Chapter 64: Because You Hold Me Every Night

Lihua desperately tried to drive away the images that should not have appeared in his mind on such an occasion, using pain to dispel them. Every bite of this meal was clearly a delicacy, yet he found it tasteless.

Because his mind was heavy, and the more considerate and kind Gan Qiongying was to him, the more he felt overwhelmed by guilt when he remembered his evening appointment with Zhongli Zhengzhen.

Reason told him he should not easily trust Gan Qiongying, should not forget her past actions, and should quickly uncover Princess Duanrong’s network of influence to rescue his subordinates detained in Jinchuan.

In the latter half of the banquet, as the two had eaten their fill, Gan Qiongying confirmed that Lihua had eaten to his limit and stopped attending to him. Instead, she turned her attention back to Wen Xueling, continuing to tease her with sharp remarks.

There was no other way—after all, she was the villainess, and Wen Xueling was the female lead. She had originally wanted to avoid this, but now that she had a younger brother, she could no longer hide.

Even if it was just to ensure Gan Lin’s safety in the palace, as in the original plot, she had to stir up trouble for Wen Xueling, making her life chaotic and tumultuous.

However, she wouldn’t actually harm Wen Xueling—she wasn’t some kind of devil. She was a model citizen of the 21st century, advocating for prosperity, civility, and harmony.

Her main approach was to be like a toad crawling on someone’s foot—not biting, but just being annoying.

She sidled up to Wen Xueling, tugged at her skirt, and said, “Hey, where did you get this outfit made? Let me tell you, don’t go there again. It doesn’t look good on you—it’s like a big radish flower.”

As she spoke, she pointed to an exquisitely carved flower on a dish in front of Wen Xueling, showing it to her.

The stunning dance costume that Wen Xueling wore in the plot, which captivated the world with a single dance, was reduced in Gan Qiongying’s words to nothing more than a decorative piece on a dish.

The key was that Wen Xueling glanced down at where she pointed and could never unsee it—because it really did look incredibly similar.

Wen Xueling’s face turned ashen. Gan Qiongying leaned closer to her seat, speaking as if they were close sisters: “Let me tell you, you should stop dancing from now on, okay?”

“Earlier, with so many people around, I didn’t have the heart to say it. What respectable young lady or noble princess learns to dance for no reason?”

Wen Xueling didn’t want to listen to Gan Qiongying’s nonsense; she wanted to run away.

But the banquet wasn’t over yet, and she couldn’t escape even if she tried.

Gan Qiongying was slightly taller than her, leaning in with an oppressive presence, almost whispering into her ear: “You haven’t been in Yindu for long, so you might not know this. In Yindu, respectable young ladies don’t learn things like dancing, which are meant to please men with their bodies.”

At first, Wen Xueling wore an expression of refusing to listen, like a turtle chanting scriptures, but soon her expression gradually grew serious.

Gan Qiongying continued, “The noble young ladies you hang out with all flatter you, but no one dares to tell you the truth. In Yindu, only concubines and courtesans use their dance to please others.”

“When families raise their daughters, they emphasize virtues like gentleness, diligence, and household management. Even a slightly alluring-looking matriarch might worry about her son’s soul being seduced, leading him to indulge in bedchamber affairs and neglect his duties, making him undesirable as a match.”

“As for skills like music, chess, calligraphy, and painting—unless it’s a particularly formal occasion or performed for elders, musical talents are rarely displayed.”

Gan Qiongying then pointed at the musicians playing nearby and said, “Every noble household keeps musicians. You’ve attended many family banquets too—have you ever seen anyone have their daughter play the qin for guests? Unless they intend to offer their daughter as a concubine.”

Wen Xueling was quickly and thoroughly swayed by Gan Qiongying’s convincing words.

Yet everything Gan Qiongying said was true—these were all things from Princess Duanrong’s memories. Although Nánzhào had open customs and not overly strict gender boundaries, these practices were unwritten rules among clans and nobles.

As she spoke, Gan Qiongying grew more animated, even putting an arm around Wen Xueling’s fragrant shoulder, using physical contact to deepen trust in their interaction.

Seeing Wen Xueling starting to believe her, Gan Qiongying shifted tactics, beginning to sow discord between her and her father.

“Why would you go to such lengths to learn dancing? You’re young and might not understand these customs, but your father, as Jingxi Wang, surely has countless concubines in his household, right? He wouldn’t have his principal wife dance for him casually, would he?”

“Jingxi Wang has spent many years in the Imperial City. He must know these unwritten rules about marrying a principal wife.”

“If he wants to find you a suitable husband, why didn’t he tell you about these things beforehand?”

Gan Qiongying wore a look of genuine confusion. Though she left the rest unsaid, every raised eyebrow questioned Jingxi Wang’s “ulterior motives,” hinting that he intended to offer his precious daughter as a concubine.

She was implying that Jingxi Wang didn’t treasure Wen Xueling as much as he claimed.

And indeed, he didn’t. In the storyline, Jingxi Wang treated Wen Xueling as a tool for political marriage. Upon learning she was entangled with several men at once, he laughed heartily, praising his daughter’s skill and encouraging her to keep them all on the hook.

After hearing this, Wen Xueling was stunned for a moment, but her expression soon darkened. She glared fiercely at Gan Qiongying, once again wanting to strangle her!

She wasn’t foolish—she sensed Gan Qiongying was trying to drive a wedge between her and her father.

Her father loved her so dearly; how could he possibly harm her?

He had even said that no matter whom she wanted to marry, he could make it happen for her!

Wen Xueling pushed Gan Qiongying away, sat up straight, and ignored her.

Princess Duanrong was truly detestable.

Gan Qiongying rubbed her nose, not expecting to drive a wedge between Wen Xueling and Jingxi Wang with just a few words.

She knew when to stop. While she couldn’t guarantee much else, as long as Wen Xueling went back and inquired a little—confirming that noblewomen indeed didn’t dance—from then on, she would never again confidently take the stage, thinking she could captivate the world with a single dance.

Someone so proud, once realizing what she learned was meant to please others, would inevitably harbor resentment.

This round, she had thoroughly dismantled it.

Gan Qiongying moved back to her small table, feeling she deserved an extra drumstick for this maneuver.

As she lowered her head, lost in thought about the next part of the plot, Lihua kept watching Gan Qiongying.

In fact, Lihua often felt that the current Gan Qiongying and the former Princess Duanrong were not the same person at all.

When did it start?

Two months ago, when he went to the mansion to deliver silver, was routinely beaten, scolded, and driven away, only to be inexplicably brought back.

At that time, he thought Princess Duanrong had taken a fancy to his looks.

But after sharing a bed for so long, aside from holding him while sleeping, she had never overstepped any boundaries. Once, when they were jostled in the marketplace and accidentally fell together, she had been even more flustered than he was.

The ridiculous part was that at the time, Lihua had thought she did it on purpose.

Now, looking back… he almost wished she had been.

If she truly had been intentional, if she had been after his looks and hadn’t treated him so well, he wouldn’t be so hopelessly tangled up in his thoughts.

But the longer he spent with Gan Qiongying, the harder it became to admit that he constantly, at every moment, longed for her to touch him.

Even just a brush of their fingers, or a nudge of their shoulders.

This secret, unspeakable yearning tormented Lihua endlessly.

More than once, he cursed himself in his heart for being so pathetic—why would he long for the hand of someone who had once trampled him into the mud?

But… he couldn’t help it.

Because what Gan Qiongying gave him was a level of care so tender, so meticulous it ached his heart—something he had never even dared to dream of in his entire life.

What else could Lihua do?

Even if he knew it was all an illusion, he still wanted to be that ignorant monkey, reaching into the water just once to see.

So when the evening banquet ended and they returned to their courtyard, washed up, and prepared for bed…

Gan Qiongying closed her eyes, lay down peacefully, and folded her hands over her chest, as proper and orderly as always.

But after a while, she felt a gaze so intense it made her skin prickle.

She opened her eyes and looked at Lihua, who usually slept facing the wall with his back to her. Tonight, however, he was turned toward her, watching.

Gan Qiongying glanced at him. Lihua’s expression seemed normal—as if he were looking at her, yet also as if he were staring through her, lost in thought.

So she closed her eyes again.

A moment later, she opened them once more.

It’s fine, it’s fine. Sleeping facing the wall every night probably makes his neck stiff.

She opened her eyes, then closed them again.

It’s fine, it’s fine. Sleeping on one side for too long can make your body go numb.

She opened her eyes, then closed them again.

No, she couldn’t fall asleep.

Gan Qiongying opened her eyes, turned to look at Lihua, paused for a moment, and tentatively asked, “Do you need to get up to use the bathroom?”

“It’s fine, you can just step over me.”

Lihua, resting his head on his arm, shook his head. “No.”

“Then… are you having trouble sleeping?”

“Is it the bed?” Gan Qiongying suddenly realized. “Is this bed not as comfortable as mine?”

“I knew it! My bedding is a tribute item, specially awarded to me by His Majesty.”

“But since you’re used to it, there’s no quick fix. There’s no way we can get tribute items here, and by the time we send someone back to fetch it, it’ll be dawn. Tomorrow is the Summer Hunt, and we’ll have to stay here for another two days.”

“How about I have someone fetch it tomorrow?” Gan Qiongying didn’t find Lihua troublesome at all. After all, he was the God of Wealth incarnate—it was only natural for him to have some demands.

But Lihua remained silent, just watching her.

His gaze these past few days had been complicated, and Gan Qiongying couldn’t decipher it.

Truth be told, Lihua’s eyes were always complex. He carried too much on his mind, but Gan Qiongying understood—geniuses were always deep thinkers. As the saying goes, the business world is like a battlefield. Those who excel in commerce are like battlefield commanders—bound to be full of worries and thoughts.

“Should I have Manyue order someone to brew you a calming soup?” Gan Qiongying pressed on.

Lihua still didn’t respond.

Gan Qiongying grew a little anxious and suddenly reached out to touch his forehead. Lihua shuddered at her touch, his hand on the blanket tightening abruptly.

“Not sick, just can’t sleep?” Gan Qiongying’s patience with Lihua was like an endless, flowing river.

“Hmm.” This time Lihua responded.

Gan Qiongying sat up, thought for a moment, and said, “Alright then, I’ll go to Aunt’s place to take a look. She definitely has soft quilts—even if they’re not tribute items, they must be top quality.”

“Wait for me, I’ll be back soon.”

She was willing to swallow her pride tonight; she was determined to make sure Lihua slept well.

But as she was putting on her shoes, Lihua grabbed her clothes.

“Don’t go, it’s not about the quilt.” Lihua’s voice was extremely tense, almost trembling.

Gan Qiongying turned to look at him and asked, “Then what’s the matter?”

Lihua looked at her, closed his eyes after a moment, his fingers still clutching a corner of Gan Qiongying’s clothes. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse to the extreme: “Because every night, you hold me while I sleep. If you don’t hold me, I can’t fall asleep.”

Although his voice was as faint as a mosquito’s hum, Gan Qiongying still heard it clearly.

But she thought she was hallucinating.