After eating roasted lamb for three days in a row, Prince Yiren finally couldn’t help but ask, “Where did this lamb come from? Why is there so much of it?”
“Hmm?” Zhao Xuwan held a lamb leg, looking innocent as she glanced at Yiren. “It was sent over from that side.”
When Zhao Xuwan said “that side,” she usually meant Shangren. After learning that Zhao Xuwan was pregnant, Shangren sent over many things every few days—lamb, chicken, fish, and even some clothes. They even wanted to send more servants.
However, Zhao Xuwan didn’t accept the servants. After all, her husband was famously averse to having too many people around, so she had to ask him before accepting anyone.
But before she could bring it up, Yiren spoke first. “We’ll find two Binu later. When you’re further along in your pregnancy, they can help you with things.”
Previously, there had been no Binu in this household. The only cook was a mute woman, and Zhao Xuwan handled everything herself. Yiren now felt this wasn’t ideal, so he didn’t refuse Shangren’s offer to send Binu.
Zhao Xuwan, however, felt somewhat uneasy. On one hand, she had lived as a Shuren for eighteen years, and suddenly having someone serve her was extremely uncomfortable. On the other hand, in her previous life, she was a modern person. Although there were nannies in modern times, they were nothing like the Nubi of this era.
“I’ll follow your wishes, Prince,” Zhao Xuwan said softly, silently repeating to herself the phrase, “Under someone else’s roof, one must lower their head.”
“Change how you address me,” Yiren said with a smile. This time, it wasn’t a cold smirk or a scornful laugh.
Zhao Xuwan looked up at him. In the dimly lit room, his striking eyes seemed particularly bright.
“Well, ordinary couples usually call their husbands ‘liangren,’ which is much more intimate than ‘Prince,’” Yiren said, resting his chin on his hand. “We’ve been married for several months now, and our child is about to be born. It’s not good to remain so formal.”
“Yes,” Zhao Xuwan replied, feeling somewhat frustrated. The cold, indifferent man from before seemed to have vanished, and now he spoke as if she weren’t even human.
She had thought she could finally catch her breath once he left, but to her surprise, Yiren stayed home the entire day. He either watched Zhao Xuwan weave or sat staring blankly at a scroll of books, clearly troubled by something.
As she wove, Zhao Xuwan muttered, “A man’s heart is as deep as the ocean.”
001 fanned the flames beside her. “Take this chance to comfort him. Maybe you’ll win over a handsome man.”
Zhao Xuwan paused, holding the silk thread in her hand. She looked conflicted. “What? How do your eyes work? Him? A handsome man?”
In Zhao Xuwan’s eyes, a frail man who gasped for breath even in bed—handsome?
Unless she had no other choice, she’d rather not.
001 fell silent for a few seconds before muttering, “Why is this different from what I read in books?”
“What books? Mary Sue and Long Aotian?” Zhao Xuwan continued weaving without stopping, her words sharp. “Besides deceiving naive girls, who else can they fool? Look, I’ve read plenty of time-travel novels. What good did they do? I ended up in the Warring States period, knowing no one, unable to read, eating coarse food, and without even a piece of paper.”
The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. But even in her anger, she continued Wansi. These silks were sent by Shangren and were extremely expensive. No matter how angry she was, she couldn’t ruin them.
Along with the silks, two Binu were also sent over. They were young, around Zhao Xuwan’s age, and had been sold by their families to become slaves.
When they were brought over, both girls looked uneasy. Zhao Xuwan didn't say much, just told them to look around and ask if they didn't understand anything. There weren't many rules in the household, and few people. Aside from the master's study and the couple's bedroom, which were off-limits, they could go anywhere else.
Seeing Zhao Xuwan's gentle demeanor, the two maids gradually relaxed. Although the master always seemed cold, they were serving the mistress, so the master's attitude didn't matter much to them.
"You are Yun, and you are Yu," Zhao Xuwan randomly pointed, giving them the simplest names.
Yun was a round-faced girl, while Yu was the taller of the two.
When they were first sold, like Zhao Xuwan, they had dry, yellowish hair and frail bodies.
Zhao Xuwan affectionately patted their heads. "Tonight, we'll have meat soup."
It was an unwritten rule that when the masters ate well in the evening, the servants would also eat better.
Hearing this, the two girls swallowed hard. Yun stepped forward boldly and said, "I can help the mistress with silk reeling for you."
This task was quite complicated, and most people lacked the patience for it, so it was usually left to the servants.
"Good," Zhao Xuwan smiled. With two more helpers, there was hope for the sweet potatoes.
With someone to help, Zhao Xuwan went to check on the paper pulp she had been soaking.
"What are you doing?"
Zhao Xuwan turned around and found herself face-to-face with Yiren, startling her so much that her hands trembled uncontrollably.
"Just checking on the soaking pulp," Zhao Xuwan heard herself say stiffly.
"Oh," Yiren wasn't very interested. Holding a scroll of books, he said, "I'm thinking of names for the child. Would you like to listen?"
Zhao Xuwan put down the jar and followed Yiren to the study.
"Look," Yiren wrote a few characters on a piece of silk fabric and pointed them out to Zhao Xuwan.
"…"
Zhao Xuwan closed her eyes, taking a long time before she looked up and met Yiren's gaze.
His eyes were filled with laughter, clearly intentional.
Gritting her teeth, Zhao Xuwan took a few steps forward until she was close to Yiren. Taking a few deep breaths, she suppressed her discomfort. "The Prince is teasing me again, aren't you~"
She dragged out the last syllable, making both Zhao Xuwan and Yiren shudder simultaneously.
"Ahem, ahem," Yiren admitted he had intended to tease her a little, but he hadn't expected Zhao Xuwan to take such an unexpected approach, leaving both of them feeling awkward.
"My apologies to the mistress," Yiren's expression returned to normal. "How about I teach you to read instead?"
"Really?" Zhao Xuwan asked in surprise. Since arriving here, she had indeed been illiterate. During the Warring States period, after centuries of division, each state had its own laws, languages, and scripts. The State of Zhao, where Zhao Xuwan lived, used the Jin script, which had undergone several changes. To Zhao Xuwan, it looked like incomprehensible scribbles—she couldn't recognize a single character.
"Why not?" Yiren raised an eyebrow. "If you're willing, I'll teach you."
Zhao Xuwan was naturally willing. Who wanted to be illiterate if they could learn? Before, she hadn't had the opportunity, but now that she did, she was determined to study.
"First, I'll teach you your name," Yiren found a piece of silk fabric and wrote it out with a brush.
"By the way, what does the 'wan' in your name mean?" Yiren suddenly asked with interest.
"Probably because my mother gave birth to me at night," Zhao Xuwan replied.
In her modern life, the character "wan" in her name carried this meaning—her mother had a difficult labor, struggling through the day before finally giving birth to her in the evening. Here in ancient times, she was also born at night. Her family initially called her Mengnü, but once she could speak, she changed her own name to Wan, meaning "evening," similar to her modern name.
It was also a way to remind herself not to forget her modern life, just in case she ever returned one day.
"Quite fitting," Yiren remarked.
"Then, my lord, what about you?" Zhao Xuwan looked at him. "This humble one still doesn’t know your name."
This was a bold test. Zhao Xuwan wanted to gauge just how much patience and tolerance the Prince had for her. If it wasn’t enough…
"Me?" Yiren’s eyes held surprise. "As for me, I’m called Yiren. My birth was rather tumultuous, and my father believed I was different from ordinary people, so he named me Yiren."
Beneath the calm tone lay hidden turbulence. Zhao Xuwan couldn’t tell whether the Prince liked or resented this name, but seeing how the silk fabric on the table was nearly crumpled to shreds, she guessed he probably disliked it.
"Ah, parents are all like that," Zhao Xuwan said, as if she had found an outlet for complaint. "Think about how my Mother used to call me Mengnü. Just because I was the eldest, was that any reason to name me that? At least put some thought into it!"
She grumbled while glancing at the Prince.
Yiren hadn’t expected this turn in the conversation. His thoughts about his own name faded as he focused on Zhao Xuwan’s story. "So how did you change it later?"
"Ah," Zhao Xuwan stifled a laugh. "One day, I overheard a group of children arguing about whose name sounded better, and suddenly I thought of my own name. I was so angry that I went home, lay on the floor, and demanded that Father and Mother change it. Mother had no choice but to say that having a troublemaker like me was truly a misfortune for the family."
"Hahahaha!"
Zhao Xuwan awkwardly scratched her nose and averted her gaze. She had indeed been quite opinionated as a child, or perhaps she had always been a person of strong convictions—once she decided on something, she wouldn’t change her mind, including the matter of selling herself.
Suddenly, laughter echoed from the study. Yun grew concerned and stood up, ready to go and check, but Yu stopped her.
"Don’t go. Zhufu and Zhumu are inside. Have you forgotten what Lü Shang said?"
Yun paused thoughtfully before crouching back down. So it was best not to disturb them when Zhumu and Zhufu were together.
Yiren was indeed laughing comfortably, as if he had finally released a weight from his chest.
Earlier that day, he had just learned that the King of Zhao had invited the princes of various states staying in Handan to go hunting—everyone except him.
It was a slap in the face, aimed not only at Yiren but at the State of Qin as well.
After the Battle of Shangdang, with the State of Zhao intervening, it was only a matter of time before the State of Qin declared war on Zhao.
"Zhao Dan, how long can you remain so arrogant?"
Seeing that Yiren’s expression had softened, Zhao Xuwan pointed to the silk fabric and asked him to teach her characters.
Zhao Xuwan had initially thought that with her sharp mind, she could at least learn many characters. But after seeing how the character for "wan" was written, she was completely defeated.
Such a difficult character with such complex strokes—was this something she could ever master?
"Read more, look more, practice more. Writing it with your eyes closed will come in time."
Zhao Xuwan covered her face. "I’d rather go do silk reeling."
Being illiterate was just fine, really. Don’t try to persuade her to strive for more.
"Pfft." Seeing her bury her head, Yiren burst into laughter once again.
How had I never noticed before? I always thought someone so quiet and reserved could never be so eloquent.
Zhao Xuwan genuinely wanted to get back to work, but Yiren was suddenly in high spirits and pulled her back, only letting her go after learning both their names.
Exhausted both physically and mentally, Zhao Xuwan made it to dinner that evening. Tonight, it was lamb soup. Yiren thought eating roasted lamb every day was too "heating" (he firmly refused to admit it was his own weakness). Zhao Xuwan was too mentally drained to argue, so she simply went along with whatever he said.
Yet, a vague feeling lingered in her mind, telling her she had forgotten something. But what had she forgotten?
Forget it. Watching the lamb soup being served, Zhao Xuwan shook her head. Maybe she had been reading too much and her mind was foggy. What was there to forget? The sweet potato seedlings were still being cultivated, her paper pulp was soaking nicely, and the Prince had been in a good mood today. No need to watch anyone’s expression—aside from studying, it had truly been a wonderful day.
Author’s Note:
Eating too much lamb can cause "excessive internal heat."
Edict of King Zhuangxiang of Qin: After discussing names with Wan, we became extremely cautious about naming our child, afraid we might become the kind of parents who are resented in the future. "After all, we both have such strong grievances about our own names—we can’t let our child end up the same way. What difference would that make from an endless curse?" Wan said, and I found her reasoning very sound.