Seventh Miss took a deep breath.
She stared at the blurred traces of the hundred-treasure inlay in the darkness, almost devoutly tracing over and over with her gaze the exquisite craftsmanship. Deep within her heart, a part of her couldn’t help but wonder just how many years one must spend cultivating carving skills to embed pearls and gemstones so ingeniously into ebony wood as hard as iron, creating such a work of art…
The next instant, she firmly pushed away her wandering thoughts. She knew she was avoiding things again. After so many years of pretense, she had almost lost the ability to face herself naturally, let alone open part of herself to this dangerous man.
He was dangerous. She trembled finely from the bottom of her heart, thinking uncontrollably: he can hurt me.
In this world, those who could harm Yang Qi were few and far between. Among all those before whom she could let down her guard, draw near, and show her weakness and fears, only Xu Fengjia was unpredictable. Feng Jin wouldn’t hurt her, Ninth Brother wouldn’t hurt her—even Fifth Miss and Sixth Miss, given the choice, wouldn’t hurt her. She had to admit to herself that even if they wanted to harm her, the consequences wouldn’t be more severe than the damage Xu Fengjia could cause inadvertently.
Because what they demanded from her, what she gave them, was not irreplaceable. But what Xu Fengjia wanted, what she was even already giving in some ways—even she herself only had this much in a lifetime.
Seventh Miss didn’t even like using the word “love” to describe what he was demanding. That word carried a frivolous naivety unsuited to her gray life. This was something far heavier than love. She didn’t even know how to describe it—Xu Fengjia wanted her to open up completely, wanted her to accept him into her life. What he was demanding was a small piece of Seventh Miss’s very being.
And the chances of all this working were simply too small.
She took a deep breath and, like sleep-talking, for the first time before Xu Fengjia, half-implicitly and half-frankly admitted her weakness.
“Because he can’t hurt me, but you can.”
For someone as intelligent as Xu Fengjia, this was already a sufficiently direct confession.
The man beside her sat up in shock. Seventh Miss also adjusted her position, leaning against the headboard, calmly accepting Xu Fengjia’s gaze in the darkness.
“So…” Xu Fengjia drew out his tone. “Just because I can hurt you.”
His fingers found Seventh Miss’s cheek again, but this time with excessively rough force, abruptly roaming along her face as if trying to read her current expression with his fingers.
“I never knew you were such a coward, Yang Qi.” His tone was so contradictory—containing such turbulent anger yet calm as the lightest silk sliding across Seventh Miss’s skin. “Or in your heart, am I so unbearable? Haven’t I been good enough to you?”
Seventh Miss fell silent.
Xu Fengjia had undoubtedly been very good to her. Even the most demanding young lady in her position would hardly have any complaints.
Toward the attractive maids around her, he had never spared a second glance. Though busy with official duties, he still made time to accompany his wife and children. For his family’s sake, he was even willing to give up a voyage that could bring him glory and achievement… Even Second Miss’s husband Sun Liquan had taken in seven or eight concubines over the years, with two or three who bore children promoted to concubine status. Even men like First Master and Second Master were considered decent husbands in Great Qin. Xu Fengjia’s treatment of her was nothing short of exemplary.
No wonder he was so angry, had such confidence to question why she still wouldn’t compromise.
She suddenly felt very cold, yet this chill wasn’t like a sudden shiver but more a realization: she felt submerged in a pool of icy spring water. For a while, she had been numb enough to forget her situation. But in this moment, Seventh Miss finally understood that even though outwardly, and often psychologically, she had become very much like a person of Great Qin, she ultimately was not. In this society, she was very lonely. Her true self could never be fully understood. The more she refused to abandon the last bit of herself that remained, the more intensely she would feel suffocated.
“You’ve been very good to me,” she affirmed softly. “I know you’ve been trying hard to be good to me, to Fifth Sister, to Fourth Brother and Fifth Brother… You’ve worked very hard.”
She paused, biting her lip and constantly encouraging herself internally, even forcing that weak, evasive part of herself to face Xu Fengjia’s silent anger. He deserved an answer. He was worth an answer.
“But we’re still not equal… Xu Fengjia, I can’t give you anything from such a humble position.”
Xu Fengjia sharply sucked in a cold breath, but Seventh Miss fumbled to grasp his hand tightly, and he quieted again.
“I don’t mean you still hold onto your sense of superiority—that’s a different matter.” Instead, she calmed down, like a student who had finally submitted their exam, feeling a strange sense of liberation. “Once, in social status, we were unequal. You were the lofty heir, while I was just an insignificant concubine-born daughter. You were childish enough to believe this was sufficient to determine the relationship between us—you demand, I can only give. And your giving depended on your grace.”
She smiled silently. “But now you’re not like that anymore, and neither am I… I understand that behind this, you’ve certainly changed a great deal. Though not all because of me, the ultimate beneficiary is still me.”
Seventh Miss’s change in social status came from her own struggles and fate’s arrangements. Today, she was no longer that concubine daughter anyone could trample. No matter who became her husband, they couldn’t bully her at will. She could stand as an equal opponent across the board from any husband, engaging in a brilliant contest. She had gained the qualification to enter the game.
And Xu Fengjia’s change perhaps stemmed from his own maturity, perhaps also from Fifth Miss’s misfortune. He was no longer that boy who didn’t know the limits of heaven and earth, who demanded too much from others and himself. Even when she most wanted to push him away, Seventh Miss couldn’t deny this.
He had even learned to listen, allowing darkness to become her best camouflage, providing her a false sense of security, letting her continue to pour out the words that had been suppressed in her heart for what felt like eternity.
“But it’s still not enough. What you give me is still insufficient. You’ve done very well—perhaps no one in this world could do better than you, but for me it’s simply not enough… The problem is with me, not with you. The partner I want isn’t like this. The world I want isn’t like this.”
By the end, Seventh Miss had lost control. Despair surged forward all at once, competing to drown her reason, finding gaps in her words and rushing out.
The Western Three Rooms fell silent again. Xu Fengjia’s fingers stopped moving, instead thoughtfully rubbing Seventh Miss’s wrist, bringing a tingling sensation to her tender skin.
Seventh Miss let out a long breath.
She had never known that merely unburdening herself could bring such intense relief. She felt long-lost pleasant drowsiness—sleep no longer seemed like a task, no longer merely a way to replenish energy when exhausted, but finally again like a beautiful thing, beckoning to her enticingly.
She would never regret this, she thought hazily. She should have made it clear long ago. No matter what the future held, she owed this to Xu Fengjia. It wasn’t that he wasn’t good enough—it was that she was too advanced for him.
Then Xu Fengjia moved.
He leaned forward, his entire body pressing before Seventh Miss.
The ultimate distance suddenly transformed into ultimate invasion. Xu Fengjia instantly compressed her personal space almost to nothing. His burning breath blew directly against Seventh Miss’s ear, bringing a sharp stirring.
“Tell me.” His voice was as low as heavy, smooth brocade, pouring into Seventh Miss’s ears with an omnipresent scorching heat. “What kind of me do you want?”
With just this voice, Xu Fengjia conveyed a completely different attitude. Moments ago, he had been cold, disappointed, and distant, but now he was invasive, demanding, even vibrant with life.
Seventh Miss laughed and sighed.
“I know,” she said wearily, her hands seeming to have a will of their own as they circled Xu Fengjia’s shoulders, absentmindedly playing with the ends of his hair. “You still think everything is very simple—I state my desires, and you merely need to satisfy them.”
Xu Fengjia’s lips brushed across her cheek as he spoke, barely there. “It really is that simple. I care for you, you care for me. Everything else is trivial details.”
He paused, then laughed softly.
Though before her was absolute darkness, Seventh Miss could still trace the provocation in that smile—like that smile in Baifang Garden’s Siyi Pavilion years ago, containing the satisfaction of victory in hand, youthful ambition…
She trembled slightly.
She was human too, susceptible to temptation. Xu Fengjia as a feast had an influence on her that her current self couldn’t forcibly suppress.
“Tell me,” he breathed in her ear again. “How do you like me to act?”
The ambiguity in his words almost drew out tangible silver threads, penetrating every opening, drilling into her seven orifices, reaching her heart, twisting downward with an itching sensation that forced Seventh Miss to bite her lip hard to stop a distressed moan from escaping.
She struggled to suppress the trembling impulse, maintaining her calm composure.