When Qingying first heard that Meng Zhao had a fiancée, she froze.

There were only three months left...

In three months, he would marry a wife.

She had imagined the scene of Meng Zhao marrying a wife, but she didn't expect it to be so soon.

She was only seventeen years old, in the prime of her life, but she would be buried in this desolate and deserted side courtyard for the next fifty or sixty years.

Qingying lowered her eyelashes to hide her depressed mood. She suddenly felt a little cold, so she tightened the quilt to cover her petite body.

"My Lord, the quilt will be warm in two quarters of an hour. When the time comes, you can call me and I will get up."

Qingying suddenly felt a little tired. After she said this, she closed her eyes and began to doze off.

"Okay." Meng Zhao responded softly, and then closed his eyes.

The two stopped talking, and there was silence in the room. Only the sound of each other's shallow breathing could be heard.

Time passed slowly, and soon two quarters of an hour passed.

Meng Zhao opened his eyes, he stretched out his palm and gently stroked the girl's fair cheek.

Aoying was sleeping soundly, without any movement.

Meng Zhao stretched out his arms and took Aoying, holding her in his arms, he moved over, and slowly pressed his thin lips against Aoying's lips.

As if kissing a treasure, he held the girl's soft cherry lips and kissed and licked them gently.

"Hmm... um..."

After kissing for a while, the girl frowned and murmured. Meng Zhao let her go, kissed her fair forehead lovingly, and then hugged her to sleep.

Meng Zhao found that Qingying was like poppy, which was addictive.

Since the first time he kissed her secretly, he felt itchy every night, always wanting to wait until she fell asleep so that he could kiss her.

Only after tasting her sweetness would he feel at ease and sleep better.

*

The next morning, when it was light, the sound of swallows and sparrows came from the treetops outside the yard.

Qingying was sleeping in a daze, she felt that she was hugged tightly, the feeling of shackles was very clear, so tight that she felt a little uncomfortable.

She blinked her long, thick eyelashes and slowly opened her sleepy eyes.

As soon as she opened her eyes, she saw Meng Zhao's handsome face close to her.

Their bodies were pressed tightly together, she was held tightly in his arms, his big hands tightly wrapped around her slender waist.

Qingying's mind went blank for a moment. How could she spend the night in Meng Zhao's bed again ?

And she ran into his arms.

Last night, she asked Meng Zhao to remind her.

Did Meng Zhao forget again?

Qingying thought about it and could only think of this result.

Meng Zhao hadn't woken up yet. Qingying thought, she had to get up quickly, otherwise he would see her and scold her again.

The man's hand was too tight, and his long legs were pressing on her calves. Qingying had to use some strength to break free from his shackles.

After finally prying Meng Zhao's hand away, Qingying had not yet climbed up, and had just raised half of her body when the man suddenly woke up.

When she first met Meng Zhao's dark and deep eyes, Qingying was so frightened that her breathing stopped. She froze her body and stammered: "Young Master, I... I... didn't mean to stay in your bed... Last night... I was too sleepy and overslept... You seemed to have forgotten to remind me..."

After waiting for a while, the expected scolding did not come, and Qingying lowered her head in surprise and looked at Meng Zhao.

Meng Zhao looked calm, as if he didn't take last night's incident to heart. He rubbed his brows and said, "I felt a little sleepy last night. Maybe I overslept, so I forgot to wake you up."

"Oh."

Seeing that Meng Zhao was not angry, Qingying's tense heart finally settled down.

She immediately got up and dressed, and as usual, she fetched water for Meng Zhao to wash, and helped him dress and eat.

After breakfast, Meng Zhao sat at the desk in front of the window to read the account book, and Qingying was grinding ink and handing him pens.

Qingying secretly looked at the man who was seriously marking the account book. She didn't know if it was an illusion, but she felt that the eldest son seemed to be in a good mood this morning. The corners of his thin lips were slightly raised, as if he was smiling.

But upon closer inspection, it seemed that he was not.

However, he didn't get angry and scold her this morning, so he must be in a good mood.

Qingying made up her mind secretly that tonight, after warming up the quilt, she must remember to get up and not fall asleep again.

Who can guarantee that the eldest master will be in a good mood every day? If he happens to be in a bad mood one day, he will definitely punish her to kneel for the whole morning.