“Cuier, come—let’s go take a look.”
“Yes, Miss—”
Su Qing’er corrected her gently, “You forgot again. Don’t call me Miss.”
“Yes, Young Madam. This servant misspoke—I deserve punishment.” Cuier pretended to slap herself.
Su Qing’er quickly stopped her and tapped her forehead with a smile. “You know I would never strike you.”
Laughing together, the two walked out.
“Greetings, Young Madam!”
“Greetings, Young Madam!”
Servants bowed respectfully wherever she passed.
Within half a day, word had spread throughout the residence: the Young General adored his wife to the bone—if she asked for the moon, he would fetch it from the sky.
The household servants had long mastered the art of observing favor and acting accordingly. Seeing how cherished the new Young Madam was from the moment she entered, many began calculating how best to curry favor. If the Young General were to establish his own household in the future, it might mean new opportunities for them.
Su Qing’er gave Cuier a subtle look and acknowledged each servant in turn. Since she was to put down roots here, she would need to understand everyone. Cuier silently took note as well.
As they passed the long corridor, a wave of fragrance drifted toward them.
The moment they entered the rear garden, Su Qing’er froze.
Though Cuier had warned her, she was still unprepared for the sight.
This was no longer a garden—it was a carpet woven entirely of flowers.
Blossoms covered every inch of ground. There was hardly a place to step.
Flowers of every color bloomed in riotous abundance, their rich scent filling the air. Leaves and petals obscured the stone path entirely.
Just then, the gardener approached and bowed. “Greetings, Young Madam. I am Zhang Laosi, the gardener. I have served the Chen family for thirty years.”
His beard was white; he was well advanced in age.
Su Qing’er quickly helped him up. “Uncle Zhang, these flowers…”
The old gardener chuckled. “They were all purchased just now by Jinghan—ah, by the Young General.”
“I see. Thank you for your hard work. Please carry on.”
Her suspicion confirmed, she returned to her room both amused and exasperated.
Inside, she gave Cuier a mild scolding. Cuier protested that she had merely mentioned her former preferences; who could have predicted the Young General would buy nearly the entire market’s supply?
Su Qing’er sighed softly. “Once this spreads, who knows what people will say?”
Cuier looked puzzled. “Young Madam, doesn’t this show how much the Young General cherishes you? Isn’t that a good thing?”
Su Qing’er said nothing. A faint headache throbbed at her temples. After sitting quietly for a while, she claimed to feel unwell and lay down to rest.
Coincidentally, her parents-in-law had gone out, granting her some peace. Cuier attended her as she slept.
Two hours later, Chen Jinghan returned from court and headed straight for their chamber.
“Wife? Wife?” he called loudly.
Cuier stopped him at the door. “Young Madam feels unwell and is resting.”
At once, he grew anxious and pushed inside. Seeing Qing’er asleep, he dragged over a stool and sat beside her. Rubbing his hands together nervously, he gently touched her forehead.
Not hot. Her complexion was rosy. She did not appear ill.
Only then did he step outside to question Cuier, who explained everything since the visit to the garden.
Realizing his flower-buying stunt had caused this, he dismissed the maids and quietly returned to sit by the bedside, waiting for her to wake.
Su Qing’er stirred and slowly opened her eyes. Seeing him so close, she hastily tried to rise, but he pressed her shoulder gently.
“Wife, you’re frail. Rest a bit longer.”
“I’m fine. Don’t listen to Cuier’s gossip. Have Father and Mother returned?” she insisted, determined not to give her mother-in-law further cause for criticism.
He reluctantly let her sit up. “They’ve gone to Yunji Temple to offer incense. They’ll stay overnight. You can sleep as long as you like.”
“How can that be? Etiquette must still be observed. Even if they aren’t home, one cannot behave carelessly,” she replied seriously.
“Yes, yes, you’re right.” He did not argue. “I only feel sorry for you and wanted you to rest.”
Her cheeks reddened at his words.
After staring at her radiant face for a long moment, he blurted awkwardly, “Wife, you’re as beautiful as a peony.”
She couldn’t help laughing. What an odd compliment. But since he mentioned flowers, she seized the opportunity.
“General, about the flowers in the rear garden—”
He interrupted, unusually solemn. “Madam, ‘General’ is what those soldiers call me. You should call me Husband.”
His eyes were bright and intent, fixed directly on hers as though seeking her innermost thoughts.
“I… I…” She faltered, heart racing.
He stepped closer, smiling softly. “If ‘Husband’ is too difficult, you may call me Jinghan.”
He stood so near she could feel his breath. A strange pressure seemed to surround her.
She would have to change her form of address eventually.
Biting her lip, she whispered almost inaudibly, “Husband.”
The moment he heard those two words, joy surged through him. He nearly reached out to draw her into his arms.
But her eyes resembled those of a startled fawn.
He restrained himself.
Better to wait until she laid aside all her guard.
Though he had never been so intimate with a woman before, years on the battlefield had sharpened his ability to read subtle signals.
He remembered their wedding day—how her body trembled faintly in his arms, how stiff she had been.
Even then, he had known she was afraid.
But was she afraid of the marriage? Of him? Or of the Chen family?
During the ceremony, he had secretly watched her. She performed each step carefully, yet something in her bearing suggested reluctance.
Leaving the banquet to bring her food had been his attempt to soothe her, to ease her fear.
He had once resisted marrying a daughter of a scholarly clan. But having married her, he would treat her well.
She had done nothing wrong—only been chosen by the Emperor to become his bride.
He might still have the vast battlefield beyond their small household, but she, willingly or not, now had only him to rely upon.
Even before unveiling her face, on the journey to fetch the bride, he had resolved: whether beautiful or plain, gentle or sharp-tempered, once she became his wife, he would give her his whole heart and provide her a warm home.
And when the veil lifted—revealing such fragile beauty, tears shimmering in her eyes—his heart had ached.
Silently, he vowed:
Qing’er, don’t be afraid. With me here, no one will ever bully you.