Don't mess with that Miao boy, he's sickly and perverted.

Noticing Song Yueyao's surprised expression, Chai Xiaomi secretly glanced at Wu Li, observing whether he cared.

After all, in the original story, Wu Li went to great lengths to put the love potion on her, and because of love turned to hatred, he tried every means to destroy Jiang Zhiyu.

Although none of this happened in the novels Chai Xiaomi had read, in You Tiao's description, the story would eventually evolve in that direction, so she had to stop it, she had to change it.

This moment should be the first real meeting between Wu Li and Song Yueyao.

To Chai Xiaomi's surprise, Wu Li's attention was not on Song Yueyao at all. He just frowned and remained silent, as if he was immersed in some kind of thoughts.

"It's late and the dew is heavy. Xiao Mi isn't someone who practices martial arts or cultivation techniques, and her body isn't as robust as ours. If she catches a cold, it will be bad for both her and the baby in her womb. If you're feeling unwell, you might as well put it aside for now."

When Jiang Zhiyu's gentle advice rang out again, Wu Li seemed to be brought back to her senses.

He looked up at the other person, his eyes suddenly darkening, and he abruptly asked a question:

Do you have a father?

"What do you mean by that, brother?" Jiang Zhiyu was taken aback by the question, and a hint of anger crept into his voice: "Of course I do."

This young man clearly knew that he was the young master of Lingyu Prefecture. Everyone in the world knew that although the lord of Lingyu Prefecture was ill, he was still alive and well. Yet he still asked such a hurtful and offensive question.

Upon hearing this, a shadowy emotion flickered across Wu Li's eyes.

"Didn't he teach you to mind your own business?" Wu Li's voice was low and slow, but every word was icy.

Having said that, he gave a casual chuckle:

"A ruler of a province who can't even raise his own son properly? Is he merely a father who gives birth but doesn't raise his children?"

"You..." Jiang Zhiyu was furious. His knuckles tightened slightly as he gripped the sword hilt. He was known for his gentle and humble nature, and everyone usually praised his good temper. But at this moment, his expression turned completely somber.

Although Jiang Zhiyu was the young master, he had been pampered since childhood, but he had also trained with his master for many years, cultivating a calm demeanor and being able to endure what ordinary people could not.

He might back down if others were unfriendly, but if his father was involved, he would not yield an inch.

His father treated him with utmost care and protection, and even amidst the turbulent political situation in Lingyu Prefecture, he did his utmost to safeguard the peace of the region.

He was the best father in the world.

As the night wind swept by, it felt as if an invisible blade was clashing between the two, and the atmosphere instantly became as tense as a drawn bow.

Chai Xiaomi quietly reached out and gently tugged at Wu Li's sleeve. Seeing that he didn't move, her fingers slid down the sleeve and quietly covered his hand.

His fingers were thin and long, with distinct joints, and the pads of his fingers had a thin layer of calluses from years of drawing bows and wielding arrows.

"Don't be angry, okay? I won't run away next time." She coaxed him softly, her fingertips patiently probing between his slightly curled fingers until their fingers were tightly intertwined, then she looked up and a faint smile appeared on her lips.

Wu Li lowered his eyes and saw a head gently tilting out from under his shoulder.

The moonlight fell into her eyes, rippling into two bright crescent moons, sparkling and shining.

Interlock your fingers and press your palms together.

A tingling, numb sensation, like countless tiny ants gently crawling under his skin, left him feeling disoriented.

No one had ever held his hand like that before.

No one had ever before so intimately and stubbornly embedded their fingers between his.

He instinctively wanted to pull back, but the coolness from the woman's soft skin made him pause slightly.

Her fingers were cold.

When she threw herself into his arms earlier, she was enveloped in a warm, cozy temperature, like a cotton quilt that had been thoroughly dried by the sun, soft and fragrant, silently enveloping him.

But at this moment, she was cold.

Colder than him.

Jiang Zhiyu's words "the night is deep and the dew is heavy" suddenly echoed in her ears. She was neither skilled in martial arts nor practiced magic. She had been wearing only a thin Miao dress and had been exposed to the night wind for so long that she had unknowingly become chilled all over.

Even in her soft, gentle voice coaxing him now, there was a barely perceptible hint of her teeth chattering slightly.

Wu Li frowned.

In the end, he didn't let go of her hand.

It's both weak and troublesome.

She couldn't carry anything on her shoulders or lift anything with her hands, especially these hands, which were slender and soft, clearly showing a delicate appearance that had never been exposed to the elements. Who knows, she might be some silly young lady who ran away from a wealthy family in the Central Plains and accidentally wandered into Chishan.

Forget it.

Who told him that his curse was still on her?

He'll have to bear this trouble himself.

Seeing this, Song Yueyao tugged at Jiang Zhiyu's sleeve and whispered, "Let's go."

Jiang Zhiyu, however, remained expressionless, the sparks in his eyes still burning. He gripped the hilt of his sword and stood rooted to the spot, like a nail driven into the ground, impossible to budge.

Without saying a word, Song Yueyao raised her hand and gave him a crisp tap on the forehead.

"I said—let's go. Did you hear me?"

"Yaoyao..." Jiang Zhiyu shrank his neck in pain, raised his hand to touch the small bump that was rapidly rising on his forehead, and said in a wronged tone, "Can you be gentler next time? You'll make me stupid."

"No!" Song Yueyao turned and left, her voice drifting on the wind, "I was born a tigress. If you're not happy, you don't need to come all this way to find a gentle and obedient little rabbit."

"No, no!" Jiang Zhiyu instantly forgot the pain and quickly chased after him. The pent-up frustration from before had long since vanished. "A tigress is good, a tigress is so majestic."

Since Song Yueyao was brought back to Liangya Prefecture and ordered to prepare for the marriage, the two have not seen each other for a whole month. At this moment, Jiang Zhiyu can no longer care about anyone else and only wants to stay close to her.

Now that the identity of the clan chief has been revealed and the real Qi Lao has long since passed away, all matters to come require careful consideration.

Seeing the two walk away, Wu Li stood up and reached out to help Chai Xiaomi up.

"Hey, wait a minute..." She suddenly gasped softly, and squatted back down halfway down.

"What's wrong?"

"My legs are numb." She grimaced, looking quite uncomfortable, and added weakly, "My head is spinning too... Wu Li, I think I not only have numb legs, but I also have a fever."

A slender hand then touched her forehead.

It's so cool.

Chai Xiaomi unconsciously rubbed her forehead against his cold palm.

His hands were cold, but his forehead was burning hot, like a small furnace. Wu Li's gaze darkened. "Can you still walk?"

Chai Xiaomi didn't speak, but raised her eyes and blinked twice, looking at him with wet eyes, and shook her head.

A few strands of hair were lifted by the night breeze, brushing against her slightly flushed cheeks. The foxtail grass in her hair swayed gently with her movements, dancing merrily.

She was cute, yet also somewhat pitiful.

Her eyes conveyed a clear message: she couldn't move an inch.

Wu Li sighed resignedly and bent down.

"I'll still have the strength to climb up, right?"

The boy's back was broader than she had imagined. Chai Xiaomi rested her chin softly on his shoulder, her eyelids gradually growing heavy.

Half-asleep, I suddenly heard him ask in a low voice:

"Why did you lie and say you were pregnant?"

"Oh," Chai Xiaomi replied lazily. She had anticipated that Wu Li would ask, and she had already prepared a story in her mind: "I thought that person seemed to have a crush on me, so I said that on purpose to discourage him."

She tilted her head, her breath brushing gently against his neck: "Do you know that he is Jiang Zhiyu, the young master of Lingyu Prefecture? If he really takes a liking to me, how dare I refuse? So... I'll just have to trouble you to pretend to be my 'husband' for once."

Wu Li paused slightly in his steps.

After a moment of silence, his emotionless voice drifted on the night breeze:

"Are you a pig?"

Chai Xiaomi: "?"

"I'm very light, okay? I'm not heavy at all!"