“I… I can’t bear to part with my husband.”
Within the boshan censer, aloeswood smoke curled upward. Behind the mother-of-pearl inlaid screen, the woman lay with her eyes closed, while the maidservant at her side sat on a low stool, kneading her legs.
On the other side of the screen, Shao Zhen knelt upright at the desk. As she set down her brush, she discreetly rotated her aching wrist. Before her lay a stack of sutras she had finished transcribing, every stroke of calligraphy neat and proper from beginning to end.
She lifted her eyes to glance at Madam Xu. The woman’s breathing was long and even, as if she had already fallen into a deep sleep—having long forgotten that in this room so quiet one could hear a pin drop, there was also her.
Yet thinking that her husband Tao would soon be returning from court, Shao Zhen hesitated, wavering between resolve and retreat, before calling out in a low voice: “Aunt, I have finished copying this volume of the Medicine Buddha Sutra.”
Before she could even receive a response from Madam Xu, the maidservant with phoenix-shaped eyes shot her a cutting glare and warned in a hushed tone: “Keep your voice down. Can’t you see the mistress is still resting?”
Shao Zhen bit her lower lip, leaving a faint row of teeth marks on the soft flesh. “Yes.”
This maidservant was Madam Xu’s personal attendant, deeply trusted and favored by her mistress. Everyone in the household gave her a measure of deference.
Shao Zhen dared not argue with her directly.
No sooner had she spoken than Madam Xu slowly stirred awake, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
The maidservant hurried to curry favor, asking: “Did the mistress sleep well?”
“Passable,” Madam Xu replied dismissively, her gaze drifting toward Shao Zhen, who seemed to have something on the tip of her tongue. “Since you’ve finished copying the sutras, you should head back now. If Wenkan asks, you know what to say.”
The woman’s tone was neither heavy nor light, but how could Shao Zhen fail to hear the warning beneath her words?
She murmured her assent. As she rose, her knees—which had been kneeling for over two hours—sent a sharp stab of pain through her, and she nearly toppled over again.
Bearing the ache, she walked out of the room and mustered a reassuring smile toward her own maidservant Xiaowen, who had been kept waiting outside.
But before she could release the pent-up breath lodged in her chest, she heard Madam Xu’s voice drifting faintly from within the room.
“After all, she comes from a petty, insignificant household. Even her calligraphy carries that small-minded air—utterly unfit for polite society. If not for Wenkan’s insistence on marrying her, how could our Tao family ever tolerate such a woman of no talent and no virtue?”
Shao Zhen knew full well the woman had said it deliberately for her to hear. After all, Madam Xu’s displeasure with her had always been displayed openly, without the slightest attempt at concealment.
Xiaowen’s anger surged to her throat at the words. Instinctively, she looked at Shao Zhen and, sure enough, saw her face growing paler and paler, as if she might collapse at any moment.
“Milady!”
Shao Zhen shook her head at her.
Xiaowen understood what she meant. The last time she had spoken up in complaint on Shao Zhen’s behalf, it had provoked Madam Xu’s displeasure, and in the end, it was Shao Zhen who suffered—punished under the pretext of learning proper conduct, made to kneel for an entire afternoon.
Xiaowen could only suppress her impulse, press her lips into a thin line, and support Shao Zhen as they slowly made their way through the covered corridor.
There were many maidservants and servants in the Tao household, and as the two of them passed by, gazes swept over them unabated.
Shao Zhen could, of course, feel those eyes landing on her—nothing but contempt and mockery, the sense that she was unworthy of setting foot in the wealthy, prestigious Tao residence.
Even though she was Tao Wenkan’s wife, these people paid her no mind at all.
Only when Tao Wenkan accompanied her back did Madam Xu and the other elders show any restraint.
In the year and more since marrying Tao Wenkan, she had thought herself accustomed to being wrapped in these varied gazes, yet at this moment, an indescribable humiliation still welled up in her heart.
Shao Zhen quickened her steps to leave this place that was so utterly at odds with her. Only after she had entered the carriage did she have the chance to massage her legs, which had nearly lost all feeling.
Seeing this, Xiaowen made to lift her skirt to check, but Shao Zhen stopped her: “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”
Xiaowen was the dowry maidservant she had brought from her own family. She had been with Shao Zhen since childhood and was one of the few people who treated her with genuine kindness—not sisters by blood, but as close as sisters.
The carriage driver was one of Tao Wenkan’s men, so Xiaowen could not speak ill of Madam Xu behind her back. But looking at her poor, ill-fated mistress, her eyes stung with tears, and she wished she could secretly tell Tao Wenkan about how Madam Xu had been grinding Shao Zhen down.
Yet she knew Shao Zhen’s concerns. The second branch’s Madam Xu had no sons of her own, so she had taken in Tao Wenkan—an orphan from the third branch who had lost both parents at a young age—and raised him as her own son. With such a debt of gratitude, the man naturally had to provide for Madam Xu in her old age, and could not possibly side entirely with Shao Zhen. As for Shao Zhen herself, she did not want to put Tao Wenkan in the difficult position of being caught in the middle.
That was just how her mistress was—too kind, always accustomed to swallowing her grievances in silence.
She had finally encountered a refined and gentle husband of her heart’s desire, yet little did she know that lofty households were not so easy to climb into. People’s words were like the west wind, picking her apart from head to toe, belittling her as worthless, slandering the honest, mild-mannered girl as having fed Tao Wenkan some love potion.
Xiaowen’s heart ached for her—ached that she had stepped from one predicament into another.
Shao Zhen covered her hand and patted it gently. “The life I have now is far better than when I was in the Shao household.”
At least she no longer had to endure beatings and scoldings, or go without food and clothing. And she had Tao Wenkan’s love and protection. She already felt more than content.
“It’s just that I’m dull-witted and clumsy with words, and I don’t know how to win Aunt’s favor.”
Seeing how she took every responsibility upon herself, Xiaowen sighed, knowing that her current temperament was entirely the doing of those wicked people in the Shao family.
The carriage wheels turned, and soon they arrived before the residence. Though it was not as grand and imposing as the Tao mansion with its carved beams and painted rafters, it was more than ample for the couple.
Thinking of how Tao Wenkan had insisted on marrying her with full ceremony despite all opposition, and had noticed her discomfort in the Tao household and brought her to live outside—a warm current flowed through Shao Zhen’s limbs.
No matter how the people of the Tao family treated her, her husband was exceedingly good to her.
Catching sight of Tao Wenkan’s handsome face smiling in the distance, the sense of grievance in her heart surged up like a tide. Shao Zhen’s nose tingled with emotion, and she ran toward her husband like a young swallow returning to its nest.
As dusk fell, he stood in his official robes, backlit by the afterglow, striding toward her with long steps. He caught her waist and, before the eyes of all, spun her around in a circle.
“Tao Lang, put me down—so many people are watching.” Realizing her own lapse in composure, Shao Zhen’s cheeks flushed with a thin layer of red.
Tao Wenkan set her down, gazing at his wife’s endearing, coquettish manner, his heart sweet as if steeped in honey.
He did not mind being seen. He interlaced his fingers with hers and walked into the residence.
The man’s hand was a full size larger than hers, the calluses on his fingers slightly rough, his scorching warmth transmitting through his palm.
“Mother didn’t give you any trouble, did she?”
Shao Zhen was not skilled at lying. At his words, her body stiffened, and she said softly, “No. Mother taught me today how to manage the household and handle domestic affairs. That way, when you are away, I can keep the house in order and give you no worries.”
Tao Wenkan’s steps suddenly halted, making Shao Zhen’s heart skip with them.
He served as Commander of the Imperial Guard in the palace and had interrogated no few assassins and ruffians—surely he had seen through her lie.
Unlike her tension, his eyes held a hint of playful amusement. He squeezed her hand and said with deliberate meaning, “Did I not tell you just last night what you should call me in private?”
At his reminder, Shao Zhen’s mind involuntarily conjured that scene of wanton, tangled bed curtains.
The man had bent down to steal her breath, kissing her until she could think of nothing else. In the haze, he had breathed low and heavy, coaxing her to say something sweet…
She had bitten her lip and refused to speak, but he had his own ways of prying open her lips and teeth.
He had kept her suspended, as if floating on clouds and about to fall at any moment—that unbearable in-between feeling had stripped her of all reason, and in the end, she had yielded to his wish.
Shao Zhen’s entire face burned, and her voice was so low it was nearly inaudible: “…Husband.”
Hearing her call him in that soft, lilting Jiangnan accent, Tao Wenkan’s breath grew heavy, and he deeply understood the meaning of “playing with fire.”
Though they had been married for over a year, when it came to her, he was still like a young lad, easily stirred into losing his composure.
And the culprit herself looked up at him with those eyes, utterly unaware of how alluring she was.
Realizing what the darkness in his gaze signified, Shao Zhen was scorched by the heat within it. She hastily pulled her hand away and changed her address: “My lord.”
Her waist was still sore—she dared not provoke him further.
Tao Wenkan appeared steady and gentle in daily life, but once on the bed, he was a different person entirely. His broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted martial frame would exhaust her until she fainted, while he emerged refreshed and glowing like spring breeze.
Knowing she was thin-skinned, and that it was indeed not the time for such thoughts in broad daylight, Tao Wenkan promptly reined in the restless beast within him. “Zhen-niang, Mother does like to put on airs, but her heart is not unkind. After all, she raised me for over a decade—please bear with her a little.”
Shao Zhen felt a bitterness at the root of her tongue, but she did not show it on her face, and followed his words with a compliant “yes.”
The household servants had already prepared dinner, with fish, meat, fruits, and vegetables laid out in finely painted bowls and dishes. Shao Zhen, preoccupied with worries, barely touched her chopsticks.
In the past, she had not been unaware of the turbulent times, but as long as the chaos did not affect her own life, she could play deaf and dumb and muddle through—after all, if the sky fell, there were taller people to hold it up.
But now Tao Wenkan had voluntarily petitioned the throne to go pacify the unrest in Lucheng, and these past days she had been so anxious she could not sit still.
She had heard of the situation in Lucheng—refugees had risen in revolt, seizing several county offices in just ten days, forcing the county magistrates to take their own lives, and even slaughtering the entire family of the commandery governor. Wherever these rioters passed, it was like a whirlwind sweeping through clouds—killing everywhere, bones left bleaching in the open, and the innocent common folk suffering unbearable hardship, plunged into misery and despair.
Thinking of how Madam Xu had just blamed her for failing to dissuade her husband, Shao Zhen felt both wronged and helpless.
Did she truly want to watch Tao Wenkan take such risks?
Her horizons were narrow, and she was easily satisfied—she only wished to stay with her husband day after day and live in peace. But she could not control Tao Wenkan’s grand ambitions to achieve merit and distinction.
Her husband was a young talent—only twenty-two this year, yet already a favored figure at the emperor’s side, the envy of countless others. Holding his position, he had to fulfill its duties; receiving the imperial salary, he bore the responsibility of defending the realm and protecting the people.
As a mere woman, all she could do was pack his bags for him, pray for him at home, and hope for his swift and safe return.
“Zhen-niang,” Tao Wenkan noticed Shao Zhen’s troubled expression from the corner of his eye and set down his chopsticks. “What’s wrong?”
Shao Zhen shook her head, then asked stubbornly, “Must you go to Lucheng, my lord?”
Afraid he might think she was being unreasonable, she added, “I… I can’t bear to part with you.”
Seeing his wife silently weeping, a hollow seemed to collapse in the man’s chest. For a single moment, he even wavered with selfish thoughts—wanting to cast aside everything and stay by Shao Zhen’s side, going nowhere at all.
But the imperial decree had already been issued. There was no turning back.
By the time the Tao family had reached his generation, their clan—though outwardly resplendent—had already fallen behind the other great houses.
The protection of their ancestors was both a sturdy shield and a fertile ground for eroding one’s will. The Taos wallowed in past glory, squandering countless hours on useless philosophical banter. Beneath the veneer of aristocratic grace and scholarly elegance, only a handful of younger members possessed any real talent.
After Empress Tao passed away from illness five years ago, the Tao family’s standing had declined even further.
He had to win this campaign. He needed military merit to earn the favor of the one on the dragon throne and restore the Tao family’s standing.
At that thought, Tao Wenkan steadied himself. He raised his hand and wiped away her glistening tears with his thumb, then pulled his petite wife tightly into his arms, his tone helpless. “Zhen-niang, I can’t bear to part with you either.”
It wasn’t that he hadn’t considered bringing Shao Zhen along. “The road is fraught with ambushes and dangers, and on the battlefield, blades and arrows have no eyes. I can’t let you endure such hardship by my side.”
The more specific details were military secrets, which he couldn’t disclose to Shao Zhen.
The Third Prince was also accompanying the main army to reinforce Lucheng—a useless fool who couldn’t lift a finger or carry a load. But since he was of imperial blood, Tao Wenkan still had to allocate a portion of his forces to protect him, lest he be charged with failing to safeguard his charge.
“I know your worries—that the Shao family might come looking for trouble while I’m away,” he said, gazing into his wife’s tearful eyes. “I’ll leave Zhu Yue behind to protect you, and I’ve arranged strong guards outside the residence as well. You’re a member of the Tao family now; I doubt they’d dare to cause you any harm.”
“Ah, and after we finish our meal, I’ll take you to meet someone.”