The Duan Family.
Duan Jinxing had already begun his post at the Imperial Stables, which was quite far from the Duan Family residence. He left home before dawn each day and returned late at night, reeking of horses.
Among his colleagues at the Imperial Stables, few even held the lowest tier of imperial degrees. As a scholar who had achieved the rare feat of topping the imperial examinations three times in a row, he stood out like a crane among chickens—utterly out of place.
His colleagues avoided him as if he carried the plague, scattering the moment he approached.
As the lowest-ranking official in the Imperial Stables—a mere ninth-rank supervisor—everyone outranked him.
Even the lowest-ranking official was still an official, and in theory, menial tasks like cleaning should have been left to servants.
Yet on his very first day, his superior patted him on the shoulder and said, "The servants are on leave due to family matters. You’ll have to manage for a while."
And so, from that day onward, feeding the horses, grooming them, cleaning the stables—all of it fell to Duan Jinxing.
His superior was especially harsh, inspecting the stables multiple times a day. If there was even the slightest trace of filth, he would sneer, "A triple-crowned scholar, and you can’t even handle such a simple task?"
"No wonder they sent you here to tend horses. If you can’t even manage a ninth-rank post, how could you ever handle a sixth-rank position?"
Duan Jinxing’s chest heaved with anger, his face burning red.
After over a decade of grueling study, after achieving the highest honors in the imperial examinations—was this how he was to be humiliated?
He had spent years mastering the classics, composing essays on statecraft and governance—not to shovel horse dung!
His superior’s relentless torment and mockery could only mean one thing: someone powerful had ordered it.
And Duan Jinxing didn’t need to guess who that was—it had to be the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord.
This time, he had been dragged down entirely because of Jiang Zhaohua and the Marquis of Xiping’s Mansion.
He had agreed to marry Jiang Zhaohua, a woman who had lost her virtue, even willing to raise another man’s child—all because he had hoped the Marquis’s influence would help him rise in the ranks.
But now, not only had the Marquis done nothing for him, they had instead ruined him.
The thought of divorce flickered in Duan Jinxing’s mind.
But after careful consideration, he dismissed it.
He had no proof that Jiang Zhaohua had been pregnant with another man’s child when she married him.
He had secretly investigated the matter, but the Marquis’s power had ensured all traces were erased. If he divorced her now, the world would only see him as a man who abandoned his wife in hardship—a stain on his reputation.
From a young age, Duan Jinxing had been meticulous about his reputation. He knew that to rise in the ranks, a good name was essential.
If he divorced Jiang Zhaohua now, his reputation would suffer. What kind of wife could he hope to marry then?
Besides, though he was suffering now because of the Marquis, the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord’s favor toward Jiang Yunshu was fleeting. Once the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord tired of her, the Marquis’s household would no longer be targeted—and neither would he.
Then, the Marquis’s influence in the capital would surely pave his way to higher office.
With this in mind, Duan Jinxing resolved not only to stay married but to use this opportunity to portray himself as a devoted husband.
He would make Jiang Zhaohua fall deeply in love with him, ensure her parents felt indebted to him, and earn the world’s praise for his unwavering loyalty.
But putting this plan into action proved far harder than he expected.
Each day at the Imperial Stables was an unending grind, ten—no, a hundred—times more exhausting than his years of study.
Countless times, Duan Jinxing was tempted to simply walk away.
But his superior would casually remark, "Performance review."
Those two words were enough to keep him shackled to the unbearable labor.
To rise in rank, he needed a flawless record.
And rise he must—he could not remain trapped here, tending horses forever.
By the time he returned home each night, Duan Jinxing was utterly spent. Facing Jiang Zhaohua, he no longer had the energy to feign affection.
On his first day back from the Imperial Stables, when he went to see her, she had retched at the stench clinging to him.
Fury surged in his chest. Wasn’t this all her fault? And now she dared to scorn him?
With great effort, he suppressed his rage, ensuring she saw none of it.
Jiang Zhaohua apologized weakly, "My body is still weak from childbirth. I can’t bear strong smells right now—it’s not that I dislike you, husband… gag!"
Before she could finish, she was dry-heaving again.
Duan Jinxing quickly excused himself to bathe.
Unlike his wife, Duan’s mother had nothing but sympathy. "Oh, my son… how you suffer!"
"You’re exhausted—why bathe alone? We have so many maids now!"
She immediately called for Furong, the most skilled among them. "Furong, come and attend to Duan Jinxing’s bath—"
Duan Jinxing refused at once. "No need. I’ll manage."
Though it was common for noblemen to be bathed by maids—not considered disloyal to one’s wife—he knew Jiang Zhaohua’s jealous nature.
Had he grown up with such luxuries, she might not have minded.
But he came from humble origins. If he started indulging in such privileges now, she would resent it.
In truth, he believed Jiang Zhaohua still looked down on his lowly birth.
Since their marriage, she had never offered him a maid’s service—nor had she ever attended to him herself.
In her eyes, a man of his station didn’t deserve such treatment.
Duan’s mother fumed at her son’s refusal. "What, must you remain chaste for her sake?"
"After all she’s done to you!"
She was convinced his demotion to stablemaster was punishment for entering Jiang Zhaohua’s birthing chamber.
Duan Jinxing couldn’t explain the truth. He only said stiffly, "Mother, Jiang Zhaohua is still the Marquis’s daughter. For the sake of her family, you must treat her with courtesy."
The hostility between his mother and wife only deepened his frustration.
A pang of regret struck him.
On the day Jiang Zhaohua gave birth, when he learned of his humiliating new post, he had known his mother would rage at home, making Jiang Zhaohua’s labor even harder.
He should have returned to stop it.
But bitterness had clouded his judgment.
He resented Jiang Zhaohua for ruining him.
So though he foresaw what would happen, he did nothing.
A part of him wanted her to suffer.
But he never imagined she might die—along with the child.
The shock of it chilled him. He hadn’t wanted her dead!
At most, he had secretly hoped the child—that bastard—wouldn’t survive. But Jiang Zhaohua had to live.
What a pity.
Though it was a difficult birth, the bastard child was delivered safely—a strong, healthy boy who nursed well, slept soundly, and cried with remarkable vigor.
Because of the labor complications, Jiang Zhaohua and Duan's mother now treated each other like sworn enemies.
Duan Jinxing scrubbed himself raw in the bath, washing until he could no longer detect any lingering scent on his skin, before finally entering the bedchamber to visit Jiang Zhaohua and their son.
"Is Shiming behaving today?"
Duan Jinxing had casually chosen a name for the boy—Duan Shiming.
At the mention of their son, Jiang Zhaohua immediately brightened with endless chatter. "Shiming has been so good today! He nursed and then slept without a single fuss."
Duan Jinxing studied the child’s face, searching for any resemblance to himself.
The eyebrows, nose, mouth—all bore Jiang Zhaohua’s features.
Even the eyes, though unlike hers, didn’t mirror his own.
He thought bitterly: They must belong to the adulterer.
Though Duan Jinxing visited the child daily, pretending concern, Jiang Zhaohua saw through the act—her husband remained coldly detached.
It would never cross her mind that he suspected the boy wasn’t his own!
Instead, she misread his indifference, assuming he blamed the child for his demotion to a lowly stablemaster post.
Cradling her son, Jiang Zhaohua felt the vast world shrink to just the two of them, clinging together.
She had gotten her wish—a son—yet nothing after his birth had gone as she imagined.
She had envisioned her husband’s triumph as the top scholar and the birth of their heir as twin blessings, filling the household with joy. She expected Duan Jinxing’s affection to deepen, Duan's mother to dote on her more than during pregnancy…
Instead, his appointment as stablemaster drained all celebration from the house. Her husband remained distant toward their son, and Duan's mother refused to even visit…
The child Jiang Zhaohua had risked her life to bear was cherished by no one but her.
The Duan Family’s new addition might as well have gone unnoticed—not a single red ribbon hung in celebration.
The household was shrouded in gloom, devoid of any happiness.
Tentatively, Jiang Zhaohua offered the baby to Duan Jinxing. "Would you like to hold him, husband?"
He recoiled instinctively. "He’s so fragile, like tender tofu. I wouldn’t dare."
Heart sinking, she drew the child back into her arms.
All of this—every misery—was Jiang Yunshu’s doing.
Why did that woman, who should have died long ago, still draw breath?
But not for much longer. A ruthless glint flashed in Jiang Zhaohua’s eyes.
Jiang Yunshu’s days were numbered. And Jiang Zhaohua wasn’t the only one who wanted her dead.
She had already secured an ally in the palace—the Empress Dowager.
The Empress Dowager, too, saw Jiang Yunshu as an obstacle in her path.
