Married to a Villainous Minister - Chapter 1

The tenth year of Taiyan Mingzheng’s reign, mid-May.

In Qingyu Village, just north of Changkui County, the weather was beginning to turn hot. The fields were lush, the wheat stalks heavy and bowing low, swollen with grain just waiting for the scorching June sun and the arrival of the summer solstice to ripen into golden harvest.

All throughout the village, families were busy preparing for the coming farming season. At the Yu household, they were weaving grain baskets from rattan. Old Madam Yu, after sorting the rattan beside her, glanced toward the eastern room and asked her third daughter-in-law, Zhao Xueru, “That one in the east room… still breathing? If she’s gone, tell Second Branch to roll her in an old mat and toss her up the mountain early. Don’t want her bad luck lingering in the house.”

Madam Zhao’s face twisted at the words. She let out a cold snort. “She’s got a tough life. I snuck a peek this morning, she’s still breathing. Not dead yet.”

She snapped a rattan stick in her hands and added through gritted teeth, “Thank goodness our Silang stayed clean and didn’t get caught up in the mess. If he had…”

She trailed off, still fuming. “Even if it was supposed to ward off bad luck, second sister-in-law never should’ve brought that filthy thing into our home. Nearly brought disaster on my son!”

A shadow passed over Old Madam Yu’s wrinkled face. Her voice was icy, “Alive or not, second branch can forget about keeping her.”

The first branch couple nearby kept their heads down, busy weaving. They dared not speak.

Inside the east room, Song Chun, the second daughter-in-law, had just finished feeding medicine to Yu Mengshan. After checking his injured leg for bleeding or infection, she let out a breath of relief, though worry still clouded her face.

Yu Mengshan wiped the corner of his mouth and handed her the cloth. “How’s the girl from the Meng family?”

Madam Song sighed. She glanced toward the inner room, worried their son might overhear, then lowered her voice. “Third brother beat her hard. Her legs are a bloody mess. Father locked her in the old shed and won’t let anyone near, not even to treat her wounds. The old lady said, once she stops breathing, they’ll wrap her in straw and dump her on the mountain.”

Yu Mengshan’s expression darkened. “That’s not right…” He broke off, coughing violently. Madam Song rushed to help him steady his breath.

Once he calmed, his voice was hoarse. “That’s not right at all. She’s a human being. She ended up like this because she was brought in to bless our second branch. No matter how you look at it…”

He sighed. “Go check on her. If she’s awake, give her something to eat. We can’t let her die.”

Madam Song hesitated. If Old Madam Yu found out, she’d explode again. But after a moment, she nodded. “Alright, I’ll go.”

Just then, a slender figure stepped out from the inner room. The dim light revealed a pale, refined face, handsome, but sickly from long-term illness.

“I’ll go,” the youth said softly. His voice was calm and clear, with the quiet elegance of a scholar.

Both Madam Song and Yu Mengshan were startled. Their son who hardly spoke and had shown no interest in the Meng girl was now offering to check on her?

Yu Mengshan recovered first. “Qizhe, good. Take her this.”

He pointed to a cornbread bun in a bowl by the bed, leftover from breakfast. Yu Qizhe walked over, picked up the bun, slipped it into his sleeve, and left the room. His steps were slow, but his back remained straight like a bamboo stalk in the wind.

Watching him go, Madam Song murmured, “Do you think Qizhe resents that Meng girl?”

Yu Mengshan shook his head. “No. He’s indifferent. He doesn’t feel anything for her so where would resentment come from?”

In the east courtyard, Yu Qizhe arrived at the old shed. Once used as a kitchen, it now served as storage for tools and firewood. He pushed open the wooden door, stirring up a thick cloud of dust. Frowning at the cobwebs, he waved his sleeve and ducked inside.

Yu Jiao had just regained consciousness. Her eyes felt crusted shut, and her whole body ached, especially her chest and legs, as if she’d been hit by a car. The ground was cold and hard, and the air stank of mold and straw.

Suddenly, light spilled into the shed. She forced her eyes open. A pale, delicate-looking boy stood framed in the doorway, his features clear and scholarly, his robe a deep blue with a crossed collar. She blinked, stunned.

What the hell? Am I dreaming?

Yu Qizhe noticed she was awake but said nothing. He pulled out the bun from his sleeve and held it out to her.

She stared at the rough, dark lump in his hand, barely recognizing it as food. She reached for it, but the movement tugged on something inside her chest. Pain shot through her side, and her face turned even paler.

Yu Qizhe bent slightly, placed the bun into her hand, then turned to leave.

Still dazed, lips cracked and dry, Yu Jiao instinctively called out to him, “Little brother… could I have some water?”

Yu Qizhe froze at the doorway. His face darkened ever so slightly. This woman, how shameless! He flicked his sleeve and left.

Yu Jiao stared after him, baffled. What’s his problem? All I did was ask for water…

She tried to sit up and gasped. Her ribs screamed with pain. Gently feeling around, she realized one might be cracked but not displaced, still treatable. But her legs… they felt like they’d been shattered.

She lifted her skirt and saw the blood-soaked fabric and ugly bruises, fresh wounds still oozing. Whoever did this hadn’t held back.

Cold sweat beaded on her forehead. She looked around the decrepit shed, the old tools, the leaky roof, the straw mat beneath her, and the old-fashioned clothes on her body.

What kind of ridiculous dream is this?

She shut her eyes again, hoping when she woke, she’d be back in her warm bed. Hopefully pain-free.

Outside, Yu Qizhe had just left the shed when Madam Zhao and Old Madam Yu spotted him.

“Is she dead yet?” the old lady called.

“Not yet,” Yu Qizhe replied calmly. Then he walked to the kitchen, scooped up a bowl of water from the barrel, and started heading back.

Old Madam Yu scowled. “Fifth boy! Dump that water!”