TAMW CH43

Yuqing’s thighs were wedged tight against the man’s face, the fresh underclothes he had just put on nearly soaked through with tears.

This man was just like the holiday barley candies eaten around New Year’s in the dead of winter: apply the slightest heat, and he turned sticky and meltingly soft; to be rid of him, nothing short of endless washes of water would do.

Yet Yuqing had no way of shaking him off.

A feverish warmth pooled in his mind, his palms and inner thighs utterly drenched by Zhou Xiao’s weeping.

The man’s broad shoulders trembled twice, burying his face deeper, and then Yuqing felt a sudden, sharp pinch on his inner thigh.

“Why are you biting again?” Yuqing caught him by the hair, trying to haul his head up.

“Who told you to take up with someone else? Leaving a mark will at least remind him if he ever sees it that you already have a husband.”

Yuqing let out a helpless, breathless laugh. “Who on earth told you I have someone else?”

In Zhou Xiao’s eyes, there was no room for ambiguous, open-ended talk. His whole life had been as sharply defined as pine needles; he wanted only firm, absolute answers.

He would not have Yuqing brush him off with evasive word games.

“I won’t tease you again, all right?” Yuqing truly felt he had met his match.

“No,” came the muffled voice. “Does that mean you won’t even joke with me from now on?”

Thoroughly amused by this shameless scoundrel, Yuqing swallowed a low chuckle. “Just what do you want?”

Zhou Xiao burrowed his nose back between his thighs like a hound, nipping here and there through the fabric of the underclothes. Resting his chin aggrievedly on Yuqing’s knee, he tilted his face upward to gaze at his wife’s beautiful eyes, glittering with soft, scattered tenderness.

“Don’t just pacify me, my good Qingqing. Speak the honest truth: do you have me in your heart? Will you swear never to look at another?”

Yuqing’s heart gave a slight flutter. Wasn’t that his basic duty as a wedded wife? Why did it require a solemn vow? He had never heard of anything so absurd.

Indulging him, and unwilling to see him keep shedding tears, Yuqing smiled gently. “Yes, yes, my dear Zezhi. Will that do?”

“Aren’t the household affairs enough to run me ragged? Why would I ever look for anyone else? With just you alone, I’m already at my wit’s end…”

Zhou Xiao had returned in a rush today, without pomade in his hair, leaving it soft and slightly fluffy beneath his fingers.

“If what you say is false, let me be struck dead by a car the moment I step out tomorrow.”

Yuqing swatted his mouth. “Bite your tongue.”

Zhou Xiao did not believe in such things, so the words came easily to his lips. Yuqing, however, was traditional; such unlucky omens were never to be uttered, least of all by Zhou Xiao.

“If you truly mean what you say, why fear my swearing an oath?” Zhou Xiao stared up at him.

Yuqing seemed to catch a glimpse of frantic, manic obsession in those eyes. A scalding pair of lips pressed against the back of his hand. “Make the vow, Qingqing. That way, I will never doubt you again.”

His posture right now was like an overgrown infant curled at his mother’s feet. Yet it positioned him so that Yuqing needed only reach out to rest a palm atop his head; that soothing touch offered him an immense sense of security.

“Such words must not be spoken lightly…” Yuqing’s delicate brows knitted slightly. Looking down at the earnestness in his eyes, he could not bring himself to scold him, only pinching his cheek with gentle warmth. “Stop cursing yourself with such talk, do you hear me?”

“It’s ill fortune.”

“Then I’ll take it as though you’ve sworn it.” Pushing his luck, Zhou Xiao scrambled up onto the mattress.

The aged timber of the bed frame groaned beneath his weight.

He loved the creak of the old wood; only with sufficient weight did the frame make a sound, which meant Yuqing was lying right beside him.

Lying back, Yuqing mentioned that the custom-made Western bed had actually arrived some days ago, but required assembly. Since Zhou Xiao had not returned to stay for any long stretch, they had never replaced the furniture in the bedchamber. A Western bed did not quite suit an ancient ancestral compound like this either; Yuqing had considered furnishing a small modern townhouse outside for him, so that if Zezhi ever slept poorly here, he could stay there instead.

Hearing this, Zhou Xiao looked genuinely puzzled: “What Western bed? I never asked to live with such contraptions.”

“When I’m away, I miss home constantly. But there was never a room kept for me here. Remember when I first returned? We weren’t intimate like this yet, and not a single soul invited me to stay a night at the Zhou house. I had to make do outside; that night was bone-chillingly cold.”

Yuqing had nearly forgotten how long ago that was, yet Zhou Xiao brought it up without missing a beat.

Was he holding an old grudge?

He was the one who asked for a Western bed, and now he was the one refusing it.

“But I’ve already sent people to furnish the townhouse…”

Zhou Xiao gathered him tightly into his arms. “Once Qingming is born, we’ll hand the entire Zhou estate over to him. That was the old man’s greatest wish anyway. As for us, we’ll live as a pair of lovebirds in the townhouse—how does that sound?”

Yuqing countered, “Is this a child or a monster in my belly? How is Qingming supposed to manage the Zhou household the moment he’s born? What an extraordinarily capable child he must be.”

Having his petty calculations laid bare, Zhou Xiao turned unabashedly shy, burying his face against Yuqing’s swelling chest to suck. “I just want to be with you. Nothing else matters.”

Yuqing lacked the stamina to entertain his nonsense; lulled by his gentle nips and nuzzles, he gradually drifted off to sleep.

His breathing was light in slumber, almost imperceptible. Before turning in, his dark, long hair was always wound in soft silk cords across his chest to preserve the strands so a night’s rest would not leave them tangled.

Gazing at his wife’s exquisite face, Zhou Xiao drew him a fraction closer, letting Yuqing rest his head upon his arm. He folded the expectant mother entirely into his embrace, inhaling the scent of his hair and kissing his brow.

It felt as though none of it would ever be quite enough.

The following morning, Zhao Fu returned with the replies to the calling cards sent out yesterday. Out of twelve prominent merchant houses, ten had accepted.

The remaining two likely had no wish to wade further into Baizhou’s murky waters and were already preparing to relocate their businesses elsewhere.

A week later, at Xianxiang Restaurant.

By then, Yuqing would be seven months along. With the belly shifting visibly day by day, even a heavy cloak would scarcely conceal his figure.

Perhaps from catching a chill at the docks yesterday, he woke with a fever this morning.

Doctor Liu hurried in to take his pulse, pronouncing it an excess of internal heat brought on by anxious worry. During pregnancy, Yuqing had to tread with exceptional caution.

“He was perfectly fine yesterday,” Zhou Xiao said, immediately ordering a bowl of ginseng broth prepared.

Doctor Liu said, “The Madam’s constitution has always been frail. Whenever illness strikes, it tends to come on suddenly. Fortunately, the fever is mild; with the broth and proper rest, it should clear up without major incident.”

Yuqing could stomach bitter decoctions, but he took no pleasure in them. Even simmered into broth, wild mountain ginseng retained a heavy, medicinal stench.

Helped upright to take the tonic, his mind remained hazy. He vaguely recalled Zhou Xiao burrowing into his chest at dawn to nurse, remarking that things felt different from usual; once he pressed close, he realized Yuqing was burning hot to the touch.

Feeling the forehead showed little difference, and Doctor Liu noted that catching the fever at its very onset was a stroke of luck; had it developed into a full blaze, treating it would have been far trickier.

His head spinning, a spoonful of broth was brought to Yuqing’s lips. An astringent tang hit his palate first, followed by the bitter bite of herbs; it was stewed with Chinese yam and beef to replenish his vital essence, but the greasy richness turned his stomach at once.

“Mmph—” Yuqing shoved his hand away, threw back the quilt, and slipped straight out of bed.

Dressed in his inner robes, his movements were frantic, but his cumbersome frame could no longer support such haste. He nearly tumbled over, caught in the nick of time by Zhou Xiao. “Qingqing?!”

“Let go.” Shoving him aside, Yuqing cleared the folding screen in a few stumbling strides. Zhou Xiao hovered close behind, ready to catch him at a moment’s notice.

Spotting the washbasin, his legs gave out completely. Bracing against the basin, he heaved violently.

Zhou Xiao’s quick hands caught him, keeping him from collapsing to the floor.

Clutching the rim of the basin, the veins along Yuqing’s neck stood taut. His eyes, usually pooling with soft warmth, were laced with bloodshot veins. His slender fingers gripped the porcelain edge so hard that dark purple vessels seemed ready to burst through the pale skin of his knuckles.

Having eaten nothing, he brought up only bile. After several racking dry heaves, his face was left deathly pale.

Every trace of color had drained away, his fingertips trembling faintly from the strain.

“What is this…” Zhou Xiao had never witnessed such a scene.

He had heard of morning sickness during pregnancy, but Yuqing had only ever experienced mild nausea before; he had never seen such violent, racking agony.

“Has the Madam begun vomiting again recently?” Doctor Liu asked.

Bracing himself against Zhou Xiao, Yuqing could not stand for a long time. Zhou Xiao lifted him bodily and carried him back to the bed.

Rinsing his mouth, his throat felt raw. Yuqing cleared it with a rasp: “Mm… you could say that.”

“Couldn’t you detect this from the pulse just now?” Zhou Xiao demanded.

He had always been a man of stark absolutes: if Doctor Liu could keep Yuqing safe and sound, he would treat the man like an honored father, seeing him showered in silver for the rest of his days. But if the doctor dared deceive him and harm Yuqing, he would make sure Doctor Liu wished he were born far away in his next life, never to touch this wretched trade again.

“These matters of pregnancy cannot be divined by a simple pulse alone, Master! Have mercy!”

Zhou Xiao narrowed his eyes, about to haul the man outside for interrogation, when Yuqing’s voice cut through like salvation: “Zezhi…”

“Does it hurt somewhere?” Zhou Xiao immediately smoothed his expression, sitting meekly by the bedside. “Tell me.”

Yuqing shook his head; he had a fair idea of what had caused the distress.

“Is it because the child has grown larger?”

In the early months, morning sickness meant bringing up whatever one ate; on an empty stomach, the throat turned sour, but it never brought such wretched retching.

It had never been this agonizing. Yuqing’s face was still stark white, drained of color, almost as translucent as paper.

“Pr-precisely!”

The initial vomiting had stemmed from his body rejecting the foreign condition; being a man, he had forced the conception through ancient concoctions, and the early symptoms had been far fiercer than this, rejecting all food.

Zhou Xiao recalled how, when he returned from France the second time, Yuqing had indeed looked leaner than ever…

So he had endured so much hardship.

For the sake of this child, his body had undergone countless transformations.

And the child was approaching seven months.

A man’s abdominal cavity was inherently narrower; as the infant grew, feeling cramped, it moved with greater restlessness, kicking blindly within Yuqing’s belly. In the past, it pressed on his bladder, waking him through the night; now, the child rolled over in the cavity, kicking straight into his stomach, triggering that violent, wretched nausea.

It had nothing to do with Doctor Liu; it was simply the child tossing about inside.

“Has it been this agonizing from the start?” Zhou Xiao asked.

Seeing the self-reproach etched on his face, Yuqing rested a soft palm atop his head, gently rubbing his hair. “What is this? It’s nothing…”

“You’re so frightened your face has gone pale.” Ruan Yuqing stroked his head, then touched his cheek. “Carrying a child is always like this.”

Zhou Xiao fell uncharacteristically silent.

He stared intently at Yuqing for a long moment, then, ignoring the doctor standing by, dropped to his knees by the bedside. Wrapping both arms around Yuqing’s waist, he let out a soft sigh.

“Oh?” Yuqing pinched his nose. “I thought you were about to cry.”

Pressing his cheek against the swell of his belly, Zhou Xiao murmured, “What is there to cry about?”

Given his nature, the simplest and most efficient solution would naturally be to abort the child immediately.

Yet this child was growing inside Yuqing’s body, carrying the blood of both of them, and Yuqing harbored such deep hopes for him.

Unable to resolve the root of the problem, and unable to shoulder a fraction of Yuqing’s physical agony, weeping here to vex Yuqing was entirely pointless; it was far better to unearth ancient medical texts to keep the brat from running wild inside him.

Zhou Xiao had always cared only for results.

He could not bear to see him suffer, yet was powerless to stop it.

He could only press his cheek against Yuqing’s rounded abdomen, pleading with rare, hushed tenderness: “Don’t torment your mother, all right?”

“Did you hear that? Your father has spoken.” Yuqing looked down fondly, his long hair spilling over his shoulder, almost cloaking Zhou Xiao beneath it.

Zhou Xiao kissed his belly through the robe: “You’d best behave.”

Yuqing warned him not to frighten the child and pushed his head away.

They said whatever was spoken to the belly was heard clearly by the child within.

“I saw the replies outside; many merchants wish to meet you at Xianxiang Restaurant to deliberate.”

Yuqing suddenly recalled something: “By the way, why have you come back?”

“…I’ve been back for so long, and you only ask now? Am I not allowed to miss you?”

Yuqing knew he must have had official business to attend to, and refrained from prying: “Since you are here, go in my stead. It’s time you took an eye to the family’s affairs.”

Zhou Xiao waved a hand, dismissing the servants from the room.

Yuqing said, “The Baizhou mercantile circle is about to elect a new Chamber President. Most of the bosses who replied are dissatisfied with the new military garrison. Things have been turbulent in Baizhou lately, with bandits running rampant; Zhao Fu investigated outside and reported that lives have already been lost.”

If the bandits continued unchecked, they would not dare strike the local garrison, but would target the wealthy merchant houses first.

Adjutant Yuan’s deliberate indifference toward the bandits around Baizhou was meant to establish dominance. If the merchants refused to pay the garrison’s “resettlement levies,” the military would turn a blind eye to the bandits, leaving Baizhou in chaos. Without a protector, all talk of ports and trade would crumble to dust.

Even with armed guards, the merchants had few men at their disposal; bandits would burn, pillage, and slaughter without restraint.

The merchants leaned toward having Yuqing take over the Chamber of Commerce, hoping he could devise a solution.

“I am with child; I can no longer hide it…”

He was no longer fit to show his face in public.

Zhao Fu had always acted as his hands in domestic affairs, making appearances at the bank as well. Had Zhou Xiao not returned, Zhao Fu would have handled the negotiations in his stead.

In truth, Zhou Xiao had never planned on returning for business; he had simply missed Yuqing and wanted to see him—and, of course, keep an eye on Third Uncle.

“I promised you back then: the Zhou estate belongs to you. I will not meddle in these affairs.”

Yuqing caught his hand and held it gently: “Back then, there were grievances between us; it was not like it is now.”

He spoke with an amused smile, tapping a fingertip against Zhou Xiao’s nose.

Zhou Xiao was utterly enthralled by this gesture; at such moments, he felt entirely possessed by him, like Yuqing’s plaything, malleable to his whim.

Nudging Yuqing’s palm with his cheek, he asked, “What about now?”

“Now, you cry in front of me.” Yuqing was as gentle as a crane dipping its neck, resting his forehead lightly against the bridge of Zhou Xiao’s nose.

“The proud, haughty young master of my memory is actually just a child, isn’t he?” Cupping his face in both hands, Yuqing gave it a light shake.

Zhou Xiao let his head sway with his hands: “Where am I small?”

“Your heart,” Yuqing answered instantly.

“Tsk…”

“Haha.” Seeing that he was genuinely on the verge of irritation, Yuqing hastily leaned back, lest the man pounce on him.

“Zezhi, I speak in earnest.” Yuqing lay back down, and Zhou Xiao joined him.

“About what?” Zhou Xiao asked.

“Come home, will you?”

Puzzled, Zhou Xiao asked, “Why? You hold the Zhou family so dear; why would you want me to manage it in your stead? Merely because of the pregnancy? Once the child is born…”

“I only want you to promise me: if anything should go amiss, save the child, and then carry on the Zhou family in my stead. Will you?”

Yuqing’s tone was exceedingly calm, spoken in a few light words, yet it carried the weight of a dying wish.

The more the child stirred and ached within him, the clearer Yuqing, as the bearer, understood the grueling agony of labor that lay ahead.

Even women faced near death; how much worse for a man like him?

“What nonsense are you babbling? If you want me to go in your stead, I’ll go. Why speak like this? You’re always scolding me for talking wildly, so why are you…”

Before Zhou Xiao could finish, he caught the curving smile in Yuqing’s eyes.

Zhou Xiao had always boasted of disbelieving spirits and gods, yet now, he too knew to watch his tongue.

Zhou Xiao froze for a beat.

Without realizing it, he had been swallowed anew by this deep compound, layered with rules and superstitions. He cared nothing for spirits, but he desperately wanted Yuqing to remain safe.

“At any rate, do not say such things,” Zhou Xiao muttered.

“You used to fear ghosts the most,” Yuqing murmured.

Clasping his fingertips against his own chest, Zhou Xiao countered, “Just how much do you know about me?”

Yuqing searched his memory: “I read that diary over and over. Every time I entered the study, I would turn its pages, reading of your childhood grievances as you struggled to learn your characters. Back then, I didn’t know your face; I could only picture it in my mind…”

“Then when you finally met me, were you disappointed?”

Zhou Xiao had never asked him this!

“When you first laid eyes on me, did you find me pleasing? You praised me for looking like that old bastard back then; do I still look like him now? I’m far younger than him, far better…”

“The first time I saw you wasn’t on our wedding night.”

Zhou Xiao pressed, “Then where was it?”

Their time together had been painfully brief, spent mostly in different cities. Zhou Xiao bitterly regretted throwing himself into this railway business upon returning home; now, caught between a rock and a hard place, he had to see it through before he could return for good.

They had spent so little time side by side, yet it felt as though they had known each other for an eternity…

“It was the day before the wedding.”

Yuqing had used him as a tool, yet he understood Zhou Xiao intimately. Though he had never seen his face, he had read his diary, touched the clothes he once wore, slept in the bed he had once used, and lived alongside the father who loved him most.

Yuqing had lived like a shadow in this mansion for eight whole years.

And the name Zhou Xiao had followed him like another shadow, clinging to his heels.

Fresh from his studies abroad, Zhou Xiao had been full of youthful swagger. Assuming his father had taken another young concubine, he despised the practice, pacing the main hall with deliberate steps, sipping tea in an impeccably tailored suit and polished leather shoes—an undeniably modern, upright gentleman.

By then, Yuqing had already established an unshakeable position within the Zhou estate.

On the day Zhou Xiao returned, Yuqing had hidden behind the folding screen.

Through the screen, he had listened to his future husband’s words:

“Now that the First Madam is dead, he certainly has his way. Taking whatever little concubine he pleases—this Zhou family truly runs on his word.”

“I didn’t complete my studies abroad all these years just to watch petty squabbles in an inner courtyard. He claimed he was gravely ill; if I’ve returned to fulfill filial duties, fine. But if he tricked me back to inherit his estate, tell Father he can keep dreaming.”

Behind the mother-of-pearl screen, Yuqing had caught only the vague outline of the man’s back.

Though he had not seen his face, he had been stunned by his words.

He had spent eight years clawing his way through this mansion, even driving the First Madam to drown herself in the well. Yet the very prize he had fought so bitterly to secure was something Zhou Xiao discarded without a second thought…

Back then, Yuqing had been consumed by resentment and envy.

He desperately wanted to know what a man like Zhou Xiao truly desired, what could ever move his heart.

He had once believed money was the greatest thing in the world, capable of buying dignity, capable of buying everything.

If Zhou Xiao didn’t even care for wealth, what else could he possibly desire?

Yuqing had assumed he would be formidable and difficult to handle…

Yet in truth…

The seemingly prickly Zhou Xiao was the easiest of all to reel in with a simple crook of a finger.

Yuqing wanted wealth and the Zhou family; Zhou Xiao offered them up with both hands.

The old master had saved his life back then, and he had been willing to spend his entire life repaying that debt.

Zhou Xiao surrendered everything he had to him, including the entire Zhou estate.

Yuqing had always been one to return ten parts of kindness for every single part received.

So if Zhou Xiao wanted love, he was willing to give it.

The fierce, unguarded concern in Zhou Xiao’s eyes when he was retching just now—Yuqing had never seen such a gaze, not even from his father.

That ardent, raw, unmasked devotion…

It sent a profound shiver through Yuqing’s entire body.

Growing up, it felt as though no one had ever truly cared for him; even his father had merely kept him as a substitute…

Yet this man was Zhou Xiao.

“Zezhi…” Yuqing leaned in of his own accord to kiss his brow, gently wrapping his arms around his head. “My Zezhi…”

Coming from his lips, those words were the most intoxicating nectar in the world.

Zhou Xiao returned the kiss in a daze, propping himself up on an elbow so as not to press against the swollen abdomen. “I am yours…”

He was about to bear a child; Yuqing was a mother.

And when a mother declared that he belonged to him…

He was the mother’s; the mother wanted to possess him, didn’t he?

He was no longer a motherless child.