Quick Transmigration: The Sweetheart Everyone Loves Is Stuck in Romantic Chaos Every Day - Chapter 51

Just thinking about that innocent, breathtaking girl—the same one who had surprised everyone earlier, and who last night had bloomed into a different kind of alluring tenderness in Luo Qingli’s arms—felt like a knife twisting into Tuoba Hong’s chest.

What expression did she wear then? What posture, what mix of panic and shyness? He knew nothing, and had no right to know.

The only man who did have the right was his friend, Luo Qingli.

“It hurts.”

The man clutched his chest and drew a painful breath. The ache was a thousand times worse than any wound he’d taken on the battlefield.

It seemed he had truly fallen for that soft, laughing girl.

Tuoba Hong managed a bitter smile and tried to steady himself.

“General.”

A soft, syrupy voice called him sweetly.

He blinked—had longing produced a mirage? Then he looked up and saw the girl he couldn’t stop thinking about sitting on a branch of the locust tree, smiling at him with gentle, curved eyes.

His heart skipped.

“You—what are you doing up in the tree?”

Ruan Tang held up the small handkerchief she’d used to gather a cluster of white, fragrant locust flowers. “I wanted to make acacia-flower cakes, so I climbed up. But I don’t know how to get down…” She bit her lip in embarrassment, utterly adorable.

“Luckily you came, General—can you help me?”

Each soft, coaxing “General” struck his heart like a drum; he felt himself melt. He pulled himself together and, in a low, steady voice that suddenly sounded very dependable, said, “Hold on tight. I’ll climb up.”

He sprung up lightly, landing on the branch with graceful ease. One hand steadied the limb while the other reached out to her; behind him, the locust blossoms framed his handsome, rugged face with an unexpected tenderness.

“Here—give me your hand.”

Ruan Tang obediently placed her small hand in his palm. His hand was broad and strong, sun-kissed wheat-colored skin contrasting with her porcelain-white fingers. Tuoba Hong didn’t dare squeeze too hard for fear of hurting her.

A simple handhold wasn’t enough. With a quiet “Pardon me,” he looped his arm around her slender waist and, cradling her, leapt down from the branch, landing steadily on the ground.

At first she was terrified and curled into his powerful embrace, tiny fingers clinging to his robe, her cheek pressed to his broad chest, eyes shut tight. But when she opened them again and realized she was safely on the ground—what a wonder!—she’d seen the fabled lightness of movement.

Her eyes lit up with excitement; she looked up at Tuoba Hong with sparkling peach-blossom eyes.

“General-gege, can you make me fly again? I was too scared before and didn’t dare open my eyes.” (t/n: “gege” is an affectionate term meaning “older brother”; used here as a cute, familiar address.)

That soft, syrupy “General-gege” made Tuoba Hong’s knees go weak. How could anyone be this adorable? When she was quiet and compliant, she was unbearably lovable; when she acted coquettish, it was impossible not to melt.

“Alright—hold tight.”

He smiled indulgently and, arms firm around her, lifted her off the ground again. They soared between the locust trees.

“Wheee!”

Ruan Tang squealed with delight as the scenery blurred past. In her excitement she fumbled, dropping the handkerchief full of locust flowers—the pure white blossoms scattered and were carried away by the wind.

Her eyes instantly filled with tears, painfully pitiful. “Waa—I picked those for ages…”

“Don’t cry.”

The deep, magnetic voice above her soothed. “I’ll pick them for you.”

He darted between the trees and soon returned with a generous handful of newly plucked blossoms. Ruan Tang tucked them into her apron; her lashes still caught glistening tears, but she was smiling, cheeks warmed with excitement and a hint of rosy charm.

“Thank you, General-gege—TangTang is so happy!”

Amid the swirling shower of locust blossoms, Tuoba Hong watched the girl smiling in his arms and felt his heart pound like a drum.

It was over. He was doomed—on an irreversible path.

Sorry, Luo—he thought guiltily.

Ruan Tang filled a cloth bag with the blossoms, waved farewell to Tuoba Hong, and cheerfully headed back toward her little villa. A few steps later she ran straight into someone leaning against a tree: Luo Qingli, expressionless, watching her.

He wore a robe faintly dusted with earth, his pale face as divinely handsome as ever—but an inexplicable chill clung to him; his eyes were edged with ice.

Ruan Tang sensed something wrong and froze. She didn’t step forward; she measured him carefully.

Luo Qingli narrowed those cold eyes. “Why aren’t you smiling?”

He stepped close, hooked a long finger under her pointed chin, and forced her face up. “You were laughing so happily with my friend earlier—why do you put on a cold face the moment you see me?” His finger tightened a little.

Ruan Tang frowned and let out a soft, pained sound. “Ouch…”

Luo Qingli seemed to come back to himself and immediately released her. But something seemed stuck in his chest; he coughed, sullen and labored.

Ruan Tang looked at him timidly and, after a beat, asked carefully, “Are you all right?”

He snorted. “Not dead. Might be sick of looking at you.”

She didn’t quite understand his meaning, so she fell silent and bent to look at the sack of locust flowers in her hands, clearly not intending to engage further.

Luo Qingli sighed.

“Why did you pick these? Just have the servants buy them. Don’t climb trees—it’s dangerous.”

She pouted. “None of your business.”

His coughing grew worse.

“You’re my princess consort—if not me, then who should care? Tuoba Hong?”

Ruan Tang turned her face away, refusing even to look at him.

“You didn’t use to care about me either!” she shot back.

“That was before—” Luo Qingli hesitated, then a sudden idea bloomed in his eyes. “Are you doing this because of something from before?”

That would explain her earlier behavior. Maybe she noticed him nearby and deliberately drew close to Tuoba Hong just to make him jealous—to get his attention.

The thought made the corner of his mouth lift involuntarily. How endearing.

“Wife.”

For the first time, Luo Qingli softened his tone when he called her, and the sound pleased him.

“I was wrong before. From now on, I will make amends.”

He placed both hands on Ruan Tang’s shoulders and looked down at her with gentleness in his gaze.

“So stop doing these needless things to make me angry, understood?”

Ruan Tang blinked, puzzled. What was he saying? She didn’t understand a single word. Did he mean she should stop making him mad?

She cocked her head, thought for a moment, then brightly replied, “Don’t worry! Soon I won’t make you angry anymore!”

Because she’d already decided to write the divorce note.

Once that was done, she’d leave this miserable manor and start a happy adventure across the land!