You Stole My Husband, So I Seduced Your Son - Chapter 20

“Nonsense,” Song Xuwan replied, returning the greeting. “You are the daughter of my husband’s Honored Teacher, and I consider you family. If my husband had told me sooner, we would have invited you to stay at our residence. How could we let you live in such a humble annex? It’s an insult to you, Sister.”

As she spoke, Song Xuwan glared at Zhou Minghai. “Husband, you’ve been too careless about this matter. Letting Sister stay here makes it look like I don’t know how to treat guests properly, as if I’m neglecting her.”

With that, she naturally took Min Rongxue’s hand and led her inside, continuing warmly, “Sister, please don’t stand on ceremony. Make yourself at home here. If anything is uncomfortable, just tell the servants, and they’ll inform me. Please don’t even think about moving out—that would be a slap in the face to us as a couple.”

Song Xuwan’s rapid-fire speech left Min Rongxue no room to interject. She could only awkwardly agree, “Madam, you’re too kind.”

Left trailing behind, Zhou Minghai wiped the cold sweat from his brow, feeling that he had weathered about eighty percent of this crisis.

Fortunately, he had been quick-witted enough to offer a plausible explanation. Moreover, his interactions with Min Rongxue had been infrequent—only visiting her every few days. He wasn’t worried about Song Xuwan investigating him.

Besides, his conscience was clear. He had no intention of keeping a mistress; he simply longed to return to the past, spending his days with Min Rongxue, composing poetry, discussing flowers, and admiring the moon together.

Slowly, Zhou Minghai straightened his back, clasped his hands behind him, and strolled into the courtyard like an Eldest Master.

The group settled in the flower hall. Song Xuwan warmly drew Min Rongxue into conversation, discussing trivial matters of the household—the usual gossip among women. Zhou Minghai leisurely sipped his tea nearby, content that his remaining years would unfold in such tranquility, leaving him with no regrets.

After refilling his teacup twice, Zhou Minghai noticed a hint of impatience on Min Rongxue’s face. He quickly interjected, “Madam, what brings you here so suddenly today?”

“Oh,” Song Xuwan replied, as if just remembering the matter, “I went to the temple to offer incense and heard rumors of an impending heavy rain after a long dry spell. I worried about the Annex, which hasn’t been maintained in years, so I came to check on it.”

“But Husband had already sent people to repair it! You truly think of everything in advance.”

Zhou Minghai accepted the praise without a trace of shame, as if his order to repair the Annex had genuinely been for summer rain protection, rather than to welcome Min Rongxue.

By now, he was fully convinced that everything today was a coincidence, and that Song Xuwan hadn’t suspected anything and come to investigate.

Noticing Min Rongxue’s discomfort, he decided to change the subject. “Would Your Esteemed Son be available to join us for a chat?”

Listening to the subtle cues exchanged between Song Xuwan and Zhou Minghai, Min Rongxue pieced together the situation. She understood everything now and felt utterly mortified.

Min Rongxue was renowned for her virtue and talent. After Prince Guangyang’s death years ago, she had single-handedly raised their two children. In an ordinary family, she could have petitioned the court for a chastity memorial arch.

Yet today, thanks to Zhou Minghai’s unreliability, she had been so belittled by Song Xuwan.

Her face remained icy as she replied, “My son is studying with his classmates at Fuyun Temple during the day and returns only in the evening.”

The refusal was unmistakable.

Knowing Min Rongxue’s temperament, Zhou Minghai didn’t press further. He was about to take his leave when a servant suddenly announced, “Young Master Ji has returned. Hearing that our benefactor is here, he wishes to pay his respects.”

For days, Ji Moyang had been unable to focus on his studies or sleep soundly. Today, he had even glimpsed the young woman from his dreams, making it impossible to remain at Fuyun Temple.

He decided to return early, hoping that seeing his mother’s stern face might rekindle his ambition.

As he approached the gate, he noticed an unfamiliar carriage. Upon inquiring, he learned that their benefactor and his wife were visiting.

He had long heard of this benefactor—a disciple of his maternal grandfather and the only one among his grandfather’s disciples who regularly sent them financial support from their ancestral home. His kindness was truly immeasurable.

Now that he was staying at his benefactor’s annex, Ji Moyang had already been terribly impolite by not personally thanking his benefactor, as his mother had instructed. If his benefactor were present and he pretended not to see him, it would be a complete waste of all the Confucian classics he had studied.

Standing outside the Flower Hall, he pondered how to express his gratitude for the years of kindness he had received.

A servant soon invited him inside.

Straightening his Daoist robe, Ji Moyang stepped into the Flower Hall. At the center of the room, beside an octagonal table, sat his benefactor and his wife.

The benefactor, seated to the left, appeared to be in his thirties or forties, wearing a gray-blue Hangzhou silk zhiduo. His refined and composed demeanor perfectly matched Ji Moyang’s image of him.

But the benefactor’s wife, seated to the right…

Ji Moyang felt as if he had been struck by lightning, his soul seemingly ripped from his body. He stood frozen, utterly still.

How could it be her? The woman with whom he had shared a fleeting moment of pleasure?

She was his benefactor’s wife?

He had slept with his benefactor’s wife?

All his self-proclaimed righteousness, his mastery of Confucian classics, and the praise he had received for his moral character had led him to this: sleeping with his benefactor’s wife.

Was he even human anymore?

He was nothing but a beast!

Seeing Ji Moyang’s dazed, disoriented state, Song Xuwan feigned embarrassment and lowered her head to sip her tea.

She couldn’t suppress her inner excitement. Hadn’t Ji Moyang vowed to forget her and focus on his studies? She’d see if he could still pretend nothing had happened and concentrate on his books after today.

With the Autumn Provincial Exam just over a month away, such emotional turmoil before the crucial exam would trip even a prodigy like Ji Moyang.

Moreover, she planned to visit frequently, tempting him into even greater mistakes that might lead the Education Commissioner to disqualify him from the exam altogether.

Min Rongxue, embarrassed by her son’s awkwardness and lack of manners, walked over to Ji Moyang and whispered, “Have you studied yourself into a stupor? You can’t even speak properly.”

Zhou Minghai, who had long heard of Ji Moyang’s literary talent, now saw him as a bookworm obsessed with poetry and oblivious to social graces.

Unwilling to let Min Rongxue lose face, he quickly rose and said, “We’ve stayed long enough. It’s time we returned. Your son has been studying all day and needs to rest.”

After speaking, he stood up first, and Min Rongxue hurriedly turned to see him off.

Ji Moyang remained with his head bowed, staring at his toes. As the orange-red gauze skirt brushed past him, his entire body tensed, his fists clenched so tightly he feared he might lose control and reach out to grasp the fading fabric.

When Min Rongxue returned to the Flower Hall after seeing Zhou Minghai and his wife off, she found Ji Moyang still standing motionless. Her anger flared instantly.

“Is this the etiquette I taught you? You don’t know how to bow to your benefactor, nor how to see them off when they leave. Now you can’t even utter a single word?”

Ji Moyang remained standing, unmoving.

Min Rongxue’s anger intensified. “Do you even know who you are? Does this behavior honor the years of hardship I endured raising you? Do you realize how difficult it was for us to leave our ancestral home and reach the Capital for the imperial examinations?”