Zhou Song pushed open the door. Inside, warmed by a lit brazier, the room felt much cozier than the chill outside. He stepped in and closed the door behind him, blocking out the creeping cold air.

Shen Qingzhu, leaning against the headboard with a book, looked up at the sound and said, “I heard it quiet outside. Have all the guests gone?”

“Yes, no one’s left.” Zhou Song walked over and handed him a bowl of chicken soup. “Are you hungry? Have some soup first. If you want something else, I can make it.”

He hadn’t expected things to go on so late. Those guys who rarely got to mess with him had made the most of this chance, and one by one, they wouldn’t let him leave.

Shen Qingzhu took the soup and shook his head. “Auntie brought plenty of food earlier, and I ate quite a bit. I’m not hungry at all; just some soup will be fine.” Smelling the alcohol on Zhou Song, he added, “You must have drunk a lot. Are you uncomfortable?”

“No, I’m fine. They were the ones who got drunk.” Zhou Song wasn’t used to drinking so much, and he had worried he might get drunk and embarrass himself in front of Kun Ze, but surprisingly, he’d stayed clear-headed till the end. He must have a decent tolerance, after all.

Seeing that Zhou Song looked quite sober, Shen Qingzhu relaxed and took a sip of the soup. He noticed Zhou Song still standing there stiffly and smiled up at him, “Why are you just standing? Sit down.”

Zhou Song snapped out of his daze, feeling a bit flustered as he sat on the edge of the bed, instinctively keeping a little distance out of courtesy.

Shen Qingzhu said nothing more and continued drinking his soup.

The room was silent until he finished the bowl. Zhou Song took it from him, saying softly, “It’s time to drink the nuptial wine.”

Shen Qingzhu wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and turned to look at him, amused. So that was why Zhou Song had been sitting here all this time, waiting for this moment.

He didn’t tease him and simply stood up, heading to the table. “Alright, let’s drink.”

Zhou Song quickly followed, his face lighting up with joy.

Setting down the soup bowl, Zhou Song picked up the wine pot and filled two small cups, each about eight-tenths full, handing one to Kun Ze.

Shen Qingzhu reached out to take it, their fingertips brushing. He felt Zhou Song tense up again and, with a soft laugh, wrapped his arm around Zhou Song’s. “Well, you’re not moving. Are we drinking or not?”

Zhou Song finally reacted, quickly following Shen Qingzhu’s lead as they linked arms and brought the cups closer. Looking into Kun Ze’s face so close, Zhou Song’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. He awkwardly downed the wine in one gulp, going along with Shen Qingzhu’s lead.

After placing his cup down, he glanced at Shen Qingzhu, whose lips had turned a bit rosier after drinking. Looking at him made Zhou Song feel warm all over. Despite having drunk all afternoon without getting tipsy, this small cup was enough to make him feel flushed.

Shen Qingzhu set down his cup and, noticing Zhou Song still staring blankly at him, thought to himself, What a fool. He turned and sat back down on the bed, calling, “Zhou Song, come here.”

Zhou Song snapped back to reality, placed his cup down, and followed him to the bed, sitting down when Kun Ze patted the spot beside him.

And then… he didn’t make any further moves.

Shen Qingzhu looked at him. The tall Qian Yuan sat upright beside him, even at this moment still keeping a polite distance.

Feeling amused and a bit helpless, Shen Qingzhu scooted closer, leaning his soft body against Zhou Song, who immediately stiffened. Amused, Shen Qingzhu let himself melt against that solid body and whispered, “Zhou Song, tonight is our wedding night…”

Already flustered from the warm weight of Kun Ze leaning against him, Zhou Song’s face flushed even hotter. His gaze darted around, careful not to look directly at Shen Qingzhu, yet he instinctively wrapped an arm around him, unwilling to make him feel neglected.

Finding his restraint endearing, Shen Qingzhu lifted his hand to gently trace along Zhou Song’s chin, turning his face with a bit of pressure. Zhou Song complied easily, and Shen Qingzhu met his gaze, feigning a touch of grievance. “Then why won’t you look at me? Could it be…you’re not pleased with me?”

“I am!” Zhou Song hurriedly blurted out before he could finish. He quickly took Shen Qingzhu’s hand into his own, careful not to press too hard and hurt his soft, delicate skin. “I’m just afraid of offending you…”

With a slight smile in his eyes, Shen Qingzhu replied softly, “Is that true?”

“It’s true.” Zhou Song’s answer was immediate and earnest.

Shen Qingzhu chuckled, leaning his face into Zhou Song’s shoulder. Zhou Song didn’t understand why he was laughing, but he didn’t mind. He only knew that Kun Ze was happy, and as long as Kun Ze was happy, so was he.

Once Shen Qingzhu had laughed enough, he lifted his face, his eyes still sparkling with amusement. Gently, he hooked his fingers under Zhou Song’s chin and leaned in to kiss him lightly on the corner of his mouth.

This time, Zhou Song froze entirely, sitting there like a stone, completely unable to process what had just happened.

“You’re such a fool…” Shen Qingzhu said with a smile, seeing Zhou Song’s dazed look. Fine, if he doesn’t know how to take the lead, then I will.

With this thought, he wrapped his arms around Qian Yuan’s neck and leaned in to kiss him again, this time lingering a bit longer as he softly bit his lower lip.

Zhou Song’s body shuddered as he looked down to see Kun Ze’s slightly closed eyes, his lashes fluttering, showing that he wasn’t as composed as he seemed. He, too, was nervous.

Zhou Song’s gaze darkened as he encircled Kun Ze with his arms, returning the kiss even deeper. How could he let the person he treasured so much take the lead and drop his reserve? That was his own responsibility.

Though Zhou Song was inexperienced, his instincts took over. The kiss alone left Shen Qingzhu breathless, until he lightly tapped Zhou Song’s shoulder in surrender.

Zhou Song pulled back, both of them breathing heavily, their faces close as their breaths mingled. Cupping Shen Qingzhu’s cheeks, he looked into his eyes and said, “Qingzhu, I will cherish you, love you, and care for you forever. You’ll never regret marrying me.”

Shen Qingzhu met his gaze, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Good.”

Unable to resist any longer, Zhou Song leaned in for another kiss, his fingers working to untie Kun Ze’s robe, laying him down onto the vibrant red bedding behind them.

The fragrance of orchid mingling with pine filled the room, like the blending of their hearts.

When Shen Qingzhu opened his eyes, the daylight was already bright. His mind was foggy, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure where he was.

After a while, he remembered and turned his head to look beside him, only to find the space empty. Moving slightly, his body ached with soreness and fatigue, so he decided to stay still.

His stomach grumbled with hunger, but he didn’t feel like moving. The one responsible for his current state was nowhere to be found, which left him a bit annoyed. Pulling the blanket up over his head, he let out a rare, slightly childish huff.

The door creaked open, and someone entered, carefully closing it before approaching the bed.

Seeing only a bundled blanket, Zhou Song hesitated before bending down to gently pull it back, worried that Shen Qingzhu might suffocate himself but not wanting to disturb him. He gingerly tugged on the blanket, bit by bit.

Hidden under the covers, Shen Qingzhu, initially sulking, was amused by Zhou Song’s cautious movements.

Hearing Shen Qingzhu chuckle, Zhou Song paused, realizing he was awake. He relaxed, pulling the blanket down to reveal Shen Qingzhu’s face. “How long have you been awake?”

Shen Qingzhu raised an eyebrow. “Before you came in.”

Relieved that he hadn’t woken him, Zhou Song looked at him, then lowered his eyes and asked, “Are… are you feeling alright?”

Though they were now officially wed, Zhou Song’s ears reddened as he awkwardly asked, as if he were the one who’d been “handled.” Shen Qingzhu smiled gently, “My waist is sore, and I’m achy.”

Hearing this, Zhou Song panicked, unsure of what to do. He nervously considered pulling back the blanket to check on him but worried he might catch a chill. “Then… should I get a doctor?”

Shen Qingzhu shook his head, his peach blossom eyes filled with a teasing gleam. “Just give me a massage.”

Zhou Song froze, knowing he was being teased again, but after a moment’s hesitation, he rubbed his hands together to warm them, then gently reached under the blanket, pausing briefly as he touched Shen Qingzhu’s smooth skin. Slowly, he began to massage.

Kun Ze let out a soft sound, which only made Zhou Song blush harder.

The ache in his waist eased under the warmth of Zhou Song’s large hand, and Shen Qingzhu closed his eyes in enjoyment. But soon, his stomach growled, reminding them that he’d had only a bowl of soup last night before their “eventful” evening.

Hearing his stomach, Zhou Song reluctantly withdrew his hand and coaxed, “I made some food. Want to eat a bit before resting more?”

Shen Qingzhu didn’t mind the suggestion, but he felt too lazy to move. Sticking out his arms, he said, “Help me dress.”

Seeing Kun Ze’s bare, fair arms, Zhou Song immediately bent down to bundle him up, blushing as he agreed, “Alright.”

Contentedly, Shen Qingzhu let Zhou Song dress him piece by piece, occasionally reaching up to tweak his reddened earlobe, chuckling to himself as Zhou Song avoided eye contact, clearly flustered yet obedient.

Once dressed, Zhou Song seated Shen Qingzhu in front of the mirror to comb his hair, then went out to bring in a basin of warm water for him to wash his face.

After securing his long, ink-black hair, Shen Qingzhu leaned over the basin to wash his face. His hair slipped down but was caught by Zhou Song’s hand.

Turning to look, Shen Qingzhu saw him standing at his side and, remembering something, smiled without speaking and continued washing.

Perhaps sensing the same memory, Zhou Song thought of the day they met by the river, where Kun Ze washed his face, and he’d held his hair for him. Back then, they had been strangers, and even a glance at Kun Ze’s exposed nape felt intrusive. But now…

Zhou Song’s gaze drifted to that white nape, where his own mark now claimed it, a reminder of how close they had become.

Straightening up, Shen Qingzhu took the towel Zhou Song handed him and wiped his face. “I almost forgot. Now that we’re married, I should wear my hair up.”

Only unmarried Kun Ze wore their hair in a ponytail.

Zhou Song, still holding the ends of his hair, shook his head gently. “No need to worry about that. Wear it however you like.”

Shen Qingzhu set the towel down, turned to face him, and raised an eyebrow. “Won’t people gossip that your bride is still dressed like a boy, saying he’s restless?”

Zhou Song frowned. “Don’t say that about yourself, and don’t bother with what others say.”

Shen Qingzhu didn’t actually care about what people thought. He just wanted to hear Zhou Song’s reaction. Stepping closer, he placed a hand on Zhou Song’s collar and stroked it lightly. “Does my husband truly not care?”

Whatever he had asked, Zhou Song didn’t quite register, hearing only the word “husband.” His lashes quivered as he took Shen Qingzhu’s hand, “Wh-what did you call me?”

Shen Qingzhu’s amused laugh was back as he leaned close to his ear, whispering, “Husband.”

Before he’d finished saying it, Zhou Song wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling them close, his breathing momentarily quickening.

Pleased, Shen Qingzhu stepped back with a grin. “Husband, my waist is still sore. I can’t take much more.”

Unable to resist, Zhou Song closed his eyes, holding back the urge to draw him closer, and finally let go with a deep breath. “Aren’t you hungry? I’ll go get the food.”

As he left in a bit of a rush, Shen Qingzhu chuckled, finding teasing such an honest man thoroughly amusing.

Despite all the flustering, Zhou Song didn’t want him to stay hungry long and soon returned, carrying the food.

Knowing Shen Qingzhu liked the sweet potato tea Aunt Qian made last time, he had prepared sweet potato porridge, a plate of his own pickled vegetables, steamed egg custard, and a chicken leg.

Starving by now, Shen Qingzhu sat at the table, savoring the soft, fragrant porridge. “Did you eat yet?”

Zhou Song nodded. “I had a bit of noodle soup after drinking the remaining chicken broth.”

The soup was gone, but Zhou Song hadn’t forgotten to save him the chicken leg. Warmed by the thought, Shen Qingzhu turned the spoon of egg custard and held it to Zhou Song’s mouth, “Have a bite.”

Zhou Song hesitated before, under Shen Qingzhu’s gentle gaze, leaning down to accept the egg custard. Then he watched as Shen Qingzhu took another spoonful, eating it without a hint of discomfort over sharing the spoon.

Zhou Song’s eyes softened as he looked at him, his gaze fixed on the one person who filled his heart entirely.