He’d found another opening.
Jiang Nong had talked herself into a corner—how cunning.
Yu Lingxin’s kisses landed on her nose, her lips.
“Don’t you want to poison me and become Empress Dowager? How about we make a crown prince right now?”
They’d been married since last October—almost a year now. The only time they’d actually done it was the third day after the wedding, and even that had been cut short when Yu Lingxin slipped up.
In the prime of youth, Yu Lingxin was remarkably restrained. Jiang Nong couldn’t help but respect him a little for it.
He licked her lips, his wet tongue sweeping over them in fine, close strokes. Jiang Nong lightly tapped his face and said: “To the bed.”
He froze—hadn’t expected her to be so agreeable this time.
Jiang Nong’s hand was still on his face. She touched it again: “If you don’t want to, forget it.”
Before she could finish, she was swept up into his arms.
Layer upon layer of curtains fell.
They kissed, held, touched—clothes came off. Then Jiang Nong said she didn’t want to anymore.
Yu Lingxin’s eyes were red. He was so pent up that veins bulged on his forearms. He lay over her, breathing hard for a long time, staring at her with a strange look.
If he couldn’t tell she was toying with him by now, he’d be brainless.
His jaw was clenched tight—a little frightening. Jiang Nong wasn’t scared at all. She kissed his cheek: “Alright, I’m going to bathe. You handle it yourself. Why do you lick people like a dog? I’m all sticky.”
She’d barely slipped out from under him when she was dragged back—she yelped in surprise. Yu Lingxin bit her collarbone, his hot breath spilling over her neck, his wet kisses fierce as they trailed to her ear, biting her earlobe.
Now Jiang Nong was afraid. She pushed against his chest: “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait—”
“Jiang Nong! Are you playing with me? Am I fun?” Yu Lingxin’s hoarse voice carried a hint of moisture. His head dropped, and he kissed her chin.
Before anger at her deliberate teasing could reach him, what arrived first was excitement and sweetness. His heart was about to leap out of his throat.
Why would Jiang Nong play with him and not someone else? Would she do this in bed with just anyone for fun? Of course not. Didn’t that mean she saw him differently?
He knew thinking like this made him seem cheap—but wasn’t it true?
Besides, he’d only think it inwardly—never show it. How would Jiang Nong ever know? How could she think less of him for it?
Still remarkably restrained—with a hint of pitifulness. Jiang Nong’s earlier alarm faded. The points she’d deducted for thinking he might force himself on her were added back. She couldn’t help stroking his hair.
Yu Lingxin seized the opportunity, murmuring about using her thighs. Before Jiang Nong could react, she was pinned down, kissed breathless—no chance to refuse.
They were both red. Just rubbing, he said—so why did it go on so long?
Jiang Nong propped herself up and slapped him—only to find him hard again. Terrified, she tried to escape, only to be dragged back for more rubbing, with him holding her hand and kissing her.
This time her thighs were chafed raw. She didn’t dare slap him again—afraid of triggering another incident. All she could do was stare breathlessly at the canopy while he kissed her.
Yu Lingxin grabbed her undergarment to wipe her. The white silk was soaked dark in a large patch. The sheet was stained too. His fingers traced up her tender, scraped thigh: “Some got inside.”
Jiang Nong pulled the blanket over herself, rolled twice, and told him to get lost while covering her face.
Yu Lingxin was already that old—why was she still shy?
Seeing her wrapped up like a silkworm cocoon, he pressed against her, then carried her to the soft couch while he changed the sheets, then carried her back and drew a bath.
The pool was large. Jiang Nong sat underwater, back to him, blowing bubbles.
She confirmed again and again—Yu Lingxin was still fairly obedient. A little disobedience now and then was acceptable.
But obedience was one thing. Liking was another.
In October, before the frost, all the grain crops were harvested and collected. By November, the first tax collection under the new Fujing land tax reform was complete.
The results were remarkable. Not only had land consolidation been curbed, but tax revenue had increased by thirty percent compared to previous years. Many wealthy households began selling off land, and large tracts returned to the people.
Only the issue of hereditary household servants’ land remained unresolved.
But the ultimate goal of gradual legal reform was to phase out the slave register altogether. Once implemented, the problem would be solved.
Hired servants—those who received monthly wages—were of “good” registry, not owned by their masters. Masters dared not register private property under their names, since they’d lose any lawsuit over ownership. Those servants’ lands also weren’t counted under the new tax laws.
Only those sold outright to their masters—permanently, registered as servants in government records—were hereditary household servants, bound to servitude for generations, their lives at their masters’ mercy.
Since the new tax law was piloted, many had proposed including non-registered servants into the slave registry—for easier management. Everyone knew what they were really after.
Yu Lingxin rejected it several times, and no one dared bring it up again.
In any case, the new land tax had yielded remarkable results this year—sufficient to prove it could be implemented nationwide.
By mid-November, the salt and iron taxes had come in, easing the treasury somewhat. The poll tax had been waived for three years due to the imperial wedding, so it wasn’t counted for now. If the new land tax could bring in as much additional revenue as it had in Fujing, then in Jiang Nong’s view, the poll tax could continue to be exempted.
Several heavy snowfalls had fallen in succession—thick layers of snow that crunched loudly underfoot.
Jiang Nong loved going out during snowfalls—the weather was milder then. After the snow stopped, she didn’t like moving around; the cold was biting, the wind like knives slapping her face. A walk outside could flay her skin.
Xin Yao would turn fifteen after November. Xunliang had been keeping an eye out among the court officials for a suitable match, presenting candidates to Jiang Nong for her review. After much deliberation, Jiang Nong also favored Li Ji.
He was honest, diligent, down-to-earth, responsible, and reasonably presentable. His father had been a general who died in battle early; his mother passed away from grief. He had no other relatives—his household was simple, even somewhat impoverished.
Young and accomplished—he’d received an honorary appointment at thirteen and had steadily built his career. The only issue was his age: at twenty-six, he was considerably older than Xin Yao.
Jiang Nong said she’d think about it some more.
Xunliang gathered the stack of booklets with a rustle, smiling: “No rush indeed—she’s only fifteen. Plenty of options. Waiting another four or five years is still fine.”
The north wind rattled the window lattices with a “thump-thump,” like a ghost’s wail. Night had fallen, but Yu Lingxin was nowhere to be seen.
Jiang Nong suddenly remembered him and asked Xunliang where he’d gone.
Xunliang usually stayed close to Yu Lingxin.
“I don’t know, Your Highness. His Majesty said he wanted to go out alone for a stroll—probably nearby.”
Jiang Nong frowned. Out alone?
On such a cold day—how could he be so reckless? What if he froze to death and no one knew?
She nodded and dismissed Xunliang to rest, then turned back to her book. But she couldn’t concentrate—she’d flipped her bookmark around several times before realizing she hadn’t turned a single page in ages.
Jiang Nong threw on her cloak. She thought: I’ll just take a short walk nearby—step on some snow. What danger could there be?
The snow was so white, so thick, gleaming in the moonlight. It would be a waste not to step on it.
The north wind whipped her face, tangling her hair. She pulled her hood tighter, wrapping herself up more securely.
She hadn’t gone far before she spotted Yu Lingxin standing alone in the snow of the small garden—dressed in black, face deathly pale, like a lone ghost drifting eerily about.
If she hadn’t recognized him, she would have been startled.
Scattered snowballs surrounded him. He held a branch in his hand, standing thin and underdressed in the snow, writing something on the ground.
Jiang Nong walked over. The deep snow made slipping less likely, but it still crunched unpleasantly underfoot.
“The weather’s so cold—what are you doing out so late?”
Yu Lingxin scuffed the characters in the snow with his foot and said: “Nothing. The hall was too hot. I came out for some air.”
Jiang Nong didn’t believe him. She pressed her warm palm to his face: “Cold as ice—and you say you’re hot. Only ghosts aren’t afraid of the cold.”
“I never said I was human. What if I really am a ghost?”
Jiang Nong thumped his chest: “Could be. You usually feel cold anyway. Come on—let’s go back. It’s late—time for bed.”
No—something felt off. Jiang Nong had come out for a walk—why was she immediately saying she’d go back to bed as soon as she saw him?
Wouldn’t that make it look like she’d come out just to find him?
She added: “You go sleep. I’ll walk a bit more. It really is too hot in the hall.”
Yu Lingxin had thought Jiang Nong came out specifically to look for him—but no. He might as well have frozen to death outside; she probably wouldn’t shed a tear.
“I don’t want to go back yet.” Was he supposed to wait alone in bed for her—like a neglected wife waiting for her husband?
“Then let’s walk together…” The truth was, Jiang Nong didn’t see what was so worth walking around for in this freezing weather. It was all Yu Lingxin’s fault.
She turned, her face buried in her fur collar, and started walking. Yu Lingxin erased Jiang Nong’s name from the snow and followed.
Moonlight streamed down from above. Jiang Nong’s shadow fell diagonally across him.
Yu Lingxin wanted to be covered by her shadow, yet didn’t want to step on it. He crouched down and touched the snow her shadow had fallen on.
“Why aren’t you walking? Why are you crouching? Do you want to play in the snow?” Jiang Nong turned when she didn’t hear him, her gaze falling on him just as his hand touched her shadow.
Yu Lingxin’s breath caught. An indescribable shame and irritation surged up—then, in his panic, he suddenly grew still. He scooped up a handful of snow and threw it at her: “Snowball fight—ever played one?”
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