Song Luan remembered that when she first entered this body, she had a dull, recurring pain in her chest. The face reflected in the copper mirror looked pale and weary. In the past few days, she had been taking medicine constantly. She quietly hid the novel she was holding behind her back, her expression slightly off. “It’s nothing serious, I’ve already recovered.”

The gentle breeze that blew in through the gaps in the window eased the heavy atmosphere in the room.

Zhao Nanyu quietly observed her, pressing his lips together. “Is that so? Well, that’s good.”

Song Luan gave a dry smile, unsure of what to say.

Zhao Nanyu looked at her with a half-smile. Suddenly, he reached out, quickly retrieving the novel she had hidden behind her back. Flipping through a few pages, he quickly understood the general premise of the story.

It was nothing more than a love story between a poor scholar and a wealthy young lady. He wasn’t interested in such tales, but seeing the longing in Song Luan’s lively eyes, he decided not to return it.

Without a word, he tucked the novel away and spoke softly. “Let’s go, we’re going to grandmother’s to pay our respects.”

Song Luan replied with a soft “Oh,” and as she moved to get up from the couch, she suddenly remembered she wasn’t wearing socks. Realizing this, she quickly hid her bare, white feet. Zhao Nanyu glanced at her but said nothing, silently standing up. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

Once he left, Song Luan felt much more at ease. She stepped barefoot onto the soft carpet, hurried to the cabinet, and quickly put on her socks and shoes. In no time, she appeared before Zhao Nanyu.

He observed her quietly for a moment. The crimson cross-collar skirt looked beautiful on her, the delicate belt accentuating her graceful figure. A golden step-shake pin adorned her hair, and her forehead was decorated with flower-shaped gold paste, showing that she had carefully dressed herself.

It must be said, Song Luan stood out in the crowd, drawing attention effortlessly, remarkably beautiful and impossible to ignore.

Zhao Nanyu raised his hand and adjusted her step-shake pin. Seeing her slightly dazed expression, he explained. “It was crooked.”

Song Luan hurriedly responded. “Thank you.”

He said nothing, taking a step forward without any intention of holding her hand. Song Luan, unfazed, kept her head low and quietly followed behind him.

Each time, Song Luan would dress up extravagantly when going to pay respects to her grandmother. Her grandmother preferred virtuous, gentle women from good families, and Song Luan’s striking beauty was not to her liking. Moreover, Song Luan often wore heavy makeup and had a fiery temper, leading to frequent scolding.

Yet, this foolish woman never seemed to understand the reasons for her reprimands or punishments, simply assuming that her grandmother didn’t like her.

Zhao Nanyu had no intention of reminding her or explaining the reasons.

The Zhao family was a prestigious one. Although Old Master Zhao held no official position at court, he held great influence. He had been the late emperor’s teacher and later also taught the current emperor. With several sons who were all successful—his eldest son served in the cabinet, his second son worked in the Ministry of Justice, and even his least accomplished third son held an official post in the Ministry of Personnel—Zhao Nanyu’s family was well-regarded.

That third son, who was the least accomplished, was Zhao Nanyu’s father.

The entire family, including his father, had little affection for Zhao Nanyu. Third Master Zhao, when he was young had a penchant for drinking and visiting brothels. He had once caught sight of Zhao Nanyu’s mother’s beauty, could not forget her, and deceitfully wooed her. Originally, his mother had worked as an entertainer without selling herself, but Third Master Zhao tricked her into bed, and soon after, Zhao Nanyu was conceived.

However, as soon as the child was born, Third Master Zhao turned his back on her. The Zhao family would never have allowed him to bring a prostitute into their home. For this, Third Master Zhao was even scolded and beaten by Old Master Zhao with a cane. From then on, he never paid much attention to this son of his.

A few years later, the third madam gave birth to a son, and Third Master Zhao looked down even more on Zhao Nanyu, the son born of a prostitute.

Inside the main courtyard, several magnolia trees were planted, and the flowers were about to bloom in this season, their buds ready to open beautifully.

They passed through a small stone path in the garden, then through a vermilion-colored gate, and finally arrived at the old madam’s room. A maid went in to announce their arrival, and after a long while, someone came out to invite them in.

Song Luan behaved very well throughout, determined to avoid drawing attention and causing trouble for the male lead. She knew that keeping a low profile was the best way to ensure safety.

As soon as they entered the room, the scent of incense immediately hit their noses. The old madam sat in the center, wearing a purple-red robe with small sleeves. The robe was embroidered with peony patterns.

Although the old madam was no longer young, her gaze remained sharp. The corners of her eyes were slightly raised, and when she looked at them, there was a natural air of disdain, which made the atmosphere uncomfortable.

Song Luan silently complained, wondering how Zhao Nanyu had tolerated this for so many years.

It seemed that being the male lead wasn’t an easy job—one had to endure humiliation and carry heavy burdens, constantly keeping a low profile. Tsk tsk.

The old madam sipped half a cup of tea, then as if remembering they were standing in front of her, she coldly remarked. “I know you don’t want to see an old woman like me, but every first day of the month, even if you don’t want to come, you still have to. The rules must be followed.”

Zhao Nanyu lowered his gaze, “Grandmother misunderstands.”

The old madam found him tiresome, she was biased, after all. What good could come from a child born to a prostitute? Moreover, Zhao Nanyu was nowhere near as lovable as his younger brother. In comparison, she found Zhao Nanyu even less likeable.

“Misunderstanding? Do you know how late you two are? A whole half-hour! Your brother has already finished his tea, and you’re still not here! Truly… no manners!” After scolding Zhao Nanyu, she still felt it wasn’t enough. Her eyes landed on Song Luan, who was dressed like a flower, and she pointed at her angrily. “And you! You’re a mother now, and yet you’re still so out of place? What is that on your face? Wearing such heavy makeup at home, what kind of image is that?”

Song Luan repeatedly told herself not to get angry, to be kind, calm, and zen. But when it came to apologizing or admitting fault, she couldn’t do it—it wasn’t something the original owner would have done.

She feared her actions would be out of character and bring consequences, so she simply lowered her head and pretended not to hear anything.

Ironically, her indifferent demeanor made the old lady think she was provoking her. The problem was, the original owner had indeed done this many times.

The more the old lady looked at her, the angrier she became. She stood up from her chair, walked over to her, and came dangerously close to pointing her finger at her forehead. She shouted, “You truly don’t take me seriously, do you? You won’t even answer me when I speak to you.”

“Illegitimate daughters are never meant to be in the spotlight.”

Song Luan suppressed the rising anger in her chest, the irritation swirling within her, making her thoughts unsettled. The old lady was unreasonable, rude, and difficult.

She continued to endure in silence.

“Has your tongue been cut off?!” The old lady’s face turned green with anger, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “A whole family that’s fit for nothing.”

To hell with peaceful days and to hell with being zen! Song Luan couldn’t take it anymore. She raised her head, opened her mouth, and said, “Grandmother, the ‘family’ you speak of includes yourself.”

The old lady’s face turned from green to white in a flash, her expression a mix of shock and anger.

In a typical domineering male lead novel like Minister of Power, logic was thrown out the window, and every character exists to serve the male lead. The old lady’s hostility toward Zhao Nanyu, her grandson, only helped to further increase his antagonism and darken his character.

Suddenly, Song Luan felt a tight grip on her wrist. Zhao Nanyu pulled her behind him, lowering his gaze with an air of someone resigned to whatever scolding might come. “Grandmother, please don’t let your anger harm your health. It’s all my fault.”

He gave her an out, and the old lady’s expression softened slightly. “Fine.”

She looked at her grandson with displeasure. He was just over twenty, but he had the aura of someone perpetually gloomy. It wasn’t that his looks were dark, but rather the sharpness in his eyes, hidden deep within them, made him unsettling to behold.

He resembled a wild wolf, its eyes glinting with malice. One of the reasons the old lady disliked him was that she always felt he would one day have the entire family wrapped around his finger.

“Go back now,” she said, her face returning to its usual calm, though a trace of impatience lingered in her tone. She didn’t want these two causing her any more disturbance.

Out of sight, out of mind. The old lady quickly ushered them out.

Old Madam Zhao had never once invited Zhao Nanyu to dine in the main courtyard. Even during the holidays, she rarely reminded anyone to look after him. She had never shown him any care or affection. Though he was handsome, he bore too much resemblance to his mother, a prostitute, which had brought shame to the Zhao family. Back then, Old Madam Zhao had been scolded by Old Master Zhao for failing to teach her son properly, which led to such a disgraceful situation.

The old lady had always held a grudge against Zhao Nanyu’s mother, and now she had transferred all that resentment onto him.

Zhao Nanyu stood near the doorframe, his slender figure appearing even more solitary in the sunlight. He lowered his gaze and softly spoke, “Grandson takes his leave.”

He performed a formal bow, and Song Luan followed him out. She could tell from his demeanor that Zhao Nanyu was in a bad mood, but she wisely refrained from saying anything to disturb him.

The more one says, the more one can say wrong. Too much flattery would surely raise his suspicions.

They walked together in silence, one in front of the other.

Zhao Nanyu glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Seeing her blank, distant expression, the corner of his lips lifted slightly, a cold smile playing at his face. She truly didn’t care about him at all, even her pretenses were half-hearted.

After a short moment, he withdrew his gaze and continued walking, his steps long and purposeful, not caring whether she could keep up or not.

Song Luan was forced to quicken her pace, trailing after him like a small shadow. When Zhao Nanyu suddenly stopped, she couldn’t avoid colliding with his back. His back was as hard as a stone, and the impact made her nose turn red.

She rubbed her nose, her voice unconsciously softening, and the sweet, soft tone carried a surprising sweetness to his heart. “It hurts.”

A girl’s complaints seemed to come naturally as a form of childlike coaxing.

Zhao Nanyu turned around and fixed his gaze on her reddened nose. He extended a finger, his clean, nimble hand grasping her chin and lifting it slightly.

“Does it hurt that much?” His voice was soft, almost teasing, like he was collecting a debt.

Song Luan avoided his gaze. “It’s my nose, not my chin. It really hurts, I’m not lying.”

Her eyes, glistening with tears, made her look as if she’d been terribly wronged, fragile and vulnerable, as if a single hand from him could crush her entirely.

Surprisingly, Zhao Nanyu found himself liking this pitiful, almost pleading look she gave him.

Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on her chin.

Song Luan instinctively sucked in a breath, furrowing her brows, her eyes growing slightly red. But she didn’t dare cry out in pain, suppressing the discomfort and enduring his sudden actions with much difficulty.

Damn it, it hurts! It’s so frustrating!

Zhao Nanyu noticed the unwillingness on her face. Suddenly, he felt a strange sense of satisfaction from teasing her.

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Author has something to say: Zhao Nanyu: Bullying my wife is really fun! Hahaha!