Chapter 9: You Have a Home in Jiangzhou?
Qin Yan pulled away.
Cheng Tianxun blinked.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm not in the mood today," Qin Yan said.
Cheng Tianxun looked at her. "Because I didn't remember your name?"
"Yes," Qin Yan said. "Every time you come home, I have the maids change the sheets and prepare a late-night meal. When you go out, I have them wash and fold your clothes.
We didn't marry for love, but I treat you as my husband and do my duty. Do you treat me as your wife?"
"Of course," Cheng Tianxun said.
In a year of marriage, there had been plenty of social functions where beauties were delivered right to his side—he hadn't touched them, hadn't even glanced their way.
He knew he ate well at home. No need to go fishing outside.
Qin Yan was his wife.
She was a good wife, truth be told—no drama, no fuss. Cheng Tianxun didn't need to expend much thought on her, and so he rarely found the time to think of her at all.
The past half month had been too busy. The meeting just now had left his skull throbbing. That he'd momentarily forgotten her name was his fault.
"...I'll try not to forget next time," Cheng Tianxun said. "Get some rest early."
It was already past one in the morning.
He turned and went to the guest room.
Cheng Tianxun wouldn't force himself on anyone. A young man with a strong constitution, and he'd been abstinent for half a month. After taking care of himself, he went to sleep.
He wanted to think about Qin Yan.
But his thoughts drifted back to military affairs on their own.
"The defenses at Su City need strengthening. The royalist faction has infiltrated the governor's office—is the governor playing dumb, or does he truly not know?"
"Grandfather will be back soon, won't he? Those useless fools in the South City cabinet actually tried to ally with the Du family. And the presidential office is a pile of rubble."
"The eldest and third brothers are all eating from the same trough while stabbing us in the back, yet the governor trusts them both."
Thinking and thinking, he slowly drifted into sleep.
Before sleeping, he was still thinking—it seemed like there was something he'd forgotten.
The next morning, after a hurried half-hour of drills, Cheng Tianxun rinsed off with cold water and headed to the governor's office.
He had completely forgotten about last night in the master bedroom.
When Qin Yan got up, she too had put last night's matter behind her. She needed to hurry to the newspaper office.
"...Call all the chief editors into the conference room. I want to hold a short meeting," Qin Yan instructed the secretary.
Ling Manyun acknowledged and went to relay the order.
By the time she came back up, the coffee was ready, and she handed it to Qin Yan.
With a capable assistant like Ling Manyun, Qin Yan got twice the results with half the effort.
"Calling a meeting first thing in the morning isn't like you. Did something happen?" Ling Manyun asked.
Qin Yan took a sip of coffee. "Last night on my way back, someone was following me. It was Du Zhuojun's younger brother."
Ling Manyun's expression shifted slightly.
"Were you hurt?"
"No. I want to remind the chief editors to stay alert. Du Zhuojun appears to be a socialite and has the recognition of the cultural circles, but behind the scenes she's more vicious than the old warlords. I'm afraid she'll send someone to assassinate the chief editors," Qin Yan said.
Ling Manyun: "Losing makes her furious. Once our morning edition launches, Du Zhuojun will probably be even more enraged. Your concern is well-founded."
"Spread the word," Qin Yan said. "If anything happens to our chief editors, it'll be the South City Daily's doing. Let's see how public opinion turns against her then."
Ling Manyun understood.
Qin Yan finished her coffee and went downstairs.
She told the chief editors what she had discussed with Ling Manyun.
The sharp-tongued chief editors knew well the risk of assassination.
Only because they had the Young Marshal's wife backing them did they dare to wield their pens so freely.
"About last night's 'assassination' attempt on me—write some pieces first, expose the matter," Qin Yan said.
The chief editors acknowledged.
That day, the evening edition of the Vernacular Times published the articles.
They practically named Du Zhuojun and the South City Daily by name.
After Qin Yan finished proofreading, she personally delivered it to the printing factory before heading home.
After dinner, she called her mother-in-law.
"...Has the Du family's young master been released?" she asked.
The Governor's Wife: "I haven't heard about it. I'll send someone to ask and have the adjutant call you back."
Then, with some displeasure: "For such a small matter, you shouldn't be asking me. I'm not that free."
"Sorry, Mother. I didn't know who else to ask," Qin Yan said.
The Governor's Wife hung up.
Her attitude was cold, but half an hour later, her chief adjutant called Qin Yan back.
"Yesterday the Young Marshal arrested a man, saying he attempted to murder the Young Marshal's wife. He's locked up in the military government's prison—it's the Du family's ninth young master, Du Chengjun.
His crime must be adjudicated by law. Chief Du sent someone to smooth things over, but they were turned back. However, since your car was unharmed and two of the Du family's attendants died, this case will likely fizzle out," the chief adjutant said.
Qin Yan: "Please thank the Madam for me, and thank you too, Chief Adjutant. I don't insist on convicting him—I just needed to confirm it was the Du family."
She hung up.
At nine that evening, Cheng Tianxun returned.
Qin Yan sat in the downstairs sofa reading the newspaper. She seemed to be pondering, or perhaps just spacing out.
Cheng Tianxun gave a light cough.
When she raised her eyes, he called out: "Qin Yan."
Solemnly.
Qin Yan stood up. "The Young Marshal is back. Have you had dinner?"
"I have," he said.
He brought out a bouquet from behind his back and handed it to her. "For you, Qin Yan."
Qin Yan: "..."
Six white roses, blooming with crisp elegance, their fragrance rich—beautiful to look at and lovely to smell.
Qin Yan was a little surprised.
"Thank you," she said.
Cheng Tianxun went upstairs first.
Qin Yan assumed he was going to the third floor for a meeting. She had a maid find her a vase, put the roses in it, and carried it up to the master bedroom on the second floor herself.
She heard water running in the bathroom.
Cheng Tianxun hadn't gone to the third floor.
Qin Yan set the vase on the nightstand, turned to find her sleepwear, and went to the guest bathroom to wash up.
By the time she finished and came back, Cheng Tianxun had already come out of the bathroom.
He wore only sleep pants, his chest showing clearly defined muscle. Wheat-colored skin, broad shoulders, the lines running downward and tightening abruptly at the waist.
A pleasure to look at.
Qin Yan didn't mind sleeping with him.
Cheng Tianxun wasn't an unpleasant man. While enjoying himself, he also looked after Qin Yan. Every time he came back to the room, he would conscientiously wash up without Qin Yan having to urge him.
When she refused his advances, he never showed the slightest annoyance, let alone pestered her.
As Qin Yan was thinking this, he walked over, picked her up, and laid her on the bed.
She wanted to say something, but he sealed her lips: "Qin Yan. I remember."
Qin Yan: "..."
She hadn't wanted to bring up last night's little quarrel.
She wanted to say that this bed, like the previous two, was Western furniture. Although she'd instructed the merchant to specially reinforce the legs, whether it could withstand Cheng Tianxun's exertions was hard to say.
She wanted to go to the guest room, or do it somewhere else. Otherwise, no bed to sleep in again.
But she never got the chance to say it.
Cheng Tianxun's storm swept her away.
Afterward, Qin Yan went to shower. When she came back, Cheng Tianxun was no longer in the room. People were going up to the third floor in twos and threes—he probably still had matters to attend to.
Qin Yan had wanted to ask him about Du Zhuojun's younger brother, but never got the chance.
She was truly exhausted and fell asleep first.