The quiet of dawn finally gave way.
The bamboo bedroom was warm and damp. Zhì Yuǎn had not slept. Throughout the entire night, he lay feeling the weight of Yù Qíng on top of him — her leg thrown over his thighs, her hand spread across his chest, pinning him to the bed as if even in sleep she needed to make sure he would not leave.
Through the gaps in the wall, a thin line of orange light began to appear on the horizon.
Zhì Yuǎn turned his face toward the light. He felt that the air was different. It was not only brightness. It was something denser, hotter. Something that pulled his attention outward.
He synchronized his breathing with the moment the first ray of sunlight cut across the old wooden wall. He drew the air slowly.
The heat entered through his throat like hot water. It descended straight into his chest, spreading through the channels he had forced open during the night. The pain was immediate and strong — as if something were stretching the internal walls of his body. The muscles in his arms and chest trembled. The sweat covering his skin evaporated quickly against the mattress.
He clenched his jaw and continued pulling, guiding that heat toward the center of his chest.
Yù Qíng woke with the movement. She blinked, still drowsy, and felt the heat radiating from her husband's skin. Her hand slid across his abdomen, worried.
"You're burning…" she murmured, voice hoarse.
Zhì Yuǎn exhaled slowly, controlling the tremor in his body.
"I tried to pull in the air from outside," he answered, breathless. "The morning sun came in strong. It felt like boiling water inside."
Yù Qíng did not pull away. Instead, she pressed her cheek against his warm shoulder, inhaling the scent of sweat. She stayed quiet for a few seconds until the iron bell from the main house rang far in the valley.
She immediately made a face and buried her face in her husband's chest.
"My father is already calling…" she grumbled. "The inspectors must have arrived."
Zhì Yuǎn passed his hand across her back.
"Let's go down, help him with the numbers, and come back soon," he said calmly. "The sooner we settle this, the faster we return here."
Yù Qíng let out a long sigh but did not argue. Her husband's practical tone always managed to calm her irritation.
---
They left the protection of the bamboo grove and entered the first street of the village. The closer they got to the center, the more eyes appeared. Some women washing clothes in the stream stopped what they were doing when they saw the two passing.
The sound of clothes beating against the stones diminished. Then stopped.
Yù Qíng felt the stares immediately. She gripped Zhì Yuǎn's arm tighter, her shoulders hunching slightly. The whispers came right after, low but clear enough for her to hear.
"…disappeared into the woods again…"
"…they don't even seem properly married…"
"…the father adopted him, and now…"
Her nails dug into the sleeve of Zhì Yuǎn's tunic. Her jaw locked. She turned her face to the opposite side of the women, as if she could ignore the weight of those stares on her back. The discomfort was old, but it never stopped hurting. It was as if the entire village looked at her and saw something wrong — something dirty — when they saw the two of them together.
Zhì Yuǎn felt the change in her. He stopped walking in the middle of the street. Without saying a word, he freed his arm from her grip and placed his hand on Yù Qíng's waist, pulling her body against his side. He positioned her on the inside, protecting her with his own body while turning his back to the washerwomen.
"Let them talk," he said quietly, near her head. "It changes nothing between us."
Yù Qíng pressed her face against his tunic for a few seconds, breathing in his scent. Only after feeling the warmth of his hand on her waist did she manage to relax a little. They resumed walking.
---
When they arrived at the main house, the courtyard was full of carts and people. A fat imperial inspector, dressed in purple silk, sat atop his horse shouting orders and threatening to demand more sacks of coal because of "moisture."
Yù Qíng stopped at the edge of the courtyard and hid behind Zhì Yuǎn's broad back, gripping his tunic with both hands.
Zhì Yuǎn walked close to the inspector's horse. The animal neighed and backed away, bothered by the heat radiating from his body. The inspector had to lower the perfumed stick he used to cover his nose.
Zhì Yuǎn pointed at the sacks.
"If there was real moisture, the bottom of the sacks would be dark," he said, voice flat. "The jute is dry. And this cart is already carrying too much weight. If you add five more sacks, the axle will break on the road."
The inspector turned red with anger and raised his bamboo rod, ready to order the guards to beat him. But before he could speak, the wood of the cart's rear axle creaked loudly, as if confirming Zhì Yuǎn's words.
The inspector froze.
After a few seconds of awkward silence, he lowered the rod and shouted for the guards to climb onto the carts and leave. In less than five minutes, the entire convoy had left the courtyard.
Yù Chéng let out a sigh of relief and handed the stamped parchment to Zhì Yuǎn.
---
During lunch, Yù Méi spoke without filter:
"Lihua stopped me at the stream today. She asked if it wasn't strange that my sister is married to the boy our father adopted. She said people always comment when you two disappear."
Silence fell over the table.
Yù Qíng stopped eating. Her appetite vanished in the same instant. She lowered her eyes to the bowl, her shoulders slowly hunching. Yù Méi's words had opened something she tried to keep closed. It was the same feeling she had when passing the washerwomen — the sensation that everyone saw their relationship as something wrong, something that should not exist.
Her knuckles turned white around the chopsticks.
Zhì Yuǎn did not say anything immediately. He simply extended his hand under the table and placed his warm palm on her thigh, squeezing firmly. After a few seconds, he looked at Yù Méi and spoke in a calm voice:
"Tell her that if her husband knew how to fix the roof of the house instead of getting drunk in the square, she wouldn't have time to mind other people's business."
Yù Méi laughed loudly. The heavy atmosphere broke a little. Yù Qíng remained quiet, but the pressure of Zhì Yuǎn's hand on her thigh helped ease the tightness in her chest. She leaned her arm against his under the table, grateful for the silence he offered when she needed it most.
After lunch, Yù Méi insisted that Zhì Yuǎn play the new song. They went to the veranda. Yù Qíng sat pressed against him, head on his shoulder. Yù Méi sat on the floor in front.
When Zhì Yuǎn blew into the flute, the sound came out deep and dense, making the wooden floor vibrate. Yù Méi was impressed. Afterward, Zhì Yuǎn began correcting the accounts the girl had done wrong the previous day.
Yù Qíng stayed quiet for a while, watching. But the more Zhì Yuǎn explained things to Yù Méi, the more an uncomfortable feeling grew in her chest. Without warning, she turned on the bench and hugged her husband's right arm, pressing her body against his and pushing her breasts against the arm he used to hold the paper.
Zhì Yuǎn stopped speaking. He looked at her, understood the message, and put the paper away.
"That's enough for today," he said to Yù Méi. "We're going back."
Yù Qíng smiled, satisfied, and they said their goodbyes.
---
Clothes were removed slowly in the dark.
Zhì Yuǎn laid Yù Qíng on the bed and descended his mouth along her body without haste. He lingered on her neck, her breasts, her stomach, licking the sweat of the day. When he finally opened her thighs and licked between her legs, Yù Qíng grabbed the sheets, her hips moving against his mouth.
He rose after a while and entered her. The rhythm was heavy from the start. Each thrust made the straw mattress creak softly. The sweat of both mixed in the hot air of the cabin.
Yù Qíng came for the first time with her legs squeezing tightly around his waist, her entire body trembling. But Zhì Yuǎn did not stop. He continued thrusting, changing the angle, holding her hips down while she was still sensitive. Yù Qíng whimpered, nails digging into his back.
He did not slow down. He kept fucking her with steady force, lasting a long time. Time passed. Yù Qíng came a second time, stronger than the first, her body thrashing beneath him as she scratched her husband's back until it left red marks.
Even so, Zhì Yuǎn did not stop.
He continued. He changed the angle from time to time, sometimes slower, sometimes deeper, prolonging. Yù Qíng was already breathless, her body soft, but he still had not come. She held onto him, moaning hoarsely every time he went deep, until the third orgasm took her by surprise — weaker, longer, making her entire body tremble.
Only after that did Zhì Yuǎn finally slow his pace.
Yù Qíng was completely exhausted. Her body was soft, heavy, breathless. She could barely move her legs. When he finally stopped and lay on his back, she collapsed onto his chest, face buried in his neck, body still trembling lightly with the remnants of pleasure. She was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open.
Zhì Yuǎn lay in silence, feeling the heat that still burned in his chest.
The channels he had opened in the morning were still inflamed. He needed something to balance them.
He looked toward the gap in the wall. The moon was in the sky. He tried to pull in the cold night air, as he had done with the sun. But it was too weak. He could barely feel any difference.
He stopped.
He looked at Yù Qíng asleep on top of him. He remembered the moment she came — how her body had released a cold, dense moisture that calmed the heat wherever it touched his skin.
He understood.
The night air would not serve. But Yù Qíng's body would.
He passed his hand across her back and pulled her closer, deciding that the next night he would no longer waste time trying to draw in the moonlight.
He would use what came from her.