Exclusively for the Marchioness – CH 028

Chapter 28

The wisps of spring fragrance swirled within the gauze curtains, spreading their aroma.

Du Lingjing said softly, “Let’s leave this incense here tonight.”

She made her meaning clearer.

But he stood there motionless.

Du Lingjing did not know what he meant. Was it inappropriate, was the timing wrong, or did he simply not want to?

She could not figure it out. Unexpectedly, he spoke suddenly, his voice lower and hoarser than usual.

“I am going out for a walk.”

With that, the man turned and quickly left the room.

Before Du Lingjing could say anything, the room was suddenly silent, save for the incense she and the old woman had lit.

“…”

Du Lingjing was completely bewildered by the situation.

She could only sit down, confused. She could not focus on the ancient book, and the information tucked inside had already been found. She could only flip through a few pages, but the words were fleeting, not a single one resonating with her.

After what seemed like a quarter of an hour, Ying-Bi and Xiang-Yi, the maids serving in the main courtyard, hurried to the door carrying a box.

Du Lingjing looked over and saw a brand-new set of clothes and a complete set of jewelry. She was puzzled and heard the two maids say, “Madam, it was the Marquis who just gave the order.”

It was already late, and night had enveloped the entire mansion. Lights were lit under the eaves. Why had he suddenly given this order?

She had no choice but to put on the clothes as well.

It was a lilac-colored, embroidered, pavilion-and-tower-patterned jacket and a pale purple, twelve-panel skirt.

Du Lingjing had not worn such vibrant clothes in many years. The last time she remembered wearing something like this was seven or eight years ago, when her father was still alive.

Ying-Bi helped her change into the new clothes, and Xiang-Yi restyled her hair, adorning it with a brand-new set of pearl hair ornaments.

She vaguely understood.

Sure enough, after the two had finished dressing her, the Chief Steward Zong himself arrived, bowing and smiling at her.

“The Marquis invites Madam to a banquet at the Shushi Pavilion in the back garden.”

A banquet…

Du Lingjing wanted to laugh, but felt embarrassed in front of the Chief Steward. She nodded in agreement, rose, and went out.

A light drizzle mingled with the wind. Ying-Bi carried a lantern ahead, while Xiang-Yi held an umbrella for her.

However, after walking through the garden’s flowers and trees and climbing the steps to the Shushi Pavilion, the highest point of the Marquis’s Mansion, she found the banquet tables already set, but the Marquis himself had not arrived yet. She could only sit quietly and wait for him for a while.

The servants lit lamps in every corner of the hexagonal pavilion and surrounded it with long, tasseled curtains. The rain was kept out, with only the wind slipping in through the hem, swirling around.

The Marquis’s Mansion was quiet and pleasant. Du Lingjing leisurely observed it for a while, but when her gaze swept over the foot of the artificial hill, she noticed a clump of green bamboo. In this late autumn, only the bamboo remained verdant.

A bamboo grove…

Her thoughts paused.

But the next moment, familiar footsteps came from the other side of the artificial hill, accompanied by the rustling of the wind.

Chong-Ping himself led the way with a lantern. Du Lingjing turned to look and saw that the man had changed into a soft blue brocade robe with auspicious patterns, black boots, a dark stone pendant hanging from his narrow waist, and a dark jade crown in his hair.

His thick eyebrows appeared even more striking in the lamplight as he arrived late.

Du Lingjing: “…”

She almost laughed again; it was just dinner.

But the man had already taken the lamp from Chong-Ping, who withdrew, leaving only him and her in the high Shushi Pavilion, with the gentle breeze and rain outside the eaves.

“Please, My Lady.”

Du Lingjing sat down, and he sat down as well.

It was truly a formal banquet. He served her dishes and poured her a cup of wine. The wind made the long tassels hanging from the curtains flutter in the pavilion. He toasted her, and following the custom of not speaking while eating or sleeping, they ate quietly together.

This formality surprised Du Lingjing.

After the meal, the night deepened. The servants cleared away the dishes and brought cloaks for the two of them.

But the drizzle outside the pavilion grew heavier and more intense.

Du Lingjing rose and looked out. In the distance, the corner tower of the imperial city was visible, its bright lights illuminating the fine, silken night rain.

He whispered, “Tonight, does it not remind you of the day you married into the family?”

Du Lingjing was momentarily lost in thought; more than a month had passed since her marriage.

She nodded, and the man took a cloak and wrapped it around her.

“We will have countless nights like this again.”

Du Lingjing looked over, and the sound of the night watchman’s drum echoed from the streets outside the courtyard. He suddenly picked her up.

“Do not get wet in the rain.”

He whispered this to her, called for Chong-Ping to hold an umbrella, and carried her away from the drizzling Shushi Pavilion, heading back home.

Servants continuously lit the way ahead, then bowed and retreated as he carried her past.

Even when they reached the main house of the Marquis’s Mansion, Chong-Ping closed the door and retreated a distance.

The incense of acacia, lit by the matron in the evening, was now so strong it almost clung to the gauze curtains.

Du Lingjing took a couple of light breaths and felt a faint warmth rising within her.

He placed her on the couch, removed the cloak covering her, and pressed his forehead against hers. This time, he did not rush to kiss her but gently brushed his nose against hers.

His movements were very gentle. Du Lingjing’s heart quickened slightly at the touch of his nose. Only then did he kiss her lips like a butterfly, lingering for a few moments.

There was no forceful penetration, no conquest, just this gentle stilling like a small boat resting on calm waters.

Du Lingjing felt a slight warmth in her ears. He noticed, chuckled softly, and picked her up again, lifting the layers of gauze curtains to the bedside.

The night rain outside the window grew heavier, pattering on the eaves and then condensing into raindrops that rolled down.

The incense in the room was burning intensely.

He extinguished all the lamps in the room, leaving only one by the bed. Then he glanced back before bending down to loosen his own belt.

The low lamp by the bedside, its small flame highlighting his imposing figure, made him appear exceptionally tall.

At this moment, he removed his brocade robe and belt, casually draping them over the rosewood clothes rack. He sat with his back to the bed, removing his boots, his broad shoulders and back, clad only in a single garment, rising and falling like a range of mountains.

He took off his boots, then tossed his undershirt aside. Beneath his broad shoulders and narrow waist were numerous old scars, but his lean frame revealed defined muscles that sculpted downwards, disappearing into the waistband of his trousers.

The lingering scent of the old woman’s incense in the air intensified the heat emanating from Du Lingjing’s body.

She looked away, turning to herself, and began to loosen her sash.

But she had only loosened it halfway when her hand was grasped.

He had already finished and now leaned down before her. “Let me do it.”

Du Lingjing blinked, recognizing him.

These past few days, he had always paid attention to her sash, and he always made a habit of holding her close as they slept late at night.

At first, she was tense and unable to relax, but night after night, his hands became more skilled, and she lost her initial tension, letting him pull her undergarment off her shoulders.

As soon as the undergarment was removed, the dim, flickering light of the small bedside lamp only shone softly on the small bodice at her chest.

The bodice was soft and red, her skin fair, and the way her small clothes were supported by her undulating figure.

The man’s breath hitched.

The banana tree outside the window, transplanted from Jiangnan, was cared for daily. Even in the chilly autumn air of the capital, the banana tree remained lush and green, its branches and leaves stretching out.

Raindrops pattered from the eaves onto the broad leaves of the banana tree.

He lifted her and gently laid her under the brocade quilt.

Her heartbeat was like the raindrops pattering on the banana tree, quickening with the increasing intensity of the rain.

His gaze swept upwards, passing over her front and landing on her face. She instinctively turned her head slightly to avoid his gaze, and he, taking advantage of the moment, lowered his head and gently touched her ear.

A tingling sensation spread from his lips, and the next instant, he raised his hand, grasping the back of her leg.

His hand, as broad as his shoulder, held her entire leg firmly within his.

Outside the window, the night rain pattered down, then something seemed to suddenly tip over, making a whooshing sound.

The sound startled Du Lingjing, causing her to instinctively tense up.

The previous two times, it had been the same.

He had felt it too.

But this time, he did not stop.

He gently pinched the back of her leg with his fingertips, lightly kneading and rubbing in a circle, neither hurried nor slow.

It was a little itchy.

He lightly pressed a few more times, the thin calluses on his fingertips scraping against her skin, the ticklish sensation making her inexplicably weak.

She relaxed slightly, and the rain outside the window seemed to lessen a bit.

It sounded like a bird seeking shelter under a banana leaf; seeing the rain ease, it chirped twice.

Du Lingjing slowly inhaled and exhaled while he walked slowly forward to the side of the recessed valley.

His palms grew increasingly hot, so hot that Du Lingjing felt as if she were in the sweltering heat of summer, the oppressive humidity just before the rain began to fall.

Her breathing became heavier, and her back involuntarily tensed.

His breathing also became heavier, but he remained unhurried, his handsome eyes fixed on hers, his hands moving with practiced ease.

Du Lingjing blinked rapidly, fine mist welling in her eyes. The rain that had been about to fall in the sweltering valley, following his gesture, began to drip down in a few drops.

She could not help but purse her lips.

He chuckled softly.

Du Lingjing looked up at him, only to see his smile falter slightly. The next instant, a massive, scorching hot boulder descended from the sky, tearing through the air and landing squarely in the sweltering valley floor.

She involuntarily gasped, but this time he gave her no chance to hesitate.

Her spine tensed abruptly; an indescribable ache and burning heat, a feeling of being completely filled, surged through her like never before.

She could not help but open her mouth.

He seemed to be losing his composure as well; his breathing became slightly erratic, and he turned his head slightly, trying to suppress it.

The rain outside the window, after a brief respite, did not stop; instead, it intensified again.

The rain advanced and retreated, fine and persistent. He felt the same way.

Overburdened, Du Lingjing felt every pore on her body stretched open, trembling and drenched in sweat.

He knew himself and could only hold her gently, soothing her, guiding her, slowly pushing inward, letting her adapt to him.

But she could not bear it any longer, instinctively wanting to escape.

At this point, could he let her escape?

He simply entered her completely, then at a certain moment lifted her, pressing her close to him, making her fully accept him.

“Quan Quan…”

She sobbed softly.

The banana tree, born in the south, might not be able to withstand the northern winds.

That night, the north wind howled fiercely, and the banana tree swayed silently in the rain.

As the rain gradually stopped, Du Lingjing, exhausted and weary, was pulled into his arms and nestled against his shoulder.

Lu Shenru leaned back against the carved bedpost, letting her rest against him.

He kissed her flushed cheeks gently, his gaze softening as he looked at her exhausted, tender face with her eyes closed.

The rain outside ceased, but the wind picked up.

The small lamp beside the bed burned down to its last flame, a tiny flickering flame before going out.

No moon outside, no light in the room, the room dimly lit, suddenly reminding him of Mian Tower that year.

His thoughts drifted back to that year, to the days he spent recuperating in the upper floors of Mian Tower after his serious injuries.

The upper floors of Mian Tower back then were just as dimly lit.

Separated by a thin door, he silently recuperated in the dim light, while she sat quietly reading in the sunlight, occasionally venturing deeper into the library to search for remnants left by her grandfather.

For instance, in early summer, she unexpectedly found an old suona. She seemed to have learned to play it before, but no matter how she tried, she could not get it into tune.

Qiu-Lin said, “Girl, your flute playing sounds like a donkey pulling a cart!”

She quickly put it aside, embarrassed.

But she was unwilling to give up. She found a book on suona techniques somewhere and tried to play it several times, but she still could not get it right, and it remained out of tune.

He watched her stand by the window, sighing deeply.

He thought to himself, “If you cannot play it, do not force it.”

And she did not force it.

But by late summer, when his injury had healed halfway, she found an old letter from her grandfather to a friend near the suona.

She thought to herself that her grandfather had once lamented to a friend that although he had read many books in his life, he had not traveled much, much less crossed the Great Wall. A poem said, “Why should the suona lament the willows, for the spring breeze does not reach Yumen Pass?” He had neither crossed the pass nor heard the sound of the suona.

She could not find his friend’s signature, but the letter mentioned that learning a suona was the easiest thing to do. So he had one specially made outside the pass and sent it with the letter to Qingzhou as a gift for her grandfather.

She found the letter just days before the anniversary of her grandfather’s death.

She thought for a moment, then took out the suona again and asked Ruan Gong to find someone to repair it. If it could be repaired, she could play it at her grandfather’s grave another day.

However, there was no craftsman in Qingzhou who could repair this kind of flute. Ruan Gong asked three people in a row, but to no avail.

She thought that since her grandfather had accepted the suona as a gift, given his personality, he would most likely also have accepted a book on how to repair and play the reed instrument. Thinking this, she searched the library all night and actually found it.

But her hands were those of a bookmaker, not a skilled flute repairman. Just as she picked up the carving knife, she suddenly cut her finger.

A long, bloody gash appeared on her fingertip, and blood gushed out.

He took a deep breath in the back room and saw her long brows furrowed. Just then, her father arrived and quickly had someone bring medicine to stop the bleeding.

But the cut was too deep; ordinary hemostatic medicine could not stop it. He immediately sent Chong-Ping to the army for hemostatic medicine. Fortunately, the bleeding stopped after a short while.

The flute repair was off again. She shook her head and sighed as she looked at the flute. Two days later would be the anniversary of her grandfather’s death.

That night, he had Chong-Ping bring the suona to the back room. This reed instrument was different from the flutes of the Central Plains, but he had played it for many years on the frontier and, fortunately, knew a thing or two about it.

No one knew he was recuperating here, and it was not convenient to make any noise at the moment.

He could only use a clumsy method to quietly test the sound for her, find the key to the off-key notes, and begin to fix it.

When Chong-Ping woke up in the morning and saw him sitting there all night, he was greatly surprised.

“Master’s injury has not fully healed yet.”

He said it was fine, handing him the instrument. “Put it back where it was before she returns.”

He was not sleepy or tired, but he wondered what her expression would be when she came to Mian Tower in a quarter of an hour, carrying her book bag, and suddenly discovered that the flute that had injured her finger yesterday could be played overnight.

Would she still sigh?

He chuckled at the thought, leaning against the wall, watching her desk through the crack in the partition, waiting for her to come.

A quarter of an hour later, she indeed arrived, wearing a lilac dress. Her fingers were thickly bandaged like dumplings by Qiu-Lin. She moved awkwardly, saw the flute, sighed again, and then walked over.

His gaze was fixed on her, waiting for her to try playing a note.

But just as she took the suona in her hands, Ruan Gong suddenly came to report. Hearing the commotion outside and seeing the joy on Ruan Gong’s face, she could not help but ask.

“Is Third Brother back?”

Third Brother—he’d heard her mention him several times that summer. He’d assumed he was a cousin of hers who had gone to the mountains to recuperate in the spring, sending her letters occasionally.

Ruan Gong quickly confirmed it was Third Young Master. “Third Young Master brought gifts to visit Master and also to see you, Miss.”

He saw her smile widen, and Qiu-Lin, who had also come from outside, called to her.

“Miss, go see him quickly. Why did Third Young Master bring so many things for the Jiang family? Anyone who did not know better would think he’d come to our house to propose marriage.”

The Jiang family? Proposed marriage?

He paused, but through the crack in the window, he saw her face flush instantly upon hearing this.

He had not seen her like this all summer.

Never.

The next moment, she put down the flute he had just repaired, turned, and went downstairs.

“He’s been gone for four or five months. I wonder if he’s fully recovered?”

With her clothes fluttering, she left Mian Tower, hurrying towards the person who had just returned from the mountains…

The memory faded into the distance with the howling night wind outside.

Mian Tower was a thousand miles away, and the past was buried years ago.

None of it mattered anymore.

Lu Shenru turned to look at his wife in his arms, wrapped her in a brocade quilt, and brushed aside her soaked hair.

Let bygones be bygones.