Recklessly Breaking a Delicate Branch - Chapter 21

On the newly made, clean wooden bed, the man’s large, warm hand pressed against Jiang Wanshu. Startled, the girl remained still, fixing her posture in a shy trance, unable to meet the man’s eyes.

It was the dead of an early autumn night; the sky was dark. She had carefully placed the fire-starter on the other side. In the silence of the early morning hours, the room was so quiet that one could hear a needle drop.

Specifically, the man’s breathing was heavy and deep. His voice broke the darkness, rasping and languid: “Does your stomach hurt?”

Having spotted her fumbling behind the cupboard earlier, Zhou Yan knew her menses had arrived. He was a normal man; he knew that a woman’s cycle came once a month and lasted for several days.

He had no one by his side in the past, save for the elder sister who had saved him during his time of peril and whom he trusted deeply. He had heard her say that her stomach would ache when her time came. Being young and curious back then, he had asked why it hurt and how to alleviate the pain.

After so many years, he had forgotten most things, but his sister’s words echoed back to him in this dim night.

“When the girls on the grasslands have pains during their cycle, they hold a warm brazier to their bellies to soothe it.” His sister’s advice rang in his ears the moment he saw Jiang Wanshu in discomfort, leading to this very scene.

However, Jiang Wanshu did not seem appreciative; she quickly pulled a few centimeters away from him.

Zhou Yan’s recent behavior had taught her that he no longer reacted with increased aggression when she pushed him away; instead, she had grown bolder in his presence. But this time, Zhou Yan did not indulge her. He rose, took a key from under the pillow, opened the door, and walked out.

Jiang Wanshu was left alone with messy hair, painfully pondering the man’s mood.

He walked fast, but the pain in her abdomen was faster. Clutching her stomach, she curled her body in weakness. It felt as if insects were boring into her flesh. Fine beads of sweat dropped from her forehead. Just as she lost the energy to worry about Zhou Yan’s emotions, the wooden door clicked open again under the lonely light of the full moon.

In the faint moonlight, Jiang Wanshu looked up to see the man entering. The light spilled across his back, and as it hit the angles of his handsome face, he appeared sharp, aggressive, and strikingly beautiful—a lethal allure born of softened foreign genes.

On the sturdy bed, Jiang Wanshu stared blankly as Zhou Yan approached unhurriedly. He reached out an arm and pulled her into his embrace. The bed was large enough for two to lie comfortably. Jiang Wanshu was tossed onto the mattress, her hair flying before settling. Then, she felt his large hand return to her stomach.

Unlike the heavy pressure from before, he was gentle now, kneading her belly as if working soft white dough.

“I’ve heard some women suffer during their cycle. I saw you secretly sewing your moon-belts two days ago, so I went to seek advice. Yesterday, I managed to get some herbs used by the Central Plains folk to relieve stomach pain. They say if you wrap them in a cloth bag and press it warmly against the belly, it helps the discomfort.”

As he spoke, his hand—holding the warm cloth bag—slowly moved across her. He watched the expression on her face—a mix of awkwardness and a refusal to pull away.

In truth, Jiang Wanshu felt the warmth radiating from his hand into her belly. Gradually, the pain subsided. Her eyes widened in shock. Human nature seeks comfort; even though she loathed Zhou Yan’s touch, she couldn’t bring herself to push him away. Under the midnight moon, the two squeezed under a single brocade quilt, their bodies pressed together.

For the next few nights, with Zhou Yan’s help, Jiang Wanshu passed her cycle pain-free.

Such an increasingly gentle offensive was becoming hard for her to withstand. Finally, a few days later, she found her opportunity.

The sun was bright today—the most pleasant day since the onset of winter. Light spilled through the clouds onto the sprouting vegetable garden. The man stood on the soil, eyes downcast, his expression solemn.

“I need to return to the grasslands for a bit. If all goes well, excluding the time for business, I should be back in two days of continuous travel.”

Jiang Wanshu knew the proverb: Know yourself and know your enemy, and you will never be defeated. She needed to know if his timeline was secure for her plans. More importantly, she needed to know if this task would truly keep him occupied for two days. If not, what if he discovered her escape halfway through?

“Are you going back alone?” she asked.

To hide her intent, she approached the topic indirectly, though the essence remained the same. She pricked up her ears, waiting for his answer.

Zhou Yan suspected nothing. Instead, he believed his meticulous care had finally sparked affection in her. Under the sunlight, he flashed his first smile of the morning, looking rather triumphant.

See? he thought. His methods were effective. In just half a month, Jiang Wanshu already seemed unable to let him go.

He raised an eyebrow, pride evident in his gaze. “Does Wanwan want to come with me?”

“That depends on what you are doing,” she asked playfully, while the abacus in her heart clicked rapidly. She could use the excuse of the chickens, ducks, and the garden—none of which could survive a day without care—to stay behind.

Zhou Yan fell for the trap. “Nothing major. Just returning to the grasslands to settle the matter of those envoys I killed, and to see my sister so she can introduce me to the Third Prince again.”

The latter part was a lie, meant to placate her. Jiang Wanshu ignored it, focusing on the first part. Recalling that this matter involved her, she frowned. “Is it very troublesome?”

“It’s fine. Their reputation on the grasslands was rotten to the core. Their whole family was tyrannical, making life miserable wherever they lived. The Old Khan might have kept them in the Royal Court out of necessity, but he won’t help them now that they’re gone.”

“They are like birds on a branch; throw one stone, and they scatter without a trace. No one will cry for them.”

Jiang Wanshu nodded thoughtfully. “Then I won’t go with you.”

The soft, melodic voice reached his ears. Zhou Yan reached out to stroke her long hair. “Why ask only to decide not to go?”

He reflexively assumed her questioning meant she wanted to accompany him. But it didn’t matter if she stayed. Most of what he told her was true, but there was one thing he kept secret.

Winter was arriving in October. She was already dressed in thick clothes. When he returned to the grasslands, the Palden Lhamo Festival (Fairies’ Festival) was only a few days away. Legend said it was the one day a year the Goddess Palden Lhamo could meet her lover—much like the Cowherd and Weaver Girl festival in the Central Plains. It was a day of great celebration for the grassland people.

According to his plan, he would return and bring her to the grasslands for a grand wedding the day before the festival. During the festival, young men and women would be out in groves. He wanted to give her the most magnificent wedding before that day, so every lad and lass on the grasslands would know he had married a beautiful Central Plains girl. Even if they didn’t settle there permanently, he wanted the people to respect her as much as they respected him.

His Agia (sister/beloved) deserved the best.

Thinking of this, his expression softened. He looked down at the girl who was blissfully unaware of the surprise awaiting her in a few days.

She looked up, appearing conflicted. “I just realized there are chickens and ducks to feed. If we both leave, won’t they starve?”

Her reasoning was sound. Zhou Yan nodded, not minding. He pulled out the house key and handed it to her. He was no longer worried she would run; he had used both the carrot and the stick, and surely he had scared her enough.

Jiang Wanshu took the key, staring at it in disbelief. She hadn’t expected Zhou Yan to actually take her words to heart. She had thought that, despite her hints, he would give the key to Musha and have him unlock the door at specific times.

For a moment, a strange feeling flickered in her heart. But she pushed it aside and accepted it firmly. “I will take good care of everything here,” she replied symbolically.

Zhou Yan smiled, his hand lingering on her dark hair with extreme tenderness.

“Silly girl, I don’t want you to overwork yourself. Those things can wait until I return. Just take care of yourself. If you get bored, you can go find Magura.”

As the key settled in her palm, her momentary guilt vanished. She gripped it tightly. Who cared about a fleeting emotion? She was now one giant step closer to her goal. Her hand trembled with excitement, and the man took it as a sign of affection, holding it back.

“You must wait for me to return.”

Zhou Yan’s expression turned serious, remembering what she had said by the candlelight a few days ago: “I believe love should be about trust. Look at a boy like Musha; he can leave Magura at home without worrying she will be gone when he returns.”

He had finally overcome his internal barriers to accommodate her and make her happy. He did not want their ending to be a mere illusion. If it was, he wouldn’t hesitate to turn cold again. A flash of sharpness crossed his eyes before being hidden behind a pleasant facade. He pinched her porcelain-white cheek as a sign of his reluctance to leave.

Jiang Wanshu felt a surge of loathing but kept her face neutral. She waved his hand away, her heart a whirlwind of emotions. She felt she was being “foolish”—previously, the mere thought of her escape being near made any touch from him physically nauseating, yet after being together for a while, she had returned to a state of begrudging tolerance. As long as he didn’t demand intimacy, she felt she could endure it.

She didn’t answer his final command, only nodding slightly.

Winter had begun; the morning sun was absent, and the sky was a gloomy grey, suggesting a coming storm. She looked up as Zhou Yan walked to his horse and mounted it with a single, effortless stride.

Turning the horse, the man’s face looked sharp and dominant. Sitting high in the saddle, he looked like a demon descended to punish the wicked—a presence full of overwhelming pressure.

“I’m leaving then,” Zhou Yan said in a low voice.

Jiang Wanshu waved out of habit. Zhou Yan turned his horse again and galloped away. From that moment on, Jiang Wanshu’s gaze shifted entirely away from the man. What followed was the first strike in her plan for escape.

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