Continuous kisses traced over her collarbone, her heaving chest. His lips paused over her heart, reverently feeling its beat.
Warm. Alive. Soft. Not a cold corpse.
It was a living Jiang Nong—a Jiang Nong who, knowing he was no good person, had still chosen to love him.
When Jiang Nong had hated him, Yu Lingxin had accepted it with equanimity. But ever since they’d confessed their feelings, he’d been plagued by the fear that he was clutching Jiang Nong’s body in an ice cellar, frozen out of his mind, dreaming this beautiful dream.
But it was no dream. Jiang Nong’s warm, soft fingers threaded through his hair, tugging at his scalp, while she bit the web of her other hand, stifling her gasps.
Yu Lingxin kissed her heart, then his hot, wet mouth continued downward—inch by inch, past her stomach, leaving a trail of pale pink marks in its wake.
Jiang Nong’s fair skin flushed pink. She bit down harder on her hand, tears trembling at the corners of her eyes. Her calves rested over Yu Lingxin’s broad shoulders; she was shaking so much he had to hold her legs steady, pressing tiny red blooms into her tender thighs with his lips.
His chin glistened, wet and slick. He lifted his head and saw her flushed cheeks, his heart stirred, and he leaned in for a kiss. Jiang Nong was too weak to push him away.
“Did it feel good?”
Jiang Nong shyly closed her eyes and nodded, then weakly touched his hair where she’d pulled it, signaling he could continue.
He held her waist, and in an instant the world spun. Their positions reversed. Jiang Nong clung tightly to his neck in surprise, her soft, disheveled black hair spilling across her pale skin—half-covering, half-revealing, playing hard to get, beautiful as a water spirit emerging beneath the moonlight on a lake. Yu Lingxin breathed against her ear, whispering: “Ride me, Jiang Nong. You’re so beautiful—I want to see you.”
He brushed the stray hair from her cheek and pressed a kiss to her face.
Love you so much. You’re beautiful no matter what. I want to see you lost in pleasure, want to be at your mercy.
It was the first time she’d taken the lead. She held onto his waist and slowly rose. Yu Lingxin’s breathing grew heavier with each drag of her body, yet he still didn’t rush her. But Jiang Nong simply didn’t have the strength—after a few moments, she collapsed against him, crying that she couldn’t go on.
Yu Lingxin rolled them over, kissed her hair, and took back control.
Jiang Nong silently apologized for having doubted him earlier—and even wished her wicked thoughts had come true. Not completely, but half—
It felt like being back in the previous life, trapped in bed with him day and night. The silver lining was that his skill had improved since then. But the feeling of losing control still frightened her. She didn’t want to sob too loudly, so she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her face to his chest, and let the tears fall in silence.
She was carried, half-conscious, into the warm spring water. Yu Lingxin murmured “sister” against her ear. Jiang Nong reached out and patted his head, thinking he was being clingy—only to realize moments later that he just wanted to go again, this time in the water.
It was excessive, but she was his good big sister, so she didn’t refuse.
He washed her clean, dried her in his arms, wrapped her in a large blanket, and carried her out—one hand under her knees, the other cradling her neck—gently patting her back so she could sleep more soundly.
Jiang Nong, losing consciousness, burrowed deeper into his arms, held him, and slept soundly.
Yu Lingxin covered her bare arm, propped his head up, and watched her in the candlelight.
Even though she’d hidden her face completely in his chest—not a sliver visible—he still stared at the crown of her head, entranced. He carefully smoothed her tangled hair, his heart melting. Occasionally, he’d bend down and silently kiss the top of her head, careful not to wake her.
He must have kissed her to sleep at some point. At dawn, the birds outside chirped. Half-asleep, Yu Lingxin couldn’t tell dream from reality. A sudden thought jolted him: What is real, and what is a dream? Is Jiang Nong loving me something I dreamed, or is it real? Is this very thought another layer of dreaming?
He startled awake, his heart pounding like a war drum, his back tingling with palpitations.
He touched Jiang Nong, still curled beside him, and his racing heart slowly calmed.
He stroked her hair with joy and tenderness.
Jiang Nong stirred at his movement, groggily opening her eyes before closing them again. She hugged his arm and patted his back.
Yu Lingxin pressed his forehead to hers and pleaded: “Don’t sleep yet—Jiang Nong, who am I?”
Such a boring question.
“Yu Lingxin…”
“Do you love me?”
“…Love you.” Satisfied he had no more childish questions, Jiang Nong collapsed and went back to sleep—leaving Yu Lingxin alone, lying there in excitement, wanting to touch her but afraid to, so he simply kissed the ends of her hair.
His fears of dreams within dreams were gone. From now on, whenever he had such dreams, he’d know they were false—because the Jiang Nong in reality loved him.
For the first time, Yu Lingxin woke before Jiang Nong. After morning court, she was still asleep. He chose between waking her for breakfast or letting her sleep—and decided to crawl back under the covers and sleep with her instead.
Jiang Nong slept until noon. She rubbed her eyes and stretched herself into a long line. Yu Lingxin promptly buried his face in her belly and inhaled deeply.
“Hey—that tickles. Don’t breathe on my stomach.” Jiang Nong’s stretch was interrupted, and she pushed his head away, clutching her belly.
Yu Lingxin obediently wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled into the crook of her neck instead.
She still squirmed from the ticklish sensation: “Stop sniffing me. If you insist on inhaling something, get a cat.”
“Don’t want a cat.” He didn’t want a cat or a dog—he didn’t want anything. In this household, only the two of them should be breathing. When the time came, he’d marry off Rong Mian and the others and send them out of the palace. Then Jiang Nong would have only him—and would only need to love him.
Jiang Nong didn’t know his dark thoughts. She assumed he just didn’t like cats. She rolled around in his arms a few times and flopped back onto the bed, half-dead: “Fine then. If you don’t like them, we won’t get one.”
Yu Lingxin felt a surge of pride—that one word from him carried so much weight with her. It proved how much she valued him.
After only a brief rest on the bed, Jiang Nong bounced back with full energy to handle her affairs.
The land she’d enclosed near the Meng River had already been planted with selected fruit saplings. Now, at the end of May, some early varieties had ripened. Tan Jingming had sent a batch by express courier; it was already on its way.
Before the fruit was even planted, Jiang Nong had already built up its reputation—royal tribute, cream of the crop, something only the imperial family could savor.
Nobles from all the kingdoms had placed orders with the Minister of Agriculture, but all were rejected. Word was that the Empress had personally enclosed that land, reserved solely for family, friends, and Tan’s royal tribute.
What you can’t have is always the best. Hearing this only made everyone more desperate to get their hands on it.
Jiang Nong wasn’t selling just this one plot’s yield—she was using it to build a brand, to sell Tan’s fruits and vegetables at premium prices.
Tan lacked rich mineral deposits, and its geography wasn’t suited for tea or sericulture. Its rolling hills made farmland patchy, limiting grain production for export. To gently boost the economy, she had to take a different path and sell what this land produced best.
The region’s high elevation and northern position meant longer growing seasons and greater temperature differences—resulting in sweeter fruit. But fruits didn’t keep well, and other kingdoms produced them too—why pay double for Tan’s?
That was where marketing came in. You had to build the hype first. Even good wine needs a way out of a deep alley.
Her plan was to first use the fruits from the plains near the Meng River to gather a large influx of capital from nobles across the kingdoms. That money would then be used to improve the official trade routes, making future transport easier.
She knew exactly how many silver coins sat in the treasury. After the land tax reform, the first half of the year’s revenue had come in—much better than the year before—but still not enough to build official roads without stretching thin. Though the court wouldn’t openly oppose her, the ministers would grumble. And she couldn’t guarantee success either—but selling to fund the roads, using revenue to build four trade routes first, shouldn’t draw objection.
The first batch of fruit arrived in two days by swift relay, heading south into the palace. The peach leaves were still fresh and dewy, the peaches as big as steamed buns—white with a pink blush, round and plump, a delight to the eyes.
When the second batch ripened, Jiang Nong sent it to Xi—to Jiang Yuan, Empress Dowager Fu, and others.
After the Grand Commandant usurped the throne, on the surface he didn’t mistreat the old royal family; he still preserved the honors of princes and princesses. Empress Dowager Fu remained titled as such. Jiang Nong had wanted to bring her to Tan for her remaining years, but Empress Dowager Fu declined, citing her age and unwillingness to leave her homeland.
Jiang Nong knew she couldn’t bear to leave where her daughter was buried, so she didn’t press.
Tan to Xi was a long journey. Three horses were changed along the way, and after five days and a thousand li, the fresh fruit arrived—still fresh, kept cool with layers of ice.
Word had spread that Meng River fruit was rare—even nobles found it hard to come by. The moment Tan’s courier arrived, curious commoners began to gather outside Jiang Yuan’s residence.
Jiang Yuan had already received Jiang Nong’s letter. Right at her gate, she couldn’t wait to open the carved wooden chest. A chill of cold air hit her—and she put on the most dramatic performance of her life for her dear friend. She gasped, held up a massive peach, and showered it with praise.
She wasn’t exaggerating, either. The peaches were cultivated from carefully selected stock, planted on the fertile floodplains of the Meng River, tended with care, and blessed by the unique climate of northern Tan. They looked like celestial peaches—enough to dazzle the onlookers.
“Truly a fairy peach—I’ve never seen one so large and full.”
Someone swallowed: “Is it fake? How could a peach grow like that?”
Jiang Yuan, determined to boost the sales, furrowed her brows: “I am a princess—would I not recognize a real peach? This is the finest peach! Even in the palace, I’ve never seen such a treasure.”
More swallowing sounds rose from the crowd.
“If only… if only I could taste one. Such a beautiful peach—pink skin, crisp flesh—it must be so sweet…”
“Gulp—you’re dreaming. I heard the prefect himself sent gold to Tan to buy fruit for his mother’s sixtieth birthday—couldn’t get a single one. How could we ever taste it?”
“If only we had the chance. Even if we can’t get Meng River peaches, other fruit from Tan can’t be that bad, right?”
“Our kingdom doesn’t trade much with Tan… it might be hard…”
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