Chapter 11
Chapter 11: Son Opens His Eyes, Forcing Father to Take a Concubine
Old Madam’s words—
“I think it’s you.”
—sank into Madam Wang like a blade, poisoned and precise.
For a moment she couldn’t hear anything but the roar inside her ears. Darkness pulsed at the edges of her vision.
Can’t bear children.
Those words were the deepest shadow of her twenty years in the manor.
Each syllable from her mother-in-law was a slap across her face—loud, burning, humiliating.
Yes, she was anxious.
How old was Qing Xuan now?
He was long past coming of age, yet his room had no one to warm his bed—no gentle presence, no intimate companion, not even a bed-warming maid.
As his mother, how could she not be anxious until her mouth blistered?
And yet—
Status and birth were a mountain that never moved. It crushed down on her heart until she could barely breathe.
Letting a low-born maid become a legal wife was a disgrace to the house.
She, Madam Wang, could not endure that shame.
And as for Old Madam’s insinuation—that Heir Lord should take another woman and father another child—Madam Wang refused with every breath in her body.
Why?
She had carried this household for twenty years. She had worn herself down, hair whitening strand by strand, the corners of her eyes creasing from endless wakeful nights.
And now, because she hadn’t given birth to a second son, she was supposed to shove her husband into another woman’s arms?
Not a chance.
Her nails bit into her palms. The sharp pain steadied her thoughts, dragged her back from the cliff.
She could not let Old Madam pin her down like this.
She drew a deep breath, swallowed the metallic taste rising in her throat, and forced a smile so stiff it hurt.
“Mother… what are you saying?”
Her voice scraped out, barely steady.
“How could I not be anxious? Qing Xuan is my heart. I want him married, settled, with children—more than anyone.”
“It’s just… it’s too sudden.”
She leaned forward slightly, lowering her posture, softening her tone.
“Qing Xuan has been like a little old man since childhood, talking about Buddha and Dao all day. None of us imagined he’d… open his eyes so quickly.”
“We need time to breathe and think.”
She lifted her gaze to meet Old Madam’s scrutiny and let pleading show—just enough to be useful.
“Mother, please—let me speak with Heir Lord tonight. I’ll feel out his thoughts.”
“Tomorrow… tomorrow I will give you an answer.”
“And please don’t anger yourself over this. It isn’t worth harming your health.”
As if to prove her filial care, Madam Wang turned and called toward the door.
“Xiu He—quickly. Go to the small kitchen and stew snow pear with bird’s nest for Old Madam. Clear the heart. Cool the fire.”
“Yes.”
Xiu He curtsied and hurried away.
Old Madam sat with a cold face, staring at Madam Wang without speaking. The air thickened until it felt hard to draw breath.
After a long while, Old Madam gave a heavy snort—half permission, half warning.
Madam Wang felt as if she’d been granted her life back.
She braced one hand on the table as she rose. Her legs were weak, shaking like paper.
“Then… Mother, please rest. Your daughter-in-law will take her leave.”
She bowed and turned quickly.
In her haste, her foot caught the high threshold and she nearly pitched forward.
“Madam!”
A maid outside cried out and rushed to steady her.
Madam Wang went pale again. She didn’t even have the strength to correct her posture. She fled the Green Reed Courtyard as if chased.
Cold wind struck her face.
Only then did she realize her back was drenched—her clothes soaked through with sweat.
The rest of the day passed in misery.
She shut herself in her room, refused all visitors, and paced until the floorboards creaked under her steps.
At last dusk fell. At last Heir Lord returned.
Footsteps approached—familiar, steady.
Madam Wang’s heart leaped straight into her throat.
The door opened.
Heir Lord Lin De Fang entered, tall and straight, with an easy air that suggested the world had been kind to him today. In his hand was a delicate brocade pouch embroidered with twin lotuses in gold and silver thread. He lifted it as if presenting a treasure.
“Madam, look.”
His eyes smiled. His voice carried bright pride.
“I saw it on the street today. It’s beautifully made. The moment I saw it, I thought—this should be yours.”
He held it out, pleased with himself.
“Well? Isn’t your husband thinking of you at every moment?”
On another day, she might have laughed, teased him back, let that sweetness soften her.
Today, she couldn’t.
She stared at the spring-breeze satisfaction on his face and felt something heavy lodge in her chest.
She didn’t take the pouch.
She lifted her head slowly and spoke, each word measured like a stone placed on a scale.
“Heir Lord.”
“Your Buddhist Scion of a son… has opened his eyes.”
Lin De Fang’s smile froze, as if his mind couldn’t grasp the shape of the sentence.
“Hm? What?”
Madam Wang watched his blank confusion and felt a flame lick up inside her—hot, sharp, unfair.
“I said your precious son has stopped chanting and bowing to Buddha!”
“He’s taken a liking to someone!”
“He’s opened his eyes!”
The words flew out like arrows.
Lin De Fang went rigid.
The brocade pouch slipped from his hand and dropped with a soft thud.
He stared, mouth half open, eyes wide. It took him a long moment to swallow the news.
Silence filled the room.
Then—
Lin De Fang slapped his thigh so hard it cracked.
Instead of anger, his face lit up with a strange, feverish excitement—shock and understanding tangled together.
He shouted, voice pitching high with triumph.
“The love tribulation!”
“It’s the love tribulation! The love hurdle Master Shi Neng spoke of—his trial has arrived!”
“I knew it! I knew Master Shi Neng was right!”