Wen Qingwan looked at the man who could barely stand; she had clearly overthought—his fief was prosperous.
And he merely happened to own a few villages, with ten thousand households of wounded soldiers, that’s all!
In her previous life as empress, when she assisted Zhao Jue with memorials, she never saw any record of Xiao Jin as a Marquis of ten thousand households.
"Having land and people is not bad; when there’s time, we can go see those villages." Wen Qingwan said casually. In truth, she only wanted to muddle through until old age.
Seeing the little girl so uninterested, Xiao Jin wished he could bite off his own tongue—he should never have spoken.
"My lady, let’s go to the front hall to eat." Xiao Jin said, still not releasing her, holding her as they walked toward the courtyard gate.
Wen Qingwan saw his expression worsen again, and thought he was fragile of spirit, quick to anger.
She didn’t care what he thought inside; in any case, she had no intention of spending effort on him.
In her past life, forced to marry a twisted crown prince, she gritted her teeth and survived; in this life she had grown, and no perverse man could frighten her.
Since she had agreed to marry in the first place, she never intended to separate; she did not want to spend her life with only lamplight and Buddha statues.
Now she had many mind‑reading charms, but she did not want to waste them on Xiao Jin; whether good or bad, she preferred not to know, lest she be caught in a dilemma.
Thinking this way, her mood suddenly brightened; Xiao Jin was the marquis’s legitimate eldest son, and his courtyard was not remote.
The courtyard was fairly large, its gate made of four dark‑red panels, with only the two middle doors usually left slightly open.
Xiao Jin’s courtyard was guarded by Leng Yan’s men; the two young fellows stood straight and tall, unlike the sloppy guards at the marquis’s main gate.
The lattice‑patterned wooden windows of the side corridor were open, clean and bright; in front of the corridor sat a rattan chair and table, and three feet from the table the flowers and plants were in full bloom.
The once cold and austere courtyard, under the setting of flowers and plants, appeared somewhat lively and simple.
Once outside their courtyard, a bluish‑gray stone road ran straight toward the main hall.
What met the eye was a neglected courtyard; likely the marquis’s wife hadn’t paid the gardeners enough, so they slacked off.
From the tall trees beyond the wall came, now and then, a few startling bird calls.
The wall was mottled, yet from the brick‑built small windows and the surrounding ornaments, one could still glimpse the splendor of years past.
The roof’s eaves projected only a little; it was said to be a style popular among craftsmen a century ago.
These decorations made Wen Qingwan wonder—perhaps the Xiao family’s ancestor had once been a formidable warlord.
Sadly, the Xiao residence declined with each generation; like a river running down, people changed, things altered, and even their noble rank was demoted.
When Wen Qingwan and her husband entered the hall, they saw the Xiao family members slumped at the dining table, waiting for them.
Some of them were already listless, or else so emaciated that only skin clung to bone.
“Everyone’s here, start serving the dishes.” Wen Qingwan called out loudly from the head seat.
“Before the dishes are served, I must reiterate: confiscating everyone’s private property is for the common good. It is to prevent the household from suffering not from scarcity but from inequality, not from poverty but from unrest. Since we are one family, we ought to live in harmony and love. As a loving family, we naturally won’t stir up unfairness or discord, so don’t act like this.”
Everyone turned toward the voice; she looked somewhat delicate, yet her voice was surprisingly loud.
Her whole bearing was noble yet aloof, making others dare not act presumptuously.
Especially since beside her stood a King of Hell figure; outsiders said his heart held valleys and his brows formed mountains and rivers, but those in the marquis’s household knew he was cruel.
Wen Qingwan cast a mind‑reading charm to hear Second Brother’s thoughts—sure enough, not a single word was human speech.
[To hell with ‘for our good’—it’s really for the useless ones in the household!]
[They’ve got no ability, so they deserve to starve. I’ve got ability, so I deserve fine food and drink.]
[Easy for you to say—confiscation is ‘for our good’? That was my hard‑earned private property, saved over years!]
[That’s the money I saved to marry and raise children. If my men weren’t weaker than the King of Hell’s men, who do you think you are?]
[Hmph! You, a mere weak woman, dare to seize my property? The day the King of Hell isn’t by your side, I’ll throw you into a beggars’ den!]
“Seconnd brother Xiao, you curse me in your heart and even want to throw me into a beggars’ den?” Wen Qingwan roared in fury.
“Smack!” She slammed her palm on the great table before her, and the solid, heavy zitan wood split with a crack.
Xiao Jin’s eyes darkened—the little girl actually had inner strength. Yet he lifted his gaze toward Xiao Libo.
“Big… Sister‑in‑law… I… really didn’t curse you.” Xiao Libo stammered in fright, though it wasn’t Wen Qingwan who scared him.
[Mother! Though the King of Hell didn’t speak, his gaze was like a sharp sword, revealing determination and murderous intent toward his prey.]
[I was only thinking that in my heart—does Sister‑in‑law really know, or is she bluffing me?]
[Heavens! The King of Hell is still staring at me—should I admit it or not?]
[If I admit it, I’m doomed. Better not admit—after all, it was only in my heart. Ah, why is my life so bitter!]
“Since Second Brother didn’t curse me in his heart, that’s fine—everyone sit down and eat.”
Wen Qingwan listened to Second Brother’s inner voice and thought him far too cowardly, not worth her effort.
All the marquis household members rose to their feet from Wen Qingwan’s single palm strike, and in unison they looked at her with lingering fear.
Soon, the servants brought in dishes: Eight‑Treasure Blood Duck, Kung Pao Chicken, and Supreme Braised Lion’s Head…
There was also the sauce‑braised pork knuckle, a favorite of many, looking tender and succulent.
The fragrance filled the air, sheer culinary temptation—everyone momentarily forgot their fear and couldn’t help but swallow.
“Let’s begin the meal. No rushing—each table should appoint one person to portion the food.”
Wen Qingwan spoke as she extended her slender jade hand, pointing at Second Brother Xiao: “This table’s dishes will be portioned by Second Brother today. Tomorrow we’ll rotate down the line. If there’s any unfairness, report it to me.”
She hadn’t expected Xiao Jin to arrange so many dishes—her first meal as household head truly carried prestige.
“Yes, Sister‑in‑law.” Seeing the feast, Xiao Libo no longer grumbled in his heart.
Under everyone’s watchful eyes, he dared not show favoritism, dutifully portioning the meat dishes—still fearful that uneven shares might earn Sister‑in‑law’s resentment.
At Wen Qingwan’s table, of course, no portioning was needed—everyone helped themselves as usual.
The Marquis, the Old Madam, and Xiao Litao noticed the table had split, and believed it was just from years of wear.
The Old Madam wore an indigo satin spring blouse embroidered with flowers, a dark‑gray surcoat patterned with gourds, no jewelry, and held several loops of prayer beads in her hand.
Perhaps from daily vegetarian meals and chanting, her face bore a trace of compassion—but when eating the saucy pork knuckle, she was just an ordinary old lady.
The Marquis’s concubines, disregarding their image, ate meat in big bites; the half‑grown children devoured it ravenously.
The entire hall was filled only with the sounds of chewing meat; after all, they were common folk, not bound by much decorum.
Seeing everyone devour their food, Wen Qingwan’s appetite also grew—she ate half a bowl more than usual.
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