Chapter 98: Is Being a Duchess the Best Prospect

Cheng Zhao chatted idly with Zhou Yuanshen.

"...My humble opinion, Duke, is that the affairs of Chengming Hall appear chaotic but are actually quite clear. The one truly in charge of Chengming Hall is Grandmother," said Cheng Zhao.

No matter how Madam Song and Huan Qingtang stirred things up, or who managed more or less, it did not change this fact. As long as the old madam lived, there was only one mistress of this Duke's mansion.

Zhou Yuanshen looked up, his gaze focused intently on her: "Cheng Zhao, it is good that you can see the truth through layers of disguise. This saves you from wasting effort on futile struggles."

Once you see clearly, you know the path to take and where to go.

"Sister-in-law also sees it clearly. The only one who is muddle-headed is Aunt," said Cheng Zhao.

Then she added, "It is not that she is incompetent. She is simply trapped within this mountain and cannot see its entirety. Without her example, I and Sister-in-law would be just as trapped in the mountain."

It was Aunt's recent circumstances that repeatedly reminded Cheng Zhao, forcing her to see reality.

"Cheng Zhao, do not sympathize with anyone. Some people, you think they are human, but they have long been devoured by the tiger, becoming only a ghost without a soul. If you try to pull them out, you are merely delivering yourself into the tiger's mouth," said Zhou Yuanshen.

Was he talking about the Madam, or Huan Qingtang and Mu Jiang?

Before Cheng Zhao could figure it out, Zhou Yuanshen continued, "Do not let yourself become food in the tiger's mouth either."

"Rest assured, I will protect myself," said Cheng Zhao.

She added, "My mother says that any kindness without authority is merely cowardice. Once you are cowardly, everyone steps on you, and kindness becomes ridiculous. I will not blindly sympathize with anyone."

Zhou Yuanshen nodded slightly: "Your mother is very wise, and you are also very perceptive, understanding after one lesson."

He praised Cheng Zhao and also praised her mother. Cheng Zhao was very happy inside and smiled brightly.

Zhou Yuanshen averted his gaze, his Adam's apple moving slightly, and drank the remaining tea in his cup all at once.

He stood up: "I just remembered something; I need to go out. Have my portion of the meal distributed. Eat yours yourself. I will come back tonight."

He took his cloak and turned to leave.

Cheng Zhao acknowledged.

Qiubai, along with a rough maid from the kitchen, carried a large food box back and happened to see Zhou Yuanshen striding away.

"... His Grace is not hungry? Even if busy, he could eat two bites before leaving," Qiubai said to Cheng Zhao.

Cheng Zhao: "He said he suddenly remembered something; it must be urgent."

"What could be so urgent?" Qiubai muttered.

"Many things outside," said Cheng Zhao.

She managed the gatehouse, the main kitchen, her own Nonghua Courtyard, and occasionally checked on her dowry investments; she was busy every day herself.

Zhou Yuanshen managed the outer courtyard of the Duke's mansion and also had three official posts, so who knows how busy he was. It was reasonable for him to say he had things to do.

Cheng Zhao did not want to waste time on things someone had already clearly explained. She picked up her chopsticks: "I am a bit hungry."

She left two dishes and pointed to the rest: "You and Nanfeng share."

"Yes, Young Madam," said Qiubai.

Nanfeng was a growing boy with an appetite bigger than an ox's; he ate everything cleanly.

He also told Qiubai many "little secrets" from within the mansion.

Qiubai relayed them to Cheng Zhao.

Cheng Zhao found it amusing.

That day, Zhou Yuanshen returned to Nonghua Courtyard very late.

The faint scent of wine clung to him.

It was not strong or unpleasant.

"... Your Grace, if you plan to return next time, please come earlier," said Cheng Zhao.

It was too late and disturbed her sleep.

Just as she finished speaking, Zhou Yuanshen pulled her into an embrace.

He sealed her lips.

"Cheng Zhao," he whispered, his voice thick and sticky like syrup, sweet and clinging, enough to make one numb and dizzy.

Cheng Zhao felt lightheaded from his kisses.

"Cheng Zhao, do not address me as 'Your Grace' in the bedchamber," he said after releasing her lips for a moment. "Is being the Duchess truly your best prospect, Cheng Zhao? You cannot be so lackluster."

Cheng Zhao's heart skipped a beat.

These words forced her to overthink, almost scaring her to death.

Was the man spewing nonsense because he had drunk too much? How dare he say such things? He might not fear death, but Cheng Zhao did.

Cheng Zhao cupped his face, trying to sober him up a little.

He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm as if by reflex. He looked up at her, his gaze urgent and greedy, with a touch of bloodthirsty ferocity, fixing on her unwaveringly.

Apart from that time Aunt was drugged, he was almost always coldly rational; even when most wild, his expression remained calm.

But now, he was not even drunk and yet he looked dazed, carrying a certain ferocity, revealing another side of his nature.

Cheng Zhao felt she did not know him.

Thinking carefully, how could she claim to know him?

Did she know what spear techniques or calligraphy style he practiced daily? What clothes or food he preferred?

Every day he went to court; did she know which government office he went to first afterward, whether it was fixed or random?

Even his body—she had never really looked at it carefully.

Even several times when it was not nighttime, she would turn her face away and tightly shut her eyes.

Thinking of this, Cheng Zhao wanted to look back at him, but her body went weak first.

"Cheng Zhao, touch me," he said, pulling her hand over.

This time, Cheng Zhao did not resist, nor did she close her eyes. Under the slight influence of wine, his skin was scalding hot; only when she touched him did she realize how cold her own hands were.

Her hands were too cold, and he was too hot—both of them trembled at the touch, and his breath immediately became three parts heavier.

His gaze held both endurance and frenzy.

Zhou Yuanshen even brought the small corner lamp from the bedside table closer.

Cheng Zhao saw his broad chest, not overly dark skin, and the clearly defined muscles of his abdomen. The waistline curved sharply downward, with clear lines continuing below.

On his chest and waistline were a few scars, not very noticeable.

But on his shoulder was a much more savage scar, as if something had gnawed it. The scar was chaotic, resembling a headless wolf perched on his shoulder.

Cheng Zhao, lost in passion, was still captivated by it.

She had never seen it before.

"... What bit you to leave that?" she asked.

It must have hurt terribly at the time, extremely painful.

Yet the scar left behind was so beautiful, like the gnarled branches of a dead old tree—art born from cruelty and pain, mesmerizing.

Zhou Yuanshen: "Kiss it, and I'll tell you."

Cheng Zhao leaned forward and kissed the strange scar on his shoulder. His Adam's apple moved rapidly as he eagerly captured her lips.

He kissed her, the passionate kiss too intense, possessing her lips and tongue.

However, just as Cheng Zhao was burning with discomfort, he slowed down.

He asked Cheng Zhao: "Can you feel me?"

He teased her slowly, muttering incoherent words.

Cheng Zhao, holding tightly to his neck, was incredibly frustrated: "Zhou Yuanshen, if you keep playing these tricks, don't even think about staying the night in Nonghua Courtyard!"

Remembering something, she added, "Twice a month, you agreed. This month you..."

He kissed her again, stopping her words and preventing her from continuing.

After that, he behaved himself.

Afterward, Cheng Zhao was exhausted, yet she still went to offer incense to Buddha.

She kowtowed piously.

Hoping to conceive soon.

Pleasure in the bed curtains was fine, but also tiring. Sometimes Cheng Zhao just wanted to sleep early.