Chapter 538: Mischievous Li Shu

“I trust not the maiden of Mount Wu, nor the goddess of the Luo River divine.
What need have I for spirits rare? A beauty here outshines them all.
Her powdered glow resembles her face, yet her crimson lips surpass all hue.
Her hairpins trail along her coiled locks, her dainty stockings grace her slender waist.”

A soft, trembling murmur escaped parted lips, barely formed, yet brimming with unspoken longing. From within the bedchamber came the mingled sounds of a young man’s heavy, unrestrained breathing and a maiden’s faint, delicate gasps. The air itself seemed to grow warmer by the second, thick with a restless, rising heat.

The girl’s body was suddenly lifted into the air, weightless in his arms, as hurried footsteps echoed across the room—each step like a heartbeat quickening in anticipation. Then, with a faint creak, the bed received them both, the wooden frame groaning softly beneath their combined weight, as though bearing witness to something intimate and unspoken.

Half-dazed, Zhu Ping’an felt as though a strange melody was echoing faintly by his ear—“Come, delight yourself, there is still so much time…”

His consciousness blurred under the surging heat within his body, as if he were being slowly melted from the inside out. His throat burned dry, his tongue parched, and for reasons he could not fully grasp, an overwhelming thirst gripped him—a hunger that seemed to rise from his very lungs, seep through his veins, and sink deep into his bones.

Yet the soft, jade-like figure beneath him was cool and soothing, like a gentle spring in summer. Driven by instinct alone, Zhu Ping’an found himself seeking relief from Li Shu, as though she were the only source that could quench the fire consuming him.

Soft as water, delicate as bone, her curves rise like jade mountains; within the mandarin-duck quilt, spring winds are gently drawn close.

Warmer than jade, smoother than balm—once intoxicated by her touch, one’s fervor only grows bolder.

The temperature in the room climbed ever higher. Outside, Hua’er, keeping night watch, caught faint traces of movement and sound from within. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson at once. Covering her ears in flustered embarrassment, she hurriedly burrowed into her blankets, squeezing her legs together, too shy to listen further…

Tension like drawn blades, armies poised at the city gates

Yet just as everything seemed on the verge of crossing an unseen boundary, the girl let out a soft, shy whisper—and in an instant, everything came to an abrupt halt.

“Dear husband… my monthly has come…”

Li Shu pressed her small hands against Zhu Ping’an’s chest, turning her face slightly away to avoid his gaze. Her head lowered, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush… and yet, from an angle he could not see, a fleeting glimmer of cunning flashed through her eyes.

Hearing this, Zhu Ping’an froze as though a basin of ice water had been dumped over him without warning. The contrast between heat and cold felt so sharp that he could almost hear a faint hiss, as if burning flesh had met ice. His racing thoughts began to settle, clarity slowly returning.

Her period had come?

A sudden realization flashed through Zhu Ping’an’s mind: Li Shu was on her period.

The signs had been there all along if he had paid attention—for example, she had washed her hands with warm water before dinner and drunk warm sugar water during the meal.

But… fortunately, things had turned out this way.

Otherwise, he might have committed a grave mistake. Li Shu was still underage.

At this thought, Zhu Ping’an let out a long breath of relief and lay down beside her, his body finally relaxing as he exhaled deeply.

“My monthly came… there’s nothing I could do,” Li Shu murmured softly.

“You’ve already taken all the advantage… what more do you want…”

“Anyway… Zhu Ping’an… you must take responsibility for me…”

With her back turned to him, she pressed lightly against his body, her voice soft, trembling, and full of shy sweetness.

Under the flickering candlelight, Li Shu lay sideways like a flower on the verge of blooming—fragile, alluring, and irresistibly captivating. Every curve of her form seemed to invite affection, stirring both tenderness and longing.

“Mm.” Zhu Ping’an nodded firmly.

They were already married—and aside from the final step, everything else that should or should not have happened… had already happened. By all reason and propriety, as a man, how could he not take responsibility?

Moreover, this was the Great Ming—a time when chastity was valued above life itself. Even holding hands could be taboo, let alone what had just transpired.

Hearing his earnest reply, Li Shu—still lying with her back to him—let her bright, watery eyes narrow ever so slightly, like a clever little fox. A faint, triumphant smile curved her cherry lips, adding a touch of enchanting charm to her already delicate features.

Gradually, the room fell silent. The atmosphere grew somewhat awkward.

To break the tension, Zhu Ping’an cleared his throat and spoke, “Well… the dishes tonight were really delicious.”

“Mm…” Li Shu responded softly, her voice gentle as orchid fragrance, tinged with lingering shyness.

Then, once again, silence settled over the room.

The stillness, the quiet girl lying beside him—it made Zhu Ping’an feel an inexplicable sense of guilt, as though he were some scoundrel who had taken everything and was now ready to leave without a second thought.

“Especially that chicken soup—it was exceptionally good,” he added, trying again.

But Li Shu shook her head lightly. Her small lips curved upward, and with a faint parting of her rosy mouth, she corrected him softly,

“It wasn’t chicken soup. That was softshell turtle soup.”

Softshell turtle soup? The kind that nourishes the body, strengthens vitality—an extremely potent tonic?!

Good heavens—he had drunk three whole bowls of it at dinner?! No wonder his body had been burning with heat. No wonder his nose had suddenly started bleeding earlier! This was clearly an overdose of nourishment!

After drinking that much turtle soup, nosebleeds—and even his “Kirin arm” acting up—were perfectly normal.

Sensing his reaction, Li Shu, still facing away from him, flushed faintly. A playful smile lingered at the corner of her lips, and within her dark, ink-like eyes flickered a trace of cunning delight.

Silly man… that clay pot of soup tonight wasn’t made with just softshell turtle alone.

Of course, no matter what, Li Shu would never tell Zhu Ping’an the full truth.

Some things could be said.

And some things… were better left unsaid.