Chapter 17 The Joys of the Bedchamber!

Chapter 17: Marital Joys!

The moment the marriage certificate appeared, Wu Qiu forgot his distress entirely and stared, dumbfounded, at the crimson paper. Lei Ding extended it toward him. Wu Qiu felt as if in a daze, reaching out numbly to take it. The vivid red seared his fingertips, jolting him back to awareness. He instinctively withdrew his hand—then stretched it out again, cradling the document reverently, studying it with rapt attention.

Wu Qiu had only begun learning to read a few days earlier; he recognized few of the characters inscribed upon it—but he knew instantly it was Lei Ding’s handwriting. His gaze traced each stroke, following the ink lines as though admiring a rare, singular treasure. Lei Ding waited patiently, offering no prompting, simply accompanying him as they examined it together.

After a long while, Wu Qiu turned his head to look at Lei Ding. A smile tugged irresistibly at his lips—but his voice still held a trace of uncertainty, as if seeking reassurance: “Is this… our marriage certificate?”

Lei Ding tapped Wu Qiu’s nose, his eyes crinkling with deep, tender mirth: “Of course it is.”

Wu Qiu carefully placed the crimson paper back on the table, then hurriedly moved the damp brush farther away, terrified even a speck of ink might stain it. He sighed softly: “Our marriage certificate!”

Lei Ding kissed his hair: “It’s not quite finished yet. We’ll complete it together in a moment. In theory, the Three Letters and Six Etiquettes require many preparations—but I couldn’t wait any longer, so I drafted this first. I never expected you’d stumble upon it before it was done.”

Wu Qiu wrapped his arms around Lei Ding’s neck. Hearing this, he pouted and snorted—but smiled even more brightly: “If you truly didn’t want me to see it, you could’ve written it anywhere else—even back in the east wing courtyard. You knew full well I’d pass through here, so why write it right here?”

As he spoke, Lei Ding thought of something else—the east wing courtyard where he and Wu Qiu would one day live together—and his heart softened involuntarily. “Qiu Er, do you want to know what’s written on it?”

Wu Qiu nodded, sitting up straight, his expression turning solemn.

Lei Ding pointed word by word at the gilded crimson paper, reading aloud to Wu Qiu—pausing occasionally to kiss his face, lips, ears, and hair. His voice remained deep and soothing, murmuring slowly beside Wu Qiu’s ear:

“On this auspicious autumn day, we request to join two families in matrimony. Though our acquaintance is brief, our mutual admiration runs deep. We wish to emulate the harmony of Pan and Yang, and seek the friendship of Liang and Meng. We pledge to unite in marital bliss, promising to stay together until our hair turns white. We swear by our joined hair, to love and trust without doubt. With heaven and earth as our witnesses, we solemnly make this vow—Qiu Er, this means we will accompany each other for a lifetime, respecting and loving one another.”

The date at the end read: “The nineteenth day of the seventh month, Year Six of Ninghe.” Lei Ding picked up the brush, dipped it fully in ink, and said: “We’re still missing our two names—written at the very end. It wasn’t finished just now, so let’s write them together.”

For a moment, Wu Qiu’s mind went blank. This scene felt like a dream—so blissful it stirred suspicion. A childish fear rose within him: Could all of this be just a dream? Would he wake tomorrow to find himself back in that dilapidated village shrine? He rubbed his eyes hard—and secretly pinched his hand twice.

Fortunately, he was still safely nestled in Lei Ding’s arms. The reassuring warmth enveloped him, settling his heart firmly back in place.

Lei Ding wrote his own name first, then handed the brush to Wu Qiu: “Qiu Er, write yours here—right beside mine. I’ll guide your hand.”

Wu Qiu’s hand trembled. Lei Ding gently clasped it from behind—his own hand large and strong, completely enveloping Wu Qiu’s, steadying the trembling brush tip. Suddenly overcome with emotion, Wu Qiu feared tears would fall onto the paper. He pressed his lips tightly together, holding them back—watching, breathless, as his name slowly appeared beside Lei Ding’s.

He set down the brush and gently blew on the ink to dry it. His voice was slightly hoarse as he said to Lei Ding: “Maybe you should’ve written it. My hand shook too much—it doesn’t look good.”

Lei Ding’s own heart pounded fiercely, unsettled beyond measure. Hearing Wu Qiu’s voice tremble on the verge of tears, his chest constricted. Hoarsely, he replied: “You wrote this with your own hand. It’s perfect.”

Then he captured Wu Qiu’s lips. Never before had he been so urgent—kissing him deeply until Wu Qiu whimpered softly, his face burning crimson. When they finally parted, Wu Qiu was nearly breathless, lightheaded, his body softening against Lei Ding as he coughed lightly.

Lei Ding retrieved a handkerchief, wiping the sweat from Wu Qiu’s brow—and the faint moisture at the corner of his mouth. Wu Qiu had barely caught his breath—but his heart overflowed with joy, sweet as honey. So he didn’t reproach Lei Ding for his rare recklessness—only buried his face in Lei Ding’s shoulder, too shy to meet his gaze.

Lei Ding turned his face, stroking Wu Qiu’s back to help him regain his breath. From this angle, he noticed a faint red dot on Wu Qiu’s earlobe—and asked casually: “Qiu Er, did you pierce your ears? I’ve never seen you wear earrings.”

Wu Qiu’s breathing had just steadied. He spoke lazily: “I used to wear them—but later… in the village, I dared not. I feared drawing unwanted attention. It’s been so long since I wore them—the piercings closed on their own. I originally owned two pairs, but after the flood, I lost them all—except this one. My mother made it for me when I was little, just to play with. I always kept it close to my body—but even so, I lost one. Now only this remains.”

As he spoke, he drew a small pendant from inside his robe. It was green—not precious, merely a smooth, polished stone. Its color was delicate, glowing softly in his palm. Wu Qiu gazed at it for a moment—then suddenly smiled: “If my parents knew, from beyond the grave, that I’m marrying you… they’d surely be happy too.”

He lifted the pendant, holding it against his earlobe, and asked: “Is it pretty? It’s a pity only one side remains.”

That touch of green, under candlelight, wasn’t especially vibrant—but it harmonized perfectly with the summer air, completing the picture like a final flourish—complementing the faint red mole at the corner of Wu Qiu’s eye. Lei Ding’s throat tightened; it felt parched, as if needing water to moisten it: “Very pretty.”

Wu Qiu laughed: “They say one should adorn oneself for the one who delights in them. Since you say it’s pretty—I’ll believe you. Don’t deceive me. Tomorrow—once this disaster passes—I’ll get my ears pierced again and wear them for you.”

Lei Ding nodded: “Qiu Er is naturally handsome. If you like, you may dress elegantly in the future—it would be like adding flowers to brocade. In the past, my father and my dad were eager for me to marry, and had already prepared betrothal gifts—including several sets of jewelry. Later, when they stopped urging me, I kept those things myself. Qiu Er—would you like to see them?”

Wu Qiu agreed. They tidied the study. The marriage certificate was carefully folded—and Lei Ding entrusted it to Wu Qiu to keep tucked inside his robe, telling him to hold onto it, hoping to ease some of his unease. They’d stayed rather long; when they emerged, the lights in the main hall were already extinguished. Lei Ding held a candlestick, and Wu Qiu boldly snuggled close—secretly gripping one of Lei Ding’s fingers.

The east wing courtyard was more spacious than the west wing, where Lei Li and Lei Tan resided. It was an independent, small courtyard, separated from the main compound by a small gate. Inside, against the north wall stood Lei Ding’s bedroom; to the east lay his private study; and along the south wall sat an empty storeroom filled with miscellaneous items. Wu Qiu had worked at the clinic for over a month but rarely visited this courtyard. If he needed Lei Ding, he’d simply wait at the entrance or call out from the courtyard gate. This was the first time Lei Ding led him inside—and he felt oddly nervous.

Lei Ding paused at the bedroom door, turned, and looked at Wu Qiu: “I’ve kept all those things in my room. Is Qiu Er willing to come in—or shall I bring them out for us to examine?”

There seemed to be something unspoken beneath his words. Wu Qiu wasn’t sure if he was overthinking—but regardless, he was willing. He nodded, his face flushing as he whispered softly: “Just… let’s go in…”

Lei Ding took his hand and led him step by step into the room—then closed the door behind them.

The furnishings were simple. In the outer area stood a square table flanked by two round-backed chairs, and a cabinet nearby. The inner area was screened off by a gauzy curtain. Lei Ding rolled it aside. Wu Qiu saw a writing desk with upturned ends beside the window, an armchair, a standing cabinet, and a six-post canopy bed. The bed curtains, pillows, and bedding were all dark green—cool and refreshing in summer. Lei Ding lit the lamp in the inner area with the candlestick he held.

Wu Qiu wanted to sit first in the armchair—but Lei Ding guided him directly onto the bed, then went to open the standing cabinet to retrieve the items.

Wu Qiu couldn’t resist secretly stroking Lei Ding’s bedding. Some calming incense likely hung inside the bed curtains—it smelled wonderfully soothing. That scent made him suddenly shy again. He was actually sitting on the bed of the man he loved. His thoughts drifted forward: After their formal wedding ceremony and rites, he’d probably move in here… His mind wandered further: Had Lei Ding brought him here tonight to… to…

Just then, Lei Ding returned, carrying a wooden box. He sat opposite Wu Qiu and said: “You open it.”

Inside, gleaming gold shimmered under the lamplight—Wu Qiu was stunned. Closer inspection revealed a pair of interlocking floral mandarin duck bracelets in red gold, a pair of jade earrings, a silver-inlaid red-gold hairpin, and a pair of carved red-gold rings. Lei Ding casually picked up a bracelet, took Wu Qiu’s hand, and placed it in his palm: “These were made years ago—I’m not sure if the size fits. Qiu Er, try it on.”

Wu Qiu hesitated: “This… this is far too valuable…”

In the past, in the village, he’d seen weddings—most used silver ornaments; wealthy families might own one or two gold pieces. Nothing like this complete set of gold jewelry.

Lei Ding shook his head: “These were accumulated over many years. To marry you, only the finest is fitting. These aren’t excessive. The patterns and styles may seem outdated now—if Qiu Er dislikes them, I can take them to a jeweler later and have them remade.”

Wu Qiu considered it—and accepted. He slipped the gold bracelet onto his wrist himself, rolled up his sleeve, and extended his arm to Lei Ding: “Look—is it pretty?”

Lei Ding smiled: “Pretty. Though seeing it this way, Qiu Er seems too thin. Tomorrow, I’ll ask Madam Liu if she can procure some fresh vegetables. You must eat more.”

Wu Qiu pinched his own cheek: “In the month I’ve been here, you’ve already fattened me up! Look—my face used to be much thinner.”

Lei Ding followed his hand and pinched it too—then leaned in and gently bit his cheek. Wu Qiu giggled, pushed and jostled by him, tickled into collapsing backward onto several soft pillows. Lei Ding laughed too, leaning over him, hands framing Wu Qiu’s face as he gazed down.

Wu Qiu’s lips remained curved upward—but he grew quiet, looking up at Lei Ding and smiling silently. Lei Ding didn’t speak either—only gazed intently at Wu Qiu’s face, smiling gently in return.

The candlelight wasn’t bright, and the bed sat half-shaded by its curtains—dim and intimate. Lei Ding had studied ethics and propriety since childhood; a full system of conduct and social etiquette was deeply ingrained in him. And Wu Qiu, as a ger—especially after arriving in Xue Family Village—had absorbed villagers’ constant reminders that gers and women must strictly observe moral codes, never overstepping even half a step. Yet at this moment, those daily principles seemed blurred by the dimness—leaving only desire, rising unbidden from somewhere deep, making everything else fade away.

Wu Qiu’s heart raced wildly—pounding so hard it hurt. He tugged Lei Ding’s collar, drawing him down—and parted his lips slightly, inviting.

This time, Lei Ding returned to his usual gentleness—no longer urgent. Wu Qiu loved this deeply; for a moment, the frantic tremors throughout his body eased considerably. Perhaps because the window was shut and ventilation poor, warmth gradually built between them. Both broke into a light sweat. Lei Ding’s lips had already drifted from Wu Qiu’s mouth to his neck. Wu Qiu’s clothes were disheveled—revealing a sliver of his undergarment’s color.

It doesn’t matter, he thought. That marriage certificate, pressed against his chest, warmed his heart. After all—they were already engaged.

At that thought, Wu Qiu reached out and undid the buttons of his inner garment.

Lei Ding paused. He feared Wu Qiu wasn’t truly willing—that he was doing this only to please him. But studying Wu Qiu’s eyes, he sensed otherwise. Still, he asked: “Is Qiu Er willing?”

Wu Qiu nuzzled against his ear, voice muffled: “I’m willing, gege. You’re already my husband.”

This inner garment had been newly made after Wu Qiu arrived at the clinic—crafted from leftover fabric at home, whatever was available, not specially selected. He dressed plainly, favoring muted colors. Yet this one happened to be willow-yellow—delicate and soft—accentuating the snow-white skin of his arms and legs.

Lei Ding held him close, kissing him continuously and tenderly—unable to resist murmuring praise: “So pretty. Qiu Er looks exquisite in such bright colors.”

He exercised diligently and practiced martial arts regularly to cultivate strength and discipline. Now, candlelight traced the contours of muscle across his waist, abdomen, and chest. Wu Qiu watched, his face heating—blushing at the praise, unsure how to respond, shyly covering Lei Ding’s lips with his fingers: “Don’t say it… don’t say it…”

Lei Ding freed one hand to reach for those two jade pearls—teasing deliberately: “Why not say it? Qiu Er truly is extraordinarily beautiful.”

His fingertips applied gentle pressure, pinching lightly. Wu Qiu gasped twice—unable to speak—biting Lei Ding’s shoulder in playful protest.

Lei Ding chuckled: “Alright—I won’t say it. I won’t.”

Two drops of sweat slid from his temples, converging into a single glistening bead beneath his chin—then fell, landing on Wu Qiu’s skin. Wu Qiu shivered. Seeing this, he felt a pang of tenderness: “Just using your hands? Actually… you can also…” Lei Ding kissed his face: “Be good. Without proper preparation, you could get hurt. Qiu Er needn’t worry—leave it to me.”

He truly didn't let Wu Qiu suffer any injury. Even at the moment of joining, his movements remained as gentle as possible, and he dared not indulge in momentary pleasure. Since this was their first time, Lei Ding, as a physician, was well aware that rough handling could easily cause Wu Qiu discomfort, so he was careful in every way. Despite this, Wu Qiu still ended up with reddened eyes from crying, his lips bitten bright red by himself. Lei Ding saw this in the dim lamplight and, fearing he might bite through his lip, kissed him gently until he loosened his bite.

Wu Qiu sobbed intermittently, "It'll... be heard... by others..."

A wave of tenderness washed over Lei Ding, and he wiped his tears. "It won't. No one outside can hear."

Wu Qiu remained unconvinced, shaking his head between sniffles. The courtyard was rather small, and the night was quiet—any sound could be heard clearly. Lei Ding had no choice but to lean down and swallow those soft moans into his own mouth.

The green bed curtains had been let down at some point. A single flicker of lamplight cast overlapping silhouettes onto the canopy.

Author's Note:

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No choice—how did I accidentally pass midnight! It's too late, and I'm afraid the chapter will sink, so I changed the release time to the morning. This is the chapter for the 28th; I just posted it late, wuwuwu (my little pink flowers!). There will be another chapter tonight (the 29th)!

The era name in the story is made up; it's set in an alternate ancient background. If it coincides with any real one, it's unintentional—not on purpose, qwq.

The content of the marriage certificate is also made up. I didn't cite references because I didn't want to directly copy from sources. If any part resembles or overlaps with existing literature, it might be due to coincidental allusions or subconscious adaptation from things I've read before but don't remember! It's not intentional plagiarism! Feel free to point it out, and I'll revise to add footnotes and citations in the author's notes! Thank you, babies, bowing!

I hope writing so much of this intimate content will pass review smoothly...

Originally, when describing Lei Ding's bedroom, I referenced many ancient artifacts and included detailed names and materials for furniture. Then I realized this is from Wu Qiu's perspective. Qiu Bao (an affectionate name for Wu Qiu) has always lived in the countryside and isn't familiar with complex materials, so I deleted those parts and listed simpler, more modest items instead.

Actually, Cui Nanshan's family is somewhat well-off! Plus, the medical clinic earns a bit more than ordinary households, so although the Lei family isn't extremely wealthy, they do have some savings. That's why there are gold betrothal gifts.