Vecna's POV:
Madam Lauren Anderson instructed the wet nurse to arrange a room for Dorian. With nothing else pressing, she then summoned me to her chambers.
"I see everyone has prepared birthday gifts for Joseph. Why is it that you, his wife, have nothing at all?"
When a son refuses to listen, a mother-in-law naturally turns to the daughter-in-law instead. I had known she would bring this up; there was no avoiding it. I had spent the entire night thinking and still couldn't come up with anything suitable. I had planned to deal with it perfunctorily, only to be caught red-handed by her.
"I… let me think a little longer."
After leaving Evercrest Estate, I happened to run into Dominic, who was leading Andy back toward the villa where Dorian had lived before her marriage. I stepped forward and stopped uncle and nephew.
"What are you giving your brother for his birthday?"
Dominic's face immediately filled with the same helplessness.
"What could I possibly give him? With his picky temperament, what gift would ever catch his eye? I thought it over and finally hand-copied a Bible for him, wishing him health, peace, and that all things go smoothly, Amen. He was already very pleased just seeing that my handwriting has improved a bit."
I laughed, finding it both humorous and painfully realistic.
"That really is the most reliable approach."
Dominic grew even more pleased with himself.
"Of course. People like me and you, Sister-in-law, are the type with no real talents to speak of. Any small improvement is already the greatest gift to Eldest Brother."
He even encouraged me,
"Why don't you copy one too?"
It was a good idea, but I couldn't follow it. I had written letters back and forth with Joseph before, he would recognize my handwriting instantly. If that were exposed, it would be dangerous.
On the way back to the Pavilion of Eternal Spring, as I passed the birch grove behind the residence slender white trunks, leaves whispering softly in the light breeze, an idea suddenly flashed through my mind.
…
Joseph's POV:
When night fell, I left the palace and returned home. As usual, I went straight to the study.
The moment I sat down and took a sip of warm water, I noticed several stewards standing with their heads bowed, faces drawn tight as if they had committed some grave offense.
"What is it?"
Steward Lingsley stammered,
"Sir… the birch grove behind the Pavilion of Eternal Spring… has been cut down."
I froze. My expression darkened instantly.
I had planted that stand of birches when I was ten years old. The soil hadn't suited them at first; the trees were weak, and it took many years of careful tending before they became a grove of straight white trunks, looking from afar like a bright ribbon of cloud. I cherished it as much as anything in the estate.
And now it had been felled.
"Who cut it?"
In truth, I had already guessed. Other than Vecna, no one in the household would dare touch my things without permission.
Before anyone could answer, I snapped,
"Why didn't you stop it?"
The steward replied, trembling,
"You instructed us that encountering Mrs. Vecna is the same as encountering you, sir. We didn't dare interfere."
I said nothing more. What was done was done. I wasn't about to reprimand her over something like this.
Still, the irritation lingered in my chest.
…
After bathing in the study, I returned to the Pavilion of Eternal Spring. The courtyard was quiet, lit only by faint lamps. Out of habit, I looked toward the birch grove, the large gap in the once-white expanse made the entire garden feel unbalanced. I shook my head slightly, a heavy weight settling in my heart.
When I entered the bedroom, Vecna was already asleep.
The deputy housekeeper was still waiting for me, rare at this hour. She stepped forward, holding a small object in both hands as if it were a pearl.
"Young Master, Mrs. Vecna carved a birch leaf for you. She said it's your birthday gift."
I paused, my gaze settling on the small wooden leaf before I reached out to take it.
The birch leaf was no larger than my palm, carved in the likeness of a real one: clear veins, evenly serrated edges, the wood surface smooth and pale, almost without any visible tool marks.
I hadn't expected her to be this skillful.
The irritation in my chest eased by half.
"Is Madam asleep?"
"Yes, sir."
The deputy housekeeper drew back the curtain to invite me in and explained,
"She worked all afternoon. From early afternoon, she was busy selecting the softest pieces of birch wood, sawing them herself, then sanding and carving. She didn't finish until seven in the evening. She was exhausted and only just fell asleep."
I nodded and carried the wooden leaf into the room.
Only a small glass lamp remained lit in the corner. I placed the leaf on the antique display shelf and looked toward the bed.
The curtains were half drawn, concealing most of her figure.
I washed my hands, blew out the lamp, and went to bed, pulling the curtain down.
My mother's words from the afternoon still echoed in my mind, but I truly didn't know how to cross this distance between us. Vecna had been married into the household for some time, yet she had never taken the initiative to approach me. I didn't return to the bedroom; she never came to my study.
Even on my birthday, she only smiled and spoke with Dominic, I didn't receive a single word.
Clearly, she had no such intention.
And I wasn't certain… whether she truly wished to be husband and wife with me.
…
The night wind slipped coldly through the dark corridor. I gradually grew accustomed to the faint cool scent lingering on her. Just as drowsiness set in, I heard a slight movement.
Opening my eyes, I saw her shift closer probably cold, instinctively burrowing into the covers.
A thread of warmth brushed lightly against my arm. She inhaled softly and then slept on.
I knew it wasn't intentional. Her back rested against the bed, her forehead angled toward me. I watched her for a moment, then let her remain close neither avoiding her nor making any unnecessary movement.
…
Vecna's POV:
As usual, he woke while the sky was still barely light. The moment Joseph stirred, I lost my support; my head slid down, startling me awake.
He propped himself halfway up, one foot already on the edge of the bed. I looked straight at him, my eyes still clouded with sleep. In that instant, the distance between us shrank to something unprecedented so close that our breaths seemed to touch. A faint, gentle chill from his body still lingered on my forehead, like a fragile trace of the night that had just passed.
Only then did I gauge the distance between myself and the edge of the bed and realize: last night, I had encroached so far onto his side that I'd pressed him all the way into the corner. He probably had nowhere left to retreat and could only let me lean against him.
Both of us were a little awkward.
After a few seconds of silence, Joseph looked away.
"It's still early. Go back to sleep for a while."
His voice was low and calm, like an unruffled lake.
Footsteps began to sound outside, lamps being brought in. The room gradually brightened.
Joseph had already changed into his underlayer and a tailored black suit, standing by the bed, tall and aloof as ever.
I sat up, adjusted my hair, and asked politely,
"It's not even dawn yet… do you always wake so early?"
He turned his back to me, straightening the collar of his white shirt.
"The envoys enter the capital today. There's much to do. I must leave early."
At the word "envoys," my heart stirred slightly.
He held a crucial position at court; what he said could shift the political winds themselves.
If I could draw just a little closer even just a little, I would surely learn a great deal, from the Stonecrest Institute and from him.
With that thought, I immediately got up, adjusted my night robe, tied the sash, and stepped down from the bed.
Joseph was being attended by the deputy housekeeper as he washed up. I stood slightly to the side, my gaze unconsciously drifting to the long table near the window, where his diplomatic attire had already been prepared: a black tailcoat edged in pale green, hung neatly, its cut sharp and precise; the Anderson family crest fastened at the shoulder, its muted metallic sheen solemn and restrained; beside it lay an emerald silk cravat, carefully folded, its deep green cool and dignified; at the bottom was a black leather belt with a jade buckle, the Anderson family heirloom, placed separately on a velvet tray like an irreplaceable seal.
The deputy housekeeper glanced at me and, seeing my eyes linger on the belt, understood at once. She quietly withdrew, leaving the space to the two of us.
Joseph naturally realized I intended to help.
Though we had shared a bed a few times before, this was the first time I had voluntarily risen early to assist him in preparing his formal attire.
Last night, I had offered him a birthday gift.
This morning, I was personally helping him dress…
Even without saying it aloud, to someone as perceptive as him, this was a very clear gesture.
I opened the garment case and took out the black tailcoat trimmed in green. Joseph slipped it on quickly; his shoulders were broad, his back straight, his posture so fine that the suit seemed made for him alone.
I stepped forward to help fasten the family crest on his chest, then reached for the emerald silk cravat.
Finally came the black leather belt with the jade buckle, the most difficult part.
The Anderson family's belt clasp was exquisitely designed, with a dual-lock mechanism secure, yet complicated.
I hesitated, truly unsure where to begin.
Joseph saw it immediately. The corner of his mouth curved slightly, but he said nothing.
I lifted my eyes to glance at him. The light in the room fell across his face, beautiful and coldly defined, enough to make one catch their breath for a moment.
When he was silent, his whole presence radiated a chill of "do not approach." Yet when his gaze focused on someone, it carried a pull that was hard to escape.
It wasn't that I'd never fastened ceremonial belts for others before.
But this time, I couldn't afford to reveal any weakness.
After a brief, rapid calculation, I let my hands fall and said frankly, "I… don't know how."