Chapter 137: with translation of chapter title

Du Shanü had long known one thing——

Perhaps because of the large age gap, and because Afang had remained unmarried for a long time, Chen Weifang's relationship with Chinu was far from being as simple as that of relatives.

Instead, they were somewhat like both father and elder brother, both teacher and friend.

In other words, even up to now, all the people on their side combined could not make up a wholesome pair of parents......

But Du Shanü, however, actually had half a mother-in-law.

Afang came to demand a title for Chinu, which was really quite normal.

Du Shanü relaxed her brows and eyes slightly, then said:

"What has Chinu been muttering to you again?"

The autumn wind had grown cool, the night lacked clear radiance.

Only a faint incense burned in the corner of the study, its smoke curling, mingling with the ink scent of the pages, spreading a touch of tranquility.

Opposite Chen Weifang, the 'young lord' in moon-white brocade robes seemed not to realize how cold-hearted and unfeeling his words were, his demeanor always lax, his tone indifferent.

What a 'one who already has a husband'.

What a......

Chinu muttered.

If Chinu doesn't mutter, can he not come?

If Chinu doesn't mutter, does that mean he doesn't deserve a title?

Not yet having become emperor, he actually learned the emperor's 'callous and unscrupulous' ways to perfection!

Chen Weifang's grip on the scroll in his sleeve tightened a bit more, his gaze sinking as he probed the person before him, ultimately failing to conceal the chill in his words:

"He didn't say anything to me; I just feel......"

"It's you who are slighting him."

Although Saner had also been notorious before, he still managed to maintain, always putting on that dignity and pride in front of others.

But now, having met her, he has nothing left.

Even after doing so much, not even a......

Not even a title.

He simply couldn't utter the shock he felt upon seeing Saner just a moment earlier.

They say, they say that even having his head broken and blood flowing would not be excessive.

Such ants as they are, they are born to serve themselves, to profit themselves.

What is there that could be worth their throwing themselves into the fire like moths?

They will die.

Indeed, they will die.

Chen Weifang's head felt like it would split, yet he heard someone in the otherwise quiet room let out a faint sigh.

Du Shanü neither admitted nor denied, she simply said:

"Afang, seeking momentary gratification now is of no use."

"Some things must wait ten years, twenty years, or even a hundred years before the truth reveals itself."

Both are clever people.

And clever people know best that when one has nothing, sky-high promises are utterly useless.

Chen Weifang's throat gave a faint roll; after a long silence, the force with which he clutched the scroll in his hand finally eased gradually.

The anger in his brows gradually faded, the sharpness in his eyes retreated into the depths, his stagnant aura slowly calmed, yet gained a few measures of profound inscrutability.

Du Shanü waited for Chen Weifang to calm down before slowly moving her steps outward:

"Since today we are somewhat displeased, further exerting ourselves on official duties would be counterproductive; we might as well rest early."

No reply.

Chen Weifang crouched, his slender hands rolling up the case files that had fallen to the floor and gathering them into his arms, his posture gentle, as if embracing something.

Du Shanü deliberately dragged her steps, waiting a while, but receiving no response, she had no choice but to turn and leave.

Only when she stepped over the threshold did she hear a low whisper from behind:

"...... Saner is in the small kitchen."

Du Shanü rubbed her brow, without hesitation she replied:

"Good."

If before her steps were sluggish because of the two, this time her steps became much lighter.

Her steps hurried, treading the autumn wind all the way through the corridor, tinged with the particular eagerness a youth feels when meeting his beloved.

Chen Weifang focused his attention, listened for a few breaths, then gathered his wits and sneered:

"...... Let's wait until tomorrow; that also requires there to be a tomorrow."

The autumn chill was cold, the lanterns below the corridor dim.

Du Shanü had no mind for these things; she only thought of getting there quickly.

The small kitchen lies at the innermost part of the courtyard; usually few people go there, but knowing Chinu is there makes it a trip one must make.

Du Shanü hurried all the way; when she pushed open the door, there were no lit candles inside, only the embers in the stove glowing half‑bright, half‑dim, bathing the whole room in a dusky yellow warmth.

By the stove sat a large bowl, piled with round, plentiful egg yolks, reflecting the firelight like shattered moons scattered across the ground.

Chinu sat by the stove with his hair loose, facing her sideways, his clothes rumpled, as if he had just washed up, still bearing the creases from laundering.

His distinct knuckles on long fingers pinched an egg, peeling the shell bit by bit, the egg white slipping out whole. Chinu then slipped the yolk into the bowl before putting that white into his mouth, chewing it slowly.

His cheeks slightly puffed, the firelight flickered on his profile, faint and wavering, lending his lines a cold, sharp handsomeness.

"Good slave, truly wicked."

Du Shanü leaned against the door frame, smiling as she spoke:

I was forced by Afang to look at documents all day, my waist sore and back aching, while you sneakily hide here eating alone, not even calling me.

Chinu's movement paused, he didn't turn back, nor did he respond.

Du Shanü felt something odd in her heart, but didn't think much of it, just assuming he was being sulky again.

She walked over on tiptoe, wrapped her arms around him from behind, her arms encircling his waist:

"Good slave, you have taste like me—I only eat the yolk of salted duck eggs, but for chicken eggs I only eat the white......"

Today she was exhausted, Du Shanü missed him terribly, so she pressed closer.

Through the clothing, she felt the warmth of that body, warm and alive.

Just an instant, and it warmed Du Shanü's heart.

But before she could savor it, the next moment a strong, lingering smell of blood shot straight into her nostrils.

Du Shanü's smile froze on her face.

The stove fire leapt up, suddenly brightening a bit, and the light clearly fell on his face.

She finally saw clearly.

That face was originally the source of all her beautiful dreams.

He was extremely beautiful, a kind of yin, delicate sickly beauty.

His bone structure was clear and handsome, his brows long reaching his temples, the outer corners of his eyes lifted, those deep black eyes always holding a hint of alluring charm.

His lip color was extremely pale, yet his whole body exuded an indescribable lushness that made it impossible to look away.

Such a face already made it hard to look away on ordinary days, but now—

On his left cheekbone was a bluish-purple mark, swollen high, where the skin had broken, congealed with dark red scabs.

A split at the corner of his mouth, the blood had stopped flowing, but the wound remained, set against his pallid skin, shocking to behold.

His eyelashes were long, when he lowered his eyes they thickly covered, casting a small shadow that hid a bruise at the outer corner of his eye, as if he had been badly beaten.

In the flickering firelight, those wounds also appeared dim and bright, as if his whole body had been shattered once and then barely patched together.

He continued to slowly chew the egg white, seemingly oblivious to everything around him, his expression calm to the point of numbness.

Du Shanü abruptly withdrew her hand, her smile completely gone.

She wanted to speak and ask, but suddenly the coldness in Chen Weifang's earlier eyes flashed through her mind, her heart ached, her throat felt as if something were choking it, and only after a while could she force out words:

"Good Ah Nu…… what's wrong with you?"

Chinu seemed a bit dull today, slowly swallowing the egg white in his mouth, only after a long while did he think to turn his head to look at her.

In those deep, bottomless eyes reflected the stove's light, and also her face.

He stared at her foolishly for a moment, then suddenly smiled a little, and the split at the corner of his mouth oozed some blood again, bright red blood trickling down his chin, yet he seemed not to feel the pain, his voice low and hoarse:

"It's fine."

"Wife Master, I want to tell you good news, Ruansizong intends to pay a visit...... the day after tomorrow, you must seize the opportunity."

?? Coming, coming, indeed it's a bit late (getting hit) I'll definitely be on time tomorrow!