Before she knew it, her father’s birthday had arrived. Song Luan sat on the edge of her bed, her mind a tangled mess. She had no idea what kind of attitude her father even had toward this daughter of his. Honestly speaking, the entire Song family was nothing more than cannon fodder in The Minister of Power—the most disposable of disposable characters.

Frustrated, she raked her fingers through her hair, tugging hard enough to sting.
If she had it her way, she’d rather Zhao Nanyu not go to the Song household.

The reason was simple: the Song family didn’t think much of him. In fact, they probably couldn’t stand him. There’d be no warm welcomes, no friendly faces. Just cold stares and passive-aggressive smiles.

But it wasn’t like he could skip it, either. It was her father’s birthday. His father-in-law. Not showing up would be even worse—an unspoken declaration of disrespect.

Song Luan’s head throbbed with the weight of it all. She let out a soft, frustrated groan, flopping face-first into her blanket like it could somehow swallow her whole and save her from this mess.

Zhao Nanyu had been up long before her. She figured he must have already left for morning court, so she let herself go completely, indulging in the rare freedom of not having to worry about him seeing her like this.

What she didn’t know was that Zhao Nanyu had taken the day off—no court, no Ministry of Justice duties. After finishing his morning sword practice, sweat still glistening on his forehead, he lifted the curtain and stepped inside.

And there she was.

A little storm of frustration, flailing around in bed. Her pale legs peeked out from under the blankets, swinging idly, and her hair was a complete mess—wild and tangled, as if she’d just lost a fight with herself. She looked like a sulky little lunatic.

Leaning against the doorway, Zhao Nanyu watched her tantrum with an amused glint in his eyes. After a while, he finally spoke, his tone light and teasing.

“Having fun beating up your blanket?”

Song Luan froze. A loud buzz filled her mind, like a gong going off in her skull. Her head snapped up, eyes wide and foolishly round.

“Huh?”

Where had he come from? Wasn’t he supposed to be at court?

Her brain stalled for a few seconds before jolting back to life. Quickly, she smoothed down her hair, trying to compose herself. Letting out two dry, awkward laughs, she mumbled in a tiny voice, “I wasn’t.”

Zhao Nanyu chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, stop fighting with yourself. Get up, wash your face, and get dressed. We can’t be late today.”

His tone was indulgent, like he was coaxing a particularly stubborn child.

Song Luan nodded absentmindedly, then just as absentmindedly scrambled out of bed. But the moment she was about to change, she noticed Zhao Nanyu still standing there, showing no intention of leaving. She turned her head sharply, baring imaginary fangs and claws.

“Get out.”

The longer they lived together, the more her true nature surfaced—sharp edges and all. She had even developed a bit of cunning, knowing exactly where she could push the limits with Zhao Nanyu.

“Alright, I’m going.” He was surprisingly considerate, even pulling down the curtain for her on his way out.

Song Luan’s wardrobe was filled to the brim with lavish outfits, most of them in striking shades of red—each one more vibrant than the last. Tucked away in the corner, however, were a few brand-new, plain-colored garments, untouched. Clearly, the original owner had dismissed them as too dull to wear.

She gave it some thought, then decisively picked out a peach-red ruqun. Bold colors suited her temper far better. If she showed up at her family home in muted tones, the other daughters of the house would probably start wondering if she’d lost her mind.

At any grand occasion—wherever young elites and noble ladies gathered—the original Song Luan would always make sure to dress exquisitely, ensuring all eyes were on her the moment she arrived.

Once she finished dressing, Zhao Nanyu had the servants bring over the birthday gift he had prepared in advance.

He sat quietly, his slender fingers tapping lightly against the table, waiting patiently for the woman inside to emerge.

When Song Luan stepped out, she was immediately met with his gaze—sharp, and unwavering.

Her delicate face was meticulously made up, her skin smooth and porcelain-like. This time, the bold makeup didn’t come off as garish but instead accentuated her beauty, making it all the more striking.

Zhao Nanyu saw traces of her former self in this moment. She had always favored dramatic looks, always dressed in a way that made sure she stood out in any crowd.

He gave a slight nod. “You look beautiful.”

No matter how thick-skinned Song Luan was, she wasn’t immune to such a direct compliment. Her ears burned slightly, but she forced herself to remain composed, replying with feigned nonchalance, “You look especially handsome today too.”

Zhao Nanyu was clad in a deep azure robe with a high, round collar and flowing sleeves. His tall, lean frame carried an air of effortless elegance, accentuated by the pristine jade pendant hanging from his waist. His hair was tied up neatly with a white jade crown, his jawline sharper than usual under the light. Upon hearing her words, the corners of his lips lifted ever so slightly—it seemed he quite enjoyed her praise.

He slid the gift across the table toward her and said evenly, “Take a look. See if your father would like it.”

Song Luan glanced at the gift briefly before nodding. “He’ll like it.”

Zhao Nanyu had prepared an inkstone set. She knew nothing about such things and couldn’t judge its quality, but her father, a court official, had always favored scholarly tools like paper, brushes, and inkstones. It was a safe, respectable gift—not extravagant, but appropriate.

“That’s good.” Zhao Nanyu took a small sip of tea before adding, “It’s getting late. Let’s go.”

“Mm.”

This time, they had to bring Shige along. The little boy rarely had the chance to see his maternal grandparents.

Dressed in bright, festive colors, he looked even rounder than usual, bundled tightly against the lingering chill in the air.

He stood quietly by the carriage at the front gate, his dark, glossy eyes fixed on the tips of his shoes. At the sound of approaching footsteps, he tensed slightly as his fingers gripping his sleeves. There was a flicker of anticipation in his posture, though he wasn’t quite sure what he was hoping for.

Song Luan stepped forward and ruffled his hair. “How long have you been waiting?”

Shige turned his face away awkwardly, the tips of his ears turning red. “N-not long.”

“Not long? And exactly how long is ‘not long’?”

Xiao Shige couldn’t handle being teased. When he didn’t know how to answer a question, he simply chose not to respond at all, pressing his lips together in stubborn silence.

Song Luan rubbed his face again, sighing internally—such a serious little thing, yet so adorable.

His small, solemn expression made her heart melt.

Zhao Nanyu glanced at her, then at Xiao Shige, before speaking. “Get in the carriage.”

Song Luan originally thought about carrying Xiao Shige up with her, but after realizing how difficult that would be, she wisely gave up.

Inside the carriage, it was much warmer than outside. Her hands and feet gradually thawed. Xiao Shige sat beside her, while Zhao Nanyu leaned against the window.

The space wasn’t too big or too small—just enough for the three of them. A low table had been set with some light snacks, meant to tide them over.

The atmosphere was stiff, the silence so heavy it was almost unsettling. No one spoke for a while.

Summoning her courage, Song Luan gently pulled Xiao Shige onto her lap and asked. “Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?”

Xiao Shige patted his round belly and shook his head. “I’m not hungry, Mother. I already ate.”

“Alright then.”

Suddenly, Zhao Nanyu reached over, pinched a piece of red bean cake, and held it up to Song Luan’s lips.

She flinched in surprise. “What are you doing?!”

He smiled slightly. “You looked like you really wanted to eat it.”

And she did. She had been up since early morning without time for breakfast, and now, hunger was gnawing at her.

Tilting her chin up, refusing to lose even an inch of ground, Song Luan snatched the red bean cake straight from Zhao Nanyu’s hand and stuffed it into her mouth. While chewing, she muttered. “I don’t need you to feed me.”

Zhao Nanyu raised an eyebrow at her words but said nothing. He simply watched her eat, quiet and amused.

Xiao Shige, sitting nearby, watched them with wide, curious eyes. His lips parted slightly, and he licked them unconsciously. That red bean cake must be really good, Mother looked so happy eating it that just watching her made him hungry.

His small hand reached out and clutched the fabric of her sleeve, as if holding on to her like this would keep her from slipping away.

The Zhao residence was on the opposite side of the capital from the Song estate, and the carriage moved forward at a steady pace. With her hunger now satisfied, Song Luan started to doze off, lulled by the gentle rocking of the carriage. In her arms, Xiao Shige rested his head against her chest and soon drifted into sleep as well.

Zhao Nanyu set down the book in his hands and quietly observed them. Mother and son were both sound asleep, their breathing soft and peaceful. One of Song Luan’s hands rested protectively around Xiao Shige’s waist, holding him steady so he wouldn’t slip from her lap.

Zhao Nanyu had rarely taken a good look at Song Luan. Their marriage had meant little to him—who he married made no difference.

Even when she had shown him nothing but disdain, when she had humiliated him time and time again, he hadn’t cared. To him, she was just another shallow woman who clung to power and influence. Dealing with her had never been difficult, after all, crushing her would be easier than crushing an ant.

Lately, her attempts to please him had been subtle, but he wasn’t blind. How could he not notice the way she softened, the quiet ways she tried to yield?

Zhao Nanyu chuckled softly. His gaze lingered on the woman before him, studying her with uncharacteristic patience. The more he looked, the more something stirred in him. There was no denying her beauty—sharp, striking features, dark lashes fanned against porcelain skin, lips slightly parted. Her careless sleeping posture had left her collar slightly askew, revealing a glimpse of delicate skin beneath.

Without a word, he reached out and gently adjusted her robe. But as he did, he couldn’t resist the temptation. His cool fingers traced the curve of her cheek, a slow, deliberate motion, as if memorizing every line of her face.

The person, deeply asleep, seemed to sense something and suddenly shuddered, furrowing their brow.

Zhao Nanyu raised an eyebrow, casually withdrawing his hand as though nothing had happened.

Song Luan hadn’t been asleep long when the carriage came to a stop in front of the Song family estate. Her father, currently enjoying success in the political arena, had spared no expense on his birthday celebration. It wasn’t even the appointed time yet, but several carriages were already parked in front of the gate.

As Song Luan heard the sounds from outside, she sleepily opened her eyes, turning to Zhao Nanyu, “Are we here?”

“Mm.”

He stepped down from the carriage first, then effortlessly lifted the still-asleep Z Shige onto his shoulder. He then extended his hand to her, “Come on, I’ll help you.”

The couple appeared together at the entrance of the Song family’s house, instantly drawing surprised stares from the crowd. As expected, when one lived long enough, they would witness all sorts of things—Song Luan, the most beautiful of the Song family’s daughters, was actually returning to her family home with her husband?!

Under the scrutinizing gazes of the onlookers, Song Luan felt a little embarrassed, but Zhao Nanyu, in contrast, was completely calm. He maintained a neutral expression, not sparing a glance at anyone, and strode confidently toward the door.

Song Luan held her head high, her face set in an aloof expression, walking beside him with an air of pride.

Song Luan’s mother, Madam Lin who was a concubine in the household, had been eagerly anticipating her daughter’s return. Upon hearing the news that she had arrived, she hurried to the front courtyard and caught sight of her beloved daughter from a distance.

Madam Lin rushed forward, taking Song Luan’s hand and inspecting her from head to toe. She suddenly sighed in distress, “My dear… How much suffering have you endured in the Zhao household? Your little face has thinned so much, and not a decent hairpin on your head… My heart aches for you.”

At that moment, Song Luan felt that the original host’s mother wasn’t so bad after all…

Madam Lin pretended to wipe away a tear, then shifted her gaze to Zhao Nanyu, who was standing beside Song Luan. She gave him a brief, indifferent glance and didn’t say anything particularly harsh to him. However, she let out a disdainful snort and made a veiled criticism, “My poor darling, when you married into such a situation, I should have known that your life after marriage would be difficult. But I never imagined it would be this miserable—no beautiful clothes, no fine jewelry, not even enough to eat. My poor, pitiful daughter.”

Song Luan: “…”

Zhao Nanyu smiled quietly, his demeanor showing no sign of anger. However, Song Luan could feel his fingers digging deeper into her waist, and the pressure seemed to intensify.

Her waist was hurting like crazy.

=^_^=