After a night of indulgence, Qin Xiyi concluded that Cheng Muzhi’s body was made of iron.

He had arrived looking pale and frail, but the moment they got into bed, this guy became energetic, tossing her around in all sorts of ways, showing no sign of illness at all.

It wasn’t until the sky began to lighten that they both felt exhausted. Yet, even as they lay in each other’s arms, they couldn’t fall asleep.

“Young Master,” Qin Xiyi teased mercilessly, twirling a lock of his hair, “you feigned illness today to deceive your sovereign…”

“I wasn’t feigning illness,” the Hanlin official declared with righteous indignation. “I was suffering from lovesickness.”

“If I hadn’t come today, would you have waited another hour?” Qin Xiyi scoffed, hugging his neck and pecking his newly sprouted stubble.

“I would have waited all night,” Cheng Muzhi said, as if recalling something. He stared at the enchanting person before him, puffed out his cheeks, and added, “You said you would come. If not today, then tomorrow; if not tomorrow, then in a year. I don’t have many virtues, but my patience is quite good.”

He’s truly sick!

Qin Xiyi grumbled inwardly, but her kisses became more provocative. “Then it’s truly my fault. From now on, even if I have to be punished or scolded, I’ll sneak out of the palace to fool around with you…”

Cheng Muzhi remained unmoved. He caught her hands and clasped them over his chest. “Why don’t we get married first? I’ll arrange the formal proposal and betrothal gifts later, and then we won’t be ‘fooling around’ anymore.”

“Young Master keeps mentioning marriage every day, yet you don’t even know my name. Aren’t you willing to marry anyone?”

Cheng Muzhi froze for a moment, then pulled her into his embrace and pressed her against the headboard. “As long as it’s you, I’m willing to marry anytime. As for your name, you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

“Then remember, my name is Nian’er.”

“Alright, my Nian’er…”

A string in Qin Xiyi’s heart was plucked, her name called out in clear, rippling waves, like a gentle breeze caressing her entire being.

“Cheng Lang, you’re calling me, calling me…”

“Nian’er, Nian’er, Nian’er…”

After a night of unbridled passion, Qin Xiyi came to one conclusion: Cheng Mozhi was made of iron.

He’d arrived looking pale and frail, yet the moment they hit the sheets, the man became a force of nature, ravishing her in every way imaginable. There wasn’t a trace of illness to be found.

It wasn’t until the first light of dawn touched the horizon that exhaustion finally set in, yet as they lay tangled in each other’s arms, sleep remained elusive.

Qin Xiyi toyed with a stray lock of his hair, teasing him mercilessly. “My Lord, faking an illness like you did today is a crime against the Crown…”

“I wasn’t faking,” the Hanlin scholar replied with a look of utmost solemnity. “I was suffering from lovesickness.”

“And if I hadn’t come today, would you have waited another hour?” Qin Xiyi let out a soft laugh, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting a peck on his fresh stubble.

“I would have waited all night.” Cheng Mozhi seemed to recall something. He gazed at the radiant woman before him and puffed out his cheeks slightly. “You said you would come. If not one day, then two; if not two days, then a year. I don’t have many virtues, but I do have a fair amount of patience.”

He really was mad!

Qin Xiyi grumbled inwardly, though her kisses grew more provocative. “Then it truly is my fault. From now on, even if I have to risk punishment and scolding, I’ll sneak out of the palace just to dally with you, my Lord…”

Cheng Mozhi remained unmoved, catching her hands and pinning them to his chest. “In that case, why don’t we perform the wedding bows now? I’ll make up for the formal rites and betrothal gifts later. That way, it won’t be called ‘dallying’ anymore.”

“You talk of marriage every single day, yet you don’t even know my name. Are you so desperate that you’d marry just anyone?”

Cheng Mozhi paused, then pulled her into his arms, pressing her against the headboard. “As long as it’s you, I’ll marry you anytime. As for your name… you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

“Then remember this: my name is Nian’er.”

“Very well… my Nian’er…”

It felt as though a string had been plucked in Qin Xiyi’s heart. His crisp, clear voice washed over her in waves like a gentle breeze, caressing her entire being.

“Cheng-lang, you’re calling me… call me again…”

“Nian’er, Nian’er, Nian’er…”