Compared to our wedding night, he seemed more patient this time. His hair brushed against my neck, making me itch and laugh lightly. As he leaned closer, I felt him lift his head, warm lips near my ear softly calling, “Little demon, little demon.”
I mumbled in response. He hugged my shoulders, murmuring, “You are mine, my wife. No one can take you away.”
“No one will take me away,” I comforted him, softening as I hugged his waist. “Zhuo Yi, let’s have a child.”
His body stiffened, and he stopped moving. I opened my eyes to see his bright gaze.
“Why?”
Feeling frustrated, I found an excuse. “Father gave me the jade tablet and gold proclamation today. Thank you.”
Discussing this on the bed felt inappropriate.
He laughed, his tone unreadable. “Just because of those few pieces of paper, you want to bear a child for me? This doesn’t sound like you.”
“No, father said—” I swallowed, recalling his words. “He said they’re waiting to hold a grandchild—”
His hand on my shoulder tightened painfully, and I didn’t dare to make a sound.
“Xiao Yao, you’re still the same as before,” his tone turned cold, hiding anger. “Heartless! What is your heart made of? You’re so compliant with a word from your parents, but what about me? Have you ever treated me like a husband?”
His words were contradictory and disconnected, clearly showing he was truly angry. I didn’t expect this would affect him so deeply. Just as I was about to explain, he suddenly got up and left, sweeping his sleeve.
The surroundings became very cold. I sighed, pulled the cotton quilt over and curled up.
This was how we got along. Every time we seemed to be nearing harmony, some discordant element would emerge to disrupt the mood.
He had a knot in his heart, one I had tied myself. When I tied it, I never thought this knot would become my own problem.
After I turned thirteen, I began painting beauties for the Shai Yue Studio, and it became my career. From thirteen to fifteen, I painted countless famous beauties, both male and female, from respectable families and pleasure quarters, some I sought to paint, others who invited me.
Behind these beauties were numerous pursuers. Most maintained an aloof appearance on the surface but moved freely among these admirers, enjoying fleeting romances.
And these pursuers were mostly like wandering bees and butterflies, often chasing multiple targets.
I had seen too many examples of those who declared eternal love to one person yesterday but were sending flirtatious glances to another today. Faces that seemed passionate one moment turned cold the next. Gradually, I became somewhat detached about love and romance. My adolescent years had transformed me into a stubborn, unromantic person.
With no illusions about love, I viewed marriage practically. Although I earned some money from painting, it barely covered our family’s basic expenses. I had responsibilities—my older brother needed to marry, my younger sister required a dowry, and I had to help my mother repay gambling debts. At fifteen, I decided to marry into a wealthy family to support my family in the future.
Around this time, eighteen-year-old An Jin, blushing, brought a package of sugar cakes to confess, asking if I would marry him.
At that moment, An Jin had not yet become a Ministry of Personnel official and hadn’t even taken the exam. The An family relied on some inherited property and income from their book studio, making them no better off than my family. After seriously considering it for a day, I returned the sugar cakes and told him I preferred to marry a rich man.
An Jin’s face turned pale as he stood blankly on the small path between our families. I felt guilty. If I had known he was waiting to marry me, I would have discouraged him sooner. So, I comforted him, “With your looks, you’ll find a lady from a good family. Don’t waste time on me.”
He looked at me with hatred, and the pastries he held were crushed, ultimately ending up in a dog’s stomach. This formed a grudge between us, leading to estrangement. I had a few romantic encounters afterward, but they all ended poorly. Eventually, I remained unmarried until eighteen, when he proposed.
Chapter Four: A Harmonious Household
After An Jin became a deputy minister, the An family stayed in their ancestral mansion, adjacent to mine. My father-in-law encouraged visits home, while my mother-in-law was indifferent. An Jin, after our last conversation, was absent for several days. With this situation, I continued to return to my parents’ home happily.
Mother was not at the gambling house but sitting in the courtyard under the crabapple tree, doing needlework.
Since my elder brother was imprisoned, she had reduced her gambling house visits from daily to once every three days, staying only an hour and never carrying more than five taels of silver, which relieved both my brother and me. When I arrived with packages of snacks and gifts, she put down her work and came to me, taking the items and saying with slight reproach, “Why did you bring so much back?”
I was surprised. Previously, she would be overjoyed and hint at the family’s financial difficulties. This time, she seemed to care about my well-being, which was unusual.
I examined her carefully. “Are you really my mother?”
She put the items down and knocked me on the head. “Silly girl! Can’t you recognize your own mother?!”
Relieved, I handed her a bank note. “This is for my brother’s marriage and my younger sister’s dowry. Please keep it safe and don’t go to the gambling house anymore.”
She hesitated, seemingly engaged in internal struggle. After a moment, she pushed the note back into my hand. “Yao’er, you don’t need to bring money home anymore. Your parents will handle your brother and sister’s matters. You should focus on your husband.”
I sensed something. Could my mother have always believed these items and money came from the An family? In fact, the An family’s economic power was in my mother-in-law’s hands, and I didn’t have the courage to ask her for money, let alone request it from An Jin. So, I pushed the banknote back. “Mother, this is what I earned myself.”
Mother and my brother thought I painted for the Sai Yue Studio, assuming I created traditional bird-and-flower paintings. She didn’t believe me: “How much can you get from selling a painting? That scholar Qi sells shrimp paintings for two taels of silver, barely enough to eat! Don’t you think I know?”
I was speechless. “Fine, this is the last time. Just take it.”
Mother hesitated, then kept it, muttering, “Don’t forget to buy nice clothes and cosmetics. You must dress up to keep a man’s heart…”
I found this uncomfortable, but when I tried to ask more, she refused to say anything. I was puzzled. An Jin’s flirtatious reputation was not new; why would my mother suddenly say such things? Before I could think more, a dog’s bark approached, and a white figure rushed towards me.
I quickly stepped back. “Stop!”
The white figure halted, sliding several feet before stopping at my feet, looking up at me pitifully.
“Yuan Xiao,” I sighed with relief. “You finally understand.” I bent down and rubbed the dog’s head. It half-closed its eyes, probably still disgruntled about not being allowed to rush at me.
Yuan Xiao was a small, long-haired male dog from Western Liang, with ancestors known for fox hunting. Unfortunately, there were no foxes in Yan Feng. After it caught the neighbors’ chickens and ducks several times, I locked it in a small room and scolded it. Since then, it learned to behave and occasionally caught mice.
