Chapter 2: The Night Escort

Jiang Wu’s heart skipped a beat.

Could Chu Ling have a dog’s nose? They had already been through a banquet, yet he could still smell the fragrance?

Fortunately, this was the fifth year, not the first, so she quickly steadied herself and looked down to sniff, feigning confusion. “Is there a scent? How come I don’t smell anything?”

She smiled and lifted her head, intending to brush it off by saying maybe she caught the scent somewhere, but when her gaze met Chu Ling’s deep, piercing black eyes, which seemed to see through everything, she found herself speechless.

She even had the illusion that Chu Ling knew everything.

No, whether it was the first year or the fifth, she couldn’t remain composed in front of him.

Luckily, Chu Ling’s question seemed casual; he quickly turned his gaze to the stage, as if indifferent to the answer.

On the stage, the play “Wang Zhaojun’s Journey Beyond the Border” was being performed—someone had arranged it to please the matriarch. Jiang Wu thought it was simply perfect. She didn’t know if the old lady was truly pleased, but Chu Ling certainly was.

Of course, that was just Jiang Wu’s guess—no expression of happiness ever crossed Chu Ling’s face. His solemn features suggested he was lost in thought.

Seeing that his attention had shifted away from her, Jiang Wu finally relaxed and even found some humor in her heart.

It was understandable that he showed no joy—after all, an old lover meeting again would stir a complex mix of emotions. What exact feelings Chu Ling held now were hard to tell, especially since Chu Yan had been gone for over a decade, not just a few days.

Now that he stood above all others, no one dared to speak to him, not even the Duchess.

No one dared to confront him, so they could only seize upon Jiang Wu to admonish.

Before she left, her mother-in-law had lectured her again: a woman must honor her husband above all; the husband is like heaven.

Honestly, the customs in Yan were liberal, with few restrictions on women. Divorce and remarriage were common among the common folk. Husbands doting on their wives and lowering themselves wasn’t rare either; people did not look down on it but rather considered it a noble tale.

But Jiang Wu’s husband was Chu Ling.

Was he her heaven? No—he was heaven to all.

Men and women alike were equally insignificant before absolute power.

So whatever the matriarch said, Jiang Wu had to comply.

At least, appearances had to be maintained.

***

Jiang Wu felt a little flustered as Chu Ling entered his main courtyard with her.

She didn’t understand—now that the rightful wife was returning, shouldn’t Chu Ling be so agitated that he wouldn’t want to see anyone?

Surely he wouldn’t be in the mood for this sort of thing?

But the reality proved that no one could guess Chu Ling’s thoughts. After carefully following him inside, she heard him say, “Go bathe.”

“Go bathe” was Chu Ling’s usual code.

Jiang Wu’s heart sank completely.

She didn’t need to do anything—everything was already prepared. But her usual bath and the baths she took when staying overnight with Chu Ling were completely different matters.

The bath was already laid out, petals strewn across the warm pool, and countless maids were bustling around. Jiang Wu had lost count and didn’t bother to—she tried to imagine them as cabbages moving on their own to lessen her shame.

In truth, that wasn’t far from the truth. They worked expressionlessly and methodically to cleanse and dress her. The scene rivaled even the emperor’s favoring of his concubines.

Jiang Wu thought she should find Chu Ling a few more concubines so he could “flip the cards” more often—that would make the experience feel more authentic.

But she dared only to think this. Having tried once before, she had seen Chu Ling’s anger surfacing for the first time. The poor girl—if Jiang Wu hadn’t fought to keep her close, she might not have survived.

Chu Ling was always a cruel man—not brutal in a fit of rage, but coldly uttering inhuman words. From his tone, you couldn’t tell whether he intended to dine or kill. Jiang Wu often felt he was devoid of emotion.

Her composure shattered when a maid handed her the clothes she was to wear that day.

“Clothes” was an overstatement—they were just scraps of fabric. She doubted these tattered rags would cover anything.

Not only was she unsettled, but the usually expressionless “cabbages” blushed and averted their eyes, even giggling softly.

Only the leader remained calm: “Madam, this is the master’s order. Please wear it.”

Jiang Wu felt an unspoken humiliation; the faint laughter around her was mockery.

Of course, they laughed. Perhaps they even whispered behind her back, questioning how a high lady of the house was no more than a plaything for amusement.

No, even prostitutes wouldn’t wear such garments.

That was probably the meaning of a substitute—the idea that Chu Ling would never allow his beloved to stoop to such degrading acts to please others. Of course not.

In Jiang Wu’s memory, Chu Ling was gentle and protective toward Chu Yan, but even the gentlest have a cruel side. Now, facing a face so similar to his beloved’s, he could abuse freely without restraint. The feeling of wielding power was intoxicating—who wouldn’t want to be the one pleased?

Finally, wrapped in a thin outer robe, the group escorted her back to the room.

Chu Ling was sitting on the bed, with a luminous pearl placed inside the canopy, bathing the chamber in an ethereal glow.

Jiang Wu suddenly wished the maids wouldn’t leave, but after ushering her inside, they quietly withdrew and thoughtfully closed the door.

They were alone.

Her body stiffened as if it were not her own; she lowered her head, hands unconsciously clutching the outer robe.

Then came that authoritative, emotionless voice.

“Undress.”

Jiang Wu hesitated, but she knew there was no escape. Slowly, she released her grip.

The silk slid down her smooth skin, leaving only the scant fabric beneath. Whether from theI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.