Chapter Fourteen: When Spring Blossoms

Spring had arrived, awakening all living things. In the Carefree Valley, pear blossoms blanketed the branches in great swathes, their whiteness surpassing even snow. When the spring breeze swept through, petals fluttered down like snowflakes, landing on Zhan Yan’s white gauze skirt—a sight too beautiful for words. Gazing at the garden ablaze with pear blossoms, Zhan Yan’s spirits soared.

Zhongli Yu sat quietly atop a distant tree, a gentle expression on his face as he watched the woman weaving through the woods. His heart brimmed with tenderness. It seemed that even all these blossoms could not rival her beauty in the slightest.

“Have you admired enough?” Zhan Yan arched an eyebrow at the tree trunk in the distance, having long since noticed his arrival.

Zhongli Yu alighted softly before her—soundless, dustless. He smiled as he looked at her, the pear blossoms embroidered on his pale blue robe echoing those in the garden, so beautiful they seemed unreal.

She had always known he was highly skilled in martial arts, but she hadn’t expected his lightness skills to be so extraordinary, Zhan Yan thought to herself in silent admiration.

“You…” Zhan Yan had just opened her mouth to speak when he pulled her into his embrace, pressing her head against his chest.

“Yan’er, do you know that I’ve missed you?” His voice was husky.

In an instant, Zhan Yan’s face flushed crimson. She dared not look up at him. Nestled in his arms, she felt a sense of security, just as she had ten years ago when he carried her on his back. He held her for a long time, unwilling to let her go. Only when she began to struggle did he finally release her.

“Have you decided yet? When will you marry me?” He looked at her expectantly.

Zhan Yan hesitated for a moment. “I…”

“You’re not allowed to say you won’t marry me.” Fearing she would refuse, he cut her off imperiously.

Unable to hold back a laugh, Zhan Yan replied, “I haven’t said anything yet.”

“Then there’s no need to say it. I’ll take it as a yes,” he declared.

Zhan Yan looked at him, speechless. “Young Master Zhongli, I haven’t even come of age. I can’t marry yet.”

“So you mean you’ll marry me once you do. You said it yourself—no take-backs.”

“Zhongli Yu, could you possibly be more domineering?”

“When it comes to you, of course I can. It’s the only way to keep you from shirking responsibility.”

Zhan Yan was at a loss for words. This man—hailed by the world as a legend—seemed almost younger than she was when he was with her. Rumors, it seemed, could not be trusted.

“Don’t you have anything better to do? You’re always coming to see me,” Zhan Yan said, deliberately changing the subject.

“I hardly come every day—it’s been three days since I last came.” He sounded dissatisfied with her remark. Hmph, heartless woman. She didn’t seem to miss him at all, and even complained about his frequent visits.

“Oh, very well.” Not wishing to argue, Zhan Yan took him by the sleeve. “Come, let me have you taste the new grape wine I’ve just brewed. Let’s see if the flavor is right.”

“All right.” Zhongli Yu wrapped her small hand in his large one, leading her toward the courtyard. A faint blush colored Zhan Yan’s cheeks. This was the first time, besides her father, that a man had held her hand. It wasn’t a bad feeling at all.

When Zhan Yan opened the wine jar, a rich fragrance spilled forth. She scooped out a spoonful and offered it to Zhongli Yu, who drank it from her hand.

“Well? Has the flavor matured?” Her eyes sparkled as she watched his expression, like a schoolgirl awaiting praise.

“Mmm, it’s excellent.”

“I knew it! Brewing grape wine is my specialty,” she replied, her eyes crinkling with delight.

Zhongli Yu gazed at her, entranced, and suddenly pulled her into his arms. His lips found hers, this time with a tenderness that surpassed their previous awkwardness. As she paused to catch her breath, he slipped his tongue into her mouth, passionately entwining with hers. Zhan Yan realized she didn’t dislike his kiss—in fact, she relished this newfound intimacy. She couldn’t help but wrap her arms around his neck, responding with equal ardor. Feeling her reciprocate, Zhongli Yu’s kiss deepened, as if his whole body were aflame.

“This flavor is even better,” he said in a hoarse voice, touching a finger to her lips as he finally let her go, both of them breathless.

Zhan Yan gazed at him, dazed, still lost in the aftermath of his kiss.

Unable to resist, Zhongli Yu bent down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips once more.

“Yan’er, I wish I could marry you this very day,” he murmured, his voice raw with longing. He held her tightly, trying to quell the turmoil in his heart.

Looking at the man before her, so sincere and affectionate, Zhan Yan thought to herself that she had truly been conquered by him. So be it—since she liked him, she would accept it. As a woman of the modern age, she told herself, she shouldn’t be too coy.