Chapter 47: Punishment – The Erotic Painting

When guilt takes root in one’s heart, there’s always an urge to make amends. Lin Xihe held down the bridal veil that was about to slip off, crouching behind the door like a cat.

During the wedding preparations, she hadn’t seen him for quite some time, and her heart ached with longing. She widened her eyes, gazing toward the end of the corridor.

The groom pushed the door open and entered, his eyes sparkling with bright laughter. The word “wife” escaped his lips as if he had called it out a thousand times before.

The room was filled with wedding joy, yet missing that most captivating shade of red.

Wen Zhixu walked slowly to the bedside. The brocade quilt lay perfectly smooth, with only slight indentations at the edges. Two shelled peanuts lay lonely beside the pillow.

A scene seemed to materialize before his eyes: his wife, tired from waiting, didn’t dare to nap on the bed. Hungry, she stared at the food but was too timid to eat.

He felt inexplicably annoyed—all because of that scoundrel Xie Qi who had stirred up the drinking games. Tomorrow he would personally visit the Xie residence; only by giving Xie Qi a good beating could he vent his anger.

“Wife?” Wen Zhixu scanned the room.

Suddenly, Lin Xihe, who had been hiding in the corner, let out a series of excited cries and bumped into his back.

The groom staggered slightly from the impact, barely managing to steady himself against the bed frame.

Two arms appeared out of nowhere around his waist. The flickering candlelight illuminated her crimson-painted fingernails.

Lin Xihe’s voice came from behind him: “Did I scare you?”

Wen Zhixu: “Why didn’t you rest first?”

Their voices overlapped, and both fell silent, waiting for the other’s response.

“It’s my fault,” Wen Zhixu said, tightening his hold on her arms. “Why didn’t you sleep? Everything in this household is yours to use as you please. Why be so reserved?”

Lin Xihe nudged him with her head: “Including you?”

“Naturally.”

“I wanted to sleep, but the bed is covered with auspicious fruits. They’re too uncomfortable to lie on.”

“Why didn’t you remove them, wife?”

“There are too many. I was waiting for you to come back and tidy up.”

Wen Zhixu understood—his wife wasn’t strictly adhering to etiquette; she was just inherently lazy.

“Then why didn’t you eat the peanuts to curb your hunger?”

“I’m allergic to peanuts.”

“…” Well, there goes his misplaced sympathy.

A “red mushroom” inexplicably sprouted at his waist. Beneath the wedding veil, her delicate nose pushed up a sharp curve in the silk, gently rising and falling with each breath.

Fearing she might suffocate, he reached out directly and lifted the embroidered mandarin duck veil.

Light flooded her eyes, and Lin Xihe blinked rapidly: “You didn’t use the ‘veil-lifting device’! I protected this veil all day, and you just took it off like that?”

According to wedding customs, the maid should have brought the ebony wedding scale. The groom would then make a show of lifting the veil with it, saying “May all your wishes be fulfilled.”

She had rehearsed these formal procedures eight hundred times in her mind.

Wen Zhixu completely ignored this. With one arm, he scooped the muttering Lin Xihe from behind and brought her in front of him, encircling her in his embrace.

Since she had stolen a kiss on his cheek last time, they hadn’t seen each other.

The compensation money from the Lin family’s concubine had been used to renovate his residence. Now that the house was refurbished, Wen Hongyuan ordered Wen Zhixu to personally arrange the interior decorations and move back from Yinquan Pavilion to his own home, along with preparing all necessary furnishings.

Officially, it was “to be arranged according to the future granddaughter-in-law’s preferences”; in reality, it was “to prevent his lovesick grandson from climbing over the young maiden’s wall.”

Thus, the two went from being next-door neighbors to being in a “long-distance relationship.”

Wen Zhixu attempted to request a meeting by submitting invitations under the pretext of discussing decoration details.

But he was chased out with a stick by his future father-in-law Lin Zhaoheng: “You brat! Meeting before the wedding goes against propriety! Get back to your house and count the days!”

Wen Zhixu counted the days, enduring and waiting, until he finally had his bride in his arms.

He held her for a long while, until the woman in his embrace twisted her stiffened body and said, “Well… we haven’t drunk the nuptial wine yet…”

She bore half the responsibility for not having lifted the bridal veil. But the most important ritual—the shared nuptial cup—must be observed.

“No hurry.” Wen Zhixu bent his neck slightly, bringing his right cheek within a breath’s distance of her. “Might I trouble Madam Wen to settle her debt first? You haven’t stamped this side yet.”

Last time, she had kissed his left cheek, leaving the right one neglected.

Lin Xihe grumbled inwardly: What’s with this man? Even kisses have to be demanded?

By the dim candlelight, her gaze fell upon the curve of Wen Zhixu’s smiling lips. She leaned in and gave them a soft smack: “Mwah.”

Pulling back half a step, she feigned composure: “There. Stamped right on the lips. Permanent seal.”

He froze for a moment, then extended the tip of his tongue to lick away the moisture at the corner of his mouth, restraining himself as he said, “Madam has broken the rules.”

Lin Xihe paid no mind—she hadn’t even begun the truly rule-breaking acts! Grabbing his hand, she forcefully pressed him onto the stool.

Wen Zhixu yielded to her, obediently picking up the nuptial wine.

The flickering candlelight softened the edges of his face, and the hand holding the cup revealed slender, elegant fingers—a sight too tempting for any hand enthusiast.

“What is it?” Noticing Lin Xihe staring blankly at his hand, Wen Zhixu placed the cup in her palm. “Weren’t you the one eager for the nuptial wine?”

Snapping out of her daze, Lin Xihe masked her embarrassment with bravado: “I’ll drink it!”

Her bold stance made it seem as though she were about to wrestle a tiger.

In her previous life, half a glass of Long Island Iced Tea had knocked Lin Xihe out.

In this life, she actually succumbed to a single cup of nuptial wine!

She downed it in one gulp, the sharp burn rushing straight to her core, and immediately burst into coughing.

Wen Zhixu patted her back to no avail. Seeing her cough until she was breathless, he anxiously went to pour tea, his wide wedding sleeves accidentally knocking over the empty cup.

Outside, in the distance, the night watch matron heard the commotion but dared not approach rashly. This matron was Lin Xihe’s personal attendant, serving her first day at the Wen residence and naturally cautious. She hurriedly retreated to the courtyard to seek Wen Zhixu’s personal servant.

Wen Qi hesitated: “The young master has given orders—no one is to disturb him tonight.”

To put it plainly, Wen Zhixu had long since dismissed all the servants.

The matron grew anxious: “But my young mistress has always valued cleanliness. What if she calls for water later?”

Wen Qi covered his mouth and whispered, “My young master said he would personally attend to Madam.”

“…” The matron had served two generations of the Lin family. Even on wedding nights, she had never heard of any master personally bathing and changing his bride.

Drunk and disoriented, Lin Xihe somehow found the hard stool beneath her replaced by a more comfortable armchair.

The curve of the chairback was exquisitely crafted, far more comfortable than the rosewood official’s armchair she had wheedled out of Lin Zhaoheng.

She turned her head and brushed against Wen Zhixu’s face. Her eyes unfocused, she nuzzled his cheek affectionately: “Haha, hubby.”

Another new term. Wen Zhixu pondered it: “Does that mean ‘husband’?”

Lin Xihe didn’t answer. Instead, she placed his hands on the table on either side, contentedly leaning on his forearms: “Ergonomic chair. Comfy.”

Seeing her drowsy demeanor, Wen Zhixu gathered her into his arms: “Tired? Ready to rest?”

The drunkard tugged open his intricate collar, revealing a patch of fair skin. After sniffing, she mumbled, “Smelly.”

“Don’t talk nonsense. It’s fragrant.” Indulging her, he responded softly.

“I want to bathe.”

“…”

Wen Zhixu lifted her steadily in his arms, but after just a few steps, he felt his arms grow heavy, so he adjusted his hold and hoisted her upward.

The drunken girl was surprisingly weighty.

He had sent his personal chef to the Lin residence. Though he couldn’t see the one he longed for day and night, he had run into his brother-in-law, Lin Pinyan, a few days prior, and the young man had visibly rounded out.

It was clear his wife was eating well.

“Hurry up,” urged the semi-conscious woman.

Wen Zhixu attempted to reason with the drunkard: “I can’t go any faster. This little pig is too heavy.”

Lin Xihe tugged at his lapels, squinting at him with unfocused eyes. “…You’re useless.”

She had forgotten one thing: no matter the era, never tell your significant other they’re “useless.”

“I’m useless? Lin Xihe, you—” He would have to punish her tonight.

Inside the bathing chamber, steam hung thick in the air.

At the sight of the wooden tub, the drunkard insisted on being put down.

Just as Wen Zhixu steadied his grip under her knees, the girl in his arms slipped from his grasp like an eel, sliding to the floor with a soft thud.

She threw her arms wide and hugged the tub, slurring her complaint: “This swimming pool… is way too mini…”

As a man, he truly couldn’t comprehend why a young lady would have so many opinions about a simple wooden tub.

Having been bluntly criticized by his wife for his “inadequate hardware,” Wen Zhixu’s indulgence knew no bounds. “Tomorrow, I’ll have a pool dug out for you,” he promised.

With no servants around, the refined young master searched for a low stool for Lin Xihe to sit on but came up empty.

He had no choice but to crouch down and pat his knee resignedly. “Sit here, alright?”

Lin Xihe didn’t stand on ceremony. She plopped right down on his knee, looping her arms around his neck, quite pleased with this “exclusive seat.”

“Is your head still spinning? If we don’t start washing soon, the water will get cold.” He pressed the back of his hand to her cheek. It wasn’t as feverish as before, suggesting the alcohol was wearing off.

Wen Zhixu braced himself inwardly, half-expecting Lin Xihe to say something shocking like, “You wash me.”

To his surprise, she nodded obediently.

Truth be told, Wen Zhixu was also tense. Suppressing his racing heart, he offered, “If you’re shy, I can wait behind the screen for a while? But I can’t leave—I’m afraid you might dunk your head in the water.”

As he spoke, he glanced up to find Lin Xihe, without a hint of bashfulness, undoing her belt with natural ease.

Plop.

A small booklet fell from the folds of her robe.

It wasn’t large, and the handwriting on the cover was scrawled and crooked—the kind of simplified characters only Lin Xihe could produce.

Wen Zhixu didn’t have time to flip through it and simply tucked it into his own robes.

Though they had already been wed, Wen Zhixu adhered to propriety and restraint. Out of respect for his wife, he deliberately averted his gaze while helping her undress.

A gentleman should not look where he ought not.

Amid the steam, her graceful form was half-concealed, barely visible.

In the end, Wen Zhixu couldn’t handle it and insisted she undress herself.

A drunkard has no method: Lin Xihe peeled off her clothes like bamboo shoots, sending undergarments flying in all directions.

Wen Zhixu sighed and bent down to gather them one by one. When he looked up again, Lin Xihe had obediently settled into the tub, her pale, plump arms resting limply on the rim.

As soon as he glanced over, she grinned at him. “Do you want to join me?”

“…”

Who could withstand that?

Fortunately, he found the low stool, moved it behind the screen, and sat down to collect himself.

From the other side of the screen came the sound of splashing water.

“Don’t play around too much, or the water will get cold.”

“Okay.”

The splashing behind the screen gradually ceased.

Worried, Wen Zhixu called out, “Lin Xihe.”

“I’m here, I’m here.”

“Don’t fall asleep. If you’re tired, I’ll carry you back to the room.”

Worried she might actually doze off, Wen Zhixu insisted she respond periodically.

Lin Xihe would count numbers one moment, sing an off-key tune the next, then fall silent before suddenly bursting into silly laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Wen Zhixu smiled along with her.

“My husband is so handsome!”

Probably meaning to compliment his looks.

Wen Zhixu felt somewhat relieved. Then he remembered he needed to dry her later and, concerned about wetting the item in his embrace, casually took out that small booklet.

His gaze fell upon the cover, where five large characters stood out clearly: Physiological Hygiene Class.

“Madam, what does Physiological Hygiene Class mean?” Wen Zhixu respected his partner’s privacy – her belongings shouldn’t be randomly inspected.

Lin Xihe’s voice came through the steam: “Hehe, something good.”

Why did her laughter sound so sneaky?

Wen Zhixu: “May I look at it?”

“Look at it secretly.” She lowered her voice, adding to the furtiveness.

With permission granted, Wen Zhixu opened the booklet.

First page: A man and woman on a bed, clothes in disarray, bedding messy.

He flipped back, opening the cover to reveal another hidden cover page bearing three characters: erotic art.

The outer cover was something Lin Xihe had wrapped herself, merely to mislead.

Second page: The scene shifted from bedroom to study desk.

Third page: In front of the rockery in the back garden.

The images were wildly indecent, making Wen Zhixu’s ears burn hot.

Who corrupted his wife!

Wen Zhixu walked around the screen straight to Lin Xihe, gently unfolding the booklet: “Where did this book come from?”

“Xie Lan.”

“…”

Such were the private matters shared among noble ladies.

Lin Xihe added with a smile: “Xie Lan bought me even more impressive ones that’ll arrive in a few days.”

Xie Lan had recently found a Western merchant who specialized in selling blush-inducing rare items.

The booklet in Lin Xihe’s hands was merely the most ordinary item from that merchant’s collection. For customers willing to spend heavily, he had specially made toys.

“Why buy these?” Wen Zhixu pinched her cheek as punishment.

Overly pleased with herself, Lin Xihe spilled Xie Lan’s exact words: “Xie Lan said since you’re so perverted, you deserve the most perverted things!”

“…”

Underwater contours hinted at movement. Wen Zhixu remained silent for a breath before scooping her up.

The floor was completely splashed with water.

Lin Xihe grabbed his soaked lapel: “What are you doing? I’m not dry yet!”

His eyes darkened, fixed intently on her: “Since Madam calls me perverted, I should live up to it tonight.”

“How?” The person in his arms became more alert.

He leaned close to her ear: “Starting from the first page.”

“Wen Zhixu!”

“Madam cannot call me by name tonight,” their noses touching as Wen Zhixu spoke in a deep voice, “punishment – we’ll do the second page too.”

Naturally refusing to accept punishment, she deliberately protested: “Then what should I call you?”

“Call me husband.”

Lin Xihe wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered it close to his ear.

The newlywed young man’s lips curved into a smile: “The first page cannot be skipped. Punishment starts now.”

Lin Xihe: “Wen bastard!”

.

End of main text.