Chapter 12
Chapter 12: First Madam’s Sultry Night
Lin De Fang’s handsome face was almost radiant with wild joy.
He turned in a circle as if he didn’t know what to do with his own limbs, hands lifting and dropping, laughter and words tumbling out in a breathless rush.
The brocade pouch lay abandoned on the floor, its twin lotus embroidery dusted gray.
Madam Wang watched him and felt something in her chest catch—hard and bitter.
She’d been frightened in the Green Reed Courtyard.
She’d suffered the whole afternoon like a person walking on needles.
And this—this was what she got?
He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t worried. He looked like a man who’d struck gold.
Her face went from pale to green, from green to dark. At last she bared her teeth and spoke, voice cold as winter glass.
“You’re happy?”
“Your precious son has opened his eyes and wants to drag some young miss into trouble, and you’re happy—yes?”
Her ice cut through his frenzy.
Lin De Fang blinked at her, startled into stillness, as if he’d just noticed the room existed.
“Madam… what are you saying? Qing Xuan is going through a trial. That’s a good thing!”
“A good thing?”
Madam Wang gave a cold laugh, thin and sharp, packed with anger.
“Then let me tell you an even better piece of news.”
“Mother—your mother—gave an order this afternoon.”
Her eyes burned.
“She wants me to help you take a concubine.”
The words take a concubine landed heavy, like stones.
“Mother said my belly is useless—that I only gave you one precious son. She wants to find you a young, beautiful woman to bear children, so your Lin family can ‘continue the line.’”
Madam Wang’s voice rose until it trembled.
“Now tell me, Heir Lord—does that make you happy? Are you thrilled?”
The last words burst out, carrying every ounce of humiliation, fear, and fury she’d held back all day.
Lin De Fang’s smile shattered.
“What?”
The joy drained from his face, replaced by disbelief.
“A concubine? What are you talking about?”
He frowned and stepped close, reaching for her hand. She snapped away from him, refusing the touch.
“Madam, listen—”
His voice turned urgent, the earlier madness gone.
He bent, picked up the brocade pouch, brushed the dust off carefully, and offered it to her again as if softness could mend everything.
“My heart has only ever held you. From the day we married.”
“As for other women—forget bringing them into our home. I wouldn’t even spare them a glance. It would dirty my eyes.”
He leaned in, gaze steady.
“Mother is anxious to hold a great-grandson. Don’t take her words to heart. Tomorrow I’ll go speak to her and end this.”
His sincerity was plain enough to touch her.
In another moment, in another mood, those words might have undone her entirely.
Even now, her heart softened in spite of itself.
Her eyes stung. The rage inside her cooled as if splashed with clear water, leaving only thin smoke and aching embers.
She looked at him and felt both wounded and unwillingly comforted.
This man could be such a bastard she wanted to strike him, and yet sometimes he could be tender enough to make her chest ache.
She sniffed, turned her face away, and spoke in a stiff, resentful murmur.
“Your precious son… he’s taken a liking to a little maid in Mother’s courtyard.”
“And Mother says the maid… probably doesn’t like our Qing Xuan.”
To her own surprise, a trace of spiteful satisfaction slipped into her tone.
Serves him right.
He’d chanted scriptures all day, driving everyone mad—now someone had the nerve to reject him.
Good.
Lin De Fang listened, then—
“Pfft.”
He laughed.
Madam Wang’s embers flared into a blaze.
“You’re laughing?”
“What’s funny?”
“Your son was rejected and you can still laugh? Are you even his father?”
“Aiyo, my good Madam,” Lin De Fang said, still amused, lifting both hands as if surrendering. “I’m his father. That’s why I’m happy.”
He tugged her toward the couch, eyes bright, speaking with eager certainty.
“Think about it. What did Master Shi Neng say? A love tribulation. A love hurdle.”
“What’s a tribulation if it isn’t hard? What’s a hurdle if it doesn’t block the road?”
“If everything comes easily, where’s the trial?”
He even put on a thoughtful look, as if he were teaching a lesson.
“If that little maid threw herself at Qing Xuan the moment she saw him, that wouldn’t be a tribulation. That would be a gift from heaven.”
“Our son would drop his monk robes and return to the secular world on the spot—what trial would be left?”
“But now he likes her and she doesn’t like him—that’s interesting. That’s worth watching.”
He slapped his thigh again, excitement rising.
“That’s a real challenge. That’s a real love hurdle.”
“I want to see how my son gets past this first one.”
Madam Wang stared at him, momentarily speechless.
His logic was crooked, yet somehow… it almost held.
Lin De Fang saw the doubt in her face and leaned closer, sliding an arm around her shoulders, voice dropping into something confidential.
“Madam, don’t overthink it. Maid or noble lady—if our son likes her, that’s what matters.”
“As for status—who cares? At this point, if it gets that boy to return to the secular world, I’ll accept anything.”
He sighed as if burdened by the same fear.
“And you know Mother. She threatens to take a concubine every time she’s impatient. When has she ever truly done it? She just wants to scare you so she can hurry and hold a great-grandson.”
He gave her shoulder a small squeeze.
“Don’t act like she’s the only one anxious. You and I… aren’t we anxious too?”
That struck right where she hurt.
Yes.
Qing Xuan was their only son. If he truly left the world, this branch of the family would end.
Madam Wang’s face dimmed with worry, and Lin De Fang’s eyes flicked—quick, calculating. An idea, bright and terrible, blossomed behind them.
He lowered his voice, as if sharing a secret too clever for daylight.
“Madam… your husband has a plan.”
“Guaranteed to fix everything—quickly.”
Madam Wang’s stomach tightened.
Lin De Fang smiled, the kind of smile that belonged on a man up to no good.
“The maid doesn’t want it? Easy.”
“We find a chance, quiet as shadows, and give her a little something—something that makes her weak all over, unable to speak.”
“Then we strip her and toss her onto Qing Xuan’s bed.”
His voice stayed calm, as if he were describing how to move furniture.
“By morning, the deed is done. She can cry all she wants—what can she do but swallow it?”
“And then you and I can finally wait in peace for a grandson.”
The room went dead.
Madam Wang stared at him, stunned, then horrified, then furious, her face darkening until it looked carved from iron.
She lifted a shaking finger and pointed at him. Her hand trembled like a leaf in wind.
For a long time she couldn’t speak.
Heir Lord and Old Madam truly were mother and son.
For the sake of a great-grandson, their minds ran on the same track. Their methods came from the same mold.
At last, Madam Wang sucked in a breath.
“Lin. De. Fang.”
She stood so abruptly her chest tightened in sharp waves. She had to press a hand hard against her heart.
“You shameless old thing!”
“Where are your rules? Your courtesy? The face of our manor—you’ve thrown it into the mud!”
Lin De Fang looked at her fury and, instead of fear, his amusement deepened.
He rose, straightened his robe with slow care, and tossed her a look that was openly suggestive.
“Oh?” he drawled. “Madam is talking rules with her husband?”
He stepped closer, closer, until her back met the wall.
Then he bent down, near enough that his breath brushed her ear.
“Then Madam, wait a moment.”
“I’ll go bathe in the side room. Wash off the dust.”
He paused, letting the silence stretch.
“And then…”
His voice dropped, low and rough, threaded with promise.
“I’ll come back and show you what ‘shameless’ really looks like.”
He straightened, flicked his sleeve with practiced swagger, and strolled toward the washroom.
Madam Wang stayed pressed to the wall, legs weak.
The flush on her face—born of anger—had, without her permission, turned into something else: a heat that spread beneath her skin, embarrassed and burning.
Outside, the night had thickened into ink.
It seemed tonight would be long, sultry, and impossible to sleep through.