The teacup hit the floor, its piercing shatter startling Bitao and Liuya who were standing guard outside.
The two maidservants rushed over in a panic, catching only a glimpse of Wei Rao lifting the curtain and darting into the East Side Room, and the Young Lord seated calmly at the west side of the dining table. From their angle, Bitao noticed the Young Lord’s face and lapel were splattered with soup, while Liuya, frightened by the trickle of blood, covered her mouth.
Lu Zhuo took out a handkerchief, wiping his face while pressing it to the wound on his forehead. Without looking up, he instructed the two maidservants, "Leave, and do not speak of this."
How would Liuya dare to speak of it?
The Young Lord’s status in the Duke's Manor was second only to the Duke of Yingguo and the Old Madam. If the Lu Family were to find out that the young lady had struck the Young Lord’s forehead until it bled, how would she ever establish herself in the Duke's Manor? And if word were to spread outside—that the young lady had dared to raise a hand against her husband, against the Young Lord who had loyally defended the nation—wouldn’t she be cursed and scorned by all?
Glancing at the scattered shards of the teacup on the floor, Liuya pulled Bitao away.
"Did the Young Lord and the young lady have a quarrel?"
Once they were farther off, Bitao whispered to Liuya, a little worried, "Do you think the young lady was wronged?"
Having witnessed the scene firsthand, Liuya replied with a trembling heart, "Didn’t you see? The Young Lord’s forehead was bleeding—it must have been our young lady who struck him. Even if the Young Lord said something to provoke her first, our young lady has already retaliated. I’m only afraid the Young Lord won’t swallow this insult and will later regret it, going to the Old Madam to accuse the young lady."
Bitao clutched her chest, already stunned by the words "bled"!
Though the young lady had practiced martial arts for years, she had never injured anyone before—and now the Young Lord had become her first!
In the Hall.
Lu Zhuo remained seated with his head bowed, his lapel stained with spots, and the table before him splattered with soup.
He had thought Wei Rao’s words were meant to mock his mother and aunts for foolishly remaining widows, and in a moment of impulse, he had retorted without thinking. But when Wei Rao suddenly erupted in fury, splashing him with chicken soup and hurling a bowl at him, Lu Zhuo instantly regained his composure.
The "scoundrel men" Wei Rao spoke of must have referred to scoundrels among the living; otherwise, she would have been insulting her own father, Master Wei the Second.
Master Wei the Second was a good official—fearless in the face of power, unwilling to collude with corrupt officials, living with integrity and dying with a clear conscience.
She must have held her father in the highest esteem, which was why even someone as unafraid of gossip as her was driven to tears by his insult to her father.
Her strength was considerable, and the spot on his forehead where she had struck him throbbed with pain. Yet what came to Lu Zhuo’s mind were the repeated instances of his own discourtesy toward Wei Rao.
Misunderstanding her mockery of his mother’s gambling, misunderstanding her prying into his fourth aunt’s privacy, misunderstanding her...
He knew full well that Wei Rao’s nature was not malicious, so why did he constantly misinterpret her words?
He was a man, and even he had been so enraged and impulsive when he misunderstood her insult to his mother. As a young woman, how must Wei Rao have felt when he insulted her deceased father?
Lu Zhuo looked toward the East Side Room.
He wanted to apologize.
The bleeding from his wound had stopped. Lu Zhuo rose and entered the East Side Room. As he approached the inner chamber door, he heard the sound of a woman’s suppressed sobbing from within.
That crying reminded him of his cousin, Lu Changning.
When his second uncle died in battle, Changning had wept just like this, sobbing between cries.
Lu Zhuo turned and retreated to the Hall.
In the inner chamber, Wei Rao gradually quieted down.She hadn't cried like this in a long time. The last time was during her severe illness, when the pain was unbearable, and she missed her father and mother. She would think: if her father hadn't died, her mother wouldn't have returned to her maiden home; if her mother hadn't returned, she wouldn't have been noticed by Emperor Yuanjia and taken into the palace; if her mother hadn't entered the palace, she wouldn't have been invited to the palace banquet and wouldn't have suffered that calamity due to someone's scheme.
Some people accused her mother of not upholding wifely virtues, saying, "What would it have mattered to remain a widow for such a fine man as your father?"
As a daughter, had Wei Rao never resented her mother? Had she never felt heartache and injustice for her wrongfully deceased father?
But that was her mother—the one who gave birth to her, raised her, and stayed with her longer than her father. Her dearest, closest mother. How could she, out of pity for her father or her own longing for her mother's company, stand by and watch her mother trapped in the cage of Cheng'an Marquis's residence? Her mother was so young, so beautiful—why should she lie alone on a cold pillow night after night, growing old in the depths of the mansion?
Torn between her father and mother, feeling injustice for her father meant resenting her mother, while siding with her mother meant being unfilial to her father. All these years, Wei Rao had been caught between her deceased father and living mother, usually masking it well. But Lu Zhuo's words had not only insulted her parents but also brutally torn open the scars on her heart.
Her father was an upright and honorable true gentleman; her mother had done nothing improper in her personal conduct.
There was no need to cry. She had long known Lu Zhuo looked down on her.
There was clean water in the room. Wei Rao washed her face, sat at the dressing table, and carefully applied makeup to conceal her tear-stained appearance. As for the fine bloodshot veins in her eyes from crying, she left them as they were—there was no helping it.
After straightening her dress, Wei Rao returned to the Hall.
Lu Zhuo was sitting in the master's chair on the northern side. Seeing her emerge, he immediately stood up.
Wei Rao acted as if she hadn't seen him and went straight to the dining table.
The food was still warm. Wei Rao picked up her chopsticks and began eating as if nothing had happened.
Lu Zhuo knew she wasn't as unaffected as she appeared. He walked to Wei Rao's side, cupped his hands in a salute, and apologized: "Your father was just and incorruptible, a model for officials. I shouldn't have impulsively offended him. I beg your forgiveness, Miss."
The little appetite Wei Rao had mustered instantly vanished at his words.
What was the point of apologizing after the insult? To show he was gentlemanly enough to admit his mistakes?
Wei Rao put down her chopsticks and glanced at the hem of Lu Zhuo's robe. "Lu Zhuo, your words insulted both my parents. If divorcing now wouldn't disadvantage me, I would request to return home today and never give you another chance to humiliate me. But remember: from tonight onward, unless it's for official matters, don't speak a word to me. If there are banquets outside, try not to appear together in public. The less we pretend, the better—it sickens me."
Though they had exchanged sharp words many times, this was the first Wei Rao left no room for reconciliation.
After a moment of silence, Lu Zhuo could only agree: "Very well."
With that, he went to the western room to avoid ruining her appetite by staying.
After finishing her meal, Wei Rao walked to the door and saw Bitao and Liuya keeping their distance.
Wei Rao beckoned to them.
The two maids rushed back. Liuya was the first to express concern: "Miss, are you unharmed?"
Wei Rao smiled. "I'm fine. Starting tomorrow, if the heir comes to the Back Residence for meals, have my portion sent to the side room. I'll dine separately from him."
Bitao and Liuya were astounded.Wei Rao returned to her room.
The two maids entered the hall and noticed that the dishes on the young lady's side had been touched, while the Young Lord's side remained almost untouched. Liuya asked Bitao to inquire what had happened between their masters, then approached the west chamber door and asked nervously, "Young Lord, the food has gone cold. Shall I have the kitchen reheat it?"
"No need. Prepare water for washing."
Liuya wrung her hands and ventured, "Your injury..."
"It's fine."
Liuya breathed a sigh of relief. Judging by the Young Lord's attitude, he probably wouldn't bring this matter before the Old Madam.
Bitao emerged from the east chamber as well, having learned nothing. Why the Young Lord and his wife had argued and come to blows remained a mystery to them.
Since Lu Zhuo was to stay in the west chamber, Wei Rao had furnished it completely upon her marriage, including a dressing table.
Lu Zhuo stood before the mirror and saw the wound on the left corner of his forehead. The bleeding cut was only the size of a corn kernel, but the surrounding area was badly swollen.
The teacup had smooth edges, yet Wei Rao had managed to draw blood with it - a testament to both her strength and her hatred.
During his previous convalescence, various medicinal powders for treating wounds had been kept in the west chamber. Lu Zhuo opened that drawer from memory and found the medicines still there.
He took out a jar of ointment for reducing swelling and bruising, sitting on the edge of the bed to apply it evenly.
It was painful, but physical wounds were easy to heal - Wei Rao's emotional wounds would likely prove much harder to mend.
After the lamps were extinguished, Lu Zhuo remained sitting on the bed, recalling the cause of tonight's argument: Zhou Huizhen and Han Liao's marriage.
What had bothered him so much at the time now seemed laughable. What did it matter to him if Han Liao married Zhou Huizhen? No matter how much Zhou Huizhen resembled Wei Rao, she wasn't Wei Rao. What advantage could Han Liao possibly gain over Wei Rao through Zhou Huizhen? Even Shou An Jun wasn't worried about Zhou Huizhen suffering in the Han family, daring to marry her off there. Why should he care?
Lu Zhuo closed his eyes.
He rarely lost his composure like this. For some reason, every time he made a mistake or acted improperly, it always ended up offending Wei Rao. No wonder she treated him with increasing coldness, unwilling to even mention her cousin's marriage to him.
Then again, Wei Rao had never been fond of him from the start - otherwise why would she have proposed the five-year agreement so early?
Sounds came from outside - Wei Rao had risen to practice swordplay.
The swooshing of her sword could be heard even inside the room, filled with deadly determination.
If Wei Rao had been holding her sword instead of a teacup earlier, she probably would have swung it directly at him.
The next morning, Lu Zhuo rose and checked his reflection. The swelling on his forehead had subsided, leaving only a small bruise with a tiny cut in the middle.
Liuya brought in water and, after setting it down, couldn't resist stealing a glance at the Young Lord's forehead.
"My official hat will cover it. No need to worry," Lu Zhuo said mildly as he rolled up his sleeves, having noticed her scrutiny.
Blushing at being caught, Liuya withdrew.
When Lu Zhuo emerged after washing up, he saw that only one breakfast setting had been laid on the table. He suddenly remembered - she had told the maids last night that she would no longer share meals with him.
Lu Zhuo sat down silently and, before picking up his chopsticks, instructed Liuya: "Fetch my official hat and robes. I'll leave directly after eating."
Liuya glanced once more at the Young Lord's wound, understanding that he intended to keep it hidden even from A Gui, and hurried off to the front courtyard.
After Lu Zhuo departed, Liuya approached her mistress and reported the Young Lord's behavior that morning: "Miss, the Young Lord is making every effort to conceal this. He does have some redeeming qualities towards you. Otherwise, just by revealing his injury, the elders in the Duke's Manor alone could make you pay dearly."When Wei Rao hit Lu Zhuo, she hadn't thought twice about it, and even now she felt no fear: "If he really goes around spreading rumors, then there's no need to keep up this fake marriage. I'll go home immediately, and no one from the Lu Family will dare to lecture me."
Liuya immediately stopped speaking up for the heir. If the young lady was this furious, the heir must have committed a grave mistake. Of course, she stood by her lady's side.
Lu Zhuo had successfully concealed his injury with his official hat for two or three days. Just as the bruise was about to fade completely, Qi Zhongkai came to the Divine Martial Army camp, specifically seeking him out to go drinking together.
Thinking of the solitary meals he'd endured these past few days, Lu Zhuo nodded in agreement.
The two rode side by side on horseback. After putting some distance between themselves and the camp, with no one around, Qi Zhongkai began probing: "I heard Han Liao is going to marry the eldest daughter of Shou An Jun's Zhou family?"
Lu Zhuo: "Mm."
Qi Zhongkai's tiger-like eyes widened: "Then won't you two become brothers-in-law? That old lecher Han Liao—back when we were kids, he called your fourth uncle 'brother'! How shameless can he be!"
Qi Zhongkai seemed to recall seeing the eldest Zhou daughter once when he accompanied Emperor Yuanjia to the Secluded Manor, but he had no clear impression of her. Wherever the fourth young lady was present, he couldn't see any other girls. Now that news of Han Liao's marriage to the Zhou family had spread, and hearing that the eldest Zhou daughter was exceptionally beautiful, Qi Zhongkai couldn't help feeling some regret. Had he known Han Liao would marry the eldest Zhou daughter, he would have proposed too. Then he and Lu Zhuo could have become brothers-in-law—two close friends marrying sisters, creating a beautiful story.
"The fourth young lady has another sister, right? I'll go propose too!" Qi Zhongkai declared, as if not wanting to be left behind.
Lu Zhuo shot him a sidelong glance: "Are you treating marriage like a game?"
Qi Zhongkai grinned mischievously: "The fourth young lady is so beautiful, her sisters must all be beauties too. I'd get to marry a beauty and become your brother-in-law—what's not to like?"
Unsure whether he was serious or not, Lu Zhuo only warned: "She only has two unmarried sisters left. The third Wei young lady, Wei Chan, strictly adheres to rules and wouldn't suit your temperament. As for the second Zhou young lady, your mother would never agree."
Lu Zhuo didn't know much about Wei Chan, the third daughter of Cheng'an Marquis's household, but since she harbored such jealousy toward her own cousin that it twisted her features, she probably wasn't a virtuous woman. He didn't want Qi Zhongkai impulsively marrying her. As for the second Zhou young lady, her personal qualities mattered little—her family status and reputation alone would never pass muster with Qi Zhongkai's mother, Madam Marquis of Pingxi.
Hearing this analysis, Qi Zhongkai felt somewhat disappointed, though fortunately he'd only been speaking offhandedly and wasn't truly determined to become Lu Zhuo's brother-in-law.
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