Chen Baoxiang let out a helpless sigh. “Great Immortal, it’s not that I don’t know the thing is messy — but it saves me from having to wash my trousers and skirts, and it lets me get around outside, at least.”

As she spoke, perhaps to prove it, she put her clothing back in order and took two steps around the room.

Zhang Zhixu, feeling a wave after warm wave rising below, squeezed his eyes shut, caught between fury and humiliation.

What you say with your mouth and what you see with your own eyes are two different things. And what you see with your own eyes and what you feel in your own body are two different things still.

What he felt right now was that living was worse than dying.

Chen Baoxiang, for her part, was the one offering comfort: “You’ll get used to it.”

Who in the world would want to get used to this?

The pain and discomfort swept through him together with a tide of irritability. Zhang Zhixu couldn’t sit still, couldn’t stand still, his complexion darkening to a stormy gray.

And of all times, Jiuquan came rushing in, calling out with great commotion: “Miss Baoxiang, all the shop managers from the various establishments are coming today to settle accounts! Would you like to come and watch?”

At a time like this, she still expected him to deal with affairs?

Zhang Zhixu snatched up the vase beside him and was about to hurl it —

Wait.

Chen Baoxiang stopped him, tilting her head in thought: Didn’t you say earlier that there was a spy in the Zhang household?

Yes — someone had been leaking information about him to Cheng Huaili, which had not only caused Cheng Huaili to become wary of Sun Sihuai, but had prompted the man to press for advancing the wedding date with Zhang Yinyue the very moment he regained consciousness.

Zhang Zhixu grew calm. Enduring the pain, he said: “Fine. Let me go and see.”

Chen Baoxiang had known the Zhang family was wealthy — and as Zhang Zhixu, the heir of this generation, farmlands and shops were naturally abundant. She had mentally prepared herself before going in.

But once through the door, she was still staggered off balance.

In a courtyard thirty zhang wide, four long abacuses were laid out on each side. In the center stood some two hundred shop managers, standing in neat rows, each holding a thick ledger. When they saw Jiuquan enter, they bowed in unison: “Greetings to the master of the household.”

Heavens!

She called out inwardly to the Great Immortal: This is far too intimidating!

What’s so intimidating about it? Any wealthy household that runs its own affairs holds one of these every three months.

The moment Chen Baoxiang heard that, she immediately pulled herself together, assumed an air of practiced ease as though she’d seen it a hundred times before, and even went through the motions of picking up the nearby tea cup and skimming the froth off the surface.

Zhang Zhixu had been aching and agitated a moment before, but her behavior made him laugh outright: What are you doing?

A rare opportunity — might as well practice. If I end up marrying into a prominent household someday, an air like this would at least intimidate people into thinking twice.

As she said it, she even arched an eyebrow, manufacturing an expression that was seven parts disdain and three parts cunning sharpness.

Zhang Zhixu: …

He laughed until he choked on a cough — and the moment he coughed, a sudden hot rush surged from below.

“Please be seated, Miss.” Jiuquan placed a chair behind her.

The ash pouch seemed unable to contain everything; a little blood had seeped out at the sides. Zhang Zhixu’s face looked terrible, but having already come this far, there was nothing else he could do — he simply had to steel himself and sit down, doing his utmost not to move.

The shop managers at the front began presenting their accounts.

In the past, he would have been thoroughly attentive for this, never letting a falsified entry or an omission slip past. But today, every bit of his attention was occupied by the damp, sticky sensation below — his inner heat rising, his restlessness growing.

He endured for half a shichen, listening to the voices of dozens of managers in turn, and was just beginning to think the spy might not be among this group after all — when he heard a voice say:

“Of late, the authorities have grown ever stricter in regulating the money exchange houses, and with the Cheng family opening a new moneylending hall directly across from us, the Huitong Exchange’s profits are far lower than before.”

His ear gave a faint twitch. Zhang Zhixu’s eyes snapped up sharply.

It was him.

At the front, Jiuquan caught the soft sound of a tea cup being set down behind him. His gaze shifted too, fixing on the manager of the Huitong Silver Exchange. “The silver exchange involves a great many dealings — would the manager Liu please remain after the session.”

“Of course.” He answered compliantly enough with his mouth, but his expression was not entirely cooperative.

Right — Zhang Zhixu recalled now. This man was a friend of his father’s. He had come to the Zhang household in his early years, seeking work and shelter, and out of regard for that old bond, his father had placed him in the most profitable branch: the silver exchange. Liu Sheng appeared straightforward, and he worked with reasonable diligence. When Zhang Zhixu was young, Liu Sheng had even visited him and shown him care on several occasions — and so, once Zhang Zhixu took over the family’s businesses, he had promoted the man to shop manager without hesitation.

This was not something Jiuquan would find easy to handle.

As these thoughts were passing through his mind, another sharp wave of pain struck his abdomen.

Zhang Zhixu breathed in sharply and asked Chen Baoxiang: When you normally deal with this, surely you have some method?

Chen Baoxiang was still carefully observing the postures and mannerisms of the various managers, quietly imitating them — but at this, she looked puzzled: What method is there? Everyone just gets through it somehow.

What about medicine? Is there nothing that helps?

How would I know? I never had money to buy medicine before.

The discomfort in his abdomen spread upward until it pressed against his chest. Zhang Zhixu felt stifled and moody.

I always used to think it was tiresome to have money. Now I find having no money is even harder to bear.

That’s nothing yet.

Chen Baoxiang smiled, trying to soften the blow: The monthly flow is painful, yes — but at least it won’t kill you. Childbirth is the truly unbearable part.

The matter of a woman giving birth was something men heard of at most in vague terms — it was not something one could ever properly inquire into.

But what he was experiencing right now was already this painful. Zhang Zhixu suddenly found himself genuinely curious: What kind of pain could possibly be worse than this?

When my mother was giving birth to me, it was a difficult labor and she couldn’t deliver. They cut her belly open with scissors to pull me out.

Zhang Zhixu: …

He instinctively pressed his hand over her abdomen.

Chen Baoxiang seemed to have already made her peace with it. Her voice was calm: There were no good physicians in the village — though even the best physician might not have been able to save her in that situation. They said my mother was screaming in pain until the end, the whole room, the whole floor covered in blood, and then when she had no more strength left to scream, she breathed her last.

The Great Immortal seemed frightened. For a long while, he said nothing.

She smiled and offered comfort: It’s just bad luck when it goes that way. There are those with better fortune who give birth safely.

Safely, yes — but the pain is unavoidable all the same. Along with the wounds of the body — a hundredfold worse than the monthly flow.

His back ached and felt swollen, his chest sore and heavy, and the smell filling his senses was nothing but blood and the ash of burned straw. Zhang Zhixu fell silent, lowering his eyes. His thoughts were like the surface of the sea in a downpour — churning, unsettled, refusing to calm.

“Manager Jiuquan.” Someone came rushing in from outside, hurrying to Jiuquan’s ear and murmuring something in urgent undertones.

Jiuquan, upon hearing it, looked troubled. He thought for a moment, then rose and came quietly to Chen Baoxiang’s side. “There has been a development on the master’s end. Physician Sun has already gone ahead. I cannot leave here — would you like to go and look in on things?”

He was already covered in blood below, and they still wanted him to go rushing around outside?

Like a spark landing on oiled cloth, Zhang Zhixu’s temper ignited in an instant: “I am also unwell — how is it that he hasn’t come to see after me?”

Jiuquan opened his mouth in bewilderment, considered for some time, and ventured: “We can hardly have the master carried over here…”

Aware that he’d lost his composure, Zhang Zhixu pressed a hand to his forehead. “I cannot move today. I’ll go another day.”

“Understood. I’ll inform you if anything further comes up, Miss.” Jiuquan, having sensed the state of her mood, made himself scarce with impressive speed.

Chen Baoxiang, a beat behind the rest, asked: Could it be that Zhang Zhixu is about to wake up?

Unlikely.

He was just about to say that he was still here, so how could the other body possibly wake up — but without any warning, a sudden lightness swept through him.

A familiar sensation of the world spinning overtook him and pulled him under.