Jiang Huaichu and Xiao Yun were escorted into the bedroom.
Inside, red candles flickered, the room brightly lit and awash in festive crimson.
The attendants behind them blushed and said, “…Wangye, Wangfei, rest early.”
Xiao Yun suddenly turned around, eyes wide like a startled dog. “I—”
But the attendants had already thoughtfully shut the door for them.
Jiang Huaichu looked at the slowly closing door, his chest tightening. “Wait—”
The door shut firmly without hesitation.
Only he and Xiao Yun remained in the room.
It was Jiang Huaichu’s bedroom—a familiar space, the air filled with calming agarwood incense—but it could no longer settle his nerves.
Xiao Yun stared at him without blinking.
Jiang Huaichu lowered his gaze. “…It’s still early. I’m going to read for a bit. If you’re tired, go ahead and sleep first.”
He started walking toward the desk, but before he got far, Xiao Yun had already caught up from behind, scooped him up at the waist, and lifted him into his arms. His long legs hung over Xiao Yun’s arm.
Jiang Huaichu was startled. Watching him stride straight toward the bed, he exclaimed, “…Don’t!”
Xiao Yun teased, “What did I say last night?”
“Xiao Yun,” Jiang Huaichu’s face flushed red. “We have a child. I’m not arguing with you. Let me down.”
“I’m not arguing either. I told you last night—it’s your fault for tempting me. This is our wedding night.”
“Xiao Yun, he’ll know! Just wait until after he’s born…” he whispered, trying to negotiate. “Please?”
Xiao Yun sighed softly.
At this stage of the pregnancy, Jiang Huaichu always felt like the baby inside could hear and feel everything—and honestly, it did seem that way. Every time Xiao Yun touched him, whether it was due to Jiang Huaichu’s tension or the baby’s actual awareness, the little one would always start moving.
It wasn’t too bad at first, but the movements became more frequent, always occurring at the worst possible moments, just when they were losing themselves in passion. Xiao Yun found it fascinating, but Jiang Huaichu would be so mortified he’d bury his face and try to shut out the world.
Eventually, Jiang Huaichu became more and more reluctant to let Xiao Yun touch him, as if some tiny creature was constantly spying on them.
“Let him know. This is his father showing love to his other father,” Xiao Yun said matter-of-factly, laying Jiang Huaichu gently on the bed.
Jiang Huaichu tried to get back up, but Xiao Yun pressed him down by the shoulders and leaned in to kiss him.
“Chuchu, this is our bridal chamber.”
The kiss was passionate, searing, yet gentle and lingering—a perfect fusion of love and desire, enough to make one’s head spin and heart race.
Jiang Huaichu’s heartbeat quickened, and he turned his face away slightly.
Xiao Yun murmured, “Chuchu, I got you a gift.”
Jiang Huaichu looked at him.
With a mysterious smile, Xiao Yun raised two fingers to his lips and whistled. Jiang Huaichu blinked in confusion. The next moment, a small creature darted out from who-knows-where and scampered to his feet.
Jiang Huaichu looked down, face stiffening—he couldn’t help it, the corners of his mouth twitched.
Xiao Yun had gifted him, according to his own words, a noble-blooded wolfdog pup. It sat obediently by his feet, wagging its tail. Around its neck was a small red embroidered ball—just like the one Xiao Yun wore earlier, but many times smaller. Because the pup’s legs were so short, the ball still looked comically oversized.
It was absolutely ridiculous.
“What are you doing?” Jiang Huaichu looked at Xiao Yun.
Only he could pull off something like this.
Xiao Yun raised an eyebrow proudly and whistled again. The pup immediately started wobbling its head at Jiang Huaichu, tail wagging with excitement.
The red ball around its neck swayed with every move. Jiang Huaichu’s heart instantly softened. He bent down and reached out, and the little pup came over, rubbing against his hand and circling around it twice in pure joy.
A small smile involuntarily crept to Jiang Huaichu’s lips.
Watching this tender scene between man and dog, Xiao Yun suddenly leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Do you know what ‘Xiao Yun’ is doing right now?”
Jiang Huaichu blinked and looked at him in confusion.
With a completely serious expression, Xiao Yun whispered solemnly, “Xiao Yun is seducing you.”
Jiang Huaichu froze—and then his expression instantly darkened.
Before he could react, Xiao Yun smirked mischievously and declared, “Here comes your dear husband!”
He pounced. Jiang Huaichu tried to get up immediately, but Xiao Yun pinned his wrists above his head, holding him down on the bed. He looked down at the angry, flustered Jiang Huaichu and said in a dead-serious tone: “Really—this isn’t just lust. It’s to make labor easier. That kid’s head is huge—you think it won’t hurt? We need to prepare.”
Jiang Huaichu stared at him in disbelief, face flaming red. He raised a foot to kick—but Xiao Yun was quicker, blocking his knee and grabbing his ankle.
In the room rang Xiao Yun’s laughter and Jiang Huaichu’s furious scolding.
The red candles burned high. The night was deep.
…
Three and a Half Months Later.
The Great Ning Empire moved swiftly. In less than three months, the capital relocation was complete. Jiang Huaichu and Xiao Yun remained in the southern city of Nanruo until the transition was done, then moved to the new capital.
The new city was nearly complete, fresh and vibrant, full of life and activity. There was still much to organize, and the city buzzed with the energy of renewal.
The southern relocation didn’t mean the old capital would disappear—it still existed, now called the “secondary capital.” Officials who were aging could take honorary positions and return there to retire and enjoy their later years in comfort.
The officials of Great Ning had been deeply dissatisfied at first, but once news of Duan Wang’s pregnancy got out, they no longer had anything to say.
After all, their emperor was already twenty-five years old, with no empress and no heir. For those concerned about the dynasty’s future and the stability of the nation, what more could they object to?
What’s more, aside from being a man, he surpassed the standards of an empress in every other way.
In the royal family, the position of the empress and the birth of heirs were of utmost importance. Without a settled empress, an emperor lacked stability, and without an heir, unrest in the court and country was only a matter of time. Ambitious people could easily exploit such weaknesses to bring disaster to the nation. This sort of thing had happened many times throughout history.
Whatever concerns people had, when it came to the emperor, his affairs were state affairs. Everyone hoped he would live a good, peaceful life—warm bedchambers, children in his arms within three years, always smiling and never stirring up trouble.
Because if the one at the top wasn’t happy, it would trickle down—those around him would be unhappy, and those further down would feel it too. In the end, it would be the common people who suffered most.
So now that the emperor was content and settled, it was an enormous relief.
And as it turned out, there really was nothing new under the sun. Even matters of great importance could be managed. The biggest issues were those left unspoken, and once brought to light, they often turned out to be nothing much at all.
…
Jiang Huaichu hadn’t asked Xiao Yun to make him empress. He didn’t want to live in the harem—too stiff and restrictive. He’d be constantly watched by conservative, rule-bound officials, expected to act properly, embody traditional virtues, and manage all the palace affairs on Xiao Yun’s behalf.
Anyone could do those things; he didn’t need to. He had his own matters to handle.
He didn’t want to get involved in Great Ning’s politics either—just as, if it wasn’t necessary, he wouldn’t want Xiao Yun interfering in the affairs of Nanruo.
They trusted each other completely and didn’t mind stepping back, but that didn’t mean the court officials of Nanruo or Great Ning felt the same.
After all, outsiders hadn’t lived through everything they had. They wouldn’t understand the foundation of that trust.
They didn’t want to place unnecessary pressure on each other, so they kept things simple. Being together didn’t mean they had to be alike in everything. Some boundaries were necessary to make love easier and freer, not something that became exhausting.
Because of that, Xiao Yun had arranged a residence for him outside the palace.
…
In Great Ning, everyone—from court officials to commoners—knew that the Jiang residence on Luochuan Street was the empress’s residence. Of course… it was also the emperor’s.
The most unruly emperor in Great Ning’s history had finally turned being emperor into just a job, and the imperial palace into a construction site. Every day he dove headfirst into the warmth of his wife and future child at the Jiang residence… though the child hadn’t been born yet.
The people joked that ministers might not be able to find the emperor during morning court sessions, but if they went to the Jiang residence in the middle of the night, they were sure to find him there.
Luckily, the emperor was still young and vigorous, and hadn’t neglected state affairs in the least. And right now, nothing mattered more than the Jiang residence.
Gossipy citizens had counted the days and figured that if nothing unexpected happened, the empress would likely give birth within the next two weeks. So ears were perked up, and eyes kept glancing toward the heavily guarded Jiang residence, awaiting the joyous news.
Jiang Residence.
In the corridor, Xie Zhe was supporting Jiang Huaichu as they slowly walked along. Jiang Huaichu asked, “Where’s His Majesty?”
Xie Zhe was silent for a moment, then gave him a look.
“What is it?” Jiang Huaichu asked.
Xie Zhe cleared his throat, looking like he didn’t know how to say it: “You’ll see when you go in.”
Jiang Huaichu paused, then nodded without pressing further. He looked at the deepening dark circles under Xie Zhe’s eyes and asked with concern, “Commander, have you not been sleeping well these past two nights?”
Xie Zhe looked even more conflicted. After hesitating, he couldn’t help but say, “Just let him stay with you tonight.”
Jiang Huaichu picked up on the meaning behind those words and froze for a moment. “I didn’t chase him away.”
Xie Zhe was stunned. “You didn’t… His Majesty came over himself at night?!”
Jiang: “What’s wrong?”
Xie Zhe hesitated, then leaned closer and said quietly, “…He said you didn’t want to see him, so he’s been sleeping in my room.”
Jiang Huaichu’s brows drew together sharply. “I never said that.”
After a brief pause, seeing how haggard Xie Zhe looked, and knowing Xiao Yun’s temperament, he could guess a few things. He asked casually, “What did he… do at night?”
Xie Zhe looked like he couldn’t take it anymore. After a few seconds of hesitation, he tossed aside any pretense of brotherhood and told him directly: “He… just yelled your name while humping the bedboard.”
“…The bedboard?” Jiang Huaichu blinked in confusion.
Xie Zhe coughed as a hint.
Jiang Huaichu froze, then his face instantly flushed red. “He…”
It had been over two months since they’d been intimate. Jiang Huaichu knew Xiao Yun was struggling, but he never imagined…
Even though he’d helped him by hand, Xiao Yun still… still…
“That was the okay part,” Xie Zhe said, holding his forehead with a deeply embarrassed expression. “He cries in his sleep now.”
Jiang Huaichu could hardly believe Xie Zhe was talking about Xiao Yun: “Cries?”
“Well, not full-on sobbing, more like muffled howling into the blanket. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he clearly wasn’t in a good mood. You should talk to him when you have time.”
Jiang Huaichu’s brow tightened, his heart sinking. “I understand.”
He looked at Xie Zhe. “Thank you. You’ve had a hard time.”
Xie Zhe waved it off, his inner suffering beyond words.
As the two spoke, they walked out of the corridor and into the room—where Jiang Huaichu immediately saw Xiao Yun. His face, which had held a trace of unease, froze.
“This stitch, this whole row—oh no, I stitched the entire line wrong! How do I even take it out?!”
“Taifei! Come here, help me look!!”
Xiao Yun was sitting upright on a chair, holding a pink double-sided embroidery in his left hand. His large fingers pinched a needle as fine as a strand of hair. Shoulders tense, arms stiff, he stitched cautiously, one needle at a time. Suddenly, he jumped up in alarm and called out to Taifei sitting across from him, who was working on a blue embroidery.
Taifei immediately set her embroidery aside and came over. She bent down and pointed to the mistake Xiao Yun had made, then patiently showed him how to unpick it.
The atmosphere was harmonious and warm. Standing there, Jiang Huaichu felt completely out of place.
“…” He didn’t know how long he’d been standing there before he stiffly turned his neck to glance at Xie Zhe beside him.
“…” Xie Zhe gave a forced smile and nodded slightly at him.
Men had their pride, and married men even more so.
He definitely knew more of Xiao Yun’s embarrassing secrets than Jiang Huaichu did.
Following Xiao Yun around every day, he really didn’t know what had gotten into him lately.
He strongly suspected that if Jiang Huaichu had known the emperor was like this, he might have ended up someone else’s wife instead.
Turns out love really does start with deception.
Xiao Yun was still fully focused on his embroidery, but the moment he looked up and saw Jiang Huaichu, his already tense expression tightened a few degrees further. “Why are you here?! Why didn’t you send someone to notify me ahead of time?!”
He leapt up, tossed aside the embroidery, and in just a few strides was in front of Jiang Huaichu.
He had been quite jumpy lately. Though Jiang Huaichu had tried to get used to it, he still occasionally got startled. After hearing what Xie Zhe said earlier and observing more closely, Jiang Huaichu had to admit—Xiao Yun had indeed been acting strange these past few days.
He couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but everything just felt off—like a string pulled so taut it had been tied in a dead knot.
Jiang Huaichu said gently, “It’s fine.”
“How can it be fine?! It’s been nine and a half months! The birth could happen any time now! I asked the imperial physician—they said labor could start whenever! How can that be nothing?!”
Xiao Yun was clearly anxious, his voice thundering. Jiang Huaichu quickly said, “…I was wrong. I was careless. Next time I go out, I’ll make sure you’re informed in advance.”
Only then did Xiao Yun’s expression ease a little. He reached out to support Jiang Huaichu, his right arm circling his waist to help carry the burden of the heavy belly weighing him down.
Jiang Huaichu had gotten quite heavy.
After just a few steps toward the chair, Xiao Yun fretted, “Tired? Are you tired? Do you want me to carry you?”
Jiang Huaichu looked at the chair just a few dozen steps away. “…No need.”
“Are you sure?” Xiao Yun eyed him suspiciously.
Jiang Huaichu: “…I can walk.”
Xiao Yun, half-doubting, warned, “Don’t push yourself!”
“…,” Jiang Huaichu thought to himself, Something really isn’t right.
This jittery, dramatic streak had started about a week ago. He’d assumed it was because the due date was near, and Xiao Yun was just being extra attentive—but now… something definitely felt off.
He felt a little guilty for having overlooked it.
Taifei chimed in, “Let him walk! He needs to stay active!”
Xiao Yun “oh’d” obediently and finally calmed down a bit—but still kept his eyes glued to the floor in front of Jiang Huaichu’s boots, as if terrified an ant might trip him.
Once Jiang Huaichu was seated, Xiao Yun chatted with him for a bit, then turned back to focus on his embroidery lesson with Taifei.
Jiang Huaichu was handed two plates of pastries and left alone on the sidelines. He blinked, stunned—When did embroidery become more interesting to Xiao Yun than me…?
Sitting behind Xiao Yun, Jiang Huaichu casually asked, “Since when were you so into… embroidery?”
“Oh,” Xiao Yun replied without turning around, “I went to check yesterday—Taifei only had time to embroider for a son. There’s nothing done for a daughter’s three-year-old clothes yet. That won’t do! What if it’s a girl? You’re due any day now—we might need it right away. I have to hurry up and get it done!”
“…,” Jiang Huaichu stared at Xiao Yun in disbelief. Seeing no trace of irony in his expression, he turned a stiff gaze toward Taifei.
She nodded solemnly, as if proud of having helped Xiao Yun down this path.
She was the one in the Jiang family who got along best with Xiao Yun.
Jiang Huaichu: “…If it’s a girl, she can just wear the boy’s clothes.”
Xiao Yun looked horrified: “How can that be?! If a girl wears boy clothes from young, she’ll grow up thinking she’s a man!”
“…” Jiang Huaichu was certain his ears were working fine—but he was completely baffled.
How had Xiao Yun absorbed so many bizarre ideas in just a few days? It was getting hard to even hold a conversation with him.
Was it him who was too indifferent about the pregnancy?
Jiang Huaichu began to question himself. Maybe Xiao Yun’s behavior is what normal expectant fathers are like?
That doubt lingered until after lunch. Jiang Huaichu read for a bit, then realized Xiao Yun was missing.
He hadn’t been feeling well the past few days and had focused all his attention on the baby. He’d unintentionally neglected Xiao Yun. But in just two or three days, things had clearly gotten out of hand.
Feeling a pang of guilt, he asked around and went to find him. Gently pushing open the door, he called out, “Xiao Yun, can we talk—”
He froze.
Wood shavings flew through the air, almost like molten iron bursting in all directions.
Inside the room, the hem of Xiao Yun’s luxurious robe had been flung over his thigh. His left leg was boldly propped up on a chair, while his right hand gripped a saw, sawing away at a wooden plank with a jarring screech.
His arm, hair, and clothes were covered in sawdust and sweat. Unbothered, he wiped his face with his sleeve and kept going.
Jiang Huaichu’s voice trembled: “What are you doing?!”
Without even turning his head, Xiao Yun replied with gusto, “Chu Chu, I’m building a bookshelf for our kid! It’s different when it’s handmade by their dad!”
Jiang Huaichu: “…”
