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Chapter 6

On one side, Sheng Congyuan struggled within himself, deceiving himself as if to plunge into a bottomless abyss of darkness.

On the other side, Song Jinhua, who had just been forcing a cold expression, changed her face instantly once she sat in the carriage.

Her cheeks flushed red, her brows furrowed tightly, and she twisted her body to look at her waist.

"You said he wasn’t as strong as an ox, so why did he use so much force?"

The pure white waist sash showed clear creases where it had been firmly pinched, loosening as the hem of her top was quickly pulled aside.

Song Jinhua looked down and blushed even more in embarrassment. "It’s all red!"

Murmurs came from inside the carriage, prompting Ming Qiu to ask, "Miss, what did you say?"

Startled, Song Jinhua hurriedly pulled down her top to cover the glaring fingerprints on her delicate waist. "Nothing, I didn’t say anything."

Ming Qiu suspected nothing and remained silent.

After a long moment of nervousness, Song Jinhua sighed and turned her gaze back to her waist.

She lifted the hem again, the annoying red mark glaring back at her.

Her skin was fair and delicate since childhood.

Even a slight bruise, though not severe, would leave what appeared to be shocking marks on her tender skin.

She knew if she had suddenly fallen, had Sheng Congyuan not appeared to catch her, those marks on her waist wouldn’t be the only thing left.

But the thumb-shaped red imprint on such a spot was impossible to explain if anyone saw it, inevitably conjuring other images in her mind.

She had been sitting on him; her unconscious movements had quickened his breath and caused him to lose control, gripping her slender waist tightly.

She gasped, chiding, "Don’t pinch me, you’ll leave a mark again."

Yet he couldn’t restrain himself and squeezed harder.

One porcelain-white hand peeked through his fingers; the more he suppressed himself, the more uncontrollable he became.

When it ended, a gentle kiss landed on her sensitive waist and abdomen, followed by a shameless whisper from the man: "Next time, I’ll be gentler."

What a lie!

She had dreamed that lie several times!

He had never been gentle in her dreams!

No, with the talisman in hand, she wouldn’t see him in her dreams anymore!

*

At dusk.

The Sheng family of three sat around the dining table.

Sheng Yao seemed lost in thought, frequently distracted. When she finally came back to her senses, her bowl was piled high.

She turned and complained, "You put too much in my bowl; I can’t eat it all."

Li Zheng smiled warmly and added another piece of meat to her bowl. "You’ve been so busy preparing for our birthdays’ banquet you’ve lost weight. Eat more."

Sheng Yao grumbled discontentedly, "I still can’t eat this much."

"Just eat first. If you really can’t, give the leftovers to me."

Sheng Yao opened her mouth, seeming to want to say something more.

Li Zheng suddenly leaned close to her ear in front of their son and whispered something.

Sheng Yao’s cheeks flushed instantly; just a few words made her blush like a young girl.

Sheng Congyuan seemed quite used to his parents acting lovey-dovey despite their age.

He didn’t even raise his eyes, silently burying his head to eat heartily.

At that moment, Li Zheng diverted some attention and looked at his son. "Qi’an, I heard you went to the Liuli Pavilion two days ago to bid on my master’s painting?"

That renowned artist was Li Zheng’s teacher who had taught him painting in his youth.

Li Zheng was not particularly fond of collecting famous paintings, but since it was his master’s original work, he was glad to accept it.

Hearing this, Sheng Congyuan paused mid-bite and was silent for a long while.

Sheng Yao feigned confusion. "What’s wrong? Didn’t you win the bid?"

Sheng Congyuan swallowed the unchewed rice, feeling tightness in his throat and chest.

Li Zheng raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised to see his son acting so strangely and unusually.

But he was perceptive, like the time he had seen his ten-year-old son’s first crush.

Though he didn’t care much about the painting, he pressed on, asking, "Qi’an, why aren’t you saying anything?"

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Sheng Congyuan’s brows twitched, his thin lips pressing into a straight line.

He was no longer the shy child who blushed and panicked when his parents asked probing questions, but this topic inevitably reminded him of the day he met Song Jinhua.

No matter how many years passed, anything related to her unsettled his emotions.

His face darkened, voice cold and indifferent: "No, I didn’t win the bid."

Li Zheng quickly said, "But I heard that you were the one who eventually got the painting?"

Sheng Congyuan: "..."

He knew what was happening—clearly trying to trap him.

He lowered his gaze and corrected himself: "I resold it immediately."

Hearing this, Sheng Yao, who had been eagerly waiting, gasped softly and leaned toward her husband in a low voice: "He really sold it to Miss Song."

Her voice was soft, but with only the three of them present and no other conversation, it was easy for those sitting to overhear.

Suddenly Sheng Congyuan put down his chopsticks and stood up. "Father, Mother, I’m done eating. Please continue. I’ll go back to my room now."

Sheng Yao’s face changed slightly, revealing the panic of having spoken carelessly.

She instinctively wanted to speak again to save face but was stopped by Li Zheng.

Sheng Congyuan made no further delay, bowed slightly to his parents, and turned to leave.

After only a few steps, Sheng Yao’s anxious whisper came from behind: "Why are you stopping me? It really is Miss Song. If he still has feelings for her, what should we do? Why didn’t you make me ask clearly?"

Li Zheng replied, "He’s grown up and should make his own decisions. If it’s nothing serious, there’s no need to pry."

"But..."

"It’s nothing; don’t worry. If he dares to act foolishly, I’ll break both his legs."

The words, spoken deliberately loudly so Sheng Congyuan could hear, made him halt. His eyes darkened with a frightening intensity.

After a moment, he resumed walking—not back to his room but toward the training ground.

Inside the training ground.

The sky was dark, the heavy sound of fists continuously breaking the silence of the wide-open space.

On the platform, wooden dummies lay scattered, several broken.

Sweat poured down Sheng Congyuan’s drenched clothes, yet he did not restrain the force of his punches.

Though skilled with various weapons, he still preferred the most primal, bare-handed fighting.

To expend energy, to vent his pent-up frustration.

The violence of his punches was a stark contrast to his usual somber, cold demeanor.

Since the age of ten, when his father first saw through his crush on a girl, it had never been a secret that he thought of her frequently.

Later, he secretly and openly sought news about Song Jinhua, striving to establish himself in the capital, and his parents learned that the girl was indeed Song Jinhua.

However, Sheng Yao and Li Zheng did not overly interfere in his private affairs; the boy’s youthful feelings were left for him to handle himself.

Children have their own fortunes; whether he could win the girl’s favor depended entirely on himself.

But unexpectedly, just as they learned that Sheng Congyuan had finally found Song Jinhua and was searching for her, they also learned that the Song family daughter had been betrothed to the Zhu family’s young master.

Fate had already passed them by; there was no reason for forceful intrusion.

No need for Li Zheng’s threat to break his legs; Sheng Congyuan himself couldn’t do something so morally wrong.

Though dark and vile thoughts swirled within him, he could not truly sully Song Jinhua’s reputation or block her marriage.

Bang—

Another crisp sound as the last wooden dummy collapsed.

Sheng Congyuan’s chest heaved as he gasped for breath, sweat dripping down his face.

The massive exertion flushed his blood and muscles.

His gaze dark and heavy, fixed on the scattered dummies like a lion locking eyes on its prey—yet his thoughts drifted far away.

Ten years of repression; he should have been used to burying his feelings deep within.

It was only that, for the next several decades, he could no longer dream of holding her in his arms.

It was time to let go, wasn’t it?

She already avoided him as much as possible; if he pressed on, he might never even have the chance to greet her politely again.

*

That night.

Song Jinhua stealthily sent away the maid who was supposed to help her bathe.

She shed her clothes, revealing the delicate, curvaceous figure of a young woman.

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The red mark on her waist had faded slightly, likely to disappear completely by morning.

But the broad thumbprint, unmistakably a man’s, made her blush more each time she glanced at it.

Song Jinhua averted her eyes, silently scolding herself again. He truly was as strong as an ox; she couldn’t understand how her dreaming self had endured his insatiable demands.

After bathing alone, Song Jinhua solemnly took out the talisman she had requested from the Cloud Terrace Pavilion.

Whether useful or not, she treated it as a last resort.

She clasped her hands together and worshipped the moon sincerely, then placed the talisman under her pillow before lying down and closing her eyes.

Song Jinhua genuinely did not suffer from insomnia.

She had always been a sound sleeper; even though falling asleep now might bring dreams she desperately resisted, nothing could stop her from quickly sinking into deep sleep.

Sure enough, she soon entered a dream after closing her eyes.

When she realized her thoughts were clear and everything before her was vivid and real, she even breathed a slight sigh of relief.

Having seen Sheng Congyuan that day, even if the talisman under her pillow was useless, at least she didn’t dream of him just because she was thinking of him by day. Strange as the dream was, it was still the lesser misfortune.

But unexpectedly, tonight she did not dream of Sheng Congyuan.

Instead, it was Zhu Mingxuan.

In her dreams, Zhu Mingxuan appeared repeatedly during the days just after they had arranged their marriage and were returning to the capital.

At that time, she often dreamed of her gentle, jade-like cousin’s face turning ferocious, as if he would harm her or was plotting some sinister scheme.

However, Song Jinhua had not taken these strange dreams seriously then, blaming them on her poor sleep and bad meals during the journey.

After returning to the capital, such excuses no longer sufficed, and she gradually began to dream of other things.

Zhu Mingxuan was always secretly meeting a woman.

At first, he only met and talked with her; though their intimacy seemed borderline inappropriate, it was not enough to prove infidelity.

Later, the scenes in the dream grew wildly explicit.

Close whispers, intimate embraces.

From a viewpoint that should not exist in the room, Song Jinhua clearly saw the two lovers entwined on the bed.

Tonight, she saw Zhu Mingxuan again in her dream, and as before, from an unreal perspective, surely to witness similar scenes.

Outside the dream, the girl lay on the bed, eyes tightly shut, brows furrowed, resisting and suffering as if tormented by a nightmare.

And indeed it was a nightmare.

Song Jinhua truly did not want to see such scenes, yet she could not escape them, as if someone gripped her throat, forcing her to confront this reality.

Reality?

Was it fact that Zhu Mingxuan was unfaithful?

How could something that appeared only in a dream be taken as fact?

No matter how clear or vivid, how could she prove it to anyone?

Even she did not believe it herself.

In the midst of her chaotic struggle, she noticed the woman was absent from the scene.

She saw Zhu Mingxuan confidently enter an unfamiliar mansion; the servants on the road greeted him respectfully and familiarly, neither blocking his way nor questioning him much, as if he had been there many times before.

Zhu Mingxuan reached the main courtyard; candlelight illuminated the yard amidst the night’s darkness, but the atmosphere was solemn and cold.

He stood before a door and knocked.

A man's cold voice came from inside: “Come in.”

Zhu Mingxuan pushed the door open; following his gaze, Song Jinhua saw the back of a richly dressed man.

The man did not turn around; his back to the door was unlike the usual dreams that matched reality.

No one would turn their back without reacting when someone entered a room.

It felt as if her mind could not conjure or refused to reveal the true face of this man, so it appeared only in this form before her.

Soon, the man spoke from behind: “How is the matter progressing?”

Zhu Mingxuan showed great respect, bowing slightly. “Everything is going according to plan, very smoothly.”

The man nodded. “Good. Then we can proceed to the next step.”

When Zhu Mingxuan looked up, his eyes held a dark color that felt strange to Song Jinhua.

Before she could wonder what the next step was, the man quickly added: “Less than seven days until the wedding. This matter must be expedited. When do you plan to bring her here?”

Song Jinhua was shocked, staring in disbelief as Zhu Mingxuan’s lips curled into a smile of impatience. “Naturally, we have awaited this day for a long time. How about tomorrow? After you have enjoyed yourself, I will take the opportunity to annul the engagement.”