The morning light in the northern frontier always arrives with exceptional sharpness, a golden-red blade cleaving through the gray-blue sky, carrying an undeniable sharpness, piercing the thin frost that has condensed on the windows of the general's mansion. The air is crisp and dry; a breath carries the scent of frost, snow, and the wilderness, penetrating deep into the lungs.
The warmth of the inner room contrasted sharply with the chill of the outside. The silver charcoal in the brazier burned brightly, emitting a soft crackling sound, filling the room with warmth. Lu Xiao had already gotten up, wearing only a thin nightgown, yet his movements were as light as a fox skimming across a snowfield. He stood before the large rosewood dressing table, intently arranging the dazzling array of bottles and jars on it—An'an's treasures, all sorts of ointments, perfumes, and face creams.
An'an nestled in the soft, thick quilt, her body still warm from their bodies, drowsy and sleepy. She had been thoroughly exhausted by his caresses the previous night, and now her whole body felt languidly sore. She slightly opened her eyes, her long eyelashes casting a small shadow beneath them. Her vision was still a little blurry when she saw that tall, imposing figure with his back to her.
He was more than four years younger than her, but his frame had already fully developed—broad shoulders, narrow waist, and the muscles beneath his nightgown were smooth and powerful, the result of years of battlefield experience. At this moment, this body, brimming with immense strength, leaned slightly forward, with an almost clumsy earnestness, carefully opening the lid of a small white jade box, his fingertip touching a drop of the creamy, translucent white ointment inside. He turned his head, seemingly sniffing the ointment, his brow furrowed slightly, a hint of childlike scrutiny and bewilderment in his expression, as if reviewing crucial military intelligence.
An'an couldn't help but smile, her heart melting completely. This young general, who commanded thousands of troops and struck fear into the hearts of enemies, was always as meticulous as a mother hen to her.
"Awake?" Lu Xiao's ears were incredibly sharp; he noticed the movement almost the instant her lips curved into a smile. He immediately put down the jade box, turned around, and strode to the bedside to sit down. The bed slumped slightly under his weight. He leaned down, carrying the fresh scent of morning and a lingering, unique aroma of himself from the previous night, and unceremoniously planted a resounding kiss on her smooth, full forehead.
"Ugh...it itches." An An shrank her neck, her voice soft and hoarse from just waking up, like a lazy cat.
"Get up and drink your medicine." Lu Xiao's tone left no room for argument. He reached under the quilt and accurately grasped her slender ankle. The northern border was bitterly cold, and her constitution was weak. Her hands and feet were easily chilled after winter arrived. This was a daily ritual—a bowl of warm tonic soup that he personally watched him brew.
Cool fingertips touched the delicate skin of An'an's ankle, and An'an instinctively tried to pull away, but he held her firmly. His palms were hot, calloused, and the heat seemed to penetrate her skin and soothe her bones, dispelling the morning chill. With his other hand, he picked up a bowl of warm medicine from the small table beside him; the dark brown liquid emitted a strong, bitter herbal aroma.
"Open your mouth." He scooped up a spoonful and brought it to her lips, the movement as natural as if he had rehearsed it a thousand times.
An'an frowned, looking at the dark medicine, and instinctively backed away, saying, "Bitter." She drew out the last syllable, with an unconscious hint of coquetry.
Lu Xiao raised an eyebrow, his deep black eyes fixed on her, devoid of any compromise, only an air of knowing, "I knew you'd do this." He held the medicine spoon steadily, then moved it forward, almost touching her lips, his voice low and laced with a playful threat: "Want me to feed you? With your mouth?"
An'an's cheeks instantly flushed red, and she glared at him angrily. This trick always worked, so she resignedly parted her lips slightly and took the warm medicine into her mouth. The bitter taste instantly filled the air, making her whole face scrunch up. She subconsciously wanted to stick out her tongue, but he had anticipated this and pinched her chin.
"Swallow it." His fingertips, calloused, gently caressed the soft flesh of her chin, a gesture that was both soothing and commanding. Watching her swallow the bitter medicine with difficulty, a flicker of satisfaction crossed his eyes before he scooped up a second spoonful.
The bowl of medicine was emptied under his "coercion and enticement." Finally, as if by magic, he pulled out a small packet of candied fruit from his sleeve, picked up a glistening apricot, and stuffed it directly into her slightly pouting lips, which were bitter from the taste.
The sweet taste instantly washed away the bitterness. An'an sucked on the candied fruit, her tongue swirling over the sweet, soft flesh, and the grievances she had just suffered from the medicine began to dissipate. Lu Xiao watched her close her eyes in satisfaction, like a cat whose fur had been stroked, before getting up and methodically preparing hot water for her to wash up, choosing a thick fur coat for her to wear that day, and even carefully checking her silver needle pouch to ensure everything was in order.
He was always like this. Despite being younger than her, he took care of her with more meticulous care than an army, forcefully infiltrating every crevice of her life.
During the day, Lu Xiao's general's residence belonged to the military camp, to the shouts of drills and the simulations on the sand table. An'an, on the other hand, belonged to her infirmary, filled with the aroma of medicine, to the grateful gazes of wounded soldiers, and to the complex herbs that needed to be processed. Only during the brief lunch break would Lu Xiao return to the residence without fail. At the table, he would always be the first to pick up his chopsticks, carefully deboning the tenderly stewed mutton and placing the most tender parts into her bowl; he would also meticulously skim off the oil floating in the soup bowl.
"Eat more." He looked at her, his gaze sweeping over her still slender waist. "The wind is strong in the north. Without some meat, a gust of wind will blow you away." His tone was calm, but it contained an undeniable concern.
Sometimes An'an would deliberately be picky about food. When she poked at the vegetables in her bowl with her chopsticks, he would put down his own chopsticks and put the vegetables she didn't like into his own bowl, then pile the meat pieces she liked into her bowl, saying simply, "Eat it." His eyes were like those of someone supervising a disobedient recruit.
As the sun dipped westward and twilight descended, the northern night wind, carrying an even deeper chill, howled past the old poplars in the courtyard. Inside the mansion, lights gradually illuminated the scene, dispelling the desolation outside the windows.
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