A Tale of Golden Heiress: Lady Wanjin - Chapter 33

Wen Wan’s bedroom had been cleaned and tidied, the small courtyard filled with peonies, orchids, and other flowers whose fragrance was intoxicating. The servants had been busy all day. Wen Wan had ordered that each receive an extra half-string of cash, along with some fruit and sweets, and told them to rest early. Thus, as the moon climbed the branches, the entire residence gradually grew quiet.

Tonight, the red lanterns of the estate would remain lit all night long.

As Wen Wan walked, she saw the double happiness character “囍” everywhere.

Zhao Heng was already waiting for her.

The groom seemed a little drunk. His face was flushed, his eyes slightly closed as he reclined half-lying on the chaise lounge she usually loved.

Because the weather was hot, he had undone the frog fastenings at his collar, leaving his neck open to cool down.

In the lamplight, his jade-like face and fair skin, combined with his languid posture, held a unique charm.

He was her SD doll.

A limited-edition SD doll with an eight-pack.

Wen Wan entered the room on light feet, but still managed to wake him. Zhao Heng sat up, staring dazedly at the young woman dressed in bright red. “You’re back, my wife? Have all matters been settled?”

“Some were tricky. I’ll need to discuss them with Father tomorrow.” Though she said this, no trace of worry showed on her face.

Zhao Heng noticed that no matter how big the problem, Wen Wan never sighed or complained in front of him.

This young lady never seemed to need to rely on him to make decisions.

She walked into the room, washed her hands, and then sat down beside him. The table was laden with melons, fruits, pastries, and fine wine. Wen Wan picked up an orange, but Zhao Heng took it from her hand.

Wen Wan smiled, her gaze resting on Zhao Heng’s face. “Did those creditors scare you today?”

As he peeled the orange for her, Zhao Heng chatted idly. “I’m not made of porcelain. I’m not that easily frightened.”

Wen Wan laughed softly, but then caught the scent of alcohol on him. “How much did you drink? Are you still clear-headed? The Wen clansmen aren’t easy to deal with.”

“Not much. Father felt sorry for me. Early on, he had someone dilute half the wine in my jug with water, and found a couple of distant cousins with a great capacity for liquor to accompany me. I couldn’t come to harm.”

As Zhao Heng spoke of this, he couldn’t help but smile.

Old Master Wen… usually didn’t give him a friendly look, always putting him in his place and reminding him of his live-in son-in-law status. Yet, at critical moments, he would protect him too.

Was this what family was like?
Arguing and fighting behind closed doors, but having to present a united front to the outside world.

While talking, Zhao Heng had finished peeling the orange and handed it to Wen Wan.

But Wen Wan shook her head.

The young woman leaned close to him, smiling mischievously, her tone half-teasing, half-admonishing. “When peeling an orange for a young lady… you must remove the white pith, you know.”

The night breeze gently brushed past.

Zhao Heng’s heart was also gently stirred.

“Alright.” Zhao Heng agreed without hesitation and began using his long, slender fingers to carefully remove the strands of white pith from the orange. Only after he had peeled it completely clean did he split it in half and offer it to her.

Wen Wan curved her lips, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Feed me.”

Zhao Heng was taken aback, seemingly unprepared for such boldness.

But then he thought, they were husband and wife now. Intimacy between a couple was only natural.

In this regard, he was not as forward as Wen Wan.

“Alright.” Zhao Heng broke off a segment of the orange and brought it to Wen Wan’s lips. Wen Wan chewed while staring at him, her eyes seeming to be soaked in honey. “So sweet.”

Then, she deliberately lowered her voice and added, “I’m talking about you, husband.”

Just say it. Romance dramas do have their uses after all.

To win over her figurine, she had poured all her lifelong learning into it.

Ah, wait—she’s not a man, so why was she putting on that bubbly voice?

What a blunder.

She should have used a cute, high-pitched voice and called him “brother” instead.

But Zhao Heng was already flushed and flustered by her advances. He pretended to lower his head. Before the two of them lay a pair of gourd ladles connected by a red thread, filled earlier by Old Man Wen himself—this was the wedding night’s Nuptial Wine Ceremony.

The “gourd ladle,” known as jǐn, was a type of bitter-tasting calabash, inedible due to its flavor. The gourd was cut into two ladles, connected by a thread tied to their handles. The bride and groom each held one and drank from it. Sharing the jǐn symbolized their union in marriage. The sweet wine poured into the two bitter ladles represented the couple’s vow to share life’s joys and hardships from that day forward.

“My lady, the Nuptial Wine…”

“Oh, right.”

Wen Wan was thirsty. She grabbed her ladle and, without waiting for Zhao Heng, raised it to her lips and drank it all in one go.

It turned out to be sweet rice wine.

Wen Wan exclaimed in delight and urged Zhao Heng, “More! It quenches thirst!”

Zhao Heng smiled slightly and refilled her cup from the wine pot. “This wine tastes sweet and refreshing, but it has a strong aftereffect. My lady, don’t overindulge and miss tonight’s main event.”

At the mention of the “main event,” Wen Wan snapped back to reality.

Right.

The baby-making plan!

Only by producing an heir could she kick this guy to the curb and live out her days as a wealthy, albeit lonely, lady.

“I’m all sweaty. I’ll take a bath first.”

As she moved, the pearl attached to the sachet at her waist jingled softly.

Seemingly noticing Zhao Heng’s gaze, Wen Wan glanced down and smiled. “Since you’ve given this to me, husband, don’t think about taking it back.”

Zhao Heng, with his robes half undone, narrowed his eyes and smiled. “Since it’s yours, it’s yours to keep.”

Wen Wan patted the sachet. “Don’t worry, I’ll carry it with me every day from now on. Just as if you were by my side every day.”

A sense of ceremony was still necessary.

Just as Wen Wan was about to call for hot water, Zhao Heng stopped her. “I’ve already prepared hot water for you behind the screen. The temperature should be just right now. Go ahead and wash up.”

Wen Wan praised him sincerely, “Husband, you’re so thoughtful.”

Zhao Heng grinned. “As a live-in son-in-law, I must take good care of my wife’s daily needs.”

Yet his tone carried no self-pity—instead, it held a hint of teasing.

“Don’t listen to my father,” Wen Wan said, unusually serious. “Behind closed doors, it’s just the two of us living our lives. There’s no hierarchy—only mutual respect. I just hope you can live freely and happily during your time in the Wen family.”

Before Zhao Heng could ponder the deeper meaning of “during your time in the Wen family,” Wen Wan tossed him a book. “I’m going to wash up. You study this book first—it’s about how to promote harmony between husband and wife. There’s profound knowledge inside; it’s essential reading for newlyweds.”

On their wedding night… studying scholarly works…?

His wife… certainly had unique preferences.

However, when Zhao Heng turned the book over and saw the title The Ode of Joyful Yin-Yang Union on the cover, his expression strained.

Promoting harmony between husband and wife?

Essential reading for newlyweds?

Well… it wasn’t entirely wrong?

When he looked up again, she had already gone behind the screen to bathe. Separated by the paper-painted screen, the sound of flowing water reached his ears, and the slender figure of the beauty was faintly visible. As he looked again at the images of entangled lovers in the book, Zhao Heng’s face… finally flushed uncontrollably to the tips of his ears.

He flipped through a couple of pages.

The blood no longer rushed to his head.

It began to flow downward.

Until it all gathered in a certain place.

The summer night’s breeze grew increasingly restless, stirring an itch deep within one’s heart.

Yet, the more restless and heated he felt, the more his senses sharpened. Even through the screen, Zhao Heng could vividly imagine what Wen Wan was doing at that moment.