“Qing’er…”
Leng Mingye frowned slightly at his sister’s attitude towards his beloved wife, feeling displeased. He knew his woman wasn’t the type to pick fights—unless provoked, she wouldn’t resort to violence.
Just moments ago, he had witnessed his sister relentlessly pressuring his wife and had seen the anger in her eyes, even noticing the ring with hidden mechanisms on her wrist.
Though equally exasperated, he saw Madam Nangong repeatedly apologizing to him. With a cold and dissatisfied glance at her, he turned to his father, then hurried after his daughter.
“My lord, it’s all my fault for failing to discipline Fang’er properly, leading to such an incident…”
Madam Nangong could clearly sense the anger in Leng Mingye’s eyes. Despite her helplessness, she stepped forward and bowed her head in apology to her husband.
“You… really. Mingye and Qing’er are only here for a few days to acknowledge their ancestry. And you… Thankfully, nothing serious happened. If it had, don’t blame me for not warning you. You must understand—not only does Mingye treasure her like a jewel, but even Fengye Wang and Feng Liusu adore her dearly. Even the renowned Prince Ning and His Majesty dote on Princess Qingya. You… tell Fang’er to return to her in-laws for now, lest she stir up unnecessary trouble for our household.”
Though frustrated with his wife, Nangong Haotian couldn’t help but reprimand her before turning away. Yet, at the same time, he found himself growing increasingly satisfied with his daughter-in-law.
Meanwhile, Leng Mingye’s side was far from peaceful. Watching his beloved wife stride away, radiating cold fury, he quickly followed with an ingratiating smile, reaching out to grab her hand.
“Qing’er, don’t be like this, Qing…”
He knew she was furious. Given her temperament, if she had been wronged like this, she would have retaliated tenfold. But she hadn’t—all because of him, because they were his family. She had swallowed her pride for his sake.
As he held her hand, he noticed her turning her head away, her expression icy, lips tightly pressed, brows furrowed. Surprised, he looked down.
In her palm were several black thorns—mere flower prickles, but they sent a jolt of anger through him.
“Did you get these when you fought with her earlier?”
Seeing her turn away, lips sealed, her face a mix of displeasure and grievance, Leng Mingye asked coolly. Yet, his hands were gentle as he carefully plucked the thorns from her palm. Though they were just tiny prickles, his heart ached for her.
“Alright, let’s go back and apply some medicine.”
After meticulously removing every thorn and ensuring none remained embedded in her delicate skin, he leaned in, blowing softly on her palm before tenderly taking her other hand to lead her back to their room.
“No need. They’re just small thorns. Weren’t you busy? Go ahead. I’d like to walk alone.”
The way he treated her like fragile paper, his cautious and tender movements, melted the resentment in Wanqing’s heart. She withdrew her hand calmly, recalling his earlier conversation with his father about being occupied. With that, she turned to walk away.
“I’m done now. All I want is to stay with you and tend to your wounds. Come on, don’t be angry. Though it’s still early, don’t you want your man to perform well in front of Uncle tonight?”
Though he knew such minor injuries meant little to her, seeing her aggrieved expression tugged at his heart. He gently turned her shoulders, gazing at her pleadingly, his arm encircling her waist as he teased.
“Then you should rest in the room. I’m not tired.”
His words reminded her of his plans with her uncle to infiltrate the palace that night, easing her anger considerably. She continued walking.
“Wait, Qing’er, don’t be mad, alright? I know it’s my fault you were wronged, but I promise—I swear—I’ll never let you suffer even the slightest grievance again, okay? Come, let’s go back and tend to your hand. My wife’s delicate skin must remain flawless.”
Seeing her still upset, Leng Mingye coaxed her, even raising his hand in a playful vow. When she glanced around nervously and grabbed his hand, he smirked smugly.
“Enough sweet talk. At least you have some conscience, knowing it’s because of you.”
Hearing such rare words from him after their marriage warmed her heart, though she noticed Chunlan stifling laughter nearby. Blushing slightly, she shot him a look.
“Of course. I’m your husband—how could I not understand your thoughts and grievances? Chunlan, go laugh somewhere else. Watching you struggle to hold it in is painful. Come, let’s return to our room. Your master will tend to your wounds.”
Relieved to see her expression soften, Leng Mingye teased Chunlan, who quickly excused herself with a flushed face. Taking his wife’s hand, he led her back.
Back in their room, Wanqing dismissed the minor prickles as trivial, but her husband meticulously cleaned and treated her hand regardless.
Once he finished, she stood. “Alright, rest now. Uncle went out to gather information. I’ll go check on Mother.”
“Don’t. Qing’er, your mother is resting. Now that we’re finally alone, can’t you… Qing’er, I’ve missed you these days…”
As she tried to leave, he pulled her into an embrace, his voice pleading. Though they had been intimate the previous night, the thought of being separated for his mission later made him cling to her, his handsome face drawing closer.
“Stop fooling around. I’m serious. You should rest. You’re…”
His daytime advances flustered her, her cheeks burning. She pushed at him halfheartedly, but his hands wandered insistently.
“Isn’t this serious too? Qing’er, since marrying you, I’ve discovered how wonderful you truly are…”
Ignoring her protests, he captured her lips, sweeping her toward the bed.
Wanqing sighed inwardly. Since their marriage, he had been insatiable—even in broad daylight. Though she wanted to refuse, knowing he had important tasks ahead, she soon succumbed to his relentless passion, losing herself in his embrace.
They fell asleep entwined.
When Wanqing awoke, the sun was setting, and the bed beside her was empty.
“That insatiable rogue. Such indulgence is truly exhausting.”
Rubbing her sore lower back, she dressed, torn between lingering pleasure and exasperation.
Just as she and Chunlan stepped into the courtyard, heading toward her mother’s quarters, a voice halted her.
“Mu Wanqing, it was just a friendly spar between women. I accidentally hurt you, yet you tattled to your man, making Mingye drug me. How vicious.”
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