Chapter 2: It's Broad Daylight—Behave Properly
Yan Xuerui nodded indifferently, then turned to the head maid, implying that with the Marquisate currently in need of staff, there was no need to fuss over her.
The head maid dared not agree, quickly flattering, "You jest, Madam. Everyone knows your compassionate heart! They all vie to serve in the main courtyard. It was merely that girl’s misfortune to be bought out by her family, which allowed our Yao Er to land such incredible luck."
Redeemed?
Yao Er’s eyelids twitched. "That girl" referred to the former flower room maid. Earlier, the head maid had clearly stated she had accidentally fallen into a well, which was why Yao Er was chosen to fill the vacancy. Now, suddenly, the story had changed.
Yao Er continued listening. From their conversation, she learned that all affairs within the estate—from social engagements and reciprocal gift-giving to internal procurement and allocation—were managed by the Dowager of the marquis' estate. Traditionally, the authority to manage the household was the foundation of a woman’s security in the inner quarters. As the saying goes, it takes years for a daughter-in-law to endure hardship to become a mother-in-law. Though Madam Yan was stunningly beautiful, she was already in her thirties and still hadn’t achieved this status, leaving the Dowager, who ought to be enjoying her retirement, to handle the household duties.
Could it be that the Dowager looked down on her merchant family background?
Yao Er felt something was amiss. Along the way, the servants showed utmost respect toward Madam Yan, fearing neglecting their duties. If the Dowager, who controlled the entire household’s provisions, truly disliked her, she certainly wouldn’t allow her to live so comfortably. For instance, a daughter-in-law was required to pay morning respects to her mother-in-law daily. It was already well past the usual hour for such greetings, yet Madam Yan showed no intention of going, and everyone in the room seemed to consider this perfectly normal.
From the undertones of their conversation, she even sensed a hint of the Dowager’s pity for this low-status daughter-in-law.
It seemed the marquis' estate was not as simple as she had imagined.
While no one was paying attention to her, Yao Er glanced again at Yan Xuerui, who seemed somewhat fatigued, rubbing her forehead. Her spring gown slipped, revealing a slender, pale arm. Her skin was as white as freshly peeled lychee, almost translucent, delicate and fragile, exuding a frail, helpless beauty.
"Oh! Look at me, chatting with you, Madam, and forgetting my proper duties! My apologies, my apologies!"
Noticing her weariness, the head maid slapped her forehead, bowed, and hurriedly took her leave. Yao Er’s many questions were left unanswered. After the two had left, Bi He walked behind Yan Xuerui and gently massaged her temples.
"Madam, shall I close the window so you can rest a while longer?"
Bi He asked cautiously. Madam had just given birth and completed her postpartum confinement when news arrived that the Second Master was returning to the capital by imperial decree. The eldest young master, Ming Lan, had followed the Second Master to serve at the border since he was twelve—five years now. He usually only returned during the New Year, but this time, he would surely come back to the capital with him.
The Dowager had long since declared that Madam should focus on recuperating and not bother with household chores. But Madam was concerned about the eldest young master and personally arranged his food, clothing, lodging, and transportation. The little young master hadn’t been weaned yet, and though there was a wet nurse, he was picky and preferred his mother’s milk. Unable to bear his cries, Madam often had to unfasten her clothes to feed him.
Lately, the estate had been decorated with lanterns and streamers. Madam had always been a light sleeper, and the marquis, for some unknown reason, often kept the main courtyard lit until late at night, only settling down at dawn.
The marquis hadn’t always been so inconsiderate. She had even witnessed the stern marquis kneel down to put on Madam’s silk socks. When Madam was pregnant with the little young master and her legs swelled, the marquis personally learned massage techniques from the old imperial physician to ease her discomfort.
The marquis treated Madam well, something all the maids noticed. He remembered the days when Madam suffered monthly pains and would return early from the Eastern Palace just to warm her abdomen. So why, just after Madam had emerged from confinement, was he in such a hurry?
Bi He didn’t understand. She didn’t dare ask Yan Xuerui, let alone Gu Yan. She could only half-complain, "The marquis really... couldn't he wait just a few more days..."
"You ah~"
Yan Xuerui smiled, lightly tapping Bi He’s forehead with her fingertip. "Watch your tongue. Be careful."
Yan Xuerui knew exactly why Gu Yan had suddenly been behaving oddly, but she had no intention of recounting old grievances to Bi He, nor did she care to waste words arguing with Gu Yan.
It wasn’t that she refused to explain—every time she tried, he grew angry, and when he was angry, she was the one who suffered. Despite his age, his strength hadn’t diminished over the years.
Truth be told, the root of it all was Gu Yan himself. Their beginning had been fraught because of that misunderstanding. Stubborn by nature, she had been reluctant to become his concubine. She fled, he pursued, and the commotion unsettled everyone. In his youth, Gu Yan had been ruthless and cruel, and she had been terrified. In desperation, she had concocted a foolish plan.
She had seduced his younger brother, Gu Yuan, plotting with him to kill his elder brother.
Clearly, she had underestimated the depth of their brotherly bond.
And overestimated Gu Yan’s magnanimity.
That failed seduction, an old history from years ago, had cost her dearly. The whip scar on her back still hadn’t faded. She had long since let it go, but surprisingly, he still remembered.
Yan Xuerui lowered her dark lashes and rubbed her temple as if she had a headache.
She had been exhausted lately. Her youngest son hadn’t been weaned yet, crying and fussing incessantly. After tending to the little one, there was the older one to care for, leaving her utterly drained.
She rose from the daybed and said softly, "Let the bed curtains down."
She would catch a few more hours of sleep. After all, she had little to do. Her mother-in-law managed the household affairs with meticulous care, and due to her pregnancy, she had temporarily set aside her scent shop. With nothing to occupy her time, she busied herself with tending the flowers in the garden and experimenting with various scents.
In her youth, she had aspired to create extraordinary fragrances and dreamed of achieving fame, but she lacked precious ingredients—even the cleverest housewife can't cook without rice. Now, even the rarest varieties were trivial to her. Gu Yan had even sought out forgotten ancient formulas for her, but she no longer had the drive of her younger days.
Perhaps she had truly grown old. At fifteen, Yan Xuerui had been stubborn and unruly, willing to bleed against the southern wall named "Gu Yan" in defiance. At twenty-five, she had resented the shackles he placed on her, vowing to break free, arguing with him constantly. Now, nearing thirty-five, she found this stable, uneventful life rather agreeable.
Yan Xuerui let down her dark hair and lay down but didn’t close her eyes immediately. After tossing and turning several times, she suddenly spoke through the bed curtain embroidered with double lotus and ruyi patterns: "Keep an eye on that girl named Yao Er."
***
She slept until noon, just as her youngest son awoke. Yan Xuerui opened her robe to feed him, amusing the little one until he giggled. Just then, Gu Yan returned from the Eastern Palace.
His tall figure carried the chill of early spring. Dressed in a dark purple official robe embroidered with qilin patterns, his posture was straight as a pine as he stepped slowly across the threshold.
His entrance instantly dampened the cheerful atmosphere in the room. Bi He and the two wet nurses grew fearful, falling silent after bowing. The smile on Yan Xuerui’s lips paused briefly. She set down the rattle, turned slightly to conceal the full, snow-white curve of her chest, and stood up.
The wet nurse quietly retreated with the swaddled infant. Yan Xuerui poured a cup of hot tea and offered it to Gu Yan, saying, "There’s a cold snap—you should have worn an extra layer when going out."
Gu Yan grunted in acknowledgment and drank the cup in one swallow. As Yan Xuerui reached to take the teacup, her fingertips inevitably brushed against the back of his hand. Suddenly, Gu Yan covered her hand, his fingers lightly locking with hers, their palms pressed tightly together.
His long fingers, rough with calluses, made her stiffen, her breath catching slightly.
Perhaps because their beginning had been so traumatic, even now, she was deeply afraid of intimacy—afraid of his touch, to the point of trembling. Though he had long since abandoned those cruel methods and grown gentler with her, her body seemed to retain its memory. Whenever he touched her, she couldn’t help but tense and resist.
Suppressing her discomfort, Yan Xuerui bit her lip and looked at him. "In broad daylight, behave properly."
Her eyes were beautiful, holding the spring waters of the Jiangnan region. Even when scolding, they carried a tender, enchanting softness.
"Mm."
His thumb stroked the red mark on her wrist as Gu Yan held her hand against his chest and instructed gently, "Close the window tightly."
Yan Xuerui was surprised and fell silent.
She had suffered from a congenital cold condition since childhood, often with cold hands and feet, and endured severe abdominal pain during her monthly courses. Numerous imperial physicians and folk healers had examined her, diagnosing it as a congenital cold syndrome that could only be managed, not cured. She needed to avoid exposure to cold.
When their fingers had touched earlier, he must have noticed her cold hands and was trying to warm them.
So she had misunderstood. Yan Xuerui felt somewhat embarrassed and tried to pull her hand back from his embrace.
"Don’t move."
Gu Yan’s brow furrowed slightly. His grip was iron-strong, refusing to release her, aggravating the bruise on her already marked wrist.
"It hurts."
Yan Xuerui couldn’t help but cry out. She looked up at him, her beautiful eyes misty like a spring lake. From Gu Yan’s perspective, the delicate beauty with her brows knit in distress was a sight that inspired pity.
Gu Yan loosened his grip, lowered his head to massage her reddened wrist, and sighed as if with a headache. "So delicate."
Yan Xuerui’s slender body went limp as a rag doll in his embrace, her tone a mix of complaint and coquetry. "You’re too rough, my lord."
Over the years, Yan Xuerui had figured out how to handle Gu Yan. He was not an easy man to deal with—born into an aristocratic family, he carried innate nobility and arrogance, tolerating no defiance. His control and possessiveness ran deep. What he gave, whether pain or pleasure, she had no right to refuse.
He had forcibly taken her as a concubine, then made her his wife. Outsiders only saw the splendor and glory, unaware that she spent her days with an unpredictable man, driving her to the brink of madness herself.
She had once been spirited, attempting to escape, resist, even kill him. But heaven was unjust—blessed with a prominent family, exceptional intellect, and years of martial training, he was simply more than she could handle. Each time, she only ended up hurting herself.
Since she couldn’t escape, she decided to make her life easier.
Gu Yan disliked defiance and disobedience, so she adopted an appearance of docility. He approved of this change, and over the years, not only had he become gentler with her, but his temper had also softened toward others.
Yan Xuerui lifted her gaze to study him. Even past thirty, Gu Yan’s handsomeness remained unchanged—sharp blade-like brows, deep phoenix eyes. Yet years in officialdom had given him greater composure and steadiness to his presence, unlike the impulsiveness of his youth.
Time was truly mysterious, Yan Xuerui mused. It was the same face, but the painful memories had gradually blurred, while his kindness to her, day after day, bit by bit, grew ever clearer.