Transmigrated as a Cannon Fodder Wife A in Ancient Times - Chapter 68

Chapter 68

After eating, Fan Chuan ordered the servants to prepare the carriage and horses, along with gifts for the family visit.

Yun Heng arranged everything and then went to Fan Chuan’s bedroom to report.

“Marshal, everything outside is ready. You and Madam can depart,” Yun Heng said, bowing respectfully.

Fan Chuan nodded, looking at Shen Lingwei. “Let’s go. We’ll stay overnight at the Prime Minister’s Mansion and return tomorrow morning,” she said.

“Good,” Shen Lingwei said, nodding slightly. She stood and followed Fan Chuan out of the bedroom.

Yun Heng, Xiao Tao, and a group of maids and guards trailed behind. Xiao Tao watched the two ahead with mixed feelings. Miss had been married into the Marshal’s Mansion for three days, and it wasn’t the chaos Xiao Tao imagined. Fan Chuan seemed courteous.

Miss lived much as she did at home, reading in the bedroom or strolling in the garden. The terrifying scenes Xiao Tao envisioned didn’t happen, but she still worried. She feared Fan Chuan was pretending in the capital, and her true nature might show once they left.

Fan Chuan, unaware of this, walked with Shen Lingwei to the Marshal’s Mansion’s main gate. A carriage, escort guards, and servants with gifts were ready.

The servants had prepared a wooden stool for boarding the carriage. Fan Chuan looked at Shen Lingwei. “I’ll help you,” she said.

“Good. Thank you, Marshal,” Shen Lingwei said, smiling. She offered her left hand.

Fan Chuan held Shen Lingwei’s hand with one hand, supporting her back with the other, assisting her onto the carriage.

After Shen Lingwei boarded, Fan Chuan climbed in nimbly.

Xiao Tao glanced inside, knowing she couldn’t join her miss, so she sat on the empty side of the door to attend to Shen Lingwei if needed.

Shen Lingwei sat upright in the carriage, her gaze fixed forward. When passing bustling streets, she instinctively listened, tilting her ear. If alone with Xiao Tao, she might have peeked outside, but with Fan Chuan, she refrained.

Fan Chuan spoke. “The capital is lively. Zhuozhou doesn’t have such vibrant markets. If you want anything these days, send them to buy it. We may leave the capital soon,” she said.

“Good,” Shen Lingwei said, nodding, her face calm, as if prepared.

Looking at Shen Lingwei, Fan Chuan fell silent. She wasn’t talkative, and Shen Lingwei’s special status—as someone placed by the old emperor—made her cautious. Saying too much risked mistakes, and Fan Chuan didn’t want to leave vulnerabilities.

The carriage grew quiet, so silent a pin drop could be heard.

After a while, perhaps finding the atmosphere strange, Shen Lingwei asked. “Can you tell me about the Northern Border? I grew up in the city and never went elsewhere,” she said.

Mentioning the Northern Border, Fan Chuan’s expression softened. The capital was prosperous, but the Northern Border was where she spent the most time.

“It’s full of yellow sand, especially at the borderlands, with endless deserts. On the Gobi plains, there are market-like places. When not fighting, the northern Xiongnu trade with border locals, mostly bartering. It’s very different from the capital,” Fan Chuan said, a smile on her face.

“It sounds beautiful. Are deserts like the sandy hills described in travelogues?” Shen Lingwei said, curious about unseen things. She loved travelogues and had read about deserts.

“Yes, endless ones. Sitting there watching the moon and stars feels like you could touch them. It’s a unique landscape,” Fan Chuan said.

“I hope I can see it someday,” Shen Lingwei said, smiling and shaking her head. She spoke casually, knowing their awkward relationship. In the Northern Border, she’d likely be sidelined in the Marshal’s Mansion, with no chance for such sights.

“There’ll be a chance. When we return to the Northern Border, I’ll take you,” Fan Chuan said, seeing her genuine interest.

“Good. Thank you, Marshal,” Shen Lingwei said, assuming Fan Chuan spoke offhandedly. Given their relationship, Fan Chuan would likely forget her words by tomorrow.

They chatted about the Northern Border’s customs. The carriage arrived. Fan Chuan jumped down first, then reached to help Shen Lingwei. Xiao Tao intended to assist her miss but withdrew, seeing Fan Chuan help.

For a family visit, a loving couple’s appearance was best, or Miss’s siblings would gloat. Xiao Tao disliked them—there was no familial bond, only scheming.

Fan Chuan and Shen Lingwei reached the Prime Minister’s Mansion gate. Zhang Xiu, with Shen Lingwei’s siblings, waited there.

Seeing them, Zhang Xiu greeted warmly. “Lingwei’s back. Your father mentioned you yesterday. He was summoned by His Majesty this morning and hasn’t returned. Come in,” she said.

“Thank you, Mother-in-law,” Fan Chuan said respectfully.

“Come in. Lingwei’s always been sensible since childhood. How have you two been these days?” Zhang Xiu said, seeming concerned but probing Shen Lingwei’s life in the Marshal’s Mansion.

“Very well. Madam is gentle and attentive. Marrying me is truly beneath her,” Fan Chuan said, having observed Shen Lingwei’s meticulousness these days, flawless in every detail. No wonder she was called the capital’s top talent.

“Marshal jests. You treat me well too. Besides, so young and a marshal guarding a region—how is it beneath me? It’s more like I married up,” Shen Lingwei said.

Zhang Xiu’s gaze darted between them. Something was off. Weren’t they supposed to be distrustful, resentful spouses? Why did they seem to get along?

Zhang Xiu felt uneasy. Shen Lingwei, the legitimate daughter of Shen Fangzhou’s first wife, was talented and beautiful from childhood. In the capital’s elite circles, no Kunze rivaled her.

The more flawless Shen Lingwei was, the more Zhang Xiu envied her. For this arranged marriage, Zhang Xiu feigned worry but was secretly thrilled. No matter Shen Lingwei’s status or talent, she’d marry a rough warrior, destined for a lifetime of hardship.

But now, reality differed. Fan Chuan didn’t seem like a battle-hardened marshal but more like a pampered young master Qianyuan from a wealthy family.

They weren’t at odds as Zhang Xiu imagined. Both seemed satisfied with each other.

This displeased Zhang Xiu, but she couldn’t show it. For the Prime Minister’s Mansion’s reputation and her own, she maintained a kind motherly facade.

Fan Chuan and Shen Lingwei were ushered to the front hall. Zhang Xiu continued awkward small talk. Finally, Shen Lingwei stood, saying she’d show Fan Chuan her old courtyard.

Fan Chuan followed Shen Lingwei, who smiled faintly as they walked. “Did you find that dull?” she said.

Fan Chuan hadn’t expected this and quickly denied it. “No,” she said.

“How could it not be? I found it dull myself. She’s not my birth mother, my father’s second wife, so we’re not close, just civil,” Shen Lingwei said.

She stopped there, pointing to a courtyard ahead. “That’s my little courtyard. Come, I’ll show you,” she said.

“Hmm,” Fan Chuan said, stepping forward. Rarely in the capital, she didn’t know Zhang Xiu wasn’t Shen Lingwei’s birth mother.

Fan Chuan didn’t dwell on it, following Shen Lingwei. Soon, an elegant garden appeared, filled with various flowers. A gazebo stood in the center, where Shen Lingwei loved to sip tea and read. Across was her bedroom and study.

“Look there. I planted most of these flowers with the gardener, all kinds,” Shen Lingwei said.

Confined to the Prime Minister’s Mansion, she only left for other Kunze’s banquets, never exploring the capital’s landscapes, let alone the Great Zhou’s other regions.

So, Shen Lingwei grew many flowers, including rare ones, treating them as a substitute for far-off travels.

Fan Chuan, unaware, found the garden beautiful, with many unfamiliar flowers. Such an elegant place suited Shen Lingwei.

“Let’s rest in my bedroom. When my father returns, we may need to go to the front hall,” Shen Lingwei said, opening her bedroom door.

A Kunze’s bedroom was private, accessible only to herself and her maids, but now it didn’t matter—her wife was beside her.

Fan Chuan, entering a Kunze’s boudoir for the first time, felt shy despite being a grand marshal.

She glanced around instinctively. Shen Lingwei’s room was refined, like her, elegant and orderly, reflecting a meticulous owner.

Fan Chuan wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but she caught a faint floral scent, like cold orchid, subtle unless noticed.

“What a beautiful bedroom, much tidier than mine,” Fan Chuan said, smiling in praise. Compared to Shen Lingwei, she lived roughly.

“No matter. I’ll keep our bedroom tidy too,” Shen Lingwei said, smiling faintly. She turned to the round table to pour tea. The courtyard maids, knowing of today’s visit, had cleaned and prepared fresh tea.

Fan Chuan froze, struck by Shen Lingwei’s smile—so beautiful.

She took deep breaths, cold sweat on her back. No, only a few days, and she was nearly undone. What would happen in the Northern Border?

Shen Lingwei was the old emperor’s plant. She couldn’t let her guard down. That gentle seduction was more dangerous than battlefield tactics. She nearly succumbed.

Fan Chuan closed her eyes, mentally warning herself, her racing heart calming.

Shen Lingwei had poured tea, turning to offer Fan Chuan a cup. “This year’s new tea is a bit astringent, but I add dried fruit and sugar, giving it a unique flavor. Try it,” she said.

“Good,” Fan Chuan said, thirsty. She took the cup and drank it in one gulp.

Her drinking amused Shen Lingwei. “Slow down. Drinking so fast, did you taste it?” she said.

Fan Chuan shook her head. She hadn’t, only noting the tea’s sweetness, quite nice.

Shen Lingwei took her cup, pouring another. Fan Chuan sipped slowly this time, tasting the tea’s fragrance mixed with the fruit’s sweetness, quite good.

“The tea’s aroma blends with the fruit’s sweetness. It’s delicious,” Fan Chuan said, nodding in praise.

“Glad you like it. I’ll brew it this way at the mansion,” Shen Lingwei said, pouring herself a cup and sipping.

Her clear gaze at Fan Chuan felt like casual spousal chat.

Fan Chuan looked away, walking to the table to pour herself tea. “Good. Any way is fine,” she said.

She drank another cup.

Shen Lingwei’s gaze held curiosity. Three cups in a moment—was she that thirsty? Or afraid?

But of what? Shen Lingwei was a powerless Kunze. Could a grand marshal fear her?

“Want to rest? Or stroll in the garden with me?” Shen Lingwei asked, seeing Fan Chuan’s unease.

“Let’s walk together,” Fan Chuan said, relieved. She struggled with clever Kunze, sweating already.