Seventeen thousand and seventeen.

The afternoon was at its hottest, the stifling air making it hard to breathe. Even the occasional breeze carried warmth. The leaves on the trees drooped listlessly, devoid of any vitality.

Suihua glanced upward; the leaves were curled and dry, as if all moisture had been baked out—an unmistakable sign of the sweltering heat. Yet, despite such oppressive weather, someone sat motionless for an entire hour without reddening or gasping for breath.

Lowering her gaze, Suihua looked at Shen Shuyao, who had been sitting quietly for a long time, her brows furrowed in thought. What was troubling her lady? Her complexion had been poor since morning. At first, Suihua thought she hadn’t rested well, but judging by her current state, it was clear she wasn’t sleepy.

Tentatively, Suihua leaned forward. Seeing Shen Shuyao staring blankly into space, she couldn’t help but speak: “Young Mistress, aren’t you tired? Please come inside and rest.”

Shen Shuyao lay prone on the stone table, her chin slightly flushed. The thin fabric of her garment clung tightly to her spine, the curve of her shoulder blades clearly visible. The heat made her cheeks glisten with sweat, and a few strands of hair stuck to the side of her face—yet she was oblivious, still lost in thought.

At Suihua’s voice, her eyelids fluttered but she remained still.

“I can’t sleep,” she murmured.

How could she sleep? The events of last night troubled her mind. Xie Yi had changed—his attitude toward her was indifferent, neither warm nor cold, and he no longer wished to touch her. At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before they slept in separate rooms.

Once a couple slept apart, it marked the beginning of emotional detachment. Though their feelings had never been profound, compared to other couples, Shen Shuyao was at least content with the bond she shared with Xie Yi.

If they did separate, Xie Yi would surely take a concubine, perhaps even formally accept Xiao Xiao as one. By then, it would be too late for her to do anything.

The more she thought, the more upset she became. She rubbed her neck and finally looked up. At this hour, why hadn’t Xie Yi returned?

Suihua noticed her gaze and followed it, understanding immediately. “Ling Chun put some chilled grapes in the room. You should try some.”

Eating something cool in summer was refreshing, especially after last night’s spicy meal; her throat was still sore.

Shen Shuyao rose; her hands were numb from leaning on the table so long. She massaged them, arms weak, and walked slowly back to the room—she really had been sitting too long.

The grapes on the table were covered with droplets of water, translucent and vibrant, tempting her to take a bite.

She was easily pleased. Seeing such fresh, cool fruit, much of her sulkiness vanished. Taking a deep breath, she wiped her hands and popped a grape into her mouth. Tart and sweet, cool and invigorating—delicious.

Her mood lightened considerably. After enjoying the cool breeze indoors for a while, drowsiness crept over her. She yawned lazily and headed toward the bed.

Mumbling indistinctly, she said, “I’ll sleep for a bit,” then collapsed.

Ling Chun and Zhiwei were busy elsewhere; only Suihua remained to attend to her. Hearing this, she lowered the canopy and quietly closed the door upon leaving.

Not long after Shen Shuyao had fallen asleep, Xie Yi returned from the government office. Seeing her sleeping, he didn’t disturb her but changed clothes and went to the study.

Shen Shuyao slept deeply and woke at dusk. The sunset painted the sky with crimson hues, casting a soft red glow through the window—exquisite.

She sat for a while, then, parched, got up to drink water.

Noticing the hour, she called Suihua in and asked, “Has Xie Yi come back yet?”

“He has, but he just went out again.”

“Where to?”

Xie Yi had instructed not to wait for him to dine tonight; Master Fu had invited him.

Ling Chun relayed this precisely: “Master Fu invited the lord to drink.”

She nodded silently. She knew Fu Yingcheng well—before marriage, they had met several times. He was notorious as a playboy, always chasing after fleeting pleasures. Shen Shuyao disliked Fu Yingcheng, but since he was close to Xie Yi, she refrained from saying more and simply let it be.

Since Fu Yingcheng invited Xie Yi out, he would likely be back late. Shen Shuyao sighed, still hoping to test Xie Yi when he returned. She wished she wouldn’t have fallen asleep by then.

—

Deep into the night, Lan Garden was quiet. The gatekeeper dozed by the door, legs crossed, supporting his weary body as he swayed. A stronger gust caused him to stagger forward, nearly falling.

Roused slightly, he rubbed his eyes and suddenly saw a pair of feet before him. Startled, he looked up and met a pair of sharp eyes, instantly sobering and growing tense.

“L-Lord, you’re back.”

Xie Yi grunted softly, a trace of redness at the corners of his eyes, a faint scent of alcohol on his breath. He stepped inside, telling the gatekeeper to sit down and rest instead of standing—lest he fall again.

—

The gatekeeper eagerly nodded. Once Xie Yi entered, he exhaled in relief, thankful the lord bore no ill will.

Inside, a single lamp flickered softly, casting wavering shadows. The person in bed slept soundly. Xie Yi instinctively moved quietly, lifting the canopy to glance at her. Seeing her dimly, he smiled faintly, lowered the curtain, then went to the bath chamber. Afterward, he lay on the bed, and soon fell asleep.

His day had been busy with official duties; then he had accompanied Fu Yingcheng for several drinks. Naturally, he was exhausted.

Not long after he slept, Shen Shuyao opened her eyes. Carefully turning over, she stared at him.

Why had he come home so late? Her mind swirled with chaotic thoughts, preventing sleep. Initially resigned to lying still, she grew annoyed seeing him so peaceful and suddenly sat up. Raising her hand to strike him lightly, her arm paused midair before dropping.

Gazing at the moonlight pouring through the window, she suddenly longed to go outside and enjoy the moon.

With that thought, she slipped out, draping a coat around her shoulders. Suihua, on night watch, immediately woke and whispered, “Young Mistress, can’t sleep?”

She nodded, then instructed Suihua to fetch some wine—how could moon gazing be without wine? She planned to drink a few cups.

The garden pavilion was perfect for drinking. Shen Shuyao decided to sit there. Knowing her poor tolerance, Suihua brought fruit wine.

Sweet and fragrant, not at all harsh, it suited Shen Shuyao well.

Late into the night, Suihua kept quiet, tending to her alone. Pouring one cup after another, after Shen Shuyao had five, Suihua stopped refilling.

“Madam, no more drinking. It could harm your health.”

Shen Shuyao was clear-headed now and sighed upon hearing this. She took the cup, saying, “It’s fine, just a little now and then.”

Then she poured another cup. Seeing she wasn’t drunk, Suihua didn’t object further and stayed by her side through the night.

Meanwhile, inside the room, Xie Yi, sound asleep, reached out and found no one beside him—instantly awake.

“Shen Shuyao.” His voice was husky, low and pleasant.

The room was silent. Where had she gone?

He lifted the canopy and noticed the door slightly ajar. Putting on his shoes, he stepped out and immediately spotted her sitting in the pavilion, drinking. Her figure was delicate; she tilted her neck slightly, enjoying the drink.

Xie Yi watched for a moment, about to step forward, when he heard her drunken rambling.

“He’s a bastard, a lecherous scoundrel. Hmph, what’s so great about him?”

Xie Yi frowned, rooted to the spot, listening carefully. Who was she talking about? Surely not him.

Then she muttered something else, indistinct and mumbled.

Seeing her tipsy state, Suihua tried to help her inside, but Shen Shuyao, caught up in the mood, refused. Narrowing her eyes, Suihua took the cup away.

“Young Mistress, let’s go back. No more drinking.”

“Sleeping with him is dull anyway.”

Suihua was speechless with surprise.

Nearby, Xie Yi’s relaxed brow tightened again. Who was she talking about?

Now deep in the night, with no one around and emboldened by the wine, Shen Shuyao continued.

“Tch, he’s just a grass-eater by the nest.”

Who again? Xie Yi’s head throbbed. Before he could think further, Shen Shuyao muttered, “When did you start liking Xiao Xiao?”

Mentioning Xiao Xiao, he understood immediately—she was talking about and cursing him.

Xie Yi could only laugh bitterly. Shen Shuyao had misunderstood his feelings for Xiao Xiao, explaining her recent coldness and sulkiness.

And that spicy dinner that night—was it deliberate?

—

Xie Yi arched an eyebrow and gestured to Suihua to rest. She widened her eyes, glanced at Shen Shuyao, then nodded and withdrew.

The night breeze was cool, the moonlight hazy.

Everything before her eyes swayed as if veiled by a thin mist, indistinct. Only when Xie Yi sat beside her did Shen Shuyao register his presence.

“Huh? Suihua, how did you turn into Xie Yi? Change back, you’re annoying.”

“Annoyed by Xie Yi?”

The man supported her back, fearing she might fall in her dizzy state.

“Shh, don’t mention him.”

Her eyes, usually clear and bright, now looked hazy and shimmering with moisture, making her seem vulnerable. Her small, rosy lips shushed him softly, tender and endearing.

He swallowed, glanced at the wine flask on the table—half empty. No wonder she was acting so wild.

“Let’s go back inside.”

Unable to tolerate her antics outside, Xie Yi carried her back. Shen Shuyao resisted, kicking and punching, but her strength was negligible—like mere tickles to him.

—

Where she found the energy, no one knew. Once on the bed, she was restless, getting up and muttering nonsense with closed eyes.

“Xie Yi, Xie Yi.”

Xie Yi sighed helplessly, replying several times as she kept calling.

“Go to sleep.”

She shook her head, eyes glassy and unfocused, seemingly unaware of her words.

“I’ll teach you.”

“Teach me what?”

He pressed her down, but she climbed up again, swaying, her soft, snowy form bouncing and catching the eye.

“I—I’ll teach you… about men and women.”

Xie Yi chuckled. “What could you possibly know? Just sleep.”

Each time she bit her lip, too shy to speak, he had wondered how she endured it. Now she was claiming she’d instruct him on such matters—how absurd.

“I’ll teach you. Like this, later concubines will dislike you.”

She was drunk, slurring and unclear, but he understood.

“I’m not involved with Xiao Xiao like that. She is…” He paused. “It’s useless explaining to a drunkard.”

He pressed her down again. She opened her eyes, voice soft and gentle.

“Men, this won’t do.”

Xie Yi tilted his head, about to speak when she suddenly mounted his strong legs, a posture charged with ambiguous desire.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as his throat went dry. He felt a tingling scalp sensation. Before she even moved, pleasure began to bloom.

“First, a kiss.”

Shen Shuyao lowered her head; her black hair fell around her cheeks, shadowing the last sliver of light.

—