Chapter 33: Garlic White Meat (Part 8)
Leng Yue couldn't remember what happened afterward. She only recalled the water temperature suddenly turning hot, then gradually cooling. By the time she caught her breath and regained her senses, she was already lying dry and comfortable on the soft bed.
The room was filled with a strong vinegar scent—whether it emanated from the vinegar basin on the small stove or seeped from her very bones, she couldn't tell.
It was that feeling again—like losing a fight yet being unbearably, ecstatically happy...
How mortifying...
The culprit held her in his arms as if nothing had happened, planting tender kisses with pity, as though the earlier storm had nothing to do with him.
"Xiao Yue..." Jing Yi gently kissed her still-damp eyelashes, his slightly deep voice carrying genuine remorse. "I'm sorry."
Leng Yue guessed he was apologizing for his brothel hopping.
After all, those were matters from before their marriage. Though it infuriated her, it wasn't her place to control what happened before they wed. What's done was done. If she ever caught him repeating such behavior, she'd settle both old and new scores together and punish him severely.
So his "I'm sorry" meant nothing to her.
Without opening her eyes, Leng Yue lazily shifted her body. "Say something nice to me."
"Hmm..." Jing Yi hesitated briefly. "I'm better at singing than speaking. Can I sing instead?"
She had never heard Jing Yi sing before, but his voice was delightful—especially when he spoke softly, it could make one's heart flutter and cheeks blush. No one else in the entire capital could compare. Surely his singing wouldn't be unpleasant.
"Sing."
Jing Yi cleared his throat seriously, moistened his vocal cords, then sang one line with perfect articulation and heartfelt emotion:
"Sharpen your scissors—whet your kitchen knives—"
"..."
Jing Yi took a solid punch to his taut stomach, nearly rolling off the bed.
Clutching his stomach where Leng Yue had elbowed him, Jing Yi looked at her iron-dark face with utter grievance. "Wasn't this your favorite street cry when you were little?"
Yes, he wasn't wrong about that.
For some inexplicable childhood obsession, she hadn't liked lively operas or soft melodies, but adored this terrifyingly loud street cry. Whenever it sounded outside the general's manor, she'd dash out to follow the vendor and listen to her heart's content.
But that was from her childhood—very early childhood, before she turned six. How could he still remember such an embarrassing detail so clearly...
Leng Yue lay stiffly with closed eyes, her face dark as she pretended to be dead. After rubbing his stomach, Jing Yi leaned closer again, adding nostalgically, "I even followed that vendor for several days to learn that cry while helping sharpen kitchen knives."
Leng Yue believed he'd truly do such a thing.
Anything she liked—no matter how bizarre or embarrassing—if he knew about it, he would always find a way to obtain it for her.Leng Yue inwardly felt that the shout just now had indeed been somewhat pleasant, but she still kept her eyes closed and face stern, ignoring him. Then she heard Jing Yi add with a hint of melancholy, "It's a pity I'm not cut out for sharpening knives. Every time I sharpen one, it gets chipped. The master gave me an artistic name: Little Chipper."
Caught off guard, Leng Yue couldn't maintain her stern expression and burst out laughing with a "pfft." She rolled her eyes in exasperation and muttered under her breath, "You lunatic..."
As she laughed, a soft, rain-like smile spread across Jing Yi's face. He reached out and gently stroked the corners of her eyes, curved from laughter. "My wife looks so beautiful when she smiles."
Her smile was beautiful?
It seemed like she had just witnessed the most breathtaking smile in a hellish room.
Remembering that person's smile, the mirth on Leng Yue's face faltered and dimmed slightly. Her phoenix eyes shifted slightly to look at Jing Yi, who was right in front of her, and she forced a casual tone as she asked, "More beautiful than Feng Si'er?"
Jing Yi frowned slightly, as if this were an extremely difficult question to answer.
He pondered for a moment.
In that brief moment, Leng Yue had wanted to interject with some other topic to brush aside this utterly foolish question ten times over, but each time she thought to speak, she held back. Finally, when Jing Yi finished his contemplation, he responded with a tone of utter bewilderment, "You think Feng Si'er is beautiful?"
Leng Yue was taken aback, replying with a hint of defeat, "I've never seen such a beautiful woman."
Jing Yi shook his head and sighed. "That fine mirror I specially picked for you—have you been using it upside down every day?"
Leng Yue was momentarily stunned, then her face flushed hot. Jing Yi earned another elbow jab to his stomach.
"I'm asking you... Feng Si'er said she's met me before. Why don't I remember it at all?"
Leng Yue struggled to keep her enticingly flushed face stern, like a shy flower about to bloom, which held a unique charm. Jing Yi found himself utterly unwilling to answer her question properly.
Besides, in Jing Yi's view, this question wasn't even as valuable as deciding what to eat tonight.
So, instead of answering, he gently kissed her face until it flushed even redder.
Only when Leng Yue gripped his neck with both hands did Jing Yi obediently squeeze out a reply, "She's seen you, but you haven't seen her..."
Leng Yue released her grip. "Tell me, when did she see me?"
Rubbing his nearly-strangled neck with a sulky expression, Jing Yi replied absentmindedly, "She's seen you all your life, from childhood till now."
All her life?
If someone had seen her throughout her life, how could she have never seen this person?
"If you keep spouting nonsense, you'll be spending the holiday in the stables with Cheng Xun tonight."
Jing Yi believed that if Leng Yue said it, she meant it.
So, he sighed silently, got up, climbed out of bed, dragged a chest from the corner to the bedside, and opened it. "Here's the evidence."
Leng Yue threw on some clothes and got up, glancing into the chest.
She recognized the contents—they were the scrolls she had moved from the chest in Jing Yi's study to make room for Zhang Chong. Originally, the chest Zhang Chong had lain in was sent away as evidence after the case was closed, so Jing Yi had temporarily transferred these scrolls into this chest and hadn't had time to return them to the study.
If Leng Yue remembered correctly, Uncle Qi had said that the items inside were all Jing Yi's cherished possessions.Leng Yue had always assumed the items Jing Yi treasured enough to lock away in a chest were masterpieces by renowned artists she had personally carried into his room. Having no interest in such works—unable to appreciate them and fearing she might damage them, causing him distress—she had never unrolled a single scroll.
What kind of evidence could these be?
Casually picking one up, she untied the carefully fastened dark smoke-colored silk ribbon and unrolled it. A single glance left her stunned.
She unrolled another, then another, and another...
Wearing a smile of vindicated innocence, Jing Yi watched as Leng Yue’s face flushed crimson while she rapidly unrolled and examined each painting. He even asked with genuine seriousness, "Do I still need to spend the festival with Cheng Xun?"
Of course not.
Just as Jing Yi had said, these scrolls were his evidence—every word true, irrefutable proof.
The entire chest was filled with paintings, all depicting the same subject:
Her.
From her appearance at three or four years old to the present day, every stage of her life rendered in meticulous detail, vivid and lifelike.
"When... when did you paint these?"
Jing Yi answered truthfully, "Whenever I missed you."
Watching, Jing Yi saw Leng Yue’s face redden even further.
Burying her face in pretended scrutiny of the paintings, she held one that was unfinished. A casual glance suddenly caught something she could unmistakably recognize:
Bloodstains.
In her haste unrolling it, she hadn’t noticed earlier—the blood had seeped through from the back, thoroughly staining the light green silk front. Judging by the color, it seemed to be from two or three years ago.
"Is this... human blood?"
If it was human blood, even if the person who bled survived, they had teetered at death’s door.
Gazing regretfully at the stain that had utterly ruined a perfectly good painting, Jing Yi nodded. "It’s my blood... Back then, I thought I wouldn’t make it. I planned to take it to the King of Hell to finish painting, but I never made it there, and ended up staining it. Couldn’t wipe it off no matter how I tried..."
That was the time Jing Yi nearly got hacked to death retrieving their betrothal token.
Clutching the painting, Leng Yue suddenly felt Feng Si'er was nothing but a beautiful, passing cloud.
And she...
Lifting her slightly damp phoenix eyes, she looked at Jing Yi with a soft, faintly shy smile, deliberately lowering her voice. "What do you think I resemble?"
Jing Yi narrowed his eyes slightly, pondered earnestly, and replied with gravity,
"A piece of freshly braised pork belly."
"...Go squat in the stables!"
Jing Yi pouted, aggrieved. "That’s a compliment—you’re a feast for the eyes, fragrant and delightful..."
Carefully rolling up the scroll in her hands, Leng Yue shot its painter a fierce glare. "Why not say I’m like boiled fish in chili oil then?"
Jing Yi nodded repeatedly, smacking his lips silently. "That works too. Or garlic spare ribs."
Leng Yue retorted irritably, "Or wood-fired roast duck."
"Pepper beef tenderloin."
"Kung Pao chicken."
"..."
"..."
They locked eyes for a moment, silence hanging between them.
"Are you hungry?"
Leng Yue nodded.
"Shall we go back to the main estate for the tribute offerings?"
"Let’s go."
The Jing family’s main residence on Mid-Autumn Festival was a hundred times livelier than Leng Yue had imagined.By the time the two entered the gate, the rain had already stopped. The osmanthus blossoms knocked down by the sudden shower now emitted an intoxicatingly rich fragrance, as if in retaliation.
Leng Yue followed Jing Yi into the second courtyard before suddenly understanding what he had whispered by her pillow last night about "a messy pile of matters."
It wasn't the tedious formalities of official families as she had imagined, but truly, literally, a messy pile of matters.
The eldest Jing brother, Jing Shi, was standing on a stool tiptoeing to hang lanterns under the eaves.
The second Jing brother, Jing Bai, was rolling up his sleeves, huffing and puffing while setting up a stage.
Jing Qian...
Leng Yue scanned the area but didn't see Jing Qian.
Instead, she spotted a figure resembling Master Jing, wearing a snow-white apron and clutching a vegetable basket, darting toward the backyard in a flash.
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