“I married you not to have you attend me, but to have you enjoy blessings with me.”

Yan Sanhe savored these words in her heart, one character at a time.

She had to admit, at this moment, her heart was moved.

Which woman in this world didn’t want a good life, didn’t want to enjoy blessings? But enjoying blessings certainly had conditions—

Either complete obedience to the man, going east when he said east, not daring west. Or you had to endure everything about him.

Clearly, Madam Mao was neither.

Zhu Xuanjiu’s love for her had been carved into his bones—he’d rather suffer himself than let her endure the slightest hardship.

Such men existed in this world.

They did.

Lu Shi could be counted as one.

But the problem was, Lu Shi and Tang Zhiwei separated at the height of their passionate devotion, followed by long years of revenge.

Their unchanging deep feelings formed under special circumstances.

Zhu Xuanjiu and Madam Mao were an ordinary couple under the same roof who had walked together through thirty-four years of married life.

These thirty-four years saw no earth-shattering major events—all daily necessities, household trivialities.

Day after day, year after year.

Until Zhu Xuanjiu fell gravely ill and neared death, he still cared for Madam Mao so thoughtfully.

So even after his death with such a fierce heart demon, from Madam Mao’s mouth, all spoke of this man’s goodness.

Vigorous, passionate feelings could shock people.

Gentle, flowing feelings could truly move people.

Yan Sanhe looked at the now-cold tea cup on the small table. “So you and Old Master Zhu rarely quarreled all these years?”

“Almost never. He always listened to me.”

“Major and minor matters, all listened?”

“Divination and feng shui matters, I didn’t interfere. These household matters managing daily life, I decided.”

“Never even reddened faces?”

“What life together has no red faces? But my lord had a good temper.”

Madam Mao: “Though three years younger than me, he always yielded to me. Sometimes I’d throw young-miss tantrums and sulk. He was just a Maitreya Buddha.”

Wife-loving, wife-doting, gentle temperament, good nature—this was the impression Old Master Zhu had left in Yan Sanhe’s heart thus far.

“Whose idea was sleeping in separate courtyards?”

Asking this, Madam Mao lowered her eyes somewhat embarrassedly.

“After bearing our eldest, I developed a problem—I snore when sleeping. He’s a light sleeper who can’t have even a bit of sound by his ear.”

In the first few years, she would wait until the man fell asleep before daring to sleep herself.

Later, when the man noticed, he would occasionally go sleep in the study for several nights.

“After becoming family head, he set about renovating the residence. One evening we were lying in bed talking. Talking and talking, I fell asleep.”

Waking at midnight, opening her eyes, the man was propping his chin, watching her with a half-smile.

After over ten years of marriage, she had nothing left to be bashful about. Curling her lip, she found an excuse for her snoring: “Tired from the day.”

“I’ve lived in this courtyard for decades, grown accustomed to it, don’t want to move.”

The man tucked the quilt up for her. “Don’t suffer along with me. I’ll help you pick a courtyard with the most abundant yang energy for you to move into.”

Her two eyebrows hadn’t yet shot up when he continued:

“Each day I’ll dine at your place, keep you company and talk. When it gets dark, I’ll return here to sleep. This way you’ll also have ease, I’ll also have comfort—let’s stop tormenting each other.”

That year, Madam Mao was thirty-three, having been married to the man for exactly fourteen years. Their youngest daughter had already been born crying.

Three sons, three daughters—no one could shake Madam Mao’s position.

Madam Mao’s heart had already softened, but she still felt somewhat reluctant. “How can that work? People will laugh.”

“In the Zhu residence now, I decide. Who dares laugh?”

He lay down beside her. “I just used your eight characters to divine—the central path most benefits your body and most enhances your vitality. Move to the central path.”

“Miss Yan, my lord’s divinations were incredibly accurate.”

Madam Mao grew proud again. “Since I moved to the central path, these years I haven’t had even a cough or cold. Relatives and friends all say my vitality keeps improving.”

Whom to marry required divination.

Which courtyard to live in required divination.

So did going out require divining auspicious or inauspicious signs?

Yan Sanhe frowned slightly and asked again, “Before Old Master Zhu’s final moments, did he leave you any words?”

“He did.”

Madam Mao answered readily.

“People in their profession know their own fate clearly. On New Year’s Day this year, my lord said he was forty-nine this year, in conflict with Tai Sui, the ninth barrier hard to pass. He had me go burn incense at temples when free, praying for his blessings.”

Yan Sanhe: “Old Master Zhu believed in this?”

Madam Mao: “Miss Yan, the more people in this profession, the more they believe in fate. How much rice a person eats in their lifetime, how many roads they walk, how many blessings they enjoy—heaven arranges it all with fixed numbers.”

Yan Sanhe: “Then what?”

“Then my lord’s prediction proved accurate.”

That entire year, she went to temples on the first and fifteenth without fail, never missing despite wind or rain, her devotion absolute. Yet my lord still fell ill.

“The last month…”

Madam Mao’s speech slowed. “My lord sensed he wouldn’t make it and sent the children away to discuss final matters with me.”

“What did he instruct?”

“To treat all fairly—care for all three sons and three daughters equally, shortchanging no one.”

Madam Mao sighed. “They all dropped from my belly. How could I shortchange any? He underestimated me.”

“Anything else?”

“To live well with our eldest, not dwell on him. Besides that…”

Madam Mao thought for quite a while and shook her head. “Nothing much else. Dividing the family estate—we women cannot interfere. He instructed everything to our eldest.”

Zhu Xuanjiu instructed family division matters to First Master Zhu. First Master Zhu would naturally tell Madam Mao, but Madam Mao, following Zhu family rules that women don’t interfere in such matters, swallowed her words.

This showed from another angle that Zhu family rules were paramount.

“Buyan, help us change the cold tea.”

“All right.”

Yan Sanhe had Li Buyan change the tea, planning to switch topics.

At this point, she had a preliminary judgment: Old Master Zhu’s heart demon had no connection to Madam Mao.

So their loving past as husband and wife could be briefly summarized.

Hot tea was served. Yan Sanhe asked again, “Is this residence the Zhu family’s ancestral home?”

“Yes.”

“Whoever leads the Zhu family lives in this residence?”

“Yes.”

Madam Mao: “This is a rule passed down through Zhu family generations.”

Yan Sanhe: “What about the others?”

Madam Mao: “All leave the residence to live elsewhere.”

Yan Sanhe: “So of your three sons, ultimately only the eldest can live in this residence. The other two must move out.”

Madam Mao: “Yes.”

Yan Sanhe: “Who provides the establishment fees?”

“The common estate.”

Madam Mao, fearing Yan Sanhe wouldn’t understand, explained in detail:

“Actually, before each Zhu family head passes, these matters must be arranged beforehand. My lord purchased residences elsewhere for Second and Third several years ago.

Before Old Master passed, he also arranged things this way—the ancestral home and ancestral fields go to the next family head, other family property is divided equally. Generation after generation, never confused.

By past rules, after my lord’s fifth seventh-day memorial, the family could divide.”

Yan Sanhe: “The three brothers still living together now—is it because of Old Master Zhu’s heart demon?”

“Yes.”