Chapter 21: Sleeping with the Husband

Chapter 21: Sharing a Bed with the Husband

After a long autumn rain, the weather suddenly turned chilly. At night, Wen Xi felt his nose itch as he slept. Afraid of waking Yan Fengan beside him, he pulled the blanket over his head and let out a few muffled sneezes.

The two slept in the same bed, and though each had their own blanket, only a thin gap separated them. How could Yan Fengan not notice all that rustling?

"Are you cold?" The man sleeping beside him reached a hand out from his own blanket, feeling around in the dark until he found Wen Xi's ice-cold hand.

Wen Xi was easily startled, and at the touch, his body went stiff again. Hearing the concern in Yan Fengan's voice, he instinctively deflected: "N-no... I'm not cold."

As if he'd expected that answer, Yan Fengan chuckled softly and gave his fingers a squeeze. "But I feel so cold."

His hand was clearly warm—how could he possibly be cold?

Before Wen Xi could puzzle it out, Yan Fengan spoke again: "What should I do, Xiao Xi? I'm really cold."

Hearing this, Wen Xi quickly pulled his own blanket toward him. "Like this... will it be better?"

Yan Fengan curved his lips and asked, "If you give me your blanket, what will you do?"

Wen Xi lied through his teeth: "It's... it's fine. I'm not cold."

Yan Fengan said, "You're not cold, but I am. Isn't it a wife's duty to warm her husband's bed? Come share my blanket."

Wen Xi caught his meaning, and his ears burned bright red with embarrassment. A refusal rose to his lips, but he swallowed it back down.

Though he didn't know much, he understood that a married couple shouldn't be as distant as they were. After spending this time together, his wariness toward Yan Fengan had eased considerably, and he no longer feared or resisted him as he had when first married.

Since he was now the man's spouse, sharing a blanket was only right.

Wen Xi steadied himself and whispered, "Okay."

Hearing his agreement, Yan Fengan lifted a corner of his blanket and pulled Wen Xi toward him by the hand.

Wen Xi tried to stay calm, but his pounding heart was loud in the darkness. The moment he slipped under Yan Fengan's blanket, warmth flooded in from all sides, wrapping around his icy hands and feet.

Men really were different from boys like him—even a scholar like Yan Fengan was sturdier. Even without touching, Wen Xi could feel the heat radiating off him.

Once he was under the same blanket, Wen Xi's body, which he'd barely managed to relax, went rigid again. At the slightest movement from Yan Fengan, even his toes curled up.

Yan Fengan seemed not to notice his stiffness, sitting up to tuck the blanket around him.

Wen Xi's breath caught. The man then loosely wrapped an arm around his slender waist and said, "You're so cold. Come closer, let me warm you up."

Wen Xi hesitated, then slowly inched into Yan Fengan's arms. A little further and his head would be buried in the crook of Yan Fengan's neck. His cheeks flushed crimson, his lashes fluttering like startled butterflies, and he didn't dare move another inch.

Yan Fengan's hand slid to Wen Xi's back, patting it gently like he was soothing a child. He closed his eyes and said, "Now neither of us is cold. Let's sleep."

Yan Fengan's gentle care made Wen Xi's nose tingle with emotion. No one had ever coaxed him to sleep like this. He glanced up at Yan Fengan's handsome face, and a strange, hollow feeling welled up in his chest.

He didn't understand why Yan Fengan's kindness made him feel both happy and sad, both mournful and tender.

His heart raced like he'd caught some illness. The heat from Yan Fengan's tall body kept washing over him, leaving Wen Xi flustered and confused. He instinctively wanted to squirm out of his arms, but deep down he craved the warmth.

In the quiet night, two frantic heartbeats tangled together in an unsteady rhythm. Wen Xi listened for a while, then finally reached out and grabbed hold of Yan Fengan's clothes, as if that would settle his heart.

The next morning, just as Yan Fengan was half-awake, he felt something extra in his arms. Opening his eyes, he saw the timid boy who was always nervous around him curled up in his arms like a contented baby, cheeks faintly pink, sleeping soundly.

Yan Fengan found it adorable. He wanted to pinch Wen Xi's soft cheeks but was afraid of waking him, so he tried to get up extra carefully—only to find Wen Xi still clutching his clothes. The slightest movement jolted the boy awake.

Afraid Wen Xi would be embarrassed, Yan Fengan quickly shut his eyes and pretended to still be asleep.

Wen Xi blinked groggily, and when he realized where he was, his face flushed. Luckily, Yan Fengan beside him was still sound asleep—if he'd seen him like this, Wen Xi would've been too mortified to show his face.

The clothes he'd been clutching all night were wrinkled. Wen Xi let go and carefully tried to smooth them out, but when he couldn't get them back to normal, he thought guiltily: It's such a small spot—surely Yan Fengan won't notice?

In truth, the man not only noticed but would later ask him privately: "Xiao Xi, after sleeping with you last night, a wrinkle appeared on my inner robe. Do you know how that happened?"

Wen Xi shook his head like a rattle: "I... I don't know."

The man looked at him with a knowing smile. "You really don't know?"

Though he didn't know what he was smiling about, Wen Xi could tell there was something mischievous in it. He lowered his eyes, fumbling with the *Three Character Classic* in his hands, flustered: "Really!"

"Then I must have wrinkled it while I was sleeping." Yan Fengan knew he couldn't handle much teasing, and after making the boy's face turn bright red, he let the matter drop. "Can you recite the passage I taught you yesterday?"

Wen Xi, grateful for the change of subject, nodded eagerly: "Yes."

These past few days, he'd been learning needlework with his sisters-in-law while squeezing in time to learn characters with Yan Fengan. Though busy, he felt deeply fulfilled.

Yan Fengan put on his schoolmaster act: "Then recite it for me. If you can't, I'll have to smack your hand."

Wen Xi closed the book, swallowed, and began softly from "Men at their birth," reciting all the way to "To feed without teaching is the father's fault; to teach without strictness is the teacher's laziness," before letting out a long breath.

Even though he knew Yan Fengan wouldn't actually hit him, he couldn't help being nervous.

Wen Xi was steady and calm by nature—whether sewing or studying, he could focus and learn seriously, so he improved quickly.

Yan Fengan opened the book and pointed to a character Wen Xi had just recited. "Do you know what this character is?"

Wen Xi leaned in to look and saw it was the "Yan" from "to teach without strictness." After a moment's thought, he ventured uncertainly, "Is it the Yan from your name, Yan Fengan?"

Yan Fengan smiled and tapped his nose. "You really are clever. Today I'll teach you to write my name."

He spread a sheet of rough paper used for drafts on the desk, dipped a brush in the inkstone, and wrote his name.

His handwriting was as elegant and refined as he was—neat and clean, without any sharpness or edge.

Wen Xi looked at the three neatly written characters, and his heart inexplicably skipped a beat. When Yan Fengan handed him the brush, he shook his head in refusal: "No... my writing is too ugly. I'd disgrace your name."

When writing his own name, he'd never had such strange thoughts, but with Yan Fengan's name, he hesitated to even try, feeling that if he didn't write it well, he'd somehow taint the man himself.

"It's fine—with practice you'll improve. Come, I'll teach you."

Yan Fengan placed the brush in Wen Xi's hand. As Wen Xi hesitated, Yan Fengan stood behind him, bent slightly, braced one hand on the desk, and wrapped the other around Wen Xi's brush-holding hand. Compared to him, Wen Xi wasn't tall, and his frame was slender—the posture made it seem as if Yan Fengan had gathered the whole of him into his arms.

Their bodies were nearly pressed together. Wen Xi felt heat radiating from behind, spreading from his neck to the tips of his ears.

He should have felt repulsed, but his mind couldn't muster any resistance. He was dazed, unable to think, simply following Yan Fengan's lead.

"Don't be nervous—it's fine if you make mistakes." Yan Fengan's voice drifted down from above, soft and low, carrying his habitual smile. "Your hand is too stiff. Relax. If you're too tense, the characters will come out rigid and lifeless."

His gentle voice was right by Wen Xi's ear, his breath brushing through Wen Xi's hair and across his cheeks, making them itch—but he dared not scratch.

"Did you remember everything I just said?"

Wen Xi had remembered nothing, but he nodded firmly anyway: "I did. Let go—I... I'll write it myself."

Yan Fengan smiled, pulling back slightly, and as he looked at Wen Xi's peach-blossom cheeks, the smile in his eyes deepened.

He didn't hold back his laughter, and Wen Xi felt a bit annoyed but dared not turn back to look.

He couldn't quite say what the two of them were doing, but he understood it wasn't just teaching writing. He bit his lip, hung his head, and muttered, "You did that on purpose."

Yan Fengan feigned confusion: "Hmm? What did I do on purpose?"

Wen Xi's cheeks flushed so red they seemed about to drip blood. He turned and cast a gentle glare at him, his eyes weren't angry in the usual way—they shimmered with a thin layer of moisture, somewhat aggrieved, somewhat shy.

That pitiful, endearing look stirred a strange heat in Yan Fengan's heart. He itched to do something, but it didn't feel right. After a flustered moment, he raised his hand to cover Wen Xi's watery eyes.

"Alright, don't be upset. I truly didn't mean it. I'll move farther away from you—you can write slowly on your own, okay?"

Wen Xi blinked, his eyelashes brushing lightly against Yan Fengan's palm. Just as he was about to say something, Tao'er's voice came from outside the door: "Uncle Xiao Xi, Brother Shen Yun is here looking for you."

Glad to be saved from that tense moment, Wen Xi put down the brush and hurried out.