My wife is a concubine - Chapter 4

Bao Man sent six hundred taels of silver to her sister, Bao Si.

She had heard that her sister sold a total of 1,200 taels’ worth of clothes, but Bao Man didn’t mention that the bonuses for Li and his son, as well as the other helpers, had all come from her own pocket.

That meant the six hundred taels Bao Si held were pure profit.

Earning so much money by herself gave Bao Si a deep sense of satisfaction. Now she finally understood why her sister, who could have focused on being a county magistrate’s daughter, was instead so fascinated with business making money could indeed be addictive.

That evening, when their father Bao Zhengtao came home from the yamen and the family sat down for dinner, Bao Si honestly told him about their clothing sales and the profit they made.

Bao Zhengtao didn’t scold them for being improper. He wasn’t an old-fashioned man, but he couldn’t help worrying that rumors about his daughter running a business might sound unseemly for an official’s family. Yet, he also blamed himself: if he had provided better for the family, would his children have even thought about earning money on their own? His feelings were complicated.

Looking at the silver notes laid neatly on the table, he coughed lightly and said, “Since this is money you earned by yourselves, keep it for when you need it.”

Madam Ba, their stepmother, knew the two girls had been busy lately. She didn’t interfere as long as they weren’t doing anything improper. But when she heard how much they had made, she was still shocked.

Twelve hundred taels might not be much for the wealthy, but for an ordinary family, it was enough to live comfortably for twenty years.

Their first success was probably a matter of luck, but could they do it again?

Madam Ba, who came from a merchant family, had always felt a bit insecure after marrying Bao Zhengtao. As a stepwife, she often faced ridicule from society. Still, she was never ashamed of her origins. What was shameful about earning an honest living through one’s own skill and effort?

Those who mocked merchants were simply prejudiced and jealous. They couldn’t stand to see others making money and living well, let alone seeing her, a merchant’s daughter, become an official’s wife.

Many scholars, after all, went into business too.

Having met many kinds of people, Madam Ba didn’t let jealousy or pettiness take root. She didn’t suspect the stepdaughters of secretly complaining about her to their father or demanding money. She knew they weren’t that kind of girls.

If they ever needed her help, she was more than willing to lend a hand. Their happiness would give her peace for the rest of her life.

After dinner, Bao Man followed her father toward the study and called softly after him.

“What is it?” he asked.

With a shy smile, she tilted her head slightly. “Father, when I was little, you used to give me silver coins to buy candy. Now that I can make money, I’d like to return the favor, think of this as your daughter buying candy for you.”

Before he could refuse, she slipped a silver note into his hand.

Bao Zhengtao chuckled and shook his head. “What daughter buys candy for her father?” Still, her words made him laugh, and his heart softened. He tapped her nose fondly. “You’re too thoughtful. But fine, I’ll accept it.”

Bergman (Bao Man) beamed. “Then it’s settled! No take-backs!”

He watched her leave, shaking his head with a smile that lingered long after she disappeared from sight.

When he finally looked down at the note under the moonlight, he realized it was for one hundred taels.

He quietly decided to save it for her dowry.

His daughters were both old enough to marry, and he had been too busy with official duties to notice them growing up. He resolved to pay more attention—and perhaps let his wife help look for good matches.

He wasn’t aiming for rich or powerful families. Ordinary men were fine; as a modest official, he could at least ensure his daughters’ safety and happiness.

Little did he know, his elder daughter, Bao Si, had also secretly prepared a silver note for him in much the same way.

Later that night, he placed both notes in a drawer, his heart warm and full.

A Strange Invitation

A few days later, Bergman (Bao Man) was led to a courtyard house she had never seen before.

Male servants stood at the door, five or six of them lined neatly under the corridor, silent, uniformed, and disciplined. The strictness of the place surprised her.

The fair-faced, beardless man guiding her said casually, “We’re just renting this courtyard for a few days.”

So, he wasn’t from Tong’an County. That made her realize she had been too impulsive.

As soon as she heard from Li Da that the wealthy man who had bought her clothes wanted to meet her, she had agreed immediately, without thinking.

She sighed inwardly. When will I stop being so rash?

In truth, her motives were simple. She was curious who was this mysterious customer who had recognized the value of her work and given her her first real profit?

For a first-time businesswoman, 200 taels in hand (after splitting the earnings) was already a great achievement.

But when Li Da and Ah Ru were stopped at the entrance and not allowed inside, she began to feel uneasy. Still, it was too late to back out now.

The beardless man turned serious. “When you meet my master, don’t look him directly in the eye. Keep your head slightly bowed. Your skirt should not sway, your hair should not move, and you must stay ten steps away from him. Remember that.”

His tone was polite, but his sharp gaze made her realize this was not a mere courtesy, it was a command.

They’re treating me like a servant, she thought. Still, since she had come this far, she decided to play along.

Inside the hall, she followed instructions, stopping at the door and bowing respectfully toward the man sitting in the grand chair.

He didn’t invite her to rise or even look at her.

“The girl who makes clothes is here,” the butler announced softly.

At that, the man slowly lifted his gaze from the porcelain cup in his hand. His features were sharp and elegant, his robe of pale ramie silk trimmed with gold thread, and a jade cicada hung at his waist. His expression was unreadable, cold and distant, like frost in moonlight.

The butler, Lao Jiu, cleared his throat and explained, “The young master burned the three sets of clothes the girl made, as offerings to the wet nurse who served him faithfully for many years.”

Bergman blinked in surprise. He had burned the clothes? As grave offerings?

That was… unsettling. But she quickly reasoned that it was his money, after all. If it brought comfort to the deceased, so be it.

She thought of her own childhood nurse, who had cared for her like a mother until she was dismissed when Bergman was five. A wet nurse’s affection, she knew, was a mother’s love without bl00d ties.

Understanding dawned. This man was grieving and honoring the woman who had raised him.

She bowed again and said softly, “It is an honor that my humble clothes could bring comfort to the young master and Aunt Qi.”

Then, with quiet composure, she added, “If there’s nothing else, I shall take my leave.”

The butler nodded and called a guard to escort her out. Before she left, the man handed her a reward.

“Master, the girl has left,” the butler reported afterward.

The man—Du Yu—didn’t respond. He simply stared at his tea, expressionless as always.

Lao Jiu, who had served him since childhood, knew this silence well. His master’s emotions rarely showed, even when Aunt Qi, the woman who had raised him, passed away. But Lao Jiu also knew—his master had done everything he could for her, quietly and completely.

And for a loyal servant like Aunt Qi, that was enough.

“We were delayed on the road for a few days—it’s time to leave.”
He knew His Highness trusted him. There might once have been an Aunt Qi, but now… Forget it. Once they reached the border of North Vietnam, he’d deal with everything then. There were still too many things that required his attention.

“Make the arrangements,” Du Yu said simply.
As expected, his personal eunuch—known as Lao Jiu—bowed and hurried to carry out the order.

Lao Jiu was one of the few people allowed to serve Du Yu closely, and unlike others, he wasn’t terrified of the prince’s cold, detached tone—a voice that could make men break into a cold sweat even in the heat of midsummer.

That young woman just now had seemed calm, but she had fled with her face covered the moment she was dismissed.

As for her appearance… Du Yu couldn’t remember.
In truth, he rarely remembered anyone’s face not even his own parents’. His memory had always been poor, and his ghastly looks made people avoid him. Even his father disliked seeing him. Within the palace, whether it was the eunuchs or the concubines, everyone trembled when he appeared. Some even fainted at the sight of him.

So, as soon as he came of age, married a concubine, and was granted a fief, he became the first prince of the Yongding dynasty to be exiled from the capital.

Another prince the seventh, was also sent away later, but that one had the backing of his mother’s powerful family. His fief was far better off than Du Yu’s—warm, fertile, and comfortable.

Du Yu’s territory, North Vietnam, was barren. The soil was poor, the winters harsh, and both trade and farming were bleak. But it wasn’t his choice. His father decreed it, and he could only obey.

When Lao Jiu finished assigning the final orders, Du Yu stepped out of the courtyard. Horses, carriages, and guards—who had appeared seemingly out of thin air were already lined up and ready to move.

Aside from the occasional snort of a horse, the entire convoy was silent as they departed, leaving the small house behind.

Bao Man sat quietly on the sedan’s cushion, her thoughts drifting until the group passed through the city gates and reached East Street.

Suddenly, she winced and hissed through her teeth.
“It hurts! Ouch!”

Startled, the sedan bearers stopped immediately, and Ah Ru lifted the curtain, her face pale with worry. “Second Miss?”

Bao Man gritted her teeth and forced a smile. “It’s nothing. I just bumped myself. Keep going.”

But her mind was spinning. Something she had long forgotten from her previous life had surfaced again. Fate had changed—but this time, she had seen that man face to face.
Or rather, heard him. He barely said a word, yet his presence spoke volumes.

Judging from his cold aura and that commanding tone… could he be that man the one from her memories?

But then again, maybe she was imagining things. He hadn’t revealed who he was. Why was she jumping to conclusions? Such dangerous thoughts only invited trouble.

She needed to stop letting her imagination run wild.

In her past life, she had dreamed of marrying into wealth. When she finally did, she became trapped within the walls of a noble household—scheming daily just to please King Lingjing.

She remembered clearly: one day, King Lingjing had received news that the Fifth Prince was ambushed and killed on his way to his assigned domain.

The Fifth Prince…

Back then, Bao Man had studied the royal family in detail. The Fifth Prince was the son of one of the emperor’s favored concubines. His birth had once been celebrated until the infant came out bruised and crying weakly like a kitten. The midwives had feared he wouldn’t live long.

As he grew, the boy remained quiet, slow to speak, seemingly dull. Displeased, the emperor had distanced himself from both child and mother. By the time the prince was three, his mother had already shifted her affection to another son, leaving the frail child in the care of palace servants.

That was the Fifth Prince’s life raised by eunuchs and old maids, shunned by his parents.

Years later, the emperor sent him away as a vassal lord not out of affection, but to remove him from sight. His new territory, North Vietnam, was little more than frozen wasteland. Still, it was a title, and at least he would not starve.

But before he even reached it, assassins attacked his convoy. He was killed on the road.

Who could hate him enough to strike down such a harmless man?

Back then, she hadn’t cared. Now, she finally understood: Aunt Qi whose name she had just heard must have been one of the palace servants who raised the Fifth Prince. She had died suddenly after leaving the capital.

And that man she had just met the one who had ordered her dresses burned for Aunt Qi could only be him.

In her past life, when this news spread, King Lingjing had changed his clothes and left the palace soon after. She hadn’t realized what it meant. Now she did.

If this man really was the Fifth Prince, then he was the one who would be assassinated on the way to North Vietnam.

But what could she do? She wasn’t a soldier. She couldn’t fight. If assassins came, she’d just die first.

Still, guilt gnawed at her. She couldn’t just pretend she knew nothing.

At least she could warn him. Whether he listened or not, her conscience would be clear.

“Turn back,” she ordered the sedan bearers. “We’re going to the courtyard again.”

When they arrived, the place was already deserted. She could guess easily they had taken the official road toward North Vietnam.

She offered her exhausted bearers four times their usual pay if they could catch up.

By the time they did, everyone was drenched in sweat. Ahead stretched a solemn procession guards in polished armor, banners fluttering, weapons gleaming in the sunlight.

Even the air felt heavy. The bearers dared not breathe too loudly.

Bao Man stumbled out of the sedan, nearly tripping, but forced herself to bow. “Please, madam, I need to see your master. I have an urgent message for him—please tell him Bao Man is here.”

One of the older women, clearly a high-ranking attendant, looked her up and down. “You’re the seamstress?” She tidied Bao Man’s hairpin with gentle fingers, then motioned quietly to one of the guards.

The man understood the signal and walked off in the opposite direction of the convoy.

“Yes,” Bao Man said breathlessly, “please—just tell him I must speak with him.”

The attendant—Aunt Xuan—studied her for a moment. “What’s so urgent that you’ve chased after us all this way?”

“Please,” Bao Man said again, her voice trembling. “It’s truly important.”

Before Aunt Xuan could respond, the sound of footsteps approached. “Who wants to see my master?”

It was Lao Jiu.

Bao Man immediately lowered her head and gave a respectful half-bow. Though her father was an official, she knew better than to show arrogance before a palace eunuch.

“Sir,” she said, “may I have a private word?”

Lao Jiu led her aside, his face expressionless.

Bao Man quickly explained everything she had prepared in her mind during the chase.

Lao Jiu’s face darkened. “Girl, do you realize that delaying my master’s journey is a capital offense?”

“I’m not trying to die,” she said sharply. “If your master hadn’t shown me kindness earlier, I wouldn’t have risked coming. But I can’t stand by and say nothing.”

“Where did you hear this?” His voice was sharp, skeptical.

“Please, just believe me once,” she pleaded. “If your master reaches North Vietnam safely, then treat everything I’ve said as nonsense. But if something happens on the road it’s better to be prepared, isn’t it?”

Her words were sincere, her tone desperate.

Lao Jiu studied her silently. For her to chase after them so far, risking her reputation, it couldn’t be a simple prank.

“The magistrate’s daughter of Tong’an County,” he said slowly, “if this is a false alarm, you’ll implicate your whole family. Are you prepared for that?”

Bao Man smiled bitterly. “With so many swords and spears around, I could be skewered in an instant. Do I look like someone foolish enough to risk my family’s life for a joke?”

Her words struck him. Perhaps she wasn’t lying.

“Stay here,” he finally said.

She didn’t know if that meant she was being detained—or protected—but at least he was taking her seriously.

Bao Man stood under the heavy gazes of the guards, waiting.

She never did see Du Yu again that day.

Instead, she realized she had been quietly, politely… kept behind.