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Chapter 1
The candlelight flickered, casting shadows that danced and swayed. Heat surged and overwhelmed, wrapping the body in an impenetrable embrace.
Song Jinhe struggled to catch her breath, her chest rising and falling heavily as she tried to grasp the stolen air. Suddenly, hot, wet lips and tongue descended upon her—rough, urgent, as if to devour her whole.
She was bound tightly, pressed firmly. Shadows flickered before her eyes, but a mist blurred her vision, obscuring the scene.
“Come in.”
The low, soft voice startled her. Only when a coarse, heavy breath brushed against her cheek did she realize the voice belonged to herself.
Pausing only for a moment, she urged impatiently, “Hurry.”
Her husky whisper, steeped in desire, was a bold and passionate invitation. She even arched her waist with her own urging.
The seamless closeness sent tingling waves through her, shooting straight to her spine. Overwhelmed, she was about to collapse again when a large hand suddenly grasped her legs, lifting her up.
The palm burned fiercely; the uncontrolled force left several deep indentations in her tender skin. A hand as white as porcelain slipped between his fingers, staining the surrounding flesh with a rosy flush.
A sudden gulp escaped him. The man, unable to contain his passion as he entered, whispered lowly, “Xiao He…”
At the moment when the aching fullness reached its peak, Song Jinhe abruptly awoke.
Her eyes opened, flowing with tears, cheeks flushed crimson. Her back was damp with sweat, like a furnace, and her chest heaved with uneven breaths.
She had dreamed it again. Damn, she had dreamed it again!
The seductive expression vanished instantly from her face, replaced by a flush of shame and anger as she sat up quickly.
Had she gone mad? How many more times was she going to dream of that man?
When the maid entered, she dared not raise her eyes but sensed the oppressive atmosphere in the room. Today, Miss Song was in a foul mood again.
The maids surrounding Song Jinhe carefully dressed and groomed her, speaking not a word, not even daring to breathe loudly.
In the bronze mirror, the young lady’s somber expression could not conceal her exquisitely sculpted beauty.
Ruby lips and jade-like face, snow-white skin and delicate features.
Her emerald brows curved like willows, her bright eyes blossomed like peach flowers.
The upturned corners of her eyes lent a charming yet refined allure—unconventional by current standards, yet one in a million in beauty.
Her apricot-red embroidered silk gown, woven with golden clouds, accentuated the rosy translucence of her skin, outlining the slender curves of her waist with regal splendor.
The intricate, delicate styling was completed swiftly under the deft hands of the maids.
Maid Mingqiu bowed and asked, “Miss, shall we prepare the carriage to go to the Spring Flower Pavilion now?”
Song Jinhe’s barely softened expression darkened instantly upon hearing this.
Originally, she had arranged to meet Zhu Mingxuan at the Spring Flower Pavilion today, but now she felt reluctant.
The reason was no other than the strange, disturbing dreams that had plagued her recently.
First, she dreamed of Zhu Mingxuan’s duplicity and fickleness.
Then she dreamed of herself entangled in passion with a stranger she had only met once.
This explanation sounded absurd—who would take dreams seriously?
Yet the dreams repeated, vivid and real.
Just like yesterday, she could clearly feel the aching stretch…
“Miss? Miss? Are you all right?”
Flushing deeply, Song Jinhe snapped back to reality, her tone sharp, “Nothing. I’m not going today!”
She felt no guilt, after all, it was only a dream.
She just thought it ridiculous—why would she dream such nonsense?
Mingqiu was taken aback, confused and hesitant.
Just now she had heard that Young Master Zhu was already waiting at the Spring Flower Pavilion.
Mingqiu opened her mouth to speak when suddenly a footman hurried in, reporting, “Miss, the Sheng residence has sent word that they have found your previously lost earrings.”
Turning around, Song Jinhe asked, “Really? They ended up at the Sheng residence? And they sent them to me?”
“No, Madam Sheng said she took this opportunity to invite you to visit the house.”
Song Jinhe fell silent.
A month ago, she had attended Madam Sheng’s birthday banquet with her mother.
It was also at that banquet she had seen, besides Zhu Mingxuan, another man who had recently appeared repeatedly in her dreams.
The sole son of the Sheng family—Sheng Congyuan.
No matter how hard she racked her brain, she could not understand why she dreamed of Sheng Congyuan.
Dreaming of Zhu Mingxuan made sense—he was her childhood playmate and now her fiancé.
She had returned to the capital for the engagement, meeting with Zhu Mingxuan several times recently.
But Sheng Congyuan? They had only met for the first time at Madam Sheng’s birthday banquet.
Song Jinhe admitted Sheng Congyuan had a face that left an impression at first glance.
Even more striking than her father, who had once been scorned by thousands yet secretly admired by many girls.
He inherited Madam Sheng’s bright, rounded peach blossom eyes, thick eyebrows, and bold, flamboyant gaze.
He also bore Lord Li’s sharply chiseled face—like carved from stone—stern and cold.
Tall and long-legged, he stood out prominently amidst the crowd at the banquet.
His cold, aloof aura made him unapproachable.
He easily drew everyone’s attention.
But that was all.
Song Jinhe was certain she did not fall in love with Sheng Congyuan at first sight.
After their gazes met—his fierce, cold eyes—she lost interest and looked away, pushing him from her mind.
She was not a girl to be blindly captivated by male beauty, especially with an engagement already arranged; how could she entertain other thoughts?
Yet since that day, her dreams began to change.
No longer did only Zhu Mingxuan appear.
In her dream, she and Sheng Congyuan became husband and wife.
That single utterance of “husband” echoed in her mind, making her break out in goosebumps.
How disgusting she felt.
No, how could she even think such thoughts?
Song Jinhe’s face darkened further, the more she thought, the more wrong it felt.
The footman waiting at the door could not resist asking, “Miss, do you want to decline Madam Sheng’s invitation?”
Song Jinhe bit her lip, her brows knitting into a tight knot.
Those earrings were very important to her; she had to retrieve them.
After a moment’s hesitation, she said, “No need. I will go. Prepare a small gift to take along.”
Mingqiu anxiously asked, “Miss, what about Young Master Zhu?”
Song Jinhe’s eyes darkened, her patience gone. “Tell him to go back. We’ll meet another time. I’m not in the mood today.”
No one knew why Song Jinhe was so bold early this morning.
Her thoughts were hard to fathom, and her temper was proud and willful as ever.
No one dared argue, quickly obeying her orders.
The spring sunlight was just right as the Song family’s heiress left the mansion in grand fashion, a large entourage sweeping towards the Sheng residence.
*
At the center of the Sheng estate’s training ground stood a raised stone platform.
Sheng Congyuan, clad in black training gear, stood amid four wooden dummies.
Three of the dummies were broken or toppled.
He turned to face the last one.
With a sudden punch, fierce and sharp, he struck hard.
The crisp crack of splintering wood was drowned beneath the pounding blows.
A gust of wind followed by a snap—the last dummy shattered under a spinning kick.
The training ground fell silent.
The servants waiting below bowed their heads, silent and fearful.
Sheng Congyuan slowly lowered his raised leg, eyes fixed on the half-destroyed dummy.
A bead of crystal-clear sweat slid down his sharp jawline.
It traced his neck, vanished into his collarbone, and finally soaked his garment.
The sweat-dampened black clothes clung to his body, outlining broad shoulders, a narrow waist, strong arms, and a rising chest.
His overexertion dulled his limbs with aching weakness, demanding rest.
Yet the heavy burden in his chest raged on, refusing to dissipate.
Sheng Congyuan’s eyes darkened as he muttered hoarsely, “Change in some sturdier ones.”
The servant at the front trembled and bowed quickly. “Yes, Young Master.”
*
Just as the servant turned, hurried footsteps approached from outside the training ground.
Sheng Congyuan glanced sharply, his icy gaze nearly halting the runner’s pace.
Xin Yun’s breath caught, but he quickly recovered, running while speaking in a lowered voice, “Young Master, good news! Great news.”
Sheng Congyuan’s brows furrowed fiercely, radiating silent authority.
He pursed his lips, saying nothing.
Xin Yun took two or three strides onto the platform, leaned close, and whispered, “Young Master, Miss Song has arrived.”
Sheng Congyuan paused, his expression loosening unconsciously; the coldness vanished from his face.
“What did you say?”
“Miss Song, the Song family’s heiress—the one you mentioned before—is now at the gate. She should have already entered.”
His face brightened instantly.
His dark eyes gleamed as he stepped forward, disbelief in his voice as he asked those following, “Why would she come?”
“It seems Madam invited her. She’s probably headed to Madam’s quarters now.”
“Good. Go to the Bamboo Garden.”
A blend of surprise and eagerness transformed Sheng Congyuan, a stark contrast to his earlier demeanor.
He strode quickly off the training ground, heading toward the Bamboo Garden—but suddenly paused, turning back.
“No, go back to my room. Prepare a bucket of hot water.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
“No, too slow. Don’t heat it. Cold water instead.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
*
Led by maids of the Sheng residence, Song Jinhe arrived before a courtyard surrounded by bamboo groves.
The bamboo stalks were tall and slender, evergreen through all seasons.
In winter, they braved snow and frost; in spring, they burst with vitality.
She had noticed this grove during the banquet last month, never expecting the main Sheng residence to be nestled within it.
The scent of bamboo was pleasant, easing her slight nervousness.
After the servants at the gate saluted and reported inside, she was invited in.
Song Jinhe had heard that Madam Sheng was originally not from the capital and had moved here only in recent years after marrying Lord Li.
Madam Sheng was gentle and easygoing, without the airs of a high-born lady.
Her parents had mentioned meeting Madam Sheng’s family in Luoye City when she was young.
But she was too young then to remember clearly.
Upon seeing her arrival, Sheng Yao smiled warmly, unable to hide her joy as she beckoned, “Miss Song, please come and sit.”
Song Jinhe bowed slightly and walked over.
Sheng Yao was brewing tea; the fragrant aroma filled the room.
After Song Jinhe sat, Sheng Yao poured her a cup of hot tea.
“It’s tea I grew myself. Miss Song, please do not mind.”
“How could I? Thank you, Madam.”
Song Jinhe didn’t quite understand why Madam Sheng had specially invited her today.
If it were only to return the earrings, they could have been sent directly.
If it were to show off, it was unlike Madam Sheng’s style.
Still, she was grateful the lost earrings had been found and thought it proper to thank her in person.
Madam Sheng did not beat around the bush.
“A few days ago, a servant found a pair of precious earrings at my birthday banquet. After some inquiry, we learned they belonged to you, so I took the chance today to invite you here and see if these are the ones you lost.”
Raising her hand, a maid brought out an embroidered box.
Opening it revealed a pair of translucent, gleaming jade-green earrings.
Song Jinhe’s eyes brightened; her heart, which had been suspended, fully relaxed.
“Exactly these. I was so careless to lose them. Thank you for your trouble, Madam.”
Sheng Yao’s bright eyes smiled as she looked at Song Jinhe, a bit embarrassed by the thanks.
“Nonsense, it was a small favor. Now the earrings are back where they belong.”
The maid handed the embroidered box to Song Jinhe.
Clearly treasuring the earrings, she received them with both hands and thanked Sheng Yao again.
“Thank you, Madam. To express my gratitude, please accept this modest gift. I hope you won’t feel distant toward me.”
Sheng Yao blinked and was about to reply when a servant outside suddenly announced, “Madam, Young Master is here to pay his respects.”
Song Jinhe’s spine stiffened; the joy on her face froze instantly.
A chaotic flood of images threatened to invade her mind at the mention of that name.
Sheng Yao murmured in puzzlement, “At this hour? What could he be paying respects for?”
Indeed, at this hour—what respect?
Song Jinhe prayed silently, hoping Sheng Yao would say, “Tell him to come back later.”
Instead, Sheng Yao, though confused, nodded and said, “Oh, let him come in.”