Zhu Qingyu fumbled under the covers to find Zhang Shen’s hand, then turned on her side to embrace his arm, gently soothing him:
“I’ve never regretted it. I simply don’t know who else in this world could be a better husband than you. Meeting you was my good fortune. Even if you had prepared a dowry for me back then, I wouldn’t have been willing to marry anyone else.”
Zhu Qingyu spoke from the heart.
Survival was the foremost priority, and a single woman trying to survive alone in this world would inevitably encounter numerous hardships and malice.
She was very fortunate—the first person she met after transmigrating into this world was Zhang Shen. Without his mediation and protection, she would have fallen into the hands of some powerful figure two years ago.
Over these two years, Zhang Shen had been gentle and considerate toward her. He had never let her suffer the indignities of the inner household, never skimped on her food or clothing, and had even funded the opening of a medical clinic for her. She couldn’t think of anything she had to complain about.
Between husband and wife, there need not necessarily be romantic love. Getting along like family could also last long and well.
Zhu Qingyu spoke with sincerity, but whether Zhang Shen hadn’t taken her words to heart and remained troubled, or whether it was due to his chill, he developed a fever in the middle of the night and was ill for several days.
Zhang Shen still wanted to go to the shop to check the accounts, but Zhu Qingyu pressed him back under the covers, refusing to let him get up:
“Just drink your medicine and rest properly, alright? It’s so cold out—don’t push yourself.”
Zhang Shen had been sickly since childhood and knew his own body well. He also wanted to live a few more years and didn’t dare overexert himself, so he said:
“Then go in my place? Would you?”
Originally, when they had agreed to this arrangement, it was understood that they would cover for each other and that this marriage wasn’t meant to be real.
But at some point, Zhang Shen had begun, intentionally or not, to let Zhu Qingyu involve herself in the Zhang family business—bringing her to meet the family’s branch managers from various regions and teaching her to read account books.
In Zhang Shen’s own words:
“What if I suddenly die one day? You can’t be completely ignorant of our family’s business and let people swindle and embezzle from you without knowing.”
Checking accounts wasn’t something Zhu Qingyu was doing for the first time, so she agreed:
“Alright, I’ll go check. You rest well.”
And so Zhu Qingyu became busy. By the time Zhang Shen recovered, she didn’t dare let him handle everything alone, so she accompanied him until all their affairs in the capital were settled—which brought them to the ninth day of the tenth month.
In winter, the capital was a place of bustling ambition, and every household was frantically busy.
On the ninth day of the tenth month, Gu Zhao was also so busy that he only left the palace just before the palace gates were locked for the night. Returning to the Duke’s mansion, by the time he finished dinner and washed up, it was nearly the hour of Hai.
At this hour, Old Madame Gu was still awake. She sent a matron to the front courtyard study to ask:
“Old Madame asks: will the Young Lord be in the mansion tomorrow? She would like to arrange for Miss Yan to serve you tea tomorrow. Would that be acceptable?”
Gu Zhao had been so busy recently that he’d completely forgotten about this matter. It only came back to him when the matron brought it up.
Indeed—the tenth day of the tenth month was his day off, and he had promised Grandmother last time.
So her surname was Yan.
Gu Zhao said:
“I’ve already made plans with someone during the day tomorrow. Arrange it for the hour of You. Tell Grandmother I’ll return at the hour of You and come to the rear courtyard.”
The matron hadn’t come empty-handed—she brought something with her:
“Yes. Old Madame also instructed that although people have been arranged to teach her, Miss Yan comes from a family of scholars. Young ladies are thin-skinned and don’t know much—she may not be thorough in her attentions. She asks that the Young Lord be understanding.”
What the matron delivered was a set of books.
After seeing the matron off, Gu Zhao flipped through the volumes and realized that Grandmother wasn’t worried about the girl not knowing—she was clearly worried that he didn’t know.
What the matron had brought were Fire-Avoidance Illustrations.
Gu Zhao had never actually looked at such things before, mainly because circumstances hadn’t permitted it.
Since the Emperor’s enlightenment, Gu Zhao had resided permanently in the palace as the Crown Prince’s study companion, spending months and years away from the mansion.
At that time, Noble Consort Gao and the Second Prince were at the height of their power, and the late Emperor had already shown intentions of establishing a different heir. Gu Zhao was cautious in word and deed, holding himself to the standards of a sage. Every day in the palace was spent under immense pressure, not daring the slightest misstep, for fear of being caught on some error that the late Emperor could use as a pretext to depose the Crown Prince.
So not only had he never looked at Fire-Avoidance Illustrations, he never even gave palace maids a second glance.
Three years ago, Noble Consort Gao and the Second Prince both died in an epidemic. The late Emperor nearly went mad. To protect the Emperor, Gu Zhao received an imperial decree to take monastic vows and entered a Buddhist holy site, where he would never touch such worldly things.
Times had changed. Now that Grandmother had sent them, Gu Zhao didn’t deliberately avoid them. Taking advantage of his free time before bed, he sat upright at the desk and flipped through them page by page, expression cold and detached, as if reviewing memorials in the Grand Secretariat.
His attendant came in to prepare his bed, and seeing the Young Lord’s proper demeanor of studying the sages’ texts by lamplight, he feared disturbing his master’s work and slipped back out without making a sound.
Gu Zhao never did things halfway—once he started something, he had to finish it. So he read until midnight, finishing all the books Grandmother had sent, and only then blew out the lamp and went to bed.
He hadn’t noticed it while reading, but once he lay down, Gu Zhao became aware that his breathing was somewhat unsteady. In the silent night, his heartbeat was unusually pronounced, and even his palms were covered in a thin layer of sweat.
“Food and sex are part of human nature.” Gu Zhao didn’t take the heat seriously and simply went to sleep.
Only after falling asleep did he realize how potent it was—the effects hitting him with full force.
All night long, his dreams were filled with revelry and sensual pleasures, featuring a beauty of unparalleled allure. Just as dawn was breaking, Gu Zhao woke with a gasp from that boundless indulgence.
He touched his neck and found it slick with sweat.
He’d had such erotic dreams before, but they were mostly fragmented and hazy snippets.
Never had they been like last night’s—the beauty’s face so vivid it seemed right before his eyes, her murmurs and gasps so seductive they seemed to whisper in his ear, so real, so vivid, so moist, as if it had truly happened.
Hearing the commotion, his attendant asked softly from outside the door:
“Young Master, are you getting up?”
Gu Zhao didn’t rise immediately as he usually did. The lingering erotic dream still clung to his mind, the fading pleasure wrapping around his body, leaving him unable—and unwilling—to move. He even savored the memory, reluctant to snap back to reality.
Thankfully, it was only a dream.
And thankfully, the one he’d taken liberties with in the dream was his own household woman.
So it was only natural, hardly anything out of line.
After a while, Gu Zhao let out a long breath and rose with a composed expression. As he found clothes to change into and cleaned himself up, he asked his attendant:
“What time is it?”
The attendant replied:
“Young Master, it’s nearly the hour of Chen (7-9 AM).”
The hour of Chen—still five hours until the hour of You (5-7 PM).
Gu Zhao suddenly felt a twinge of regret. He could have had tea during the day, after all.
But the appointed time was already set, and he couldn’t very well change it. He still had to attend the daytime engagement he’d agreed to.
After lunch at Drunken Immortal Tower with his friends, he should have returned home, but Gu Zhao turned his horse toward Vermilion Sparrow Street instead.
He remembered how she’d looked that day—too plain and simple.
His grandmother had said her family had fallen on hard times, and the household had purchased her. She’d likely entered the residence with nothing to her name, using only the standard supplies allotted by the household.
Though she wasn’t to be his principal wife, she would still be the one sharing his life from now on. Gu Zhao figured that even if there was no grand bridal procession, since today she’d be formally serving tea and being recognized, he ought to buy her some proper jewelry.
Noble ladies in the capital bought their cosmetics, clothing, and jewelry mostly on Vermilion Sparrow Street. Gu Zhao knew nothing about such matters, nor which shops were best, so he simply picked the establishment with the most expensive-looking storefront and walked in.
The moment he entered, he saw the girl from last night’s dream—the one with the charming smile and captivating beauty—standing at the counter, holding up two gold hairpins inlaid with jade, examining them in the light, looking uncertain which one to choose.