Transmigration; Married to My Ex-Fiancé's Uncle-Chapter 310; Celestial Princess 1

The wine was stronger than she’d anticipated, a fact becoming increasingly obvious. A warm, loose feeling was spreading from her core to her limbs, softening the sharp edges of her anger and hurt. Her cheeks grew pleasantly warm.

Lu Yuze ate in watchful silence as she continued her pattern: a nibble of food, a gulp of wine. The glass was refilled twice more. Her movements grew slower, more deliberate, and a slight, unfocused smile began to play on her lips.

"You know," she said suddenly, her words starting to slur just a fraction. "He looked so... so stricken. Like I’d slapped him. Did you see his face?"

"I saw," Lu Yuze said gently.

"Serves him right," she declared, but the venom was gone from her tone, replaced by a melancholic confusion. "Keeping secrets... whole... whole people. That’s not a secret, that’s a... a universe."

She poured more wine, missing the glass slightly so a crimson rivulet ran onto the polished table. She stared at it, fascinated.

"Look. It’s like blood. But it’s not. It’s just grapes. Squished grapes." She giggled, a light, airy sound that was utterly at odds with the tension of the morning.

Lu Yuze watched, a mixture of concern and helpless affection stirring within him. The formidable, sharp-tongued celestial princess was dissolving before his eyes, leaving behind someone younger, more vulnerable.

She stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly.

"I need to... to articulate my thoughts," she announced with drunken gravitas.

Before he could stop her, she stepped onto her chair, and then, with surprising grace for someone in her condition, hoisted herself up to stand on the dining table. Her stockinged feet stood between the dishes.

"Honey, get down from there!" Lu Yuze said, rising from his seat.

"I am perfectly fine!" she declared, raising her arms expansively. "I have the high ground! Metaphorically... and literally!" She giggled again, swaying slightly.

She looked down at him, her eyes glittering. "Lu Yuze! You! You are... annoyingly handsome. And annoyingly calm. And you have no secret children! That’s... that’s a point in your favor." She nodded decisively.

Then her expression clouded. "But him! Long Tian! King of Secrets! Emperor of Hidden Babies!" Her voice rose, echoing in the high-ceilinged room. "A curse upon poor communication! A plague upon secret-keeping fathers! May all your socks be forever damp! May your tea always be lukewarm! May you... May you step on a celestial Lego brick every morning!"

She was shouting now, her curses absurd and heartfelt, all the pent-up frustration of years pouring out in a ridiculous, drunken torrent.

The maids had gathered discreetly at the kitchen entrance, hands over their mouths, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Shuyin stumbled, and Lu Yuze lunged forward, his hands going to her waist to steady her. She looked down at his hands, then back at his face.

"You have nice hands," she observed quietly. Then she sighed, the anger evaporating as quickly as it came. She sat down cross-legged right there on the tabletop, amidst the lunch dishes.

"I’m not drunk," she stated with utter conviction, her words slurring. "I am... hydrating. With... fermented hydration."

"Of course you are," Lu Yuze said, his voice soft. He gently pried the wine glass from her fingers. "Why don’t you come down and hydrate with some water?"

She ignored him, looking around the room as if seeing it for the first time. "This is a nice house. You have a nice house. Do I live here? I think I live here. With you." She pointed a wobbly finger at him. "You’re my husband. We have a contract."

"We do," he agreed, smiling.

"I haven’t kissed you yet," she said, her tone suddenly one of scientific curiosity. "We sleep in the same bed, but no kissing. That’s strange, isn’t it?"

Before he could answer, she flopped onto her back on the table, staring up at the chandelier. "The world is spinning. But nicely. Like a merry-go-round." She closed her eyes. "I am not drunk. I am... conducting rotational experiments."

Lu Yuze knew it was time to intervene. He slid his arms under her, one behind her back, the other under her knees.

"Alright, rotational experiment is over," he said softly.

She didn’t fight him. Instead, she nestled her head against his shoulder as he lifted her off the table. "You’re warm," she mumbled into his shirt.

As he carried her out of the dining room toward the stairs, she lifted her head one last time, looking back at the maids with regal, if bleary, dignity.

"Clean that up," she commanded, gesturing vaguely toward the table. Then she added, far less regally, "The fish was good. Probably."

She buried her face back in his neck. "Don’t let go," she whispered, the words so faint he almost missed them.

"I won’t," he promised, his heart tightening in his chest. He carried his drunk, cursing, giggling, heartbroken wife up to their bedroom, where the real world and its painful secrets could wait until morning.

Lu Yuze carried Shuyin up the sweeping staircase, her weight a comfortable warmth against his chest. She had grown quiet, her earlier fiery theatrics replaced by a heavy, wine-saturated lethargy. Her breathing deepened, evening out against the fabric of his shirt.

He shouldered his way into their spacious master bedroom, the soft grey light of the overcast afternoon filtering through the sheer curtains. Gently, he lowered her onto the king-sized bed, her body sinking into the plush duvet. She murmured something incoherent and curled onto her side, one hand tucked under her cheek.

For a moment, he simply stood there, watching her. The sharp, assessing glint was gone from her eyes, the defensive tension erased from her posture. In sleep, she looked younger, and the vulnerability she so fiercely guarded was laid bare. A strand of hair had fallen across her face. Carefully, he brushed it back.

He moved to the en-suite bathroom, running the tap until the water was warm. He found a soft, clean face towel and soaked it, wringing it out until it was just damp. Returning to the bedside, he sat on the edge of the mattress.