Chapter Twelve: This Lady Is Not to Be Trifled With!

Crisp autumn air, invigorating breezes.

On such a morning, practicing a few sets of Tai Chi to loosen up the body was a delight for Han Fu.

Provided, of course, that no one spat on him.

His good mood was ruined, but considering it was a child—and the eldest grandson of Zhou Xinyi—Han Fu restrained his anger.

He couldn't afford to offend; after all, he was still living under someone else's roof.

He smiled gently, reaching out to pat Zhou Qing's head, but the boy dodged.

The little fellow stiffened his neck, his expression as if to say: "Come on, hit me if you dare."

Han Fu, having lived two lifetimes, would never stoop to argue with a child.

He smiled again, drew three copper coins from his pocket, and held them before Zhou Qing, speaking softly: "First meeting and already daring to spit on me—such courage deserves reward. Here."

These were the coins he had taken from the Qin residence, his only savings.

It could be said that had he not moved into the Zhou household yesterday, he might have found himself destitute on the streets by now.

The child, young as he was, recognized money.

Zhou Qing's eyes widened in undisguised delight; he snatched the coins quickly, clutching them to his chest, fearing Han Fu might take them back.

The dignified grandson of a duke, so thrilled over three coins... Han Fu wasn't surprised. He could see Zhou Qing had no concept of value—he simply liked money.

Five-year-old Zhou Qing never imagined that spitting on someone could earn a reward. It was a secret he'd just discovered, a door to a new world.

"Ptui..." He spat again.

Han Fu was out of coins... He shook his head and said, "Only the first time gets a reward—there won’t be any more."

Zhou Qing looked rather disappointed.

"Young master, I... Oh! Little lord, why are you here?" Ping’er, carrying a wash basin, exclaimed in surprise, hurriedly set it down, and rushed over.

Han Fu didn't mention the spitting incident. He smiled and said, "Early morning, no one watching, and here he is. Take him back."

"Alright." Ping’er nodded, took Zhou Qing’s small hand, and coaxed gently, "Little lord, come with me now. If the eldest young master waits too long, you’ll be punished."

Zhou Qing was terrified and nodded vigorously.

Ping’er added to Han Fu, "Young master, once I return, I’ll help you wash up."

"No need," Han Fu shook his head. Such a small matter didn’t warrant troubling Ping’er. He pointed to the basin, "I can manage myself; you take him back first."

Returning Zhou Qing was important—if the East Wing couldn’t find him, there’d be panic. Ping’er said no more and left with Zhou Qing.

---

Han Fu carried the basin inside and washed up, his mind never idle.

Being spat on by Zhou Qing hadn't truly spoiled his mood; rather, it revealed the Zhou family's attitude toward him.

Not all, but enough to glimpse the truth.

Zhou Qing, a child, could hardly understand much. He repeated what the adults said.

Others aside, the eldest son’s branch in the East Wing clearly viewed Han Fu with disdain, even mentioning him in Zhou Qing’s presence.

Thus, Zhou Qing sneaked to the West Wing at dawn to spit on him.

Thinking it over, it wasn’t surprising. Han Fu’s arrival had disrupted the Zhou-Qin marriage plot, and now he entered the household without dignity.

As for the attitudes of other Zhou family members, he needed more observation.

Ah... Bai Li Mingda was overly friendly, but skilled in physiognomy. He probably saw something. Han Fu would have to remain vigilant, lest his rebellion die before it began because of Bai Li Mingda.

This man must be watched.

Even now, Bai Li Mingda seemed well-disposed toward him, but people are fickle.

After washing, Han Fu found he had no clean clothes... His predecessor owned nothing.

Helpless, he could only wait quietly.

He didn’t wait long. Ping’er returned with a tray of food, and upon seeing him, she exclaimed, "Young master, didn’t I say I’d help you wash up? How could you..."

"It’s nothing; no trouble at all," Han Fu replied with a gentle smile.

"But it’s a servant’s duty," Ping’er protested. "Young master, please don’t do this again. If word gets out, people will say I disrespect you. After all, you..."

She stopped, but Han Fu understood.

He was a son-in-law, a role reserved for men of no ability or pride—naturally looked down upon.

Yet, even as a son-in-law, he was still the Zhou family’s guest. His status was far above that of a servant.

If today's matter got out, outsiders would believe that even the servants in the grand Zhou household scorned him—a reversal of the natural order.

Damn the feudal society, damn the class system... Living here meant adapting, not trying to change it.

Moreover, since yesterday, Ping’er had not despised him for being a son-in-law.

On the contrary, she was quite warm.

The little maid was simple-minded, sometimes slow to react. Yet she knew she was Bai Li Mingsu’s personal attendant, and Han Fu would be Bai Li Mingsu’s husband.

No matter how the Zhou and Qin families schemed before, Han Fu would be, besides Bai Li Mingsu, the person closest to her in the future.

---

"Alright," Han Fu nodded, not wanting to cause Ping’er trouble. He added, "My clothes are dirty. Please find me something clean to wear."

He didn’t specify why, nor did he need to.

"Of course." Ping’er’s smile bloomed on her delicate oval face, pure yet radiant.

She set the tray down and said, "Young master, please have breakfast first. Aunt Song will soon come to measure you for your wedding robes. Madam wishes to see you as well—you must go this morning."

With that, she turned and left.

Madam?

Han Fu frowned slightly.

He cared little about wedding robes—just part of the marriage routine.

But this Madam—the legitimate wife of Zhou Xinyi... What was her attitude? What did she want?

Know yourself, know your enemy... Han Fu felt he needed to learn more before meeting her, but couldn’t ask directly. To the Zhou family, he was still an outsider.

Thinking this over, Han Fu sat.

Breakfast was simple yet plentiful.

A bowl of thick porridge, a dish of pickles, and a plate of chicken.

Han Fu picked up his chopsticks, about to eat.

"Brother-in-law?" Bai Li Mingda’s round head poked through the door, then his body followed.

"Ha ha..." Carrying his own tray, he sat beside Han Fu, his smile so broad it distorted his face. "Let’s eat together—it tastes better with company."

He was like a lingering ghost, but his timing was perfect.

Still, caution was warranted; this man had real abilities... Han Fu smiled, "Alright."

After a while, Han Fu casually asked, "Once Aunt Song has measured me for my wedding robes, I’ll go see Madam. Will you come?"

"Mother-in-law?" Bai Li Mingda paused, then shook his head vigorously, "I’d rather not. She didn’t call for me—go on your own, brother-in-law."

That was fear, pure and instinctive... Seeing Bai Li Mingda’s reaction, Han Fu’s heart grew heavier.

This Madam was no gentle soul.

Recalling the East Wing’s attitude, Han Fu resolved to proceed with caution.