TAMW CH30

The late nights in the Zhou residence had been steeped in silence for many years.

With early winter setting in, the paper lanterns hanging along the corridors turned brittle from the frost, clattering against the eaves in the biting wind as though their inner candlelight might burst into open flame at any moment.

Yuqing’s slender neck rested against the wooden pillow, arched back at a soft, vulnerable angle. His chin was tilted up, and what met his eyes was not the canopy of the bed, but the headboard behind him…

Unable to face it, he shielded his eyes with his forearm. The soles of his feet tickled fiercely. Zhou Xiao’s tongue was pressed flush against his skin, his lips parting to take the toes entirely into his mouth.

In the midst of his feeble struggling, the overlapping panels of his nightshirt slipped apart on both sides.

Yuqing tried to peer down, but lifting his head slightly revealed only the gentle curve of his pregnant belly, along with his own feet held together beneath Zhou Xiao’s nose.

The man’s entire face was buried in the arches of his soles, his tall bridge nuzzling deeply into the tender flesh.

Yuqing possessed a well-proportioned bone structure—neither too large nor too small, his feet slender and graceful, tapering to delicate ankles that would have looked exquisite bound with a red cord.

Never in his life had he been treated like this.

Feet were meant for walking on the dirt. What was there to kiss? What was there to smell?

Yuqing had no idea how intoxicating his personal scent truly was.

Within this deep, four-cornered mansion where the air was suffocating with mold and decay, his clean, pure fragrance of jasmine was like a fissure in stagnant water, ushering in fresh, violent ripples.

Zhou Xiao lifted Yuqing’s calves, holding both soles suspended together in mid-air as he buried his face deep between them. At first, he merely rubbed and nudged with the tip of his nose, but before long, Yuqing distinctly felt a soft, wet tongue taking over to trace the curves of his skin.

From the hollow of his arch to the tender spaces between his toes.

Yuqing suffered from a chronic cold constitution, remaining chilly even through pregnancy—an ailment carried from childhood that had never improved.

It was not an overtly forbidden act, yet Yuqing felt it set his heart racing far more violently than anything genuinely debauched.

Zhou Xiao… what in the world had he studied in France?

He licked away the cream with relish, as though stepping in it earlier had been carefully calculated all along. It could have been wiped clean with a handkerchief, yet Zhou Xiao insisted on…

A slick, wet warmth lingered between his toes, though whether it was melted cream or something else entirely was impossible to tell.

Lying back upon the mattress, Yuqing could only feel relieved that the lighting was sufficiently dim; otherwise, he wouldn’t know how to endure this humiliation.

His vision blurred into confusion, his ears filled with the wet, unhurried sounds of the man’s mouth.

Was Zhou Xiao treating him like a meal?

Had he never tasted cream before?

He had barely stepped in any. Just how long did the man intend to breathe him in?

Shame and indignation prickled through Yuqing’s chest. He was rarely one to lose his temper, but he couldn’t help using a fraction of strength to press his sole firmly against Zhou Xiao’s cheek, his voice coming out raspy: “Are you quite finished?”

Zhou Xiao’s gaze was glazed and dazed.

His nose had a high, straight bridge, having inherited the deep, handsome facial structure of typical northern men from Zhou Yuzhang—well-defined features built over broad, solid bone. Being kicked right there sent an instant ache through his nasal bone, making his eyes tear up with flashes of light.

Having taken a kick to the face, Zhou Xiao didn’t cry out in pain; he merely let out a muffled grunt and finally loosened his grip.

The moment he let go, Yuqing’s calves lost their support and dropped down, resting heavily across the thighs of the kneeling man. This posture was entirely too…

Zhou Xiao’s body went rigid. He hadn’t expected himself to let go so suddenly.

Quickly leaning over him, he asked, “Did that hurt when you dropped?”

“No,” Yuqing said. “It’s clean now. Go to sleep.”

“Sleep?” Zhou Xiao’s expression brimmed with reluctance. “I haven’t even serviced you yet.”

“What do you need to service?” Yuqing felt a throbbing headache coming on.

Just having Zhou Xiao suck on the hollow of his foot had left his insides humming with an unsettling itch; if this continued, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

Back then, he had indeed taken the initiative to sleep with Zhou Xiao twice solely to conceive a child.

Yet those two encounters had been rather unremarkable.

Zhou Xiao constantly bragged about his formidable endowment, and he wasn’t lying. Yuqing was a man himself, but his own build was ordinary and healthy. He had only ever experienced Zhou Xiao, and by comparison, whether due to youth or sheer genetics, the young master was indeed blessed in size—though any other gifts had been impossible to discern.

Zhou Xiao had so many tricks just kissing the top of his foot; Yuqing truly didn’t want any excessive intimacy right now.

His abdomen was unwieldy, and he was terrified of startling the child.

Yuqing had never indulged in such wayward desires. Life was meant to be quiet, filled with endless affairs to manage.

Yet having Zhou Xiao kiss and pet him like this felt like chipping a crack into an otherwise pristine, well-ordered porcelain cup, followed by scalding water being poured straight inside…

Yuqing couldn’t tell whether it was a bodily craving brought on by pregnancy, or whether he genuinely desired it himself.

While he was still hesitating and trying to practice restraint, Zhou Xiao had already beaten him to the punch.

“Zhou Xiao—!”

Zhou Xiao buried his face straight between Yuqing’s thighs, utterly intoxicated, as though sinking into a private world known only to himself, murmuring softly, “Madam…”

To him, Yuqing was like a fruit.

When they first met, the fruit was red, but a bite revealed only bitter astringency. Every time he recalled it, there was a puckering tartness that left his heart aching; yet on the tongues of others, this was an immortal peach rarely seen in ten thousand years. Now that he had returned to taste it again, the fruit had grown luscious and ripe, shedding its poisoned exterior to reveal pure sweetness beneath the peel.

And so fragrant.

Even the skin carried such a scent. Why was his Madam’s flesh steeped in such an aroma…?

It left him utterly entranced, unwilling to leave his embrace for even a second.

Zhou Xiao truly couldn’t bear the intensity of these feelings. He almost hated himself for letting his petty pride keep him away from Yuqing for so long.

A full five months!

The time they had spent apart had been far too long.

Zhou Xiao could barely resist Yuqing’s body, wishing he could crawl entirely into his lap. Burying himself deep against Yuqing, he couldn’t help calling out with giddy delight, “Madam.”

What a lovely title.

Mrs. Zhou. The master of the Zhou family.

Zhou Xiao was ecstatic, wanting nothing more than to wag his tail while attending to Yuqing. He even wanted to light the lamps to take a proper look at Yuqing’s body.

Only the older generation kept the lamps burning; Westerners snuffed the candles and used animal bladders for protection. The older generation was lecherous, fond of lighting tallow tapers to scrutinize their wives’ flesh. Zhou Xiao had once thought such customs were vulgar in the extreme, but reflecting on it now, he felt progress meant discarding the dross and preserving the essence.

Lighting a lamp to get a clear view was an excellent tradition. Finding it vulgar back then was merely his own youthful ignorance.

Men always grew up; people always changed.

Yuqing couldn’t see what he was doing at all, his downward gaze blocked entirely by his swollen belly.

His legs were parted as though in labor—what a tormenting night…

“Master.” Early the next morning, Deng Yongquan was already waiting dutifully outside the bedchamber doors.

His father, Butler Deng, was getting on in years.

According to the customs of loyal retainers, he ought to have followed the old master to the grave, but Yuqing had soothed him, saying the household still needed a trusted elder to keep things in order. Only then did Butler Deng abandon the thought of ending his life, continuing to oversee the estate’s daily affairs.

Now that Deng Yongquan had returned with Zhou Xiao, eager to show filial piety, he rose early to take over his father’s duties and wait outside the master’s door. Their family had served as single-line stewards to the Zhou clan for generations, stretching back through uncounted years.

Zhou Xiao stepped out, his face glowing with vitality. “Is breakfast prepared?”

Deng Yongquan: “All set.”

“Mhm. Have the police come knocking?” Zhou Xiao tucked one hand into his trouser pocket, casually stepping down the stone stairs to inspect the morning spread.

“No, sir. They couldn’t trace anything. The gun was smuggled without registration. The Second Master, however, spent the entire night locked up in the precinct. Should we spend some money to grease the wheels?”

The firearms had been brought over from France, every piece top-of-the-line—a single pistol costing more than three domestic models combined. The ammunition was equally rare, leaving the police with no lead on where it originated.

Even if the child confessed that Zhou Xiao had handed him the weapon, who would take a young boy’s words seriously? A child could never provide a valid deposition, especially one who had fired a gun at someone. Instead, with Zhou Min dead and the Second Master bringing his mistress’s boy into the house, bad blood had simmered between him and the Ruan family for months; the motive for a grudge lay squarely on him.

Add to that the blazing inferno from the night before, which had reduced the Ruan mansion to near-ruins. With so many guests and alcohol fueling the blaze, who could prove it was arson?

Zhou Xiao was in high spirits. Strolling leisurely into the dining hall to inspect the dishes, he ordered a servant to bring a tray, intending to hand-select the most appetizing bites to carry back and feed Yuqing in bed.

Catering to him like this, Zhou Xiao mused, would soon spoil Yuqing into relying on him so thoroughly that he wouldn’t even be used to eating unless Zhou Xiao held the spoon.

Concocting such a sweet scheme first thing in the morning made Zhou Xiao’s mood soar. “Hurry, send someone to bail my Second Uncle out immediately. What about Ruan Hongtian? Did they pull him through?”

“Word is he survived,” Deng Yongquan said. “It’s printed in the morning papers.”

“Oh?” Zhou Xiao held out his hand, and Deng Yongquan hastily presented the newspaper.

Across the front page ran the headline detailing Boss Ruan’s mysterious shooting and his current stable condition.

“Good that he lived. He still owes me eighty million American dollars; if he died, the contract would be void and the money impossible to collect. Have Second Uncle hurry back and ask when the funds will clear. Mind you, emphasize that I was deeply worried for his safety. Understood?”

“Understood.” Deng Yongquan pulled a check from his breast pocket and dispatched men to secure the release.

The Ruan family had deep connections in the police department, and since Zhou Yulin was an in-law, he wouldn’t suffer behind bars. It was simply that the Ruans were currently consumed with Ruan Hongtian’s condition and had no time to spare for him. Zhou Xiao stepping in to offer a favor at this juncture was perfectly timed.

His good Second Uncle was a literal God of Wealth; until he had been bled completely dry, he was forbidden from dying.

Zhou Xiao merrily selected delicacies in the dining hall.

Yuqing had not yet awakened.

It had been a very long time since he felt this exhausted.

Yet this exhaustion was not a heavy fatigue; it felt remarkably soothing.

When Yuqing blinked awake, the child in his womb was stirring restlessly. Zhou Xiao was just directing a servant to set down the breakfast tray. Seeing Yuqing awake with a dark expression, he asked, “What is it?”

“What do you think?” Yuqing allowed himself to be helped up, his limbs languid and heavy. Zhou Xiao propped a soft cushion behind his back.

Perhaps because Zhou Xiao had gone abroad as a boy to fend for himself, he wasn’t accustomed to being waited on hand and foot. Instead, he preferred fetching his own meals, eating briskly and with immense relish, looking for all the world as though Yuqing had been starving him.

“Have Doctor Liu come in to examine you.”

Yuqing had no idea that Doctor Liu had already taken up residence in the compound.

Zhou Xiao explained, “His clinic was struggling anyway, and the eastern suburbs are far from the Zhou estate. If something happens to you, summoning him would take too long. I paid him extra to stay here until you deliver. It solves his livelihood and keeps you safe.”

Yuqing beckoned to him, and Zhou Xiao lowered his head obediently. Yuqing praised him, “You handled this matter with great care. You have a good heart.”

Having his earlobe gently squeezed, Zhou Xiao felt thoroughly pleased with himself. “Naturally.”

Yuqing reflected that Zhou Xiao was far more reliable in major affairs than he had anticipated. In the past, he had wanted Doctor Liu to stay in the compound as well, but the old physician had made excuses about caring for his family, insisting he couldn’t leave them. Yet with Zhou Xiao handling it, the man had moved right in.

Of course he had.

Previously, Doctor Liu had feared getting dragged into trouble if anything went wrong with Yuqing’s unusual condition, which was why he never dared stay. Now, however, if he dared sneak off, Master Zhou would threaten to slaughter his entire lineage; he wouldn’t dare run even if given wings.

Bright and early, Deng Yongquan hauled the physician in by the collar to take the Madam’s pulse.

The pulse was steady, showing no alarming fluctuations.

An increase in physical desire during pregnancy was entirely normal; as long as it wasn’t taken to excess, it wouldn’t harm the body, but would rather ease the mind.

Doctor Liu possessed genuine medical skill; a single reading told him Yuqing’s kidney qi had shifted overnight. Taking the pulse with trembling fingers, he caught Zhou Xiao beaming at him out of the corner of his eye and panicked: Could the reading displease this young master?

Doctor Liu hastily hunched his back to guard against a sudden blow, stammering, “In truth, as long as care is taken, intimacy is permissible. Furthermore, the Madam is male, with unique birth passages; moderate intimacy will actually ease labor later on. It is entirely fine. If the Madam is concerned about exhausting his vital essence, he may…”

Cough, cough… Hearing this, Yuqing nearly lost his grip on his teacup.

“You!” Zhou Xiao shot to his feet in mock outrage.

Doctor Liu cowered instantly, nearly clasping his head, breaking out in cold sweat.

Zhou Xiao smoothly stepped forward to help him up with an angelic smile. “Speak these things directly to me in the future. Don’t go startling the Madam.”

Doctor Liu: “…”

Yuqing waved a hand, signaling him to withdraw.

Released by Zhou Xiao, Doctor Liu scuttled out as fast as his legs could carry him, terrified of tripping any hidden wires.

Once outside, Zhou Xiao even instructed the butler with a pleasant grin to reward him with silver.

Doctor Liu sighed inwardly: This money is truly earned with one’s life. When first brought in, he had tried to flee, only to be intercepted by Deng Yongquan before reaching the gates. He had received a thorough beating and a warning that his legs would be broken if he tried again. His only recourse was to redouble his efforts on medicinal broths, brewing calming, irritability-reducing soups for Master Zhou every day. Whether the tonic had taken effect or not, the master had indeed become considerably milder.

It seemed to be working…

Unaware that the physician had been thoroughly disciplined into compliance, Yuqing massaged his temples in resignation.

His mind inevitably drifted back to the image of Zhou Xiao crawling beneath his thighs the previous night, nipping and kissing relentlessly.

Having never attended to anyone before, Zhou Xiao was terrified of causing discomfort, constantly checking in.

With his cheeks puffed out, he had asked, “Does this feel good?”

Or kissing his eyelids, asking, “What about like this?”

“Madam, you and I should be completely honest with each other. Without me, could anyone else ever wait on you like this?”

“If you don’t treat yourself as an object, you must learn to order people about. What happens between husband and wife stays between us; having grown up in a grand household, you know these things better than I do. You have to teach me.”

Zhou Xiao had left him entirely speechless.

The man had studied abroad, after all; his endless barrage of questions was impossible to manage.

And impossible to answer.

It wasn’t that Yuqing was shy; rather, in his experience, such matters were meant to be conducted in utter silence. The old ways were always discreet; who ever went around asking endless questions?

Yet at this moment, Yuqing genuinely believed Zhou Xiao was doing it for his sake.

Last night, after waiting on him, Zhou Xiao had supported him to use the chamber pot, then brought him a fresh, clean undergarment to change into. He hadn’t demanded anything in return—no trading of favors, none of the reckless badgering Yuqing had dreaded.

At times… Zhou Xiao was quite sensible.

He had gotten fluids all over his face, yet hadn’t shown an ounce of temper, attending to him with such devotion despite being a proud young master…

Yuqing’s eyelids fluttered softly. He said in a low voice, “If there is ever anything you find disagreeable, you may tell me as well.”

Zhou Xiao thought about it and said there was nothing.

Although Yuqing appeared seasoned in worldly matters, when it came to intimacy, he was just as inexperienced as Zhou Xiao himself. When nervous, his thighs would clamp down tightly around Zhou Xiao’s head.

Yuqing lacked excess flesh, his frame light and his calves slender; yet because he rarely walked, his thighs were remarkably soft. When he tensed, the underlying muscle pulled tight, the smooth, supple warmth of his skin making it impossible to let go.

After breakfast, Yuqing prepared to check the ledgers in the front hall as usual.

Lately, Qingming Bank’s cash flow had been declining, and he intended to launch a new deposit product to draw in funds. The reason Qingming Bank offered higher interest rates than other private banks was solely that it temporarily controlled the port, channeling maritime profits directly into its reserves. Using public deposits as startup capital, then sending cargo out by sea to sell back to the citizens of Baizhou—turning money into more money through compounding interest—was the underlying logic of the bank.

The sunlight was pleasant today. With Zhou Xiao set to collect the funds and return to Shencheng in a few days, he kept Yuqing company in the front hall, watching him review the books.

Yuqing’s calligraphy was identical to the old master’s—neat, square, and strictly traditional.

“When you return to Shencheng, could you handle an errand for me?” Yuqing asked.

Zhou Xiao set the ledger aside. “Name it.”

“Jiang Sui is fighting in the neighboring province right beside Shencheng. Inquire about him for me. If the rumors of his death are true, send word back to me.”

Zhou Xiao took a sip of water, feigning indifference. “What, are you planning to collect his corpse?”

“Mhm.” Yuqing kept his head lowered, writing in the ledger.

Zhou Xiao asked, “When did you two meet? Why haven’t I heard you mention him before?”

Yuqing disliked speaking of such matters, fearing it would only invite trouble. He had always found Zhou Xiao’s temperament hard to predict, still unable to fully read the man.

Erratic, yet occasionally remarkably obedient.

“Earlier than you,” Yuqing murmured softly, then added after a beat, “Merely good friends.”

Good friends…

The phrase immediately trailing that was always ‘kindred spirits.’

Zhou Xiao scoffed coldly under his breath just as Deng Yongquan arrived with news from the police station.

Zhou Xiao rose to return to his quarters. Before Deng Yongquan could speak, he demanded, “Have you ever seen Jiang Sui?”

Deng Yongquan shook his head like a rattle drum. Just as he opened his mouth, Zhou Xiao sneered, “What kind of decrepit old fossil could he be, that Yuqing keeps fretting over him!”

Section Chief Jiang was an oily, fat-faced slob; Jiang Sui was his brother, so he had to be just as hideous! Otherwise, with all this talk of ‘good friends’ and ‘kindred spirits,’ Yuqing would have taken him long ago!

Hmph.

Deng Yongquan reported that the Second Master would be released tomorrow.

Zhou Xiao couldn’t care less about that fool. Thinking it over, he decided to question Butler Deng instead. But on his way over, he passed the side courtyard where he and Yuqing had spent their wedding night. A few freshly washed garments were hanging out to dry. He pointed. “Who lives in there?”

“Zhao Fu,” Deng Yongquan replied. “When he stayed in the side courtyard with the Madam, he occupied the servant’s quarters here.”

Zhou Xiao: “Have your father come see me.”

Deng Yongquan nodded, turning to fetch his father.

In the Zhou residence, servants lived in the rear quarters, several sharing a single room. Only chief stewards like Butler Deng were granted private quarters. Butler Deng also managed the staff, so he lived adjacent to the servants’ wing. A servant like Zhao Fu living in his master’s private courtyard was virtually unheard of. Yuqing certainly treated him well.

Zhou Xiao sneered, stepping into the courtyard.

The place had stood vacant ever since Yuqing moved into the main quarters. Yuqing had originally kept it ready for Zhou Xiao’s future visits home. The layout remained untouched—a traditional four-sided courtyard, the central hall meant for receiving guests and serving tea, flanked by their bridal chamber on one side and Zhao Fu’s servant quarters on the other.

Four words sprang unbidden into Zhou Xiao’s mind: a vantage point close to water.

On the clothesline hung several starched, freshly washed gowns. Several looked familiar—all items Zhou Xiao had worn. Yuqing hadn’t even touched them, yet Zhao Fu had already washed and dried them all.

Loyal servants were easy to come by in a wealthy estate, but one this attentive and meticulous was rare indeed.

Zhou Xiao’s mood plummeted, turning as volatile as shifting weather—sunny, raining, overcast, and threatening hail all at once, driven entirely by Yuqing.

During the eight years he had spent overseas, Yuqing had held the Zhou family together alone.

Beside him stood Zhao Fu, and beyond him was the unseen Jiang Sui, with who knew how many other stray dogs lurking about outside, each bolder than the last.

Yuqing had even refused to tell him about Jiang Sui, deliberately dodging the topic moments ago.

Zhao Fu was a domestic slave, but what about Jiang Sui? A military general. Even if he died, so what? He deserved to die!

Every man and woman who shared a history with his wife deserved to die.

His eight-year absence had allowed these people to carve out a place in Yuqing’s heart.

Zhou Xiao had originally intended to ask Zhao Fu which of the two—himself or Jiang Sui—was better-looking. But the moment he pushed open the door to Zhao Fu’s room, all such thoughts vanished.

For a servant’s quarters, the room was remarkably clean and tidy. Stepping inside…

Ha.

A silk-brocade quilt! He sure knew how to enjoy himself!

The quilt showed its age, but had been meticulously preserved, clearly handled with utmost reverence. Embroidered across the surface were delicate jasmine blossoms. Needless to say, only a master could own a silk quilt in the Zhou residence.

This was a discarded quilt Yuqing no longer used, yet this filthy servant had dared take it back to hoard in secret.

What a thieving slave. He deserved to die.

Zhou Xiao flicked his wrist, tossing the quilt onto the floor, kicking the pillow aside with it.

Glancing around the room, he saw calligraphy pasted on the wall—Yuqing’s handwriting.

The teacup on the table was Ru-ware porcelain—all cast-off items from his master!

Suddenly, his eyes landed on a dressing table tucked into the corner of Zhao Fu’s room.

Such an item belonged strictly in Yuqing’s quarters.

Yuqing wore his hair long; he used hairpins and sat before a mirror to comb his hair daily. Zhao Fu used to dress his hair for him, which explained the assortment of combs on the table—wooden, jade, traditional, and Western, fully stocked.

A three-tiered wooden vanity box rested atop the dressing table.

The first drawer held discarded hairpins that had clearly seen long use. Zhao Fu wore short hair and had abandoned the traditional topknot long ago; hair that short had no use for hairpins.

The second drawer held mint oil and dried jasmine petals.

The corners of Zhou Xiao’s mouth twitched, his eyelids fluttering with a dangerous tremor. Gritting his teeth, he yanked open the third drawer.

“Ha.” A dry, hollow chuckle escaped his throat.

Hahahahaha—

Hahahahaha—!

Damned dog. He truly deserved to be hacked into ten thousand pieces!

With a violent crash, Deng Yongquan arrived with his father, only to hear the frantic smashing of furniture before they could even cross the threshold.

Zhou Xiao sneered, seizing a heavy wooden chair and battering the dressing table into splinters.

Now he finally understood why the First Madam had systematically slaughtered those concubines back then.

Those concubines had done nothing out of line; in fact, they were pleasant, diligent, and deeply respectful toward the First Madam. Why had she been utterly unable to tolerate their existence?

Why had she insisted on executing those pitiable women?

As a boy, Zhou Xiao had never understood. Now, he understood all too well—in fact, he wondered whether that woman’s methods hadn’t been ruthless enough.

She had actually allowed the old man to keep concubines in the first place!

Zhao Fu. What a magnificent Zhao Fu!

Zhou Xiao tore through Zhao Fu’s room like a madman, smashing everything into debris. When Deng Yongquan rushed inside, the man stood with his back to them, lighting a cigarette, his voice unnervingly calm: “Go. Bring Zhao Fu here.”

Before Deng Yongquan could process the command, Zhou Xiao hurled a small box from the wreckage.

The wooden casket shattered against the flagstones.

From within, a shower of small objects spilled across the floor, rolling in every direction.

Tiny, thoroughly picked clean of every scrap of fruit flesh.

Date pits.