The day after the wedding, the servants of Earl Williams' residence were surprised not to see the usually early-rising Earl and the newly appointed Countess in the morning.
Even by noon, no one had seen them emerge from their room.
As the personal maid, Penny wasn't sure whether she should knock to remind her masters that they had already missed lunch.
She told Jane, "I think if I knock now, the Earl and Countess probably won't respond, and the Earl might even get very angry."
Jane nodded, "Not 'might'—he definitely will."
Their Earl might seem good-tempered, but when angered, he could be genuinely terrifying.
Penny was highly anxious, "But if we don't knock, they'll miss lunch."
Reminding their masters to eat was part of their duty as personal maids.
Penny wavered between fulfilling her duty and avoiding trouble.
Jane, however, was much calmer. She said, "Missing lunch isn't a big deal. The kitchen will keep food ready, ensuring that whenever the Earl and Countess wake up, there will be hot meals waiting."
That seemed reasonable. Penny added, "And hot water—that needs to be prepared too. I'm sure the Countess will need it when she wakes up."
Though she was a young girl, Penny was no stranger to the affairs between men and women. The openness of Europeans was no joke—sometimes you might accidentally stumble upon a couple sneaking off to the stables, and who knew what those men and women who disappeared during parties were up to in some hidden corner.
Jane agreed wholeheartedly, "Yes, the kitchen will prepare enough hot water for bathing—enough for two."
Though Wei Wei saw herself as merely clean, her maids considered her almost obsessive about hygiene. Under her influence, everyone in Sardinson Castle had started paying more attention to cleanliness, especially their Earl.
Thus, preparing hot water the day after the wedding night was necessary.
As they discussed all the preparations needed before their masters woke, they silently agreed not to knock and risk annoying them.
Meanwhile, one of the subjects of their conversation had just opened her eyes in the dimly lit room.
The heavy curtains blocked most of the light, leaving the room in near darkness. Wei Wei groggily opened her eyes, her mind still foggy, as if lingering in a dream. The warmth from the arm draped over her waist and the broad chest pressed against her bare back barely registered.
As her consciousness gradually returned, she didn't feel startled. Her remarkable memory kicked in, and before panic could set in, she remembered the situation.
She had gotten married—just yesterday. And the man sleeping beside her was now her husband.
This realization floated through her mind, and she relaxed.
Last night had been long and intense, and the aftermath of their activities left her sore and weak, with an uncomfortable burning sensation in a certain unmentionable place.
Recalling the events of the night, Wei Wei's face flushed. Having such a good memory was a double-edged sword—she couldn't pretend to remember even if she wanted to.
Exhausted both physically and mentally, she hesitated about whether to get up, but her empty stomach protested loudly.
If she didn't eat soon, it would start growling.
"Awake?" The man behind her had been awake for some time. Sensing his wife stirring, he propped himself up, leaned over, brushed the hair from her forehead, and kissed it. Then he moved lower and kissed her lips.
Wei Wei's face, already flushed from recalling last night's events, burned even hotter. Thankfully, the dim lighting ensured Felix couldn't see her embarrassment. Trying to appear composed, she shifted and asked, "What time is it?"
Her voice came out hoarse, and she realized how parched her throat was.
Wei Wei usually woke up thirsty, but today it was worse—a clear sign of overuse.
Whether he noticed her habit or her strained voice, Felix reached over to the nightstand, poured a glass of water, and handed it to her.
Wei Wei noticed for the first time that a water pitcher had been placed by the bedside in what was originally the master bedroom, now redecorated as their bridal suite. On the table nearby were plates of long-lasting pastries and fruits.
"It's probably noon," he answered while handing her the glass. "It's a bit cold. Do you want it?"
The pitcher was specially designed with an outer layer of insulation to keep the water warm, but it wasn't enough to keep it hot overnight. The water was now lukewarm—not icy, but not pleasant either.
Wei Wei knew this well. Her room always had such a pitcher at night, meant for her to drink if she woke up thirsty. She was well aware that the water would be unpleasantly cool by morning.
Normally, a maid would bring freshly boiled water in the morning, and she'd mix it with cold water to drink. But now, she didn't want to wait.
And in her current state, she didn't want anyone to see her—not even her personal maid, who usually helped with massages.
Lying back on the pillow, she nodded and reached for the glass.
But Felix didn't hand it over. Instead, he took a sip himself, then leaned down and kissed her, letting the water flow into her mouth.
The small amount of water passed between their lips, and her dry throat instinctively swallowed. Soon, the water was gone.
"This way, it's not too cold," the handsome man said with a smile—both smug and suggestive, his slightly hoarse voice hinting at something more.
Having experienced last night, Wei Wei—now fully aware of her husband's stamina—rolled her eyes in self-preservation. Setting aside her shyness and fatigue, she grabbed the glass, gulped the water down, then pushed him away, wrapped herself in the blanket, and got out of bed. She grabbed the clean clothes prepared in advance.
As she prepared to dress, she realized there was no screen or divider in the room, and the shameless man on the bed was watching. Turning away, she tossed his clothes at him without looking at his naked body. "Get up. We need to go downstairs for lunch."
Felix caught the clothes, then the blanket, and finally the bed curtains she dropped on him.
By the time he got out of bed, Wei Wei had already quickly put on her undergarments and was pulling on a cashmere sweater, leaving Felix with a view of her slender back, narrow waist, and long, straight legs as she dressed.
Of course, the most eye-catching details were the marks left behind—all his doing. Felix felt a surge of pride.
Unfortunately, the view didn't last long before she covered up.
Oh well. There would be more opportunities. Felix consoled himself and began dressing.
Men's clothes were simpler. By the time Wei Wei finished putting on her dress and went to open the curtains to comb her hair, Felix was already fully dressed.
Sunlight streamed in as the curtains were drawn—another clear, warm day. The light enveloped the young raven-haired bride, making her look like an angel blessed by God.
Sitting at the vanity, ignoring the slight discomfort, Wei Wei picked up a comb to style her hair.
Felix took the gilded comb from her hand. "Let me."
Wei Wei's hair was long, straight, and incredibly thick—almost twice the volume of an average person's. Since she usually wore it up, when let down, it cascaded in large, natural waves, more alluring than usual.
This was the first time Felix had seen her like this. Normally, Wei Wei wouldn't leave her room—or let him in—unless perfectly put together. Even she wanted to maintain a polished image for her fiancé.
"I love you like this," Felix said admiringly, gently combing her hair. "It feels like that dress of yours. I'm glad only I get to see you like this—and touch you."
Wei Wei: "...What about the maids?"
Felix: "...Maids don't count." Suddenly, he felt a twinge of jealousy toward them.
Felix, of course, didn't know how to style hair. He simply combed it through, leaving the rest to Wei Wei.
With practiced ease, Wei Wei braided and pinned up her hair while Felix watched, occasionally handing her hair accessories.
The bedroom door closed for a full day, finally opened. The maids waiting in the hallway—not daring to eavesdrop—immediately picked up their things and hurried over.
"Good afternoon, my Lord, my Lady."
Jane and Penny, leading the group, curtsied. Wei Wei, held by Felix, felt a bit self-conscious, but seeing their calm expressions, she gradually relaxed.
The maids filed in—some pouring water, others tidying the room. As the couple washed up, they were asked whether they'd prefer to eat in their room or the dining hall.
"We'll go to the dining hall."
By the time they woke, it was already late. Dolores had finished lunch and gone to her lessons. Only the newlyweds would be dining, with servants quietly observing, pleased at their increased closeness. The Earl spread jam on toast and fed it to his wife, who smiled and ate it—then returned the gesture by feeding him in turn.
How sweet they looked! Ah, the fragrance of love—what an enviable pair.
In reality, Wei Wei didn't find it sweet at all. Though she didn't dislike the intimacy, the servants' stares were unnerving, making her scalp prickle.
After enduring the awkward meal, Wei Wei—as predicted—requested a bath. Though Felix hinted at joining her, their tub wasn't large enough for two, so she firmly refused.
This time, she didn't let the maids assist. After bathing, she skipped her usual skincare routine. The marks from last night still lingered—her fair, delicate skin bruised easily, and the love bites were too obvious to show.
Emerging from the bath, she found Felix already washed and waiting. He took her hand.
"Darling, would you like to take a walk or have tea on the balcony?"
On their first day as newlyweds, Felix wanted nothing to do with work or social events. He planned to spend every moment with Wei Wei—though they'd have to attend several parties before returning to Sardinson.
Wei Wei chose the latter.
The servants had already prepared everything. Returning to their freshly tidied room, the open balcony let in a cool winter breeze, dispelling the warmth—and the lingering traces of their passion.
A small round table on the balcony held freshly brewed rose tea, accompanied by two plates of assorted cookies—perfect with tea. The cushioned chairs (a shared loveseat) were draped with blankets and piled with soft pillows for comfort.
Wei Wei read her ever-changing encyclopedia, while Felix held the copy of *The Art of War* she'd transcribed for him.
This translation was the most faithful to the original—concise yet profound. Though the original text was only 6,075 characters, the translated version expanded to tens of thousands, yet remained endlessly insightful. Felix had pored over it since receiving it, discovering its principles applied not just to warfare but also to business and diplomacy. Thanks to this book, he'd navigated high society with ease—something his younger self, even with wealth, couldn't have managed.
Nobles valued power and profit but were fiercely clannish. Without Wei Wei's book, Felix might have been dismissed as a "brainless brute" or looked down upon as a border lord. Instead, he was now seen as a promising young talent—cultured, capable, and diplomatic.
Thus, *The Art of War* was Felix's treasure—untouchable by others, meticulously maintained, and nearly as pristine as when Wei Wei gifted it.
Today, however, Felix couldn't focus. His attention kept drifting to Wei Wei—holding her hand, kissing her hair—until she finally gave up.
"How about I read to you?" she suggested.
She needed to distract him before they ended up back in bed.
"Sure, go ahead."
Felix wasn't particularly interested. He couldn't read the Chinese characters in Wei Wei's books, and he knew she'd been studying herbs and medicine lately. But he loved listening to her voice.
Knowing medicine bored him, Wei Wei didn't force it. She briefly left, pretending to swap books, then returned.
["Studying Chinese history, I discovered many gaps. The successes and failures recorded in the *Twenty-Four Histories*, along with historians' judgments, often contradicted each other—and even the sages' teachings failed to align. Puzzled, I sought the secret behind ancient triumphs until it struck me while reflecting on figures from the Three Kingdoms era: the key to success is nothing more than thick-faced, black-heartedness."]
Wei Wei read *The Thick Black Theory*—not the original classical version but a modern adaptation, omitting anachronistic details.
At first, Felix listened absently, but soon, her words captivated him. He held her close, a blanket over their laps, the afternoon sun warming them. Though the thawing garden below was lovely, his focus remained on her voice. He sensed profound wisdom in her words, though much eluded him, prompting frequent questions.
*The Thick Black Theory* referenced much of Chinese history. Even with her encyclopedia, Wei Wei struggled to explain, but she patiently repeated until he understood.
By afternoon's end, they hadn't finished the first chapter, spending most of the time on historical tangents.
Yet both enjoyed it. Felix even decided to transcribe her readings in the future—another heirloom to treasure.
"No more copying for you," he said. "Too many words—you'll tire."
Wei Wei didn't mind, but Felix insisted. His writing as she read sounded like a delightful marital activity.
After New Year's, sunny days followed. Consulting weather experts confirmed temperatures would rise, with only light snow ahead—no travel disruptions. Thus, the serfs were told to prepare for Sardinson.
Households in the lower district now belonging to Earl Williams were summoned. None fled or hid, gathering as ordered on departure day.
Some had considered escaping, but adults' identities were recorded. Capture meant enslavement or execution—a risk none dared take, especially those who'd sold themselves for stability.
Carriages and mercenaries had been hired, and supplies and warm gear prepared. Felix also bought local goods for the knights to escort home. The thousand-strong group—two-thirds serfs—could handle anything short of an army. But Felix doubted bandits would attack—most were nobles' pawns anyway.
Hank and his brother queued to board, transformed after days of care. The once-gaunt boys had filled out, their clean faces rosy in the cold. Warm clothes replaced their blankets, and leather shoes with wool lining kept their feet toasty. Their old blankets now served as bundles—holding wooden bowls, spoons, and, for Hank, two eggs, a meat pie, and a charcoal stick wrapped in rags.
The eggs and pie were rewards for good studies—saved for the journey. The charcoal was his writing tool, inspired by Jane's example. Though snow and dirt served as practice surfaces, some, like Hank, used charcoal on stone, washing it clean afterward—a tolerated habit.
Now, eager for Sardinson's promised life, Hank ignored familiar figures lurking at the gates—former overseers signaling for them to sneak back. But why return to misery? The convoy had knights, soldiers, and mercenaries. Those bullies wouldn't dare approach.
Others shared his resolve. The children boarded quietly, leaving the city of their birth without a backward glance.