3

Sending her back to her parents’ house was basically the same as sending her back to eat dirt…

The divorce papers he had prepared were now completely useless. Qi Yun sat stiffly in his chair, watching Ye Jiao stuff pastry after pastry into her mouth.

The nuptial wine by the side remained untouched, and the box of peanuts and longans was still neatly arranged.

Ye Jiao clearly had no idea about these traditional customs, while Qi Yun acted as if he had simply forgotten them. He just kept watching her, the look in his eyes gradually softening with warmth.

Dressed in her wedding gown, she ate with full contentment. Only when there were two pieces left on the plate did she pat her hands clean, lean back in her chair, and smile with deep satisfaction.

Perhaps it was because she’d spent too much time buried in the earth in her past life—Ye Jiao was easily satisfied by the simplest things.

She turned to Qi Yun and asked, “I’m full. What happens next?”

Hearing this, a rare gentle smile appeared on Qi Yun’s pale face. He lifted a hand and pointed toward the bed. “Go sleep.”

But the next second, Qi Yun was met with her eyes sparkling with excitement.

The little ginseng spirit cheered inwardly—sleeping on a bed! What a luxury! She’d had enough of being buried in the soil.

Marriage was amazing!

Qi Yun, on the other hand, was confused by how happy she looked. In the end, he could only assume life at the Ye household had been so harsh she’d never even had a soft bed to sleep on.

And thinking about it, that made sense. What kind of family would sell off their daughter for two silver ingots?

This was originally Qi Yun’s bedroom, and the bed was his as well. But knowing he was ill, he had long ago instructed his servants to place a soft couch in the outer room for himself.

The plan had been for him to sleep on the bed and her on the couch—yet somehow, it had ended up the other way around.

Qi Yun blew out the candle, let out a low cough, took off his bright red wedding robes, and crawled under the covers, wrapping himself up tightly.

Ye Jiao, on the other hand, lay on the bed tossing and turning, too excited to sleep until much later.

Which was why she didn’t wake up until the sun was already high in the sky.

Her body was already thin and frail from years of not eating enough, and with how exhausting the wedding process had been, it was no surprise she slept in. But this rest wasn’t just about recovering energy—it was also a much-needed chance for the little ginseng spirit to fully absorb and integrate the original Ye Jiao’s memories.

She felt a bit relieved. Thank goodness she had inherited the memories—without them, she wouldn’t have known how to navigate half the things ahead.

What did surprise her, though, was that even after she woke up, Qi Yun was still fast asleep.

Lifting the covers and getting out of bed, Ye Jiao padded over to the couch where Qi Yun was lying. She crouched down, resting her chin on her hands, and quietly observed him.

Even in sleep, Qi Yun’s face was pale and drawn. He looked so thin, with a sickly air about him that suggested he had been weak since birth.

Ye Jiao knew one thing for sure now—she was married to Qi Yun.

She hadn’t really understood what marriage meant yesterday. But after a night of merging memories, she now did: marriage meant a man and a woman were tied together, their fates bound from that day forward, for better or worse.

And as far as Ye Jiao was concerned, she was quite happy with her husband.

In her memories, Second Sister-in-law Ye used to give her leftover scraps to eat—and only a few bites at that. She’d say girls shouldn’t eat too much, but in truth, all the good food went to her own son behind Ye Jiao’s back.

So now that she’d finally become human, the little ginseng spirit had no intention of returning to that house and fighting children over food. Staying here with Qi Yun was far better. As long as she could eat two pastries like the ones from yesterday each day, life was perfect.

Still, Qi Yun’s health wasn’t good. And now that he was her husband—the man who had kindly given her water—Ye Jiao figured she ought to start thinking about how to keep him alive.

Just then, Qi Yun’s lashes trembled slightly before his eyes slowly opened.

Seeing the bright morning sun streaming in, he was a little startled.

His health had always been poor, and his nights were restless—haunted by dreams and easily disturbed by the slightest sound.

But last night, surprisingly, he’d slept deeply and soundly, all the way until mid-morning. It was the first time in years he’d rested so well.

Qi Yun instinctively turned toward the bed, wanting to see if his new bride was awake—only to be met with a pair of curious eyes staring up at him from the edge of the couch.

Ye Jiao was crouched beside him, her chin propped in her hands. The moment he looked over, she beamed at him.

Qi Yun’s ears turned red in an instant.

The woman was only wearing a bodice and long underpants, the thin straps tied behind her neck, leaving her pale shoulders and arms completely bare. Even with just a quick glance, Qi Yun caught sight of her slender neck and delicate collarbones.

For most married couples, such attire wouldn’t be anything unusual.

But for Qi Yun, it was… a bit much.

He immediately turned his face to the wall and said stiffly, “Put some clothes on.”

The words came out a little too sharp. Even though he’d told himself over and over yesterday not to treat this poor girl with his usual bad temper, the moment caught him off guard. And the second he said it, he regretted it.

Ye Jiao didn’t seem to mind at all. Instead, she leaned forward curiously and gave Qi Yun a little poke. “Why are you talking to the wall?”

After a pause, his voice came again—much gentler this time. “I was talking to you. Go put your clothes on.”

Ye Jiao gave the wall another glance, confirming that no one was hiding there, then obediently got up. She grabbed the clothes the bridal attendant had left by the cabinet and started putting them on. Following the memory she’d inherited, she even tried to style her hair like a proper married woman.

It took her two tries, but on the third attempt, she finally got it right. The little ginseng spirit gave herself silent praise—clever and talented, she thought with satisfaction.

But all that rustling and shifting made Qi Yun’s ears burn red again.

Only when everything finally went quiet did he cautiously emerge from beneath the covers, trying his best to keep a straight face. The first thing he saw was Ye Jiao sitting at the table, happily preparing to eat the leftover pastries from yesterday.

Qi Yun quickly said, “Don’t eat those. Otherwise, you won’t have room for lunch.”

The moment Ye Jiao heard that, she understood—lunch must be even tastier than the pastries. She immediately set them aside, treating the little snacks she’d just been treasuring like they were worthless, and cheerfully urged Qi Yun to hurry up and eat lunch.

Qi Yun couldn’t even find the energy to be annoyed. He simply got dressed quickly and took Ye Jiao to rinse their mouths and wash up before the two of them finally stepped out of the room together.

No sooner had they exited than Ye Jiao spotted two figures dashing off like startled rabbits.

She tilted her head and asked, “Who were they?”

Qi Yun glanced in the direction they ran. “That’s Tiezi and Xiaosu—tenant farmers’ children who usually help out around here.”

Ye Jiao let out a soft laugh. “Why’d they run like that?”

Qi Yun lowered his gaze slightly, his voice calm. “In this house, everyone runs when they see me.”

He was used to it. Constant illness had left him pale and hollow-eyed, with a cold temperament that only made people avoid him more. Other than his mother, Madam Liu, the rest of the household either feared him or couldn’t be bothered with him.

But Ye Jiao tilted her head in thought, pondering his words for quite a while. Then, as they walked through the small garden, she suddenly quickened her pace—not following behind Qi Yun anymore, but stepping right up beside him.

Just as Qi Yun was about to ask what she was doing, he felt something soft slip into his palm.

It was her hand.

Warm. Soft. Smooth—like the finest silk.

Qi Yun paused mid-step, lowered his gaze, and looked at their hands, gently clasped together. His eyes slowly traveled up to Ye Jiao’s face.

He wanted to ask what she was doing, but the moment he met her smiling eyes, all his questions vanished.

Qi Yun pressed his pale lips together, suddenly realizing—they were married now. Holding his wife’s hand was perfectly natural.

Besides, the Ye family had treated her terribly. They sold her off, made her sleep on the ground, eat dirt—there was no going back for her. It was only right that he treated her better now.

She’s my wife. My wife. My wife…

After repeating that to himself a few times, Qi Yun finally summoned the courage to tighten his hold on her soft little hand and resumed walking.

What he didn’t notice, though, was that the usual breathlessness he felt after just a few steps didn’t hit him this time. Today, he strolled slowly but steadily all the way to the main hall. His face was still pale, yes—but there was no cold sweat, no wheezing.

Ye Jiao, on the other hand, looked very pleased, gently swinging their joined hands as they walked.

His body was frail, and she didn’t yet understand what kind of medicine this world used. But as a ginseng spirit, her essence naturally held healing properties. For now, she’d start by nourishing him with herself.

Healing starts with holding hands.

=^_^=