MFMH C103

Chapter 103 — Epilogue

Shen Yanbei had always been a man of his word. That very day, he finished reading the storybook and, come evening, put its plot into practice with Gu Changfeng.

“Yanbei—” Leaning back against the wall of the bath, Gu Changfeng cried out, face flushed scarlet, both hands pressed against the youth above him.

His beautifully defined muscles were taut, his honey-colored skin glowing with a faint blush, beads of sweat or water dotting his body, making him unbearably enticing.

Shen Yanbei lifted one of his legs onto his shoulder, thrust his hips forward, and bent to laugh softly in his ear. “That’s how the farmer devoured the little rabbit. Understand now?”

“U-understood! Ah—” His sensitive spot was struck relentlessly, waves of pleasure surging through him, his body trembling uncontrollably. Gu Changfeng’s legs weakened, threatening to slip beneath the water, so he clung tightly to Shen Yanbei.

The youth, hair loose over his shoulders, smiled wickedly. His lips and tongue roved over Gu Changfeng’s body as he buried himself deep within him, the heat enough to burn him to ashes…

Fearing his husband might not be able to bear too much, Shen Yanbei restrained himself to twice. Yet whether from the pregnancy’s heightened sensitivity or not, afterward Gu Changfeng was limp and weak, unable even to lift a finger. Shen Yanbei, in excellent spirits, cradled him and carefully washed him clean.

He was very satisfied with their current quarters, especially the jade-built bath. Though not overly large, it was certainly spacious enough for two men to… do as they pleased.

Gu Changfeng’s whole body burned, unable to believe himself reduced to such weakness. Forcing his trembling legs to bear weight, he tried to rise from Shen Yanbei, but with one tug, he fell straight back into his embrace.

Shen Yanbei held him close, resting his head on his shoulder hollow, caressing his smooth back with a sigh. “I’m going to die on you.” Now that his husband was pregnant, he no longer needed to hold back, releasing inside him freely — the bliss of it nearly tore his soul away.

Gu Changfeng’s face steamed. “G-get up.” His back was tingling under those strokes, and he barely held back humiliating sounds.

“Alright…” Pressing a kiss to his neck, Shen Yanbei released him without hesitation.

The days ahead were long; no need to rush.

On the soft, comfortable bed, Gu Changfeng finally exhaled in relief. The pleasure just now had seeped into his very bones, every pore unfurling. Relaxed at last, he only wanted to sleep.

Watching him squint in contentment, Shen Yanbei lazily stroked his back until Gu Changfeng’s eyes closed.

When the man slept, Shen Yanbei brushed his hair aside, studying him a while before slipping quietly from bed.

The steward waited outside. “Consort, you called for me?”

Shen Yanbei smiled, embarrassed. “I trouble you so late.”

The steward flustered. “You honor me too much.”

Shen Yanbei said with a faint smile, “On the third day, one should return to the bride’s family. Though Changfeng’s parents are gone, the household yet has the Old Madam. As a junior, I ought naturally to pay respects to my elder.”

The steward paused. The youth’s smile did not reach his eyes. Recalling what the Duke had said before the servants that morning, the steward bowed. “This way, Consort.”

And so Shen Yanbei followed him to the main courtyard.

Lanterns along the gallery cast a dim glow. Insects sang faintly in the night. Shen Yanbei’s face was expressionless as he passed pavilions, flower trellises, and swings, arriving at a courtyard still lit within.

The gate was closed. The steward knocked. A servant woman opened the hatch above the door. “Who goes there at this hour? For what purpose?”

“The Consort comes to see her. Open.”

The main courtyard servants had not gone to the gate to greet them back, but the Duke’s orders had reached all ears. Seeing the handsome, refined stranger beside the steward, the woman hurried to open. “Greetings, Consort.”

“No need for formality. Has the Old Madam retired?” Shen Yanbei asked softly.

“No, Consort.” That night when the madwoman was subdued by the Duke, the physician had staunched her bleeding. But the next day, she had raged worse. On the Duke’s wedding day, none dared provoke ill omen, so they had bound her and let her curse herself hoarse.

Finding such madness useless, she had been quiet for two days. But today, the Duke’s return, she had chosen to go mad again, even at night!

The servant cursed inwardly but respectfully led the way, warning, “The heat has made the Old Madam irritable. Should she offend, Consort, please forgive.”

Shen Yanbei smiled faintly.

The door creaked.

Hateful eyes locked onto his.

They stared at one another.

Shen Yanbei calmly returned the gaze of the Duke’s wife, bound to a chair, gagged and glaring.

He had seen Gu Qingyao, who had inherited her beauty. Though now disheveled and wan, years of luxury had preserved her. Properly dressed, surrounded by attendants, she could still radiate the aura of a grand lady.

What a waste…

“Such rudeness,” Shen Yanbei said mildly. “Untie her.”

The servant woman obeyed. The instant the bonds loosened, before the gag was removed, the woman struck her hard across the face. “Bitch!”

Because of Shen Yanbei’s presence, the servant dared not retort. Shen Yanbei waved her away.

“And what are you?” Even fallen so low, she remained arrogant.

Glancing around, Shen Yanbei noted that all sharp objects had been removed. Yet if one wished to die, no blade was needed.

“Last year in Liuyang, when I went by imperial decree to relieve disaster, I met the Princess Consort of Prince Jinyang,” Shen Yanbei began evenly, ignoring her glare. “She was of breathtaking beauty, yet unlucky — the Prince’s concubine Su conceived first…”

The woman’s face changed, eyes darting to him.

“The Prince doted on Concubine Su as much as he despised his barren wife. Jealous, the Princess Consort plotted against her, but failed, and was beaten half to death, cast aside to rot.” Shen Yanbei sighed. “Meanwhile, Concubine Su shone, servants bowing, carriages rolling. Pitiful, that Princess Consort battered and unloved…”

The woman paled in shock. Her only hope now was her daughter Gu Qingyao. If she died… what of her son?

Yes! Her son!

Grabbing Shen Yanbei, she demanded, “Did you see a young boy beside the Princess Consort?”

He frowned, thinking, then shook his head. “No young boy. But I did see a child, four or five, serving as a footstool for the Prince.”

Like thunder, she nearly collapsed.

Her son, a stepping-stool servant? Impossible! That was her own brother’s child — how could he be reduced to such?

“Concubine Su later bore a daughter. The Prince was ecstatic, lavishing rewards. The Princess Consort, driven mad, seduced a guard and conceived!” Shen Yanbei’s voice hardened.

“What?” Her eyes widened.

“Pregnant again, she regained the Prince’s favor. Yet then Concubine Su announced another child.”

“She… she…” Such secrets — if Shen Yanbei knew, then Gu Qingyao’s adultery too must have been exposed! The woman staggered back.

And then, like a death knell:

“Concubine Su exposed her adultery. The Prince, enraged, had her fetus beaten out.”

The woman collapsed, clutching her ears, shrieking, “Shut up! Shut up!”

So soon broken? Shen Yanbei smirked. “As she lay dying, she summoned that little servant boy…”

He paused, then spoke each word coldly: “And had him strangled to death.”

The woman’s heart twisted like with a blunt blade. Darkness closed in; words stuck in her throat.

Shen Yanbei crouched before her, his face gentle. “The Princess Consort bade me bring you her last words—

‘It’s your fault. You ruined me. Even in death, I will never forgive you.’”

Her pupils shook.

“She was right,” Shen Yanbei said softly. “Like mother, like daughter. You doomed your daughter, and you killed your son.”

“No! Not me! I didn’t!” she howled, madness consuming her.

Shen Yanbei rose, gazing down at her with a calm smile. “The Princess Consort died, her body and that boy’s thrown to wild dogs. Tell me, when you dream of them, haven’t you noticed what’s amiss?”

“Shut up!” she screamed, broken.

As she wished, he fell silent, gave her one last look, and left.

Behind him came heart-rending cries. He felt no guilt.

It was truth.

In a letter to Su Qingze about his marriage, Qingze had replied with congratulations and the sordid tale of Prince Jinyang’s household, a soap opera of jealousy and betrayal.

He had omitted how, after killing Gu Qingyao, Su Ruizhen bore a son. The Prince, desperate for heirs, should have cherished him — but suspicion gnawed. With countless women, only Su conceived. Gu Qingyao, his wife of years, never had — yet by a stranger she had.

Unable to admit his own impotence, the Prince tested again and again, but no one conceived.

Realizing the truth, Su Ruizhen panicked, writing home for help. The old Su matriarch worsened, calling Su Jingheng to counsel.

Before they could, the Prince found her lover. Both her children were bastards.

Facing ruin, for the sake of her infant son, Su Ruizhen chose to perish with the Prince.

The shock killed the old matriarch. The Su family held funerals. Qingze would remain in mourning until next year.

Dust returned to dust. All was settled.

When Shen Yanbei returned, Gu Changfeng still slept.

Fingers tracing the cold line of his jaw, Shen Yanbei’s gaze softened as if beholding a treasure.

The man stirred, nestling closer instinctively. Shen Yanbei held him, pressing a kiss to his brow, smiling in peace as he drifted to sleep beside him.

At dawn, Gu Changfeng awoke refreshed. After washing, Shen Yanbei said cheerfully, “Didn’t you say you wanted fried locusts? I’ve bought some. Let’s dine at Tongfu Restaurant at noon.”

“Alright.” Warmth filled Gu Changfeng’s heart. The youth never forgot his words.

Just as they were leaving, the steward arrived, flustered. “Duke, Consort, there’s trouble in the main courtyard.”

Gu Changfeng frowned. “What is it?”

Glancing at Shen Yanbei’s calm face, the steward lowered his head. “The Old Madam has gone mad.”

The two men exchanged a look. Shen Yanbei tickled his palm. “Shall we go see?”

In the courtyard, the woman raved, screaming at empty air: “Not me! I’m not to blame! I didn’t harm you!” Then, clutching a pillow, she cooed, “Baby, be good, sleep, and when you wake you’ll be Duke…”

Gu Changfeng’s brow furrowed. “Has a doctor seen her?”

“Yes, he said she is insane.”

“Then she must rest. Why not send her to the Ling River estate? Quiet, good for her health,” Shen Yanbei suggested. His husband was kind. Had she been calm, he would not have wronged her. But since she sought death, he would oblige.

Gu Changfeng agreed readily. Word had spread — the second young master dead, the Madam deranged. Now, with his marriage and pregnancy, sending her away was natural.

The steward obeyed, and Shen Yanbei took Gu Changfeng’s hand as they went to the street.

Passersby watched the two men hand-in-hand, whispering.

“Such affection between Lord Shen and the Duke!”

“Indeed! My nephew back from the border said Lord Shen even served as military supervisor for him…”

“Truly enviable!”

As whispers trailed, Gu Changfeng’s steps slowed.

Once, he had been despised throughout the capital, rejected by women and shuang’ers alike, solitary and lonely, longing only for one who would see past his face to love and honor him.

It seemed that wish had come true the moment he met Shen Yanbei.

Sensing his pause, Shen Yanbei turned and smiled gently. “What is it?”

The youth’s gaze was tender, unwavering. The bustling world faded, leaving only his reflection constant.

Looking, Gu Changfeng’s lips curved unconsciously.

In his youth, he had read storybooks, embarrassed by their explicit scenes, skipping to the end — touched, envious of such true love, the closing words etched in his heart: To win one heart, and grow old without parting.

Now, he was the one to be envied.

With my heart I exchange for yours; loving to white hair, never to part. Meeting Shen Yanbei is the greatest fortune of my life.