Chapter 123: Song the Second: My Back Aches, What Should I Do?

When Song Zhicheng returned to his courtyard with his hands behind his back, his wife was flipping through a storybook under the lamplight. Seeing him arrive, she tossed the book aside and hurried over to greet him.

"Other wives are busy sewing and mending under the lamp, but you, my dear woman, spend your time reading those wild tales that exaggerate everything to the heavens," Song Zhicheng teased, squinting at her as he opened his arms to enjoy her service.

Lady Jiang spat at him playfully. "As if I need to do any sewing or mending! What are the embroiderers in the manor for? And the maids we keep—we pay them monthly wages, not to let them act like young ladies who don't have to lift a finger."

"You, oh you... for all that talk, I’ve never seen you actually treat those girls as mere maids," Song Zhicheng poked her forehead.

Lady Jiang tilted her head proudly. "Qingyang and the others are different; they are like younger sisters to me. It's fine to keep them, there are others to take care of the chores."

Song Zhicheng chuckled. Even though his wife had a bold, worldly air about her, he cherished that very quality. He found women who were coy and obscure, unable to express their thoughts clearly, to be a headache to communicate with. His wife, however, was refreshing—everything she thought was laid out in the open, easy to understand at a glance.

"You were with your eldest brother for so long, the bathwater must be cold by now," Lady Jiang said, patting his waist. "Go and soak first; I'll tell Mother Gu and the others to bring some fresh hot water."

Song Zhicheng gave her a suggestive wink. "Care to join me?"

"Get lost!" Lady Jiang blushed, tapping him on the chest. "Finish your bath and have a midnight snack first. We'll see about the rest later."

No, it wasn't going to be "whatever he wanted" anymore; from now on, things would have to be on her terms. In her mind’s eye, Lady Jiang could already see a little daughter reaching out with soft, pink hands, and she felt a surge of excitement. Song Zhicheng, watching her, felt a strange twinge of apprehension. He subconsciously touched his waist; he hadn't even done anything yet, but his lower back was already starting to ache.

When Song Zhicheng finished washing and stepped out, he saw the midnight snack waiting on the table. Good heavens, had his wife run out of private funds to stock the kitchen? Why was everything vegetarian? He looked at the spread: a bowl of milk, a cold seaweed salad, a plate of stir-fried baby greens, braised mushrooms, and deep-fried tofu...

"Yingniang, are you short on silver?" Song Zhicheng asked, his eyes full of concern. "If you're feeling strapped, just tell your husband. No matter what, we shouldn't be depriving ourselves, right?"

Lady Jiang blinked, then burst into a laugh. "There’s plenty of silver. Hurry up and eat. It’s late; a light, vegetarian meal is just fine."

Seeing her reaction, Song Zhicheng had no choice but to pick up his chopsticks. After the vegetarian meal, the couple drank some strong tea. Song Zhicheng couldn't help but remark, "I know you missed me, but you don't need to prepare to stay awake all night, do you?" Look at how strong this tea was.

Lady Jiang simply took his teacup away, climbed into his lap, and stroked his chest. "Be quick. To the bed with you."

Song Zhicheng’s heart began to race.

Once he was in bed, Song Zhicheng found himself unable to escape. His wife was acting in ways that were quite peculiar; it was exhilarating, certainly, but it also left him feeling a bit frazzled.

"Wife, has some new 'book of delights' appeared in the capital's markets? Have you been studying it?" Otherwise, why would she be so bold tonight?

Lady Jiang gripped the pillow with both hands and turned over. "Had enough rest? Let's go again." She had calculated everything, even secretly asking her mother-in-law about the so-called "safe period." Regardless of how well she had been regulating her health this month, she had to try. Oh, daughter, my dear daughter, your mother is waiting for you.

Song Zhicheng: "..." His wife’s enthusiasm was becoming more than he could handle. His waist was aching terribly. What was he to do?