Fu Songcheng took a deep breath. This extremely childish, item-wasting method was something only Yu Huaiting liked to use—frantically spamming him to confirm his presence, to confirm he was safe.
The tense, eerie atmosphere from Fu Songcheng’s just-completed room inspection was instantly scattered by the endless junk letters.
He rubbed his temples with a bit of a headache and simply closed the system.
Then he took out Yu Huaiting’s Sympathy Doll from his system backpack and raised his slender index and middle fingers to the doll’s head, giving it a neither-too-hard-nor-too-soft knock.
…
At the same time.
In the front courtyard of the Yu residence, lights blazed and the clamor shook the heavens.
Yu Huaiting sat at a square table, his face dark enough to drip water.
“Groom! On such a joyous day, why just sit there? Come, come, have a drink! Have a drink!”
An NPC with a face full of pockmarks, smiling so hard his features squished together, wobbled over to Yu Huaiting with a cup of cloudy liquor.
Yu Huaiting sat in his chair, shrinking back in resistance. The irritation around him was nearly condensing into something solid; his eyes kept darting toward the back courtyard.
If not for wanting to complete the wedding according to the procedure, he would have long since drawn his greatsword and split these eyesore NPCs—along with this table—into firewood.
“I don’t drink.”
“Aiyo, how can that be! If the groom doesn’t drink, the joy will scatter!” Another NPC came over too, shamelessly trying to stuff a cup into Yu Huaiting’s hand.
Yu Huaiting jerked his head up, shooting the NPC a fierce glare.
Under that stare, the NPC’s smile froze on his face, his hand holding the cup stopping dead in midair, not daring to push it forward.
Yu Huaiting forced down the urge to tear these monsters apart and refused all the drinks.
He leaned irritably against the chair back, turning away from those still-boisterous NPCs, and under the cover of his wide sleeves, opened the system panel.
He had no time to find paper and pen.
He could only mechanically, over and over, click the [Love Letter] item’s send button.
This was the only way he could vent the irritation of wanting to see Fu Songcheng.
Just as he was irritably about to click send on the twentieth blank love letter—
Suddenly.
Smack.
Yu Huaiting felt a neither-too-hard-nor-too-soft flick on his forehead.
The force wasn’t great.
It was Fu Songcheng’s habitual tap—resigned, yet carrying a hint of punishment.
Yu Huaiting slowly raised his hand and covered his forehead.
Then, a low, muffled laugh rolled up from his throat.
“Hehe…”
Yu Huaiting held his head, looking down, his shoulders trembling slightly—and just like that, as if no one else were around, he laughed out loud with a kind of foolish glee.
He could almost picture Fu Songcheng’s expression right now—brows slightly furrowed, eyes cold, carrying resignation and distaste.
The irritability and killing intent that had just shrouded his heart vanished into thin air under that neither-too-hard-nor-too-soft knock.
The NPCs standing behind Yu Huaiting were utterly baffled.
They silently held their cups and backed away several steps from Yu Huaiting.
The groom’s brain seemed to have some problems.
…
The sky finally went completely dark.
The banquet ended.
Yu Huaiting stood up and casually patted the elaborate wedding attire on his body.
He lifted his head and looked toward the long corridor leading to the back courtyard.
Deep in the corridor, only a few red lanterns hanging under the eaves swayed in the night wind, radiating a faint, eerie light.
This wedding had finally advanced to its final step.
Yu Huaiting’s happiness was visible to the naked eye. He strode forward on his long legs, stepping without hesitation into that dark corridor, walking briskly toward the bridal chamber.
He was going to find Fu Songcheng.
When Yu Huaiting reached the bridal chamber door, he took the key from his waist and opened the lock sealing the door.
He reached out and pressed his hand against the cold wooden door, applying a little force.
Creak—
Hearing the door, Fu Songcheng’s movement—he’d already risen to his feet—paused.
He sensed the movement outside the door, and his mind flashed through the whole process from meeting Yu Huaiting to now: his reckless flamboyance, his grievance and confusion, them winning instances together, training together in combat…
As if possessed by some ghost, Fu Songcheng sat back down on the carved wooden bed draped in the red wedding quilt. His slender fingers pinched the red veil he’d pulled off earlier—he hesitated half a second, then draped that red cloth back over his head.
His vision was instantly blocked by a dazzling red; everything around him blurred.
Fu Songcheng let out a soft breath beneath the veil. Even he found this behavior baffling.
He knew perfectly well it was a fake act—yet he actually wanted to perform it properly to the end.
The footsteps stopped at the threshold.
Yu Huaiting closed the door behind him. He turned, his gaze immediately locking onto the step-up bed in the center of the room.
Under the flickering wedding candles, Fu Songcheng sat upright on the edge of the bed.
He wore the matching elaborate wedding attire, the brilliant red fabric lending a touch of seductive allure to his otherwise cool temperament.
The red veil covered Fu Songcheng’s head, his hands folded on his knees, quiet as a true bride waiting for her husband to lift the veil.
Thump, thump…
Yu Huaiting clearly heard the violent pounding in his chest, as if it would shatter his ribs.
He even felt his breathing stop at this moment.
Yu Huaiting had assumed Fu Songcheng would analyze instance clues with him—he’d even braced himself to be scolded by Fu Songcheng a few times.
But he hadn’t expected to be greeted by this scene.
His heart lurched beyond all reason.
Fu Songcheng never said he liked him; he always seemed so rational and steady. He kept drawing Yu Huaiting toward him, yet never shared his feelings in return.
But seeing Fu Songcheng drape the veil over himself for his sake, Yu Huaiting thought—perhaps Fu Songcheng wasn’t as cold-hearted as he made himself out to be.
Perhaps he liked him too.
Perhaps this fateful binding wasn’t just one person’s stirring heart, one person’s chaotic panic.
Yu Huaiting felt his Adam’s apple roll uncontrollably; he swallowed, his throat dry and tight.
He lightened his steps, afraid of disturbing this moment of tenderness, yet treading softly and impatiently to Fu Songcheng’s front.
Yu Huaiting didn’t look for the ceremonial scale. He directly extended both hands, fingertips trembling slightly.
He pinched the edge of the red veil, took a deep breath, and slowly lifted that red cloth blocking their line of sight upward.
The veil slid off.
Fu Songcheng lifted his head slightly. Those eyes that always held reason and coldness now, under the flickering candlelight, were dyed with a layer of moist, soft light.
Looking at Yu Huaiting’s foolish state—so nervous he held his breath, not even daring to breathe loudly—the corner of his mouth curved uncontrollably into a faint, light smile, one that could utterly steal a soul.
“You…” Fu Songcheng was just about to speak.
Yu Huaiting’s reason collapsed entirely in that faint smile.
He couldn’t hold back. He abruptly leaned forward, his tall frame completely shrouding Fu Songcheng in shadow.
He drew close to Fu Songcheng, his lips pressing against his.
An extremely gentle kiss, even carrying a bit of tentativeness and caution.
Yu Huaiting merely pressed his lips to Fu Songcheng’s, rubbing softly, not even daring to use force—as if afraid of breaking the person before him.
A taste, no more.
Then Yu Huaiting drew back half an inch, opening a tiny distance.
Those eyes, reddened with excitement, stared fixedly at Fu Songcheng, his long lashes fluttering as he blinked at him.
His gaze was full of longing, yet a little careful, as if silently asking: Is this okay?
Fu Songcheng looked at him like this—somewhat speechless, and somewhat sore at heart.
You’ve already kissed, already taken advantage—why push away to ask him what for?
But he really had listened to him seriously, seriously asking for his opinion.
Good dog.
Fu Songcheng’s eyes curved slightly, tinged with an indulgence even he hadn’t noticed.
He didn’t speak. He raised both hands and hooked them around the back of Yu Huaiting’s neck.
In Yu Huaiting’s astonished gaze, Fu Songcheng’s fingers tightened, abruptly pulling his head toward himself.
Their lips crashed together again, hard.
Fu Songcheng’s action instantly ignited the thoughts Yu Huaiting had suppressed for so long. Yu Huaiting immediately took the lead—one hand cupping the back of Fu Songcheng’s head, the other tightly circling Fu Songcheng’s lean waist, pressing him dead against himself.
What was he doubting? What was he hesitating over?
He was now utterly certain, utterly sure!
Fu Songcheng wasn’t indifferent to him!
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