Transmigrated as a Cannon Fodder Wife A in Ancient Times - Chapter 67

Chapter 67

Wei Lan spent half the day dealing with the trouble and had now returned to Fuqu Pavilion. Although it delayed her jade carving, sending Chen Zhou to jail for a few days made her happy. Plus, she got five thousand taels in banknotes from Chen Zhou’s mother. Wei Lan figured the tavern’s nightly revenue wouldn’t reach five thousand taels, and they essentially got free publicity.

No matter how she calculated, they didn’t lose out. Wei Lan poured herself a cup of tea and sipped it contentedly.

While drinking tea, she asked the maids to prepare hot water. That afternoon, carving jade left her covered in dust. She left in a rush, with no time to bathe, but now back, she felt uncomfortable everywhere and wanted to wash quickly.

The maids were swift, and bathwater was soon ready. Wei Lan walked behind the screen, removed her outer clothes, and sank comfortably into the tub.

Thinking about today’s events, she realized how hard her wife worked. The Lu family’s businesses spanned many industries, and Lu Zijin managed everything, needing to understand all aspects and make decisions when problems arose.

This also showed how capable her wife was, excelling in every way.

Wei Lan thought happily, but her mind drifted to last night. Madam treated her so well, so cooperative. Wei Lan felt shy, burying half her face in the tub.

She didn’t notice while carving jade, but now idle, she missed Lu Zijin. After last night, she seemed even clingier to her wife.

When Lu Zijin returned to the mansion, she had someone take her straight to Fuqu Pavilion. Learning Wei Lan was bathing in the bedroom, Lu Zijin pushed open the door, entered, and closed it behind her.

Wei Lan heard the noise. She had just heard someone outside greeting Lu Zijin and said, “Madam? Is that you?”

Lu Zijin’s eyes curved. “Of course. Who else would you want to come in?” she said.

“No one else,” Wei Lan said, gazing eagerly at the screen. Seeing Lu Zijin approach, her eyes sparkled.

To Lu Zijin, her little dog was wagging its tail. She leaned down, kissed Wei Lan’s lips.

“You did well today. Thanks to you, I could return now, or I’d have been too late,” Lu Zijin said, pinching Wei Lan’s cheek playfully, hardly imagining this obedient puppy being so serious outside.

“Madam, what’s my reward?” Wei Lan asked, pressing her cheek against Lu Zijin’s hand, her eyes shining brightly at her.

Lu Zijin chuckled, glaring at Wei Lan. Her fingertips slid to Wei Lan’s gland, teasing it lightly. Soon, the little Qianyuan’s cheeks and ears flushed red, and the scent of fresh snow filled the air.

Wei Lan looked at Lu Zijin pitifully, like a hungry puppy awaiting its owner’s feeding.

Seeing her like this, Lu Zijin’s eyes curved. She leaned down, kissed Wei Lan’s lips, and nuzzled her nose affectionately. “What reward do you want?” she said.

“Like last night. I missed you,” Wei Lan said, nuzzling playfully.

Seeing her little dog’s eager, meat-craving look, Lu Zijin pinched her gland again, laughing. “Depends on your performance,” she said.

Wei Lan whined, nuzzling Lu Zijin’s wrist. Her gland was still being toyed with, and soon, her eyes misted over.

Seeing Wei Lan’s overwhelmed look, Lu Zijin kissed her lips. “So good. Want to get up? Or soak a bit more?” she said.

“I’ll get up,” Wei Lan said quickly. If her wife kept teasing, she wouldn’t be fierce again.

So, the little dog who thought herself fierce climbed out of the tub with her wife’s help.

Lu Zijin wrapped Wei Lan in a large cotton cloth, wiping her body. Wei Lan stood obediently, letting Lu Zijin handle her, her right hand clutching Lu Zijin’s hem, staring at her intently.

Seeing her little dog so compliant, Lu Zijin couldn’t resist teasing. Her palm slid under the cloth, touching somewhere, making Wei Lan collapse into her arms.

Her eyes misty, Wei Lan nuzzled Lu Zijin’s neck, whining, “Madam, I’m the Qianyuan.”

Lu Zijin chuckled at the little Qianyuan in her arms. “So what if you’re Qianyuan? Can’t I play?” she said.

“Wah, you can, but Qianyuan are supposed to be on top,” Wei Lan said, nuzzling Lu Zijin. She was on top last night, after all.

Lu Zijin laughed, one hand on Wei Lan’s waist, the other patting her back lightly. “You’ve been underneath plenty. Forgotten?” she said.

Wei Lan, ears red, buried herself in Lu Zijin’s arms, nuzzling. Madam was too much—didn’t she not know how before? Why bring up her past?

Seeing her little Qianyuan whining and nuzzling, Lu Zijin felt her throat itch, wanting to sleep with Wei Lan right then.

Her gaze darkened. She grabbed another cloth, wiped Wei Lan’s wet hair roughly, tossed it aside, and kissed her while leading her to the bed.

By the time Wei Lan was breathless from kissing, they reached the bed. Lu Zijin pushed her lightly, and Wei Lan fell onto it. Lu Zijin straddled her.

She placed her hand over Wei Lan’s, guiding it to her waistband, leaning to bite her flushed ear. “Help me,” she said.

Wei Lan’s mind was dizzy, propping herself up, instinctively obeying to undo Lu Zijin’s waistband.

Lu Zijin smiled at her, her right hand pinching Wei Lan’s chin, thumb pressing her lower lip. Such an obedient little Qianyuan deserved to be played with.

Wei Lan dutifully undid Lu Zijin’s waistband. Her position made it hard to exert force, so it took a while. After the waistband, seeing Lu Zijin’s smiling gaze, she moved to the sash.

But the hand on her lips pressed harder, and Madam’s breathing grew heavier.

Wei Lan finally undid Lu Zijin’s outer dress, pulling it off and tossing it to the floor. When her eyes met Lu Zijin’s again, she instinctively sensed danger. Whenever Madam’s eyes darkened, she was in trouble.

Sure enough, before Wei Lan could speak, Lu Zijin pinned her to the bed and kissed her.

Lu Zijin’s kiss was fast, urgent, and deep. Soon, Wei Lan lost strength, her hands gripping Lu Zijin’s undergarment hem, overwhelmed as Lu Zijin kissed her.

Breathless, she pushed at Lu Zijin, only to be entangled tighter. Her tongue went numb, and her eyes grew mistier.

When Lu Zijin had kissed enough and pulled back to look, Wei Lan’s eyes were wet, tears at their corners, looking overwhelmed.

Lu Zijin couldn’t resist her like this—the more overwhelmed her little Qianyuan was, the more she wanted to bully her.

Her eyes unfathomably dark, she gave Wei Lan barely two breaths before kissing her fiercely again.

Wei Lan, gasping, pushed at Lu Zijin, reluctant to use force, only nudging lightly. Lu Zijin kissed even more intensely.

Eventually, Wei Lan couldn’t breathe, tears sliding down with Lu Zijin’s kisses.

Seeing her little Qianyuan cry from kissing, Lu Zijin propped herself up slightly.

“Wah, you’re bullying me,” Wei Lan said, sniffling, wiping tears, and accusing Lu Zijin.

Lu Zijin nearly laughed at her delicate look but, fearing her little dog’s anger, coaxed gently, “Alright, don’t cry. I’ll let you bully me back later.”

“I couldn’t breathe, and you kept kissing,” Wei Lan said, sniffling, still aggrieved.

“You were too good; I couldn’t resist,” Lu Zijin said, seeing her little Qianyuan cry. She kissed Wei Lan’s lip corner, coaxing patiently, “Didn’t you want to try from behind last night? We’ll try later, okay?”

Wei Lan’s ears reddened, and she nodded. “Hmm,” she said.

Seeing Wei Lan respond, Lu Zijin sighed in relief, pinched her chin to lift her face, and played with her gland.

“Madam, it tickles. Don’t bite,” Wei Lan said, hugging Lu Zijin tightly, feeling bullied.

After biting for a bit, Lu Zijin relented, kindly leaving half Wei Lan’s pheromones, or her little Qianyuan would be too weak to move.

Lu Zijin lowered the bed curtains, sat on Wei Lan, and began untying her undergarment sash. Wei Lan stared at her intently.

She tugged Lu Zijin’s sleeve, whining, “Madam, it’s my turn to be on top.”

Lu Zijin bit her ear, laughing. “Who gets on top by whining?” she said.

Wei Lan nuzzled Lu Zijin. She didn’t know how other Qianyuan did it—she relied on whining! “Please, Madam? You just bullied me to tears. I want to be on top,” she said.

Lu Zijin looked at Wei Lan helplessly. It was her little dog—whining wasn’t so bad. “Fine, you can be on top,” she said.

“I knew Madam was the best. I love Madam. You’re the best madam in the world,” Wei Lan said, her flattery unstoppable, praises flowing endlessly.

Lu Zijin chuckled lightly. Only her little dog needed her permission to be on top.

Wei Lan happily played with the little phoenix. Madam was so good, letting her try from behind. Wei Lan was thrilled all night.

—

Meanwhile, Chen Zhou was in jail. Zhou Yufu spent hundreds of taels to bribe the jailer, who arranged a private cell for him. But even a private cell wasn’t pleasant. A pampered young master like Chen Zhou couldn’t endure it.

The dark, narrow cell had a round wooden bucket in one corner, serving as a toilet. Though empty, it reeked. Chen Zhou nearly vomited just being there.

He stood far from the bucket, at the opposite corner.

The cell’s floor was covered with dry straw, clearly unclean. The wooden bed opposite the bucket looked grimy. Chen Zhou couldn’t sit, feeling nauseous just looking.

He glanced at other cells’ inmates, filthy, some lying on straw, others chatting with cellmates. Almost no one stood—standing for hours was fine, but not for twelve hours daily.

Chen Zhou gripped the iron bars tightly, his face ferocious. “Wei Lan, you useless trash, I’ll kill you. I’ll definitely kill you!” he said.

A passing jailer, thinking Chen Zhou’s threat was aimed at him, got angry. “You’re a prisoner and still acting tough? Think you’re still a young master?” he said.

He whipped Chen Zhou’s arm, making him yelp and jump. No one had ever hit him before.

“You dare hit me? I’m Chen Zhou of the Chen Mansion!” he said, seeing a bloody mark, his forehead veins bulging.

The jailer scoffed. “I don’t care if you’re Chen Zhou or Dog Zhou. In jail, dragons coil, tigers crouch. No one pampers you. Yell again, and I’ll whip you to death,” he said.

Chen Zhou bit his lip until it bled, but knowing not to offend jailers, he swallowed his humiliation, nearly crying.

The jailer, seeing him quiet, glared and left. He despised rich merchants. Without Zhou Yufu’s bribe, he wouldn’t have stopped at one whip. Even the rich begged jailers here.

Chen Zhou’s cell was open to the adjacent one, separated only by bars. An inmate next door said, “Young master, don’t be picky. A private cell with a bed is good. Look at us—eight in one cell, one bed, sleeping on the floor.”

Chen Zhou snorted, clutching his arm, standing by the bars.

The rogue next door, ignored, leaned closer, winking at Chen Zhou. He reached through the bars, pinched Chen Zhou’s backside. “Oh, young master, if you were in our cell, we’d make you comfortable,” he said.

Chen Zhou, terrified, fell to the ground, heedless of the dirty straw, scooting back. “You beasts, beasts!” he said.

“Don’t run. Let’s bond,” the man said, leering.

Chen Zhou nearly cried. This hellhole, where even birds wouldn’t linger, and he was molested by a male Qianyuan. He wanted to blow up the jail.

As he sat stunned, two rats darted from the straw, climbing onto him.

Chen Zhou screamed, jumping up, shaking off the rats, crying and shouting, “Let me out! Let me out! There are rats, rats!”

The jailer, just seated, heard Chen Zhou’s commotion, grabbed the key, and opened the door. Chen Zhou thought he was being released, but the next moment, his chest stung.

“Keep yelling, huh?” the jailer said, whipping Chen Zhou three or four times, making him howl.

“Behave, or think you’re still a young master? Rats and cockroaches are normal here. Yell again, and I’ll whip you dead,” the jailer said, locking the door and leaving.

Chen Zhou, with more bloody marks, quieted down, but glared at the jailer, vowing revenge on him and Wei Lan once free.

At noon, jailers distributed food, delivering to each cell grumpily.

Chen Zhou hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon and was starving. Approaching the tray, he nearly vomited. Lunch was a steamed bun per person and a bowl of vegetables. The bun looked decent, but the cabbage-potato stew had no oil, smelling like pig slop.

Chen Zhou covered his mouth, nearly retching.

The food jailer, seeing his fussiness, took his portion. “Don’t want it, don’t eat. Think this is your Chen Mansion? No one serves you,” he said.

Chen Zhou’s heart sank. It was only the second day, and he felt like dying. Thirteen more days—how would he survive?

Luckily, Zhou Yufu’s bribes helped. That afternoon, she gave each jailer ten taels, allowing her and a servant into the jail.

“Officer, can I speak with my son?” Zhou Yufu said, slipping another ten taels into the jailer’s hand.

The jailer pocketed it, pretending reluctance. “Hurry up. Rules say you can’t stay long,” he said.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make it hard for you,” Zhou Yufu said, smiling.

The jailer unlocked the door, gesturing her in. “Go. I’ll call when time’s up,” he said.

“Thank you, officer,” Zhou Yufu said, thanking him.

As she entered, Chen Zhou rushed over. “Mother, get me out. This isn’t a place for people. I’ll go mad,” he said.

“Zhou’er, endure a few more days. I’ve bribed them. Bear it, and it’ll pass. I’ll have servants bring you food daily. Tell them what you need. A dozen days will fly by,” Zhou Yufu soothed.

“No, Mother, it’s too dirty. There are rats. I can’t stay. I’ll die,” Chen Zhou said, crying nonstop.

Zhou Yufu comforted him, seeing his wounds, her heart aching. “How did you get these marks?” she said.

“They beat me. I can’t stay,” Chen Zhou said, crying. He’d never suffered like this. “I’ll make Wei Lan pay. It’s her fault, that useless trash.”

“Alright, we’ll plan when you’re out. Here’s the food I brought. Eat. I brought bedding too,” Zhou Yufu said, crying.

Soon, the jailer returned. “Time’s up. Come out,” he said.

He opened the door, pulling Zhou Yufu out. “Enough, time’s up. Go,” he said.

Chen Zhou clung to the bars, crying, “Mother, save me.”

“Alright, I’ll have food sent tomorrow,” Zhou Yufu said.

The jail’s inmates watched the drama.

“What did that pretty boy do? Acting like he’s facing execution tomorrow,” one said.

“I heard he instigated a scam. Minor stuff, out in a dozen days,” another said.

“Crying over a dozen days? So dramatic,” another said.

“No kidding. Acting like he’s dying,” another added.

“Rich folks are so fussy,” another said.

—

Two days later, in the capital, Fan Chuan finally reached the day to visit Shen Lingwei’s family.

That morning, Fan Chuan and Shen Lingwei rose early. Fan Chuan stood by the bed as Shen Lingwei helped her dress.

These past few days, whenever Fan Chuan woke, Shen Lingwei rose early too, assisting with her clothes.

Fan Chuan wasn’t used to it. In the military, she did these herself. Now, having someone share meals and sleep, even dressing her, felt strange.

But she couldn’t refuse. She glanced down at Shen Lingwei, who was carefully tying her sash.

Fan Chuan’s gaze lingered on Shen Lingwei’s features. Her brows and eyes were strikingly beautiful, with long, curled lashes and clear, gentle eyes.

Shen Lingwei’s appearance always made her lower her guard.

Fan Chuan sighed. Shen Lingwei noticed and looked up, concerned. “Did the Marshal sleep poorly last night?” she said.

“Perhaps. It’s fine, won’t affect business,” Fan Chuan said casually.

“After we visit the Prime Minister’s Mansion for formalities, if there’s nothing else, rest in my bedroom,” Shen Lingwei said, taking Fan Chuan’s waistband from the rack. She reached behind Fan Chuan to fasten the clasp.

Shen Lingwei’s arms encircled Fan Chuan, almost leaning into her embrace.

Fan Chuan avoided Shen Lingwei’s gaze, pursing her lips as if to hide her quickening heartbeat. It must be her years in the military, rarely interacting with Kunze, she thought, relaxing slightly.

“No need. Today’s your family visit, so you’re the priority,” Fan Chuan said, suppressing her discomfort, speaking calmly.

“Thank you for your consideration, Marshal,” Shen Lingwei said, smiling up at Fan Chuan. Her arms around Fan Chuan’s back aligned the clasp, securing the waistband.

“No need for such courtesy,” Fan Chuan said, avoiding Shen Lingwei’s smiling eyes, turning her head.

Shen Lingwei, seeing her look away, said nothing, gently adjusting Fan Chuan’s dress. Her jade-like fingers smoothed the wrinkles on Fan Chuan’s chest. To outsiders, they’d seem deeply affectionate.

Fan Chuan wasn’t so particular when dressing herself. Wrinkles didn’t bother her—she wore clothes and left, ignoring minor imperfections.

But Shen Lingwei was meticulous. For three days since their marriage, she dressed Fan Chuan.

Shen Lingwei even chose Fan Chuan’s next day’s dress and matching waistband the night before, carefully assisting her, smoothing every wrinkle until perfect, then smiling gently, saying, “Done.”

As now, Shen Lingwei checked Fan Chuan’s dress, ensuring no issues, then smiled up at her. “Marshal, done,” she said.

Fan Chuan snapped back, nodding at Shen Lingwei. “Good. Let’s eat, then leave early,” she said.

“Good,” Shen Lingwei said. She felt little attachment to the current Prime Minister’s Mansion. With her mother gone, anywhere was the same. She only missed her small courtyard there, where she grew up. Returning early to see it was fine, as they might soon depart for the Northern Border.

Fan Chuan ate silently, and Shen Lingwei was the same. Raised strictly, she ate slowly, disliking table talk.

Their silent meals were harmonious, not awkward, but comfortable.