Zhao Xian couldn’t be bothered with his sour expression. Picking up the account book, she said, “If you came to see me just to say these things, you’d better spend more time holding your daughter. You’re a father now, yet you still don’t know how to be steady.”
What she really wanted to say was: spend more time with your own daughter. This girl was also terribly unlucky—she died before even reaching her hair-pinning ceremony.
She remembered reading a comment after finishing the original novel.
It said that the male lead was too ruthless in the early stages, and the author couldn’t convincingly reconcile the couple afterward, so they deliberately arranged for Xiu Jie’er’s death to make the female lead seek revenge for her daughter.
This was meant to highlight the male lead’s power and methods, allowing the heartbroken female lead to rely on him and creating an opportunity for the two to reconcile.
A forced happy ending.
Below the comment, some agreed, while others opposed, arguing fiercely.
Jiang Wei’s expression was tense, his eyes as cold as ice. “Steady? Mother, do you know how people outside are gossiping about you and laughing at me?”
Even when angry, his face remained cold. Zhao Xian could hardly imagine him melting like an iceberg later while chasing his wife. Truly terrifying.
“Lianniang’s premature birth this time was too dangerous. Your handwriting is good—copy a few pages of Buddhist scriptures every day when you return. Once Lianniang has finished her month of confinement, we’ll go to the temple together to pray for her and the child.”
Speaking of praying to gods and Buddhas, Zhao Xian’s thoughts drifted.
When the time came, she would ask Bodhisattva to bless her return home, or see if she could encounter an enlightened monk to seek the way back.
The waters of a tragic novel ran too deep; she didn’t want to wade through them. It was better to spend as little time in this place as possible.
Jiang Wei frowned. “Mother, I’m talking to you about the rumors.”
Zhao Xian tossed the account book aside and looked up at Jiang Wei. “Mouths belong to others. They can say whatever they want—should I go around sewing them shut? If others laugh at you and you’re unhappy, curse them back. You’re married, a father to a child, no longer a young boy who runs home to his parents to seek justice when wronged.”
Jiang Wei’s chest heaved. He had never realized that talking to his own mother could be so difficult. It made his chest ache with anger.
Footsteps strode away, the passing breeze disturbing the incense smoke in the burner. It took a while before the blue smoke rose straight again.
“Storming off in a huff at the slightest provocation—his father never had such strange habits.” Zhao Xian glanced at Nanny He. “Go tell the eldest young master that a child needs to be held often to bond with him. Otherwise, he’ll keep that cold face and the child won’t even call him ‘Father.’ Remind him again to copy the scriptures.”
Nanny He said, “Madam, those rumors outside…”
Zhao Xian waved her hand. “They’re just rumors. No need to pay them any mind.”
As a celebrity assistant, what kind of scene hadn’t she seen?
Rumors? Just tricks of hype. There were plenty of ways to deal with them, but now wasn’t the right time.
Nanny He picked up the ink stick and began grinding ink, her tone gentle:
“Madam, as you just said, the eldest young master is no longer a child. There are plenty of ways to care for the eldest young mistress—the female physician, midwives, and maids are all here. Why must you personally stay in Yunzhu Yuan?”
Nanny He had felt that ever since the second young master stormed off in anger that day, Madam had seemed somewhat different.
In the past, Madam disliked the eldest young mistress the most, yet this time, she had repeatedly slighted the eldest young master for the sake of the eldest young mistress.
If she had moved to Yunzhu Yuan to make trouble for the eldest young mistress, judging by Madam’s actions, it seemed entirely for the eldest young mistress’s benefit.
Nanny He couldn’t quite understand Madam anymore.
“Perhaps in the eyes of parents, no matter how old they grow, they will always be children.” Realizing she had said something contradictory, Zhao Xian quickly added, “Lianniang’s childbirth was so perilous this time, it reminded me of the difficulties I faced when giving birth to Wei’er for the first time.”
Nanny He had not always been by the original host’s side. Seeing Zhao Xian deliberately speak with such sorrow, she found it hard to persuade her further.
“Go and open the storeroom. Bring out those brightly colored, high-quality fabrics. Lianniang has worked hard giving birth to a child for our Jiang Jia.”
This time, after Jiang Wei stormed off in anger, he did not appear before Zhao Xian for several days.
However, she sent servants daily to invite him to hold the child.
Bonds with children are built through time spent together. How can they be maintained solely by that thin thread of blood relation?
It’s far too insubstantial.
Zhao Xian suddenly received many invitations to go out—to Shanghua Yan, tea appreciation banquets, and the like.
The life of a wealthy lady truly is rich and varied.
The account books of Jiang Jia and the trivial matters of the household gave her a headache, leaving her no time to go out.
She only hoped that Li Lianniang would recover quickly and leave her confinement period to take over these affairs.
She was not the original host and had no desire to toil.
Being the mistress of the household was no easy task. Daily household expenses, income, repairs needed in any part of the estate—all had to be reported to her. After the snow melted and spring arrived, funds had to be allocated for new clothes and shoes, for both the masters and the servants. Everywhere, there were matters to attend to.
“Our Xiu Jie’er truly has it easy.”
Eat, sleep, repeat—no worries at all.
After settling in Yunzhu Yuan, Zhao Xian developed the habit of amusing the child whenever she had the chance.
After all, when the child cried or was hungry, someone else would soothe or feed her. She simply treated it like playing with a little figurine, finding joy in it.
“Waa waa…”
But today, as soon as she took the child into her arms, the little one burst into tears.
She quickly handed the child back to the wet nurse. “Has she not been fed yet?”
The wet nurse looked troubled, hesitating and stammering.
No matter how long she tried to soothe the child, it was no use.
It was Li Lianniang who spoke up, “Let me hold the child.”
Inside the room, sheltered from the wind, Li Lianniang had already started moving around, though she did not step outside.
As soon as the child was in her arms, the crying stopped immediately.
“Xiu Jie’er is so clever. She knows it’s her mother holding her.”
“The child recognizes her mother and is close to her.”
The maids and elderly servants chimed in one after another with flattering words, all conveying the same meaning.
Since the child was close to her mother, Zhao Xian didn’t pay it much mind.
But she noticed that over the past few days, every time she saw Li Lianniang, she was holding the child. Upon asking, she learned that apart from feeding, the child now refused to be held by the wet nurse or maids—she only clung to her mother.
Even when Zhao Xian held her, the child would cry immediately, but as soon as Li Lianniang took her, the crying would stop.
“What about the eldest young master?”
The wet nurse replied cautiously, “The eldest young master came for two days, but Xiu Jie’er cried every time she saw him. After that, he refused to come again. When he does come, he only watches from afar.”
Is she really that particular about people?
Li Lianniang loved holding Xiu Jie’er. After all, it was her own daughter—what mother wouldn’t want to hold her?
Even when her arms grew sore, she couldn’t bear to put the child down.
“Bring the child over.”
The wet nurse carried the child to the side room. As soon as Zhao Xian reached out to take her, the child’s dark eyes glanced at her and immediately burst into loud wails.
The wet nurse reached out to take the child back, but Zhao Xian didn’t move. Instead, she turned around with the crying Jiang Shuxiu in her arms, pacing around the room while murmuring softly:
“You always want your mother to hold you, are you trying to tire her to death? Even if holding you won’t kill her, your mother just gave birth to you. During the postpartum month, she shouldn’t be holding the child. The more and longer she holds you, the more she’ll suffer from hand and back pain later on, developing all sorts of postpartum ailments. In severe cases, she’ll even experience constant pain on rainy days. If you make your mother hold you every day, she won’t recover well and will suffer from headaches later…”
When Zhao Xian said, “Are you trying to tire your mother to death?” the baby in her arms actually stopped crying.
She just didn’t notice it and went on chattering, recounting all the postpartum ailments she had heard about from her sisters-in-law and cousins who had given birth.
By the time she finished, the child had long stopped crying.
Whether it was an illusion or not, Zhao Xian felt the baby’s gaze seemed to carry a hint of heartache and pity.
“What a good child who cares for her mother.”
Whether the child understood or not, praise came naturally.
After that, the baby no longer clung only to Li Lianniang. Zhao Xian wondered if the baby hadn’t completely forgotten.
When Jiang Wei came, having heard the child cried less, and was strongly urged by Zhao Xian, he took the baby.
But as soon as he held the child in his arms, the baby burst into tears without warning.
Jiang Wei’s already cold face turned even frostier.
“You’re the father, can’t you smile at your daughter? With that icy face, you’ve scared the child.” Zhao Xian took the baby from Jiang Wei’s arms, turned to look at Jiang Shuxiu, who was crying with tears streaming down her face, and held her closer, whispering, “Your father is a man, strong and sturdy. Holding a baby won’t tire or harm him. Why are you worrying about him?”
Jiang Shuxiu thought her grandmother was strange—weren’t her words contradictory?
“He didn’t give birth to you, didn’t experience the pain of childbirth, doesn’t know how hard it is to have a child. If he doesn’t hold you more, how will he learn to love you? Be a good baby, let him hold you more, let him learn how to be a father.”
Jiang Shuxiu looked carefully at her grandmother before her. Why was she so different from the one in her memories?
The grandmother in her memories never hid her dislike for her. Could it be that before she could remember, her grandmother had loved her?
Over the past few days, she had noticed her grandmother was also very good to her mother, completely different from the person she had been in her previous life.
What had happened in between to make her grandmother dislike her and her mother so much later on?
She tried placing the baby in Jiang Wei’s arms again, and this time, the baby really didn’t cry.
“Did she smile? Did she smile?” Jiang Wei’s tone was somewhat excited.
But when the wet nurse leaned in to look, she couldn’t see Xiu Jie’er smiling. The baby had only been born a short while ago—crying was common, but smiling was rare.
No one agreed with Jiang Wei, but he had clearly seen the curve of his daughter’s mouth.
It was this smile that swept away his earlier annoyance at the baby’s crying, and he held the child with more genuine affection.
Zhao Xian, however, was inwardly surprised—could it be she really hadn’t completely forgotten?
Regardless, Jiang Shuxiu no longer fussed about who held her, and there were more heartwarming scenes of Jiang Wei holding the child with Li Lianniang.
Zhao Xian occasionally came across them, feeling like she was being fed dog food.
“Mother.” Jiang Wei’s face still showed little expression, but his address changed from ‘Mother’ to ‘Mom,’ indicating he wasn’t angry at the moment.
Zhao Xian nodded. “See how well-behaved your daughter is.”
Hold her well, hold her often—otherwise, how will you cultivate a doting father?
Li Lianniang looked apologetically at Zhao Xian. “Mom, I need to apologize to you.”
After her daughter was taken by her mother-in-law, she no longer clung solely to her, and Li Lianniang initially felt a bit sad, wondering if her mother-in-law was trying to take her daughter away.
But when her husband held the child and joked with her, and her mother-in-law never mentioned taking Xiu Jie’er away to raise her, she realized her mother-in-law’s thoughtful intentions.
“What fault do you have? You are now the most meritorious person in our Jiang Jia.”
Zhao Xian sat down on the stool, and Nanny He, smiling, handed a brocade box to Chilan.
Zhao Xian sipped the tea served by Danruo, glanced at the brocade box, and said, “It was just finished. See if you like it.”
Chilan held the somewhat heavy brocade box, cradling it in one arm while opening the lid with the other.
Inside were two pearl-wrapped hairpins with filigree, with pearls as petals, rubies as stamens, and sapphires adorning the wings. Two lifelike kites picking flowers adorned the surface.
Even without wearing them in her hair, she could imagine how stunning they would look once adorned, with the tassels dangling from the ends.
“Mother, this…”
Li Lianniang looked up at Zhao Xian. In recent days, her mother-in-law had treated her exceptionally well, often sending gifts.
But a full set of facial ornaments—she herself had never owned such a thing and was hesitant to accept it.
“You’ll need to dress up after your confinement. Pearls symbolize wealth and suit you.” In the book, the tragic heroine’s dowry was meager, forcing her to copy books and paint to save money before her divorce—how pitiful.
“But Mother, this set of ornaments is too precious.”
“Precious? You went through so much hardship giving birth to Xiu Jie’er. It’s just a set of ornaments.”
Zhao Xian shifted the topic, looking at Jiang Wei: “Wei’er, what gift have you prepared for your wife? She gave birth to your daughter—how much she suffered.”
Lately, while reviewing the accounts, she noticed Jiang Wei not only privately bought things for Cui Tingyue but also used household funds to support her. The monthly expenses for medicine alone were substantial.
As the daughter of a benefactor who sacrificed her life, this was all justified.
But as a husband, showing no concern for his wife and daughter was excessive.
Failing to distinguish between closeness and distance—he deserved the Chasing Wife Crematorium.
Jiang Wei was taken aback and said, “Lianniang enjoys writing. I’ll give her my Hui inkstick.”
Zhao Xian lowered her head to drink tea, recalling a similar scene in the book, which occurred later during the pursuit of his wife.
Jiang Wei also gifted an inkstick, claiming he made it himself, with both their names inscribed on it.
After so many years of marriage, it seemed as though he had only just discovered his wife’s love for writing and painting.
The book’s plot had advanced so much earlier.
It seemed the tragic heroine kept too much to herself, never fighting or demanding—now it had come to this.
Jiang Wei was growing increasingly puzzled by his mother. Nanny He said it was because Li Lianniang’s childbirth reminded her of the hardships she endured giving birth to him.
Having heard so much lately about the dangers of childbirth for women, he dared not argue with his mother. Instead, he simply carried Xiu Jie’er to the outer room.
Before leaving, Jiang Wei glanced at Li Lianniang.
It was as if they were exchanging secret signals.
Zhao Xian saw it but pretended not to notice, averting her gaze.
Author’s Note: