Transmigrated into the Villain's Cannon Fodder Ex-Wife (Transmigrated into a Book) - Chapter 19

Lin Chu was so embarrassed and angry she could almost die from it. At this point, saying anything would only make things more awkward, so she decided to stay silent.

She glanced at the bed. Although there was a semi-transparent silk bed curtain between them, she could still see that Yan Mingge was half-reclining on the edge of the bed, not looking her way.

“I’m going to get dressed now, so don’t turn around,” Lin Chu said, trying to prevent him from accidentally looking her way.

Just from the sound, Yan Mingge could tell that his little wife was annoyed. Though earlier he was stunned and apologetic, sensing her resistance and anger, he couldn’t help but feel an inexplicable sense of frustration. He blurted out, 

“You’re my wife, is there anything I can’t see?”

Lin Chu, who had been about to get dressed, froze at his words. He did have a point, and she couldn’t really argue!

Realizing he had said something inappropriate, Yan Mingge quickly corrected himself. 

“You go ahead and change. I won’t look.” 

The inexplicable frustration in his heart was directed at either Lin Chu or himself, he couldn’t tell.

Lin Chu hesitated for a moment, and by then, the water had completely cooled. She glanced over at the bed again, confirming that Yan Mingge wasn’t peeking before nervously climbing out of the bathtub.

Her skin, once warm from the water, now shivered in the cold air, instantly covered with goosebumps. Lin Chu felt her hands and legs trembling as she got dressed, unsure if it was from the cold or the embarrassment.

Before long, she had finished dressing and muttered, 

“I’m done.” 

Only then did Yan Mingge turn his head. The slight annoyance and awkwardness in his eyes had turned into admiration.

The dress was a light lotus color, and Lin Chu’s fair skin made it look even more delicate. Since it was winter, the dress had cotton lining to keep her warm, and the sleeves were tight at the cuffs to retain heat. This accentuated her figure, especially her slim waist, which was highlighted by the high waistline of the dress. The matching short jacket emphasized her curves and gave the illusion of long legs, making her appear as if her chest and below were all legs. She couldn’t help but marvel at how skilled ancient people were when it came to clothing aesthetics.

The collar of the satin jacket had a ring of white fur, which was comfortable against her neck and made her small face look even more radiant.

“The dress is nice,” Yan Mingge said, his voice hoarse.

Lin Chu was surprised that the villain would suddenly praise her—or rather, the dress. She thought he might be trying to ease the tension, so she replied, 

“I think it’s nice too.”

Seeing that her hair was still wet and dripping, Lin Chu said, “I’ll go downstairs and have the waiter take the bathtub out and bring a towel to dry my hair.”

Yan Mingge rarely responded to Lin Chu, but this time he gave a rare reply with a simple, emotionless “Mm.”

Lin Chu found him acting strangely tonight but didn’t think too much of it and went out. The moment she opened the door, the cold wind blew into her collar, causing her to shiver. She quickly closed the door behind her.

What she didn’t know was that from the moment she turned to leave, Yan Mingge’s gaze had been locked on her, his cold eyes never leaving her.

Yan Mingge stood still, leaning against the bed frame. His mind alternated between the images of Lin Chu climbing out of the bathtub and her standing in the light lotus-colored dress. He rubbed his forehead in frustration, suddenly feeling thirsty. He realized he had been thirsty for quite a while.

There was a low table by the bed with some tea on it. Yan Mingge poured himself three cups of cold tea and drank them down. He lay back against the bed frame for a moment, staring at the area covered by the quilt, his expression unreadable—whether it was dark or irritated, it was hard to tell.

Meanwhile, Lin Chu had the waiter move the bathtub downstairs and found a clean towel to dry her hair. The waiter kindly suggested she go to the kitchen to dry her hair by the stove, but Lin Chu refused, worried that the ash and smoke would make her freshly washed hair dirty. She instead stayed in the lobby, using the warmth from the charcoal basin to dry her hair.

She was drowsy when suddenly she heard a sound like “zheng—” from a guqin. She wondered if there was a musician in the inn, but then she heard the innkeeper scolding the waiter, 

“Why didn’t you bring a charcoal basin to the Madam in the courtyard while she’s playing the guqin?”

The waiter replied with a look of grievance, 

“Innkeeper, it’s not that I was slacking, but the Madam refused it. I placed it next to her, and she got angry.”

Hearing it was the “Madam,” Lin Chu guessed it must be Jiang Wanxue.

Later that evening, when Lin Chu passed by the inn’s backyard, she saw a plum tree in full bloom. Why was Jiang Wanxue playing the guqin in the middle of the night? Was she disturbing people’s dreams? Lin Chu couldn’t understand this woman’s reasoning.

The first sound she had heard was clearly a tuning note. Now, the guqin music played smoothly, sorrowful and wistful, like a woman lamenting. It had to be said that Jiang Wanxue’s guqin skills were indeed exquisite.

At the front desk, an old accountant with a bushy mustache tapped out a rhythm, his head swaying in enjoyment.

The waiter, who seemed familiar with the old accountant, smiled and said, 

“Old Guo, what song is the Madam playing?”

The old accountant, with his wrinkled face, looked quite pleased with himself as he said, 

“It’s ‘Butterfly Loves Flowers,’ the lyrics go, ‘As the belt tightens, I regret nothing; for love, I will waste away,’ this song is amazing! Amazing! Amazing!” He repeated the word “amazing” three times, clearly expressing his admiration for the song.

Lin Chu wasn’t very familiar with ancient songs, but she knew that “Butterfly Loves Flowers” was a song for confessing love.

She unconsciously twitched her eye… Could this piece that Jiang Wanxue was playing be for Yan Mingge? Driven by curiosity, Lin Chu thought of going to the backyard to take a look.

As she turned a corner, she suddenly heard someone clapping. Lin Chu quickly hid behind a pillar and looked up, seeing the Sixth Prince slowly walking out from the opposite corridor, clapping his hands. His expression was lazy, with a demeanor that suggested he was nothing but a frivolous young master.

“Mrs. Han’s piece truly deserves to be called a three-day lingering melody!” His voice was also languid. The night breeze rose, scattering plum blossoms everywhere.

Jiang Wanxue stood up, holding the guqin, and bent her knee to give a salute to Shen Chen. Her voice, like a yellow oriole, carried a hint of a heart-wrenching hoarseness. 

“Sir, you flatter me. I mourn the death of my late husband and cannot sleep at night. I only wished to play a tune to express my longing. If I disturbed you, it is my fault.”

She had not tied up her hair after bathing, and her long hair, reaching her knees, was flowing freely, swaying in the wind. Several plum blossoms fell into her dark hair. Her plain white gown accentuated her delicate figure, evoking a sense of sympathy. Her small face, pale under the moonlight, and her tear-filled eyes made her look pitiful, as though her sorrow could be felt by anyone.

Even Lin Chu, a woman herself, couldn’t help but swallow. However… in this cold weather, Jiang Wanxue was wearing so little and still playing the guqin… She must be able to endure the cold well! Was she not afraid of goosebumps?

Shen Chen, hearing her words, said, 

“Please do not speak like that. I, too, am deeply grieved by Lord Han’s passing.”

The single tear Jiang Wanxue had been holding back finally fell, tracing a delicate arc down her cheek before dropping from her chin.

Shen Chen quickly added, “Please accept my deepest condolences.”

Jiang Wanxue nodded faintly, but the tears only streamed down more freely, her sorrow uncontainable.

“The night is cold, and the wind bites harshly. You should return to your room and rest,” Shen Chen urged, his tone sincere. “If you were to fall ill, even in the underworld, Lord Han would surely find no peace.”

Adjusting the cloak draped over his shoulders, Shen Chen appeared contemplative. Jiang Wanxue, her tear-streaked face lowered, had a flicker of hope and accomplishment in her eyes. Was he about to offer her his cloak?

From behind a pillar, Lin Chu observed silently. Could it be that Jiang Wanxue truly has something going on with the Sixth Prince?

But in the next moment, Shen Chen simply tightened his cloak around himself and rubbed his arms briskly. “It really is cold. I’d better head back to rest,” he muttered.

With that, he kicked Eunuch Bai lightly. “Bring me the hand warmer!”

Eunuch Bai scrambled to present a delicate copper hand warmer. Shen Chen took it, cradled it between his hands, and yawned as he headed upstairs. As he passed the pillar, he cast a brief sidelong glance, his eyes gleaming with mockery toward Lin Chu’s hiding spot.

Jiang Wanxue, still clutching the guqin, stood beneath the plum tree. The frail, sorrowful expression she wore like a mask crumbled, revealing a cold and determined look.

As they returned to his room, Eunuch Bai couldn’t help but grumble. 

“Your Highness, you really shouldn’t have gone down.”

Shen Chen appeared unconcerned, his tone lazy. 

“To play Butterfly Loves Flowers in the dead of night takes nerve. If I didn’t give her the illusion of encouragement, how else will she gather the courage to approach Yan Heng in the future?”

Eunuch Bai hesitated, biting back the words, She might be setting her sights on you instead. The Sixth Prince was only seventeen, and some of his youthful indulgence showed. Still, Eunuch Bai, who had witnessed countless schemes among palace concubines, saw right through Jiang Wanxue’s ploy, even if it was clever.

Meanwhile, Lin Chu, feeling thoroughly entertained by the drama, slipped back into her room in high spirits. Jiang Wanxue’s guqin performance had been so loud it was impossible for Yan Mingge to have fallen asleep through it. Still, as the room remained quiet, Lin Chu decided not to disturb him.

She moved about, trying to find something to fashion into a makeshift bed but came up empty-handed. Her gaze shifted to the bed. We’ve already shared a bed before, she reasoned. Whatever happened tonight, he is my husband, and as long as we haven’t separated, this is his right. Why overthink it?

With a deep sigh, Lin Chu scolded herself silently, removed her shoes, and climbed into bed. She tucked herself at the foot of the mattress, hoping not to cause any trouble.

Barely a moment passed before Yan Mingge shifted toward her, his clear voice breaking the silence. 

“You didn’t blow out the candle.”

The soft, orange candlelight illuminated the room, casting gentle shadows across Yan Mingge’s sharp yet refined features.

Lin Chu let out an inward groan. She’d left the candle burning earlier, thinking it would be inconvenient to extinguish it once she was in bed. But now that he mentioned it, she couldn’t ignore it.

Just as she was about to get up, she noticed something strange about Yan Mingge’s gaze. She followed his line of sight and looked down. Her cheeks burned as she realized where his eyes had landed.

“Where are you looking at?!” she exploded, her voice sharp with embarrassment.