Blossom

Dou Zhao thought carefully and said, "Actually, there isn't."

Song Mo was taken aback.

With a gentle smile, Dou Zhao softly continued, "When I was young, I lived on the farmstead with Consort Cui. As the eldest daughter who had lost her mother, and with Consort Cui being of concubine origin, she was especially strict with me in needlework, fearing I might be mocked by others..."

Song Mo was puzzled.

The information he had received was that Consort Cui lived with Dou Zhao, so why did Dou Zhao say she lived with Consort Cui on the farmstead?

Song Mo thought of those large chests of account books.

No matter how wealthy the Dou family was, and even if her father had no sons, they wouldn’t have registered so much property under Dou Zhao’s name.

When Wang Yousheng’s daughter entered the household back then, it probably wasn’t just a simple case of promoting a concubine to the main wife.

At that time, Dou Zhao must have been only two or three years old. Who took care of her?

And how had she managed all these years?

Seeing the faint bitterness in Dou Zhao’s smile, Song Mo felt deep regret.

He had been too cautious in handling matters related to Dou Zhao, trying to appear modest and reserved, which left him with only a superficial understanding of her past. Now, he had inadvertently brought up painful memories...

"Shou Gu," Song Mo pressed his cheek against hers, "we have Old Women in our household for needlework. Just instruct them if you need anything. If their work isn’t satisfactory, I’ll hire a few from the palace’s needlework bureau to work for us. Don’t do needlework anymore—it’s bad for your eyes." Then, realizing Dou Zhao’s needlework was all for him, he added, "I have more clothes than I can wear. Once I finish my duties in a few days, I’ll take you to the Western Hills to enjoy the snow."

The duties he referred to involved overseeing the Five Cities Garrison in apprehending the thieves responsible for the fire at the Duke of Yingguo’s Mansion.

Tenderness welled up in Dou Zhao’s heart.

Was Song Mo feeling sorry for her?

In her previous life, she had shouldered everything in the Marquis of Jining’s Mansion, unable to step away from her responsibilities. The only time she left the Capital after marriage was when Tuo Niang passed away, and she had to attend the funeral. Even in that moment of heart-wrenching grief, she had to bring Yin Jie'er along... It was then that she had encountered Song Mo.

That aloof man, whose very bones seemed to radiate cold detachment, now lay in her arms, saying things like not letting her do needlework—words that defied conventional expectations for women—simply out of concern for her.

Dou Zhao tightened her arms around him, as if hoping to warm his coldness with her embrace.

There had been another reason she hadn’t wanted to remarry, one she had been too ashamed to dwell on.

"A woman does not serve two husbands."

Yet fragments of her past life lingered in her mind.

Though she no longer wished to be Wei Tingyu’s wife, she couldn’t deny that she once had been. How could she live with another man without reservation?

Being with Song Mo had filled her with conflict.

Reason told her to let go of the past, but emotionally, she couldn’t help feeling ashamed.

Especially when Song Mo showed particular fascination with her body—the feeling was especially intense.

In her past life, she wouldn’t have cared.

But in this life, at this moment, she suddenly felt a flicker of gratitude.

If Song Mo liked it, why should she be coy?

So what if she had once been Wei Tingyu’s wife?

In this life, the one who cherished her was Song Mo. The one who doted on her was Song Mo. The one who made her realize she could be someone’s treasured pearl was Song Mo.Since Song Mo liked it, why shouldn’t she indulge him?

"Yantang!" Dou Zhao whispered into Song Mo’s ear, her warm breath tickling his neck. "Promise me—if it snows, you’ll take me to the Western Hills to see it. You can’t go back on your word..."

This was the first time Dou Zhao had spoken to him like this—playful and alluring, like a flower spirit.

Song Mo could no longer restrain himself. He flipped her beneath him, his arousal pressing insistently against her core.

In the past, Dou Zhao would have blushed and pushed him away, murmuring shy protests. But this time, she didn’t resist. Instead, she lifted her slender leg, wrapping it around him with a languid grace. He could already feel her heat, her wetness, the tightness that threatened to undo him.

Just moments ago, she had told him to behave, yet now she clung to him.

"Shou Gu!" Though he didn’t understand why she had suddenly changed, Song Mo wasn’t one to question good fortune. He plunged into the scorching depths of her embrace.

It was too much—too intense.

Dou Zhao winced at the sharp sting, but she opened herself to him, accepting his fervor without restraint.

"Shou Gu! Shou Gu!" His body burned against hers, his excitement palpable.

Dou Zhao loved this side of Song Mo—wild, unrestrained, utterly consumed by passion.

Her own body ignited in response. She gasped and writhed in his arms.

Even in his rapture, Song Mo noticed. He braced himself above her, voice low with concern. "What’s wrong? Does it hurt?"

"No," she breathed, then suddenly reversed their positions, pinning him beneath her. "Don’t you like me like this?" Her eyes shimmered like spring water as she gazed down at him, swaying her hips in a slow, mesmerizing rhythm, her curves as exquisite as rolling hills.

Song Mo sucked in a sharp breath.

It felt like a dream—like he had stumbled into paradise.

"You little temptress!" With a growl, he sat up, gripping her waist as he thrust into her with renewed force.

Now Dou Zhao understood the meaning of "playing with fire."

Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her face paling slightly.

Noticing her discomfort, Song Mo immediately slowed, murmuring softly, "Does it hurt?"

Dou Zhao hummed in response, resting her head against his shoulder. But as her body warmed again, Song Mo couldn’t help but lose control once more—only to ease his pace when she tensed. This back-and-forth continued until, in the end, it was Song Mo who attended to her pleasure.

He chuckled, teasing, "So delicate."

Dou Zhao flushed with indignation.

Song Mo quickly soothed her, kissing her tenderly. "I know—you just wanted to make me happy."

Dou Zhao buried her face against his neck, giggling before nipping at his earlobe. "Then tell me… are you happy?"

The sultry look in her eyes sent his pulse racing.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she tilted her head and asked, "Should I give you a daughter?"

The rosy flush across her snow-white breasts captivated him.

Dou Zhao laughed softly.

Snapping out of his daze, Song Mo swatted her backside in mock exasperation before pinning her beneath him once more.

Dou Zhao closed her eyes, surrendering to the storm of his passion—every thrust erasing the past, sealing her fate.

From this moment on, she was Song Mo’s wife.She would bear children for Song Mo. She would raise them together with Song Mo, be a good mother, a good wife...

Dou Zhao tightly embraced Song Mo, no longer suppressing her feelings, moaning along with him...

※※※※※

The winter rain last night had knocked the last few leaves from the branches, leaving the courtyard in disarray.

Chen Jia stood under the veranda, letting the cold morning breeze brush against his face.

He asked Huzi, who stood respectfully before him: "Are you absolutely certain you heard correctly?"

Huzi looked somewhat aggrieved: "Brother Chen, I swear I heard right! Everyone in Zhen Ding knows about this. The young master of Pang Family still walks with a limp because of it and hasn't married yet. I heard their family's dowry offer has reached five hundred taels of silver."

Chen Jia chuckled at this: "Why don't we take advantage of this deal? Buy a Yangzhou 'skinny horse' and pass her off as a girl from a respectable family to marry into their household, pocketing that five hundred taels..."

"Brother Chen, don't joke about this!" Huzi exclaimed. "The Pang Family is related by marriage to the Wang Family!"

Chen Jia suddenly fell silent.

Did the Young Lord know he had married such a formidable woman?

He instructed Huzi: "Go back to Zhen Ding and find out if anyone from the Duke of England's Mansion has been there."

If someone had gone, then the Young Lord must know exactly what kind of wife he had married... Yet he still held Dou Shi in such high regard. This showed just how formidable she was!

※※※※※

In the Hall of Cultivating Will, Third Master Dou Xiuchang sat on the heated brick bed by the window, gazing outside through the glass panes.

On their second day in the Capital, the heir of the Duke of England had gone with Dou Zhao to Huai Shu Alley. Dou Shishu had even taken a day off to receive them at home. Without ceremony, Dou Zhao had asked them to come to the Duke of England's Mansion the next day to reconcile accounts. Dou Shishu hadn't refused... This made Dou Xiuchang privately speculate about the relationship between Dou Zhao and Huai Shu Alley.

Zhao Liangbi approached and pointed at one particular entry, smiling: "Third Master, this payment is marked as unrecovered. There's no further record—do you remember? Could it have been recorded with another account?"

Dou Xiuchang looked up.

In the eastern part of the Reception Hall, Zhong Bingxiang led seven or eight skilled accountants from the Hall of Cultivating Will, their abacuses clicking as they checked the accounts. None of them spared a glance in their direction, but Dou Xiuchang would wager that every one of them was listening intently, waiting for him to explain where that money had gone.

Dou Xiuchang got off the heated bed, rummaged through a chest, and pulled out an account book marked with bold red characters "Twenty Twenty."" Flipping to a certain page, he said: "Fourth Sister gave the order to waive this payment." He pointed to the corner of the page where Dou Zhao's signature and seal were affixed.

Zhao Liangbi acknowledged with a smile, made a notation in the account book, and returned to the eastern side of the Reception Hall.

The sound of abacuses grew more rapid.

Dou Xiuchang sighed deeply.

Reconciling accounts was like tearing off the last shred of modesty, forcing people to confront each other openly.

Third Uncle probably knew this would happen, which was why he had put on the airs of an elder and pushed him into coming to the Duke of England's Mansion!

He sat back down on the heated bed and leisurely sipped his tea.

※※※※※

Song Yichun, however, was growing restless.

Dou Xiuchang was a junior and a member of Dou Zhao's natal family. By all rights and propriety, his visit to the Duke of England's Mansion should have included paying respects to Song Yichun.Song Yichun certainly played the role of an elder to the fullest. After exchanging a few words with Dou Xiuchang, he directly asked the purpose of his visit.

The Dou family had already discussed this matter thoroughly.

Dou Xiuchang replied unhurriedly, "My seventh uncle pities my fourth sister and has decided to add more to her dowry. I was entrusted by him to deliver it to her."

This is the consequence of having no sons!

Song Yichun sneered inwardly but outwardly offered polite words before signaling the end of the conversation by lifting his teacup.

Yet, unexpectedly, even after five or six days, the accounts still hadn’t been fully settled.

He sent people to investigate. Those who returned reported that seven or eight people were busy calculating in the Reception Hall, so occupied they didn’t even have time to drink water—truly verifying the accounts.

What kind of accounts could take so long?

Even the Duke of England's Mansion had only taken five or six days to settle their accounts.

Song Yichun summoned Zeng Wu and said, "Go and find out exactly how much dowry the Dou family has added for Madam. Why hasn’t it been settled even now?"