Chapter 36

What is this, a tacit understanding of hearts?

She felt dazed.

The moment his lips pressed against hers, Mu He felt as if a rapid drumbeat struck her heart, each beat more intense than the last. Thousands of peach trees ahead seemed to welcome them, but she had no time to admire them. She closed her eyes, eyelashes trembling lightly.

That kiss in the snow last night—could it be called her first kiss?

Mu He was confused and nervous; she hadn’t even tasted it properly before it ended. Now, he seemed intent on making up for her regret, kissing her with meticulous care.

From the corners of his lips to the center, back and forth, gently biting her lip, repeatedly savoring, until the softness was fully enveloped in that burning kiss, she felt completely undone.

Unable to bear it, almost out of breath, Mu He hurriedly pushed him away, hands bracing the edge of the table, back arched, breathing heavily. Her cheeks were flushed, her heart burning, her whole body dizzy.

Hos Heng’s breathing was slightly uneven too. He chuckled lowly, teasing: “Can’t catch your breath?”

Mu He leaned weakly against his chest, lifting her hand to lightly hit him, powerless: had he… forgotten?

She could hear his heartbeat, equally deafening.

Being treated with such gentleness by this cold-hearted man—what woman could resist the temptation?

It was utterly overwhelming.

Yet, last night she had so confidently told him to pursue her, and now, in less than a day, she had already compromised. Not good for her future household status.

Fresh air filled her lungs, and her heat dissipated slightly. Mu He regained some clarity and suddenly realized: “It seems… you’re still in the role of the pursuer?”

This treatment of kissing on a whim—obviously only a boyfriend could do that.

“Sorry, I forgot I’m already your ex-boyfriend.”

Hos Heng’s tone held not a trace of apology, with a look as if he only remembered because she reminded him. Then he said seriously: “Next time, I’ll consult you first.”

Mu He didn’t immediately grasp his meaning. She proudly “hmmed” twice, then raised her voice: “What, you want a next time?!”

His voice was calm, yet carried lingering affection: “Don’t you want it?”

Mu He blushed and couldn’t speak, only puffing her cheeks, feigning indignance with her eyes.

She recalled an old grievance: “On New Year’s Eve, did you secretly kiss me too?”

She thought it was a dream at the time, and it seemed like she had been the one initiating, but with her timid personality, she wouldn’t have done that, even drunk—unless he deliberately enticed her.

Regardless of the truth, it was safe to pass the blame.

The living room at Jin Yue Bay had surveillance; Hos Heng had the full video of that night on his phone but chose to conceal the truth, calmly admitting: “Yes.”

If it would make her happier.

This answer secretly delighted Mu He. Sure enough, he kissed her; so her first kiss was on New Year’s Eve?

“Then… did you drink too?”

Hos Heng nodded again.

Mu He lifted her head from his chest, her dark eyes sparkling like rippling clear water: “Do you remember, if I broke your drinking rule, you promised me a reward?”

“I remember.”

She thought he would ask next: “What reward do you want?”

Unexpectedly, Hos Heng chuckled lightly, his breath brushing her hairline, and said seriously: “Give me yourself. Do you want to?”

Mu He: “…” She had lost.

Her ears tingled. She had planned to ask him for something, but the situation wasn’t the same now.

To ask or not to ask—either way, it wasn’t right.

“Temporarily refusing.”

Mu He restrained her smile, afraid he would probe further. She looked out the window at the peach blossoms blooming quietly on the branches, exquisite. A single blossom bloomed in the carriage too, the stamen hiding sweet nectar.

The train arrived at its final stop, a place called Wulingyuan. Stepping off, spring enveloped them. Mu He stood amid the peach grove, fragrant breezes lifting petals into the air, like a fairyland. She stood under a tree, looking back with a smile: “Xi Heng, take a photo of me.”

The pink sea of flowers behind her became the backdrop, sunlight dancing lightly from the branches, as if white jade had soaked in pink. The wind rose, petals scattered, one falling from her brow, perfectly captured by Hos Heng’s camera.

Mu He ran over, leaned against his arm to see the photo: jet-black hair, snowy skin, rosy glow, radiant gaze. He had taken it perfectly—almost like a professional photographer.

Of course, the most important thing: she was beautiful.

She had worried that her lipstick would be smudged, affecting the photo, but her lips were naturally red, even more vivid.

“Again.”

Hos Heng held his phone, snapping continuously. She walked amidst sunlight, breeze, and peach trees, at times elegant, at times playful, at times delicate… her expressions endlessly charming.

After over a hundred photos, Mu He finally burned off the chicken soup’s calories. She squatted, gathered petals into a heart shape, took a photo with her phone, and logged into her Weibo secondary account.

“Stop! Robbing a lollipop: First day on a date with Mr. Xi [photo]”

This account was Mu He’s secret, with only twelve followers, mostly strangers or inactive accounts, so no comments or likes.

She put her phone back in her pocket, held out her hand to him, borrowing his strength to stand: “Let’s go.”

Following the stream, they arrived at a lake. The deep green water was tinged with light pink, sunlight shimmering like scattered silver. In the center floated a bamboo raft, where a man in ancient costume was casting a fishing net.

Several parallel houses, exuding an antique charm, with peach and mulberry trees around, bamboo groves hiding a few homes.

Clearly, this was a recreation of the “Peach Blossom Spring.”

Mu He found it amusing and walked around, checking each house. The actors were professional. She learned from an older weaver that there was a tavern in the village, with Peach Blossom Wine unmatched across Wuling.

Mu He smiled, promising to taste it.

She and Xi Heng returned to the lakeside; the fisherman was hauling his net ashore, buckets filled with wriggling fish, destined for the tavern.

They followed him to a wooden house, a sign reading “Wenjin Tavern,” corresponding to the poem’s “unnoticed by anyone.” Naturally, more customers meant better business.

They sat by the window, separated from other tables by a landscape screen, quiet and elegant. Once the dishes arrived, Mu He removed her disguise, eagerly pouring two cups of peach blossom wine: “Cheers.”

Having experienced champagne before, she sipped lightly this time. The wine was mild, low alcohol, so she drank it all comfortably.

For Hos Heng, this wine was like water; he drank it all in one go.

Mu He noticed his Adam’s apple moving, lips glossy, as if lost in thought. The wine didn’t intoxicate him; he was naturally enthralled.

Hos Heng leaned back, leisurely admiring her. After a while, he asked: “Mu Yangyang, why are you staring at me?”

Mu He heard his teasing tone, quickly lowered her eyes, and said confidently: “Because I’m drunk!”

She picked up her chopsticks, realizing she hadn’t picked any food, chewed a few bites, and swallowed.

What satisfied her most during the meal was the tender steamed sea bass. She had planned to eat a small portion, but ended up finishing nearly the whole fish.

She didn’t dare calculate the calories.

After leaving the tavern, Mu He decided to walk off the meal. After less than ten minutes, her path was blocked by a delicate little boy in ancient costume. He handed her a flyer, voice sweet: “Sister, the Peach Blossom Spring play is about to start!”

Mu He’s heart melted. She took his tiny face in her hands: “Okay, I’ll definitely come support it.”

Seeing her so easily charmed by this marketing ploy, Hos Heng smirked, then spent the afternoon watching the play with her.

By the time the play ended, dusk had fallen. Taking the train back, they arrived just in time for the island’s fireworks and water-screen movie. Mu He was overwhelmed, not knowing where to look. She complained: “The schedule is so unreasonable; I want to see everything.”

Too many people around, jostling. Hos Heng positioned her in front: “Fine, let them adjust.”

The wind was strong. Mu He wore a hat, unable to hear him clearly, and focused on the colorful water-screen movie, where the young hero Little Nezha descended from the sky on his wind-fire wheels, full of vigor…

The movie lasted only half an hour. Spectators dispersed, leaving only Mu He, Xi Heng, and a couple kissing passionately by the railing—the same young couple they’d met in the photo booth. She envied them, thinking she would have no such public intimacy with him.

Trending in a minute if photographed: she had already thought of the headline: #Mu He street kiss sparks romance rumor#

The fireworks hadn’t ended. Mu He chatted briefly with staff

Fireworks were a rare sight in the mountain city; during the New Year, people mostly set off firecrackers, crackling loudly in celebration.

It was her first time setting off fireworks. After lighting the fuse, Mu He immediately ducked behind Xi Heng, grabbing the hem of his coat and peeking out from his side. The fiery bursts of sparks blossomed wildly, illuminating a corner of the night sky.

Hos Heng glanced back. Amid the fireworks and the crowd, in the depths of his eyes, she was the only presence.

Mu He went to return the lighter, and when she came back, she had two sparklers in her hand too—she didn’t know from which child she had “procured” them. She spun around him a few times. The small fireworks burned out completely, and she casually tossed the charred black sticks into a trash bin, still feeling a thrill: “Xi Heng, wait for me a moment.”

After saying that, she dashed into the group of children, playing and chasing them around.

Hos Heng leaned against the railing, one hand in his pocket. His sharp profile was cloaked in the half-light, half-shadow interplay. His gaze fixed on that slender white figure. Seeing something, he smiled absentmindedly, seemingly indifferent to how many eyes were on him.

Mu He finally played to her heart’s content. This time, she came back with a hole burned into her down jacket from the fireworks. She even made a show of it for him, looking pitiful, like a child who had been bullied outside and returned home to complain to the parents.

Hos Heng could only stifle a laugh and comfort her. What else could he do? He couldn’t exactly punish the mischievous “child” who caused the trouble.

Seeing people by the lakeside releasing lotus lanterns, making wishes and praying, Mu He instantly forgot about the hole. She bought a lantern for twenty yuan, secretly wrote: “May Mu Yangyang and Xi Heng stay together until old age.”

Then, she folded her hands reverently, watching as the lotus lantern slowly floated away carrying her wish.

The steps were wet. When Mu He turned to climb up, she accidentally slipped, losing her balance. Fortunately, Xi Heng stood right behind her; she fell against him, hugging him tightly, exhaling from her scarf—startled but unharmed.

Her nose bumped his chest, aching terribly. She rubbed it and blurted out: “You’re too hard.”

Unintended for him, but Hos Heng paused slightly, looking at her with deep meaning.

Before he could say anything, Mu He, flushed red, covered his mouth. She threatened fiercely: “You’re not allowed to speak!”

“I didn’t mean that, you know?”

The man’s warm breath brushed her fingers. Covered by her hand, his voice sounded muffled yet each word was clear: “Which ‘that’ do you mean?”

“Who knows.”

A knowingly rhetorical question.

Mu He jumped up the steps and ran away.

Hos Heng shook his head with a smile and followed, finding her at a shooting game stall where one could win prizes.

Mu He was studying the rules. If a feathered arrow hit a target on the large disc, the corresponding prize could be won. The larger the area on the disc, the lower the prize value. The largest area was for nail clippers. The prize she wanted, a men’s ring, had a disc space only the size of a matchbox—clearly the most expensive item.

Feathered arrows cost two yuan each. Mu He bought five, intending to try. The shop owner was clever; the arrows were light, only the tips slightly weighted. With a long distance and the matchbox among dazzling colorful designs, she misjudged her strength. Her first arrow fell halfway.

The second arrow completely missed.

Mu He realized wind might affect it. She recalculated and shot again—still missed.

The chubby owner, neck hunched, watched her, seeing her intent on winning the ring. But it wasn’t easy. Not wanting her to leave empty-handed during the New Year, he cheerfully suggested: “Miss, want to try hairpins or keychains? The small items are also well-made.”

Mu He smiled and refused.

Soon, she had only one feathered arrow left.

Hos Heng approached: “You really want it that badly?”

Mu He nodded: “Yes!”

Hos Heng took the arrow, small and delicate, holding it between his long fingers—strikingly elegant.

He had undergone rigorous shooting training; even handling real firearms, let alone this tiny thing.

Mu He saw his stance was casual, seemingly careless, as if tossing it without hope. Yet, with a “whoosh” through the air, the arrowhead landed squarely on the matchbox.

!

How did he do that?!

!

The owner gawked, hurrying over to check with his two-hundred-pound bulk—and it really was hit. The force was precise; it took effort to remove the arrow.

“Wow!”

Mu He exclaimed, her face lighting up with joy. She ran over and hugged his arm: “Xi Heng, you’re so accurate!”