Chapter 286 — Reunion

After seeing Wei Wan off, Wei Fan followed Dou Ming back to the upper courtyard of the Jining Marquisate, sullen and silent.

Dou Ming went straight into the inner chamber.

Wei Fan, however, stood in the hall for a long while before turning and heading to the study.

When Dou Ming came out after changing her clothes and did not see Wei Fan, she could not help asking in surprise, "Where is the Marquis?"

The servants in the room all trembled with fear and dared not make a sound. Zhu'er had no choice but to steel herself and step forward to inform Dou Ming of Wei Fan's whereabouts.

Dou Ming's face turned ashen. With a sharp crack, she hurled the teacup at her side to the floor.

For a moment, the inner chamber was dead silent.

Her fingertips trembling, Dou Ming ordered Zhu'er, "Have the maids set the meal!"

Zhu'er did not dare delay. She hastily assented and, together with the maids, laid out the evening meal on the large kang by the window in the inner chamber.

Dou Ming ate slowly, and did not set down her bowl until the first watch of the night.

But Wei Fan still did not appear.

Zhu'er, with practiced tact, said, "The Marquis took his evening meal in the study."

Dou Ming raised her head and glanced at her.

Her gaze was sharp as a blade's edge. "Have you nothing better to do? The Jining Marquisate's laundry is short-handed!"

Zhu'er's face went pale, and she murmured assent, not daring to say another word.

Dou Ming only felt more stifled. She washed up hastily and went to bed.

A young maid went to close the door.

Dou Ming flew into another temper. "Locking doors and shutting windows—what do I keep you night watchers for?"

The young maid was scolded for no reason she could fathom, unable to tell what she had done wrong.

Only then did Zhu'er finally understand.

The madam was waiting for the Marquis to return, yet was too proud to admit it.

She quickly ordered the young maid to reopen the door, and had bedding brought in to keep watch through the night in the inner chamber. Only then did Dou Ming's expression improve somewhat.

Zhu'er did not dare sleep. She kept her eyes open, waiting for Wei Fan to come back to the room.

But Wei Fan never came back.

Dou Ming tossed and turned in bed like a pancake on a griddle, unable to sleep.

Zhu'er, however, did not dare let Dou Ming discover that she was still awake. She lay rigid and motionless, not even daring to breathe loudly.

Mistress and servant watched thus as the sky gradually paled toward dawn.

At last, the bed-curtains fell quiet.

Zhu'er let out a breath of relief.

.

But from within the curtains came a faint, muffled weeping, interspersed with Dou Ming's curses: "If you have any backbone, then don't come to me for the appointment letter for the Vice Commander of the Five Cities Garrison at Yancheng…"

Half a capital city away from the Jining Marquisate, in the Yizhi Hall of the Yingzhenguo Estate, Dou Yan awoke.

She opened her eyes and saw Song Yan's sleeping face.

His skin was lustrous as fine jade, his black hair falling softly on the crimson silk pillow embroidered with twin lotus blossoms—an indescribable gentleness and elegance.

Such a youth, fresh as clear wind and morning dew, yet in the bedchamber possessed a ruggedness and abandon wholly at odds with his appearance.

At the thought, Dou Yan's face burned hot. The exquisite splendor of the previous night seemed to course once more through her limbs, leaving her body somewhat weak. Only then did she realize she was held in Song Yan's arms. Their limbs were tangled together, so that half her body had gone numb.

She could not help but let out a soft moan.

Beside her ear rose Song Yan's clear, resonant voice: "You're awake!"

"Mm!" Dou Yan answered, kneading her numb right shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Song Yan turned on his side and asked with concern.

"My body's gone numb!"

"Where does it feel numb?" Song Yan said. "Let me rub it for you."

Dou Yan was truly uncomfortable. She turned over, her back to Song Yan, exposing her left shoulder.

The silk quilt slipped away, revealing skin as delicate as if it might break at a breath, and the gracefully curved lines of her back.

The cold air rushed in all at once.

Dou Chi shuddered and hastily pulled the quilt up to her chin. Then, belatedly, it came back to her that she seemed to be lying there stark naked... The memories of the day before grew clearer and clearer.

The swollen fullness of Song Yan entering her body... the tingling numbness when he took her earlobe between his lips... the tender, lingering softness of his whispered words... all of it turned to hot breath against her face, making her cheeks burn hotter still. And so she never noticed how Song Yan froze for a moment when her snowy skin was revealed, nor how his eyes had darkened ever deeper. She felt only that Song's hands were very gentle, deft and strong, pressing her shoulders with just the right weight, so comfortable she nearly cried out—and so comfortable that Dou Yan, who had hardly slept a wink all night, was overcome by a heavy drowsiness.

Just as she was about to fall asleep, Song's hands slipped from her shoulders down to the peach-soft swell of her breasts...

Dou Chi gave a start and came fully awake.

"Don't!" She tried with some difficulty to push his hand away. "I'm a little tired..." But he took the chance to pull her back into his arms from behind.

Dou Yan felt a flicker of unease.

Last night... the relentless, exquisite intensity had left her body somewhat parched, and Song, still unsatisfied, was like a master musician, coaxing her body back to warmth and moisture... That sense of being utterly mastered, her every emotion under his control, that extremity of being borne from life to death and from death back to life—she had never known anything like it. Yet even so, she could sense his inexperience from the force he occasionally failed to rein in, and so she could not bring herself to reproach him for his recklessness. And besides, this was only the second time they had shared a bed since their wedding... Even now, thinking back on it, she felt a lingering trace of dread.

Song Yan plainly did not see it that way.

He loved the dazed look in Dou Yan's eyes when she was lost in pleasure, loved the way she clung tightly to him in the throes of passion, loved her sweet, low moans...

Song Yan could not resist taking Dou Yan's round earlobe between his teeth. "Shouyuan, did you miss me?" His hand traced downward along the exquisite, mountain-and-valley curves of her body. "I missed you terribly... The bed in the duty room is narrow and hard, and the bedding always carries a musty smell that no amount of sunning will drive out... I love the fragrance of your skin, faint and delicate—jasmine, and something like a hosta flower... and also..." His voice dropped low, and his hand deftly found the little red bean hidden in her flower's heart, rolling and kneading it now hard, now soft, "like layered ranges of green hills... it makes a man unable to keep from wondering what lies at the end of the mountain path..."

With a boom, Dou Yan felt herself catch fire from head to toe.

No wonder he always campaigned without cease.

"Song Yantang, you had better hold your tongue!" She felt sure she must look like a shrimp dropped into a pan of hot oil, red all over.

Song Yan looked at her flustered, mortified expression and felt his heart brim with delight. He laughed softly at her ear. "Shouyuan, you don't know—every time I touch you there, your whole body trembles... Even there, no exception..."

Was this the poised and dignified Song Yan?

Was this the cold and aloof Song Yan?

Who on earth would say such things aloud?

"You, you..." Dou Yan could not even find words.

Song Yan kissed her lips.

Soft as a feather.

Yet his body suddenly thrust into her from behind.

Dou Yan's eyes flew wide. Her cry of alarm was swallowed by a kiss that abruptly deepened.