Chapter 17

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Pei Muci seemed to have anticipated Qing Wu’s thoughts. Silently, he shifted two steps to the side and tossed a copper coin into the boy’s basket. The boy immediately fished out the coin from the woven basket, beaming with gratitude. “Thank you very much, young master!” From a distance, he had seen this young master standing against the wind, half-lifting his wide sleeves to shield the woman beside him, clearly someone who cared deeply for his lady. Sure enough, without any bargaining, he paid promptly. The boy, perceptive, handed the flower to Pei Muci, slung the basket over his arm, and hopped away in search of the next customer.

Qing Wu stood frozen for several seconds before coming to her senses. “Where did you get the money?” she asked. With gifts bought and flowers given, surely he hadn’t sold the things she had given him? “Zhi Xue left it to me after buying food,” Pei Muci replied leisurely, trimming off the excess stem and plucking the outer petals that easily fell, clutching them in his palm.

Holding the stem just the right length, making sure there were no thorns to prick, he lifted the flower and waited. Qing Wu turned her head slightly, lifting her eyelids to catch a glimpse of his face. Moonlight draped like a delicate white veil over Pei Muci’s tall figure, the misty glow cascading down and lengthening his shadow bit by bit. His black hair caught the moonlight as if dusted with a fine, elegant shimmer, tracing a silver outline around him.

Their eyes met for a fleeting moment before Qing Wu turned her back, revealing a smooth, jade-like neck. Pei Muci, adjusting his hairpin with one hand, steadily placed the flower on her. The cool touch brushed past her earlobe, and unexpectedly, Qing Wu felt a hint of shy restraint.

“Beautiful,” Pei Muci whispered.

At that moment, a few children with windmills ran past them, their already low voices blending into the chaotic laughter. The wind at the alley’s mouth swept away the unusual tone from his words. Qing Wu, having no siblings and unfamiliar with the joy of children’s play, stepped aside to avoid them and hid slightly behind Pei Muci.

Though separated by only the width of a fist, Pei Muci seemed accustomed to reaching out with one hand to feel her warmth. Qing Wu shook her head, trying to brush away the stray hair blocking her sight. The wind blew aimlessly, and after swallowing stray strands several times, she finally couldn’t help but gather the hair and pin it behind her ear with a black hairpin.

She clearly saw Pei Muci’s lips move slightly and asked, “What did you just say?”

Pei Muci lowered his gaze, half his face shadowed in the dim light, the faint cold gleam on his elegant robe making him appear exceptionally noble. He turned his face, seemingly smiling, but his voice was calm as he asked, “Are you hungry?”

“What do you want to eat?” Qing Wu countered.

She knew the money given to Zhi Xue could only buy food, and whatever was left for Pei Muci was probably not enough for two. Pei Muci glanced around briefly, as if settling on a choice, and moved his arm slightly. A faint cold breeze swept up the layers of her skirt, lifting the ethereal robe that shimmered like a blooming flower.

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The dark alley stretched endlessly, the biting wind howling mournfully from the dim depths like a lurking beast with three heads and six arms, stirring an inexplicable unease deep down. Qing Wu’s fingers tightened as she grasped the hand that was about to slip away, “Let’s move further away; don’t stand at the alley’s entrance.”

Pei Muci casually glanced down the alley in her direction but paid it little mind, his eyes thoughtfully fixed on their intertwined hands. He was used to solitude, and this was the first time he waited for someone to accompany him.

Carriages and horses passed incessantly along the road, and shop entrances were crowded with layers of queuing customers, leaving little space for passersby. Some hawkers darted through quickly, inevitably bumping into pedestrians.

Pei Muci bent his arm slightly backward, shielding Qing Wu behind him. His broad shoulders blocked her view, creating a relatively comfortable space where she gleefully hooked her pinky finger around the jade belt cinching his narrow waist. Pei Muci’s mouth twitched, trying to relax his shoulders, but his back involuntarily arched slightly.

Following the shallow groove along his spine, Qing Wu slid her fingers through, deliberately or not, the knuckles pressing just against the hollow of his waist. Such a fine figure! Qing Wu pursed her lips, her eyes crescent-shaped with warmth, intently watching the subtle rise and fall at his nape.

So smooth.

So tempting to touch.

Or maybe to leave something there...

Though no wind blew, Pei Muci’s long black hair swayed slightly, a subtle curve, his voice tinged with an unspoken helplessness as he sighed, “Your Highness, not out here.”

“Then can we go back to the mansion?” Qing Wu’s eyes brightened. With that said, she didn’t insist on lingering outside.

Pei Muci smiled, reaching behind to grasp her hand, holding it firmly. He simply couldn’t let her go. Qing Wu, knowing she had been refused again, drooped her head like a wilting flower, trailing a few steps to stand beside him.

Pei Muci chuckled softly, his brows and eyes easing without his conscious awareness. The two weaved through the crowd for nearly a quarter of an hour before arriving at a slightly wider square.

The square dipped down two steps, surrounded by movable wooden stalls selling snacks. Customers brought small stools and sat in rows before each vendor. The shopkeepers tended to their own little plots, rarely calling out to attract business, making this area relatively quiet.

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Qing Wu stopped and asked Pei Muci, “Why are your hands so cold?”

They had hurriedly pushed through the throng; he took long strides, and she kept pace, palms already slick with fine sweat. Qing Wu wiped her palm with a handkerchief and then cupped Pei Muci’s hand with both of hers but couldn’t warm the chill seeping from his very bones.

It was like holding an ice block from a cellar in the dead of winter—piercingly cold.

Like the slime left by a venomous snake climbing the vines, slowly eroding her own warmth.

Before she could shiver, Pei Muci curled his fingertips, intending to withdraw his hand.

Unexpectedly, Qing Wu was quicker, bringing his hand to her lips and softly exhaling upon it. The faint breath passed through his fingers like a drop of ink falling into clear water, spreading unseen layers of emotion within Pei Muci’s heart.

He arched the back of his hand slightly but did not let go, instead pulling her toward a small stall. The vendor crouched, tidying molds, while Pei Muci leaned forward, seriously selecting pastries.

The steamers on the cart glowed a translucent amber, like the edges of burnt parchment, lit from within by candlelight, making the floral cakes inside irresistibly enticing.

Pei Muci seemed unaccustomed to such moments, his face showing a rare awkwardness, quite endearing.

The lantern hung just above his head, casting an invisible halo that blurred his sharp features but illuminated each eyelash clearly.

Qing Wu couldn’t resist the urge to reach out and brush his curled lashes.

Before she could touch them, Pei Muci suddenly turned, “Which one do you want?”

Startled, Qing Wu withdrew her hand awkwardly, feigning indifference but unable to hide her nervousness. “Why eat this? I’ll take you somewhere better.”

There were plenty of exquisite tea houses and snack shops, far more refined than here. Having gone out with such effort, she wanted to enjoy herself at a grand restaurant.

More importantly, she had yet to see Pei Muci drunk.

Unfortunately, Pei Muci never agreed to her wishes. He shifted his gaze back to the few remaining lotus root jade cakes, nodding thoughtfully, “Wrap this up.”

The vendor agreed and immediately put down his work, wiping his hands on a rough apron before deftly wrapping the cakes in a square package about the size of a fist, using greaseproof paper.

Pei Muci placed the money into a small box at the cart’s front, pulled a delicate cord hanging from a horizontal bar, and expertly sealed the package, finishing with a symmetrical butterfly knot, carrying it in his hand.

Qing Wu held her breath at the sight.

That night in her dream, the man who looked exactly like Pei Muci had also lifted the bed curtain with such ease and tied it neatly aside.