Chapter 526: Secrets at the Dining Table

The moment he woke that morning and saw the blood-stained handkerchief, Zhu Ping’an couldn’t help but flush bright red.

Just looking at it brought back the utterly humiliating scene from the night before—along with the memory of a certain girl’s teasing open-crotch trousers… and the “scenery” hidden within.

When Hua’er came in to help Li Shu wash and dress, she couldn’t suppress her laughter. She kept sneaking glances toward Zhu Ping’an, her eyes sparkling with mischief. After all, she knew perfectly well the true story behind that blood-stained cloth—she had even been the one to suggest raising his hands to help stop the bleeding last night.

As she assisted Li Shu, the two maids would occasionally glance over at Zhu Ping’an, then lean in close and whisper to each other, clearly sharing some private joke.

“Ahem…” Zhu Ping’an coughed in dissatisfaction as he ate his noodles, trying to regain a shred of dignity.

“Why is your face so red?” Li Shu asked sweetly, her voice soft and teasing. Her bright, watery eyes shimmered with charm, and her delicate, rosy lips curved upward ever so slightly, radiating a subtle, captivating allure.

“The noodles are too hot. The steam’s making me flush,” Zhu Ping’an replied, pursing his lips. Yet the unnatural redness on his face stubbornly remained.

Too hot?

Heh. Everyone in the room—including Zhu Ping’an himself—knew that was just an excuse. From the time Madam Chen had brought the noodles to when he finally got up, nearly half an hour had passed. No matter how hot they’d been, they should have cooled by now.

“Oh…” Li Shu blinked, then gently nudged the small table in front of him with her chin. “Husband, don’t just eat noodles—have some dishes too. I personally instructed the kitchen to prepare them.”

What a mischievous little temptress.

Zhu Ping’an clenched his teeth slightly, a flicker of regret surfacing in his heart. Why hadn’t he seized the chance last night to press this little demon into the bed and… well, deal with her properly?

Because the dishes laid out before him made his teeth itch with irritation:

A plate of nourishing lamb stew.

A dish of yellow chives mixed with jellyfish.

A serving of stir-fried pork kidneys.

A platter of braised young pigeon.

And a small bowl of milk tea.

The intention was so obvious it practically shouted at him, stirring in him an almost uncontrollable urge to drag Li Shu back onto the bed and prove himself.

Lamb—rich in protein—was known to “warm the body,” strengthen vitality, and nourish the blood.

Chives? Every Chinese person knew their reputation—practically dubbed “nature’s gold” for that particular function.

Jellyfish… well, its shape alone invited certain associations—like a soft, pale mushroom cap. And what exactly did that remind him of?!

And then there was the stir-fried kidneys.

Every married man, upon seeing his beloved wife prepare a dish like that, would instinctively feel as though he were heading onto a battlefield—ready for a long night of “combat.”

As for the young pigeon, it was considered a powerful tonic since ancient times—said to replenish energy and vitality. Legends even claimed that with enough of it, a man in his seventies or eighties could still “mount his horse with spear in hand,” perhaps even emulate the legendary Zhao Zilong and charge in and out of battle seven times.

One dish might have been coincidence.

But a whole table like this?

And paired with Li Shu’s tone, that faint curve of her lips—it was unmistakable.

Her meaning couldn’t have been clearer.

Damn it, Zhu Ping’an fumed inwardly. I only had a nosebleed—what does that have to do with kidney deficiency?! The logic is completely off!

“Husband, why aren’t you eating? Is it not to your taste?” Li Shu had already finished dressing. After adjusting her earrings in the mirror, she walked over with graceful steps and sat across from him. With her slender fingers, she picked up a piece of lamb and placed it into his bowl, smiling sweetly.

Her breath was as faint and elegant as orchids—

—and yet utterly infuriating. What a scheming little minx.

“The noodles are enough,” Zhu Ping’an replied flatly, slurping up a mouthful.

“Oh, noodles can be a bit salty. Have some milk to go with it,” Li Shu said attentively, lifting the small bowl of milk tea and offering it to him.

It was hard to refuse such earnestness. And truthfully, his mouth was a bit dry. Compared to the suggestive implications of the other dishes, this milk tea at least seemed harmless.

So he took it and drank a sip.

The warm liquid had barely touched his tongue—hadn’t even gone down his throat yet—when Li Shu added casually:

“This was freshly… obtained this morning from the wet nurse’s household. Very fresh.”

Wait.

Wet nurse?

Freshly… obtained?

Human milk?

“—Ugh!”

Zhu Ping’an couldn’t hold it in. He turned his head sharply away from the table and spat it out, nearly retching. Why hadn’t she said so earlier?! His mind involuntarily conjured up the image of it being… freshly collected.

Back in his previous life, he had once seen news reports about adult wet nurses and had found the practice nauseating, scoffing at such “health regimens.” It had always felt distant, absurd—until now.

And now he had just drunk it.

His stomach churned violently.

“Husband, you truly don’t appreciate kindness,” Li Shu said, laughing in a way that was anything but sympathetic. Yet her face took on a mock sorrowful expression. “A woman’s fate is so bitter—bound by her parents’ will and the matchmaker’s word. Once married, she has no say. I tried to please you, yet you spit it out…”

Zhu Ping’an could only grumble inwardly at her shameless performance.

—

After breakfast, Zhu Ping’an brought Li Shu to serve tea to his father and Madam Chen. Li Shu also presented gifts—two sets of solid gold hair ornaments. Madam Chen’s set was heavier and more elaborate, while his sister-in-law Juan’s was slightly lighter.

Originally, Hua’er had prepared agate and jade ornaments, but Li Shu had them replaced.

“Agate and jade may be valuable,” she had said, “but to those who don’t recognize them, they’re nothing more than pretty stones. Gold is different.”

Judging from the delighted expressions on Madam Chen and Juan’s faces, her decision had been entirely correct. Had they been given jade instead, they likely wouldn’t have been nearly as pleased.

After the tea ceremony, Zhu Ping’an then took Li Shu to the ancestral home—a customary step after marriage, much like the return visit to the bride’s family after three days.

The village of Xiahe, nestled between mountains and water, was a place of serene beauty. Verdant hills and clear streams painted a tranquil landscape. The narrow paths were shaded by lush trees, and a small river flowed gently before the village, teeming with fish and shrimp. Simple fences entwined with vines bore blossoms and fruit, and the air carried a faint, sweet fragrance as they walked along.

As they passed the western slope of the village, Zhu Ping’an couldn’t help but recall his childhood days spent sitting there in idle thought. Back when he had first arrived in the Ming dynasty, he had often come to this very spot to ponder his life.

Along the way, they encountered villagers from time to time. Zhu Ping’an would always stop to greet them warmly, exchanging a few words, and Li Shu followed his lead, greeting them politely as well.

This left a deep impression on the villagers.

Beautiful, graceful, and well-mannered—where could one find such a perfect wife?

Before long, they arrived at the old residence.

Even before stepping inside, they could hear a commotion—chickens clucking, voices rising—a lively, chaotic bustle that suggested something unusual was going on.