Chapter 5: Return to the Jiang Family Part 2

Back then it was the era when Jiang Sheng fought his brother eight hundred times a day. Into this household came, abruptly, a quiet boy who doted on him endlessly, and Jiang Sheng was over the moon—every night he’d hug his pillow and trot after Xiao-ge, insisting on sleeping in his room.

Later, Father Jiang and Mother Jiang grew busy with business, and Jiang Feng was deep in his gaming phase, shouting daily about going pro.

Add it all up, and it was practically Lu Yan who raised Jiang Sheng.

The two had been close since childhood, so growing up and marrying… seemed only natural, water finding its course.

And precisely because of that, their bond ran too deep. The whole Jiang Family worried that with Lu Yan gone, grief might drive Jiang Sheng to do something unthinkable.

Father Jiang and Mother Jiang wanted to take him abroad, but Jiang Sheng refused point-blank: that was his and Lu Yan’s home; he would not leave it.

Fortunately, though he cried day and night, he hadn’t done anything drastic.

And then the accident happened anyway.

Jiang Sheng strove to change the subject. “Enough about me—what about you? Did you come over right after the car accident? How many days ahead of me are you?”

Lu Yan had died only eight days before Jiang Sheng, so naturally he assumed Lu Yan had simply arrived in Great Gan eight days earlier.

He twisted his head this way and that, looking around. “You’re luckier than me—you became a prince!”

Lu Yan gave a soft laugh.

He didn’t explain, only ruffled Jiang Sheng’s hair.

“If I’d known you were coming, I’d have tried harder and become Emperor.” Not too late even now.

It wasn’t eight days. It was eight full years.

In a world without Jiang Sheng, he had endured eight long years, climbing over countless rivers of blood and mountains of corpses to reach today’s position.

Meeting Jiang Sheng again, it had all been worth it.

Only with power and standing could he protect his Shengsheng.

That night was a sleepless one for many.

In the Jiang Manor, some were thrilled, some lay awake till dawn, wondering whether the North-Guarding Prince’s Manor might deliver Jiang Sheng’s corpse by morning. Commandery Prince Ying and the Empress Dowager in the palace likewise mused: if Lu Yan couldn’t hold back and killed the man tonight, tomorrow they’d have the perfect pretext.

Cheng Jing, Cheng Yu, and the Divine Doctor set up a table in the side hall and drank themselves sideways, still failing to figure out what had gotten into the Prince. Love at first sight, perhaps?

Only Jiang Sheng, indoors, slept like a log.

He hadn’t slept well in ages. Since Lu Yan’s death he’d lain awake all night, nightmares behind every closed eye; the rare dreams of Lu Yan woke him crying. Since transmigrating to Great Gan, not one night of sound sleep.

Today, at last, he lay in his husband’s arms.

Jiang Sheng hugged one of Lu Yan’s arms tight, sleeping soundly—lean in close and you could hear tiny snores.

Like a cat in familiar surroundings, unable to help relaxing, melting into a little cat pancake.

Lu Yan, however, dared not close his eyes at all.

One arm around Jiang Sheng, he simply watched him, and every little while lowered his head to kiss Jiang Sheng’s cheek, his nose.

Truly terrified that one blink would turn it all back into a dream.

Only at daybreak did Lu Yan ease himself up. The moment he moved, Jiang Sheng showed signs of waking; Lu Yan quickly gentled further, patting his back softly, lulling him back down.

Utterly the treatment of a newborn baby.

Not daring to wake Jiang Sheng, he went to the side hall to wash and change. Cheng Jing had drunk too much the night before; today was Cheng Yu’s shift. He hemmed and hawed for a long while and still couldn’t get half a word out.

With Jiang Sheng not beside him, Lu Yan couldn’t be bothered to perform. “If you have something to say, say it.”

Cheng Yu thought: you asked for it.

He shut his eyes and blurted, “Your Highness—what about that Young Master Jiang? Where should we house him?”

He also wanted to ask what on earth happened last night, but truly didn’t dare.

Lu Yan frowned. “What Young Master Jiang? From now on he is the master of this manor. My Princess Consort naturally sleeps with me. Next month I will request an edict from the palace; Jiang Sheng and I will hold our grand wedding.”

Cheng Yu’s jaw dropped.

What?

Had he heard right?

A grand wedding?

Cheng Yu was a straight-shooter, one track mind; he muttered involuntarily, “But you said before, the moment they entered the manor, kill them. You even said you’d give them to me…”

Halfway through, a chill swept over him as he realized what he’d just said. Cheng Yu clamped his mouth shut, looked up into Lu Yan’s glacial stare, and dropped to his knees. “This subordinate spoke out of turn.”

Lu Yan warned coldly, “Another word out of line and you can go collect your own beating. Keep that mouth shut from now on, or you’ll be demoted to Army Cook.”

Cheng Yu nodded rapidly. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Then he watched, helpless, as his Prince veered into the kitchen. Cheng Yu didn’t dare follow, standing dutifully at the door—but he could still see Lu Yan wielding a cleaver, chopping vegetables.

The cooks stood in a row nearby, not daring to breathe.

Who could make the Prince cook with his own hands? Even the Empress Dowager probably didn’t get this treatment.

Many years out of practice, his hands were a bit slow. Back home they’d had a chef, but whenever Lu Yan had time, he cooked himself—and Jiang Sheng loved his cooking best.

His wife had suffered so much, swallowed so much grievance. Lu Yan wanted to make the things he loved, so Jiang Sheng could be a little happier.

Unfamiliar motions made it slower going.

Meanwhile, Jiang Sheng had woken.

He sleepily stretched a foot out to kick beside him—empty. Instantly wide awake, Jiang Sheng scrambled up, bewildered.

Where was Husband?

His great big husband, where was he?

Could yesterday have been a hallucination, scared up before being made into a human-skin lantern?

White-faced with fright, Jiang Sheng ran out barefoot. He pushed the door open—two servants stood guard outside. Assuming they’d come to seize him, he jumped, but the servants knelt first. “Master.”

“Master, why aren’t you wearing shoes?”

One moved to fetch shoes; Jiang Sheng instinctively backed a step—then suddenly seized the opening and bolted.

Where was Lu Yan?

The manor was enormous; the moment he was outside he was lost. The servants, seeing him run out barefoot, hurried after him.

Fortunately Lu Yan was just walking back, and ran right into him. The man’s face changed; he scooped Jiang Sheng straight up into his arms, voice low. “Running out without even your shoes?”

Jiang Sheng’s eyes were red. “I couldn’t find you. I thought it was a dream.”

Lu Yan melted instantly.

Carrying him back, he murmured, “I’m sorry, baby. My fault. I should have stayed with you.”

Jiang Sheng pouted. “It IS your fault.”

The servants knelt with heads bowed, not daring to look up, only scrambling up to follow once the pair had gone inside.

Their first time seeing the North-Guarding Prince wait on someone—and waiting on him so meticulously: wiping his feet dry with a cloth, dressing him, washing him, finally carrying him to the table.

Ancient seasonings couldn’t match modern ones; producing a whole table of Jiang Sheng’s favorites was no small feat.

Jiang Sheng’s eyes shone. “You made this?”

Lu Yan gave an “mm,” ladling him soup first. “Don’t know if it still tastes the same.”

Jiang Sheng took a sip, licked his lips, and smiled. “Delicious.”

Lu Yan quietly relaxed inside.

As long as the taste hadn’t changed. He’d feared it would be off and make Jiang Sheng suspicious—then reconsidered: his family’s little dummy probably wouldn’t think that far.

Even normally, Lu Yan disliked having attendants at his meals; now, eating breakfast with his wife, he wouldn’t tolerate a single extra soul. His own wife, he’d serve himself. No one else needed.

Jiang Sheng had overeaten last night and wasn’t very hungry; Lu Yan coaxed a little into him before Jiang Sheng couldn’t wait any longer. “When are we going to the Jiang Family?”

At the mention of the Jiang Family, the man’s eyes dimmed. He lifted Jiang Sheng onto a small couch, changed the dressing on his ankle, and only then said softly, “What’s the rush? Besides, you needn’t go yourself.”

He looked up and smiled at Jiang Sheng. “Your husband is the North-Guarding Prince now. Handling people like that is effortless.”

Mainly, with Jiang Sheng present, he couldn’t be as bloody as he liked.

Jiang Sheng fussed. “No, I want to go, I want to go!”

Lu Yan was a bit helpless. He’d known Jiang Sheng wouldn’t give up easily—he’d been like this as a child. Whenever Lu Yan settled a score for him, Jiang Sheng insisted on standing by with hands on hips, chin raised high.

That bratty little sight made his enemies grind their teeth—and made Lu Yan’s teeth itch too, though in his case from wanting to kiss him for being too cute.

Seeing Lu Yan still refusing, Jiang Sheng wriggled on the couch, whining, “You don’t love your wife anymore, is that it? You become a prince and throw away your wife?”

Afraid he’d aggravate his ankle, Lu Yan reached out and held him still, forced to concede. “Fine, fine. Everything as the Little Ancestor says.”

Jiang Sheng turned obedient in an instant, eyes sparkling up at him. “Then let’s go! Right now!”

Lu Yan frowned. “At least two days’ rest. Your foot isn’t healed.”

“No, I want to go NOW! I’ll hop there if I have to.” Jiang Sheng clenched his little fists. “I talked big when I left—said I’d have my husband come settle accounts with them. I can’t go back on my word.”

Lu Yan: “…” Is that how you use “going back on one’s word”?

But he knew Jiang Sheng: refuse today, and the man would raise heaven and earth.

“Fine, let’s go. I’ll have the carriage readied.”

Jiang Sheng let out a joyful little “woohoo” like a puppy.

He was extraordinarily excited.

Growing up, everyone in their circle knew he was the Jiang Family’s young master, CEO Lu’s wife—no one dared provoke him carelessly.

Jiang Sheng had lost so many chances to show off.

It was like forbidding a peacock to fan its tail.

Downright cruel.

Normally he could only bully his brother.

Now, finally, a chance to hold his head high—he’d have ridden on Lu Yan’s shoulders all the way back to the Jiang Family if he could.

As it happened, today was a rest day, and Old Master Jiang was home. Early that morning, he couldn’t help sending someone to inquire whether the North-Guarding Prince’s Manor had made any moves.

The servant never came back.

Uneasy, he paced back and forth.

Truthfully, when he’d prepared to use Jiang Sheng as a pawn, he’d never intended for this son to live. But since death was death, it was a question of which death held the most value—which death would satisfy Commandery Prince Ying and the Empress Dowager.

This morning his eyelids had been twitching since he rose, like something was about to happen.

Before Old Master Jiang could puzzle it out, the steward came sprinting in panic. “Master! Master—”

He frowned. “What’s the panic! What happened?”

The steward trembled. “The Second Young Master has returned.”

Old Master Jiang froze, and seeing the steward scared witless, couldn’t help asking, “Man or ghost?”

Could the North-Guarding Prince really have killed him?

But in broad daylight, even a ghost wouldn’t be this brazen.

“A person… not just one person…”

Impatient, Old Master Jiang hurried toward the front gate—only to see the Jiang Manor’s doors pushed wide, ranks of Iron-Armored Guards pouring in. In the swirling dust, at the very center stood a slender figure.

Jiang Sheng.

Arms crossed, chin held high, cackling with abandon. “Scared now?”

Old Master Jiang’s lips quivered, and he dropped to his knees with a thud.

Jiang Sheng was startled. “That scared?”

And behind him, Lu Yan stood silently, the gaze he cast downward as cold as a man looking at corpses.