Chapter 514: Making the Bed, Making the Bed

“Making the bed, making the bed—may sons and grandsons fill the hall;

May the master be blessed with noble sons, and daughters come in turn.”

Inside the master bedroom of the Zhu family’s new residence, Old Madam Zhao from Xiahe Village chanted auspicious verses as she busied herself with preparing the wedding bed. Her voice rose and fell in a rhythmic cadence, half-song, half-incantation, as her hands moved deftly.

First, she carefully laid out the sheets and bedding, smoothing every crease with practiced precision. Then she spread the embroidered dragon-and-phoenix quilt atop it, arranging everything until the bed looked both immaculate and inviting. Once the bedding was complete, she performed the final ritual—scattering red dates, peanuts, longans, and lotus seeds across the bed.

These were symbols, each carrying a blessing: fertility, harmony, and the hope for children to come soon.

Madam Chen stood nearby, assisting here and there, her face glowing with unconcealed delight. Hearing the repeated phrases—“sons and grandsons filling the hall,” “early birth of noble children”—she felt as though every word struck directly at her heart. The more she listened, the wider her smile grew.

Old Madam Zhao herself was considered a woman of perfect fortune in the village. Her parents-in-law were still alive, her own parents were well, her husband was strong and healthy, and she had been blessed with a pair of twins—a boy and a girl. Because of this, she was often invited to preside over joyful occasions, her presence believed to bring luck and prosperity.

As was customary, having such a “blessed woman” prepare the wedding bed was thought to pass on her good fortune to the newlyweds.

Naturally, Madam Chen had arranged for her in advance. After dinner, she had personally invited Old Madam Zhao to the new residence to prepare the bridal chamber for Zhu Ping’an and Li Shu.

After all, this was their wedding night—nothing about it could be taken lightly.

When the bed was finally made, Old Madam Zhao paused to take in the room once more. She had already been dazzled when she first entered, but even now, she couldn’t help but click her tongue in amazement.

The room was lavishly decorated beyond anything she had seen before. Bright red “double happiness” characters adorned the walls, red lanterns glowed warmly overhead, a jade screen stood elegantly to one side, and a crimson carpet stretched across the floor. There were even objects she couldn’t name—refined ornaments that spoke of wealth and status.

How much silver must this have cost…? she wondered inwardly.

The Zhu family had truly risen.

Meanwhile, in another room, Li Shu sat before a mirror, surrounded by several maids attending to her. Tonight, she was finally able to wear the phoenix coronet and ceremonial robes she hadn’t had the chance to don during the wedding itself.

The pearls on the coronet were large and perfectly round, gleaming softly under the lamplight. These had been specially purchased from distant southern seas by her father—rare treasures collected by pearl divers.

“Miss, the bed we prepared earlier was all redone by that woman,” one of the younger maids complained softly as she slipped into the room, her lips pouting. “What she arranged isn’t even as nice as ours. She doesn’t understand anything—she even replaced the silk quilt we laid out with a cotton one. Miss won’t sleep comfortably tonight…”

“Enough,” Li Shu said lightly, casting her a brief glance.

“Miss…” The maid shrank back under her gaze, lowering her head.

“What the masters decide is not for you to criticize,” the bun-faced maid stepped forward, scolding her gently but firmly. This girl had only recently been selected from the household servants—she still lacked proper discipline.

The young maid, chastened, lowered her head obediently.

“Alright,” Li Shu said after a moment. “Go fetch the pillow covers I set aside. Later, when Mother-in-law and the others leave, you can switch them out.”

“Yes, Miss.” The maid bowed and hurried off to carry out her instructions.

As for the other central figure of the night, Zhu Ping’an was sitting quietly in a room in the old house across the way, reading.

The books in his hands were ones he had copied himself in the past, bound carefully with needle and thread by Madam Chen. He was dressed in a bright red groom’s robe—one his mother had sewn for him with her own hands. As soon as dinner had ended, she had brought it to his room and insisted he change into it immediately.

How could he refuse his mother’s wishes?

And so, there he sat, clad in festive red, yet absorbed in his reading.

Of course, he knew very well what tonight signified.

At dinner, Madam Chen had already made it clear—tonight was to be their wedding night, the time for consummation. When they had formally wed two days prior, the ceremony had been symbolic, with a rooster and hen standing in for the couple, and no bridal chamber rites had taken place.

But today was their first day back home together—their true beginning as husband and wife.

And Madam Chen, eager for grandchildren, had arranged to “make up” for it tonight.

Naturally, they would be expected to share the same bed.

This is… a bit too rushed, Zhu Ping’an thought, shaking his head slightly.

By modern standards, they would still be considered underage. Of course, in this era, such matters were entirely different. Still, he was not truly a man of this time—he had grown up under a modern education, shaped by very different values.

With a quiet sigh, he lowered his head and continued reading.

“Zhi-di.”

A voice suddenly came from outside the door—it was his elder brother, Zhu Pingchuan.

Zhu Ping’an responded, and the door creaked open. His brother slipped inside, looking oddly furtive. He even glanced back over his shoulder before quickly closing the door behind him.

“What’s going on, brother?” Zhu Ping’an asked, eyeing him curiously. His usually steady and taciturn elder brother now seemed flustered, almost like a thief sneaking about.

“Ahem… well… tonight you’ll be… consummating the marriage with sister-in-law…” Zhu Pingchuan stammered, his face flushing red as he spoke, clearly embarrassed.

“Mm.” Zhu Ping’an nodded.

“Um… that is… Mother asked me to give you some advice. Ahem… but I… I don’t have much experience myself…” His face grew even redder, as if he wished the ground would swallow him whole.

Only then did Zhu Ping’an understand.

Ah… so that’s what this is about.

He looked at his brother’s awkward, sneaky demeanor and felt utterly speechless.

Is it really that embarrassing…?

“Ahem… well… Zhi-di, I’m not good with words. Here—take this.” Zhu Pingchuan pressed himself against the door, listening for any movement outside, then quickly pulled out several pieces of patterned silk cloth from under his arm. He stepped forward and placed them on the table.

“These are… good things,” he said, nodding toward them with forced composure. “Study them carefully. Just… follow what they show tonight.”

Having completed his “mission,” he let out a breath of relief. He cast a lingering glance at the silk cloths before patting Zhu Ping’an on the shoulder and making a swift exit, even thoughtfully closing the door behind him.

Once outside, his steps seemed noticeably steadier.

After he left, Zhu Ping’an turned his attention to the items on the table.

The silk cloths were wrinkled, as though they had been handled many times. The images on them were embroidered—depicting a man and a woman in intimate situations.

To Zhu Ping’an, however, the craftsmanship was crude. The figures were little more than simple outlines, lacking detail or vitality, and the poses were repetitive and uninspired.

Compared to what he had seen in his previous life, these were… laughably primitive.

Even the most basic modern materials would far surpass this—let alone those vividly rendered works with dynamic compositions and storytelling elements.

Judging by the worn areas where the embroidery had faded, likely from repeated handling, it seemed his brother had studied these “materials” quite diligently.

The image of his brother secretly poring over them by candlelight made Zhu Ping’an feel a mix of amusement and helplessness.

“This is far too rough…” he muttered, shaking his head as he set the silk cloths aside.

Then, a stray thought flickered through his mind—

If one were to recreate modern-style illustrations… lifelike figures, expressive forms, dynamic poses, even narrative elements… rendered with vivid realism or in stylized form…

Wouldn’t that cause a sensation? Something so striking it might send prices soaring, like rare paper in Luoyang… so vivid it feels as though the figures might step right off the page…

The thought lingered, half-amused, half-curious, as the quiet of the room deepened around him.