Chapter 4: The First Time

Pinned beneath her on the hard plank bed, Chen Yanfan was thinking that it might collapse. He’d noticed a loose leg last month and had been meaning to ask Old Song to have it repaired, but Old Song had said it was still usable and he should make do.

If it really did collapse, Old Song would surely scold him. He might even deduct the cost of the bed from his wages.

Yu Chenxue had no idea what he was calculating. Her whole body felt hot and her heart was racing, but she refused to show the slightest hesitation.

She lowered her head and pressed her lips to his collarbone. Chen Yanfan placed a hand on her waist, his rough fingertips pressing gently through the thin fabric.

He was calculating again. He had to be careful not to leave a mark. Last time, when he’d helped Old Zhang in the kitchen move a sack of rice, he’d accidentally snapped the hemp rope. Old Zhang had chased after him, scolding him for three days.

The young mistress had delicate skin. If he accidentally hurt her and she complained to her father, he’d lose his livelihood. And he had to attend to her comfort, too. This was more tiring than chopping wood; at least he didn’t have to worry whether the logs were comfortable. It was hard labor, and he needed extra pay.

The bed creaked under the strain, every sound protesting the sudden weight.

He spoke up, his voice muffled. “Tell me if it hurts.”

Yu Chenxue was taken aback. Before she could be touched by his concern, he added, “Triple the price.”

“Stop talking!” Furious, she clapped a hand over his mouth.

Outside the window, the sunlight grew stronger, slipping through gaps in the old paper covering the panes. An unfamiliar bird called twice in the courtyard, then something startled it into flight.

The bed creaked for a long time, mingled with the faint sounds Yu Chenxue tried to stifle against her lip and Chen Yanfan’s occasional muttering.

“I think that bed leg really is giving out.”

“Can you still bear it, Young Mistress?”

“…”

“Does it hurt?”

“…”

When everything finally grew quiet, Chen Yanfan’s first thought wasn’t to savor the moment. He sat up and checked the bed leg.

Sure enough, it had come loose. Holding the edge of the bed, he peered underneath. The leg, already wobbly, now tilted at a noticeable angle. A couple more jolts might snap it clean off.

He sighed and pulled on his torn robe. The split fabric barely hung from his shoulders, exposing much of his chest. It looked pitiful no matter how one viewed it. He glanced down at the long tear and muttered, “More money to mend it.”

Yu Chenxue lay on the bed, her hair undone, the flush still lingering in her cheeks and her gaze a little unfocused. Hearing him, she turned to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, studying the tear with a look of distress. The sight was both absurd and all too real.

She gathered herself and propped herself against the head of the bed. “I’ll have someone bring you ten spirit stones later. Not copper coins.”

Chen Yanfan didn’t answer. After a long moment, he looked up at her, utterly serious. “Young Mistress, that’s payment for my services.”

Her fingers stiffened.

He went on calmly. “If those ten spirit stones are the fee for sleeping with me, it’s too little. And you tore my clothes. The bed leg is nearly broken too, and Old Song will surely hold me responsible. That has to be included.”

Never in her life had Yu Chenxue wanted to hit someone so badly.

With a few words, the man had swept away every trace of intimacy from the bed. Any tenderness had been an illusion; all he’d had in his head from start to finish was a ledger.

“Then how much do you want?” she asked through gritted teeth.

Chen Yanfan considered it and began counting on his fingers. “Chopping wood pays thirty copper coins a day, so double is sixty. This job is much more tiring, so triple—”

“How much do you want?”

“Twenty spirit stones.” He held up two fingers. “That includes the clothes and the bed leg.”

Yu Chenxue took a deep breath. “I’ll send someone to give them to you later. Now get out!”

“A fair price is a fair price. I won’t take advantage of anyone. But don’t forget, Young Mistress…”

Chen Yanfan stood and pulled his torn robe together. At the door, he stopped.

He looked back at the bundle of bedding on the bed, thought for a moment, and added with an impish grin, “If you have this kind of work again, let me know beforehand. I can ask Old Song for time off, so he won’t dock my wages.”

A pillow flew at him and struck the doorframe.

Chen Yanfan sidestepped it, opened the door, and walked out.

Yu Chenxue huddled under the covers, her ears burning and her heart still racing. She closed her eyes, and the dream rose before her again.

Suddenly, she thought she might really be doomed—but not because he’d kill her. He’d make her die of sheer exasperation.

Out in the corridor, Chen Yanfan walked back with his split robe wrapped around him, head lowered as he calculated how many spirit stones he’d clear after deducting the cost of his clothes and the bed leg. Halfway through, he stopped and frowned.

Something wasn’t right.

It seemed he’d left something out of today’s reckoning.

He thought for a while, his frown deepening.

Why had the young mistress done that today? She liked making trouble for him, but she’d never done anything like this.

Had she learned something? Had someone put her up to it? Or had a servant given her the wrong medicine?

Standing beneath the corridor eaves, Chen Yanfan thought it over again. “First I’ll get my clothes mended, then fix the bed leg. I still haven’t finished chopping wood today. Fooling around with the young mistress took two hours. Looks like I’ll be up late chopping tonight.”