Chapter 8: The House-Trained Servant

The young lord in green stood before the target, legs shaking like leaves, face white as paper.

Everyone watching held their breath.

Only the little married couple opposite kept chatting as if no one else existed.

Lu Yan’s voice was very gentle. Circling Jiang Sheng from behind, he gathered his whole wife into his arms, guiding his hands over the bow.

“This arm up a little higher. Arm and wrist in one line. Eyes forward.”

Every sentence drifted on the wind into every ear; all heads bowed, everyone thinking the same single thought.

—Truly, every pot has its lid.

They’d thought Lu Yan already the cold-faced King of Hell. Now it seemed the one from the Jiang Family was the smiling King of Hell!

No wonder they were a pair!

After adjusting his wife’s stance, Lu Yan’s lips curved slightly. Gripping his wife’s hand, he drew the bowstring taut—and at the instant of release, Jiang Sheng’s hand suddenly jerked.

The feathered arrow shot wild, and with a scream the young lord crumpled to the ground, shaking like sifted chaff, the robe beneath him visibly darkening.

A bloody line scored his cheek—the arrow had clearly grazed it in passing.

Lu Yan gave him a cold glance, withdrew his gaze, and asked his wife softly, “Still want to play?”

Jiang Sheng shook his head.

Lu Yan smiled, tossing the bow carelessly over his shoulder; Cheng Yu caught it hurriedly.

A bow touched by the Master would presumably be brought back to the manor.

“It IS boring here. Later I’ll take you to the training grounds—bigger, and you can really cut loose.”

Lu Yan coaxed his wife, voice gentle.

Jiang Sheng glanced at him, then reached out and took Lu Yan’s hand, gripping it tight.

After they’d walked a stretch, he stopped, tilted his head up, and asked earnestly, “Husband, just now—if my hand hadn’t shaken, would that arrow really have hit him?”

Lu Yan paused, looking into Jiang Sheng’s bright black eyes. His thin lips pressed together—then he suddenly smiled, reaching up to pinch his wife’s ear. “What are you thinking? Of course not. Don’t worry, I know restraint. Just scaring him. Mm?”

Jiang Sheng let out a tiny breath of relief.

Lu Yan caught his hand, kissed it, and said deliberately, “So concerned about someone else?”

And just like that Jiang Sheng’s attention was captured; he huffed softly, “What do you mean? I was worried about YOU.”

“The banquet’s about to start. Let’s go over. Hungry? The pastry chefs at Commandery Prince Ying’s Manor are excellent. When we leave, remember to bring the chef back with us.”

That last line was for Cheng Yu behind them.

Cheng Yu acknowledged at once.

Jiang Sheng, hearing this, was delighted. “Husband, are you a bandit?”

Looking at his wife’s crescent eyes, Lu Yan felt his heart itch sweetly. He’d kissed those eyes before—soft lashes, ticklish to the touch.

As long as he could look at Jiang Sheng, he wanted to pile every best and finest thing in the world at his feet.

By the time they reached the main hall, most guests had arrived. Watching Lu Yan walk in hand in hand with Jiang Sheng, countless gazes stuck to them—though Lu Yan’s fearsome name meant none dared stare long; each stole a glance under cover of indifference, then whipped away.

A rather comical sight.

Jiang Sheng wasn’t the least bit afraid of being looked at—quite the opposite: chest out, chin up, he trotted inside kitty-style.

Kitty has a husband; Kitty is proud!

The North-Guarding Prince’s seat was naturally at the very front. They’d barely sat when Commandery Prince Ying entered. He clearly already knew what had happened; his face was foul, but at the sight of Lu Yan he had to squeeze out a smile. “The North-Guarding Prince. Allow me to congratulate you on your new treasure.”

Lu Yan’s mouth twitched coldly. “Thanks.”

Commandery Prince Ying’s smile turned paper-thin. “If the Empress Dowager knew the North-Guarding Prince was so pleased with this match, she would be comforted, no doubt.”

While the two exchanged hollow courtesies, Jiang Sheng had already sneakily raised a cup of wine to his lips.

Strange—how had his tongue gone and licked it all by itself?

Ancient wine differed quite a bit from modern—not biting, mellower, with a faint sweetness.

Eyes fixed on Lu Yan, Jiang Sheng took a sneaky sip while his husband wasn’t looking. Baby takes another little sip; wife takes another little sip…

Lu Yan, wrapping up the pleasantries, turned his head for a glance—and his eyelids jumped, voice involuntarily rising. “Jiang Sheng! Who said you could drink?”

Jiang Sheng had gotten quite immersed.

The whole cup was gone. He licked his lips, and at his husband’s shout he jumped, hiccupped, and looked over dazedly.

Lu Yan snatched the cup from his hand.

It wasn’t that he policed Jiang Sheng’s drinking—it was that Jiang Sheng’s tolerance was abysmal, one-cup-and-down levels, and drunk, he was extraordinarily high-maintenance.

But at least it was in front of him.

Nothing else could go wrong.

Seeing the dazed look in Jiang Sheng’s eyes, Lu Yan, exasperated and fond, stroked his wife’s cheek, voice softening. “Feeling unwell?”

Jiang Sheng shook his head obediently, nuzzling his cheek against his husband’s palm.

Beside them, Commandery Prince Ying looked away, unable to watch. These two! In public! Such shamelessness!!

From start to finish, the little couple never spared him a single glance. Lu Yan, worried his wife felt unwell, stroked his cheek every little while, softly asking if he wanted to go home.

Jiang Sheng was annoyed to death, little face stern. “Husband, can you shut up?”

Those nearby who heard shrank back in fright, privately wondering: so the North-Guarding Prince likes them feisty?

Through the entire banquet, Lu Yan’s hands never stopped—peeling shrimp, picking fish bones. The work of serving Jiang Sheng, he never let another soul do.

Put another way: he’d waited on Jiang Sheng since childhood—he was, by rights, Jiang Sheng’s own house-trained servant. How could these people compare?

He picked the tenderest morsel from the fish belly and fed it to Jiang Sheng, coaxing, “Baby, see? No one serves you as well as I do. Right?”

Jiang Sheng chewed chewed chewed, nodded woozily. Sweet nothings to please his husband had become pure instinct—no brain required.

“Husband you’re the best, Husband you’re the greatest, Husband you’re the biggest…”

That last sentence got muffled by Lu Yan’s hand.

“There, I know. We’ll finish this conversation at home. You’re drunk.”

Jiang Sheng blinked innocently, signaling he’d keep quiet, and only then did Lu Yan tentatively lower his hand.

Whereupon Jiang Sheng stared at him for two full seconds—then abruptly keeled over, boneless, into Lu Yan’s arms.

Drunk Kitty!

The North-Guarding Prince left the banquet not long after sitting down, and everyone in the hall saw clearly: he carried his new favorite in his arms the whole way. Truly spoiled beyond reason—barely a few steps’ walk, and the man had to be carried.

Only after he’d gone did the bolder ones dare murmur.

“Scandalous.”

“The North-Guarding Prince spoils him far too much.”

“Just new romance, I expect. Give it some months and see.”

All this gossip never reached Jiang Sheng’s ears. At that moment he was clinging gooey-armed around Lu Yan’s neck, unsatisfied even being carried on the man’s back, patting his shoulder and crying, “Giddyup, giddyup—”

Cheng Yu wouldn’t have dared listen even if Jiang Sheng had let him, head buried low, a bow and arrows in hand, trailing one step behind the pair.

Finally coaxing the Little Ancestor into the carriage, Lu Yan settled him on his lap, arm locked firm around his waist lest he tumble.

The carriage rolled off, swaying.

Jiang Sheng hugged Lu Yan, jostled up and down, whining, “Husband, are we car-bouncing?”

Lu Yan, for once, actually blanked—for an instant he didn’t know what to say.

Exasperated and fond, he reached to pinch his wife’s cheek—only to see Jiang Sheng pull a long face, wriggle his bottom on his lap, and mutter, “Husband, you seem to have gotten smaller. How come I can’t feel it at all?”

The smile froze on Lu Yan’s face. His eyes darkened, narrowing slightly as he fixed his gaze on his wife.

“Baby. You really are asking for a lesson.”