“Then you have to cooperate with me…”
Liang Qingluo didn’t even have time to ask how she was supposed to cooperate, before she was pressed down and collided into his embrace.
The fragrance of “Spring Messenger in the Snow,” mixed with the mellow scent of wine from his body, rushed over and enveloped her.
Startled, she looked up, just as he lowered his head, and two warm lips lightly brushed across her forehead.
It felt like a feather sweeping gently by.
Liang Qingluo met his gaze. The gentle sunlight of spring cast its glow over his brows and eyes, filling them with a jade-like brilliance.
Her heart thumped heavily and suddenly. She hurriedly lowered her lashes, wanting to pull away from his embrace: “Why are you holding me?”
“Don’t move, trust me.” His large hand held her waist, not letting her retreat, “He’s looking over here.”
Her hand, pressed against his chest, paused. Liang Qingluo instinctively turned her head, wanting to look in Qingjian’s direction, but was instead guided by his hand, pressing her face to his chest.
His hand was large, her face small; one palm nearly covered half her face, the base of his thumb settling below her ear, his fingers resting along her cheek, close to her lips.
“Don’t look at him; he’ll look at you himself.”
Her vision was completely blocked. Nowhere she looked was there Qingjian, only flower petals occasionally falling in the wind.
Soon, even the petals disappeared from her sight, and everything in front of her grew hazy. Her heartbeat was disturbed by his strong and powerful thumping, and she felt her own heart pounding fiercely in her chest.
It took her quite a while to recover her senses, which had been scattered by his sudden embrace: “Has he looked over?”
“Yes.”
Qingjian really had looked over.
Not only Qingjian—even some of the guests had noticed their embrace, sending surprised and curious glances toward them from every direction.
Liang Qingluo began to feel that using this method to draw Qingjian’s attention might not be quite right: “Aren’t we… making a scene?”
“If he doesn’t like you, does it matter if we are?”
True enough…
He did this to make Qingjian look at her.
From this perspective, he had succeeded.
But then Liang Qingluo realized another problem: as an unmarried maiden, hugging a man in front of everyone like this—what propriety was there in that?
Her gaze grew clearer, and she saw quite a few guests had noticed them.
Liang Qingluo instantly froze: What should she do now?
“Lord Pei, what do we do? It seems like a lot of people are looking at us?” Today, her mother had especially warned her not to go near Pei Huai’an. And now, she had ended up right in his arms. “How will this end?”
How did she suddenly lose her senses and let herself be held for so long just now?
He, however, remained unhurried: “It’s fine, I’ll teach you a trick.”
“What trick?”
“You can pretend to be flustered and push me away, saying I got drunk and offended you…”
“That won’t do! You were just helping me, how can I turn around and blame you?”
“But right now, it’s the only way.”
“Absolutely not. I already ruined your reputation once; I can’t let your name be sullied again…”
Above her, Pei Huai’an’s lips curved a little deeper: He knew this kind-hearted girl would never do such a thing.
“Then what should we do?” He should have let go of her, but instead, he tightened his hold.
Liang Qingluo saw Sister Youran walking over to them.
Qingjian followed close behind and soon appeared in her line of sight.
There was not much time left for them to discuss; it seemed they’d have to use his trick after all.
But she couldn’t use it entirely.
Liang Qingluo grabbed his arm, drew it over her own shoulder, and let it rest there, then wrapped her arms around his waist: “You pretend to be drunk and collapse on me…”
She was much shorter than him, but as the daughter of a military family, her build was sturdy enough that even if he put his whole weight on her, she could still hold him up.
Pei Huai’an understood her intention and, without hesitation, leaned half his weight against her.
When Shen Youran approached, she had originally wanted to ask what was going on, but seeing Pei Huai’an acting so “drunk,” there was no need to inquire further.
“Sister Youran, the Seventh Lord is drunk. Let me help him find a place to sober up.”
“No need,” matters like this weren’t for a young maiden to handle. Shen Youran turned to Qingjian, “Qingjian, help the Seventh Lord to a side room to rest for a while.”
“Yes.” Qingjian stepped forward and, from Liang Qingluo’s side, lifted Pei Huai’an, pulling him over.
Her movements were swift. Liang Qingluo saw her, but her reaction was slower. Before she could let go of Pei Huai’an, she was pulled along by Qingjian’s strength.
Pei Huai’an, pretending to be drunk, landed in Qingjian’s grasp, and Liang Qingluo was also drawn closer.
Her heart, unwillingly, started racing again.
Qingjian took Pei Huai’an’s arm off Liang Qingluo’s shoulder, silently carried him on her back, and strode away.
Beneath the crabapple tree, only Shen Youran and Liang Qingluo were left. Shen Youran patted her chest and said, “My eyesight isn’t good, but just now I saw the two of you hugging, and I thought Seventh Brother was taking liberties with you.”
“No,” Liang Qingluo said, heart fluttering, “He didn’t.”
“That’s good.” Shen Youran took her hand. “There are many guests today. It’s my fault for neglecting you. Don’t stay here alone, come, I’ll take you over there to enjoy the flowers…”
“No need, Sister Youran. I’ll just wander by myself, you go ahead.”
Now that Shen Youran was in charge of the Taifu Manor’s household, she couldn’t avoid socializing at the banquet, so it was understandable.
Shen Youran felt sorry about her situation: “As for Qingjian, I’ve already spoken to her for you, so don’t overthink it. She’s just like that; when I first entered the manor, she wasn’t particularly friendly to me, either.”
Liang Qingluo was comforted by this: “It’s all right, Sister Youran. She just doesn’t like me. Even if it’s spoken out, that’s all…”
“Very well, after the banquet, we’ll have a proper chat together.”
“All right.”
Shen Youran let go of her hand and turned back toward the female guests.
Liang Qingluo didn’t linger there, either, but looked around and moved to a quieter spot.
Sunlight paved the path, spring was in full bloom, and Liang Qingluo followed a small path, walking slowly, when she happened upon a small cat sunning itself. She stopped in her tracks, amused, and began to play with the kitten.
A gentle breeze blew, clouds slowly drifting by. She crouched in the grass, teasing the cat with a blade of grass, when suddenly a shadow fell over her.
Who else could walk without a sound but Qingjian?
Liang Qingluo hadn’t expected her to come find her, and when she looked up, she was a bit taken aback.
“He’s not drunk.”
“…Huh?” Liang Qingluo blinked and only then realized she was talking about Pei Huai’an.
She said Pei Huai’an wasn’t drunk.
Of course she knew Pei Huai’an wasn’t drunk, but for her to come here and say this on purpose—could it be she thought that Pei Huai’an, pretending to be drunk, had taken advantage of her, and thus came to warn her?
Thinking of this, her heart couldn’t help but flutter: “Qingjian, are you concerned about me?”
“Just reminding you not to be fooled.”
“I know.” The gloom weighing on her heart was swept away by these two short sentences. She stood up, a sweet smile dimpling her lips, “Qingjian, you came all the way to find me and even talked to me. Does that mean you don’t dislike me anymore?”
Qingjian never disliked her. The reason she had come was simply that she noticed Pei Huai’an was faking drunkenness and, out of a sense of protection for a young maiden, felt she ought to offer a warning.
She didn’t want Liang Qingluo to have false hopes, so she was about to answer, but then heard her say: “It’s fine if you don’t like me. But could you at least not hate me? Being hated by someone you like just makes you feel like such a worthless person…”
The words Qingjian had meant to say stuck in her throat. After a few breaths, she finally said: “I don’t hate you. I just don’t like you. Sorry.”
“It’s all right.” Even if she still didn’t like her, as long as she didn’t hate her, Liang Qingluo was already very happy inside.
After Qingjian left, Liang Qingluo realized the kitten had disappeared.
She was in a wonderful mood and felt the little cat was fated with her, so she decided to look for it and raise it herself.
When the kitten heard her voice, it meowed in response but kept its little legs moving, darting through the locust groves and bamboo stands, and scampered into a courtyard surrounded by elegant trees.
Liang Qingluo followed it inside and saw a maid standing guard in the courtyard. She asked who lived here, wanting to see if she could ask for the kitten.
The maid replied, “Just now, Lord Pei the Seventh drank too much and is resting inside…”
What a coincidence—Pei Huai’an was resting here.
It just so happened that she wanted to find someone to talk to, and he was no doubt the best listener.
But she couldn’t just walk in directly. If anyone saw them together, it would be another source of gossip.
So she left the courtyard for the time being, and when the servant had gone out, she doubled back, found the room where Pei Huai’an was, and knocked on the door.
There was no answer from inside, so she called softly, “Seventh Lord, it’s me.”
After a moment, the door opened. Pei Huai’an, without his outer robe, looked at her with slightly tipsy eyes: “What brings you here?”
He was pretending to be drunk, but was also truly a bit intoxicated, and simply used the opportunity to avoid more drinking. He hadn’t expected her to come find him.
“I have some good news I can’t share with anyone else.”
“What good news?” Pei Huai’an stepped aside and motioned her to come in.
The elated young lady didn’t hesitate in the slightest and walked right into his room.
Pei Huai’an closed the door and returned to the bed, leaning back against the rail: “I’m a bit dizzy, forgive me.”
Speaking to someone from the bed wasn’t the most polite, but at this moment the effects of the wine were really starting to hit him, and he couldn’t sit upright on a stool.
“It’s fine.” Liang Qingluo didn’t mind at all and couldn’t wait to share her joy. “Seventh Lord, did you know? After Qingjian brought you here, she came back to find me…”
Pei Huai’an’s expression paused for a moment: “Is that so?”
“She even spoke to me…”
“What did she say?”
“She said you were pretending to be drunk, told me not to be fooled by you.”
Pei Huai’an let out a soft chuckle: “She’s quite kindhearted.”
“I took the chance to ask if she was willing to talk to me, did that mean she didn’t hate me anymore?”
“And what did she say?”
“She said she doesn’t hate me,” Liang Qingluo’s eyes sparkled as she spoke of her happiness, “she just doesn’t like me. She even apologized, and I forgave her right away…”
“Mm.”
Pei Huai’an felt a tightness in his chest and instinctively tugged at his collar, revealing a hint of collarbone.
“Seventh Lord, do you think I still have a chance?”
Pei Huai’an looked at her, his thoughts a little dazed: “What chance?”
“A chance to be with her?”
“With whom?”
“Qingjian, of course.” What was going on? Hadn’t she been talking about Qingjian all along? Why was he suddenly confused?
“Oh, you still want to be with her?”
“My father always told me, never give up easily. If you like something, you have to fight for it.”
“So how do you plan to pursue her?”
Liang Qingluo propped her chin on her hand. “I don’t know. Can you help me think of something?”
“Why do you want my help?”
Liang Qingluo was startled. “You don’t want to?” But just now under the crabapple tree, he had been so willing to help her.
Was she being too presumptuous? After all, they weren’t all that close.
“Then I’ll take back what I just said…”
Seeing the light in her eyes suddenly dim, Pei Huai’an sighed, “That’s not what I meant. Let me think.”
“Okay, take your time.”
Liang Qingluo propped her chin in her hands, quietly waiting, her gaze full of hope fixed on the man with ink-black hair and a jade coronet sitting on the bed.
Sunlight streamed through the window lattice. He lowered his eyes, his handsome features brushed with a layer of pale light, exuding a refined and noble air.
The high bridge of his nose, lips that when smiling were like thawing rivers in spring—yet now pressed together in a straight line, giving his expression a faint sense of somber stillness.
Liang Qingluo was waiting for him to speak, but before he could, the sound of a knock came at the door.
“Seventh Lord, the Young Lady asked me to bring you some hangover soup…” It seemed to be the same maid she had seen in the courtyard.
Liang Qingluo leapt to her feet, hurriedly searching for a place to hide.
She absolutely couldn’t let anyone see her alone with Pei Huai’an.
But this guest room was set up for the master’s temporary rest, furnished simply: just a canopy bed, two stools, a long table at the bedside, and a few small ornaments. There wasn’t even a screen to hide behind.
“Seventh Lord, Seventh Lord,” the maid called twice more from outside, and perhaps thinking he would not answer, added, “Then I’ll come in now.”
Seeing the maid was about to enter, Liang Qingluo panicked and bent down, intending to crawl under the bed.
Her wrist was suddenly gripped, and the man on the bed pulled her up with a strong tug.
“Hide up here.”