Chapter 8: Establishing Authority

Qi Shaolin kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed, looking at Jiang Luan with a puzzled expression.

"Wife?"

"Sit properly," Jiang Luan commanded.

The little simpleton obediently knelt on the bed, his back straight, hands resting on his knees, head tilted as he watched Jiang Luan.

Qi Shaolin possessed a tall, sturdy frame and handsome features. When he remained silent, no one would guess he was a simpleton; he looked more like a scholar well-versed in martial arts. However, Jiang Luan looked at him as if he were his own child, lazily leaning into Qi Shaolin’s arms while clutching a quilt.

Qi Shaolin: "!!"

"My body feels like it's falling apart after lying down all day. Let me lean on you for a while," Jiang Luan said.

Though they had embraced many times, Qi Shaolin still stiffened slightly when Jiang Luan initiated the contact, though he slowly draped his arms around him.

Perhaps due to the poor quality of the coal, the stove in the room didn't provide much warmth. People coming and going only brought in more of the bitter chill. Jiang Luan’s frail body was naturally sensitive to the cold, and despite lying down for so long, the bedding remained icy. But leaning against Qi Shaolin was a different experience entirely. It was as if the boy was the reincarnation of a furnace; ever since they had embraced in the ancestral hall, Jiang Luan had kept him in mind.

There were two reasons for this: first, Qi Shaolin lacked the capacity for adult intimacy, which had forced the original host to look for men outside, so Jiang Luan felt no need to avoid suspicion; second, psychologically, Jiang Luan did not identify as a *ge'er* and treated Qi Shaolin as a brother, seeing nothing wrong with two men cuddling.

Qi Shaolin dared not move, letting Jiang Luan lean against him.

Once Jiang Luan felt warmed up, he began to think and asked Qi Shaolin, "Brother Lin, is the Yan’er from earlier your biological sister? Why do we never see her dining with us?"

Although Qi Shaolin was simple-minded, he possessed the cognitive level of a five or six-year-old and knew his own family members. He thought for a moment and said, "Yan’er is a child brought by Father Jun, not Father’s. Father Jun seems to dislike her quite a bit and rarely lets her show her face."

Jiang Luan had suspected as much, and this only confirmed it. As a member of the imperial family, Prince Su-Ping shouldn't have been so desperate as to marry into a commoner’s family as a secondary spouse. Previously, Jiang Luan had learned from the Qi family genealogy that Qi Yuheng’s branch had originally been servants to the imperial house, only rising to become the main line after gaining power. For a master to enter a servant’s household and then have to be respectful to the head of the house was strange indeed. It seemed likely that Prince Su-Ping was not just on his second marriage, but perhaps had been cast out by the imperial family for bearing a child out of wedlock.

Jiang Luan asked again, "Then how is your relationship with your aunt and your father-in-law? Do you know?"

Qi Shaolin answered honestly, "My aunt’s family lives in the separate villa. Aside from the three daily meals, they rarely come out, and I seldom see them talk."

"Oh." Jiang Luan thought to himself that at least these two groups weren't working together.

In truth, it was easy to understand why Prince Su-Ping was targeting him. Although Qi Shaolin was a simpleton, he was the eldest grandson of the direct line. Now that he had taken a wife, if they produced an heir, the Qi family fortune would inevitably fall into their hands. Prince Su-Ping, having been cast out by the imperial family, had nothing but his title and was forced to cling to the Qi family tree. Since he had a son of his own, he naturally wondered why he couldn't compete with a simpleton. As for Qi Shaolin’s sister, she was a stain on his life and held no favor, but if the young girl was simple-minded, pulling her to his side wouldn't be a bad idea.

As Jiang Luan was thinking, the door was suddenly pushed open without warning. Zuo Lang entered carrying a medicine bowl, and seeing the two of them embracing on the bed, he was left speechless.

Zuo Lang: "..."

"Little Zuo, you move fast." Jiang Luan showed no sign of embarrassment, still leaning against Qi Shaolin, and said lazily.

"Young Master Jiang, drink your medicine."

Zuo Lang refused to call Jiang Luan "Young Madam," insisting on "Young Master Jiang." He wore a cold expression as he offered the bowl; someone who didn't know better might have thought he was an assassin bringing a bowl of poison to his master.

"Just put it there," Jiang Luan instructed. "Little Zuo, first help me check the things Prince Su-Ping sent over. See if there’s anything amiss."

Zuo Lang set the bowl down and rummaged through the items brought into the room. "There doesn't seem to be anything wrong."

Jiang Luan was even more puzzled. "What does this mean? Is Prince Su-Ping trying to reconcile with me?"

"Don't have any expectations of Dou Kou," Zuo Lang said abruptly.

Jiang Luan: "???"

Dou Kou was Prince Su-Ping’s given name, and Zuo Lang looked disgusted just mentioning him. Seeing Jiang Luan’s confusion, Zuo Lang changed the subject. "I was the one who told him about your illness."

Jiang Luan: "..."

"Before I saw you, I went to Dou Kou’s side and told him everything that happened yesterday," Zuo Lang said calmly, his young, unrefined face expressionless. "He ordered me to stay by your side and report back at any time. You know why."

Jiang Luan blinked, and after realizing what was happening, he slapped his thigh, exclaiming, "Good lad, a double agent, are you!"

Qi Shaolin, listening in confusion from the side, looked aggrievedly at Jiang Luan. "Wife, why did you hit me?"

"Sorry, Brother Lin, it was just a habit."

"..." Ignoring their display of affection, Zuo Lang continued, "Only by telling him everything will Dou Kou trust me. Besides, my mother is still at his estate; he doesn't believe I would betray him."

"Little Zuo, you did well." Jiang Luan didn't ask why Zuo Lang chose to side with him, nodding instead. "You can report what happens in my courtyard to him as you see fit. I leave it to your judgment."

"Understood," Zuo Lang replied. Seeing that Jiang Luan had no further instructions, he wisely retreated, taking the items with him—Jiang Luan wouldn't dare use anything sent by Prince Su-Ping anyway.

"Wife, time to drink your medicine." Qi Shaolin, having listened for a while, reached for the medicine bowl as soon as the eyesore had left, though his arm wasn't quite long enough.

They were very close; Qi Shaolin’s breath sprayed against Jiang Luan’s neck as he spoke, making it itchy. Jiang Luan scratched his neck and, acting like a master, shifted his posture to let Qi Shaolin reach the bowl. But having knelt for so long, Qi Shaolin stumbled as he rose, nearly falling, only to be caught firmly by Jiang Luan.

"Legs gone numb?" Jiang Luan laughed heartily as he took the bowl to drink the medicine himself.

...

The next morning, Jiang Luan’s condition had greatly improved, save for a slightly stuffy nose. The little doctor was truly skilled. Seeing the other half of the bed was empty, Jiang Luan assumed Qi Shaolin had gone off to play in the back hills, so he got up to wash. The maid who usually served him hadn't arrived, so Jiang Luan took a ribbon, tied his hair in a messy knot, and searched his wardrobe for some practical clothing, intending to go out and exercise. The wardrobe was filled with gaudy, flamboyant clothes—clearly the style of the original host.

After searching for a long time without finding even a simple tunic, he closed the wardrobe and decided to take something from the little simpleton’s room instead. Upon opening Qi Shaolin’s wardrobe, Jiang Luan was shocked. As the direct heir to such a prominent family, the closet contained almost no clothing, and most of what was there consisted of worn-out thin garments. Jiang Luan flipped through them and found no thick winter wear. No wonder Qi Shaolin ran in and out in the bitter cold wearing such thin layers—he simply didn't have anything warm to wear!

But did no one care? Jiang Luan knew the original host hadn't been here long enough to bother; Qi Shaolin’s aunt and uncle were unreliable, and his stepmother likely wished for him to freeze to death. What about the old master of the Qi family? Did he not care for his own grandson? How had this boy survived on his own for so many years?

Jiang Luan closed the wardrobe, a sense of indescribable frustration welling up inside him. He threw on a random garment, draped a thick fur-lined cloak over his shoulders, and went outside to find someone.

As soon as he stepped out, Jiang Luan saw two familiar figures by the roadside, arguing with someone over a basket of coal.

"Young Master, it's really not that I don't want to give it to you," said one of the two servants standing opposite, his face full of impatience. "The old master’s birthday is in a few days, and supplies are tight. The new coal from all the courtyards has been collected, including this basket. I suggest you just make do with the old coal for now!"

"But my wife is still sick, and the old coal doesn't burn warm enough," Qi Shaolin said. "We need this basket."

"There’s really no way to give it to you, so don't make it difficult for us," the servant rolled his eyes. "Go play somewhere else and stop interfering with our work."

The two servants didn't bother to pay attention to Qi Shaolin and moved to lift the basket. Zuo Lang, who was with Qi Shaolin, rushed forward and, without a word, tried to snatch it.

"Hey! What are you doing!" one of the servants flared up. The servants in the East Wing were accustomed to being overbearing; they didn't even respect the simple-minded young master, let alone the servant boy by his side. The man immediately raised his hand and shoved Zuo Lang hard.

Although the two servants were of average build, Zuo Lang was young and suffered from chronic malnutrition, making him frail. He was pushed to the ground instantly. Qi Shaolin grew anxious and took a step forward.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Jiang Luan mimicked the servant’s tone, walking up while holding a hand warmer, feigning surprise. "Zuo Lang, why are you sitting on the ground? Come, come, let me see..."

Zuo Lang: "..."

Just as Zuo Lang tried to get up, Jiang Luan pressed his shoulder back down. Jiang Luan clicked his tongue in wonder, "That was quite a fall on your bottom; did you break a bone? You can't even stand up?"

Zuo Lang: "???"

The two servants stood nearby, looking bewildered, unsure of what was happening. Although they were used to bullying the simple young master and treating him coldly, they still had to show respect to the new mistress. The servant who had pushed Zuo Lang stepped forward with a sycophantic smile. "Young Madam, it’s like this, just now..."

Jiang Luan looked up at him, his expression suddenly shifting as he coldly scolded:

"Audacious, insolent slave! How dare you violate the family rules? Kneel down at once!"