My wife is a concubine - Chapter 14

When Mama Shi was taken away, He Yanzhi’s proud façade finally crumbled.

She ran after her, screaming, “Let her go! Mama Shi! Zhi’er can’t live without you!”

She shouted until her voice went hoarse, but the strong maids restrained her. No matter how she struggled, she couldn’t break free, so she cried out desperately, “I want to see the prince! I want to see the prince!”

Mama Shi took all the blame, but this was the Criminal Division — once concubines or servants were sent there, almost no one ever came out alive.

No, she couldn’t let Mama Shi go to such a place!

He Yanzhi came to her senses and began scratching and biting the maids holding her down. “Ninth Duke, help me! I want to see the prince! The prince wouldn’t do this! If I can just see him, he’ll change his mind!”

But Lao Jiu ignored her and left.

Mama Shi’s arrest completely broke He Yanzhi. She cried uncontrollably, no longer caring about her dignity, sobbing like a child — but it was already too late.

Du Yu handed Ding Ying and Mama Shi over to the Criminal Division for interrogation.

He also took the opportunity to remove everyone in the Cuifen Courtyard who was loyal to He Yanzhi. After this great purge, not one of her people remained.

He Yanzhi, stripped of her power, became despondent. She wandered aimlessly, stopped dressing up, and often walked barefoot around the courtyard. She would grab the guards and beg them to let her leave the palace — she missed her mother and wanted to go home.

As for Liu Weizi, who had neglected his duties and failed to notice the people around him, Du Yu didn’t punish him harshly. He simply docked half a year’s salary and demoted him to second chef.

While things in Prince Gong’s Mansion finally settled down, far away in the capital, the political struggle had reached a boiling point.

After the crown prince was deposed, several princes began to fight openly for the throne, each believing he was the rightful heir.

Strangely, the emperor remained calm. He neither intervened nor commented.

To him, whoever lost simply lacked ability. As emperor, he valued not only military strength and literary talent but, above all, political skill. A prince without political talent could never sit on the throne.

Because of his silence, the princes’ infighting turned bloody. The capital was in chaos — noble families closed their gates, the people were uneasy, and the state itself felt the turmoil.

Everyone could only hope the emperor would appoint a new crown prince soon so peace might return.

In the end, the fourth prince — weak, with little support — was the first to fall.

The eldest and second princes, born of the same mother, refused to yield to each other, each fearing the other might one day take his head after seizing power.

Then, just when no one expected it, the emperor reinstated the sixth prince as crown prince, severely punishing the eldest and second princes. The entire court was stunned.

The once-disgraced prince suddenly rose again overnight.

Some rejoiced, others despaired — especially the eldest prince.

As the empress’s son and the rightful heir, he had always believed the throne was his by birthright. Why should he have to fight his younger brothers from lesser mothers?

The emperor’s favoritism left him cold and bitter. Since ancient times, royal families knew little true affection between father and son. He refused to accept losing the throne that should have been his.

Far away in North Vietnam, Du Yu heard of the capital’s chaos and the reinstatement of the crown prince. He didn’t believe it was over — especially with the seventh prince, Du Jin, still scheming from the shadows.

The capital’s turmoil owed much to Du Jin’s manipulations, though Du Yu had also subtly added fuel to the fire at key moments.

After setting aside the secret reports from all over, Du Yu’s thoughts turned only to his pregnant wife.

“The trade route between Xixicheng and the Western Regions is already showing results,” Shen Jie reported. “What about opening the Southwest City next?”

Since he couldn’t go home for now, Shen Jie lived in a small clay house in Xixicheng, fully devoted to establishing trade with the Western Regions.

Xixicheng, at the western edge of North Vietnam, bordered vast grasslands and deserts. Thanks to trade, goods like tortoiseshell, pearls, tea, spices, and agate from the Western Regions could be bought cheaply and sold at high prices in the Central Plains, while local products like wine, salt, and iron brought back hefty profits.

After some time, Xixicheng had become visibly wealthier, shedding its reputation as a barren frontier.

Inspired by this, Shen Jie wanted to open a new trade city in the southwest, connecting North Vietnam with merchants, envoys, and travelers from all over.

Du Yu looked at Shen Jie’s thinner face and said, “Since Xixicheng is thriving, you can handle the Southwest City too.”

Shen Jie groaned. “You’re heartless! I haven’t been home in months, and now you want me to go even farther? Do you want my wife to hate you?”

Du Yu chuckled. “This king doesn’t mind if you bring Mrs. Shen with you.”

Shen Jie sighed and muttered, but after a moment of thought, said seriously, “Fine. Once the Southwest City is running smoothly, I’m taking a long vacation.”

Du Yu nodded. “Wu Liang will return soon. I’ll send him to help you.”

Shen Jie’s eyes widened. “You’re not afraid he’ll turn on you?”

Du Yu just waved his sleeve and left.

As he walked away, Shen Jie grumbled, “Damn Du Yu! Can’t he say a single nice thing? He could at least pretend he can’t live without me. But no, all the sweet words go to his wife. Hmph!”

He regretted ever befriending this man — work had become endless because of him. “Damn you, Du Yu!” he muttered again.

Meanwhile, Bergman, who was pregnant at home, was overjoyed when Bao Si came to visit.

She had been holding in her frustrations for too long — being confined to bed and cared for like glass made her feel suffocated. She couldn’t even step outside or do anything for herself.

Eating, sleeping, even simple needs all happened in the same bed — what kind of life was that?

Still, she couldn’t complain to her husband. She knew Du Yu only wanted her and the baby to be safe. In this era, childbirth was risky, and she understood his caution.

Knowing she was lonely, Du Yu had invited Bao Si to stay with her for company.

Since Bergman’s accident, Bao Si had often wanted to visit, but Du Yu had declined before, fearing stress might affect the pregnancy.

Once Bergman learned this, she scolded him gently — after all, her family would only worry more if they couldn’t see her.

When the sisters finally met, they held hands and talked endlessly.

From Bao Si, Bergman learned that their father, Prefect Bao Zhengtao, was thriving in his post and even praised twice by Du Yu. He was confident of a promotion soon.

He had also guessed Bergman was pregnant with twins and promised to help care for her after birth — he was deeply grateful to Du Yu.

“Twins?” Bergman exclaimed. “Why didn’t the first doctor say anything?”

Bao Si laughed. “That’s why it’s lucky the prince sent Dr. Wu. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have known why Mother’s belly was larger than normal. She thought she just had a good appetite!”

Bergman shuddered at the thought of what might have happened without Dr. Wu, the experienced physician from the Imperial Hospital.

“It seems I should talk to the prince about inviting more doctors to North Vietnam,” Bergman said thoughtfully. “People’s health has been neglected too long.”

Bao Si smiled and asked shyly, “Can I touch my little nephew?”

“I don’t even know if it’s a boy or girl yet,” Bergman teased.

Bao Si laughed. “It’s not preference — Father just hopes you’ll have a son first to ease your worries later.”

Bergman understood. In this age, sons carried the family line, and though she didn’t care, she knew her family did. Still, she and Du Yu had never asked about the baby’s gender.

“What about you?” Bergman asked. “Anyone from that list catch your eye?”

“I’m too busy expanding the clothing house and dyeing workshop to think about that,” Bao Si said, waving it off.

“I heard your shops are thriving all over Dingjing,” Bergman said proudly.

“This is just the beginning,” Bao Si said confidently. “Give me another year, and we’ll have branches across the entire Central Plains!”

Though the dynasty frowned on women doing business — especially noble ones — Bao Si’s ambition and independence made Bergman proud.

“After a little time apart, you’ve really become a strong woman,” Bergman smiled.

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here,” Bao Si said sincerely.

The good news lifted Bergman’s mood for the entire afternoon.

When Du Yu came home, he immediately noticed her happiness. He held her close as they talked quietly under the quilt.

Bergman told him about Bao Si’s visit, the twins, and the need for better doctors. Du Yu listened, stroking her hair, his heart full of warmth for the woman in his arms.

“I also know a little about the shortage of doctors in the north. It’s not impossible to bring in imperial doctors, but what usually happens is that after they retire, they’re still not that old, yet have nowhere to go or make use of their skills. If we offer favorable conditions to recruit them—aside from those who genuinely want to serve the people—there will surely be others who will come for the money.”

Du Yu’s analysis was very reasonable. Before long, many retired imperial doctors indeed came with their disciples and apprentices to join him.

Bergman hugged Du Yu’s arm. “I knew you’d have a way!”

Du Yu continued to stroke her hair, his eyes gentle. “Wu Liang has a wide network of people. He came back a few days ago—he knows a lot of people. If I handed the job to him the moment he walked in the door, that would seem too inhumane.” Du Yu smiled faintly. “Anyway, he’s not the type who can stay idle. If he takes a break, he’ll just complain to me about being bored.”

Although he had spent a lot of money stabilizing North Vietnam’s economy before, now the people’s livelihood was no longer withering. The economy was visibly improving, and the money he had spent was coming back many times over.

In other words, he was richer than before.

For years, Shen Jie and Wu Liang could have easily handed their responsibilities to trusted subordinates and lived freely, but for the sake of North Vietnam’s barren land, Wu Liang carried all the heavy burdens.

This time, it could only be said that the man had finally learned to let go.

“He sounds like a capable and hardworking person.” Bergman and Wu Liang hadn’t really had many chances to interact. Even when he came back, he never stayed long. Without a concubine’s involvement, they would have almost no reason to cross paths.

“Without him and Shen Jie, there would be no me.”

In the quiet night, only the occasional flutter of birds disturbed the forest. For a brief moment, the two of them leaned close together; the room was so silent that they could hear each other’s heartbeats. Du Yu’s warm breath brushed softly against Bergman’s ear.

She was drowsy from his warmth and embrace, but she still heard his last few words.

There was no helping it—pregnant women either eat or sleep. Drowsiness overtook her before she could make out what Du Yu said. She hugged his arm, rubbed against it lightly, and drifted off to sleep in peace.

Du Yu listened to her slow, even breathing and knew his little wife had fallen asleep. His strong hand still rested on her waist, no longer slender, while he gently brushed her cheek with his face, rubbing softly against her delicate skin.

Her face had grown a bit rounder—like a budding peony, trembling in bloom—radiant, graceful, and full of life. Even pregnant, her beauty didn’t fade; her fair skin and soft glow made her seem like something fragile and precious, impossible not to cherish.

With a wife like this, what more could a man ask for?

He was deeply in love with her—utterly entangled in the web of affection she had woven.

The next day, Du Yu returned home with a somewhat serious look before the usual hour.

At this time, shouldn’t he be attending to affairs in the Chaoyang Courtyard or out on inspection?

Even though he’d become gentler after marriage, it was still rare to see such an expression on his face. What was going on this time?

Because she couldn’t move around much, Bergman, bored at home, had asked someone to move a guzheng to her bedside, hoping to relive old memories.

But she realized quickly that the guzheng had once again become just a decoration. Her fingering was rusty, and the passion she once had was gone. After finally regaining a bit of feeling for it, her hunger distracted her, and she soon had the instrument taken away.

“I thought I heard music from your room?” Du Yu asked as he entered. “It’s good for a lady to have such hobbies. I’ve never heard you play before—quite refreshing to hear it now.”

“I studied it for a while before, but I haven’t practiced in too long, so I’m out of touch,” she said modestly. Her skill in her past life had been quite good, but she hadn’t expected to take such a different path this time.

Even if she were still a concubine, now she had a man who loved her and was about to have a child.

Her past life had been so full of pain that she cherished this happiness deeply.

Heaven had been kind enough to give her a second chance, and she wouldn’t waste it. She wanted to live happily.

“The future is long. You can always practice again later—no need to rush,” Du Yu said softly, though his thoughts seemed elsewhere.

“Why did you come back so early today?” She reached to help him with his clothes, but he had already changed into casual ones.

“No reason. I was just too annoyed by Wu Liang, so I came back early.” Usually, that man was direct and brief, but today he had been so long-winded that Du Yu had nearly thrown a teacup at him.

Shen Jie and his wife had accompanied her once to visit home, so she was a bit more familiar with Wu Liang, though they hadn’t interacted much.

Better to be acquaintances than strangers.

She remembered Du Yu mentioning that Wu Liang had saved up a great deal of money over the years—enough to live comfortably for eight hundred years without working.

So why had Wu Liang sought out the prince, gotten upset, and run back?

Did the prince dump a pile of official work on him?

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him—he says he likes my eldest sister and wants me to be the matchmaker,” Du Yu said bluntly.

Bergman’s eyes widened. She thought she had misheard.

It wasn’t that she had anything against Wu Liang, but her sister and Wu Liang simply didn’t match. “My sister never goes out without a veil or hat—how could he have even seen her face?”

The hat and veil weren’t just to protect against sand and wind; they also kept prying eyes away. The gauze covering made it almost impossible for anyone to see her appearance clearly.

“Didn’t your sister come to visit you that day? Apparently, she passed Wu Liang in the corridor.”

“Just like that?” Bergman blinked.

“That’s right. One glance, and he was struck. Spent the whole day dazed afterward.”

To be honest, Du Yu also found it unbelievable. Falling for someone at first sight after barely seeing their face seemed absurd.

To him, his little wife was the most beautiful.

But Wu Liang wasn’t young anymore—it was time for him to settle down. After years of working hard and running around, he’d delayed his own personal life. So when he asked for help, Du Yu couldn’t turn him down.

Though he didn’t exactly promise, he came home to talk to his wife about it—there was no reason to refuse.

Of course, Wu Liang had teased him a bit for being whipped by his wife before Du Yu kicked him out.

After a long silence, Bergman finally spoke. “I don’t think there’s much hope.”

She didn’t want to dampen his spirits, but her sister had no plans to marry.

When Bao Si last came to visit, Bergman had jokingly mentioned the topic of marriage, but Bao Si had calmly explained her feelings.

Since childhood, she had known that her beauty could bring disaster. So she stayed out of sight, drew no attention, and lived quietly, safely, and peacefully.

Her looks were too striking—ordinary men couldn’t protect her. If she married into a powerful family, she could easily become a pawn in someone else’s political game.

Even if she refused to marry, her doting father would only sigh and say, “If you don’t like him, then forget it. I’ll take care of you for life.”

And if her father grew old, she’d still have her powerful brother-in-law, the prince of North Vietnam—who would dare lay a hand on her without his permission?

Bergman had been stunned when she first heard her sister’s reasoning. She never imagined that the quiet, icy Bao Si had harbored such strong convictions since childhood—and carried them out so firmly.

Thinking it over, she realized her sister had a point. There were few young men in Pianzhou, and even fewer who could match her in character and status.

Her sister was content with her life. As for the future—who could say? Why worry too much?

In truth, Bergman believed marriage wasn’t the only path for women.

It was only because women lacked independence that they were forced to rely on men. But her sister had her own career, her own success—the dress shop she ran was thriving. She was confident, capable, and free from parental pressure to marry.

Of course, if a woman met the right person, true love would be a blessing—but too often, marriage brought more sorrow than joy.

Still, how could she explain such ideas to Du Yu? Say that in another life, many women chose not to marry at all? That husbands and children weren’t every woman’s destiny?

“What do you think?” Du Yu gently squeezed Bergman’s hand.

“You’ve seen my sister—you know she’s… different.”

Du Yu tried hard to recall Bao Si’s face. She was quiet, a bit cold, somewhat like her sister. Nothing particularly striking came to mind.

Maybe… some hidden illness?

Bergman gently explained her sister’s worries, and Du Yu’s expression turned curious.

“If she’s afraid no one can protect her, Wu Liang wouldn’t have that problem,” he said with confidence.

Bergman raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Wu Liang is one of the crown princes of the Nantang Kingdom.”