Spoiled and mad critic of powerful ministers

"Pei An," Pei Zhihui said in a chilling tone.

"Your subordinate is here." Pei An emerged from the shadows.

"That Fu Chuan'ang kid, he comes here to freeload, and now his son wants to kidnap my daughter?" Pei Zhihui stared at the chubby figure on the grass, his eyes darkening. "Starting tomorrow, you will personally teach Ah Hu to practice swordsmanship. Two hours of horse stance every day, and five hundred sword swings. No food until you finish."

Pei An's eye twitched. A three-year-old child, wielding a knife five hundred times? This could kill someone.

"Master, isn't this... a bit too harsh?"

Pei Zhihui glanced at him sideways: "A son of a military family should be trained from a young age. I'm doing this for his own good."

The reason was so plausible that Pei An couldn't refute it, and could only silently light a row of candles for Ah Hu in his heart.

The next morning, Ah Hu's pig-like screams echoed from the martial arts training ground in Zhenliu Garden.

Pei An stood by, coldly and ruthlessly holding a bamboo stick, supervising. Ah Hu, with a bowl of water balanced on his head, trembled, his legs shaking, his face covered in tears and snot.

Fu Chuan'ang squatted by the training ground, munching on a meat bun. Watching his son suffer, he felt no pity, but instead cheered loudly, "Brother Pei, hit him harder! This kid's tough, he won't get hurt! More training will help him protect his sister in the future!"

In the study, Pei Zhihui listened to the commotion outside, slowly turning a page of his book, and found the tea to be exceptionally sweet today.

Shen Qiongju walked in carrying the account book, glanced at him, and shook her head helplessly. This man is petty.

"The contracts for all thirty-six chambers of commerce have been signed." Shen Qiongju placed the account book on the table. "Wu Dehai led the way in handing over the salt permits. The market in Jiangnan has been stabilized."

Pei Zhihui put down his book, took her hand, and squeezed her fingertips: "Thank you for your hard work, Madam. When I feel better, I'll take you to visit Taihu Lake."

Shen Qiongju grasped his hand in return; it was slightly cool to the touch. Her heart tightened. Since arriving in Jiangnan, Pei Zhihui hadn't coughed up blood anymore, but his spirits remained low, and he spent most of his time in a coma. No one knew how long Ghost Hand Zhang's red pills would last.

"I sent someone to look for a renowned doctor a few days ago," Shen Qiongju said softly. "I heard it's the senior apprentice of Ghost Hand Zhang, who has an eccentric temperament but extremely high medical skills. Judging by the days, he should arrive in the next couple of days."

Pei Zhihui didn't seem to care: "I know my own body. There's no need to make things difficult for me."

Shen Qiongju looked at him stubbornly: "You have to see it."

Pei Zhihui looked at the stubbornness in her eyes, sighed in resignation, and pulled her into his arms: "Okay, I'll listen to you."

Half a month later.

An inconspicuous carriage stopped at the corner gate of Zhenliu Garden. Du Hengniang personally stepped forward, lifted the curtain, and invited out a withered and thin old man.

The old man wore a patched gray robe, had thinning hair, and leaned on a bare peach wood cane. His eyelids drooped, and he looked like he hadn't woken up properly.

This is Xue Laoguai, the reclusive divine doctor whom Shen Qiongju coaxed and tricked into coming with a century-old wild ginseng and several rare medical books. Xue is the senior uncle of Ghost Hand Zhang and is known as "the second Hua Tuo".

Old Master Xue had a terrible temper; he would enter the house without drinking tea or seeing any guests, and would go straight to the inner room of the main courtyard.

Inside the room, the atmosphere was extremely oppressive.

Pei Zhihui leaned against the headboard, extending a pale wrist. Xue Laoguai did not take his pulse directly, but instead took out a thin gold thread from his medicine box, tied one end to Pei Zhihui's wrist, and held the other end in his own hand.

Pulse diagnosis using a suspended thread.

Shen Qiongju stood by the bed, her hands tightly gripping a silk handkerchief, her knuckles white from the force. She even held her breath, afraid of disturbing the delicate gold thread. Fu Chuan'ang and Du Hengniang stood guard outside the door, also barely daring to breathe.

Time slips away, bit by bit.

Half an hour passed, and Xue Laoguai's brows furrowed and relaxed intermittently. The golden thread trembled slightly between his fingers, affecting the heartbeats of everyone in the room.

Shen Qiongju felt as if her heart was being fried in a pan of oil. She had imagined the worst-case scenario: what would she do if Old Monster Xue also said there was nothing she could do?

Finally, Old Monster Xue withdrew the golden thread, tucked his hands into his sleeves, stroked his sparse beard, and shook his head.

"Your body is severely depleted." Old Monster Xue's voice was hoarse, with a heavy Sichuan accent. "That little brat gave you the red pill. It's a potent medicine. Although it forcibly locked up your life force, it also damaged your foundation."

These words struck Shen Qiongju like a hammer blow to the heart. Her eyes instantly reddened, her vision blurred, and she swayed, nearly losing her balance. Outside the door, Fu Chuan'ang clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking.

Pei Zhihui remained calm. He took Shen Qiongju's cold hand in his own, gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, offering silent comfort.

"but--"

Old Xue changed the subject, lifting his droopy eyelids and revealing a hint of surprise and admiration in his eyes.

"You are young after all, and you have a resilience in your bones. In addition, you have been emotionally stable and haven't lost your temper during this period. You have also been nourished with top-quality medicinal herbs every day, so your damaged foundation is actually slowly repairing itself."

He stood up and patted the medicine box.

"As long as I don't have to worry about physical labor in the future, and I remain humble and prudent, living to seventy or eighty years old and becoming a wealthy and long-lived man will be no problem at all!"

There was a moment of deathly silence in the room.

Immediately afterward, Shen Qiongju threw herself into Pei Zhihui's arms, her long-suppressed fear and grievances erupting completely at that moment. Her tears flowed uncontrollably, instantly soaking Pei Zhihui's shirt.

"That's great...that's great..." she murmured incoherently, her arms tightly wrapped around his waist, as if she wanted to meld him into her very bones.

Pei Zhihui groaned as she bumped into him, but reached out to hug her back. He rested his chin on the top of her head, his lips curving upwards in a wild smile, and his usually melancholic peach blossom eyes were now dazzlingly bright.

He leaned against Shen Qiongju's shoulder, his voice weak yet carrying a hint of self-righteousness: "Did you hear what the doctor said, Madam? I can't worry or exert myself, and I can't get angry. From now on, Madam must take good care of me and not make me angry. I will be in charge of all the household accounts and money."

Shen Qiongju lifted her head from his embrace, glared at him with tears streaming down her face, and laughed and cried at the same time: "It's all your responsibility! Even if you squander the family fortune, I'll still support you!"

Outside the door, Du Hengniang and Fu Chuan'ang slapped their thighs with joy.

Fu Chuan'ang slammed his hand on the doorframe, sending dust flying from the roof: "I knew the Grand Secretary was blessed! Tonight we must have a feast, a good drink to our hearts' content!"

To liven things up, Du Hengniang shoved Ah Hu, who was secretly eating osmanthus cake nearby, into the room.

"Quick! Ah Hu, recite a poem for your Uncle Pei to celebrate!" Du Hengniang frantically winked at her son, "Just recite that birthday poem you learned yesterday! If you recite it well, your godmother will buy you candied hawthorns!"

Three-year-old Ah Hu was still holding half a piece of pastry in his hand, crumbs stuck to the corner of his mouth. He wiped his mouth, walked to the bedside, puffed out his round little chest, and took a deep breath.

Amidst the expectant gazes of the crowd, Ah Hu recited aloud in a childish yet powerful voice:

"Though the divine tortoise lives a long life, it too has its end. The flying serpent riding the mist, in the end, turns to dust! The old steed in its stall..."

The entire room fell silent.

The air seemed to freeze at that moment.

Old Xue paused as he packed his medicine box.

Du Hengniang's smile froze on her lips, and her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

Fu Chuan'ang gasped, wishing he could disappear into the ground on the spot, or simply put this unfortunate son back into his mother's womb and start over.

Shen Qiongju pinched her thigh hard, biting her lip until it bled, barely managing to suppress the burst of laughter in her throat. She quickly stepped forward and covered Ah Hu's mouth as he was about to continue reciting.

on the bed.

Pei Zhihui's smile vanished without a trace. Veins throbbed on his forehead, and his once tender and affectionate eyes now radiated a chilling aura.

"Though the divine tortoise lives a long life... it will eventually turn to dust?" Pei Zhihui repeated each word slowly and deliberately, his voice squeezed out from between his teeth.

The spring breeze from Jiangnan swept through the hall, stirring up a chilling aura of killing intent.

"Fu, Chuan, Ang!"

Pei Zhihui's voice, filled with gritted teeth, echoed through the Zhenliu Garden.

"Take your son and go sleep in the stables! Pei An, tomorrow he'll swing his knife a hundred times! If he misses one, I'll chop off your head!"

Ah Hu was still struggling and making muffled noises as Shen Qiongju covered his mouth, completely unaware that he had just narrowly escaped death.

Spring in Jiangnan remains long and bustling.

All the power struggles, scheming, and bloodshed were kept outside this garden.

What remains is only the quiet, everyday life, and someone's long and chaotic life of "living off a woman".