Jiang Chun shrank her neck.
She was used to speaking without restraint; in modern times, she had often told her besties who frequently ran into scumbag men things like, “There are thousands and thousands of men in the world, if it really doesn’t work out, we’ll just switch.” Just now, she was angered by Song Shi’an’s playing-dead behavior, her brain twitched, and it just blurted out.
After saying it, she regretted it.
This kind of mindset was too modern, completely incompatible with the male-superior, female-inferior ancient society. Even if she thought this way in her heart, she shouldn’t have said it out loud.
But Song Shi’an’s attitude was a bit strange.
In the past, she had teased him many times, saying that if he didn’t behave obediently, she’d sell him off, and he never seemed angry.
Why was he so furious this time?
She reached out and grabbed his hand, trying to pull him into the quilt.
Then her hand was flung away by him.
Jiang Chun glanced at his dark, stormy face—like the sky before a storm—and thought to herself, looks like he’s really pissed off.
She sat up, picked up the quilt draped above, wrapped it around him, and said, “Your body is weak; even if you’re angry at me, you can’t ignore your own health.”
She then pulled over another quilt and wrapped it around herself.
After that, she sat cross-legged facing him and said, “Alright, you can start criticizing me now.”
Saying the wrong thing meant you had to take the scolding. She had a good sense of self-awareness.
Getting scolded a few times was no big deal. As long as he could vent, that was fine; anyway, she could let it in her left ear and out her right.
But Song Shi’an was so angry his lungs were about to explode.
In his past life, although he had been left with a lingering illness—whenever the weather changed slightly, he would suffer a severe bout of illness—his reproductive ability had still been intact.
However, in that past life, that Jiang Chun had despised him, unwilling to consummate the marriage, and he had gone along with her.
Anyway, his second brother’s family had plenty of children, and after his death, his memorial tablet would enter the ancestral hall of the Song family. As long as the Song family line did not die out, he wouldn’t lack anyone to offer incense and pay respects.
But she had had an affair with a butcher and even gotten pregnant with that butcher’s child.
That day, when she was brought by his mother to the Duke An’s residence as a guest, she had suddenly fainted during the gathering. The people of Duke An’s residence were shocked, and they hurried to summon an imperial physician.
The imperial physician came and took her pulse, saying she was two months pregnant.
Coincidentally, that day, Empress Dowager Jiang’s health wasn’t good, and she had summoned the imperial physician. The physician who went to take her pulse was the very one who had just returned from the Duke An’s residence.
This imperial physician happened to bump into Song Shi’an, who had just finished court, and in an attempt to curry favor, loudly announced in front of the civil and military officials streaming out from the Golden Luan Hall, “Congratulations, Lord Song, congratulations, Lord Song, your esteemed wife is with child!”
His wife was with child, but the father wasn’t himself.
Song Shi’an had lived for so many years, and even though he had his family’s property confiscated, had been thrown into the imperial prison and tortured severely, had been dragged out and sold off like livestock, and had been bought by a rural butcher to become a live-in son-in-law, all these humiliations put together could not compare to the humiliation he felt in that moment.
Even so, he hadn’t intended to take Jiang Chun’s life.
As long as the child in her belly was aborted, he could find a manor to lock her up in, then announce to the outside that she had suddenly fallen ill and passed away.
This way, he could preserve his reputation, and Jiang Chun could continue to scrape by in the world.
However, just after the imperial physician left, Jiang Chun, in front of all the guests, announced that she wanted to he li [合离, a form of separation/divorce in ancient China, usually requiring agreement from both parties], and moreover, boldly admitted that the father of the child in her belly was someone else.
To rationalize her extramarital affair, she even slapped on him an utterly baseless accusation of being “not capable of being a man.”
From that moment on, his, Song Shi’an’s, reputation was utterly destroyed, and he completely became the laughingstock of the entire capital.
This lifetime’s Jiang Chun was like a different person. He thought he no longer had to experience those unbearable-to-recall matters again. Who knew that she would, in such a brazen manner, say right in front of him that she wanted to have a child with another man…
Was she trying to force him to act according to the original plan and just kill her directly?
But that was obviously impossible.
Just by looking at how she, even while arguing with him, didn’t forget to worry about him catching cold—first draping the blanket over him, then taking care of herself—he could tell that she truly cared about him.
That earlier sentence must have been her running her mouth without thinking, not that she really wanted to do so.
Jiang Chun saw his chest heaving violently, huffing and puffing, yet still not saying a word. Afraid that he’d harm his body from holding in his anger, she quickly coaxed, “Don’t just sulk silently; if you need to criticize me, then criticize me. I’ll definitely accept it humbly and correct my mistakes.”
Song Shi’an gritted his back molars. Seeing her nonchalant attitude, although it further confirmed that her earlier sentence was just a joke, how could he not feel even angrier?
Was this kind of thing something that could be joked about casually?
Jiang Chun saw him keeping a dark face and not speaking, so she leaned forward, reached out, and pulled him, blanket and all, into her arms.
Gently rocking his body, she coaxed softly in a small, submissive voice, “Alright, alright, it’s my fault. I said the wrong thing. Husband, don’t be angry anymore. If you make yourself sick from anger, my heart will ache.”
Song Shi’an said coldly, “Wouldn’t me getting angry to death suit you just fine? Then there’d be no one to stop you from going to find another man to have a child with.”
Jiang Chun wanted to say that even if he didn’t die from anger, it wouldn’t stop her from going to find another man to have a child with—but she didn’t dare run her mouth; that would definitely stir up a hornet’s nest.
She leaned in and gave him a loud kiss on the lips, smiling cheekily as she said, “I’m a picky person, you know. I only want to have a child with a top-tier beauty like Husband. As for those crooked melons and split dates [歪瓜裂枣, a saying meaning ugly or subpar men], I don’t fancy them at all.”
Song Shi’an’s lips had just been kissed, and then he heard her mouth full of honey-like flattery. The anger in his heart unknowingly subsided a bit.
If it had been before, no matter who it was—man, woman, old, or young—if they dared to use “top-tier beauty” to describe him, he would’ve blackened his face on the spot and held a grudge fiercely.
But hearing these words from Jiang Chun’s mouth, he wasn’t angry at all. In fact, he even felt a bit pleased.
Because she genuinely thought he was good-looking, speaking truthfully, without any hidden meanings or ulterior motives like others had.
But of course, he couldn’t let her off so easily. Otherwise, she’d dare to do it again next time.
He pulled out his hand and used the back of it to wipe his lips in disdain.
He said coldly, “Stop feeding me sweet-talk soup. In the past, you fed me sweet-talk soup plenty, saying things like how you’d never leave me, that you’d die together with me, and so on. And what happened?”
“Just because I’m thin-skinned and didn’t feel comfortable answering your question about having a child, you grew a second heart and wanted to go look for another man to have a child with…”
“It just shows how unreliable your words are. From now on, I’ll never believe your lies again!”
Jiang Chun had originally wanted to keep coaxing him, but he actually dragged out old grievances, even going so far as to completely negate her as a person. Her rebellious side flared up.
She couldn’t help but retort sarcastically, “Yes, yes, yes, it’s all my fault. I never tell the truth, and you’re completely without fault.”
“Oh, so being thin-skinned is something to be proud of, huh? Acting like you’re asleep and not answering my question about having a child is something to be proud of, huh? And me, with my thick skin, I just deserve to be left hanging, is that it?”
“I think my mistake wasn’t in rashly saying I wanted to find another man to have a child with, but in talking to you about these intimate topics at all.”
“From now on, we’ll speak as sparingly as gold, respect each other like honored guests, and that way we won’t argue or have conflicts—everyone will be happy!”
As she spoke, she let go of the hands she had been holding him with, lay down on the kang, and then pulled the quilt over herself, covering from head to toe.
Only leaving behind Song Shi’an, who for a moment couldn’t adapt to her flipping-face-faster-than-flipping-pages attitude, sitting there in a daze, staring at the dark-blue quilt fabric on her body.
She was just going to ignore him now?
All the bits and pieces of her past care and attention toward him floated up in his mind, and an unprecedented panic surged in his heart.
This kind of warmth—this was the first time in two lifetimes he had ever felt it. If he suddenly lost it, and could never get it back for the rest of his life, he felt it would be unbearable.
Thinking and thinking, his eyes couldn’t help but redden.
Like a child abandoned by others, he began to sob in grievance, tears rolling down his face in big, fat drops.
Jiang Chun, though lying in the quilt, had her ears pricked up, eavesdropping on the sounds outside. The more she listened, the more she felt something wasn’t right.
She secretly lifted a corner of the quilt, poked her eyes out, and peeked outside.
Then she just happened to see a big, glistening teardrop falling from Song Shi’an’s face, landing on the red quilt draped over him, immediately blooming into a dark, wet stain.
Jiang Chun thought to herself, that quilt was made by Grandma Liu, an elder invited by Jiang He, when the original host got married. The red color looked nice, but it wasn’t resistant to washing; it would fade as soon as it touched water, and tears were the same.
She shook her head, shaking away those irrelevant thoughts in her mind.
It’s just an old quilt—what’s so important about it?
What’s important is Song Shi’an—he… he’s crying…
The dignified future Grand Secretary of the Inner Cabinet, the younger brother-in-law of the new emperor, the future Duke of the State, when the Song family was raided, he didn’t cry; when he was thrown into the imperial prison and tortured for half a year, he didn’t cry; when he was demoted to an official slave and sold off, he didn’t cry—yet now, because of an argument with her, he was crying.
Is that reasonable?
Is this still the “beautiful, strong, tragic” male supporting character Song Shi’an?
What does “beautiful, strong, tragic”—yes, he’s beautiful and tragic, but he’s also strong! Not just any kind of strong, he’s her strong!
And yet her strong one is crying.
Jiang Chun practically suspected that Song Shi’an, like herself, had been possessed by some random soul from another world.
This was too much of a character collapse!
If she had dared to write such a plot back then, she probably would’ve been blasted by readers with a dozen angry comments.
She hurriedly lifted the quilt and sat up, pulled out a handkerchief from her outer garment, and while helping him wipe his tears, she gently coaxed, “Why are you crying now? You yourself said I’m a person whose mouth runs wild like horses, barely ever saying anything true. Then why did you take my lies seriously and let yourself get upset, huh? Silly or not?”
Song Shi’an snatched the handkerchief from her, wiped his tears while saying coldly, “Yes, I’m just a big fool.”
To actually take her harsh words seriously—wasn’t that just being a big fool?
She was still thinking about how in the future she could bask in the glory of being the wife of the future Grand Secretary of the Inner Cabinet. How could she possibly just stop caring about him?
He really was possessed or something, to actually shed tears over this.
Jiang Chun’s mouth twitched, and she hurriedly retorted, “No no no, Husband is the smartest person in the world. I’m the big fool here.”
Song Shi’an let out a cold snort: “Didn’t you say from now on we should speak sparingly like gold?”
Jiang Chun chuckled: “How could that be? Wouldn’t that suffocate me, a chatterbox? I love talking with Husband the most.”
As she spoke, she reached out, wanting to pull him into a hug.
Song Shi’an tossed the handkerchief onto her, giving a hmph-like laugh: “Didn’t you say, from now on, we’re to respect each other like honored guests?”
Jiang Chun threw the handkerchief aside, reached her hand under his quilt, and pulled him into her arms, smiling cheerfully as she said, “Of course that won’t do. I like Husband’s body the most.”
Song Shi’an struggled a few times in her embrace, and said lightly, “Let me go. Go sleep at the end of your own kang.”
Jiang Chun hugged him even tighter, then directly pulled him down to lie flat, pulled the quilt over them, and gently coaxed, “Alright, alright, it’s my fault, I said the wrong thing. Husband, don’t be angry anymore, alright?”
Song Shi’an didn’t say a word.
Just when Jiang Chun thought he had fallen asleep, he suddenly spoke up: “What happened tonight, me shedding tears—don’t you tell Father, and you yourself must also forget this matter. Otherwise…”
Jiang Chun grinned and asked, “Otherwise what?”
Song Shi’an said coldly, “Otherwise I’ll ga you.” [嘎, slang for “cut you off,” “kill you,” or “end you”]