Chapter 6: “Baby, Point.” Part 1

The Jiang Manor was silent today.

The inner courtyard at the back stood empty—not a soul in sight.

But the front courtyard before the main hall was packed with kneeling figures.

From menial servants to supervising nannies, to the steward, to Third Young Master Jiang Yan, Madam Jiang… Old Master Jiang.

Everyone prostrate on the ground, solemn as a tomb, not daring to breathe.

The Iron-Armored Guards stood on either side with blades drawn, cold menace rolling off them—these were men who had seen battle, who killed without blinking, and their presence crushed the air.

Before them stood a single grand armchair.

The North-Guarding Prince, in dark red brocade, stood to one side. He rarely wore such vivid colors, but he’d just gotten his wife back and couldn’t help his good mood—he’d deliberately picked an outfit to match his wife’s.

Anyone could see at a glance: newlyweds.

But if even the North-Guarding Prince was standing, who could be seated in that chair?

—Jiang Sheng, naturally.

The present master of the North-Guarding Prince’s Manor!

Lu Yan, like the fierce tiger behind a little orange cat, braced both hands on the chair’s arms, bending slightly, head tilted to murmur softly by Jiang Sheng’s ear.

His voice was very gentle.

“Baby, point.”

Soft as it was, it reached every ear, making each listener shrink involuntarily.

Jiang Yuan’s forehead pressed harder into the bluestone slabs.

Mad. He must be mad.

How could the North-Guarding Prince… how could he come back up the Jiang Family for Jiang Sheng’s sake? Was Jiang Sheng really that formidable, bewitching the North-Guarding Prince into a daze in a single night?

At the thought, his fists clenched; he forced a smile onto his face and looked up. “Shengsheng, why come home and make such a spectacle?”

Jiang Sheng’s finger shot out at once. “Husband! That one! He had me tied up and wouldn’t let me eat!”

Lu Yan’s gaze went icy. He tilted his head; Cheng Jing understood at once, strode over, and drove a kick into Jiang Yuan’s chest.

Before coming, the Prince had given special instructions: today was only for show, to let the Master vent—no going too hard, too bloody. Accounts with the Jiang Family would be settled properly afterward.

Jiang Yuan clutched his chest, doubled over coughing. Madam Jiang shrieked, hugging Jiang Yan and bursting into tears.

That startled Jiang Sheng too. He turned to Lu Yan, helpless. “He’s not going to die from one kick, is he?”

Lu Yan soothed him. “Don’t worry. Cheng Jing knows restraint.”

At most, two cracked ribs.

Jiang Yuan’s face flushed red. “Your Highness, I am a court official! Striking me without cause—I’ll petition the throne!”

Lu Yan gave a cold snort.

He strolled over and looked down at Jiang Yuan. “Without cause? You abused the North-Guarding Princess Consort. That crime alone is worth ten thousand deaths.”

Jiang Yuan’s expression went blank for an instant. “North-Guarding… Princess Consort?”

Jiang Sheng was his husband’s little shadow.

He came scampering over from the chair at once, planted himself beside Lu Yan, hands on hips. “Scared now? I TOLD you my husband would come settle accounts with you. I told you not to mess with me!”

To everyone else, this was the kitty borrowing the tiger’s might.

But Lu Yan was being charmed to death by his wife.

He couldn’t help smiling and reached out to gather Jiang Sheng in. “Your foot isn’t healed. What are you running for?”

Lu Yan scooped Jiang Sheng up one-armed and turned to the rest—already scared half to death by the sight of Jiang Yuan kicked flying, all heads down, bodies shaking.

Jiang Sheng conducted his great muster like a khagan reviewing troops.

Little finger extended, point, point, point.

Whoever got pointed at turned deathly pale, wailing for mercy—until they were gagged and dragged off for a sound thrashing.

Jiang Yan was last.

He couldn’t even stand, a trembling puddle on the ground. Jiang Sheng pointed at him and announced smugly, “Husband, he’s one of the only two people I can beat in a fight.”

Lu Yan’s face changed. “You two fought? He hit you?”

Jiang Yan looked up in despair: “…” Who hit whom?

Jiang Sheng explained, “I hit HIM. I won!”

Lu Yan couldn’t hear a word of it.

Those skinny arms and legs of his wife’s—beat whom, exactly? His lonely little baby, transmigrated all alone, bullied by these vipers—and beaten, no less?

Utterly lawless.

Did they take him for dead? Did they think Jiang Sheng had no husband?!

Lu Yan struck personally. Years of battlefield campaigning gave his arm a force nothing like Jiang Sheng’s soft little punches.

A man who couldn’t even beat Jiang Sheng stood no chance against Lu Yan.

Soon the whole family wore bruises black and blue.

Lu Yan had the three of them bound and tossed into the woodshed—two days, no food.

Starve his wife, would they.

Then nobody eats.

Lu Yan took a cloth, wiped his hands, and finally—like flicking away something filthy—tossed it onto Jiang Yuan’s face.

“Rest assured, Lord Jiang. At court, I’ll file your leave of absence for you.”

He turned, drawing Jiang Sheng close. “Let’s go, baby.”

The procession arrived in grand style and departed in grand style, having torn the Jiang Manor to pieces, and not one soul dared breathe a word.

Outside the gates, Jiang Sheng was giddy with delight. Seeing him happy, Lu Yan couldn’t help smiling too, holding and coaxing him. “Anyone else who bullied baby?”

Jiang Sheng rested his head on Lu Yan’s shoulder, thought a moment—then his eyes rolled and landed on Cheng Jing nearby.

Cheng Jing’s eyes went wide; he spoke first. “You bit ME!”

Jiang Sheng: “?”

Cheng Jing pulled a long face. “The Prince ordered me to seize you, didn’t he? I didn’t grab you hard—but Master, you bit hard. There’s still a mark on my hand.”

Two little tiger fangs, rather pointy.

As he spoke, Cheng Jing kept sneaking glances at the Prince’s face. He’d figured it out by now: this Master was the Prince’s darling heart, and he genuinely feared that one whisper in the Prince’s ear would get him demoted to Army Cook.

Jiang Sheng muttered, “I didn’t even say anything.”

It was Lu Yan who frowned, pinching Jiang Sheng’s cheek and examining his tender red lips carefully. “Biting random things—do you know whether they’re clean or not?!”

Cheng Jing: “?”

Jiang Sheng blinked, tilted his head, and bit down on Lu Yan’s finger, dark bright eyes fixed on him.

The man laughed, bounced him up in his arms. “Home!”

Arms around Lu Yan’s neck, Jiang Sheng echoed him solemnly, arm raised in a rallying cry. “Home!”

Yesterday’s reunion had been too rushed for Jiang Sheng to properly see the manor. Today, hand in Lu Yan’s, chest out, he padded around inspecting his territory, kitty-style.

Two courtyards in, he couldn’t help saying, “How is your place like the Forbidden City? It’s huge!”

Back home they’d had elevators; Jiang Sheng never walked a step he didn’t have to.

He looked up at Lu Yan, whining for him to have someone build him a wheelchair, so he could be pushed wherever he went.

Lu Yan laughed, bent down, and scooped him up, one hand under his butt. “Who needs a wheelchair? Wherever you go, I’ll carry you.”

Jiang Sheng’s eyes curved into crescents—then he remembered something, tilted his head, and sniffed around Lu Yan’s neck.

“Husband, you haven’t gone bad over here, have you? If you dare find someone else, I won’t let you off.”

Lu Yan said quickly, “Impossible. Baby, there’s no one improper in this manor. If you don’t believe me, ask Cheng Jing—I haven’t so much as touched anyone.”

Jiang Sheng’s jealousy was legendary. Back home, if Lu Yan came back from social events carrying even a whiff of someone else’s perfume, he could forget sleeping in the bedroom.

Lu Yan had no intention of finally finding his wife only to be banished to the study.

Cheng Jing, never imagining he’d one day be called to testify on the Prince’s behalf, nodded rapidly. “None, none. Absolutely none.”

At that, Lu Yan recalled something. All these years of war had gathered brothers around him—Cheng Yu, Cheng Jing, the Divine Doctor—all living in the manor.

His wife should meet them.

Lu Yan assembled everyone in the main hall. He’d never had many rules; now he added just one.

In all matters, Jiang Sheng comes first.

The Princess Consort is the boss.

That, henceforth, was the law of the manor.

Jiang Sheng’s eyes darted about, striving to look dignified—and the moment everyone left, he rolled straight into Lu Yan’s arms.

Eyes sparkling. “I’m the boss? Then doesn’t that mean I get to ride on your head from now on?”

Lu Yan laughed. “You can ride my face if you like.”

Jiang Sheng huffed, lowering his head to bite Lu Yan’s chin—then remembered Lu Yan was a prince now; marks wouldn’t look dignified.

“Husband, you were so serious just now.”

Actually, Lu Yan had been stern in company meetings too, but it was different from just now.

It was like how employees feared Lu Yan at the office—because he was the boss, he could fire them.

Those people feared Lu Yan too, but mixed with something else—as if Lu Yan… held power over their very lives.

Jiang Sheng pouted. “Everyone out there badmouths you, did you know?!”

He jabbed a finger into Lu Yan’s chest. “Saying you like to flay people for lanterns, saying you kill without blinking…”

Before he could finish, Lu Yan caught his finger, voice taut with something like urgency. “You believed it?”

“What are you saying? How could I believe that,” Jiang Sheng said, unhappy. “I just hate how people out there spread rumors. I hate people talking about you!”

Lu Yan drew his hand to his lips and kissed it. “I don’t care what they say.”

Only Jiang Sheng mattered.

Jiang Sheng comforted him, “Don’t worry. Next time I hear anyone talk about you, I’ll go beat them up myself.”

Clearly, defeating Jiang Yan had sent his confidence through the roof; he carried himself like a newly minted martial arts master.

Lu Yan frowned, voice grave. “No more fighting.”

“Anyone bullies you, you come tell Husband. No handling it yourself.”

No—even that wasn’t allowed.

Lu Yan had never cared about his reputation, about how outsiders saw him. Only power. Only standing.

But that was different now.

He had a wife.

He didn’t want Jiang Sheng to see his other face—

the one soaked in blood, in this man-eating era.

He wanted to be, before Jiang Sheng, forever that clean, gentle Lu Yan.

Jiang Sheng had always napped after lunch; food finished, drowsiness set in, and Lu Yan carried him back to the main hall, settling him on the small couch.

Jiang Sheng scooted back, making room, and patted the spot. “Husband, nap with me.”

Lu Yan hesitated, then lay down still dressed.

Jiang Sheng frowned and nudged him. “Take your clothes off.”

Lu Yan closed his eyes. “Who undresses in the middle of the day?”

Jiang Sheng sulked. “Why not? This is how we always slept at home.”

Seeing Lu Yan still unmoving, Jiang Sheng got angry and sat up. “I remember now—you didn’t undress last night either. What’s wrong with you? You’re sick of me, aren’t you? You don’t want to sleep with me anymore, is that it?”