Chapter 19: A Spring Dream

“What do you mean I’m not being good?” Wen Shuyu scooped another spoonful of mango into her mouth. “If you mean the mango, it’s fine now.”

After high school, she’d been testing her limits with allergy tolerance. Basically, she’d figured out that if she just kept eating it little by little, she’d get used to it. Now she had it down to a science—no big green mangoes, and as long as it didn’t touch her lips, she was good.

For years, not a single reaction.

But at home, she still played it safe. Jiang Huaiyu didn’t know about her little experiment, which was understandable.

“And why do I have to call you ‘gege’? We were born on the same day!” Wen Shuyu complained. Who wants to be bossed around forever?

“You had too much mango today. Be good, Fishy,” Jiang Huaiyu said, swiftly taking her pudding.

Wen Shuyu tried to snatch it back, but with their height difference, she couldn’t reach. “What happens if I’m not good? Mom and Dad aren’t here! Ha!”

Undeterred, she turned to grab a piece of mango mochi from the table.

But before it even reached her mouth, Jiang Huaiyu took that too.

“Fishy, be good, okay?”

His voice was so close, Wen Shuyu froze on the spot. When had he moved so close behind her? His breath, cool yet warm at the same time, lingered on her neck and shoulder.

This wasn’t like when they dozed off in the car—this time, they were both wide awake. No barriers between them.

He was pressed up against her back, and she could feel the vibration of his chest as he spoke.

They weren’t kids anymore.

The moment felt dangerously intimate, and Jiang Huaiyu’s tone carried an unmistakable hint of affection.

Wen Shuyu didn’t dare turn around. She mumbled quietly, “What happens if I’m not good?”

“If you’re not good, the big bad wolf will come and get you,” he teased, like an adult scaring a little child.

“I’m not three years old.”

“To me, you’re still my three-year-old Fishy,” Jiang Huaiyu sighed softly. She had always been his to spoil, ever since they were little.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he leaned against the table, picking up the pudding and eating it—with the same spoon she had used.

The scent of roses lingered around her, stirring something restless inside him. He irritably undid two buttons of his shirt, trying to focus on anything else.

It was already late by the time they finished up. After washing up, they crawled into bed. Jiang Huaiyu turned off the lights, plunging the room into darkness.

Wen Shuyu lay there, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. She sighed, tossing and turning.

“What are you sighing about?” Jiang Huaiyu asked.

“It’s weird. Sleeping in the same bed as you,” she admitted. That one “Huaiyu-gege” she’d called him earlier had shifted their dynamic back to ten years ago.

“So, can you go sleep in the guest room?”

Jiang Huaiyu: …

He had just moved in a couple of days ago and was already getting kicked out.

“No, Fishy. We’re married now, and that’s not going to change. Besides, we’re going to be living together for a long time. Why don’t we try being a real couple? If it works, great. If not, then we’ll see.”

He flatly rejected her request.

Real couple mode? One minute she was his “little sister,” and the next they were “husband and wife.”

Wen Shuyu turned to face him in the darkness, though she couldn’t make out his expression. “Jiang Huaiyu…”

She hesitated.

But after a moment, she gave up. “Never mind. Let’s just do as you say.”

Jiang Huaiyu’s voice was gentle, coaxing. “What were you going to say?”

The dim, intimate atmosphere made Wen Shuyu feel safe. With no one watching her, her guard slowly dropped. “I was going to ask… do you ever feel… tempted by me? You know, in that way? But thinking about it now, it seems silly. You’re not someone who thinks with your lower half.”

Jiang Huaiyu took a deep breath. Of course he was tempted. More than he cared to admit.

How could he answer? Any response felt like a trap. “I don’t know. Should we find out?”

Wen Shuyu turned back to face the ceiling, chuckling bitterly. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. It would just feel too strange, doing something like that with you.”

“Who ever grows up calling someone ‘gege’ and then does… those things with him?” Wen Shuyu mused, more to herself than to him.

Then, with a sudden thought, she added, “Jiang Huaiyu, I did say something wrong earlier. You don’t hold the same place in my heart as my senior sister or Yingying, but compared to Lawyer Cheng… well, you’re still a bit higher up.”

Jiang Huaiyu turned his back to her, feigning indifference. “What an honor for me. Now, go to sleep, wife. Goodnight.”

He had to make sure Wen Shuyu didn’t notice the embarrassing reaction of his “brother” down below.

As the sound of Wen Shuyu’s soft, even breathing filled the room, Jiang Huaiyu quietly slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom. He knew sharing the bed with her was its own form of torment, but if they slept in separate rooms, who knew how long it would take for things to progress?

When he returned, still damp from the bathroom, he heard her mumbling in her sleep, “It’s so itchy…”

Sure enough, she’d ended up having an allergic reaction. Her stubbornness was only hurting herself.

Jiang Huaiyu quickly turned on the bedside lamp, revealing Wen Shuyu scratching at her arms and torso. Red welts had already appeared, and her skin showed a few scratch marks.

“Don’t scratch. You’ll break the skin,” he gently scolded, holding her wrists to stop her.

She pouted, struggling. “But it’s so itchy!”

Her voice, soft and sweet, was like a sticky, warm mochi.

“Be good, Fishy. I’ll get the medicine.” Jiang Huaiyu dashed to the living room, rummaged through the medicine cabinet, and came back with two types of cream and a glass of warm water.

When he returned, Wen Shuyu was still scratching, with more red marks now on her collarbone.

“Take the medicine, and once we put on the cream, it won’t itch anymore,” he reassured her.

Wen Shuyu obediently took the pills, then applied the cooling gel to her arms, face, and collarbone. But she struggled with her back—she just couldn’t reach.

Jiang Huaiyu noticed this little dilemma.

“I’ll help you,” he offered, taking the ointment from her hands.

Still squirming from the itching, Wen Shuyu warned him, “You can only look at my back, nowhere else!”

Jiang Huaiyu chuckled, “As you wish, wife.”

“Close your eyes,” Wen Shuyu ordered, slipping the straps of her nightgown down and lying face-down on the bed.

“Okay, you can start.”

Her once smooth, pale back was now covered in red rashes. Jiang Huaiyu’s brows furrowed into deep worry lines. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault for teasing you earlier.”

Wen Shuyu’s muffled voice came from beneath the pillow. “Yeah, it’s your fault. If you’d just let me drink that juice at lunch, this wouldn’t have happened.”

The cool ointment soothed the itching, while Jiang Huaiyu’s warm fingers gently massaged her back, tracing circles across her skin. The itchiness faded, but another sensation was stirring in him.

In the warm, golden glow of the nightlight, Jiang Huaiyu couldn’t help but notice her ears turning a deep red, the blush spreading down to her cheeks.

His eyes drifted lower—her smooth, bare shoulders were just as pale as her back.

His face flushed red.

Forcing himself to look away, he quickly finished applying the ointment and covered her with the silk blanket.

“There. If it still itches, let me know.”

But Wen Shuyu didn’t respond. The exhaustion of the day had finally caught up with her, and she’d fallen asleep, face-down on the bed.

Jiang Huaiyu couldn’t resist gently smoothing her furrowed brow, whispering, “Goodnight, wife.”

He kissed her cheek softly. She was so warm, so soft. So easy to spoil.

He felt like a thief, sneaking a kiss on her cheek while the world slept around them.

Silver moonlight poured through the window, dancing with the breeze that swayed the curtains.

Jiang Huaiyu suddenly felt someone on top of him. His eyes shot open, and there she was, Wen Shuyu lying across his chest.

Her almond-shaped eyes, sparkling with mischief, blinked at him. “Huaiyu-gege.”

Her voice was as sweet as honey, dripping with charm.

She reached up, unbuttoning his pajama top. Her soft hands barely grazed his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

He wanted to stop her, but it was like he was under a spell—he couldn’t move, couldn’t resist as she teased him.

At some point, Wen Shuyu’s own nightgown had slipped off, revealing her smooth, bare shoulders and delicate butterfly bones. She looked just as she had before he turned off the lights.

Reason told him to stop.

But desire was winning. He locked his gaze on her flushed cheeks and the redness of her lips.

Giving in, Jiang Huaiyu flipped her onto her back, pinning her beneath him as he finally let his desires take over.

His lips found hers—hot and soft, just as he’d dreamed. The room spun, and the kiss felt like it had swept him into a dream, yet it was all so real.

Wen Shuyu clung to him, pulling him closer, her mouth opening eagerly as he deepened the kiss.

Their lips and tongues intertwined, breathing mingling, as the room filled with the sound of kisses and breathless sighs.

Wen Shuyu moaned, “Ah, husband, give it to me.”

“Husband…”

Her voice was intoxicating, pulling him deeper and deeper, until he couldn’t wait any longer.

“Jiang Huaiyu, what’s wrong?”

“Jiang Huaiyu.”

A familiar voice pulled him from the dream. He blinked, waking up to see Wen Shuyu’s face—this time, completely devoid of desire. Just cold indifference.

“What’s going on?” His voice was raspy, the remnants of sleep still clinging to it.

Wen Shuyu pulled back the covers. “You were panting in your sleep. What were you dreaming about? Running a marathon or being chased?”

“I dreamt… of having sex with you,” Jiang Huaiyu blurted out before he fully woke up.

Her face froze in shock, eyes darting awkwardly around the room.

“Just kidding,” he fumbled. “I was running a marathon. Sprinting for the finish.”

His words stumbled and tripped over themselves, and even he wasn’t convinced.

“Geez, you scared me.” Wen Shuyu let out a relieved sigh.

For a moment, she’d thought he’d been having the same kind of dream she was. His expression really had seemed too close for comfort.

Jiang Huaiyu narrowed his eyes, his voice teasing, “And what if I was dreaming about that?”

Wen Shuyu, over her initial embarrassment, shrugged. “If you were, you were. It’s not like it was real.”

Jiang Huaiyu’s smirk deepened. “Well, it might be real one day. Let’s not speak too soon. We’ve got plenty of time.”

“Yeah, the future is full of possibilities. Who knows what might happen?

Sharing the same bed, there’s always a chance that one day, after a few too many drinks, things could take an unexpected turn.

A week passed quickly, and Wen Shuyu had gotten used to having someone beside her at night. The way they were trying out this whole ‘couple’ thing wasn’t much different from how they normally interacted.

One day, while collecting clothes from the dryer, she returned to the room with an armful of soft, clean laundry. As she opened the closet and saw the bottom drawer, a thought suddenly crossed her mind—where was the underwear she’d worn during her last period?

It had been over a week, and she was only now remembering. She vaguely recalled soaking them in a basin, but then… nothing.

The housekeeper wouldn’t touch personal items, and while her parents spoiled her, they weren’t without boundaries. From a young age, Wen Shuyu had gotten used to doing her own laundry.

She pulled open the drawer, and there it was—her underwear neatly folded, along with the rest of her undergarments. That’s when it hit her. Since moving in together, she hadn’t done the laundry at all—not even the bloodstained underwear.

The housekeeper had taken time off, and Jiang Huaiyu was in charge of dinner that night. Wen Shuyu walked into the kitchen. “Jiang Huaiyu, did you wash my clothes?”

“Yeah,” he answered, stirring the chicken in the pan. The delicious aroma filled the room, tickling Wen Shuyu’s nose.

She leaned against the doorframe, watching as the setting sun reflected off the kitchen window, casting a soft glow on Jiang Huaiyu’s profile. He looked calm and composed, lips pressed together with quiet concentration, his long eyelashes catching the warm light.

The kitchen was bathed in the glow of the sunset, and there stood Jiang Huaiyu, his apron adding a hint of domesticity to his otherwise dignified demeanor.

Wen Shuyu imagined him scrubbing her bloodstained underwear, the mental image bringing a smile to her lips. “Thanks, but you really don’t have to do that. It’s… a bit awkward.”

She couldn’t help but laugh.

Jiang Huaiyu turned his head at the sound of her laugh. What he saw was Wen Shuyu smiling softly, her eyes curved in amusement, with a golden sparkle in her pupils as they rested on him.

She was staring at him, but it wasn’t just any kind of look. It was the simple, quiet gaze he had dreamed of so many times—the kind that made their shared life together feel beautifully ordinary.

In truth, as long as Wen Shuyu was part of that life, it was perfect.

Jiang Huaiyu wiped his hands on a towel, walked over, and ruffled her hair. “It’s not awkward, Yuyu. You should get used to this, and learn to make good use of me, alright?”

“Make good use of you?” Wen Shuyu blinked at his odd phrasing, and without thinking, she nodded.

Jiang Huaiyu chuckled. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

Without hesitating, Wen Shuyu blurted out, “Because you’re handsome.”

Her words came out so easily, so naturally, that there was no doubting their sincerity.

Seeing Jiang Huaiyu’s smile, and the blush creeping up his ears, she quickly tried to backtrack. “It’s not just me saying it—Yingying and Fu Qingzi used to say it all the time back in school. They were always talking about how good-looking you were. Fu Qingzi even saw me as her imaginary rival back then. Who said only women could be femme fatales? There are guys like you too, you know.”

Back in the day, Shen Ruoying used to drag her into endless conversations about Jiang Huaiyu. Who was writing him love letters this time, and how much Fu Qingzi adored him. She even wondered why Jiang Huaiyu and Wen Shuyu, childhood friends, barely spoke to each other—let alone acted like the typical bickering frenemies.

But some secrets are meant to stay buried deep.

In high school, they might not have exchanged more than a word a day. Jiang Huaiyu had been asked by his family to look after her and wait for her after school. But waiting was all he did—they never actually talked.

Jiang Huaiyu lowered his gaze and gently said, “My bad, Yuyu. Wife dearest, could you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

Wen Shuyu glanced at the air conditioning vent. It was just a breeze, but why did she feel goosebumps creeping up her arms?

“Ugh, male temptress.”

After dinner, when Wen Shuyu tried to clear the table, Jiang Huaiyu stopped her. She leaned against the counter, laughing to herself.

“What’s so funny?”

“I just remembered how, when we were kids, I dragged you into playing house with me. You didn’t want to, but in the end, you gave in and played the dad, while I was the mom. Even back then, you wouldn’t let me do any chores. Our esteemed CEO Jiang has always had the potential to be the perfect husband.”

How did that old song go? “The way we were, little versions of ourselves, holding small hands and guarding our little forever.”

She hummed the tune softly.

Jiang Huaiyu put down the dishcloth and, after some hesitation, said, “Wife, how about we go on a date tomorrow? Let’s experience what it feels like to actually date, okay?”

He had originally wanted to wait until after a proper confession, but today’s atmosphere was just too perfect. He couldn’t hold back any longer.

Real or not, it didn’t matter anymore.

“Okay,” Wen Shuyu agreed. “I’ll leave the date plans… to you, hubby.”

That title—’hubby’—it was a small step, but a crucial one.

She had called him ‘hubby.’

Jiang Huaiyu felt like fireworks had just exploded in his mind, lighting up the dark night sky. He clenched his fists, struggling to contain his excitement, fighting the urge to scoop her up in his arms.

“What’s wrong with you, Jiang Huaiyu?” she asked, noticing the wide smile on his face that he just couldn’t hide.

Her use of his full name brought him back to reality.

He felt like a giddy teenager, thrilled beyond measure just because Wen Shuyu had called him ‘hubby.’

It was as if, after a long period of hunger, he’d finally been handed a simple white bun, and that alone made him content.

“I’ll make sure to plan everything perfectly,” he said, “and it’ll be a thousand times better than that other guy.”

He was going to outdo Lu Yunheng in every way possible.”