Chapter 3: The Father-Mother

“To be honest, young uncle, I feel a special connection with you. Looking at you reminds me of a story from my hometown,” Jiang Luan said politely.

Seeing Jiang Luan initiate conversation, the young man in the green robe’s eyes immediately brightened.

A faint, self-assured smile curled his lips. “Please do tell.”

“In my hometown, we often say ‘a toad longing to eat swan meat’ to describe someone who indulges in foolish fantasies,” Jiang Luan began, then noticed the young man’s expression darken. He chuckled softly, “But I believe all creatures in the world are equal, without distinctions of status or worth. Even a toad, if it desires to eat stewed goose, has nothing to fear.”

The young man’s face cleared somewhat and he nodded. “What you say is true. The Buddha teaches that all beings have spirits and are equal. If that is so...”

“Whether it’s a swan or a goose, the goal of desire is essentially the same,” Jiang Luan paused, then shifted his tone. “I’ve also heard that lion prides on the grasslands often drive away their adult male offspring to prevent inbreeding. Even animals have such instincts, yet some humans fail to follow suit.”

The young man was speechless.

“That’s why when ordinary people curse, they say someone is ‘truly an animal.’ I think that’s an insult to animals because there’s also the phrase ‘not even as good as an animal,’” Jiang Luan shrugged. “What do you think, young uncle?”

The young man’s face turned exceedingly dark, but he forced himself to maintain his composure.

He took a deep breath and smiled faintly. “What you say makes sense.”

“Just my humble opinion—please pardon it,” Jiang Luan said lightly. “Earlier I noticed you kept glancing at my waist. I suppose you fancy this jade pendant I’m wearing. It just so happens I feel a kinship with you. Why not accept this jade pendant as a gift?”

The young man was startled.

Having just been mocked, now Jiang Luan wanted to give him a pendant.

He instinctively wanted to refuse. “I—”

“Don’t be so formal, young uncle. It’s just a trinket,” Jiang Luan said decisively, pressing the pendant into the young man’s hand.

As soon as the pendant touched his palm, the young man’s face contorted in sudden pain, nearly crying out.

What made it worse, Jiang Luan “kindly” shoved the pendant harder into his hand, and a tiny needle hidden between his fingers pricked the youth.

“Don’t mention it, young uncle, please accept it wholeheartedly.” Jiang Luan shook his hand boldly.

Haha, you like touching men’s hands, right? Here’s your fill!

“You!” The young man glared furiously, but Jiang Luan’s eyes sparkled with mischief, his crescent-shaped eyes like a sly little fox who had just pulled off a trick.

The young man was at a loss for words and suddenly felt his anger fade.

After much effort, the unlucky youth finally extricated himself from Jiang Luan’s grasp, concealing his hand in his sleeve, and forced a smile. “Thank you, cousin-in-law, for your generous gift.”

Jiang Luan took a sip of tea. “You’re welcome.”

The young woman who had witnessed everything said nothing.

After all, it was her own son who acted foolishly and brought this embarrassment upon himself. It was better to pretend not to see.

The atmosphere in the main hall was tense, but just then, Prince Su Ping was ushered in by a maid, adorned in dazzling attire, and sat at the main table.

“The patriarch was frightened last night and feels unwell. He took breakfast in his room. Please start eating,” Prince Su Ping instructed.

The woman smiled and asked, “What about Shaoyang and Yan’er?”

“Shaoyang studied late into the night and hasn’t risen yet. Seeing his diligence, I didn’t disturb him,” the prince’s usually grave face softened with a hint of a smile. “Yan’er is dining at a small table; we needn’t wait for her.”

The woman nodded and ordered the servants to bring in dishes.

Jiang Luan watched the maids bustling about and felt puzzled.

Qi Shaolin, after all, was the legitimate eldest grandson. Though a bit slow-witted and absent from the meal, the two elders seemed indifferent.

He had just heard that Prince Su Ping was Shaolin’s “stepmother.” Even as the legitimate eldest grandson, life seemed harsh—like a Cinderella story.

Jiang Luan only grumbled silently in his heart, unaffected in his eating pace.

After a hearty meal, Jiang Luan was about to leave, but Prince Su Ping called him back.

“Jiang Gongzi, leaving so soon? Seems you’ve forgotten something.”

Oh dear, Jiang Luan thought, ready to settle yesterday’s score?

“May I ask if your Highness has any orders?” Jiang Luan smiled and turned to the prince.

The Lich King didn’t mention last night’s events but sneered, “The patriarch is ill, and as a granddaughter-in-law, you should show some care. Why not go to the ancestral hall today to copy sutras? It will keep you from being bored alone in your chamber and avoid causing trouble.”

Just a subtle jab at his indiscretion... Jiang Luan paid little mind, but the ancestral hall was indeed a place he needed to visit.

“As your Highness says, I shall go at once,” Jiang Luan agreed and turned to leave.

Seeing how readily Jiang Luan consented, Prince Su Ping hesitated, glancing toward a maid arranging dishes.

“Your Highness, please rinse your mouth.” The maid brought tea and a spittoon, giving the prince a reassuring look.

Madam Zhou, watching nearby, wiped her lips with a handkerchief and thought: It seems Jiang Luan is about to have bad luck again.

Under the bright sun, snow suddenly began to fall without warning.

The snowy roads were treacherous. Jiang Luan followed the servants to the ancestral hall, panting heavily.

Ah, this body of mine... utterly ruined.

“You stay by the door,” Jiang Luan told the young servant.

The servant looked unfamiliar and said nothing, obediently closing the door behind him.

Few visited the Qi family ancestral hall, so the earth dragon (heating system) was unmaintained, and the charcoal brazier was cold. The servant didn’t offer to light a fire for his master.

Fortunately, Jiang Luan’s goose down cloak kept him warm. Once the door was shut, he bounded about like a monkey, rifling through the genealogical records in the hall.

The family records were not hard to find, displayed openly on the desk.

Jiang Luan sat down on a cushion and flipped through them swiftly until he saw familiar names in the family register.

The current Qi family patriarch was named Qi Yuheng, with two sons: Qi Tiansheng and Qi Tianxing. Qi Shaolin was the son of the eldest, Qi Tiansheng.

The elderly man from last night must have been the current patriarch.

However, next to Qi Tiansheng’s name was the note “deceased,” and his primary wife, Wu Ci, was marked the same.

After Wu Ci came Prince Su Ping Dou Kou’s name, followed by a son named Qi Shaoyang.

So Qi Shaolin not only had a Lich King “stepmother,” Jiang Luan thought, but his poor biological father was gone too. No wonder the male head of the household was absent at the meal. Truly a Cinderella Shaolin.

Jiang Luan continued flipping through and found the family of Qi Shaolin’s uncle.

Qi Tianxing, the uncle, was still alive. His wife was Madam Zhou Mi, from a merchant family, with a son—the ungrateful brat who had tried to flirt with Jiang Luan—named Qi Shaokang.

Jiang Luan didn’t find the young girl’s name from last night in the records, but judging from Madam Zhou’s words, she should be Prince Su Ping’s daughter.

Prince Su Ping had been married into the Qi family for thirteen years, yet the girl looked about fifteen or sixteen. Could it be that Prince Su Ping was also on his second marriage?

No, that couldn’t be right.

Suddenly, Jiang Luan realized the problem.

Wasn’t the “stepmother” a man? How could he have fathered Qi Shaolin’s father’s son?

Perhaps because Prince Su Ping’s appearance was so androgynous, Jiang Luan had almost mistaken him for a wicked stepmother. Now he saw the true situation.

Recalling Madam Zhou’s chilling words urging him to bear children for Qi Shaolin, Jiang Luan had an ominous feeling.

He scanned the genealogy again and noticed that beside every name was a note indicating “son” or “daughter” to distinguish gender.

Occasionally, there was the term “bro’er,” but very rarely—like next to his own name and Prince Su Ping’s.

Jiang Luan pondered deeply.

What on earth was “bro’er”? Surely it wasn’t some slang for “Qingdao guy.”

Placed alongside “son” and “daughter,” it seemed to represent a gender category.

Jiang Luan recalled the crimson cinnabar mole between his own eyebrows and Prince Su Ping’s. He had thought it mere coincidence, but now...

Damn!

Jiang Luan felt utterly hopeless, tossed the genealogy aside, and lay down right there.

Back in his soccer days, teammates joked that Jiang Luan was like the team’s ‘mother’—good at everything except, perhaps, having children.

Well... maybe they had spoken too soon.