TAMW CH67

Yuqing had been waiting for Zhou Xiao to show his hand.

Unable to break free, Yuqing managed to pinch his lips with one hand, pressing against the tip of his tongue, curious to see just how formidable the man truly was to have worn those date pits completely smooth.

Zhou Xiao knelt straight before Yuqing, wrapping his arms around his slender waist, resting his chin lightly against his wife’s lower abdomen.

This was the very place that had carried Qingming. Though lean, it possessed a subtle, yielding softness. Zhou Xiao had noticed it more than once when undressing him—the faint hollow of his V-lines, the thin layer of flesh over the lower belly. Because his internal organs had been compressed during pregnancy, the area was exceptionally soft to the touch now. Unlike the rigid hardness of abdominal muscles, it felt more like tightly packed cotton.

He rested his chin there, nuzzling gently.

It looked like the submissive posture of one begging for mercy, yet the corner of his mouth was lifted in a fearless, roguish smirk, clinging to Yuqing for dear life. “My good Qingqing, I just missed you when I was out, and needed something to hold onto…”

He let Yuqing handle him however he pleased, obediently offering his tongue for inspection. “I just missed you too much.”

Yuqing was truly defeated by his shamelessness.

Unable to resist, he slapped Zhou Xiao’s cheek with a damp hand, asking, “Just what exactly did France teach you?”

Zhou Xiao laughed. Like a dog receiving a reward, his slightly hunched back gradually straightened, resembling a wild hound ready to pounce. “Why don’t you come with me to France someday and see for yourself?”

“Don’t change the subject.” Yuqing pinched his cheek. “You are never to carry those things again.”

The date pits in Zhou Xiao’s pocket were a sight he couldn’t bear to look at.

Before his pregnancy, Yuqing had indeed favored the candied dates from Xianxiang Restaurant. His medicines had been bitter—both the fertility drafts and the later tonics to secure the pregnancy.

Having suffered a frail constitution in his youth without access to proper medicine, he was unaccustomed to bitter flavors and needed a date every single day.

The dates from Xianxiang Restaurant were large and sweet. He always took a bite and spat the pit out; disliking the sensation of teeth scraping against the pit, he often spat them out with bits of flesh still attached.

Date pits were naturally jagged things—pointed at both ends and textured all over.

Yet the ones in Zhou Xiao’s pocket were rounded smooth at both ends, the entire surface polished sleek, with only a few faint ridges remaining on a couple of them.

From the time they met and understood each other to the moment their hearts truly aligned, at least half a year had passed. Qingming was only a year old now. In scarcely over a year, he had worn the ridges entirely smooth?

Yuqing found it utterly incomprehensible.

Just how clingy did Zhou Xiao have to be?

Refusing to pull out in the morning, lingering endlessly before finally heading out to inspect the port and the bank, fetching calling cards from the Chamber of Commerce—a light itinerary akin to a leisurely stroll—and returning in the afternoon for dinner. And he dared claim he missed him when he stepped out?

Before Qingming turned one, Yuqing’s health had indeed been fragile, making travel inconvenient.

But wasn’t he supposed to be the one waiting at home for his husband to return?

In the old days, if Zhou Xiao went out on business for half a month, it would have been entirely normal; as his wife, Yuqing’s duty was simply to manage the household. Yet Zhou Xiao treated brief partings as though they were permanent farewells—a sentiment Yuqing had never even heard of.

But before Yuqing could lecture him with, ‘A true man should not linger in the inner quarters,’ Zhou Xiao beat him to the punch.

After all, they were both inscribed in the family genealogy book. When the ancestors demanded answers a century from now, how could Yuqing possibly explain that Zhou Xiao stayed home every day just to share his bed?

But before he could deliver his lecture.

Zhou Xiao suddenly asked with a flash of inspiration: “Does this mean that when I leave the house, Qingqing never misses me?”

“Does this mean Qingqing doesn’t truly care for me?” His voice began to tremble slightly. “Aren’t spouses supposed to be deeply devoted to one another? I miss you and long for you—is that somehow a crime? I love you so much, doesn’t Qingqing understand?”

“Only if you don’t love me would you fail to understand, and even find these things repulsive!”

By the time he uttered the last few words, a distinct sob had crept into his voice.

Abandoning his kneeling posture, he stood up abruptly and threw his suit jacket to the floor. “If you find them so offensive, throw them all away!”

Qingming was sitting in his playpen, happily playing with the abacus he had chosen during his ‘drawing lots’ ceremony. Startled by the jacket suddenly flying past him, the toddler burst into tears.

“Waaah—!”

Wiping his eyes, Zhou Xiao scooped the child up, patting his back gently, offering Yuqing only a half-turned shoulder.

With red-rimmed eyes, he held the crying child, patting his back—anyone looking would think Yuqing was a heartless tyrant about to cast out his husband and child to start a new life.

Dumbfounded by this sudden reversal of guilt, Yuqing was left speechless.

He hurried forward to check on the child. Zhou Xiao didn’t resist, handing the now-quieted toddler into Yuqing’s arms before turning to sit on the edge of the bed, his head hanging low.

“Zezhi…” Yuqing felt a mix of exasperation and amusement at his childish antics.

Had he even said anything?

Had he scolded him?

It was just that popping those things into his mouth while out and about… what kind of propriety was that? It wasn’t sanitary, and more importantly, it was entirely unseemly if anyone saw. What respectable businessman goes around sucking on date pits someone else had in their mouth?

He merely wanted to throw Zhou Xiao’s date pits away.

Yet this man had managed to spin it into a grand thesis on how Yuqing didn’t love him, working himself into such a state of grievance that he ended up crying while holding the baby.

Who acts like this?

“Mother… Mother…” Qingming sniffled a few times, his tiny hands clinging tightly to Yuqing’s neck, burying his chubby, round face into his collar.

The sound meant the child was tired.

It made sense; today was his first birthday celebration. For a one-year-old, eating was naturally followed by sleeping. After a bustling day, he had stayed up playing with the abacus into the night, growing overtired and cranky; the slightest startle was enough to make him cry.

“There, there, Qingming is a good boy.” Yuqing patted the child’s back, swaying his shoulders gently to soothe him.

Qingming was well-behaved. After a few whimpers, he rested his head on Yuqing’s shoulder and fell fast asleep.

The child had just nodded off and wasn’t yet in a deep sleep, so Yuqing decided to hold him a little longer before laying him down.

Carrying the child, he walked over to the sulking Zhou Xiao and freed a hand to pinch his cheek. “Are you truly throwing a temper at Yuqing?”

Zhou Xiao never dodged Yuqing’s touch; instead, he leaned his face into his palm, murmuring aggrievedly, “Qingqing…”

A damp warmth seeped through Yuqing’s fingers—it was his tears again.

A grown man constantly shedding tears, and always because of him. Yuqing couldn’t bring himself to scold him, merely saying, “The child is already this big; how could I not love you?”

Moreover, in a marriage like theirs, love was usually the absolute last priority.

Family and business came first; everything outweighed romance.

Clearly, Zhou Xiao’s priorities were entirely inverted.

“I have to leave you every single day; I just wanted to keep a memento…” Zhou Xiao took his hand, prompting Yuqing to step closer.

Holding the child, Yuqing stood before him. Zhou Xiao sat on the bed with his legs parted, and Yuqing stood right between them.

With a sweep of his long arms, Zhou Xiao buried his face into Yuqing’s waist again. “Don’t despise me, and don’t scold me, alright?”

“Oh dear—” Yuqing drew out his words. “My Master Zhou, shedding tears over such a trifle—whatever is the matter with you?”

Yuqing was truly at his wit’s end with him.

Holding one child with one arm, he had to unfasten his robes with the other to coax the overgrown child.

Burying his head in his wife’s fragrant embrace, Zhou Xiao bit down and took his fill.

Qingming had no idea his father’s head was right beside him. After sleeping for a while, Yuqing moved to lay him down, but the shift woke the child: “Mother…”

“Alright, alright, I won’t put you down. Go back to sleep.” Yuqing had to shift the child to his other arm, baring his other side.

At this moment, Yuqing could only count his blessings that the older child didn’t demand to be carried as well; that would have been truly impossible.

Zhou Xiao was unreasonable but easy to coax. Yuqing simply couldn’t bear to see his tears fall, terrified that his father in heaven would scold him for failing to care for him properly.

By the time the child was sound asleep, Yuqing’s chest was too swollen to pull his clothes shut. Zhou Xiao finally took the baby from him and placed him in the crib.

Unable to fasten his inner robes, Yuqing had to wait for Zhou Xiao to return and soothe the ache.

After a while, seeing no sign of him, Yuqing grew curious and propped himself up to look.

Through the sheer bed curtains, he saw Zhou Xiao crouching on the floor, gathering the scattered date pits. Counting them in his palm and finding the number short, he dropped to his hands and knees, scouring the floor like a man on a mission.

Yuqing couldn’t hold back a burst of laughter: “Zezhi—”

“My good Madam, please don’t laugh at me.” Zhou Xiao’s ears flushed bright red. He truly couldn’t live without Yuqing.

He didn’t know why, but ever since the child’s birth, he frequently dreamed of Yuqing’s pale, bloodless face during labor. Only when nursing in his embrace did he feel a measure of security—though being inside him helped as well. Whenever they parted, he was seized by an irrational terror that Yuqing might take the child and leave, abandoning him along with his responsibilities.

Perhaps it was the trauma of being abandoned by his “mother,” or the near-miss of losing his wife.

In his subconscious, Zhou Xiao always felt he was someone easily discarded. He needed to carry a piece of Yuqing with him at all times; having something of his made the anxiety bearable.

Hearing his distress, a wave of sorrow washed over Yuqing. Caressing his cheek, he said softly, “Yuqing shouldn’t have laughed at you.”

“The Master’s heart is simply pure. It is Yuqing’s fault for failing to put the Master’s mind at ease.”

This was his duty as a wife, as ingrained in traditional values.

Though residing at home, he had failed to bring his husband peace of mind, causing him to fret while out doing business; the fault lay with him.

Zhou Xiao, however, countered: “Having allure is hardly your fault.”

His gaze darkened, taking on a deep, almost spectral intensity as he coaxed, “Then… may I keep these date pits?”

Yuqing’s expression froze, asking tentatively, “Do you truly intend to put them in your mouth every single day?”

Zhou Xiao didn’t answer, but his ears turned bright red.

“How did you smooth out the sharp ends on both sides?”

Zhou Xiao didn’t quite know how to explain. In truth, whenever he absentmindedly chewed on something, he instinctively bit off the sharp edges; over time, a date pit would naturally become entirely smooth.

He treasured every single one, washing them clean daily—preferably soaking them in jasmine tea, so they always carried his wife’s scent.

To this day, Yuqing couldn’t fathom what this supposed scent was.

Zhou Xiao suggested he sit on his face and take a close whiff to understand it better.

“You incorrigible Master Zhou,” Yuqing tapped his nose.

Zhou Xiao chased his fingertip, attempting to bite it, gently swaying his arm. “My good Qingqing, may I?”

“Only if you promise me never to put them in your mouth again. Accidentally swallowing one could be fatal.”

Raising Qingming, they listened to the wet nurse’s daily advice, which frequently warned that infants must never swallow hard objects lest they choke and die.

Yuqing kept a vigilant eye on whatever the child grabbed and stuffed into his mouth.

He figured adults weren’t much different and wanted to exert the same strict oversight.

With his face buried, Zhou Xiao had no choice but to agree.

Though he promised to stop eating them, the very next day, Master Zhou was seen sporting a beaded bracelet on his wrist.

No one could quite identify the material—it was glossy, sleek, and felt almost unnervingly smooth against the palm.

By a year and a half, Qingming had learned to walk on his own.

By this time, Yuqing began stepping out frequently to conduct business.

Holding the title of Chamber President, he naturally couldn’t rely on the name alone.

During this year and a half, Zhou Xiao had laid an unshakeable foundation for him at the port. When Yuqing returned to the docks, the entire landscape had been transformed.

A three-story building had been erected beside the harbor. The ground floor served as an administrative office, where shipowners verified their imports and exports.

The second floor handled currency exchange and permit stamping, while the third floor housed the President’s office.

Facing the sea, one could watch the tide recede, leaving ships stranded in the sands with their hulls towering high against a breathtaking sunset.

Under Zhou Xiao’s management over the past year and a half, the port ran like a well-oiled machine. Tracing the polished desk, Yuqing couldn’t help but praise his efficiency.

Zhou Xiao leaned in, his smile deepening: “It was all executed according to the Madam’s wishes.”

“And the lilies on the desk—were they executed according to my wishes as well?” Yuqing asked.

“A small token from your husband.”

Zhou Xiao frequently sent him fresh bouquets.

Especially since Qingming’s birth, Zhou Xiao had taken to gifting intensely fragrant flowers.

Before one bouquet could wilt, a fresh one would appear in its place.

Lilies, roses, freesias, gardenias, orchids, amaryllis…

The list was endless.

Zhou Xiao had once said that since Yuqing didn’t care for jasmine, he would keep sending fresh flowers until Yuqing found the one he truly loved.

Round and round it went, and Yuqing himself had no idea what he would ultimately favor. The flowers Zhou Xiao sent were always vibrant and in perfect bloom.

Eventually, Yuqing realized he had never truly cared about the flowers—he only cared about the one who sent them.

Years ago, out of profound gratitude to his father, who loved jasmine, Yuqing had forced himself to love jasmine as well.

Now, loving Zhou Xiao, he found that whatever the man sent filled him with immense delight; the blossoms were vivid, blooming brilliantly in his eyes.

Coming from Zhou Xiao, the sentiment was entirely different; the flowers carried profound meaning.

During the day, Zhou Xiao occasionally spent time on the ground floor, flipping through import-export manifests for random inspections.

Since they had taken total control of the port, not a speck of opium had entered Baizhou, and the railway would connect by year’s end.

Yuqing controlled the port and land transport, while Zhou Xiao owned the railway. Though they operated as a single entity, one was the adopted son and the other the legitimate heir; rumors of their discord still lingered.

After all, no one truly believed Zhou Xiao would tolerate his father’s adopted son standing above him.

Who could have guessed that the two men, supposedly at odds in public, dove under the same covers every night to share boundless passion?

What outsiders could never fathom was that if Yuqing truly stepped on Zhou Xiao’s head at home, Zhou Xiao would be the one delirious with joy, utterly incapable of containing himself.

Having finished his inspections, Zhou Xiao watched a freighter steam out of the harbor.

A Ford pulled up downstairs, and a subordinate rushed up: “Boss Zhou, you have a visitor.”

Zhou Xiao wondered who it could be; it was Deng Yongquan, bringing Qingming along.

Deng Yongquan reported: “The Madam was busy today and didn’t come home for lunch. The young master threw a fuss and cried for a long while.”

The pale little dumpling in Deng Yongquan’s arms wore a deep purple silk jacket embroidered with clouds, the tip of his nose red from crying. Spotting Zhou Xiao, he reached out his arms, crying, “Daddy!”

“Oh dear—Daddy’s precious boy.” Zhou Xiao took him into his arms. “Missing Mother?”

Because of his pale skin and the soft, fine hair inherited from Yuqing, cutting it short made Qingming look rather silly; instead, his hair was grown out and braided into two neat plaits down his back. His round, doe-like eyes fluttered with striking beauty.

Seeing Zhou Xiao holding the child, someone laughed and asked, “Boss Zhou, is this your child? What a beautiful boy!”

Zhou Xiao let out a boastful, booming laugh: “He takes after the Madam.”

At a year and a half, Qingming was constantly attended to at home and rarely ventured out. Clinging to his father’s neck, he whined softly, “Daddy, I want Mother… I want Mother…”

“Alright, alright.”

“Daddy, I want Mother…”

The boy tugged at Zhou Xiao’s neck, leaving Zhou Xiao no time to exchange pleasantries with the acquaintance. “Urgent business, excuse me.”

“Eh? Wasn’t Boss Zhou about to take the child home to the Madam? Why is he heading upstairs?”

“You forgot, both Boss Zhou and Boss Ruan live in the Zhou estate. The one upstairs…” The man pointed upward. “The President is the Zhou family’s adopted son. Now that he holds immense power, Boss Zhou is naturally taking the child up to curry favor on his way back.”

“Oh, right. Killing two birds with one stone, currying favor.”

Hearing a knock at the door, Yuqing didn’t look up, merely calling out, “Enter.” He was currently auditing ledgers Zhou Xiao had handled previously; though trivial, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Absorbed in his calculations, he didn’t check who had entered, merely keeping his head down: “Speak if you have business, or leave the documents here; I’ll look them over when I have time.”

Suddenly, a tiny bundle threw its arms around his calf, plopping onto the floor with a soft thud. “Mother~”

“Hmm?” Yuqing dropped his fountain pen instantly. “Why are you here?”

He reached down, lifting the child onto his lap. “Hmm? My little Qingming.”

Qingming pouted his lips, planting two loud, sloppy kisses on Yuqing’s cheeks, his milky voice piping up, “Mother, Mother~ I missed you.”

“You little clingy sprite.” Pressing his cheek against the child’s, Yuqing looked up and spotted the child’s father. “Is the bigger one just going to stand there?”

“The bigger clingy sprite has come to escort Madam home.”

“Stop clinging to your mother; little fatty, you’re going to crush your mother’s legs.” Zhou Xiao moved to take the child from Yuqing’s lap, but the boy stubbornly resisted.

“I want Mother…”

Yuqing chuckled low: “He missed me. It’s been a whole day.”

Qingming’s braids had grown messy after his nap. The wet nurse had redone them, but not as neatly as Yuqing usually did.

Yuqing turned Qingming around to sit facing away from him, pinching his chubby cheek. “Mother will re-braid your hair.”

Qingming placed his tiny hands dutifully on the edge of the desk, parroting Yuqing’s words in his milky voice: “Mother is braiding my hair~”

“Is Mother good?” Zhou Xiao leaned over the desk, reaching out to tease the boy’s face. “Hmm?”

“Good~ Mother is good.” Qingming smiled, a small dimple appearing beneath his eye, as if replacing the tiny mole beneath Yuqing’s pupil, adding a touch of childhood innocence.

“Is Daddy good?”

“Daddy is good~” he replied obediently, his little legs swinging in the air.

As Yuqing leaned back in his chair to braid the child’s hair, the sun began its slow descent toward the sea horizon. Seeing such a sight for the first time, Qingming couldn’t wait for Yuqing to finish, pointing urgently outside. “Mother~ Mother, why is Grandpa Sun stacking up?”

Half the sunset had been swallowed by the sea horizon. Yuqing explained, “That is the setting sun, and that is the sea.”

Once his hair was done, Zhou Xiao lifted him up to look out the window. “Is it pretty?”

“Mm! Red!” Qingming chirped clearly. “Like the red lanterns at home~”

Qingming’s enunciation wasn’t perfect, but knowing this, he deliberately spoke slowly so his parents could understand him.

He compared the crimson sunset on the sea to the red lanterns hanging in their estate.

With Zhou Xiao holding the child, Yuqing abandoned his work, capping his fountain pen. The family of three stood by the window, gazing out at the world.

Yuqing rested his head gently against Qingming’s tiny shoulder, smiling: “One day, Qingming will grow as tall as Daddy.”

“Yay!”

“Qingming, wants a hug~” Having been held by Zhou Xiao for a while, he still craved his mother’s embrace.

Perhaps children instinctively rely more heavily on their mothers, having been nursed at their breasts.

“Mother is tired today. When we get home, Daddy will feed you rice porridge.”

Qingming lowered his head in disappointment, pouting his lips.

At a year and a half, he had long been weaned. Yet Qingming could always catch the faint scent of milk on his mother, which made him crave it.

But when Daddy told him there was none, he could only feel disappointed.

A growing child cannot be overindulged; Yuqing agreed on this point. Moreover, once past a year old, breastmilk alone was insufficient for growth; solid foods had to supplement his diet.

The logic was sound, yet it was also the result of Zhou Xiao’s relentless coaxing and deception.

Otherwise, by the time the child reached weaning age, Zhou Xiao still wouldn’t have reached his.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but he truly couldn’t bear to see Yuqing suffer. Weaning required forcefully enduring the engorgement for two days, making side-sleeping impossible.

Living with Yuqing, whenever the fullness reached a certain point, Zhou Xiao could almost see the skin grow taut, carrying a subtle, heavy sway when Yuqing walked.

Yet stripped of clothes, his form was virtually identical to a man’s, revealing nothing extraordinary—a marvel, save for a slight, telltale fullness.

Zhou Xiao coaxed Yuqing to take it slow, reducing the frequency gradually, claiming it would dry up naturally over time.

Yuqing believed him; after all, with Zhou Xiao constantly nursing, he hadn’t felt that agonizing pain in a long while.

Now that he had to step out and conduct business, things couldn’t continue as they had.

Yuqing cut Zhou Xiao’s daily feedings down to three: morning, noon, and night.

The initial stages were difficult; Yuqing’s body had grown overly mature. Since childbirth, he was like an overripe cherry—so tender and lush that the slightest touch brought forth a sweet fragrance.

The next day, Zhou Xiao took on the task assigned by his wife, inspecting two freighters arriving from Germany. Yuqing had reviewed the ledgers yesterday and suspected discrepancies aboard the two vessels.

True enough, by late morning, Zhou Xiao had uncovered smuggled pharmaceuticals hidden in the holds.

Now a father himself, he refrained from wanton slaughter, dragging the culprits to Jiang Sui’s barracks to be dealt with according to port regulations.

The Chamber of Commerce paid hefty sums to the military garrison year-round; it was only right that Jiang Sui handled such matters.

By the time everything was settled, it was past two in the afternoon.

Just as he returned to the port, Xiao Yue hurried over in a panic: “Master, Master, you’re finally back! The Madam is looking for you!”

“What happened?” Zhou Xiao’s first instinct was that a thorny issue had arisen at the port; his face darkened. “Is someone giving the Madam trouble?”

“I… I don’t know, Master,” Xiao Yue scratched his head.

Zhou Xiao bounded up the stairs, taking four steps at a time: “Qingqing—!”

Pushing the door open, Yuqing was clutching his forehead in distress. Hearing him enter, he snapped, “Imbecile, do you not know how to knock?”

Seeing his pale face, Zhou Xiao hastily locked the door. “My good Qingqing, what is it?”

“What do you think? Hurry… my clothes are unfit to be seen,” Yuqing unfastened his buttons. “What happened today…”

Busy at Jiang Sui’s headquarters at noon, Zhou Xiao had insisted on watching the smugglers take a bullet before leaving, delaying his return.

“My good Madam, it is my fault. I returned late.” Zhou Xiao immediately dropped to his knees before him, burying his face into his chest.

“If you do this again, I will endure the pain for two days and let it dry up for good,” Yuqing pressed his face closer in a fluster. “Subordinates were in here reporting earlier, and it kept spilling…”

“Did anyone see?” Zhou Xiao asked.

“No, but I knew.”

How could he not feel what was happening to his own body?

“My good Madam, are you angry with me?” Zhou Xiao mumbled, his voice muffled against him.