SES Chapter 241

Chapter 241

Later that night, Yan Hongsha and the others finally came back in a noisy, boisterous group. They all went into the room to play with Yue Xiaofeng for a while. Mu Dai seemed a little distracted. When she asked where they had gone, Yan Hongsha launched into a long, rambling account—mostly about how fun the ancient town was and how much shopping they’d done.

Mu Dai responded absently.

Yan Hongsha quickly noticed something was off and waved her hand in front of Mu Dai’s face. “What’s wrong? You look out of it.”

Cao Yanhua chimed in, “Oh, Hongsha, what do you know? My little master is about to become a bride. Of course, her state of mind is different.”

Yan Hongsha rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t know? And you do? You talk like you’ve been a bride before.”

Still, it was a convenient excuse. No matter how odd Mu Dai seemed, the others only exchanged knowing smiles. Even Wan San teased Yan Hongsha: “No sense at all. When you’re the bride one day, you’ll understand.”

Yan Hongsha fell silent, unconvinced. Why did everyone act like they were seasoned veterans?

They were the last group of guests to return that night. After they went upstairs, the courtyard gradually quieted. Mu Dai heard Brother Mao shut the main gate—the wooden doors creaked heavily, dragging out the sound, then slammed as the latch dropped into place. In the old farming days, she thought, perhaps families would wait for that sound before truly calling the day truly ended.

Mu Dai turned off the lights. Yue Xiaofeng lay properly in bed, the blanket pulled up to his chest, blinking in the dark.

Children’s eyes, untouched by the world, unclouded by hardship, shone like little stars.

“Pocket Auntie,” he said softly, “I miss Mom.”

“Mom misses you, too,” Mu Dai replied.

“Mom tells me stories and pats me to sleep.”

Mu Dai began telling him a story, gently patting him as she spoke.

She told a tale about Laozi passing through Hangu Pass—about how the green ox carrying him ran wild until it was bribed with three chocolates, and how Yin Xi chased after him in a little train, calling out, “Sir, sir, you should seal the seven evil slips…”

Before long, Yue Xiaofeng drifted off to sleep.

Mu Dai sat quietly in the darkness, listening to his soft breathing.

Then she carefully lifted the blanket and got out of bed.

Ji Tangtang had said the little boy was well-behaved—if you made him use the bathroom before bed, he wouldn’t wake in the night and would sleep soundly until morning. Still, Mu Dai worried he might roll off the bed, so she moved chairs to block both sides and stacked pillows along the edge.

Only then did she cautiously open the door and step outside.

The night air was cool. The small study in the center of the courtyard reflected the moonlight with a faint glassy glow. Holding her breath, Mu Dai climbed the wooden stairs slowly. The steps creaked at the slightest pressure, as though they knew her secret.

On the second floor, she remembered Luo Ren’s room was the third on the right. She moved as quietly as she could. At night, even the faintest sounds traveled—passing the second room, she heard Cao Yanhua cough and grumble irritably as he turned over.

She reached Luo Ren’s room. The light was off. The door was slightly ajar, like a silent invitation.

Mu Dai bit her lip, her heart pounding, and sighed at herself.

Aunt Hong and her master had raised her to be a proper lady—self-respecting, mindful of propriety. Never had she imagined that one day she would sneak into a man’s room in the middle of the night—and willingly, at that.

I deserve to be scorned, she thought.

After a few seconds of self-reproach, she didn’t turn back. She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Everyone harbors a secret desire to surrender a little—to sink into something they cannot speak of in the quiet of night, though they refuse to deny it.

It took her only a second to realize Luo Ren wasn’t there.

Unwilling to accept it, she walked further in and touched the bed. The sheets were cool. The blanket was folded neatly. She lay down on it, then suddenly kicked the blanket aside in irritation.

“Luo Xiaodao, liar! Jerk!” she muttered.

After a moment, she got up and called him, still bristling.

He answered quickly, chuckling softly. “Oh? You went.”

Her face flushed. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“Come out. I’m outside.”

“Brother Mao already locked the gate.”

“Is that really a problem for you?”

Before she could reply, he hung up.

Clutching her phone, Mu Dai felt indignant. Meeting her own boyfriend in the middle of the night, only to find his room empty—and now she had to climb rooftops and walls? Was she really that eager?

She sulked for a while but did it anyway.

Perhaps it was the evil slips—her usual light-footedness felt effortless tonight. She climbed up onto the long ridge of the inn’s roof and saw the quiet bluestone alley stretching through the ancient town. At the far end, Luo Ren leaned against a lamppost, a cigarette between his fingers.

He looked up at her. The thin smoke glowed faintly yellow under the light. Against that hazy backdrop, she stood on the rooftop, her long hair lifting with the breeze, her clothes pressed close to her body, outlining her slender waist.

She came down quickly, slightly awkward. The short distance between them felt long.

When she reached him, she glanced aside. “Don’t you dislike smoking?”

He crushed the cigarette out against the wall and pulled her into his arms, lowering his head so their lips and breaths brushed as he spoke.

“I don’t usually. But sometimes… it adds to the mood.”

Subtle, yet unmistakable. The faint scent of smoke mingled with her breath. Her voice trembled slightly.

“Aren’t we getting married tomorrow? Why tonight?”

If it were her, no matter how much she wanted something, she would have waited for an important day.

“Because I’m in a good mood today,” he said.

She glared at him. He laughed and finally told the truth.

“The wedding is for other people’s excitement. The fortune-teller dragged guests from everywhere. Tomorrow will be full of ceremonies, rituals, drinking, pranks—how could I focus?”

“You really think Hongsha and the others were shopping all day?”

“And that little brat doesn’t look like he’s leaving anytime soon. If he starts making noise tomorrow night, I’ll get a headache.”

Mu Dai laughed. Luo Ren always had his reasons, and she never had much to argue.

She tugged at his shirt, her palm damp with nervous sweat. After a pause, she asked softly, “Then why come out here?”

He glanced toward the inn. “Brother Mao’s place is great in every way except one.”

“What?”

“It’s not soundproof.”

His room had Cao Yanhua on one side and Yan Hongsha on the other. Cao Yanhua’s snoring was practically in his ear. Staying there would have been madness.

He took her hand. “Let’s go.”

She didn’t ask where. Luo Ren always had a plan.

They walked hand in hand, over uneven bluestone steps and through winding alleys, sometimes stopping to glance at an interesting shop or laugh at exaggerated slogans. She thought she wouldn’t mind walking like this forever.

Eventually, they arrived.

Compared to Brother Mao’s central inn, this place was remote. Few guests stayed here, so the owner had focused on long-term rentals—thoughtfully designed, independent little courtyards.

They turned into one—pebbled paths wound through a small yard. Half the courtyard had been turned into a pond with a tall rock formation. Soft underwater lights cast a dim glow as water trickled down like a miniature waterfall. Tiny clay figurines dotted the rocks—hunters, farmers tending fires, herders, figures with oil-paper umbrellas, others bowing politely.

With the sound of flowing water in her ears, Mu Dai entered the house. The door closed. Moonlight painted a silver line beneath the window.

“Aren’t you turning on the light?” she asked.

“Too much trouble to turn it on and off.”

She swallowed. In theory, her vision should have adjusted quickly, but everything felt uncertain in the dark. The room seemed large and cool. Their breathing brushed invisibly together.

She could make out his silhouette as he removed his shirt and came toward her.

The rest of the night unfolded in quiet intimacy—hesitation giving way to closeness, nervousness melting into warmth, two people surrendering to the moment they had chosen together.

…

Mu Dai woke at dawn.

The morning light was tinged with gold. The air carried a faint warmth. Luo Ren seemed to have woken earlier; when she stirred, he looked down at her.

The blanket slipped, revealing her pale shoulder, faintly marked, her dark hair spilling across her chest. The golden light softened everything.

The world felt newly remade.

She tried to pull the blanket up, but he wouldn’t let her. He leaned over her, studying her quietly.

Suddenly, the phone’s speaker rang out: “Hello?”

It was Cao Yanhua’s voice. Luo Ren had dialed him.

The outside world’s intrusion felt jarring. Mu Dai tensed, barely daring to breathe. Luo Ren only smiled, holding the phone to his ear.

“You up? Go check on Yue Xiaofeng. He’s alone in the room—I’m afraid he’ll wake and start fussing.”

“Yue Xiaofeng? Didn’t he sleep with my little master?”

“He did,” Luo Ren murmured casually. “Last night I took Mu Dai out to look at the stars.”

Really? Was the kid alone?

Though the night had been quiet, Cao Yanhua hurried out of bed anyway, hopping on one foot as he searched for his missing shoe, grumbling all the while.

He flung open the door—

—and suddenly the courtyard below erupted with lively noise, like relatives arriving unexpectedly back in Cao Family Village.

He leaned over the railing to look.

Brother Mao and his wife were beaming. The fortune-teller stood nearby with two large plastic bags filled with wedding decorations, gesturing animatedly as he spoke.

Then, cutting through everything, Yue Xiaofeng’s delighted voice rang out across the courtyard:

“Mom! Mom!”