Chapter Seventy-One: Daily Life

Bai Shao stood watch by the door as Jiang Hu strode up with wide steps. She quickly raised her voice, “You’re back!”

Jiang Hu walked right past her without pausing, pushing the door open and stepping inside. Bai Shao tried to stop him but failed, so she called out again, louder this time, “Miss might still be resting. Perhaps you should wait!”

Mo Nianian was frantically hiding something, but when she heard the commotion, she stiffened and sat upright. “You’re back,” she said.

Jiang Hu’s gaze softened, warmth flickering in his eyes. “Yes. Did my master miss her servant?”

“I suppose… I suppose I did,” Mo Nianian answered distractedly, her eyes darting repeatedly toward the corner of the bed. Had she really hidden it well enough just now?

“I missed you very much too, Master.” Every moment more than the last—he was utterly addicted to Mo Nianian, hopelessly so.

She gave a half-hearted acknowledgment. Jiang Hu pulled out the object hidden beneath the quilt with one large hand. Mo Nianian’s eyes widened in alarm. She lunged at him. “Wait—!”

But she was still a second too late. Jiang Hu had already read the large, bold characters on the cover. His expression turned odd, his gaze growing sultry. “Master, do you like this sort of thing?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. If he’d known this sooner, there would have been no need for restraint.

Mo Nianian took a deep breath and snatched back the treasure Lady Mo had pressed into her trousseau. “Just observing, is that not allowed?”

If she wasn’t embarrassed, then only others would be.

Jiang Hu really had no sense of tact. Couldn’t he just pretend not to see?

Jiang Hu chuckled softly. “Of course you can. Whatever Master wants to do, you may.”

Mo Nianian put on a show of toughness. “Then why are you so meddlesome?”

With that, she got up, intent on locking the thing away in her cabinet. She never wanted to lay eyes on it again. Was there anything more mortifying than being caught with explicit comics?

A social death of epic proportions.

But Jiang Hu pulled her back, wrapping his arm around her waist. He leaned in, breath tickling her ear. “So, Master, do you want to put it into practice?”

Jiang Hu’s voice, intentionally lowered, was charming to the extreme.

He was so close that Mo Nianian felt entirely ill at ease. She wrenched herself free. “Thank you, but no.”

Jiang Hu drew her back again, placing her hand on his own body, his breath warm as spring orchids. “Master, you truly won’t try? I promise to satisfy you.”

Her hand landed squarely on his abs—eight defined muscles, each more impressive than the last. Mo Nianian was consumed by envy for that physique.

For a moment, her mind went blank—maybe she really had been addled by those comics. She reached out and stroked him twice.

Damn, this body was just too good.

Jiang Hu let out a low, unsteady moan, the corners of his eyes flushing red. His gaze trembled. “Master, may I?”

Mo Nianian’s senses snapped back. Realizing what she’d done, she wanted nothing more than to chop off her offending hand.

She shoved Jiang Hu away. “May your head!”

“Master…” Jiang Hu, caught off guard, fell onto the bed. His eyes were red as he looked up at her, at a loss.

Mo Nianian coughed twice. “Jiang Hu, I made myself clear before: I don’t like you. Our marriage is due to special circumstances.”

Desire faded from Jiang Hu’s eyes. “I know, Master.”

That was why he had to make sure she would never leave him.

Jiang Hu’s resolve hardened.

“So I hope you’ll keep your distance and not cross any lines.”

If it hadn’t been for her own reckless hand today, she might have given Jiang Hu a beating.

Jiang Hu was silent for a long time before he finally nodded.

Mo Nianian knew her words were rather heartless. She rubbed her nose. “I was at fault, truly. If you can’t accept this, I could help you marry a few more wives.”

“No!” Jiang Hu’s voice rose several notches, his face unreadable to Mo Nianian. “I only want you, Master.”

His gaze was so unwavering that Mo Nianian felt momentarily dazed. “Even if I can never love you, you’re still willing?”

“I am.” He looked up at her, deeply and intently. In those black eyes, there was room for no one but her—she filled his entire world.

Mo Nianian felt like the worst kind of heartbreaker, the sort who walks away without a backward glance.

She truly did not love Jiang Hu, but her mission required her to stay by his side.

Jiang Hu’s affection was as direct as it was fervent, completely unrestrained.

He remembered every word she said, and never did anything excessive again.

He committed to memory all her likes and dislikes, attending personally to everything about her life. Mo Nianian lived more lavishly than she’d ever done in the Regent’s household.

At first, she felt a twinge of guilt, but gradually she became used to it.

Well, could she really be blamed?

If she kept Jiang Hu at arm’s length and refused his help, he’d quietly build up malice points. But if she let him take care of everything, he’d be overjoyed, even going so far as to reduce his malice points on occasion.

What could Mo Nianian say about a leading man like this? The only thing to do was to lie back and enjoy it.

At first, the Regent and his wife worried about Mo Nianian, coming every few days to check on her.

They saw everything Jiang Hu did for her, and over time, their nitpicking turned into unconscious support.

After all, Jiang Hu really did serve Mo Nianian as if she were a precious treasure.

Every morning, Jiang Hu would pick out her clothes, style her hair, and serve her breakfast he’d made himself. Only after she’d eaten did he begin his own work.

He handled every aspect of her life personally—she had become so lazy she barely bothered to pour herself a glass of water.

The Regent’s hostility toward Jiang Hu lessened considerably, and now and then he’d even speak to him with sympathy.

Lady Mo went further, treating Jiang Hu as her own son. She frequently whispered in Mo Nianian’s ear, urging her to be kinder to him.

Mo Nianian’s ears were nearly callused from hearing it, but Jiang Hu always replied that he was doing it of his own free will—it was his honor.

Mo Nianian could not fathom what Jiang Hu hoped to gain.

Her conscience pricked her just a little, so she quietly dealt with the traps and dangers Jiang Hu would face in the future.

That evened the score, didn’t it? Debts of gratitude were hard to repay, and she did have a bit of conscience left.

Her methods were direct and ruthless—she simply eliminated those who would later frame, insult, or betray Jiang Hu.

She considered her actions flawless, but Jiang Hu still noticed something was off. He said nothing, silently cleaning up after her.

His master harbored secrets beyond his knowing.

He’d once been gravely injured, wounds so severe even the greatest physician in history could not have cured him.

But his master had done it—with a single pill.

Everyone knew the Regent’s daughter was arrogant, wild, and unskilled.

Yet his master was more powerful than even he was.

He dared not probe into any of it. Some instinct warned him that, if he ever uncovered the truth, his master would disappear from his world forever.