When he returned, he felt that something had changed, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what. Was it her sulking? Detachment? Indifference? Distance? Had their feelings changed? ...No, no, no, none of that was it.

After musing on it for a while, he understood: she had lost her penchant for acting playfully coy.

She no longer acted spoiled. She didn’t even dare to anymore.

She had reverted to the Yan Xixi she was at the beginning.

Her laughter and curses, her reckless abandon, her countless charming expressions, her captivating allure... all those displays of utter willfulness that came from being deeply cherished... were gone.

She could handle anything on her own now—studying, chores, work, going out. She could manage everything herself. She didn’t need his help anymore, not even to pour a cup of tea.

She could handle it herself. After all, anyone with hands and feet could manage things on their own.

Wasn’t this what I always wished for?

Yet, he felt an inexplicable sense of loss, as though something fundamental had been severed.

He took her hand, and she entwined her fingers with his.

A gentleness still lingered, albeit timidly.

He reached out and looped his arm around her shoulder, his voice unusually gentle, "Xixi, shall we ’read’?"

Before she could respond, he had already picked her up.

It was their favorite game from before.

The desk, the chair, the opened book... She sat in his lap. In the past, she would always giggle. It was a silent understanding, an intimate joy shared only between lovers. But today, she felt uneasy.

How can I sit like this in a man’s arms?

It reminded her of what men supposedly favored most: ’red sleeves adding fragrance’ while reading... Holding a book in one hand and a beauty in their arms as they read at night... The reading was a pretense; the intimacy was the true goal...

She recalled reading a poem by Su Dongpo. It depicted an eighteen-year-old bride and an eighty-year-old groom, his white hair a stark contrast to her red makeup. In their marriage bed, like paired mandarin ducks, "a pear blossom tree crushes the begonia."

She hadn’t understood its meaning when she was younger, but she did now. It was about an eighty-year-old man marrying an eighteen-year-old concubine.

Think about it: ’a pear blossom tree crushing the begonia’—an old man with white hair on top of a young girl in her bridal reds—

It’s terrifying, utterly repulsive.

So, Su Dongpo wrote erotica!

If it were today, that fellow would have been thoroughly censored long ago.

Just because he was an ancient, he got lucky and escaped.

Yan Xixi fumed. One day, I’ll definitely report Su Dongpo to the Anti-Pornography and Illegal Publications Office! I absolutely can’t let such poetry poison the pure youth of our nation!

Yet, at this very moment, Wan Donglin was holding her just like that—

It’s too intimate.

She suddenly found this intimacy terrifying—it felt as if she were being swept away, with no restraints at all... Even if he wasn’t a white-haired old ’pear blossom tree,’ she couldn’t do this. Unless there was extreme closeness, profound mutual affection, it was simply impossible.

When he held her like that, she felt deeply embarrassed. She felt shy and ashamed, wishing she could disappear.

Suddenly, she couldn’t bear it any longer, let alone derive any pleasure from it.

He saw the flicker of panic in her eyes. She quickly scrambled off his lap, her expression slightly unsettled. "I’m sorry..." she murmured, her voice low.

He saw her unease quite clearly.

He was eager to make amends, a conciliatory air about him. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

When she finally fell asleep in his arms, exhausted, he held her gently. Only then did he truly look at her. Even in sleep, her brow was slightly furrowed, her expression far from relaxed, as if she were tense even in her dreams. He could only imagine what fears and anxieties she must have endured over the past two months.