Zhou Zhiruo was so embarrassed she hardly knew what to do. At a time like this, how could he still be thinking about that sort of thing? But when she looked up and saw Song Qingshu's solemn expression, she immediately realized she might have misunderstood. Though still puzzled, she obediently climbed onto the bed.
The knocking outside grew increasingly urgent, and it was clear they could burst in at any moment. Yet Song Qingshu still needed some time to take an impression of the Brocade-Robed Young Master's face. Seeing Zhou Zhiruo's bashful expression on the bed, an idea struck him, and he said quickly, "Hurry up and cry out!"
"Cry out what?" Zhou Zhiruo asked blankly.
"What else could you cry out?" Song Qingshu said, unable to laugh or cry. "Of course, cry out in bed!"
"Ah?" Zhou Zhiruo's face instantly turned as red as rouge. She glared fiercely at him, though it was impossible to tell whether she was embarrassed or angry.
"Stall them first. I need time," Song Qingshu hurriedly added when he saw her offended expression and realized she had misunderstood.
"But I..." Zhou Zhiruo had always been cool and reserved, and she was thin-skinned besides. With so many people outside, how could she be willing to make such shameful sounds?
Seeing there was no other way, Song Qingshu grabbed the Brocade-Robed Young Master's body and leaped onto the bed. He tossed him into the innermost corner, pulled over a quilt to cover him, then slipped under Zhou Zhiruo's blankets himself.
The moment he entered the covers, Song Qingshu caught a faint floral fragrance. Neither orchid nor musk, it drifted through the sheer gauze; subtle and secluded, it was just right. His heart stirred.
"You..." Although they were husband and wife, they had once possessed only the