Chapter 10: Does That Make You Happy?

The next morning, Qin Yan woke only after sleeping her fill.

She opened her eyes, caught the faint scent of flowers, and turned her head to see the roses.

Having drunk their fill of water, the petals were in fuller bloom than the night before.

Cheng Tianxun came out of the bathroom and changed his clothes right in front of her.

Qin Yan turned her face away.

"Get up. Let's have breakfast together—I have a few things to say to you." Cheng Tianxun buttoned his shirt with casual indifference.

Qin Yan said yes.

At the table, Qin Yan preferred not to talk, and Cheng Tianxun respected her habit. They sat facing each other and ate in silence, the only sound the soft clink of bowls and chopsticks.

After rinsing their mouths, Cheng Tianxun called her to the small reception room on the first floor for a casual chat.

"You've been very perfunctory about this marriage, Qin Yan," he began.

Qin Yan was about to argue.

Cheng Tianxun pressed on. "On our wedding night, you told me you didn't want to get pregnant and that you'd take medicine. Every time there was some gossip about me and I brought the papers home to explain, you didn't hear a single word. You went straight to the lead writers' names—you just wanted to poach them."

Qin Yan was momentarily speechless.

When she left Gangcheng, Third Aunt Luo had given her five pills.

She said they were made by an imperial physician's family from the previous dynasty, supplied exclusively to princesses and consorts: one pill, and you wouldn't conceive for a year.

Of course, accidents could happen. Whether you got pregnant anyway depended on your constitution and your luck.

Qin Yan didn't go into detail about her medicine.

She only asked Cheng Tianxun whether he could accept that she wouldn't bear a child within three years of marriage.

Cheng Tianxun asked why.

She said, "I could make up plenty of reasons—every one persuasive, every one lovely to hear. Do you want to hear them? The real reason is 'I don't want to.'"

Cheng Tianxun said that was fine. He accepted "I don't want to."

He asked what she needed him to do to ensure three years without pregnancy—was she asking him to live like a monk?

Qin Yan said she had a secret remedy and didn't need him to practice abstinence.

He agreed.

He didn't ask what the medicine was.

As for his scandals...

What he brought back were newspapers, which happened to be Qin Yan's professional domain. Some lead writers had styles she found fascinating—it was hard not to pay attention.

Cheng Tianxun calling her "perfunctory" left Qin Yan with little to say in her own defense.

"...Do you need me to apologize? To do better?" She lifted her eyes and looked at him calmly.

Her skin was snow-white, like a statue carved from ice—cold in expression and gaze.

She sat there upright, untouched by any trace of the mortal world.

She always made Cheng Tianxun think of "ice-clear and jade-pure": apparently the phrase could describe not just character, but appearance.

"No apology needed, and no improvements expected. As a wife, you satisfy me well," Cheng Tianxun said. "It's just—I don't want a repeat of what happened before."

"My refusing to share your bed?"

"You got angry over one small oversight on my part. I don't think that was right." Cheng Tianxun slowly drew out a cigarette.

"I'll reflect on it," Qin Yan said. "I assumed you would at least remember my name. I admit I was acting on temper."

Cheng Tianxun struck a match. He lowered his head to the orange flame, and a faint scent of tobacco spread through the room.

Qin Yan sat quietly and asked, "This isn't what you wanted to talk about today, is it?"

This was only the opening.

He was using it as a lead-in to the topic he actually wanted to discuss.

Cheng Tianxun smiled. "I knew you were smart."

Not a wealthy madam who sat at home playing mahjong—Qin Yan ran her own newspaper.

According to his adjutant's reports, Qin Yan's paper was doing remarkably well. Before the marriage, *The Vernacular Times* had already broken into the market. She'd cut into rivals' profits and nearly been killed for lacking backing.

She hadn't built her business on the military government's power.

She'd started from nothing, alone, and built an outstanding newspaper.

She was sharp. Shrewd.

Coldness and purity were only the surface. Beneath, she was a leopard crouched in the snowfields, camouflaged in the colors of heaven and earth, unstoppable.

"Qin Yan, what I want to ask is this: do we keep the marriage going like this, you perfunctory and me perfunctory—or do we both take a step forward?" Cheng Tianxun exhaled a thin stream of smoke.

The haze drifted between them. His eyes were dark and unreadable, betraying nothing as he looked at her.

"How would we take a step forward?" Qin Yan asked.

"I'm asking your opinion. If I want to take you to bed, do I have to consult my adjutant on how to please my wife, run out in the afternoon to buy roses?"

If nothing changed, then no more pretense. From here on, their relationship stayed as it was: outside the bedroom, a political alliance, neither disturbing the other.

Inside the bedroom, no personal feelings—only physical pleasure.

Refusing to share his bed because he forgot her name wasn't a reasonable excuse. She could have said she was in a bad mood that day, or simply unwilling.

Cheng Tianxun wanted to keep things as they were.

It wasn't the first time Qin Yan had refused him.

Several times she'd simply said "I don't want to" or "I'm tired," and he'd accepted it.

He wanted both of them to have fire in bed, bodies intertwined—not him plowing the field alone. He wasn't an ox.

When she didn't want to, he wasn't angry. He didn't think about it every day either.

But the reason she'd given the night before had edged toward personal feelings. He wanted to ask Qin Yan whether she had something on her mind.

She'd better not.

If she did, she could put it out of her head now. Everyone stay where they are. Don't move.

"...Are you satisfied with things as they are?" Qin Yan looked at him after a long pause.

Cheng Tianxun nodded. "Satisfied."

"Then I'll change my reason from the other night. I was being followed. It frightened me, and I was in a terrible mood," Qin Yan said.

Cheng Tianxun: "..."

"That's also true. I took some of it out on you," Qin Yan said.

She paused, then added, "And chatting with Miss Ling about the holidays brought back memories of my helpless childhood. I was in a very bad mood."

Cheng Tianxun exhaled another stream of smoke.

"Of all the reasons I could have picked, I chose one that put the blame on you. I wanted to shift responsibility. I didn't want to feel guilty when I refused you," Qin Yan said.

"Very skillful."

"Thank you for the flowers. I'll send you a gift in return," Qin Yan said.

Cheng Tianxun stubbed out his cigarette. "So this matter is settled?"

"Yes."

Cheng Tianxun let out a breath.

He stood, and Qin Yan rose as well.

He stepped forward and gave her a light hug, patting her back with a smile. "I didn't marry the wrong person, Mrs. Cheng."

He had an easy, satisfying marriage.

Conversation with Qin Yan flowed smoothly.

She was like frost on a winter branch, hanging far off—striking to behold. But once you stepped into a warm room, you could put her out of your mind entirely, no further thought required.

Cheng Tianxun was too busy.

He was twenty-five this year, his career foundations still unsteady. Too many things outside demanded his attention—more than there were hairs on an ox. He truly had no spare mind for matters at home.

Qin Yan didn't love him. He knew that.

So he didn't need to give anything back.

"Is there a gift you'd like?" Qin Yan asked.

Cheng Tianxun: "Whatever you like."

"A lighter?" Qin Yan said. "Or a new-model Browning?"

Cheng Tianxun: "You can get your hands on a new-model Browning?"

"I'll find a way."

"The channels you use burn through my connections," he said. "A lighter is fine. I'm not short on guns."

Qin Yan looked faintly disappointed.

Cheng Tianxun understood.

She wanted the new-model Browning herself. She was using a gift for him as an excuse to buy one for herself.

Cheng Tianxun felt a flicker of mischief: next time something came up, he'd give her a fine gun and see what she racked her brains to give back.