Chapter 7: The Widower’s Look Part 2

Lu Yan was one thing—he’d waited on him since childhood, and Jiang Sheng was used to it—but suddenly having a crowd of strangers hovering, he didn’t know where to put his hands or feet.

“I can eat by myself.” Embarrassed even as he said it, he politely asked, “Won’t you sit and eat with me?”

The servants shook their heads in unison, like a rehearsed troupe.

Only when they’d all withdrawn did Jiang Sheng pick up his little chopsticks and circle the table, eating as he went.

Lu Yan wasn’t there, but he’d clearly given instructions in advance—the small kitchen had made all his favorites.

Jiang Sheng stuffed himself with great gusto.

Round little belly!

…

Lu Yan was exceptionally impatient today.

At morning court he said not one word, none of his usual imperious edge, and the instant “court dismissed” was announced, he turned on his heel and swept out without pausing a breath.

“Your Highness… Your Highness, a moment.”

An official, smiling ingratiatingly, dared to bar his way, rubbing his hands. “I hear Your Highness received a marriage from the Empress Dowager, taking a bride from the Jiang Family. What a coincidence—this official is kin to the Jiangs within five degrees… being family and all, I’ve prepared a modest gift; I’ll send it over to Your Highness’s manor shortly.”

Lu Yan smiled without a trace of warmth. “Oh. The Jiang Family.”

He said mildly, “Your news seems out of date. I intend to send the Jiang Family to their deaths. Since you’re kin, send over your household register—we can bring your family along.”

“…”

The man’s lips quivered for a long while before his legs gave out and he dropped to his knees.

Lu Yan couldn’t be bothered with another glance and strode off.

Truly asking for death.

Did he not know His Highness was rushing home to his wife?

His wife was terribly clingy these days—crying pitifully at even a brief parting, unbearably sweet.

Lu Yan thought this, and couldn’t help the curve of his lips.

Imagining his wife curled in his rooms, dabbing tearful eyes as he waited—Lu Yan didn’t even take the carriage; he spurred his horse and galloped straight home.

The steward waited at the gate, and seeing Lu Yan ride up, hurried forward to take the reins and hand them, with the whip, to a servant.

Lu Yan strode inside. “Where is the Princess Consort?”

The steward hesitated, hemming.

Lu Yan’s face dropped at once; he quickened his pace. “What happened?”

The steward hurried to explain, “Nothing, Master… the Master is playing in the back courtyard.”

Playing?

Lu Yan didn’t process it until he reached the back courtyard and saw a dense crowd packed together—his eyelids jumped.

Knew it: quiet child, up to mischief.

Face stern, he coughed twice.

The crowd ahead didn’t stir; nobody noticed him at all, every head craned, listening with total absorption.

Out of options, Lu Yan had to squeeze through the crowd just to see his wife—like pushing through a celebrity meet-and-greet. Two rows of long benches stood at the front; Jiang Sheng sat facing them behind a little table, tea, fruit, and pastries spread out, chattering away.

The audience below hung on every word.

Two sentences in, Lu Yan didn’t know whether to laugh or scold.

He was telling Journey to the West.

Jiang Sheng, sharp-eyed, spotted his husband at once, licked his lips, cleared his throat, and cracked the gavel. “To learn how the story continues—listen to the next installment!”

Suspiciously professional.

The crowd below clapped heartily, giving face.

As the audience dispersed, they finally noticed Lu Yan standing there and dropped to their knees in a rustling wave. Lu Yan waved them off, then went over, hauled his wife up into his arms, and bit his neck, exasperated and fond. “Little rascal.”

So he hadn’t missed him at all—having plenty of fun on his own.

Arms around Lu Yan’s neck, Jiang Sheng clung and wheedled, “It passes the time, okay? Otherwise I miss you until my heart hurts.”

He stamped quick little kisses all over Lu Yan’s face.

Please—coaxing his husband was child’s play.

Jiang Sheng was laying it on thick, but Lu Yan was still coaxed dizzy, surrounded by his wife’s fragrance, head swimming. His large hand cupped his wife’s bottom and gave it a squeeze. “Never knew you liked this. How about I have them build you a stage in the garden, just for this?”

Here we go again.

Jiang Sheng remembered: back when he’d loved riding drop towers at amusement parks, Lu Yan had built him an entire amusement park, and every day at sundown Jiang Sheng would go drop—several drops a day.

“Stop.”

Jiang Sheng clapped a hand over Lu Yan’s mouth. “No wasting money. Is earning it easy for you?”

Eh, not bad.

Someone had just tried to send money to the manor, actually.

Lu Yan licked his wife’s palm, voice muffled. “As you say, my lady of the house.”

Cheng Yu had just stepped in when he heard the manor’s little Master cry out, “Lu Yan! Why are you licking me!”

Face scarlet, he could neither advance nor retreat, standing rooted in awkwardness.

Told you he was the unluckier brother.

It was ALWAYS him walking in on these moments!

In the end it was Jiang Sheng who spotted Cheng Yu first. Chin propped on Lu Yan’s shoulder, he greeted him kitty-style, “Cheng Yu, you’re here.”

At the sound, Lu Yan turned; Jiang Sheng, held in his arms, was forced to swivel his gaze away—unhappy, he twisted himself right back.

Watching the two of them wriggle and cling right in front of him, Cheng Yu didn’t dare raise his eyes, studying the ants on the ground as he reported dutifully, “Your Highness. An invitation from Commandery Prince Ying’s Manor.”

Jiang Sheng’s eyes lit up. “Let me see, let me see! Is there a portrait? Just how handsome is he?”

He’d heard the title “Handsome Prince” back at the Jiang Manor, but he’d been busy fleeing for his life and had no time to ask around.

Lu Yan: “…”

He took the invitation and said, resigned, “He’s an old man.”

Jiang Sheng leaned in to read along with Lu Yan. Read and read, read and read… he couldn’t really read traditional characters!

He glanced at Cheng Jing across the way—too embarrassed to ask directly—so he whispered by his husband’s ear, “What does the handsome old man want?”

His wife’s breath tickled warm; Lu Yan’s throat bobbed, and he said in a low voice, “He’s inviting us to his manor.”

Judging by it, this Commandery Prince Ying was no good sort. Jiang Sheng said, very sensibly, “Let’s not go, then.”

But Lu Yan said unhurriedly, “No. We’re going.”

He tossed the invitation back to Cheng Yu and walked toward the back courtyard with his wife in his arms. “A good chance to take you out for fun.”

Lu Yan had no intention of keeping his wife cooped up in the manor. Letting Jiang Sheng show his face was good—let everyone see: this was his wife, someone none of them could afford to provoke. Best they all keep their distance going forward.

Come to think of it, since entering the Capital and receiving his title, invitations to banquets piled up daily at the manor—and Lu Yan had never once attended.

So word that the North-Guarding Prince would grace Commandery Prince Ying’s banquet was truly novel—and most crucially, the North-Guarding Prince was not coming alone.

Four horses, three-tiered canopy, nine red banners.

The Prince’s carriage halted before Commandery Prince Ying’s Manor, the accompanying maids and servants nearly clogging half the street.

Cheng Yu set out a footstool and lifted the curtain; only then did the North-Guarding Prince step down at a leisurely pace. Lu Yan wore black brocade, the Nine-Bead Golden Crown on his head, his face cold and stern, presence overwhelming.

But the moment he stepped down from the carriage, he turned back and extended an arm, as if helping someone down.

Necks craned all around.

Jiang Sheng was dressed even more lavishly than Lu Yan. He’d always loved looking pretty—choosing the outfit alone had taken over half a shichen—and finally settled on goose-yellow, making him look like a fluffy little duckling.

Lu Yan handed him down and took his hand, and only then did he step into the manor.

Jiang Sheng’s decorum lasted about a moment before his little head was swiveling every which way. “Husband, their house is so small.”

Lu Yan seemed genuinely amused into a laugh. “Of course. Apart from the Imperial Palace, ours is the largest in the whole Capital.”

Someday, the palace too will be yours.

Perhaps word had spread that the North-Guarding Prince was coming, for plenty of guests attended today and the garden was lively. Several young lords had gathered for pitch-pot and archery, hands and mouths both never stopping.

“The North-Guarding Prince still hasn’t arrived?”

“I hear he’s bringing that one from the Jiang Family today.”

“Really?”

The one currently shooting, in green robes, was Commandery Prince Ying’s most doted-upon younger son—spoiled to the point of not knowing his own place.

He jeered without restraint, “If he does come, who knows—will he share a garden with us men, or go sit with the ladies?”

The North-Guarding Prince’s fearsome reputation was such that even behind his back none dared gossip; those nearby laughed awkwardly and said nothing.

But the young lord pressed on, careless, “I hear he was unloved even in the Jiang Family. Probably can’t tell one end of a bow from the other—the gentleman’s six arts and all that… AH!”

A feathered arrow hissed past and buried itself dead center in the target.

He whipped around, shocked and furious—only to find everyone around him already on their knees. Not far off stood Lu Yan, cold-faced, a bow in his hands.

His face went white, lips trembling. “Your Highness…”

But Lu Yan abruptly smiled, his tone mild.

“Oh. I wondered—who else but the young lord of Commandery Prince Ying’s Manor.”

He said, very politely, “I’m teaching my wife archery. Would the young lord kindly stand up straight and serve as my wife’s target?”

The words fell, and dead silence slammed down—no one so much as breathed loudly.

Jiang Sheng, clearly still out of the loop, looked left and right, blinked, and finally snuggled obediently against his husband, nodding politely at the young lord opposite.

“Thank you.”

If Husband was being polite, he’d be polite too.