Chapter 9: You Have a Home in Jiangzhou?

Pu Rou slipped her arm through the man's and the two of them ambled toward Sheng Lian's courtyard.

"Hubby, what kind of person is your second sister-in-law?"

His gaze went a little blank. "Never really noticed."

"Why ask about her, of all people?"

The old Sheng estate was crawling with odd characters, yet she'd fixed her interest on Rong Ling—the second sister-in-law who usually came across as dull and withdrawn.

Pu Rou's voice was quiet, but her words landed like a thunderclap.

"Haven't you noticed? Second Sister-in-Law pays you special attention."

Rong Ling's plain face surfaced in Sheng Kuang's mind, and his brows drew together slightly.

His second brother, Sheng Lian, and Rong Ling had married in a match of equal standing. Outsiders described Sheng Lian as gentle and refined—the son whose temperament most resembled their father, Sheng Yuanhong, which was precisely why the old man favored him.

Rong Ling came from a scholarly family, elegant and amiable. Sheng Kuang had no interest in a woman so colorless and flavorless, so he'd neither paid attention nor retained much memory of her.

"She's been married into the Sheng family four or five years and still no child with Second Brother. No telling whose problem it is."

Sheng Kuang stood much taller than Pu Rou. She tipped her head back to look at him, faintly surprised—she hadn't expected him to actually give her a serious rundown.

"With no child, Second Sister-in-Law has no standing to speak of. She keeps quiet, barely registers in the household. How did you even notice her?"

Pu Rou kept her eyes ahead. "I already told you why."

"A woman interested in my husband—how could I not notice?"

He found it absurd. "You—"

"Dare we test it?"

He glanced at her. "You're probably overthinking this."

"Then I'll just moan louder tonight."

He turned his head. "How are you—"

She gave a little huff. "How what?"

"Shameless, wanton, loose?"

He had nothing to say to that.

"I can tell you're into it."

Sheng Kuang: "..."

Sheng Lian's courtyard sat in the northwest, tucked among bamboo groves—quiet, secluded.

By the time Pu Rou and Sheng Kuang returned, the bedding and daily necessities had all been swapped for fresh ones.

The butler had thoughtfully sent over a change of clothes.

Pu Rou refused to wear the ugly nightgown the servants brought. She commandeered Sheng Kuang's white T-shirt, showered, and sat on the spring stool by the big Chinese-style bed, rubbing lotion into her skin.

The man, left with nothing to wear, sat on the sofa nearby reviewing documents on his tablet.

His lean muscle cut clean, handsome lines.

Pu Rou smoothed lotion over her body, heart fluttering, head full of filthy thoughts.

Just as she drifted off into fantasy—knock, knock, knock.

Seeing her occupied, Sheng Kuang set down the tablet and rose to answer the door.

The wooden latch slid back. The person outside was none other than the subject of their earlier discussion—Rong Ling.

She stood there with a tray. At the sight of Sheng Kuang bare-chested, her expression went from startled to flushed.

He'd never paid her much mind before. Tonight, after Pu Rou's remark, and now catching that bashful look on her face, an inexplicable distaste stirred in his gut.

"It's late. Something you need, Second Sister-in-Law?"

Rong Ling darted a glance inside and said quickly, "I brought Xiao Rou a midnight snack. Fish maw stew from the small kitchen."

Pu Rou padded over in slippers and poked her head out from behind Sheng Kuang, all warmth and intimacy.

"Thank you, Second Sister-in-Law. You could've just sent someone. No need to trouble yourself."

Only then did Rong Ling realize Pu Rou wore nothing but an oversized T-shirt, two slender bare legs on display beneath it—no wonder she'd hidden behind him.

She smoothed the surprise from her face and handed the tray to Sheng Kuang.

"Thank you, Second Sister-in-Law."

His voice was clear and cool, and Rong Ling's heart clenched again. She nodded and turned back toward her room.

Sheng Kuang re-latched the door.

He turned to find Pu Rou's long bare legs exposed and ran a palm along them. "Get in bed. You'll catch cold."

She climbed up obediently and pulled the blanket over herself. "You still have work to finish?"

He nodded.

"Then I'll wait for you."

He switched off the bedside lamp, then went for the main light.

Pu Rou: "?"

The man groped his way onto the bed in the dark. His hand finally found the warm, delicate jade beneath him, and his voice came low as a cello.

"Actually, nothing that can't wait."

*

Even lying in bed, Rong Ling couldn't stop the image of Sheng Kuang at the door from replaying in her head.

Sheng Lian came out of the bathroom, wiping his wet rimless glasses. People who wear glasses all the time squint without realizing it once they take them off.

Rong Ling knew better than anyone what her husband—so polished and proper in public—was really like in private. Looking at him now, a secret disgust welled up from somewhere deep.

It was his body that was the problem. Every time he charged in with all that bluster, it was thunder without rain.

Yet the pressure of producing an heir fell entirely on her. He wouldn't admit it, wouldn't see a doctor.

The courtyard was mostly wood construction, and the soundproofing was mediocre at best. A sudden giggle drifted in from next door, jolting Rong Ling out of her daze.

Thinking about what might be happening on the other side of that wall... her chest tightened.

Sheng Lian, meanwhile, was in fine spirits. "Newlyweds—can't even hold back one night back at the old estate."

He climbed onto the bed, reaching for his wife. "I'm feeling quite in the mood myself today."

Irritation prickled through Rong Ling like weeds, but she couldn't refuse.

Sheng Lian's moods came rarely. She had to treasure every chance at conception.

She reached out and turned off the light. "Come on, then."

In the dark, Rong Ling closed her eyes. What surfaced in her mind was Sheng Kuang's face—sharp brow bones, high nose bridge, that cool, distant expression...

A man like that—was he cold in bed too?

Would he have that same imperious dominance, that careless, effortless control?

The more she imagined, the wetter she became.

Sheng Lian's excitement mounted. With no tenderness at all, he flipped her over and landed several sharp slaps on her backside.

A whimper escaped Rong Ling's throat.

The slaps landed hard.

The room next door could hear almost everything.

Pu Rou, sprawled on Sheng Kuang's chest, froze mid-motion and whispered,

"...Your second brother is way too rough in bed."

Sheng Kuang's fingers drifted idly through her hair, his voice full of grit.

"Pu Rou, could you focus?"

"Call me 'darling,' 'sweetheart,' 'my little slut,' 'my vixen'—anything but my full name."

He laughed low beneath her, chest vibrating faintly, devastating.

"Do you have a pet name?"

She bit her lower lip, thought for a moment. "...Forget it. Total mood killer."

Her reaction only intrigued him more. "What is it?"

He steadied her waist and moved.

Pu Rou went off like a scalded cat. "Ah—"

She swatted at him, indignant. "I told you not to move yet!"

Sheng Kuang raised both hands in surrender. "Fine, fine—you do the work, Your Majesty."

She was about to continue when a muffled male groan came through the wall, and then—silence.

She stared into the dark, dumbfounded. "That's it?"