Underneath A Thousand Skies ✔️

43 Favoring Qie Over Wife (43)

Once they entered the waterside pavilion beside the lotus pond, Zhao Cheng finally released Song Jia's hand. He paced back and forth, his robe sleeves brushing against the carved wooden railing, the reflection of the water rippling over his face. His hands were hidden beneath his sleeves, knuckles faintly trembling.

Song Jia watched him for a while before tentatively saying, "Can wang ye sit down in front of qie? Qie doesn't want to have a conversation like this."

Despite his turbulent emotions, Zhao Cheng obediently sat down. His anger had also been replaced by frustration and a sense of helplessness. He knew he had no right to be angry, and venting it out at her would only make him feel worse later on. She was right, they have to talk about this.

When Song Jia saw his shoulders finally relax, she reached for his hand and placed it on her lap. "Does wang ye have a problem he cannot speak of with qie?"

Zhao Cheng looked at her and knew that he would definitely not allow a divorce to happen between them. He slowly nodded.

"Is it a very big problem that worries wang ye?"

Zhao Cheng nodded again.

Song Jia smiled, "Wang ye should lie down."

He didn't move at first, but when she pushed lightly on his shoulders, he relented. His head rested on her lap, his long hair spilling like silk across her robe. Her fingers brushed through it slowly, easing the tension from his temples. The sound of rippling water, the soft hum of cicadas, and her gentle touch lulled him until his eyes half-closed.

"Qie has a story that qie wants to tell wang ye. Does wang ye want to listen?"

Feeling content with her soft hands caressing him and his nose filled with her sweet scent, Zhao Cheng murmured a gentle "Mn."

"Two monks were returning to the monastery in the evening. It had rained and there were puddles of water on the road sides."

Song Jia's voice was neither fast nor slow. It had a lively rhythm to it that made the listener follow her every word.

"At one place, a beautiful young woman was standing unable to walk across because of a puddle of water. The elder of the two monks went up to her, lifted her, and left her on the other side of the road. Then, he continued his way to the monastery.

In the evening the younger monk came to the elder monk and said, 'Sir, as monks, we cannot touch a woman.'

The elder monk answered, 'Yes, that's right.'

Then the younger monk asks, 'But then, how is that you lifted that woman on the roadside?'

The elder monk smiled at him and told him, 'I left her on the other side of the road, but you are still carrying her.'"

Song Jia's hand paused against his forehead. "Does wang ye understand qie's meaning?"

Zhao Cheng's eyes opened. They were bright when they looked up at her face. He lips quirked, "Never let a worry become a burden that you carry on your shoulders?"

Song Jia smiled back at him. "As expected, wang ye is very intelligent."

She leaned down and pressed her lips on his forehead, murmuring, "Wang ye's reward."

Zhao Cheng's pulse skipped. He caught her waist and, in one swift movement, sat up, pulling her onto his lap. His lips met hers in a tender kiss—careful, lingering, filled with the warmth he could never express with words. When he finally broke away, he rested his forehead against hers.

"Really can't let go..." he whispered under his breath.

Song Jia blinked. "What did wang ye say just now?"

Zhao Cheng's mouth curved. "Nothing. Can Jia'er play her guqin for me? Let's have lunch brought here."

Song Jia thought that his bad mood was over and there was nothing more that was bothering him. So she smiled like the sun, "Qie agrees to wang ye's suggestion."

In the end, the two of them spent the entire afternoon in the garden. After playing a song on the guqin, Song Jia introduced an interesting game she claimed came from a far western land. It involved stacking small pieces of wood one over another, and whoever made the tower fall lost. Zhao Cheng had great martial arts skills, so it was an easy thing for him not to imbalance the unstable tower of wooden blocks. Song Jia, on the other hand...

"No, we'll play again!"

"Wang ye, you cheated! Don't choose the middle one!"

"That's supposed to be the wooden block that I was going to push next! Wuwu..."

 But then she produced another strange contraption of thin wooden sticks.

"Whoever moves a stick and disturbs another loses! Wang ye, qie warns you—I'm very skilled at this!"

His Third Highness sighed inwardly. His wang fei's mind was as sharp as her hands were clumsy. Again, he let her win.

When she perked up to announce a third game, Zhao Cheng rose quickly. "Jia'er, the sun is setting. Let's return to the zhengfang."

Song Jia blinked. Sure enough, the golden sphere was sinking into the horizon. The whole afternoon was gone just like this? Disappointed but content, she accepted his hand.

As they walked back, fingers intertwined, the last light of dusk scattered across their path.

But Song Jia had forgotten one truth....that when night descends, the starving wolf always comes out to feed.