Drip, drip...
Once July arrived, temperatures on the snowfield began to fall rapidly. Usually, rain fell for days on end, and each day grew colder than the last.
In a guest room at the inn, Ye Jingtang slept flat on his back against the pillow. Hua Qingzhi lay on the inside, her snowy, creamy curves covered by the quilt. Nestled beside Ye Jingtang, she slept in an equally proper position. Together, they looked just like a cultured, courteous husband and his virtuous, reserved wife.
They slept so formally not because Ye Jingtang did not want to hold her, but because Qingzhi was too considerate.
When they first began, Qingzhi had been extremely cooperative, assuming whatever position he wanted. Even when he held her up by the bends of her knees to have his way with her, she offered no resistance, merely hugging his neck and whimpering softly.
Since Qingzhi was only a delicate young lady from a scholarly family, Ye Jingtang did not dare ravage her with all his strength. He simply cherished her with waterlike tenderness, and once she was satisfied, he too stopped after a light taste, ready to hold her and rest.
But after her delirium passed, Qingzhi gradually came to her senses. She remembered that she was the eldest daughter of a great clan and had to observe the proper ways of a wife, taking care with her words and conduct.
Clinging sweetly to her husband as she slept clearly did not suit the image of a "dignified, reserved" wife. It was more like some coquettish little vixen of a concubine.
So Qingzhi began being virtuous. Whenever Ye Jingtang held her, she tirelessly resumed serving her still-unsatisfied husband; whenever he stopped, she obediently lay beside him without disturbing his rest. This cycle repeated over and over.