Chapter 52 Jealousy

Ling Wei held the letter in her hand, and the corners of her mouth unconsciously curved into a smile.

I could almost picture Yi Shao sitting in his wheelchair, muttering to himself, his eyes and brows full of life.

She was staring intently at the letter when the study door was gently pushed open.

Shen Zhilan came in carrying a tray with a celadon bowl on it. He walked to the table, gently put the bowl down, and handed over a pair of chopsticks.

Ling Wei looked up and her gaze fell on the bowl. The plump white dumplings were crowded together, steaming hot. Most of them were neatly arranged, with thin skins and generous fillings, and fine, even pleats. They were clearly the work of a skilled cook.

But amidst this neatness, an outlier emerged.

A dumpling, noticeably smaller, was squeezed against the rim of the bowl. The skin seemed a bit too thick, and the opening was clumsily pinched together, with a small crack faintly visible.

Ling Wei raised an eyebrow, gently poked the oddball with the tip of her chopsticks, and then looked up at Shen Zhilan.

Shen Zhilan, who had been standing quietly to the side, now had a faint blush creeping up her ears.

Ling Wei suddenly understood.

"The cook's skills are getting better and better," she said deliberately, but her chopsticks precisely picked up the dumpling that was a size smaller, dipped it in vinegar, and put it in her mouth.

Shen Zhilan glanced at her quickly and saw that she chewed and swallowed with a normal expression. Only then did the redness on her ears fade slightly, and she pursed her lips very lightly.

Ling Wei finished the dumpling, put down her chopsticks, and looked at him with a knowing smile: "Did you make this?"

Shen Zhilan nodded gently.

To mark the Winter Solstice, the cooks were all busy, and he suddenly had a brilliant idea to try it out.

"Wait a minute, let me reply to a letter first." She said, carefully folding Yi Shao's letter and setting it aside.

I can't be too serious when replying to Yi Shao, otherwise that guy will start overthinking and think I'm being cold.

Ling Wei's pen never stopped; she wrote two pages, the last two sentences responding to his waiting:

"All the affairs in the capital have been arduous. I will tell you about the snow on the Western Hills when I return."

After writing, blow away the ink and put it in an envelope.

She didn't avoid Shen Zhilan. Shen Zhilan stood to the side, his gaze inadvertently sweeping over the intimate and casual tone at the beginning of the letter, and his eyes dimmed.

He quietly cleared away the dishes and left.

That evening, when Ling Wei returned to her bedroom after finishing the last few official documents, she found that Shen Zhilan was already there.

His dark hair was half-disheveled as he sat under the lamp reading a book.

Seeing her come in, he put down his book, got up and walked over. He naturally took the outer robe she had taken off and hung it up, then went to test the water temperature in the copper basin by the bed.

Everything seemed normal, but Ling Wei felt that he was different tonight.

I can't quite put my finger on the differences.

As they lay down and the curtains fell, when he leaned in, his arms tightened around her more than usual, and his kisses were less restrained than before.

Ling Wei was somewhat surprised, but she did not resist. They had been honest with each other these days, and some feelings had naturally developed.

But Shen Zhilan was exceptionally enthusiastic and patient tonight.

Their lips mingled, and his fingertips brushed against her waist, sending a slight shiver through her.

His palms were burning hot as they slid slowly down her back, with force, yet tenderness in every lingering touch.

Ling Wei was a little breathless from his actions and mumbled, "What's wrong with you tonight...?"

Shen Zhilan paused, lowered his head and kissed her shoulder and neck. He didn't answer, but just hugged her tighter and kissed her more deeply, swallowing all her questions.

The temperature inside the tent gradually rose.

Shen Zhilan was unusually clingy and meticulous tonight, every touch carrying a possessive meaning.

Ling Wei initially let him have his way, but later she couldn't stand his nagging anymore. She dug her fingertips into his arm and let out a suppressed gasp.

As the commotion subsided, Ling Wei became drowsy, but Shen Zhilan remained awake, his arm around her, his fingertips gently stroking her sweaty hair.

Then he cupped her hand in his palm and shook it very gently.

Ling Wei half-closed her eyes, knowing he was asking a question, and then let out a lazy hum: "It's okay, being with you isn't too tiring."

She was telling the truth.

Although Shen Zhilan appeared aloof and seemingly unfamiliar with this art, he possessed excellent strength in his waist and arms, and was also very thoughtful, always considering her feelings. Most of the time, he was the one providing the physical guidance, and she only needed to relax and follow along.

But these words stirred up a storm in Shen Zhilan's ears.

Being with him isn't tiring, so does that mean being with other people is more tiring?

The gentle smile on Ling Wei's lips when she replied to his letter suddenly flashed through his mind.

Shen Zhilan's eyes darkened, and he silently tightened his arms around Ling Wei.

The hidden jealousy and resentment in his heart suddenly flared up.

Ling Wei was drowsy when she suddenly felt a tightness around her waist, and was pulled up into a sitting position by a force.

She opened her eyes blankly, and before she could see clearly, Shen Zhilan picked her up in his arms.

"Hey? What are you doing...?"

Before she could finish speaking, she had already been carried a few steps and then gently placed on the soft couch by the window.

The moonlight of the winter night shone through the window paper, casting a hazy glow that outlined Shen Zhilan's close silhouette.

His eyes were unfathomably deep, churning with emotions she couldn't decipher.

Ling Wei blinked, still trying to figure out where this emotion came from, when Shen Zhilan leaned down and kissed her.

This kiss was no longer a gentle probing, but a forceful conquest, while his fingertips patiently brushed over hers, igniting new flames.

The space on the tatami mat was much smaller than that of a bed, and with the two bodies pressed together, every movement brought about more pronounced friction.

Ling Wei was trapped on the couch by him, with the cool couch behind her and his burning chest in front of her, a mixture of ice and fire.

"Shen Zhilan..." she called his name breathlessly, but he swallowed the last syllable.

He paused, looked up at her, and in the moonlight, the darkness in his eyes was so deep it seemed impossible to dispel.

Moonlight streamed down his taut back, beads of sweat slid down his firm muscles, he lowered his head and kissed her sweaty forehead, and then...

Ling Wei bit her lower lip hard, swallowing back a gasp.

On the soft couch by the window, by the table and chairs, and even halfway through, he carried her, half-asleep, to the dressing table, where their overlapping figures were reflected in the bronze mirror...

That night, Shen Zhilan seemed to be determined to prove something, or perhaps to completely vent some inexplicable competitive spirit in this way.

Ling Wei didn't even have the strength to lift a finger in the end. She only remembered that when he carried her back to bed, the sky outside the window was already turning gray.

Shen Zhilan gently tucked her into the quilt, then turned to her side, propping her head up with her fingertips, gently tracing her sleeping face with a deep gaze, lost in thought.

After a long while, he sighed almost inaudibly, pulled her closer to him, and closed his eyes.

Outside the window, on the winter solstice night, snow fell silently.