As dusk approached, golden rays of the setting sun fell across the man’s elegant and noble face, emphasizing the depth of his eyes. Beneath thick, sword-like eyebrows, his gaze carried an imposing aura even without a trace of anger.
He was strikingly handsome. Below his high, straight nose, the corners of his thin lips curved slightly, as if always holding a subtle, natural smile—softening the solemnity in his eyes.
Liu Miantang still remembered her first impression after her severe illness: though handsome, he didn’t look like the settled type. His face suggested a penchant for romance, a restless charm. Whoever became his wife would surely bear a weary heart.
The ancients warned that appearances can be deceiving—judging too quickly could invite misfortune.
Still weak on her sickbed, she quickly realized the truth of that warning. The scented sachet she had prepared for her future husband before marriage now dangled conspicuously on this young man, who smiled with an unmistakable flirtation.
When the physician who was taking her pulse addressed him as Master Cui Jiu, she vaguely understood: she was indeed the wife destined for a weary heart.
Upon receiving confirmation from the physician, a storm of emotions swirled within her. How was she to face this unfamiliar husband?
At that moment, too weak to speak, she could only lie in bed, watching Cui Jiu sit nearby and ask the physician, “How is her condition? How long before she can speak?”
That deep, magnetic voice brought an inexplicable sense of comfort.
Before she could dwell further, Cui Jiu had lifted the door curtain and entered. Seeing her staring blankly, he paused, then spoke flatly, “I’m back.”
By her reckoning, it had been over a month since they last met.
Although they had been married for years, all memories of their life together had vanished from her mind. She could not feel the longing of a wife missing her husband. Yet, fragments from others hinted that they had once been a devoted couple.
Grateful for his care of the Liu family and herself, she steadied herself, rose, and moved to help remove his cloak.
Before she could reach him, his long fingers had already undone the ties, tossing the satin cloak onto a nearby chair.
Seeing him seated, Miantang poured water into a cup and said, “Li Mama is cooking in the kitchen and hasn’t brought hot water yet. This lukewarm water isn’t good for making tea, but husband, please at least wet your throat for now.”
Following the etiquette she had learned before marriage, she half-bowed, raising the cup to her forehead in the proper gesture of respect.
Cui Jiu’s deep eyes narrowed slightly. He did not take the cup, instead picking up a nearby book and flipping through it. “Doctor Zhao said that after your serious illness, you’re most susceptible to cold air and should avoid drinking such cool water.”
As he spoke, he called toward the door, “Li Mama, bring in some hot tea!”
Li Mama was quick. In no time, she returned with a pot of fragrant hot tea.
Cui Jiu took the teacup, casually rolled up his sleeves, brushed away the tea froth with the lid, and sipped elegantly.
Miantang recalled learning the art of tea from her female instructor—the precise movements of lifting the lid, brushing the tea, rubbing the cup—but seeing Cui Jiu, she realized even her instructor’s graceful demonstration seemed slightly clumsy.
Though the Cui family had risen from humble merchant origins, Cui Jiu carried the refinement of the gentry. In comparison, she, a half-trained daughter of a fallen official family, felt ill-matched to this jade-like gentleman.
After serving the tea, Li Mama respectfully withdrew, leaving them alone.
Such private moments were rare. When bedridden, Miantang had been attended by maids; when she recovered, Cui Jiu often left for business. Now, sitting across from each other, she remembered that a wife’s duties were more than respect—they included conjugal obligations.
A nervous flutter rose in her chest.
Cui Jiu set down his teacup and asked gently about her health and recovery.
Relieved that he was only speaking casually, Miantang answered each question carefully.
After a few moments, he asked nonchalantly, “Since you’ve just arrived, why don’t you take some time tomorrow to walk around the town? If you see anything you’d like to buy, feel free to do so.”
Miantang hesitated, then replied, “I don’t need anything. The streets are crowded and noisy. I’d rather stay at home and tidy up the place for some peace.”
The Cui family’s fortunes had declined. Valuable shops had been sold off, and their porcelain business in Lingquan Town was just beginning. While mindful of expenses, she did not wish to hurt her husband’s pride.
She stood, opening her jewelry box from her luggage. Inside were two silver notes sent by her maternal grandfather at her marriage. Though most of her dowry had disappeared during her illness, this box remained untouched.
Miantang handed him one note. “I heard from Li Mama that you’ve bought a new shop in town. Great success is just around the corner. My dowry isn’t much, but consider this an investment. When the shop opens, I can also share in some of the profits with you, husband.”
She phrased it carefully, saving his pride rather than admitting she feared their limited capital.
Cui Jiu regarded her quietly. “Aren’t you afraid of losing your dowry if the business fails?”
Placing the note on the table, she smiled gently. “In business, there are always gains and losses. It’s not as if one person can make all the money in the world. You using it is better than me being in the dark about it.”
Her flower-like smile softened the icy aura of her beauty, dimples appearing on her fair cheeks, giving her an air of innocent charm.
Cui Jiu’s eyes narrowed slightly before he took the silver note. “In that case, I’ll keep it for you for now… But you should still go to the market. I’ve already ordered new fabric for you at the clothes shop. Go and have a look, and if you don’t like it, choose something else you prefer…”
Miantang nodded, unable to refuse his thoughtful gesture.
Li Mama appeared next, asking if the master would dine. Upon his approval, she brought a lacquered tray filled with Jiangnan-style dishes: lotus root slices stuffed with meat, beggar’s chicken fragrant with lotus leaves, and tofu soup topped with crab roe. Today, she had prepared everything with unusual care.
Miantang, who had been eating mostly rice porridge and vegetables, ate the meat with eager focus. Only after satisfying her craving did she remember her manners, lifting a small bowl of tofu soup to her eyebrows and offering it to her husband.
She had been too self-absorbed. In the past, her father scolded her for poor table manners, and now she feared wasting such a rare feast.
Cui Jiu ate sparingly, mostly observing her. Her wholehearted enjoyment, though unrefined, made the meal feel warmer, drawing him into a few more bites than intended.
After eating, they sat in quiet reflection, the room heavy with silence.
Cui Jiu rinsed his mouth with fragrant tea. “A new batch of goods has arrived at the dock, and I need to check the inventory. I probably won’t be back tonight. You’ve had a tiring journey, so you should rest soon.”
Miantang, relieved at this, breathed a soft sigh. “Although it’s Jiangnan, the nights can still be chilly. Husband, you should dress warmly…”
She handed him a small padded jacket she had sewn over the past few days.
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