Chapter Eight: Willingly Falling, We'll Talk About It Later

For three to five breaths, everyone remained stunned by the words “marriage by joining the bride’s family.”

Qin Ping’s expression was enigmatic, a hint of mockery on his lips; the darkness that had clouded him instantly vanished.

His gaze swept over the slightly dazed Zhou Xinyi, inwardly gloating.

If Han Fu became a son-in-law living with his wife’s family, it would bring no benefit to the Qin clan, but for the Zhou family, all their hopes would be shattered.

He finally felt his pent-up frustration dissipate.

A son-in-law of this sort was ranked alongside disgraced officials, fugitives, and merchants—at the very bottom of society, scorned and despised, unable to hold office or enter government service.

The ancient texts said: “Such a son-in-law is the husband of the woman, regarded as her child, like a wart on a person—an unwanted remnant!”

With this act, Emperor Xiaokang had cast Han Fu into the abyss; no matter how talented, he could never rise again.

“How could this be, how could this be…” Liu Shilin trembled, fists clenched, eyes rimmed with red, as if suffering the greatest humiliation.

Though this matter had nothing to do with him, he sympathized as a fellow scholar.

To a man, entering one’s wife’s family was akin to breaking one’s backbone and shattering one’s dignity.

Today’s events left him with a sense of regret for meeting Han Fu too late; seeing him suffer such a fate was hard to accept.

If things stayed this way, the two would never cross paths again.

Scholars have their pride and are ashamed to associate with such a son-in-law, no matter how learned; the gap in status could never be bridged.

Zhou Xinyi felt even more anxious, sweat beading on his forehead, bitterness rising in his heart, thoughts spinning endlessly.

If Han Fu were to join his wife’s family, all the plans he had made would turn to dust and vanish.

At this, he hastily spoke: “Your Majesty’s favor is overwhelming, your servant is deeply honored—but…”

He paused deliberately, then continued, “Entering the Zhou family in this manner concerns dignity. I believe Han Fu himself should be asked whether he is willing.”

“Oh?” Wang De’s tone stretched, and he smiled at Han Fu, as if seeking his opinion.

The emperor’s decree could not be overturned.

Han Fu understood this well, so he smiled and said, “I thank Your Majesty for your great favor. To tell the truth, I came to Dingxing seeking a place to settle down. If I were to join my wife’s family, I would live in comfort, with food and clothing provided—that is indeed what I wish for, though I dared not hope.”

“Ah…”

When Han Fu finished speaking, the whole audience was shocked, staring in disbelief.

Was there truly someone so shameless in the world?

To become a son-in-law living with his wife’s family meant a lifetime of inferiority.

He had abandoned his dignity so decisively—did he not feel shame?

Of course, some sharp-eyed observers noticed something else in Han Fu’s words: his breaking off the engagement with the Qin family three days ago was not as simple as it appeared, but had a hidden story.

Yet whatever the truth, no one cared anymore.

Qin Ping blinked, thinking he must have misheard.

Zhou Xinyi shook his head and smiled wryly, helpless.

He knew well the emperor’s decree could not be resisted; his earlier attempt was merely to see if there was any room for negotiation.

Who would have thought… He looked deeply at Han Fu, thinking, “Couldn’t you at least pretend to resist? Even a token protest would do.”

“This…this…” Liu Shilin was struck as if by lightning, as if the backbone of scholarhood he revered had been shattered before his eyes.

He had hoped Han Fu would refuse, would rather die than submit, perhaps even compose a stirring poem to declare his resolve.

But Han Fu agreed so readily, as if he felt no burden at all.

Shameless, willingly fallen—an embarrassment to scholars!

It was as if one’s wife became a prostitute, or one’s sister became a courtesan.

“Hmph…no backbone at all, I am ashamed to know him.” Furious, he turned and left, his sleeves billowing.

His companions, equally indignant, followed suit, casting a final look at Han Fu, full of regret.

“Hahaha…” Wang De laughed heartily, his gaze full of appreciation. “Young Master Han is truly open-hearted and admirable.”

Han Fu clasped his hands and smiled in return.

Wang De then looked to Zhou Xinyi, his eyes half-lidded, tone indifferent: “The emperor’s marriage decree is a great honor. Who in your position could refuse?”

“I obey the decree,” Zhou Xinyi replied, resigned and unwilling.

“Very well.” Wang De, calm as ever, spoke leisurely: “I have delivered the emperor’s command. According to custom, today you should let this young man move into your mansion.”

Compared to a traditional wedding, the process for joining the bride’s family was simpler: the man moved into the woman’s home ahead of time, the woman stayed elsewhere for two days, then on the wedding day, the bridal procession would depart from the woman’s home, bringing her back in the bridal sedan, skipping all the elaborate ceremonies.

Of course, if the woman wished for a grand celebration, it could be festive with drums, firecrackers, banners, and crowds.

It all depended on the woman’s wishes; the man had no say.

Wang De and four young eunuchs departed, and the tournament drew to a close.

Han Fu had claimed the championship without suspense; the only point of contention was the emperor’s sudden change in marriage arrangements.

But since it involved the emperor, no one dared discuss it privately.

“Brother Zhou, I’ll take my leave,” Qin Ping said, now somewhat comforted, less displeased than before, but unwilling to linger further.

“I’ll see you out.” Zhou Xinyi clearly had more to say; he turned to give instructions, then left with Qin Ping: “Go and bring the prospective son-in-law into the mansion and settle him in.”

The steward, Zhou Hai, a man in his fifties with graying beard and a thin frame, always followed Zhou Xinyi. Hearing the order, he nodded: “Yes.”

“No need, leave it to me…” Bai Li Mingda dashed out from the mansion, clambered onto the stage, and ran laughing toward Han Fu.

“Haha…my good brother-in-law!”

He gave Han Fu a hearty embrace, leaving him a bit at a loss.

This man was…far too enthusiastic.

Han Fu guessed his identity, but still asked, “And you are?”

He tried to extricate himself from Bai Li Mingda’s hug, but Bai Li Mingda misunderstood, thinking Han Fu was uncomfortable and tightened his embrace.

“I’m Ming Su’s brother, and from now on, I’m your brother too. We’re family, don’t be distant,” Bai Li Mingda said, giving Han Fu’s back a hearty pat before releasing him, hands resting on Han Fu’s shoulders as he examined him, muttering, “I was right—haha, good brother-in-law.”

With that, he gave another bear hug: “If anyone bullies you, just mention my name. Your brother has your back.”

At this moment, Bai Li Mingda was overjoyed.

He’d thought his sister was sacrificing her happiness for the Zhou family's future, but unexpectedly, they’d stumbled upon a treasure.

Zhou and Qin had not gone far; seeing this, Qin Ping teased, “This kid is very satisfied with Han Fu.”

Not just them—many onlookers lingered, watching with strange expressions.

Zhou Xinyi’s beard bristled with indignation. He barked, “Back to the mansion, now!”

“Yes, yes…right away.” Facing his uncle, who had raised him, Bai Li Mingda dared not argue, quickly dragging Han Fu off the stage, chattering away with exuberant warmth.

—

“I heard the emperor ordered you to join the bride’s family, and my sister just left by the back gate to stay in the side residence for a few days.”

“But brother-in-law, don’t be impatient—you’ll see her on your wedding day.”

“Brother-in-law, let me tell you, Ming Su is stunningly beautiful.”

“I’ll keep you company these days; if you need anything, just say so. We’re family, don’t be shy.”

“Brother-in-law, though the emperor made you a son-in-law, I won’t look down on you. Don’t take it to heart—it’s the emperor’s will, nothing to do with me or my sister.”

“After you marry, you and my sister needn’t worry about anything—just have a chubby son.”

“Don’t let your new status discourage you. As the saying goes…heroes aren’t defined by their origins, nor ambition by age. I believe in you…”

From the moment they left the stage and entered the Zhou mansion, Bai Li Mingda never stopped talking. Han Fu found it tiresome but responded with a polite smile.

When he heard that last remark, Han Fu was puzzled.

After a moment’s thought, Han Fu replied with a smile, “I entered the tournament today just to secure food and shelter. Now I’ll be a son-in-law whom everyone looks down on—what ambition could I have? Brother, you’re joking.”

“We’ll see, we’ll see,” Bai Li Mingda replied, raising his eyebrows with a hint of slyness.

Han Fu did not know how to respond, nor what Bai Li Mingda meant by “we’ll see.”

Following Bai Li Mingda through winding corridors, Han Fu was surprised to find that every servant they encountered in the mansion looked at them with disbelief, as though unable to trust their eyes.

Why was this?

Han Fu was perplexed. Given his victory in the tournament and his impending marriage to Bai Li Ming Su, the household should already know—so their expressions must have another source. Apparently, it all stemmed from Bai Li Mingda’s excessive enthusiasm.

Han Fu did not realize that Bai Li Mingda was usually aloof, acting like a hermit above mortal concerns, reluctant to interact with ordinary people…so his current warmth was shocking. Some even mistook Han Fu for one of Bai Li Mingda’s fellow cultivators.

The Zhou mansion was vast; the front courtyard housed the servants, while the family resided in the back.

According to Bai Li Mingda, the rear courtyard had seven separate residences.

Zhou Xinyi and his wife lived in the central residence; three lay to the east, three to the west. Zhou Xinyi’s sons, Zhou Yuan Shan and Zhou Yuan Tu, lived in the east wing, leaving one room vacant.

Bai Li Mingda and Bai Li Ming Su occupied the west wing, also leaving a room empty.

That vacant residence now belonged to Han Fu.

The residence comprised three rooms.

The main room’s door stood open, and a petite figure moved about inside, diligently cleaning.

“That’s Ping’er, Ming Su’s personal maid. She grew up with Ming Su, and now she’ll be your maid, too. If Ming Su’s ever unwell, you can have her accompany you at night,” Bai Li Mingda said, though his words were a little…much.

Ping’er’s round face blushed scarlet.

Such an unruly brother-in-law—Han Fu had never seen the like in any life. He protested, “I am a son-in-law.”

A son-in-law could not take concubines or flirt with other women…

“So what? So what?” Bai Li Mingda reacted strongly, glaring. “You may be a son-in-law, but you’re different from others. I’ll talk to Ming Su about it. You’re my brother-in-law—having three or four wives is normal, isn’t it?”

He paused, chuckled, “Just remember, Ming Su is the principal wife, and you must have a chubby son with her first. Remember: Ming Su first, Ping’er second.”

It was too much… Ping’er stole a glance at Han Fu, then fled with her bedding, her face crimson.

As she slipped past him, she left behind a faint fragrance of girlhood.