Chapter 29 - The First Meeting

  Rong Jing lifted his eyes and cast a calm gnce at the person before him. The slender physician knelt quietly by the bedside. Truth be told, his appearance was remarkably exquisite—fortunately, he was a man. Had he been born a woman, one could only imagine the disasters that face might have incited. His long shes trembled, fingers clutching the cloth pad tightly, lips pressed together in distress, expression vivid and complex. In that moment, he bore an air rather unbecoming of a man.

  Rong Jing furrowed his brows, puzzled by his mother’s uncharacteristic actions, and asked in a soft voice, “What day is it?”

  Song Chaoxi blinked, stunned for a moment before answering bnkly, inwardly thinking, This old man’s voice is so pleasing to the ear.

  Only then did Rong Jing realize just how long he had been unconscious—and how narrowly he had escaped death.

  What was strange was that despite such a long coma, he felt no discomfort. He distinctly remembered injuring his left wrist during the battle—so severely that he had expected it to be rendered useless. Yet now, there wasn’t even a scar. It made him question whether the fall from his horse had been a mere dream.

  Seeing his silence, Song Chaoxi tried to make conversation. “Your Grace, do you feel unwell anywhere?”

  “No,” Rong Jing replied, lightly tapping the edge of the bed with his finger, his tone ft. “Leave.”

  Instinctively, Song Chaoxi rose and walked toward the door, only to pause midway—Wait… where would she go? She lived here now.

  This bed is half mine!

  She turned back and returned to the bedside. Rong Jing’s gaze settled on her once more. Song Chaoxi scratched her head awkwardly, unable to speak under the weight of his gaze. How was she supposed to say it? Casually, without losing face…

  He watched as the overly good-looking physician began pacing back and forth across the room, clearly struggling to speak. After waiting a long while with no progress, Rong Jing tapped his fingers again and called out calmly, “Shiyi.”

  Song Chaoxi was caught off guard. In the next instant, a shadow leapt through the window. A man dressed in bck kneeled before the bed, voice brimming with joy: “My lord!”

  Rong Jing responded coolly, commanding even without anger: “During the time I was unconscious, is there anything that requires my attention?”

  Liang Shiyi instinctively gnced toward Song Chaoxi—still dressed in male garb. That knowing, conflicted gaze made her skin crawl.

  He came the moment Rong Jing called. That meant he had been nearby all along—had he heard everything she said before?

  Song Chaoxi felt her heart sink.

  Liang Shiyi quickly averted his gaze and answered dutifully, “While you were unconscious, my lord…”

  Rong Jing lowered his eyes to the brocade quilt atop him.

  “…You were wed. You now have a Duchess.”

  Rong Jing’s eyes snapped open, brows drawn tightly, gaze sharp. He gestured for Liang Shiyi to go on.

  Sweat trickled down Liang Shiyi’s temple. He had followed his master since boyhood—none knew Rong Jing’s temper better than he. Though his master seemed refined and temperate, he was not one to be fooled. When he had first entered the battlefield, the opposing general had mocked his schorly appearance, ughing that he looked too delicate to lift a bde. That general’s ugh had not yet faded when Rong Jing’s sword pierced his throat. Since then, his name spread like wildfire.

  Though he resembled a civil official, no soldier dared challenge him in war.

  Even now, a single gnce from him weighed heavily on Liang Shiyi, who forced himself to continue, “The Old Madam wished to bring you good fortune, so she requested an imperial decree to wed you to the legitimate daughter of the Marquis of Yongchun. The Emperor himself attended your wedding. Today is the third day since your marriage…”

  To awaken and find oneself suddenly wed—this revetion made Rong Jing’s temples throb. He had earned his titles on the battlefield from a young age and had weathered countless storms, yet this—this was unprecedented.

  It had been many years since anyone had made decisions for him. Who would have thought his mother would take it upon herself to find him a bride? True, the woman had married him to lift misfortune, and that was a debt of gratitude. But he had never even seen her face—how was he supposed to live with her now?

  This situation was more troublesome than war itself.

  And what kind of woman was she? Fortune-bringing marriages were mere superstition. How could his mother make such a foolish choice?

  Rong Jing’s eyes darkened slightly. “Where is she?”

  Liang Shiyi once again looked toward Song Chaoxi. She blinked, then slowly raised her hand.

  Finally, her moment had come.

  To stun Duke himself—what an achievement. She smirked, cleared her throat, and said, “My lord, I am Song Chaoxi, daughter of the Marquis of Yongchun—and now your newlywed wife.”

  Surprised? Thrilled? Shocked?

  Rong Jing looked at her sharply, eyes briefly flickering with disbelief. Under his intense gaze, Song Chaoxi gave a sheepish cough. “It’s a long story. I just happened to know some medicine, happened to save your life, and also… happened to marry you. Amazing, isn’t it? Our culture is truly rich and wondrous—who would’ve thought the fortune-bringing marriage actually worked? You woke up the moment we were wed. Heh heh…”

  She had never imagined that one day she would use her signature “Doctor Song polite fake-smile” in such an awkward setting.

  Rong Jing slowly rubbed a beaded bracelet made of Canaan wood by the bed. His eyes, seemingly casual, rested upon the embroidered quilt patterned with mandarin ducks. He said nothing for a long time.

  The room was still. Awkwardness lingered in the air.

  Song Chaoxi began to think he might as well return to his coma. At least then, there’d be no pressure. Back when he was unconscious, they coexisted comfortably—he’d sleep like a statue in one corner of the bed, while she sprawled across it in every direction, blissfully at ease.

  But there were benefits to him waking too. Clinging to Duke’s leg was like hugging a mountain of gold. From now on, someone would stand behind her, protect her, even feed her!

  The thought that she could now save every coin she earned—while spending his money on food, drink, and luxury—made her positively giddy.

  Who says marriage has no perks?

  Married life meant her private savings could multiply manyfold. She had heard that Duke’s household managed vast enterprises, and he had begun earning glory since his teens. Each victory on the battlefield earned him imperial rewards delivered by carriage. If she could scrape a bit of that wealth, her dowry list would grow ever longer.

  For the sake of this walking gold mine, Song Chaoxi decided she should treat the duke even better. Tilting her head with a harmless smile, her face lit up the entire room like sunshine.

  Liang Shiyi, who had been eavesdropping unwillingly for days, felt his temples throb with arm. He feared that his upright and principled lord might fall to this little vixen, staining his virtuous name!

  Song Chaoxi cooed, “My lord, now that you’re awake, are you thirsty? Hungry? Or perhaps… in need of the privy?”

  She spoke so naturally, not knowing that Rong Jing’s temple throbbed once more. During his coma, he had often felt like his soul was trapped in his body—aware, but unable to speak. And in those fleeting moments of consciousness, he would hear a woman’s voice by his ear, muttering all sorts of things: that the view of the ke was beautiful, that she had met his retives, that there were too many mosquitoes in the room, and that she had seen fireflies outside…

  He remembered fragments of those whispers. Never had he imagined… it was her voice all along.

  And now he had a deep, uneasy feeling—this little wife of his was going to bring much chaos into his quiet life.

  Before he could speak again, the door burst open and a crowd rushed in.

  A stern-faced man in his te thirties, cd in official robes, strode in first—Rong Feng, Rong Jing’s elder brother. Behind him came a group including Rong Yuan, Rong Yan, and Rong Heng, all faces alight with emotion.

  Rong Feng knelt at the bedside, choked with tears. “Second Brother, you’ve finally awoken!”

  “Elder Brother,” Rong Jing nodded.

  The younger generation stepped forward to bow, which he accepted with customary grace.

  Rong Heng stood closest, face full of joy. “Father, you’ve finally awakened. Grandmother and Uncle were deeply worried. I was worried too.”

  He spoke cautiously, clearly a little afraid of Rong Jing.

  Rong Jing acknowledged him with a faint hum, his expression now composed—bearing once more the dignity of a seasoned father.

  Song Chaoxi was momentarily dazed. In the past, she had only casually mentioned marrying Rong Heng's father, without truly feeling it. But now, seeing Rong Heng standing there so respectfully, not even daring to breathe loudly in front of Rong Jing, she finally realized—fathers and sons really were different.

  At the very least, just in terms of presence, Rong Heng couldn’t compare to Rong Jing.

  She curled her lips in amusement, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. No matter how powerful the male lead was, in front of his father, he still had to bow his head respectfully!

  Her emotional reaction was so strong that it showed vividly on her face, so much so that Rong Jing couldn’t ignore it. Even through the crowd, he could see his little wife’s shoulders trembling with glee, her expression full of pride—so animated it was hard to miss.

  He retracted his gaze and lowered his eyes.

  When the group had rushed in earlier, none of them had noticed Song Chaoxi in her male disguise. She didn’t feel it was appropriate to meet people like that, so she took her clothes upstairs and changed into women’s attire. She unbound her tightly wrapped chest, finally able to breathe freely. As a result, her figure’s curves became clearly visible. Staring at herself in the mirror, she suddenly felt a bit awkward. For the past few days, she hadn’t felt the reality of being married—until now.

  How was she supposed to get along with him in the future? If the two of them really couldn’t grow to like each other, and if the Duke still had someone else in his heart, she wouldn’t accept such grievance. She longed for a retionship like her uncle and aunt had—equal and loving. She didn’t want to be trapped in the inner courtyard, fighting with concubines. Though the Duke had a commanding aura, he didn’t seem unreasonable. Maybe he would agree to set her free.

  Downstairs, voices from conversation drifted up. Most of the talking came from the others, while Rong Jing occasionally responded, his cool and detached tone standing out amid the noise.

  Song Chaoxi chose a pomegranate-red robe and a pair of dangling earrings, did a simple touch-up, and descended the stairs. As soon as she entered the room, everyone turned to look at her. Dressed in red, she looked as if she had been touched by the glow of sunset. There was an enchanting, soul-stirring quality to her expression.

  With poise and grace, she offered a proper greeting. It was the first time Rong Feng had seen her. He froze for a moment before hastily telling her not to stand on ceremony.

  Now that Rong Jing was awake, who would dare let his wife go through formal greetings? Wouldn’t that be a sp to the Duke’s dignity?

  Rong Jing’s gaze passed briefly over her pale-colored dress. As he had expected, this face was even more stunning in female attire—surpassing even what he had imagined. Still, she was very young; from his generational perspective, she looked even more tender and youthful.

  He cast a faint gnce at Rong Heng. Rong Heng stiffened slightly, quickly lowered his head nervously, and bowed respectfully, “Mother.”

  The other younger family members followed suit and greeted her as “Second Aunt.”

  Everyone treated her with utmost respect, especially Rong Heng, who didn’t even dare to breathe loudly. Song Chaoxi felt utterly satisfied seeing the male lead not even daring to raise his head. After all, he had teamed up with Song Chaoyan to target her. If she ever got the chance to take revenge, as a stepmother, she certainly wouldn’t go easy. She wondered if Rong Heng had mentally prepared himself for having a stepmother.

  Song Chaoxi curled her lips, adopting the demeanor of a senior, and waved her hand dismissively, “No need for formalities.”

  She was clearly quite young, her face still delicate and youthful, yet when facing the juniors, she carried herself like a seasoned elder, exuding impressive authority.

  Liang Shiyi brought over a cup of tea for Rong Jing. He lowered his eyes and took a sip, drinking calmly as if no one else was around. Rong Feng sat nearby, chatting with him about cn matters. Rong Jing’s wedding had involved a wide circle. Due to his coma, several elders in the cn had stepped in to make decisions. Nearly the entire court had attended the wedding banquet, and even the emperor himself had come—though he hadn’t visited the Duke personally that day due to the presence of the bride.

  Now that Rong Jing had awoken, all these social debts still needed to be acknowledged and repaid. He had to be made aware of them. Throughout the conversation, Rong Jing remained calm and indifferent.

  To Song Chaoxi, it felt like this wasn’t a brother speaking to his younger sibling, but rather a subordinate reporting to a superior.

  Rong Feng seemed to be giving a full briefing, and during it, the entire room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone kept their heads lowered, waiting for his instructions. The one sitting on the bed—Rong Jing—was the only one at ease.

  Rong Feng was quite emotional and choked up as he said, “It’s enough that you’ve woken up. That day, the Emperor ordered you to be escorted back by water. I hadn’t seen you in over a year and thought the next time would be when you returned triumphant from war—but I never expected it would be under such circumstances. While you were unconscious, our mother couldn’t sleep through the nights and has visibly grown more frail. I truly feared that if anything happened to you, she wouldn’t be able to go on either. I only hope you recover soon, so we can drink together again like old times.”

  Rong Feng resembled the old madam more, though he wasn't particurly tall and his features made him appear older than Rong Jing. He had the sort of face typical of men at that age. Rong Jing, on the other hand, was clearly far more handsome. Rong Jing responded bndly, “Thank you for your concern, Brother.”

  “I’m not the important one. I just didn’t know what I would’ve done with the entire Duke’s estate if you hadn’t woken up.”

  Rong Feng had always been a rather ordinary man, even from a young age. He cked ambition and preferred idly raising birds and crickets. The family had to pull many strings to get him a cushy post. At least he was aware of his own limitations and never showed interest in inheriting the title. As he got older, he did mature somewhat, but he still cked foresight and pnning. With his status and ability, it was clearly impossible for him to support the household on his own.

  “Second Brother, I felt the same as Eldest Brother,” Rong Ling chimed in with a grin. “A few days ago, Mother suddenly told me to go fetch your bride in your pce. You can’t imagine how shocked I was. I couldn’t believe she was forcing you to get married—and having me go pick up the bride! I’d never done something like that before...” He paused, realizing halfway through that Song Chaoxi was present and that Rong Jing was quietly listening with an unreadable expression. Rong Ling’s heart skipped a beat. He had never been able to read his second brother, but he knew one thing for sure: you could offend anyone in this household—just not Second Brother. Quickly, he changed the subject. “What I meant is, this marriage really worked out! Sister-in-w must be your lucky star—look, she arrived, and you woke up!”

  Rong Jing finally responded coolly, “If there’s nothing else, you may go.”

  With his words, Rong Feng led the rest of the group out, leaving only Rong Heng behind, respectfully standing at the bedside.

  Rong Heng kept his head lowered the entire time, not daring to look at her. Song Chaoxi, as the new stepmother, was quite pleased. She sat at Rong Jing’s bedside, gentle as a mb, fussing over him like a doting little wife. Rong Heng watched silently, feeling oddly uncomfortable. He had never imagined he’d actually witness this scene. He knew full well they were husband and wife, but hadn’t expected his father to wake up so soon.

  She had always been brash and overbearing toward him, speaking rudely and often insulting him in roundabout ways. But in front of Rong Jing, she was obedient and demure, like a well-behaved young wife.

  Was it an act? Or was this her natural demeanor? Or was she just doing it to spite him?

  His father was a man of principle—strict and by-the-book. He never bent rules for anyone. Song Chaoxi, on the other hand, hated being constrained by rules.

  One had a wife forced upon him; the other was married off to a near-dead man for the sake of superstition. With their age gap and differences, it was bound to be awkward—especially for Song Chaoxi, who was naturally freedom-loving. She wasn’t someone a noble household could easily contain. And with his father’s no-nonsense nature, he’d never tolerate her misbehavior.

  Rong Jing gave Rong Heng a faint gnce and said in a low voice, “If there’s nothing more, you may leave.”

  “Yes, Father.” Rong Heng bowed and took his leave.

  Once he was gone, the room quieted again. The silence felt awkward. This was the first time Song Chaoxi was alone with him, and she felt a little uneasy. But she wasn’t someone who could tolerate awkwardness for long—she always had to do something. She stole a gnce at him, only to be caught red-handed.

  Rong Jing raised an eyebrow slightly. “What is it?”

  “Nothing. I was just wondering—are you always this serious?”

  There was a faint, almost imperceptible smile in Rong Jing’s eyes. He had been on the battlefield since his teens, and everyone had long gotten used to addressing him with deference and awe. He had grown used to being treated with such respect. With his status, even when he was warm and polite, people still didn’t dare to rex around him.

  But she was only in her teens—still youthful and lively. It was understandable that she wasn’t used to this.

  Rong Jing lightly tapped his finger on the brocade quilt, his voice a little dry. “I’m much older than you—that’s just how it is. If there’s anything that makes you uncomfortable, you can bring it up. If you don’t wish to stay at the Duke’s estate, I can send you away. I’ll make sure your life remains worry-free.”

  Though Song Chaoxi had thought about separation, things hadn’t gotten that far yet. If she could get along with Rong Jing, that would be ideal. They hadn’t even tried yet, and he already wanted to send her away. Did he still harbor feelings for his te wife?

  Even if he did, she had no right to interfere. She was the one who had insisted on marrying him, and she was clear-minded about that choice. Still, she couldn’t help but gnce at him and ask, “So the Duke is eager to send me away—could it be that your heart belongs to someone else? Or are you still hung up on your first wife?”

  Rong Jing was clearly surprised, but his voice remained calm and patient, far gentler than when he spoke to others. “That’s not it.”

  “Then why send me away? Are you dissatisfied with me? Think I’m not pretty enough to be your wife?” Song Chaoxi raised an eyebrow, looking like she wasn’t going to let this go.

  People are funny like that—when you want to leave, it’s one thing. But when someone else suggests you leave first, it hurts your pride. And she hadn’t figured out a backup pn yet. If she left rashly, the Marquis’s household wouldn’t let her off easily. Besides, she was just a side character in this book—destined to be tangled in these plots.

  She herself cared a lot about looks. Maybe Rong Jing had strange tastes and simply didn’t find her attractive.

  Rong Jing was silent for a moment before asking, “Do you not look in the mirror?”

  “…!” She felt as if she’d just been hit by this older man’s blunt honesty.

  It was a direct blow, clearly meant as a compliment, though he didn’t think there was anything odd about what he said. Still, Song Chaoxi felt a little self-conscious, her gaze shifting slightly.

  “Of course I look in the mirror—but that’s not the point! The point is: why do you want to send me away?”

  Rong Jing paused. “Since this marriage was for the sake of warding off bad luck, I assume it wasn’t your original intention. And frankly, I’m old enough to be your father.”

  Song Chaoxi blinked, sensing that his insecurity came from their age difference. So that was it? But he didn’t even look that old. His age hadn’t brought wrinkles or frailty—it brought glory and power. Even in twenty more years, most men couldn’t dream of achieving what he had. She didn’t think the age gap was a problem—at least not for now.

  Unless Rong Jing grew older and his physical strength waned, unable to keep up with a young and lively little wife—but judging by how he looked now, he didn’t seem like someone with weak health.

  Surely things between them wouldn’t be that bad?

  Or maybe he said all this just to find an excuse to send her away?

  Song Chaoxi raised an eyebrow, a mischievous look fshing in her eyes. She pursed her lips into a sly smile. Rong Jing sensed something off from that strange smile at the corner of her lips. Just as he was about to stop her, she leaned closer and looked at him with wide, innocent eyes, sweetly calling out, “Father…”

  “...” A vein twitched at Rong Jing’s temple. In the military, the old men often joked around crudely—especially after drinking. Some even admitted they liked hearing their delicate little wives call them “father” or “daddy” in bed. He had never indulged in such bedroom antics before and never thought someone would actually dare joke like this with him.

  People had always feared or respected him—no one had ever teased him this way.

  But Song Chaoxi argued with conviction, “If you like me calling you that, I don’t mind.”

  “Don’t.”

  Rong Jing suddenly felt a headache coming on. His little wife wasn’t quite what he expected—not the obedient, reserved kind of woman raised in a traditional household. She often left him at a loss for how to respond.

  Song Chaoxi took the joke as far as she dared and knew when to stop. She had only meant to tease him—it was in her nature.

  She coughed lightly and turned to look out the window at the glowing evening sky. “It’s getting dark. Shall we have dinner here in the room?”

  Rong Jing responded with a quiet “Mm.” The old madam had already sent word that he didn’t need to go to the main hall for dinner, as he wasn’t yet well enough to move about. She’d sent over several light dishes and a tonic chicken soup. Song Chaoxi took one gnce and could tell all the ingredients were meant to boost kidney and overall vitality. Her body stiffened slightly. But I’m not the one with kidney problems, she thought. And as for Rong Jing—he was recovering even better than she was. Technically, he should already be able to get out of bed. She had only told him to stay put for appearances' sake.

  So why was the old madam sending tonic food now?

  Song Chaoxi pced a low table beside the canopy bed and had Qingzhu set the dishes. She and Dong'er both stole gnces at Rong Jing. It was Dong'er’s first time seeing her “young master,” and she was stunned by how handsome he was—convinced now that her mistress had struck it rich!

  Dong'er blurted out excitedly, “Young Master, you're finally awake! This is great—now our Miss has someone to rely on!”

  Rong Jing only gave a quiet “Mm,” not scolding her for being forward. Song Chaoxi was intentionally testing his limits and didn’t stop Dong'er. She just gave a cough and said,

  “That’s enough. We don’t need you two to serve here. You may go.”

  Qingzhu picked up the tray, and Dong'er smiled cheekily. “Alright! We won’t interrupt you and Young Master’s sweet couple time!”

  Song Chaoxi grabbed a fruit to throw at her, but Qingzhu quickly pulled Dong'er away.

  Rong Jing didn’t reprimand them, not even a frown crossed his face. Song Chaoxi pretended not to notice and gracefully folded back her wide sleeves. In a gentle voice, she said, “Duke, you’re just recovering and still weak. Let me serve you—what would you like to eat?”

  Rong Jing gnced at the chicken soup and said slowly, “My hands aren’t crippled.”

  “…You're impossible.” Can’t he just let me show a little care? Why won’t he give me a chance to act thoughtful? This is so hard!

  Song Chaoxi forced a professional smile, her “Dr. Song” persona kicking in. She squinted her eyes and said, “This chicken soup is really good today. Look—the fat’s been skimmed, and it’s not greasy at all. You should try some, Duke. Don’t let Mother’s efforts go to waste.”

  Since she didn’t want to drink it, she pushed it on him.

  She diligently filled his bowl. Rong Jing remained expressionless, quietly picking up his bck chopsticks. He hadn’t eaten in days, and his appetite hadn’t fully returned. After just a few bites, he set them down again.

  Song Chaoxi pushed the bowl of chicken soup toward him. “You should drink more.”

  Rong Jing calmly pushed the bowl back. “I’ve just recovered—it’s not good for me to eat oily food.”

  “Your body’s in perfect shape, you absolutely can handle it. Don’t be so polite with me, Duke.”

  But no matter how hard she pushed, the bowl wouldn’t budge. His hand on the rim looked rexed, but she couldn’t move it at all. Song Chaoxi almost cried. She really didn’t want to drink this overly nutritious soup. She knew how these noblewomen worked—once they decided you needed supplements, they’d send more and more if you didn’t finish it. She hated eating this stuff. And Rong Jing, the actual patient, should be eating it instead! But clearly, he wasn’t easy to manipute either. She’d shot herself in the foot.

  She blinked up at him, full of pleading. Rong Jing could tell she was faking it but chose not to tease her further. He withdrew his gaze and said mildly, “Have the maids take it away.”

  “Alright,” Song Chaoxi replied.

  Rong Jing’s health was exceptional—he could walk anytime. But Song Chaoxi was worried about a repse, so she activated her bracelet, entered the inner space, picked a few medicinal herbs, ground them, and had him take the remedy. Afterward, Rong Jing felt lighter, the strength in his body slowly returning. It was astonishing.

  He had thought his mother had only sent Song Chaoxi to care for him because she was his daughter-in-w. But her medical skills were genuinely impressive.

  Looking back on the day, Song Chaoxi felt it had gone pretty well. She wasn’t a difficult person to get along with. Though things were a little awkward at first, they had spoken, and she’d even tested the boundaries of the Duke.

  He turned out to be far better than she’d expected—not at all the rigid type of elder she’d feared.

  That evening, several imperial physicians arrived again, sent by the Emperor to check Rong Jing’s pulse. All of them were amazed and offered congratutions. They praised his miraculous recovery, saying he was clearly a blessed man. His bride, they said, must be a lucky star—he had woken up on the third day of their wedding! A blessing for the entire nation.

  Song Chaoxi smiled as she listened to their fttery. They weren’t wrong—she really was a lucky star. Without her, Rong Jing wouldn’t have woken so soon. Even if he had, he might’ve ended up disabled. For him to be this strong right after waking was nothing short of a miracle.

  She was genuinely surprised. She never imagined that a side character like herself could actually change someone’s fate. In the original novel, Rong Jing was supposed to die a month ter. But now he had woken up.

  Did this mean she could change the fates of other characters too?

  There was still a long road ahead. As for Song Chaoyan—the beloved heroine of the novel—no one could say for sure what her future held.