Xu Wan was actually quite nervous when she said this, afraid she might be overstepping. If he were to reply with a simple "No need," she would surely want to dig a hole and disappear on the spot.
Zong Zhao froze for a mont, seemingly caught off guard. His usually indifferent eyes gradually filled with amusent, and the corners of his lips curled slightly as he replied softly, "Alright."
After the al, Zong Zhao busied himself tidying up, moving the bedding from the daybed back to the large bed, sharing half the space with her. Throughout the process, a faint smile lingered on his face—unhidden and unapologetic.
Xu Wan silently judged in her heart: How silly he looks when he smiles.
In the past, she had always kept Zong Zhao at arm's length. Even after realizing his feelings for her, she had retreated into her shell like a timid snail. Perhaps it was because she had grown up in poverty, always feeling undeserving—unwilling and afraid to delve deeper.
But Zong Zhao kept walking toward her, steadfast as a mountain, sheltering her under his sky. There were no grand heroic rescues, just daily acts of favoritism, trust, protection, and even a single shared glance—all of it slowly chipping away at her resistance.
She thought: Maybe Zong Zhao really is reliable. Everyone says so.
After the daybed was carried out, the room felt much more spacious. Xu Wan, as usual, prepared for her afternoon nap. Zong Zhao had initially suggested joining her, but now that they had suddenly moved back together, he wasn’t quite ntally prepared…
He was nervous, but still managed to co up with a serious excuse: "I just rembered there’s sothing I need to take care of."
Xu Wan suppressed a laugh and said, "Alright, go ahead."
"……"
Her easy acceptance made it seem like she had seen right through him.
Zong Zhao sat at the desk, idly flipping through a book, listening to his wife’s even breathing. Before long, his eyes crinkled with amusent again. The high-spirited general picked up a book and began reading carefully.
In the afternoon, after waking up, Xu Wan went to the ancestral hall to check on the two little troublemakers who had been punished with copying. He Zheng was just there for the ride, lazily chewing on his brush while scribbling half-heartedly. Zong Jincheng, however, was taking it seriously, earnestly reflecting on how awful he had been in the past.
"Ugh… What was I thinking back then? How could I have picked that day of all days to cause trouble for her?" The ten-year-old Zong Jincheng couldn’t fathom the logic of his eight-year-old self.
He Zheng let out an "ah" and replied in typical little ruffian fashion: "Well, it was the first ti you t her, right? A first impression is the best ti to establish dominance. If you’d waited till after she’d settled in, it wouldn’t have had the sa impact."
The little devil frowned and muttered, "But we should’ve at least waited till after the wedding banquet. So many people were there—it was embarrassing."
He Zheng reminded him, "Bro, you were the one who insisted, ‘The more people, the better—let’s humiliate her!’ That’s why we planned it for then."
Zong Jincheng: "……"
mory was a blade, rcilessly cutting through all his attempts at justification.
Sensing his elder brother’s displeasure, He Zheng quickly suggested, "Hey, who was it that told you Auntie was a bad person in the first place? It’s all her fault for leading a kid like you astray. Just pin the bla on her and have her punished—problem solved!"
The little devil scowled. "It was Hong Shao. Dad sold her off as soon as he got back."
He Zheng: "……Well, we’re out of options. Guess we’ll just keep writing our confessions."
Xu Wan had overheard this discussion before even stepping inside. So, Hong Shao really had been the one stirring the pot behind the scenes. Thankfully, she had coincidentally sent Hong Shao off to the estate early on—otherwise, the woman would’ve caused her endless trouble.
Inside, the two boys continued kneeling in the Zong family ancestral hall, wiggling their little bottoms as they scribbled their confessions. Xu Wan, whose sense of humor was easily tickled, sighed and looked skyward, unable to handle the absurdity of their antics.
After stepping out, Xu Wan said to Cui Zhi, "Let’s go. Leave them to write in peace."
"Yes." Cui Zhi followed beside her and asked, "Madam, now that the daybed has been moved out, should we also bring back the things from the bathing chamber?"
"Bathing chamber?" Xu Wan was montarily confused.
Cui Zhi blinked and clarified, "The general’s things…"
Only then did Xu Wan rember. Though her room had a small bathing chamber, all the items inside were hers. Zong Zhao had never intruded into her private space—he always used the larger shared bathhouse in their courtyard.
It wasn’t far, but still…
Xu Wan coughed lightly. "Yes, move them. Bring everything back."
"Yes." Cui Zhi curtsied, smiling as she arranged for the task.
That night, after her bath, Xu Wan changed into her sleeping robes and said to Zong Zhao, "From now on, you can use the small bathing chamber here too. Winter’s coming—it’s easy to catch a chill walking outside after a bath."
Though he had spent years in the military barracks, living roughly, now that he was ho, she couldn’t bear to see him treating himself like an outsider.
Zong Zhao looked up in surprise but quickly agreed. Just as he was about to leave for the shared bathhouse to fetch his things, Xu Wan stopped him. "Actually… I already had Cui Zhi move everything over. No need to go out." She pointed toward the small bathing chamber.
Following her gesture, Zong Zhao entered the chamber, where fresh bathwater had been prepared. Steam and fragrance lingered in the air—traces of her presence.
Zong Zhao dismissed the maids. "You may leave."
"Yes." As Cui Zhi and the others exited, she added, "General, the Old Marchioness asked to bring this for you to read."
"Mm." Once alone, Zong Zhao picked up the booklet and opened it—only to imdiately realize what it was.
……
The Old Marchioness was nothing if not considerate. Though she hadn’t pried into the affairs of the young couple’s household, their overly polite, almost distant interactions had made it clear that things weren’t progressing.
She and the Old Marquis had fretted endlessly—until one day, the Old Marquis suddenly had an epiphany.
"Did you ever teach Zong Zhao how to… consummate the marriage?"
"I—" The Old Marchioness was stunned. "He’s twenty-six! He doesn’t know?"
The Old Marquis was equally baffled. "You never taught him?"
"Ah…?" Only then did the Old Marchioness rember. "Oh no. Zong Zhao never had any concubines. He was always buried in books—he wouldn’t have read anything inappropriate. Who would’ve told him?"
The Old Marquis added, "There’s usually a wedding instructor before the ceremony, but Zong Zhao wasn’t even back for the wedding."
Old Marchioness: "……We’re dood."
Old Marquis: "……No one did teach him."
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