TAMW CH31

The grooves of every single date pit had already been worn smooth, polished to a fine, glossy luster.

They were all pits that Zhao Fu had caught personally from his master’s hand.

Zhou Xiao’s peripheral vision swept over the servant’s quarters, while his gaze fixed dead on the scattered pits on the floor.

Custom dictated that masters did not easily set foot in the servants’ rooms. No one cared where a domestic lived, nor what kind of trinkets he kept. No one knew when Zhao Fu had begun hoarding these things—months ago? Years ago?

Zhou Xiao did not know, and he had no interest in dissecting the inner workings of a dog of a slave who harbored illicit designs on his master.

With an expressionless face, he paced through the wrecked room, entirely indifferent to the fact that this northern wing saw no sun year-round—bleak, damp, and bone-chillingly cold.

Hahahahahaha—

Hahahahahaha—!

How Zhou Xiao burned with hatred.

In his youth, he had been so terrified of the First Madam, viewing her as someone ruthless and venomous beyond human reason. Yet times had changed. Now that he truly possessed a wife coveted by everyone around him, the only words left in Zhou Xiao’s heart were: far too merciful.

The First Madam had actually allowed Zhou Yuzhang to take concubines into the household. The Zhou family was fortunate to have only one heir in his bloodline; otherwise, it might not even have been his turn to wait on Ruan Yuqing!

And this Zhao Fu—fortunate indeed that he was merely a stray bastard.

Zhou Xiao genuinely wanted to laugh: mocking Zhao Fu’s unrequited longing, yet rejoicing in his own effortless possession. Every last one of them was a lowly wretch. Yuqing had done nothing at all, yet they all grew the guts of a leopard, crowning themselves emperors and dreaming of ascending to heaven.

It was utterly laughable.

It would be best if they all dropped dead.

In any case, he would wait on Yuqing hand and foot from now on—dressing him, feeding him, bearing children, and sharing a bed. Had Zhou Xiao not excelled at everything since childhood? It was precisely because he learned quickly and well that the First Madam had found that sharpness tolerable enough to keep him around. He was exceptional in every regard, flawless from head to toe; why would Yuqing ever need another servant in the future?

Deng Yongquan dragged the man in, forcing Zhao Fu to stumble and kneel onto the flagstones.

The moment he saw the scattered date pits, Zhao Fu understood why the Eldest Young Master had summoned him.

Zhao Fu remained on his knees, head hung low. As a domestic slave, his food, clothing, and upkeep were entirely arranged by his masters. His everyday clothes were of coarse homespun, with a single Western suit tucked away in the wardrobe to ensure he wouldn’t disgrace Yuqing when running errands outside—a courtesy that was already a profound grace from his master.

Before the family branch had split, Zhao Fu had worked in Zhou Yulin’s wing; it was Yuqing who had specifically selected him to serve. His features bore a faint resemblance to the Sixth Concubine—plain and ordinary, though those phoenix eyes held a man’s proud, stubborn backbone.

His frame was rather broad, with the pronounced muscle of a laborer stretching against the rough fabric. Even kneeling in the courtyard, he maintained an unyielding posture, neither servile nor haughty.

A dog of a slave who had never read a book—who was he putting on this unyielding display for? Or did he think years of waiting on Yuqing made his position unshakeable?

Zhou Xiao’s leather shoes circled him in a slow, deliberate pace.

Zhao Fu knelt rigidly in the courtyard, eyes downcast.

Without a word of interrogation, Zhou Xiao raised his hand and cracked a backhand across his face, then hauled Zhao Fu up by his collar, asking with a sweet smile, “How long have you served the Madam?”

The force behind Zhou Xiao’s hand was no joke; a single strike was enough to leave a man’s head ringing, stunned for a long time.

Zhao Fu said, “Five years.”

Zhou Xiao released him, nodding. “I recall you are a year younger than me.”

A year younger than himself, no less.

He squatted down, picking up a few of the scattered date pits from the dirt, his fingertips grinding against the worn, flattened ridges. With a cold sneer, he murmured, “No wonder you were so eager to catch his pits like a lapdog. You caught them all the way back to your own quarters, didn’t you?”

“Hoarding your master’s castoffs is theft.”

“Using your master’s things in secret is embezzlement.”

Zhou Xiao tossed the date pits into Zhao Fu’s face, tucking one hand into his pocket as he asked, “When a household servant bites the hand that feeds him, what does the rulebook say?”

Deng Yongquan answered dutifully, “A forfeiture of six months’ wages to settle the debt.”

Zhou Xiao paused, his brows knitting slightly. “That simple?”

Deng Yongquan: “…”

“That won’t do.” Zhou Xiao suppressed the irritation in his chest. “You have served at the Madam’s side for years. Stealing so many things—six months’ wages is hardly enough. Still…”

“The Madam is carrying a child; it is improper to spill blood on the estate. How about this: I shall grant you a kindness. I will tear up your contract of indenture and dismiss you from the mansion. What do you say?”

Zhao Fu said, “I obey only the Madam.”

The implication was clear: Zhou Xiao’s words carried no weight in the Zhou household.

Zhou Xiao leaned down, murmuring, “Do you intend to let him find out about these filthy things? If he learns that the servant attending him daily has been hoarding these date pits… how do you think he will feel?”

Deng Yongquan carefully stole a glance at the bits scattered across the floor, every one resembling small pieces of wood. How had the Young Master deduced they were date pits?

“You do not carry a drop of Zhou blood…” Zhou Xiao whispered with chilling venom. “He will only feel disgusted, finding you utterly repulsive.”

Zhao Fu’s eyelashes flickered slightly.

Zhou Xiao caught that flicker of hesitation with pinpoint accuracy.

“I am not someone who cannot tolerate others. Besides, in your years of serving the Madam, you have performed bitter labor, even if without great merit. Although I am his husband, I have not attended to him as long or as thoroughly as you have…”

Zhou Xiao paused. Straightening up, he flicked open his lighter and set fire to the silk-brocade quilt tossed in the courtyard. “In the future, I may even need to consult you on many household matters.”

“It’s just that having the Madam’s possessions inside your room violates the rules. And he values the rules above all else.”

Hesitation surfaced in Zhao Fu’s eyes, swayed by Zhou Xiao’s words. “The Master speaks the truth.”

Zhou Xiao said, “I see your loyalty. You are a good servant. Do you still wish to remain by the Madam’s side?”

Zhao Fu nodded; naturally, he did.

Zhou Xiao considered himself exceptionally magnanimous. He thought to himself that he was far more tolerant than the First Madam had ever been, without that petty narrow-mindedness. Back then, wasn’t it because the First Madam pushed the old man too hard that she drove him further and further away?

Being furious in his heart was one thing, but truly having Zhao Fu drowned—the boy had grown up in the Zhou residence, after all; Zhou Xiao could not bring himself to commit such an atrocity.

In exceptionally fine spirits, Zhou Xiao ordered Deng Yongquan to bring a pair of brass shears.

“Sever your own root, and even if you stand vigil lighting candles by the bed for me and the Madam, I shall permit it,” Zhou Xiao patted his shoulder, his tone steeped in dark meaning. “Otherwise, tomorrow I will make you vanish from Baizhou entirely.”

A pair of sharp shears was tossed with a dull clatter right in front of Zhao Fu.

“Since you are so loyal and harbor no improper desires toward the Madam, why not prove it? The Madam and I are husband and wife, of one flesh; in the future, I will naturally treat you as a trusted confidant.”

Deng Yongquan’s heart trembled as he stared at the shears. The former dynasty had fallen so long ago; there were hardly any living eunuchs left in the world. And yet their Zhou family was about to add one.

Zhou Xiao spoke without a hint of shame, genuinely believing his scheme was brilliant.

What a farce. The First Madam had been an uneducated, uncultured fool who only knew how to vie for jealousy; he was nothing like her. The waves behind drove the waves ahead; the pupil surpassed the master. Some people were fit for death; others were fit for a broken spirit.

Having accompanied Yuqing for five years, even a dog would inspire affection. A soft-hearted person like Yuqing would never bear to drive Zhao Fu away; as his husband, it fell to Zhou Xiao to shoulder the burden.

The commotion in the side courtyard—shattering furniture and burning quilts—was too loud, carrying all the way to the main courtyard where Yuqing heard it.

Supporting his abdomen, he made his way over with a servant’s assistance.

“What happened here?” Yuqing asked.

“Nothing,” Zhou Xiao took over, supporting Yuqing’s arm. “Just a few trivial matters. Knowing you were reviewing ledgers in the front hall, I thought I could handle it myself without troubling you.”

“Do you blame me for managing the household in your stead?” Zhou Xiao’s tone took on a faint touch of pitifulness.

Yuqing smiled helplessly. “Are you not already Master Zhou across the entire estate? There is nothing wrong with you managing the house. Many chores were handled by Butler Deng; he is advanced in years and works very hard.”

Yuqing’s energy had never been robust, and his pregnancy made him drowsy, leaving him with even fewer waking hours. Most of his focus went toward the bank; after discharging a portion of the servants, daily household matters were minimal.

“I was only worried you would be displeased,” Zhou Xiao said.

Yuqing tilted his head, regarding him with slight curiosity, finding the man unusually well-behaved today. When Yuqing reached out, Zhou Xiao leaned his cheek straight into his hand. “This is your home too. Why would I be displeased by you overseeing it?”

“Besides, you handle matters far more steadily than I imagined,” Yuqing said in a tender voice. “I am very at ease.”

Zhou Xiao guided him carefully: “Mind the threshold.”

Entering the bedchamber, Yuqing was indeed exhausted. With a discreet gesture from Zhou Xiao, Deng Yongquan ushered the remaining servants far from the room. The door clicked shut, and Zhou Xiao happily set about rummaging through the wardrobe for a fresh change of inner robes.

“I must leave for Shencheng in a few days.”

Supporting his abdomen, Yuqing sat on the bed, leaning slowly against the bolster, letting out a soft mhm. “The new section chief has taken office in Shencheng, hasn’t he? Two have already died; you must still be cautious in your dealings. The railway is an affair of great import for the country and the people. You have grand ambitions, but you must look after your health. You only have Deng Yongquan by your side, after all.”

“When you returned from France last time, you seemed to have lost weight.” Yuqing closed his eyes, murmuring his instructions in an unhurried cadence.

Zhou Xiao was younger than him, after all. From what had transpired at the Ruan mansion the other night, one could see he acted with a touch of recklessness. He had simply avoided leaving any evidence this time, so Yuqing could not help but nag him a little more. Otherwise, if something truly happened to Zhou Xiao, he wouldn’t know how to account to his adoptive father in the underworld.

“Zhezhi, you have studied much, but you are still young. Conducting affairs domestically is very different from abroad. Being out on your own…”

Yuqing’s voice remained soft and soothing, like spring water and silk.

Separated by the mother-of-pearl screen, Zhou Xiao’s face remained buried in Yuqing’s wardrobe—a habit he had grown particularly fond of lately. He could not startle Yuqing during his pregnancy, yet as a young, robust man who had tasted sweetness but was forbidden to indulge, his heart itched terribly. He could only plunge his face into Yuqing’s robes, inhaling deeply, stirring the garments with his hands…

Though the silk was cool and the robes slightly coarse compared to delicate flesh, they were all steeped in his wife’s intoxicating fragrance. Listening to Yuqing’s voice and breathing in his garments—it was pure bliss.

With his lower back aching, Yuqing rested with his eyes closed.

Sensing that Zhou Xiao had returned after a brief absence, the man knelt beside him, placing the garments by the edge of the mattress and gently leaning his head against Yuqing.

Instinctively stroking his hair, Yuqing asked gently, “What is it?”

Zhou Xiao unconsciously pressed his cheek against Yuqing’s thigh. “No one has ever nagged me like this before…”

“Deng Yongquan and the others view themselves as slaves, never regarding themselves as equals; they barely speak a few words to me. The First Madam never looked at me. No one ever knew whether I gained or lost weight…”

Yuqing was soon to be a parent himself; seeing Zhou Xiao this vulnerable touched a tender chord in his heart.

Throughout these days, Zhou Xiao had attended to him with genuine humility. A dignified young master, seeing his fine home taken over without a shred of anger, turning obedient the moment he was coaxed—still like a child at heart.

Yuqing shifted slowly to sit upright, a thin quilt draped over his lap.

Zhou Xiao took care not to press against his abdomen, resting his face against his thigh, his breath warm against the seam of his trousers, his muffled voice sounding deeply aggrieved.

“Did you know? When I went to the side courtyard just now, Zhao Fu told me he had been with you for five years,” Zhou Xiao said.

Yuqing stroked his hair, already beginning to soothe him.

He had long discovered that this ‘Master Zhou’ had a heart narrower than the eye of a needle—demanding to come first in everything, throwing a fit whenever something did not go his way, truly like a child at times. Yet at other times, he could hold up the sky, wearing an entirely different face when out in the world.

Zhou Xiao was far, far more fascinating than he had ever imagined.

“He provoked me just like that. Even a servant has spent more time with you than I have. Do you care about him, or do you care about me?”

“Yuqing, do you care about me at all?”

“Zhao Fu is a household slave. If he were of the old man’s bloodline, would you still be with me? Everything in his room belongs to you; whether gifted by you or not, taking it without permission is theft by the rules. I disciplined him, and he still refused to submit…”

Yuqing smiled gently. “Zhao Fu wouldn’t do that. He submits to you.”

“Do you believe him or do you believe me!” Furious, Zhou Xiao took a nip at his thigh, overflowing with grievance, his eyes rimmed with red. “Right! He has accompanied you longer, so naturally you believe him!”

“You’re taking his side!”

Yuqing couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, thoroughly amused by his alternating fits of sulking and outrage. His finger lightly tapped the man’s cheek. “Nonsense.”

The corner of Zhou Xiao’s mouth curled, and he quickly climbed onto the mattress to burrow into Yuqing’s lap. “Then do you care about me?”

“In a few days, I must go to Shencheng. Do you care about me?”

He almost wanted to take Yuqing with him.

Yuqing himself couldn’t quite delineate what ‘caring’ meant. If pressed, he supposed he did care; as his adoptive father’s son, he naturally cared for him. He hadn’t cared before, but now Zhou Xiao had boisterously inserted himself into his once-stagnant existence.

“I care,” Yuqing coaxed him.

“Really? You aren’t just placating me?” Zhou Xiao sniffled. “Then do you care more about Zhao Fu, or more about me? Hmm?”

“Why compare yourself to him?” Yuqing felt a slight headache coming on.

That response clearly failed to satisfy Zhou Xiao. He leaned in eagerly to bite Yuqing’s soft, rosy lips. “I don’t care… I don’t care…”

“You can only want me. No one else will do. I serve you like this… why don’t you love me yet?” Zhou Xiao was growing desperate.

He simply could not accept that something he desired might slip from his grasp at any moment.

“You don’t care about me either. Even that dog of a slave Zhao Fu can walk all over me.” His words were heavy with grievance, his voice hoarse.

Yuqing’s fingertip pressed against his nose. “I never said I didn’t care.”

“Didn’t I just tell you not to lose weight in Shencheng…”

“And what happens after I leave for Shencheng? You always have so many people around you—Jiang Sui whom I’ve never met, Zhao Fu who waits on you, and who knows how many others? The moment my front foot leaves, I fear countless men will wear down the Zhou threshold. You use me and cast me aside, paying no heed to whether I am wronged.”

Yuqing was left dazed by this sudden barrage of accusations, largely because Zhou Xiao was lodging his complaints while simultaneously suckling at the crook of his neck.

Zhou Xiao’s nose remained pressed against his skin, his voice gravelly, his breathing growing thick and labored. “I don’t need you to serve me, but… but you cannot keep everything from me.”

Yuqing finally understood the root of this tantrum.

“All this fuss simply because I didn’t tell you about Jiang Sui?”

Zhou Xiao gave a grinding nip to his Adam’s apple—a silent admission, though he refused to say it aloud.

Yuqing had a folded blanket wedged behind his lower back for support, easing the ache in his spine. At midday, there was no need for lamps; the sunlight streaming through the window laid everything bare, casting a faint rosy hue over Yuqing’s porcelain skin.

Having shed his outer gown, he wore only a thin layer of inner silk. The swell of his abdomen was veiled beneath the fabric, his complexion far healthier than it had been days ago. With his long hair cascading down, he looked remarkably like an exhausted mother steeling herself to soothe a fretful child.

He casually wound a strand of his hair around Zhou Xiao’s earlobe, then let it brush past his cheek, asking softly, “Why is your heart so small?”

“My belly carries your seed; where else could I run?” Yuqing pursed his lips. “Master Zhou, rather than fretting over this, perhaps you should worry about how you intend to serve me in a moment.”

He loosened his collar, revealing his chest. “It’s swollen…”

Zhou Xiao had been so consumed with complaining and throwing his tantrum that he hadn’t noticed his wife’s condition. No wonder he needed a change of clothes; the front of his inner shirt had already been dampened over the course of the morning.

No… how could that be considered soiled?

Zhou Xiao’s Adam’s apple bobbed dryly, and he moved to lean forward.

Yuqing lightly tugged a lock of his hair: “Hold on.”

“What is it?” Zhou Xiao looked up, bewildered.

“Lie down properly,” Yuqing said with a faint smile.

He felt that letting Zhou Xiao carry on throwing these fits back and forth was no way to live. If left unchecked, this ‘Eldest Young Master’ would meddle in far too many affairs in the future. He needed to establish rules for his husband: what he was permitted to manage, and what he was forbidden from probing.

Back then, he had planned to keep the child and discard the father; he hadn’t intended to invite someone into the house to cause endless headaches.

Zhou Xiao’s throat parched, but he immediately sat up. The bedframe was an antique piece; the man possessed a large, heavy frame, and the timber creaked beneath his weight.

Supporting himself on Zhou Xiao’s shoulders, Yuqing slowly rose.

“Where are you…” Before Zhou Xiao could finish asking, Yuqing had straddled his lap, choking the words in his throat.

Zhou Xiao licked his lips, his heart hammering against his ribs. In his past, when had he ever had a mother, when had he ever been cared for, or used, by one?

Yuqing parted his inner robe, murmuring, “You are not permitted to bite, understood?”

“Mhm…”

Zhou Xiao parted his lips, and Yuqing leaned down, bringing his chest flush to the man’s mouth…

The swell of his abdomen slotted perfectly against his hips. Zhou Xiao could not rise; doing so would press against the belly. Even before birth, this unborn child had already learned how to pin him in place from inside its mother’s womb.

Yuqing’s body was transforming by the day—a reality he had noted himself.

Doctor Liu’s recent prescriptions differed from those before. For a man to bear a child was a miracle; lacking the proper anatomy, delivery meant either forcing the passages open or cutting the belly. In medical matters, Yuqing had inherited his adoptive father’s biases, disliking Western doctors. Moreover, having conceived through medicinal broths, delivering naturally was best—that was Yuqing’s resolve.

Thus, Doctor Liu’s broths these past days were aimed entirely at aiding the development of the birth canal.

Coupled with Zhou Xiao’s assistance over several days, this tender vessel was drained, filled, and drained again.

Under the midday light, Zhou Xiao could clearly make out the delicate blue veins beneath the skin. Underneath that swollen, taut flesh lay nourishment meant for the child…

Since the child was still small, what was wrong with him, the father, helping to consume it? It was only right: the father settling the child’s debt.

The more impatient he grew, the firmer Yuqing pressed his hand against the man’s neck.

After the previous night, Yuqing had realized that lying beneath him left him entirely at the man’s mercy—Zhou Xiao tasting wherever he pleased, flicking his tongue wherever he fancied. Looking down at his foot this morning, he had found a faint bruise from being suckled so hard.

With Zhou Xiao beneath him, it was entirely different. They shed no clothes and engaged in nothing excessive; merely sitting astride his waist and leaning forward was enough to tame the Young Master completely.

Yuqing laughed inwardly: truly a ‘second-hand good’ he had used before. Naive in romance, lecherous yet petty-minded—a small man wrapped in a fine skin.

Yuqing kept his palm pressed to his throat; the moment Zhou Xiao attempted to push upward, he applied pressure to the man’s Adam’s apple.

Zhou Xiao let out a series of strained, muffled coughs, his face flushing crimson. “Yuqing… Yuqing…”

Yuqing lowered his head, his long hair draping across Zhou Xiao’s face, tickling him so fiercely he could barely keep his eyes open—a waterfall of black silk.

With one hand holding his neck, Yuqing peeled the silk from his other shoulder, baring a pale, porcelain expanse. The soft rose-tinted blush showed with stark clarity in the daylight.

With his throat pinned, Zhou Xiao found breathing difficult, yet his senses were overwhelmed by a distinct, sweet richness.

“Will you be obedient from now on?” Yuqing smiled, his forearm braced against the man’s chest, his body poised, brushing tantalizingly close to the tip of Zhou Xiao’s nose. That fragrance seeping from his skin drove Zhou Xiao to the brink of madness.

Zhou Xiao’s gaze grew hazy. “What? Lost your tongue? Weren’t you brimming with grievances just a moment ago?”

“Do you wish to voice more grievances, or do you wish to serve your wife?” Yuqing’s voice was feather-light, his vivid beauty grazing past Zhou Xiao’s face. “Hmm? Speak.”

A light, stinging slap landed across Zhou Xiao’s cheek.

Zhou Xiao let out a low groan, his senses nearly choked out by Yuqing’s grip, his thoughts scattering to the winds. Any desire to throw a tantrum evaporated on the spot.

All he wanted was to beg Yuqing to ruin him completely, to let him consume him right this second.

“Yuqing…”

“Do you smell it?” Yuqing murmured tenderly. “Every trace of this scent on my body is because of you. You are forbidden from throwing wild fits in the future, do you understand?”

Zhou Xiao nodded imperceptibly: “Yes… yes.”