“Zhou Song.” Shen Qingzhu, feeling content after his meal, decided it was time to discuss some matters.

Zhou Song, who had been addressed as “husband” all morning, was a little caught off guard by Shen Qingzhu’s sudden direct call of his name. He straightened his posture instinctively, feeling a strange tension he couldn’t quite place.

Shen Qingzhu propped his chin up with his hand, resting his elbow on the table, and asked, “Yesterday… why didn’t you bond with me?”

Unlike Middle Types, for Kun Ze and Qian Yuan to truly belong to each other, they had to bond, leaving each other’s scent marks on their bodies. This would prevent any disturbances during the Rainy Period or Faith Period in the future.

They had done everything else, but just as the final step was nearing, Zhou Song had hesitated and, in the end, didn’t go through with the bond.

At the time, Shen Qingzhu had been too preoccupied to ask, but now, he needed an answer.

Zhou Song paused at the question, lowering his eyes without a word.

Seeing his silence, clearly indicating an unwillingness to answer, Shen Qingzhu’s expression grew slightly cold. He lowered his hand and sat up straight, saying, “I always felt that once we’re married, no matter what happens, you and I should be of one mind. Now, by refusing to bond, are you perhaps still holding on to other thoughts?”

“No, it’s not that,” Zhou Song hurriedly countered, hearing the displeasure in Shen Qingzhu’s tone. “It’s just… just…”

He struggled to articulate his feelings, stammering without finding the right words. Shen Qingzhu’s face darkened, and he stood up. “If you don’t want to explain, then I won’t press you. I’m out of line and shouldn’t interfere in your matters.”

Seeing Shen Qingzhu upset and turning to leave, Zhou Song panicked. He quickly stood up and grabbed Shen Qingzhu’s hand. “Qingzhu, I really don’t want to refuse the bond with you!”

Shen Qingzhu halted, the corners of his lips twitching slightly before falling back into a neutral expression. He turned back, his face unreadable. “Then why?”

Zhou Song observed Shen Qingzhu’s expression carefully, clasping his hand tightly in his own. Seeing that Shen Qingzhu didn’t pull away, he relaxed a little and, afraid to stay silent any longer, began explaining softly, “Once a Qian Yuan and Kun Ze bond… there will be a pregnancy…”

Kun Ze, already more fertile than Middle Types, would, especially when paired with a Qian Yuan, inevitably end up pregnant after bonding. Given the way they had been lured into passion by each other’s scent yesterday, pregnancy was certain.

Shen Qingzhu blinked in surprise, not expecting this reason. “So what? Don’t you… want children?”

Given Zhou Song’s experiences, he should, if anything, crave a complete family more than anyone else. Why wouldn’t he want Shen Qingzhu to have a child?

Zhou Song let out a soft sigh and moved closer, gently embracing Shen Qingzhu, running his hand through his hair. “I can’t bear the thought of you going through such suffering…”

Especially after hearing Liu Fang’s painful cries during childbirth, Zhou Song couldn’t bear the thought of his own Kun Ze enduring such hardship. The idea alone pained him.

Hearing Zhou Song’s explanation, Shen Qingzhu stayed silent for a long while, breathing in the scent of pine from Zhou Song that put him at ease, feeling the gentle strokes on his hair.

Shen Qingzhu had sensed Zhou Song’s tenderness toward him for a long time, as if he were some kind of precious porcelain that would break at the slightest touch. Back then, he had assumed this was just the protectiveness of a Qian Yuan newly in love, expecting it to fade with time.

But instead, Zhou Song’s care only seemed to have deepened. He had reached the point of avoiding bonding, a step he’d thought inevitable, just to spare him from pregnancy.

Even Shen Qingzhu’s own mother, who always doted on him, had said that although pregnancy could be painful, it was something everyone went through, and the reward outweighed the suffering.

Yet here was a man who had never experienced pregnancy himself, a Qian Yuan, telling him he couldn’t bear to let him go through it, even letting this overcome his natural urge to bond.

Shen Qingzhu opened his mouth, wanting to tell this silly man that pregnancy wasn’t too difficult for Kun Ze, and that childbirth, if anything, was easier for them than for Middle Types. There was no need for such worry.

But in the end, he said nothing. He simply raised his hand, wrapped it around Zhou Song’s broad shoulder, and gave him a reassuring pat.

Noticing this comforting gesture, Zhou Song pulled back slightly and looked into his eyes, hesitantly asking, “Qingzhu, are you angry with me?”

The large, gentle “big dog” demeanor he had softened, and his usually bright eyes lost their usual sparkle. Shen Qingzhu smiled, patting Zhou Song’s head. “No, I was just teasing you.”

Hearing this, Zhou Song relaxed and leaned into Shen Qingzhu’s hand, rubbing his head slightly. “I’m not great with words, so if I ever upset you, feel free to scold or hit me, but don’t ignore me like that.”

Shen Qingzhu’s hand slid to Zhou Song’s cheek, his thumb brushing softly over it as he chuckled, “Hit you? You’re alright with that?”

Zhou Song nodded. “I’m thick-skinned. I can take it.”

Shen Qingzhu couldn’t help but laugh out loud. He leaned into Zhou Song’s embrace, his cheek brushing against Zhou Song’s neck, feeling his pulse beat. “I wouldn’t hit you; your thick skin would hurt my hand.”

“Then use a broom,” Zhou Song said earnestly. “When I was mischievous as a child, my mother would hit me with a broom.”

“You were mischievous as a child?” Shen Qingzhu’s interest was piqued, raising his head. He had assumed Zhou Song’s character had always been reserved due to his early hardships.

“Mm. After we moved to the East Village, life gradually improved, and I became a little more outgoing. As a boy, I had my wild moments.” Talking about it, Zhou Song looked a bit embarrassed.

Shen Qingzhu found this amusing and was about to ask more about Zhou Song’s mischief when he suddenly shivered from the cold.

Zhou Song instinctively pulled him closer, frowning. “Are you wearing too little?”

He glanced at the stove in the room; he had added more coal in the morning, so it shouldn’t have gone out.

Thinking of something, he settled Shen Qingzhu near the stove and opened the door. “It’s snowing.”

He had suspected it might snow when he noticed the heavy sky that morning.

Surprised, Shen Qingzhu raised an eyebrow and got up to go look. But Zhou Song put down the curtain to block him. “It’s too cold. Let’s add another layer.”

Zhou Song took out his cloak and wrapped it around him, adding a fox-fur scarf. “We have some rabbit pelts; I’ll make you another cloak. It’ll be warmer.”

Bundled up in layers, Shen Qingzhu now looked like a ball. Although he felt it was a bit much, he quietly accepted Zhou Song’s attentiveness, standing still as Zhou Song adjusted his clothes.

Finally satisfied, Zhou Song lifted the curtain, allowing Shen Qingzhu to step outside to see the snow.

Outside, snow had silently blanketed everything in a thin layer. Shen Qingzhu stood under the eaves, reaching out to catch a snowflake on his finger. Feeling its coolness, he sighed. “The last time I saw snow, I was still in the capital.”

At that time, his parents and older sister had still been with him. They had gone to admire the plum blossoms together. Before they left, his mother had fussed over him just like Zhou Song had, layering him with clothes, promising to get him more warm clothing the next year.

It was a pity she would never see this year’s snow.

His outstretched hand was gently held by a warm one, pulling him back from his thoughts.

Zhou Song grasped Shen Qingzhu’s hand, warming it in his own palms without asking what had made him look so sad. “It’s too cold; don’t freeze your hands.”

Shen Qingzhu curled his fingers, not pulling his hand away, and smiled. “Husband, let’s have a hot pot for lunch. It’s the best thing on a snowy day.”

Even though he’d heard this term of endearment before, it still made Zhou Song’s heart tremble. He wanted to give Shen Qingzhu all the best things in the world. “Alright, I’ll use the leftover ribs from yesterday for the soup base.”

Shen Qingzhu nodded, leaning into his arms, enjoying the view of the snow.

Holding Shen Qingzhu close, Zhou Song felt his heart and arms both filled to the brim, deeply grateful he had taken that step forward.

The snow was falling harder now.

Zhou Song worried about the livestock in the back, thinking he should add some hay and cover any drafts.

Knowing he’d only be a distraction if he followed, Shen Qingzhu stayed back, taking the opportunity to unpack his belongings.

“Once I’m done outside, I’ll help you unpack. Rest a bit; you said earlier you weren’t feeling well.” Zhou Song said, concerned.

“No need. I’ll start with the clothes, and if I get tired, I’ll rest.” Zhou Song had been gentle enough last night, so he was fine by now.

Reluctantly, Zhou Song went to the back, reminding Shen Qingzhu not to overdo it.

Shen Qingzhu entered the warm room, set aside his cloak and scarf, and went to the wardrobe. Zhou Song’s clothing took up one side, mostly made of rough fabric and not very thick for winter. He noted mentally to get Zhou Song some better clothes.

After arranging everything, Shen Qingzhu opened his book box, pulling out a few books. As he was going through them, Zhou Song came in from outside, shaking off the snow and rubbing his hands for warmth.

Kneeling by the box, Shen Qingzhu stood up and brushed the snow from Zhou Song’s hair. “You must be freezing; warm up by the fire.”

“I’m alright. Not that cold.” Seeing the books, Zhou Song said, “Let me help you move them to the study.”

At the mention of the study Zhou Song had prepared for him, Shen Qingzhu realized he hadn’t seen it yet. “I’ll come with you.”

Zhou Song nodded, grabbing the box. The muscles in his arms were clearly visible even through the winter clothing.

Shen Qingzhu’s gaze lingered on his figure, recalling how effortlessly Zhou Song had lifted him the previous night.

“What’s up?” Zhou Song asked, not noticing the thoughts in Shen Qingzhu’s mind.

Shen Qingzhu’s gaze returned to his face, and he smiled. “Nothing, just admiring how strong my husband is.”

Zhou Song’s ears reddened, though he replied casually, “It’s no big deal. This box isn’t heavy. I’ve even carried a wild boar down from the mountain.”

Shen Qingzhu remembered hearing about this feat from the villagers. Seeing Zhou Song’s proud expression, he smiled. “That’s amazing; not everyone could do that.”

Pleased, Zhou Song turned, lifting the box. “Let’s go. We’ll get your books organized.”

Watching him leave the room, Shen Qingzhu’s lips curled into a soft smile.