He frowned, utterly perplexed.

Seeing his furrowed brow, Liu Chuyan stopped struggling, and after a moment’s silence, said softly, “Can we go inside? It’s too bright here, I—I feel uneasy, even a little afraid.” She spoke with head bowed, eyes lowered.

So it was shyness. Xue Ao let out a long sigh of relief, scooped her up horizontally, and carried her inside, kicking the door shut behind them. Three sides of the room had windows barred, the main entrance tightly closed, the space dim and even more constricted under the ink-washed curtains.

Liu Chuyan glanced around and noticed a row of paintings on the west wall. Some were ink splashes, some simple outlines of human figures, some nothing more than a pair of eyes dabbed onto paper with a finger dipped in paint. Yet each was carefully mounted and hung there.

“These, are all…” Liu Chuyan began, but hesitated.

“These are all you,” Xue Ao finished for her, gazing at her delicate profile, his heart a little nervous but more than anything, suffused with satisfaction. Once, he could only remember her in his heart, dream of her, draw her with his brush—the Chu Chu he liked, who haunted his every thought almost to obsession. Now, she stood before him, sharing in these memories.

The nearest canvases depicted their childhood stories; to the left, several were clearly new. Liu Chuyan stepped closer and couldn’t help but smile.

Xue Ao, in truth, could hold a grudge. He didn’t paint her charming smiles, but captured her frowning, pouting, glaring—all displaying her fierce brows and stormy temper. Yet this was their norm: they had never truly gotten along, not even the night before, when they had argued. Still, she could sense from his fine brushwork his feelings for her: the care with which he observed her, and his love, which had seeped into his very bones.

She realized she could never blame him again.

At last, she understood why she had changed so much. It was Madame Xue’s attitude that made her see even more clearly how much he cared for her; that he loved her more than she had ever cherished the “Brother Jun Cheng” of her memories. Madame Xue was a formidable woman, one who dared outmaneuver even Xue Tan, yet could do nothing with Xue Ao. Anyone else, faced with such circumstances, would likely have yielded to maternal pressure. Only Xue Ao dared to love her openly and without reserve.

He said he wanted only her. Even if Madame Xue disapproved, he would not be swayed; he would rather have his mother close her eyes and ears, refuse to meddle, and even threaten her with himself. For her sake, he would rather not be a dutiful son, would rather be scorned by the world.

How many in this world could know such love?

Outsiders called Xue Ao arrogant and rude, a bully who lorded his power over others, cold and heartless. No one knew of this side of him. Beneath his hardened exterior was a heart both tender and pure.

His love was pure and passionate. When he missed her, he painted her—her laughter, her tears. Whenever she came to mind, his brush conjured image after image: beautiful, coquettish, joyous, sorrowful versions of her. When he loved her, he proclaimed it boldly, eager for the world to know she was the one he cherished above all.

To win such a heart—what had Liu Chuyan done to deserve it?

The old master had once said she was warm on the outside, cool within. She smiled at others, caused no trouble, never quarreled, and the few disputes she had were for the sake of Elder Lady Han and Han Shuwei. She seldom treated people coldly, but it was rare for anyone to truly matter to her; only a handful of kin she respected and loved held a place in her heart.

She and he were opposites.

What happens when outward warmth meets outward cold but inward heat? This, perhaps.

Liu Chuyan took his offered hand, smiling faintly, her eyes brimming with tears.

“What’s this? Moved to tears?” Xue Ao also smiled. At last, the rift between them seemed truly healed.

Liu Chuyan nodded at his words, then slowly shook her head.

“Chu Chu, I don’t want you to be moved—I want you to give me your heart.” Xue Ao pressed her to him, holding her tightly, his hand roaming her back. His tongue swept through her mouth, stirring a tempest with domineering force.

Liu Chuyan understood his meaning, the reason for his sudden fervor.

He wanted her to love him.

But her hesitation made Xue Ao seize her tongue, sucking hard, rough and wild, so much that Liu Chuyan almost couldn’t breathe.

Her tongue ached, her fists pounded weakly against his chest, only to be caught in his broad palm. She murmured in protest, shy and angry, and bit him in return.

Deeming the punishment sufficient, Xue Ao finally released her, laughing in satisfaction as she panted in his arms. “Chu Chu, say you’ll marry me.”

She would not. Pouting, Liu Chuyan turned her face away. This man, given an inch, would take a mile. If she agreed now, wouldn’t he make the whole world know they had pledged themselves to each other?

Author’s Note: Suddenly remembered I forgot to explain the bookmark detail in the extras, so I added some scenes in Chapter 102, “Childhood Extra (II).” If you’re interested, go take a look! Good night!