Volume One, Chapter 17: Husband, I Am Not a Frail Woman

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Fu Zhixun quietly curved the corner of his lips.

Interesting.

Muxi, who had been anxiously watching Ming Shu, suddenly caught sight of Fu Zhixun and was startled.

His originally cold and handsome face now seemed like an ice river thawing, revealing the scenery beneath the water—not the blossoming beauty of spring flowers, but the intense and alluring bloom of the otherworldly underworld flower, as if… a demon had appeared!

Demons are known to devour humans.

Muxi stared at the tightly clasped hands of Ming Shu and Fu Zhixun, her heart seemingly clenched into a knot.

About fifteen minutes later, the black aura seeping from Fu Yanshan’s palm ceased.

Only then did Ming Shu release her hold on the two men’s hands, sitting cross-legged on the floor to calmly regulate the turbulent qi and blood within her.

Fu Yanshan stared fixedly at Ming Shu. When Mrs. Cheng called his name, he almost jumped up: “My niece-in-law is truly more powerful than those masters and Taoist priests! Madam, I feel as if I’ve grown younger by several years!”

Mrs. Cheng, hearing this, knew Fu Yanshan was fine and felt joy in her heart, though her expression remained composed: “As an elder, you should behave more like one.”

Ming Shu opened her eyes and said to them both, “Second uncle, second aunt, if you want peace of mind, you should take Dashan and Xiaoshu away from the manor for a few days. Once the Dragon Sparrow treasure sword arrives, I will completely cleanse the manor of its corpse and foul energies.”

She then pointed to the bronze square zun vessel. “I will deal with this as well.”

Fu Yanshan had no objections: “Good, good, we’ll all listen to you, niece-in-law!”

Mrs. Cheng cleared her throat lightly: “You must be careful. I have left Nian Mama here; if anything happens, find her.”

Ming Shu smiled faintly: “Alright.”

Mrs. Cheng was momentarily stunned. The woman before her wore no makeup, not a single piece of jewelry, clad in a simple blue cloth dress—less finely dressed than even the manor’s maids—but she felt Ming Shu was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen in her life.

The beauty was not only skin-deep, but bone-deep, radiating elegant refinement and a detached grace in her every gesture.

She couldn’t help but glance at Fu Zhixun again.

Three years ago, when this nephew returned from the northern frontier, she was equally struck: from such a harsh and barren land came a youth of unparalleled charm.

The noble sons she had read about in stories suddenly took on a vivid form.

However, beneath the strikingly handsome exterior of the third young master of the marquis’s household, lay a mind so deep it was impenetrable.

A dethroned princess, no matter how beautiful, was at best a mere ornamental vase to him—a troublesome vase forced in and envied.

But a beautiful princess capable of summoning souls and suppressing ghostly qi—what then did the third young master think of her?

With this in mind, Mrs. Cheng felt a long-lost playful spirit arise.

The marquis’s household had been dull for many years; finally, a good show was about to begin, and she was determined to watch closely.

She called Fu Yanshan away, leaving the place to the two of them.

Ming Shu was unaware of Mrs. Cheng’s thoughts, focusing instead on examining the aged antiques.

Fu Zhixun’s gaze followed Ming Shu’s movements, a trace of interest gradually surfacing in his cold eyes. “Among these antiques, besides the foul qi, there must be items that aid your cultivation.”

Ming Shu’s heart tightened—he had noticed.

Turning around, caught between lying and confessing, she quickly chose the latter: “Yes. If the previous owner was a practitioner or a feng shui master, some pure qi would remain.”

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“My injuries are not yet healed; to repair the seal, I must recover quickly. The pure qi benefits me.”

“Do you think it’s inappropriate, husband?”

Fu Zhixun smiled slightly, motioning politely to make himself comfortable, but did not leave the room. Instead, he sat down leisurely in the armchair.

Ming Shu looked up by chance, their eyes meeting, and she was momentarily taken aback.

His gaze was cold and distant, unlike the desire she saw in the eyes of the crown prince or the eldest young master of the marquis’s household—it was more like observing a novel object, with a hint of scrutiny but no curiosity.

With Ming Shu’s level of cultivation, she could never hide her true feelings from ordinary people, yet she could not see through Fu Zhixun.

Suddenly recalling the warmth Fu Yanshan showed him, she asked a question she had long wondered about: “Second uncle often admired antiques with you in the past, right?”

“Hmm,” he replied indifferently.

“You must have realized many were fakes, right?”

“Hmm.”

“Then why didn’t you tell him?”

Fu Zhixun countered, “Why would I?”

Ming Shu was momentarily speechless.

His tone remained calm: “What does it matter to me?”

Ming Shu was stunned for a long moment before blurting out, “Then why are you here today?”

A smirk curled Fu Zhixun’s lips: “Wasn’t it you who invited me?”

Ming Shu’s eyes widened: Isn’t it because your cousin got into trouble that you came?

“If madam invites me, how could I refuse?”

His words were ambiguous, but Ming Shu detected no affection at all. She found this future crafty prime minister increasingly inscrutable.

The knock on the door interrupted them, and a servant delivered the Dragon Sparrow treasure sword.

The four-foot-long blade radiated a piercing killing intent even before being drawn, yet within that aura was a solemn righteousness that could command respect from demons and ghosts alike.

No wonder it could purify the corpse qi in the courtyard.

Ming Shu wanted to draw the sword herself, but it was incredibly heavy. Despite exerting all her strength, the sword wouldn’t budge.

Just as she was about to call Muxi over, a fair and slender hand grasped the hilt, and with a flash of cold light, the sword was unsheathed.

Fu Zhixun examined the blade, his usually lazy expression turning more serious.

Ming Shu noticed his familiar and effortless grip on the sword, coupled with the display he had shown in the old madam’s courtyard. She was almost certain:

Fu Zhixun’s martial skill was unfathomably profound, and his weapon of choice was the blade.

“It's ordinary,” Fu Zhixun commented, then casually placed the sword on the table.

“Have you seen better treasure swords?” Ming Shu blurted out.

Fu Zhixun smirked, glancing at her: “No, I haven’t.”

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Ming Shu: “…” It’s really not easy to probe his depths.

Enough of that—time to get down to business.

She drew a talisman with cinnabar; after a while, sparks flickered on the paper.

She confirmed that the treasure sword was purifying the corpse qi within the zun vessel and finally felt somewhat relieved.

As for how to repair the seal… she had no idea for now.

Other than that silk painting, Ming Shu found no other antique retaining pure qi. Clearly, finding one lucky item didn’t guarantee a second or third.

* * *

Walking out of the west courtyard and passing through the central courtyard, faint sounds of weeping drifted from the inner courtyard, though too distant to hear clearly.

But behind the rockery, Ming Shu distinctly overheard two maids whispering.

“Do you think this time the master quarreled with the eldest miss because of the third young master’s arranged marriage?”

The eldest miss of the marquis’s household was the first daughter of the main branch. Two years ago, she had married the Third Prince of Ning and the Third Duke of Jun. For the current Dingyuan Marquisate, that was considered a prestigious match.

Recalling Yunxia’s warning from yesterday, Ming Shu had no intention of involving herself in the main branch’s affairs. But since they were talking about her, she couldn’t help but eavesdrop.

“Yes! The master said that princess is the crown prince’s chosen one. Now that she is married into the marquis’s household, it has become a thorn in the crown prince’s side, dragging the princely manor into trouble. The marquis went to the eastern palace recently, but the crown prince didn’t even see him.”

“That seems unlikely... maybe the crown prince just happened to be busy?”

“Whether or not, we servants don’t know. But the eldest miss has been in the princely manor two years without conceiving, and the master forbids taking concubines. The master is already resentful, and the third young master marrying a princess just added to the tension.”

“Ah, the marquis’s household is really in a strange state. Whether it’s madam or the young master and young lady, producing heirs is so difficult.”

…

“Still want to listen?” Fu Zhixun’s cold voice sounded.

Ming Shu, pondering over the words “the marquis’s household struggles with heirs,” was startled.

She nearly forgot Fu Zhixun was still nearby.

Putting aside her curiosity, she quickly walked away.

Back in the east courtyard, she thought for a moment and said to Fu Zhixun: “Having married into the marquis’s household, I will behave properly and never disgrace the family or my husband.”

Fu Zhixun sneered: “Even the maids know the crown prince has his eyes on you. Will behaving properly help?”

Ming Shu’s tone was serious: “It will. In this life, I will have no entanglements with the eastern palace. If my husband values reputation, I will find a way to clear this matter.”

Fu Zhixun raised an eyebrow: “Oh? What if the eastern palace targets the marquis’s household?”

Ming Shu smiled sweetly, a dimple appearing at the corner of her lips: “Whoever makes a move, I will strike back. Husband, I am no weak woman.”

She has killed before—it is not difficult.