Chapter One: Borrowing a Seed for a Child

“Hiss… it hurts.”

Liu Fuying leaned against the bamboo bed, her slender fingers clutching the torn front of her robe. The curve of her chest peeked through, hair messy and disheveled, making her look like she’d been bullied.

Her eyes were lowered, but her gaze clung to the man standing beside the bed.

Dressed in white, he looked almost otherworldly, his presence stirring something calculating deep in her heart.

A matter that had troubled her for half a month—perhaps it now had a turning point.

“If it hurts, why did you move?”

Not only was he good-looking, even his voice was pleasant to the ear.

Especially with that cold, distant tone tinged with a hint of concern—it was the kind of voice that stirred hearts.

“I was just scared,” Liu Fuying said softly, her voice delicate.

“Suddenly waking up in a strange place, with a strange man beside me—just the two of us, a man and a woman, alone in one room—I…”

Her hesitant words painted a vivid picture of fear, embarrassment, and vulnerability.

The man’s brows furrowed. Understanding her discomfort, he stepped back a few paces, the iron chains dragging behind him with a muffled clang.

Liu Fuying turned her gaze toward the chains—two thick black ones shackled to his wrists and ankles.

She hadn’t expected that the infamous Imperial Uncle Pei Zhouwu, imprisoned on Xiang Mountain for treason six months ago, would cross paths with her like this.

It was said that Pei Zhouwu looked like a god, with a divine presence.

Seeing him today, it was all true.

Even in shackles and plain clothes, his refined aura couldn’t be dimmed.

“But I trust you are a gentleman. Falling from such a high cliff and surviving—I must’ve been saved by you. You have a noble heart. I will never forget your kindness.”

Pei Zhouwu exhaled slowly and calmly replied,
“I’ve examined your injuries. Apart from a fractured right arm and a sprained left ankle, the rest are surface wounds. Nothing life-threatening. It’s too dark to descend the mountain now, but I’ll take you down first thing tomorrow.”

He addressed the critical issues plainly, but Liu Fuying seized on something else, her voice trembling:

“You’ve… examined me? All of me?”

Feigning embarrassment, she clutched her torn robe even tighter.

Pei Zhouwu turned his head and met her teary eyes.
Her words made his gaze instinctively drift toward her chest—then, as if realizing the impropriety, he turned away abruptly in self-reproach.

“Miss, I…”

“You don’t have to say it.”

She cut him off in a panic—on the surface flustered and unwilling to hear anything further about her body, but in truth, her eyes sparkled with barely concealed delight.

The more vague things were, the more entangled they could become.

“…I’ll get you something to eat.”

Pei Zhouwu turned his back to her, his brow tightly knit.

To be honest, he had seen more than he should—but it wasn’t on purpose. At the time, he’d only been focused on saving her.

He carried the chains and left quickly.

Once alone, Liu Fuying began inspecting her wounds. From head to toe, she was battered in varying degrees.

Earlier that day, she’d gone to Changming Temple on the mountain to pray for her sick mother-in-law.

But on the way back, it had started to rain.

The wet grass had been slippery, and she fell from a cliff—losing consciousness from the impact.

When she woke, it was to the scene just now.

Yes, she had a mother-in-law. She was already married.

But after two years of marriage, she was still a virgin. Her husband was as good as nonexistent, always away at war, and had even suggested she take a lover.

They were using each other, nothing more. This marriage wasn’t real.

As the saying went, a general is bound to die on the battlefield. With her husband Shen Xiunian’s reckless bravery, he’d likely meet that end sooner or later.

His second uncle’s family could see there was no love between them, and with her still childless, they were just waiting for Shen Xiunian to die so they could seize the inheritance and kick her out.

As for children—she couldn’t count on Shen Xiunian for that.

…

Before long, Pei Zhouwu returned with an old porcelain bowl.

Up close, the contents looked like pitifully thin rice porridge with what seemed to be wild vegetables floating in it.

A grand Imperial Uncle, once the mighty general commanding hundreds of thousands, now reduced to this—it was hard not to feel pity.

“If you’re too proud to eat it, then go hungry.”

“How could I be?” Liu Fuying looked up at him sincerely and said, word by word, “This food… I once couldn’t even dream of having it. I wouldn’t dare despise it.”

Hearing this, Pei Zhouwu examined her again.

Her expression was so genuine—it didn’t seem like a lie.

But he still harbored some doubt. Her robes, though torn, were made of expensive fabric—how could someone wearing such clothes be unable to afford even a bowl of porridge?

Still, since they were strangers, hiding the truth was understandable.

Pei Zhouwu let it go, thinking perhaps she was just trying to comfort him.

Liu Fuying said no more and moved to take the bowl.

But her injuries were severe—just slightly moving her right arm made her break into a cold sweat. Her left hand trembled too much to hold it steadily.

Of course, she was also putting on an act.

But she performed it well. Her tightly furrowed brows painted a convincing picture of hardship.

Pei Zhouwu gave her a glance.

If he weren’t kindhearted, he wouldn’t have saved her in the first place. So, keeping to the end what he’d started, he fetched a bamboo stool, placed it by the bed, and sat down.

He sat sideways, eyes looking forward, never glancing at her. With his right hand, he lifted the bowl high toward her.

Liu Fuying could only move one arm—the one that was currently holding her torn robe. If she let go, her chest would definitely be exposed. If he looked at her directly, he’d see something he shouldn’t.

Her expression was full of mixed emotions.

And a little self-mocking.

She had ulterior motives, yet was attracted to his purity and restraint.

As for borrowing a seed for a child—it wasn’t a new thought.

But in a place like Changjing, secrets were hard to keep. Keeping a pretty boy was easy, but having a child with one? That was another matter entirely. What if the father came back for the child? What if the child grew up and met him? She couldn’t exactly kill him to silence him.

That’s why, in every way, Pei Zhouwu was the perfect candidate.

His looks were impeccable, and he was a prisoner who might never see freedom again. No future troubles.

Her only concern was the guards outside. Once she left tomorrow, sneaking back in would be almost impossible.

As she thought, she reached for the bowl and the spoon.

His fingers, holding the bowl, were long and pale. Her eyes drifted to the black chains on his wrists, the sharp contrast between iron and skin.

She looked up at his cool, elegant profile. A breeze came through the window, gently stirring the strands of hair near his ear.

Suddenly, Pei Zhouwu’s eyes widened in surprise.

Liu Fuying had laid her hand gently over his, the one supporting the bowl.