“Pa, our little wife’s awake?”
Before long, Wang Baozi walked in, holding a chipped bowl, his face lit with excitement.
Wang Baozi looked to be in his twenties, his features nearly identical to his father’s—as if carved from the same mold.
The father and son lived deep in the mountains, in a secluded hollow with only five or six other households, all dirt-poor and struggling to afford wives.
Back then, Old Wang had “rented” a wife just to father Wang Baozi, and the two had depended on each other ever since.
Now that Wang Baozi was well into his twenties, he wanted to rent a wife too, but the family had no money. The thought gnawed at him daily.
Who knew the heavens would drop a gift right into their laps? They had stumbled upon a little wife of their own.
The man who’d brought her said they could have the girl for free—but under a few conditions.
First, she absolutely could not die.
If she was ever injured badly enough to risk her life, they had to treat her. The man had even left them two taels of silver for medical expenses.
He also said he’d return once a year to check on her. If the medical costs ran over, he’d reimburse them.
Second, they could not actually do anything with the girl unless he gave his approval.
If they kept their word, he’d reward them with another two taels every year.
If they disobeyed? He’d kill them.
The man had made a throat-slitting gesture, terrifying them on the spot.
Lastly, they had to keep all of this a secret.
Wang Baozi thought the man was strange, but he didn’t care.
If they just waited a few years, they’d have a woman to bear them children, carry on their bloodline.
Later, they could even rent her out to others—three to five taels per child she bore for someone else…
This girl was their golden goose. They had to raise her well!
Grinning, Wang Baozi approached the bed, revealing a mouthful of crooked teeth.
“Little wife, eat up! I made you egg soup!”
“I used a whole half-egg just for you! It’s good for you!”
He blew on the bowl, sending a spray of spit into the watery broth.
Meanwhile, Huang Yaning had already figured it out—she’d been sold again!
Peach—no, that bitch!
Damn her!
Staring at the two men leering at her like wolves eyeing fresh meat, at that pitiful excuse for egg soup swimming in saliva—
Rage and terror surged through her, overwhelming her senses.
Then everything went black.
…..
“Eldest Brother, please… help me.”
“If I don’t bear a son, I’ll lose my position as Princess Consort…”
Sheng Mingjian had a bizarre dream.
In it, he saw himself—grown up—and Mingzhu.
And Mingzhu was begging him… for a child!
His mind exploded.
How could this be?!
But what shocked him most was that his older self actually reached out, tenderly cupping Mingzhu’s face… and agreed.
As the bed curtains fell, Sheng Mingjian watched his future self—
“AH—!”
He jolted awake, gasping for air, his body weak.
This dream felt like a nightmare. It was too horrifying!
In the dream, Mingzhu called herself “Princess Consort.” The only prince close to his age was Prince Qi.
Did that mean Mingzhu would marry Prince Qi and become his consort?
But with the Sheng family’s status, how could she ever qualify?
And what was this about a child?!
The memory of what followed made his face burn.
Strangely, though, the initial fear faded, replaced by a thrill he couldn’t name.
The realization sent a chill through his feverish body.
Yet every time he recalled the dream, his body reacted completely differently.
Hot and cold flashes wracked him, his mind a tangled mess.
“Young Master, what’s wrong?”
Qingxin rushed in at the noise, her voice laced with concern.
Sheng Mingjian forced himself to steady. “How long was I asleep?”
“Less than an hour…”
Today was New Year’s Eve. Since the family would stay up late, everyone had retired to their rooms after lunch to rest—usually for two or three hours.
After waking, they’d freshen up, change into new clothes, and gather for the reunion feast.
Once the meal ended, tea and sweets would be served as the family celebrated together, staying awake until midnight, when they’d eat again to welcome the new year.
The master and mistress would hand out red envelopes to the children and rewards to the servants. Once the festivities ended, the young masters and misses could finally rest—though the adults would keep vigil until dawn.
“There’s still time, Young Master. Perhaps you should rest a little longer…”
But Sheng Mingjian felt filthy, unsettled. “No. Prepare a bath.”
Qingxin nearly jumped for joy.
Sheng Mingjian had two attendants:
-
Gaoshan, fifteen, sharp and resourceful. Earlier, hearing that a certain rouge shop in the capital was releasing a new product today, the young master had sent him out to buy it.
-
Jingxing, ten, who usually shadowed Sheng Mingjian and handled tasks like bathing.
But since the young master had been resting, Jingxing had slipped away to wash up—never expecting his master to wake so suddenly.
For Qingxin, this was a golden opportunity to get closer to him. She barely stifled a grin as she ordered the hot water.
Once everything was ready, she spoke, a hint of shyness in her voice.
“This servant will assist Young Master with his bath…”
Sheng Mingjian, sticky with sweat and irritable, snapped, “No. Wait outside.”
When she hesitated, his childish face darkened, his gaze turning venomous.
“What, do my orders mean nothing to you?”
Qingxin didn’t understand why he was so angry, but she didn’t dare argue. She retreated in a panic.
Still, she consoled herself:
It’s fine. The young master is still young. There will be other chances.
