Chapter Twenty-Two: Morning Run by the River, Two Porcelain Vases!

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September 12th, early morning.

The sky was a pale gray, separating the sun from the world below; even the chilly, restless autumn wind could not scatter the blue clouds that blanketed the heavens. It was a typical overcast morning, but as the clouds were not rain-bringing, there was no need to worry about a soaking.

Leaving the Duke of Peiguo’s residence and heading two li east, one would find a stone arch bridge spanning more than ten meters, known as Ding Bridge.

Beneath Ding Bridge, the river’s gentle current rippled, and the expanding circles of water met the shore only to be broken and dissipate. The Luo River—a tributary of the Liao River, one of Xu Dynasty’s two great rivers—ran three hundred li from north to south through Dingxing, entering from the northern city and exiting from the southern, dividing the city evenly in two.

Or rather, in an ancient society so heavily reliant on water, Dingxing was built upon the two banks of the Luo River.

On either side of the river, willows drooped their slender branches.

Yellowed willow leaves separated from their trees, spinning and drifting down, landing either on the banks or in the water. They were the cause of those scattered ripples.

The banks were carpeted with willows of varying shades, and if the sun had shone brightly at that moment, the two banks of the Luo River would have seemed paved in gold.

Smoke curled lazily from the homes along the river, and the aroma of breakfast drifted tantalizingly, stirring the appetite of any passerby.

Now and then, a housewife would rise early to wash clothes, squatting by the river and beating the garments, her back naturally and perfectly arched from shoulders to hips.

Such a scene resembled a living painting, vivid and brimming with the warmth of everyday life.

Jogging along the riverbank, Han Fu took in the beauty around him, savoring it thoroughly.

If yesterday’s wedding procession was not counted, this was Han Fu’s first morning run since moving into the Duke’s residence.

The ancient air, untouched by industrial pollution, was so fresh that Han Fu breathed deeply, the cool morning breeze invigorating him, washing away all trace of sleepiness.

Fine beads of sweat broke out on his forehead; after his run, his breath was a little heavy and he felt pleasantly tired.

He kept his pace steady, his mind keeping track of time. Spying a solitary riverside courtyard about five hundred meters ahead, he decided he would turn back there.

That would leave just enough time for washing up and breakfast.

It was still early, and few people were out; Han Fu encountered only a handful.

Yet each person he did meet regarded him with surprise, puzzled as to why someone would be running along the river so early.

Some even stopped in their tracks, and washerwomen paused their work, gripping their sticks.

As Han Fu drew near, they instinctively tensed, only relaxing once he had moved on.

To them, Han Fu’s actions seemed quite odd.

In all their lives, they had never seen anyone running along the river...

Ignoring the curious stares, Han Fu finished his run and turned back.

Counting the distance, it was two li from the Zhou residence to the riverbank, another two li from Ding Bridge to the small courtyard, and thus a round trip was eight li.

Eight li—about four kilometers—was neither too much nor too little for Han Fu’s current fitness.

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By the time he returned to the Duke’s residence, Han Fu was drenched in sweat. The gatekeeper, seeing his appearance as he opened the door, stared in astonishment, full of questions as he watched Han Fu’s retreating back.

“Did he fall in the river? But his clothes aren’t wet...” the gatekeeper muttered, shaking his head as he closed the door.

“Master-in-law...”

Just as Han Fu reached the courtyard entrance, Ping’er came running over, asking, “Where have you been so early? Why are you covered in sweat?”

The little maid had changed her address, now calling him “master-in-law” instead of “young master” as she had the previous two days.

Earlier, she’d gone to help Han Fu wash up, but after knocking for a long while with no response, she had entered to find the room empty.

She knew that Han Fu and Miss Bai Li had not shared a room last night. As a personal maid, she and another maid, Lian’er, had kept watch at the courtyard entrance. Han Fu had told her he’d be staying in this courtyard.

Lian’er, like Ping’er, had grown up with Bai Li Mingsu as a close maid. Though their roles seemed that of servant and mistress, their bond was more like sisters.

A few days ago, Lian’er had returned home to visit her family. Yesterday, after Bai Li Mingsu’s wedding, she had hurried back, arriving just before noon.

Because of this, Bai Li Mingda had secretly handed Han Fu a small porcelain bottle, mysteriously saying, “Lian’er is back now. If you find it hard to resist, keep this medicine on hand, just in case. But remember: only wait until Mingsu is pregnant before you visit those two maids...”

After a lengthy ramble, Han Fu, annoyed, shooed Bai Li Mingda out of the room for some peace and quiet.

He then tucked the porcelain bottle away for safekeeping.

From today on, Ping’er’s main duty was to serve Han Fu, while Lian’er attended to Bai Li Mingsu.

Yet, on her first day as his dedicated maid, Ping’er had lost track of him...

The little maid grew anxious, spinning in circles, just about to fetch Bai Li Mingsu when she saw Han Fu appear at the gate, making her beam with relief as she hurried over.

But upon seeing Han Fu bathed in sweat, her curiosity was piqued.

After only a dozen quick steps, Ping’er’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink, making her look even more endearing.

Han Fu smiled, waving a hand. “No need to worry—it’s just from running.”

“Running?” Ping’er’s delicate face was full of confusion.

“Yes,” Han Fu replied, heading toward his room. “I ran along the Luo River. From now on, unless it’s windy or rainy, I’ll do this every day.”

Ping’er followed closely behind. “But why run?”

“To keep fit and healthy, of course.”

“Running makes you strong?” The little maid was baffled. In her mind, building strength meant wielding swords or lifting stones like Guard Ge or Second Young Master Zhou Yuantou.

“It’s just a different focus...” Han Fu answered. Then, thinking a detailed explanation would be too much for now, he joked, “Lift enough stones, and your arms get strong. Run enough, and you get faster. Just think—if one day we’re attacked by a powerful enemy, and I can’t win, I can at least outrun him. It’s a life-saving skill—vital, really.”

Ping’er burst into laughter, her smile as fresh and shy as a lily just beginning to bloom—both alluring and innocent.

Her spirits lifted, she said playfully, “But if Miss and I run with you when we meet an enemy, won’t you just leave us far behind?”

Han Fu had just dipped his hands into water. At her words, he paused, then turned to reply seriously, “That will never happen. If that day comes, I’ll carry both of you and run.”

“Ha ha...”

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At Han Fu’s words, Ping’er could no longer hold back. She set aside her bashfulness and laughed uncontrollably, bending over slightly as her belly ached. When she finally calmed, her eyes brimmed with tears of laughter.

Her life had always been quiet, and she’d never had such delightful conversation.

“Master-in-law, how could you possibly carry both Miss and me?” Ping’er feigned disbelief, then sobered, saying earnestly, “If that day really comes, just carry Miss and go. Leave Lian’er and me behind—we’re just maids, our lives are cheap. Miss and Master-in-law are the precious ones...”

Han Fu, in the midst of washing his face, froze and looked at the earnest Ping’er, taken aback.

This girl was so sentimental; even a joke could make her imagine so much...

Perhaps, he thought, this was the innocence of youth.

“There will never be such a day...” Han Fu promised silently, and finished washing his face.

He took the towel Ping’er handed him and began to dry off.

“I’ve been listening outside for quite a while...” Bai Li Mingda’s figure appeared by the door.

The two had been so absorbed in their conversation that they hadn’t noticed him arriving.

He strode inside, glancing at Han Fu, then at Ping’er.

Was that worry in his eyes?

Han Fu found it strange, unable to guess why Bai Li Mingda had come so early.

Ping’er, unnerved by his odd look, took a step back.

“You two seem to be getting along well, and I’m very pleased...” Bai Li Mingda said to Han Fu, then turned to Ping’er and solemnly declared, “But Ping’er, remember this: until Mingsu is pregnant, you must not share a room with Han Fu.”

What a mess, Han Fu thought, half-inclined to cover his face or give his brother-in-law a swift kick to send him back to his own courtyard.

“Young Master Bai Li... you... I... Master-in-law...” Ping’er, flustered and red-faced, stammered incoherently. Embarrassed, she stamped her foot, picked up the copper basin, and fled the room.

Han Fu was left speechless. As Bai Li Mingda turned to him, Han Fu asked irritably, “Why have you come so early, brother?”

“For serious business, of course.” With a grave expression, Bai Li Mingda pulled out a porcelain vial from his robe and thrust it into Han Fu’s hand, lowering his voice: “You and Mingsu are married, yet have not consummated. As your brother, I’ve noticed and been concerned. Of course, I know you’re anxious too, so I had someone search all night for this...”

“Just one drop, and if she drinks it, even the most virtuous woman will become as gentle as a lamb, you—”

“Take care, see yourself out.” Han Fu pushed Bai Li Mingda out the door.

“Wait, brother-in-law, let me finish—”

Bang! The door closed firmly behind him, latch secured.

As for the porcelain bottle?

Yes, Han Fu tucked it away for safekeeping.