Wei Qingshan approached the bed and saw his little husband shyly hiding under the blanket. His disheveled hair spilled over the pillow, leaving only his round, glistening eyes visible as they blinked nervously, avoiding his gaze.

Something stirred within Wei Qingshan, and his eyes darkened. Forgetting to extinguish the lamp, he walked toward the bed. With each step he took, Lin Yu blinked more rapidly, his lashes trembling as a mist of tears welled in his eyes, threatening to fall. Even the corners of his eyes were tinged with a delicate blush.

Lin Yu shuddered and whispered, “P-please, blow out the lamp.”

Only then did Wei Qingshan remember the lamp. He cleared his throat to cover his awkwardness, blew out the lamp, and moved toward the bed.

Lin Yu felt like crying out of fear. Aunt Li had told him to lie still, hug his husband, and let him handle the rest—it would hurt, but only for a moment.

Listening to the rustling sound of clothes being removed, Lin Yu tensed up. When the warmth of a body pressed close to him and a calloused hand gently caressed his cheek, he flinched at the unfamiliar sensation. Wei Qingshan’s roughness belied a certain tenderness, and his mind spun.

But when Wei Qingshan leaned down, Lin Yu instinctively wrapped his slender arms around his neck. The gesture, soft and cautious, broke the restraint Wei Qingshan had been holding onto. His eyes turned red as he firmly pinned Lin Yu’s delicate wrists above his head. Lin Yu bit his lip, suppressing any sound.

A small whimper escaped Lin Yu’s lips, making Wei Qingshan freeze in place. Reaching out to touch his face, he realized it was wet with tears.

Startled and concerned, Wei Qingshan immediately withdrew and sat up. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry.”

He quickly donned his underclothes and lit the oil lamp. When the soft glow filled the room, Lin Yu was curled up under the blanket, shaking slightly.

“Let me check. Where did I hurt you?” Wei Qingshan asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

When he gently lifted the blanket and saw no resistance, he exhaled in relief. But what he saw next made his pupils contract—a series of long scars and bruises marred Lin Yu’s slender back. Though the wounds weren’t fresh, the discoloration and swelling revealed how severe the beatings had been.

“Who did this?” Wei Qingshan demanded, his voice trembling with anger.

These injuries were clearly from days ago, yet they still looked painful. Wei Qingshan carefully helped Lin Yu into his inner clothes.

Lin Yu bit his lip, tears streaming down his face. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

He was terrified that Wei Qingshan would reject him for being flawed. The pain from earlier had reopened a wound on his arm, and he couldn’t hold back his tears.

“Who hit you?” Wei Qingshan’s tone was laced with an ominous edge.

“Cai… Cai Chunhua.”

Wei Qingshan let out a silent sigh. Lin Yu’s life in the Zhao household was far harsher than he’d imagined. The wounds on Lin Yu’s arm were particularly severe, some of them still unhealed. When Wei Qingshan had grabbed Lin Yu’s wrist earlier, he’d felt them but had assumed it was just the rough texture of the young ger’s skin.

Now he realized he’d carelessly grabbed at Lin Yu’s wounds. Regret washed over him—how could he have been so thoughtless?

Wei Qingshan draped a padded coat over Lin Yu and rummaged through the room for some medicine. As a hunter, he had no shortage of salves and ointments. Quietly, he sat down at the bedside and began treating the wounds on Lin Yu’s arm. “It might hurt a bit, but it’ll be over soon,” he said softly.

Lin Yu nodded. “I’m sorry.”

Wei Qingshan was focused on applying the medicine and didn’t catch the deeper meaning behind Lin Yu’s apology. As the pain flared, Lin Yu instinctively flinched back—a reflex honed over years of enduring beatings. Fortunately, Wei Qingshan was holding his wrist, preventing him from accidentally knocking over the medicine bottle.

Once the salve was applied, Wei Qingshan wrapped Lin Yu’s arm with a clean white cloth. “Keep it dry for the next three days,” he instructed.

Then he reached for some medicinal wine. “Lie down on your stomach. I need to treat your back as well.”

Lin Yu obediently lay face down on the bed, his white inner robe pushed up to his waist. Any lingering intimate thoughts Wei Qingshan had evaporated as his gaze landed on Lin Yu’s thin, frail back. The prominent outlines of his shoulder blades were striking, but what truly caught Wei Qingshan’s attention were the bruises and welts crisscrossing the pale skin. His heart ached at the sight.

Pouring the wine into his hands to warm it, Wei Qingshan began massaging the bruises to disperse the clotted blood. Lin Yu bit his lip to suppress any sound, tears slipping down his face from the earlier pain. Compared to the beatings he’d endured from his aunt, though, this was mild.

After finishing, Wei Qingshan helped Lin Yu adjust his robe. “Get some rest,” he said.

He extinguished the lamp and climbed into bed. Lin Yu lay stiffly on his side, not daring to move. His thoughts were in turmoil—on one hand, he felt touched by Wei Qingshan’s gentle care, but on the other, he was worried that he’d disappointed his husband by ruining the mood earlier. He berated himself for being so clumsy and unworthy.

Lost in these thoughts, Lin Yu eventually drifted off. The bed was warm and comforting, and he quickly succumbed to exhaustion.

Once Lin Yu’s breathing steadied, signaling he was asleep, Wei Qingshan opened his eyes.

His own childhood had been tough—he was the eldest in a family that favored the youngest. From a young age, he’d been helping with farmwork, and while life had been hard, he’d never gone hungry. Later, apprenticing with an old hunter in the mountains, he became the breadwinner of his family.

Now, lying beside Lin Yu, he found sleep elusive. His mind turned to thoughts of hunting more game in the future to earn extra money and properly nourish his little husband.

In the middle of the night, Lin Yu unconsciously inched closer, seeking warmth until he was pressed against Wei Qingshan’s side. Wei Qingshan frowned—why was Lin Yu’s body so cold? It was early spring, and while the nights were still chilly, he’d already switched to thinner bedding due to his own high body temperature. He cursed himself for being inconsiderate—Lin Yu’s frail body couldn’t handle the cold.

Carefully, Wei Qingshan reached for an extra padded coat and draped it over Lin Yu, who responded with a soft hum and nestled closer. Wei Qingshan froze, not daring to move further, his heart aching for this vulnerable little ger.

Lin Yu, who had been lying stiffly while awake, curled up instinctively once he fell asleep, pressing against Wei Qingshan like a small animal seeking warmth. His warm breath tickled Wei Qingshan’s arm, rhythmic and gentle like a spring breeze.

When Wei Qingshan shifted his leg slightly, his foot accidentally brushed against Lin Yu’s icy toes. The chill made him hiss softly. How were his feet still this cold, even in spring?

Wei Qingshan took Lin Yu’s cold feet between his calves to warm them up. Over time, Lin Yu’s tightly curled body gradually relaxed, though he continued to cling to Wei Qingshan like a winter cub seeking comfort.

Wei Qingshan barely slept that night. The scent of soapwort clung faintly to Lin Yu’s hair, and it was oddly soothing. He couldn’t resist leaning closer to inhale the sweet, clean fragrance. Feeling foolish, he stopped himself but then gave in again, turning fully toward Lin Yu.

The movement caused Lin Yu to stir and shift, eventually settling into Wei Qingshan’s arms, his forehead pressed against Wei Qingshan’s chest. His soft, warm breath puffed against Wei Qingshan’s skin, reigniting an inner warmth that made Wei Qingshan stiffen in place, unsure of what to do.

Lin Yu was so soft, so fragrant. Even his hair carried the faint, pleasant scent of soapwort. Wei Qingshan lay there for what felt like an eternity, finally dozing off only briefly before dawn.

When morning came, Wei Qingshan woke early, not wanting Lin Yu to see him in such a disheveled state. He busied himself outside while Lin Yu woke up to the sunlight streaming in through the window. The young ger had never felt this comfortable before—he felt like he was floating on clouds.

Reluctant to leave the warmth, Lin Yu burrowed deeper into the blanket, but the barking of dogs outside startled him awake. Realizing it was already daylight, he panicked. He’d overslept! And he hadn’t made breakfast yet. Would Wei Qingshan think he was lazy?

Lin Yu scrambled to put on his red wedding robe, tears welling up from his anxiety.

Hearing the commotion, Wei Qingshan walked in. Dressed in simple, practical clothes for work, he found Lin Yu fumbling with his clothing. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“You don’t have to get up so early. There’s not much work around the house,” Wei Qingshan said.

Lin Yu, afraid that Wei Qingshan might be disappointed with him, worried about how he hadn’t done well the previous night and was now being lazy by staying in bed. “S-sorry, I’ll get up and make breakfast right away,” he stammered.

Wei Qingshan opened the cabinet at the foot of the bed and rummaged through it to find a thinner winter coat. “Here, wear this for now. I’ll go to the town later and get some fabric to make you a couple of new outfits.”

Lin Yu nodded awkwardly, accepting the coat. When he married into the Zhao family, his dowry had only included two thin blankets, and there were no new clothes. As a result, besides the half-new wedding robes, Lin Yu didn’t have any other clothing.

For now, he could only make do with wearing Wei Qingshan’s clothes. Although Wei Qingshan had found the thinnest coat, it was still a bit too thick for Lin Yu. He would only wear it during the coldest times. Wei Qingshan had a fiery temper and, as soon as spring arrived, he switched to lighter clothes and didn’t need anything like a thin padded jacket.

Lin Yu put on Wei Qingshan’s clothes. Since Wei Qingshan was taller, Lin Yu looked like a child wearing oversized adult clothes—loose and baggy. Wei Qingshan couldn’t help but want to laugh, but held it back, not wanting to embarrass his shy little husband. He cleared his throat, trying to keep his smile in check.

“I’ll find you a belt to tie it together.”

Seeing how red Lin Yu’s face was, almost hiding inside the coat, Wei Qingshan quickly found a belt and handed it to him before stepping outside.

As soon as he stepped out, he gave a light pat to the black dog with white paws. “Who told you to bark?”

The black dog bared its teeth and barked again. Wei Qingshan wasn’t going to scold it anymore. The humans were awake, so if the dog wanted to bark, so be it.

Just then, the other dog, pure white and with a sleek coat, came running over and rubbed its head against Wei Qingshan’s leg. He gently pushed the white dog away, muttering, “You’re just like a clingy pup.” Being a hunting dog, he’d never seen one so needy.