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“Trying to mask the taste, huh?” Jiang Xinyue feigned a lack of understanding, pursing her lips as she tasted the lingering wine on them. Her body softened. “This wine is really spicy.”

Her lips, moistened by the liquid, shimmered with a glossy sheen in the flickering candlelight, yet she remained unaware and looked innocently at Pei San.

The hand that had been holding her jaw slowly moved upward, the pad of his thumb brushing her lips.

His touch was hardly delicate; his thumb bore a thin callus, and when it scraped against her tender lips, the roughness was all the more pronounced. It felt as if the velvet petals of a flower completely enveloped his finger, and a little further, he could even feel the white teeth and the moist traces of wine.

“What are you doing? Your hands are dirty!” Jiang Xinyue frowned, petulantly trying to brush his hand away.

But she couldn’t move it. Instead, as she spoke, her lips rubbed against the edge of his thumb, as if willingly entwining with it.

His square Adam’s apple moved up and down.

As Pei Yannian leaned in, the flickering candlelight landed on one broad, steady shoulder, deepening the color of his eyes. He found an excuse he barely believed himself: “Wiping the wine for you.”

“That’s not how you wipe wine.”

“Then how should I?”

Before she could respond, he bent down and pressed a kiss onto her lips.

Mmm, just as he imagined—soft and fragrant, though with a layer of wine flavor. The spicy sensation was intoxicating, drawing one deeper into surrender, even losing control.

Gradually, feeling this wasn’t enough, he sat down and pulled his young wife onto his lap, kissing along the path where the wine had flowed, slowly, bit by bit.

Jiang Xinyue felt his breath growing rapid and hot against her, filled with urgency. The strong grassy scent engulfed her completely, wrapping her in an impenetrable veil.

Instinctively, she wanted to push him away, but her arms were restrained like iron bands—there was no resisting.

From the man’s perspective, her slight struggles probably just added to the charm of their intimacy.

Perhaps because she was about to leave, she felt more impatient with these matters. Yet the heat flushed her cheeks, and her eyes glistened with a moist allure—an unmistakable, dazzling seductiveness.

Yet, paradoxically, her mind remained clear.

She began calculating when the drug might take effect. Would just a sip or two suffice? Surely it wouldn’t be enough to cause her to faint prematurely.

Since she wanted to leave, she definitely didn’t want anything more to do with Pei San. But if she deliberately made him drink now, wouldn’t that seem too contrived?

While pondering these thoughts, a sudden sharp pain flared on her lips, causing her face to scrunch in discomfort.

Seeing her truly hurt, the man leaned closer, tenderly kissing and soothing her lips, his gaze fixed on her. “Lost in thought?”

Jiang Xinyue wanted to scold him for biting recklessly but snapped back to clarity at his next words.

“You seem distracted today, like your mind is heavy. What are you thinking about?”

In that moment, she felt her hairs stand on end, as if the blood in her veins had frozen and her breath slowed. Yet her heart pounded wildly, loud enough to be heard in the quiet room.

Pei Yannian lowered his head without emotion, pressing near her chest to listen to her heartbeat, then looked up at her. “Your heart’s racing too? Done something naughty?”

His newly grown stubble grazed her delicate skin; the gesture carried an overly suggestive tone, yet neither felt the atmosphere was anything but innocent.

Pei Yannian was genuinely puzzled by his young wife’s secret thoughts. Her behavior that day was unusual, strange even. Especially since she was usually reserved about such matters and would never intentionally seduce him.

But today she did—and obediently allowed him to hold her and kiss her.

Usually, even when he kissed her in the morning when she first woke, she would furrow her brow, somewhat displeased.

Pei Yannian admitted he had a bit of a mischievous streak, enjoying these moments when he could kiss her and watch her porcelain-white cheeks puff up, wanting to protest but too shy, secretly pinching his arm.

At such times, Qiao Qiao was vivid and lively.

“Tell me, while I’m still in a good mood,” Pei Yannian said, pinching both her cheeks.

With handsome features, sharp and noble brows, and a strong, commanding physique, he carried an imposing aura without raising his voice.

Jiang Xinyue often wondered how such a man could be a mountain bandit.

Feeling flustered and guilty, she laughed nervously, her gaze flickering. “What bad things could I possibly do?”

Pei Yannian squinted at her and pinched her waist, chuckling. “You’ve done plenty of bad things. Don’t you remember?”

Jiang Xinyue did, indeed.

When she came back with Pei Yannian, knowing he was a black-hearted bandit, she feared he might get rid of her at any moment. To survive, she needed to prove her usefulness—so she started learning chores like cooking and laundry.

But she was hopeless at these tasks: nearly setting the kitchen ablaze when cooking, tearing clothes while washing and hiding them only to be found out. She had done very few things properly.

Pei Yannian never hit or scolded her, but his stern silence was already intimidating.

Thinking of this, she stood up from him, nervously babbling, “I always wanted to prepare a surprise for you, but I messed it up from the start. When I saw you punish Liu Erniu, I was afraid you’d treat me the same.”

“I’ve never bullied you,” Pei Yannian said, looking at the empty space in his arms with slight disappointment.

Jiang Xinyue didn’t think much and turned to retort, “Have you never bullied me?”

Both were momentarily stunned.

Pei Yannian pondered her words, trying to find where he’d gone wrong, but couldn’t think of much. After some hesitation, he asked, “In what way?”

He rarely had female companions around but had heard married deputy generals say that treating one’s wife well meant often staying in her room, avoiding the concubine’s quarters, and giving her face.

He had no concubines and stayed with Qiao Qiao every night—wasn’t that enough?

Perhaps vexed, he felt his head spin slightly and rubbed his temple. “Sorry, if I’ve done anything wrong, you can tell me.”

Jiang Xinyue bit her lip and hesitated before asking, “What if I say I just can’t live with you anymore and want a divorce?”

The room fell silent at her words, the atmosphere heavy.

“We don’t do divorces in our family,” Pei Yannian said, troubled by her seriousness, then added factually, “Only widows.”

Jiang Xinyue’s pupils contracted sharply in disbelief.

Pei Yannian didn’t realize how shocking his words sounded and asked sternly, “Aren’t we in love? If we truly love each other, how could we not get along?”

“Heh… heh.” Jiang Xinyue forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Damn this so-called love!

A wave of dizziness washed over him like a tide. Supporting himself on the table, irritation welled up. “Qiao Qiao, if there’s a problem, speak up. We’ll solve it together. Don’t say things like divorce lightly. Don’t you like Qingshui Town? If you don’t, once my business here is done, I’ll take you back to my estate to meet my family.”

He suspected his young wife might make him sick from anger. Propping himself up, he stood to take her hand.

But somehow, his vision blurred more and more. Before losing consciousness, he saw the young wife’s terrified face looking at him.

Jiang Xinyue was truly frightened. Looking at the man collapsed on the ground, then at the wine pot on the table, then back at him.

Could this drug be so effective?

Could Pei San have tricked her?

Covering her chest, she cautiously took two steps forward and gently pushed the man’s shoulder. “San Lang, San Lang…”

She called several times. When he didn’t respond, she finally exhaled deeply.

Her first thought was—

Run.

She had to escape immediately.

Who could stand being widowed? Whoever could, good for them—she refused.

Jiang Xinyue didn’t dare delay further and hurriedly jogged to the bedroom. She found the map she had hidden—a map she had painstakingly drawn after gathering information over time. Clutching it tightly, she headed outside.

But when leaving the room, she inexplicably glanced back at the small house where she had lived for months.

The simple layout of the living hall featured a carved wooden panel hanging in the center. In front stood a long table, with a square wooden table and four long chairs in the middle.

Weapons such as knives, bows, arrows, and halberds had once hung on the walls. The wear and bloodstains proved they were often used, showing Pei San was far from a “good man.”

But all the weapons had since been moved to the storage room opposite—after one night, when she had gotten up and screamed at the sight of a sword gleaming coldly in the dark.

Pei San had quickly come to comfort her and tidied everything away the next day.

The hall, now free of weapons, was adorned with additions like a withered green potted plant on the long table, a celadon teapot, and plain soft cushions that clashed with the overall rustic style—all neat and showing signs of life.

Jiang Ruo paused by the small door, moonlight faintly illuminating her porcelain face. Though she had lived in the countryside for some time, her exquisitely stunning face remained unchanged—fair, moist, and almost translucent at night, as if unreal.

Anyone could see how out of place she was in this setting, like a pearl fallen among ashes.

She turned her side and glanced toward the lit kitchen, then, compelled by some impulse, returned to the kitchen.

The man still lay quietly on the floor, his long limbs occupying much of the space. Even unconscious, his smooth physique betrayed his strength.

If he had been wary of her in the slightest, none of today’s events might have occurred.

Rarely feeling guilt, she tossed some clothes over him—considering it her last good deed.

“Pei San, I’m gone.”

Then, she groped in the dark to the stable, mounted a horse, and never looked back.