Becoming the Cannon Fodder Wife of Crazy and Powerful Official - Chapter 14

The Lame Horse patted his withered right leg, “This leg of mine was born missing a few bones inside. Don’t let the limp fool you—I specialize in mending bones!”

He was clearly worried Xin Yueying would doubt his skills because of his disability.

Xin Yueying nodded eagerly, “I know! That’s why my family recommended you. Everyone says your medical skills are exceptional.” She grinned at Lame Horse, then glanced toward the old locust tree, “Don’t worry about that woman. She won’t keep handing out free meals forever—it’s just a tactic to win people over. In the long run, real skill speaks louder.”

Lame Horse’s eyes lit up. He set his leg down and leaned forward, “Madam! May I ask your name?”

“I’m Xin. Just call me Fourth Wife.”

He thumped his chest, “Madam Xin! Your husband’s condition—leave it to me!” Spotting the silver in her hand, he waved it off, “I’ll take the lard jar as payment for today’s consultation. But the money…?”

Pausing dramatically, he declared, “Not a single coin until he’s cured!”

Xin Yueying smiled, “Thank you. I’ll return soon—three days at the earliest, ten at the latest.”

Her words carried a subtle warning: Don’t go poisoning anyone in the meantime.

Lame Horse nodded fervently, “I’ll wait for you!” As if that wasn’t emphatic enough, he took a deep breath and added, “Even if the seas run dry and the rocks crumble—I’ll wait!”

Xin Yueying shuddered. Forcing an awkward smile, she waved goodbye.

Who’d have thought? The first person to ever swear an oath of “eternal devotion” to her… was Old Horse.

And frankly, the man seemed just as unhinged as Shen Qingqi—just in a louder, more exuberant way.

Absolutely terrifying.

Since she was already out, Xin Yueying stopped by Carpenter Yang’s workshop to order a new front door. To her surprise:

• Yang refused payment, insisting it was his pleasure.
• She casually mentioned needing a table—he threw in two chairs for free.

Shen Qingqi was right. This “debt” was definitely a losing deal.

She returned home without pausing to rest, rolling up her sleeves and heading straight to the kitchen to cook. Huo Qi followed, playing the role of her assistant.

As the lard melted in the wok, fragrant smoke curled upward. She tossed in a handful of scallions—a sizzling burst of aroma—then added the sliced cured pork, stir-frying briskly before pouring in a bowl of water.

A miscalculation. Too much water.

Blinking against the steam, she barked at Huo Qi, who was squatting by the stove, “More firewood! Quick!”

“Uh—right!” He fed the flames, then hesitated. “We’re almost out. I’ll go chop more—”

“Don’t you dare leave!” She waved the spatula, “I can’t watch the food AND the fire alone!” Glancing up, she spotted Shen Qingqi sitting in the yard, observing them.

“You—chop wood!” She pointed to the logs by the stump. “Lots of it.”

Huo Qi froze, “Our Second Master has never—!” He tried to stand, but Xin Yueying shoved him back down. “He’ll learn.”

“He’s disabled!” Huo Qi hissed, his face flushing crimson.

She shrugged, stirring the vegetables, “He’s using his hands to chop, not his feet.”

No one wants to be treated as a helpless invalid.
Least of all, a man like Shen Qingqi.

Sure enough, he picked up the axe. Silent. Precise.
Split logs piled on his lap as he wheeled himself forward, “What else?”

“Peel garlic. Two bulbs—for the fish stew later.” She tossed him a braid of hanging garlic.

Huo Qi muttered darkly, feeding the fire, “Quite the privilege—one person working, two serving as your lackeys!”

Xin Yueying grinned, “Oh, it gets better. After dinner, you’re helping me build a wheelchair. Delivery to Carpenter Yang tomorrow.”

“WHAT?!” Huo Qi dropped the firewood. “Why can’t YOU do it?”

“Too busy.”

“I don’t know how!”

“Then learn.”

Huo Qi turned pleading eyes to Shen Qingqi—begging for justice.

Shen Qingqi didn’t look up from the garlic, “I’ll assist too.”

Huo Qi: “……”

By the time dinner was ready, the moon hung high, its glow painting the courtyard in silver. The spring breeze carried no chill—only the scent of braised fish and stir-fried greens.

On a whim, Xin Yueying hauled Old Yang’s gifted table outside.

At its center: a crimson-glazed carp, surrounded by dishes that shimmered under the stars. Even the bowls were new—no more chipped porcelain.

She lifted the curtain to check on the man inside—still unconscious—then picked up the untouched wine jug from Shen Qingqi’s bedside table with a grin, “No luck for you today.”

Stepping out, she set the wine on the table, uncorked it, and poured three cups. Raising hers, she beamed, “Cheers to teamwork today! Here’s to keeping this up!”

Two other hands reached for their cups. Huo Qi feigned sternness, “Keeping it up? Wishful thinking.” But his lips twitched with suppressed laughter.

Even Shen Qingqi’s eyes, usually dull, held a flicker of light.

Just as their cups clinked—

“Brother Shen!”

A woman’s voice cut through the moment. All three turned to see Meng Ruxin approaching, her face half-veiled in gauze, one hand delicately clasping her shoulder. The picture of fragile beauty.

Xin Yueying studied her coldly. Objectively, Meng Ruxin was striking—the drifting veil lending her a “peekaboo” allure. Her gaze slid to Shen Qingqi. He’d set down his cup, watching Meng Ruxin too.

Xin Yueying downed her wine in one gulp, eyes sharp as blades.

Meng Ruxin swayed like a willow in the wind, the kind of woman who ignited men’s protectiveness. Stumbling to Shen Qingqi’s side, she knelt, eyes brimming with tears, “You finally left the courtyard! You’ve… you’ve accepted reality, haven’t you?” Her voice trembled. “You listened to what I said that day!”

Thud. Xin Yueying slammed her chopsticks down, plucked a peanut, and crunched it loudly. Her gaze locked onto Shen Qingqi, dissecting his every micro-expression.