Ying Wutu had a restless night in the cold, dark, drafty woodshed, with no warm and comfortable bedding, only cold, hard firewood. Sleep was hard to come by, and he found himself longing for the wicked woman’s embrace.
Despite her cruelty and the various ways she tormented him, her embrace was warm and secure.
Before this, Ying Wutu had never been held by a woman while sleeping. Although being held by the wicked woman made him both nervous and scared, there was also a faint, different kind of emotion beneath these feelings.
Shaking his head to dispel thoughts of last night, he looked at the broom discarded on the ground, feeling troubled.
Squatting down, he picked up the broom, managing to hold it between his palms since it wasn’t very heavy.
However…
His fingers lacked strength, causing the broom to slip from his grasp with each sweep.
How could he work like this?
It was the middle of winter, and the yard had no difficult leaves to sweep, no snow from last night, only some dust. After pondering for a while, he squatted down again, holding the broom’s head with both hands, sweeping lightly.
This reduced the noise significantly, holding the broom shorter also made it easier to control. Additionally, sweeping dust didn’t require much force.
However, this posture made his back ache.
But it was better than waking the wicked woman and being punished.
The yard was large; he swept from east to west. His legs were numb from squatting, so he stood up to stretch his ankles, but couldn’t lift his legs too high because of the iron ball attached to his ankle.
He put down the broom, looking at the iron ball…
The ball had ended up in the dust pile he had just swept, making the little rabbit drawing on it “dusty.”
He felt a bit disappointed and strangely guilty.
The wicked woman had drawn the rabbit, saying it was a gift.
He shouldn’t let it get dirty.
He moved a few steps forward, lifting the iron ball out of the dust, and used his palm to wipe the rabbit clean.
The rabbit’s face was clean again.
Looking at the dust on his hand, he felt ridiculous.
A gift?
This iron ball, these chains, were instruments of torture!
Had he gone mad from the wicked woman’s abuse?
Annoyed at himself, he picked up the broom, sweeping the yard with renewed vigor.
As if the dust had offended him.
But no one had offended him.
He swept the remaining half of the yard in one go.
His back ached more, his legs hurt.
Panting, he wanted to massage his lower back with his fists, but his hands were too weak. Instead, he tried to comfort himself.
He patted his head, imitating the wicked woman’s tone, whispering, “Good.”
Just like when she patted his head yesterday, even mimicking her voice perfectly after years of disguising as a woman.
He didn’t know why, but it comforted him.
Looking at the wicked woman’s door, the intricately carved double doors were closed. He had stayed there the night before; her bed was so comfortable and warm.
But now, he’d only have the cold, broken woodshed.
Wondering if she was awake, he stood holding the broom, staring at the closed door.
Suddenly, it creaked open.
Startled, he quickly lowered his head, nervously sweeping the already clean yard. In his haste, the broom slipped from his hand.
He kept his head down, not daring to look. When he bent to pick up the broom, he saw two identical hems of robes pass by.
Two identical men, crying, walked away, limping.
They looked injured.
Ying Wutu shuddered, staring at the closed door, dreading the thought of what had happened.
No wonder the wicked woman said she’d wait until he was a bit healthier before “enjoying” him, fearing she might play him to death. Seeing her sleep with two men last night showed her energy was boundless, more than ordinary men could handle.
And judging by the way those two walked, they were seriously injured.
The wicked woman was as violent in bed as out.
Thinking of the medicine the fifth prince had given him, Ying Wutu sighed.
At that moment, the door opened again.
He peeked, seeing it was the wicked woman, and quickly turned away, pretending to sweep the already clean yard.
Jiang Shouzhuo stretched in the sunlight, seeing the little rabbit sweeping at the air. She laughed and went back inside.
She just needed to confirm he was still alive.
She hadn’t slept well last night, not because of the twins, as she hadn’t done much with them. They were just there to warm the bed.
Her father had advised her to treat her men equally, to avoid jealousy.
Having seen Xiang Xiao Jun and Guai Xiao Jun after returning home, she spent the night with the remaining two.
These twins, Zhu Yuan and Yu Run, known as Zhu Xiao Jun and Yu Xiao Jun after joining the household, had fallen out of favor. Their once-proud physiques had withered from months of a vegetarian diet. Seeing their shrunken muscles, she lost interest, thinking of the “Jiang” character she’d carved on the little rabbit’s chest. Reluctantly, she kept them to warm the bed.
Her double bed could only fit two, so she alternated hugging the brothers, half the night each on the floor.
Despite suggesting they sleep on the soft couch outside, they insisted on the floor, and she couldn’t convince them otherwise.
Nothing happened that night, but Jiang Shouzhuo couldn’t stop thinking of the little rabbit’s muscles.
What a pity.
In the morning, she told the twins to eat well, to avoid rumors of the Jiang household starving its men.
They nodded, leaving.
As they did, Jiang Shouzhuo saw the little rabbit in the yard, so she opened the door, openly observing him.
He had changed into gray coarse linen clothes.
Even the ordinary servants wore warm cotton clothes, but as a lowly slave, Ying Wutu had only thin linen, barely warm.
Still, Jiang Shouzhuo thought he looked better in coarse linen than the twins did in silk.
Her gaze lingered on his chest.
Though through clothes, she imagined the “Jiang” character.
Dressed for court, she clenched her fist. The little rabbit seemed fully recovered, able to sweep the yard.
Having spent equal time with her four men, tonight she’d enjoy her “spoils.”
Opening the door again, the little rabbit was gone.
Where had he gone so quickly?
Dragging the iron ball, he ran like a rabbit.
Light-footed, she left for court, excited for the evening.
She remembered she wasn’t usually driven by desire; her four men often served as pillows.
But the little rabbit made her heart race.
A seductive creature, since their first battle.
Ying Wutu had been to court, recognizing the court robes.
Seeing the wicked woman dressed for court, he quickly left to avoid her.
He feared her teasing, even verbally, so he limped away, dragging the iron ball, heading to the kitchen.
The kitchen was bustling with cooks preparing breakfast for the entire household.
Standing at the door, he went unnoticed.
He shrank, realizing his situation.
The cooks prepared breakfast for everyone, except him.
Shaking his head, he went to the well.
The housekeeper had instructed him to fill ten barrels daily.
Breathing in the kitchen’s aromas, his stomach growled.
So hungry…
Shaking his head, he tried ignoring the enticing smell.
But he couldn’t help thinking.
During his recovery, he had three meals a day, with meat, rice, vegetables, and rich soup, better than in the army. That’s why his wounds and illness healed quickly.
But today, it seemed, there’d be no food.
Ying Wutu knew he couldn’t finish all the tasks, so he decided to do as much as possible to lessen the punishment.
He didn’t even know what punishment awaited him tonight. The wicked woman had said it would be “enjoyable.”
Sigh, the wicked woman.
He dropped the bucket into the well, unable to grip the winch properly, so he pressed down with his forearm, turning it only halfway each time.
After a few turns, he lost strength, accidentally letting go. The winch spun quickly, and the bucket fell back into the well, splashing water that hit his face, making him feel even more aggrieved.
The wicked woman had crippled his hands and now forced him to do such laborious tasks.
However…
He didn’t want to be punished by the wicked woman.
Her arrangements were likely a test, thinking he couldn’t manage it.
But he would prove her wrong!
Even with crippled hands, he could still fetch water!
He knew how to do it now!
Ying Wutu mustered his resolve, though it was only for fetching water and not for some grander cause.
This time, he only filled the bucket halfway, using his arm to turn the winch and lift the bucket. As the bucket reached the well’s edge, he hooked the handle with his arm, lifting it onto the ground. Seeing the water barrel five steps away, he carried the bucket using his arm.
Though his fingers lacked strength, his arms still had some.
Thankfully, only his hands were crippled…
But a new problem arose. Using his arm, he could lift the bucket but not pour it. So he found a water scoop.
Though his fingers were weak, he could still lift the scoop, pouring water bit by bit into the barrel.
Mission accomplished.
Ying Wutu wiped his face with his sleeve, smiling smugly.
The wicked woman probably thought he couldn’t fetch water, but here he was, having done it!
When she found out, she’d be surprised. Maybe she’d pat his head again, praising him as “smart.”
She’d praised him before, something he’d never experienced in his life.
Or maybe she’d pat his head and say “good,” which would feel nice too.
He shivered suddenly, wondering why he was daydreaming again!
Better get back to work. It took ten half-buckets to fill a barrel, and he had ten barrels to fill. No time for daydreaming.
By the second barrel, he was struggling.
His forearm was bruised from pressing the winch, forcing him to find new spots to push.
By the fifth barrel, his arms were covered in bruises.
It hurt…
Ying Wutu pressed his lips together, his body aching and tired. Leaning against the well, he slowly sat on the ground, needing a rest, or he’d collapse from exhaustion.
He moved to a corner, turning his back to the busy cooks, and slowly rolled up his sleeves, staring at the bruises on his skin.
He gently blew on the bruises; they hurt so much…
But he still had five more barrels to fill, and he felt utterly exhausted.
As he tended to his bruised arms, the housekeeper approached the kitchen from outside.
Ying Wutu hadn’t seen her at first, only heard her voice.
“The young mistress has returned. You can take breakfast to her room,” the housekeeper said.
Ying Wutu looked up, quickly lowering his rolled-up sleeves and preparing to continue fetching water. The thought crossed his mind—had the wicked woman returned from court?
After instructing the kitchen staff, the housekeeper headed towards the well.
Ying Wutu noticed her approach from the corner of his eye, swallowing nervously.
The housekeeper merely circled the water barrels before heading to the dining hall.
The dining hall was next to the kitchen. In the Jiang household, only the three masters and four little princes had their meals delivered to their rooms. Everyone else ate together in the dining hall.
Servants in cotton clothes hurried to the dining hall, queued for food, and found tables to eat at.
Ying Wutu continued fetching water while observing the servants coming and going.
He didn’t see the ten soldiers he’d requested or any other Ying captives.
Had his sisters not arrived at the Jiang household yet? Or were they also given heavy tasks, unable to eat until they finished?
He kept fetching water, and when the servants had finished breakfast and dispersed, he cautiously approached the dining hall.
Even with light steps, the iron ball on his ankle made his presence known.
There was no leftover food in the dining hall; every meal was made per head.
There was no food for him.
Sighing, he returned to fetching water.
By noon, the cooks were preparing lunch, and he had finally filled ten barrels.
His arms were bruised and battered, with no unmarked skin left. Exhausted, aching, and hungry, he had no strength left to stand, so he sat by the well to rest.
The housekeeper passed by on her way to lunch, seeing Ying Wutu resting by the well. She approached and asked, “Finished the work?”
Seeing the housekeeper, Ying Wutu quickly replied, “Not yet, but I’m too hungry to continue. Can I have some food?”
She didn’t answer, just turned and left.
Ying Wutu bowed his head, guessing this was the wicked woman’s arrangement.
After everyone finished lunch, he slowly stood, drank some water to fill his stomach, and went to the kitchen’s corner.
There was a chopping block and an axe there.
He tried repeatedly, but couldn’t grasp the axe, even attempting to split wood with his fingers, which also failed.
Giving up on chopping wood, he wondered how many punishments awaited for this failure.
Dragging his weary feet, he headed to the prince’s quarters.
Yesterday, the housekeeper had only shown him the way from the entrance, not allowing him inside or meeting the four concubines.
Approaching, he heard laughter.
Four men were in the yard, basking in the sun and playing mahjong.
A white cat slept under the table.
Cautiously, Ying Wutu approached, trying to make his steps as light as possible, but the iron ball announced his presence.
All four men stopped and looked towards the sound, seeing the sneaking Ying Wutu.
Immediately, they stood, even Xiang Xiao Jun, who was about to win, pushed his tiles aside and ran first.
Standing at the yard’s entrance, Ying Wutu hesitated to enter.
What did the wicked woman’s little concubines want?
Surely they wouldn’t beat him like she did?
They surrounded him, examining him closely from head to toe, wishing they could strip his clothes and scrutinize him further.
“So this is the new man the mistress acquired. I heard he’s a general from Ying.”
“He’s definitely taller than us, even taller than Little Guai.”
“They say tall men have round bottoms, but you can’t tell with him dressed like this.”
Surrounded and scrutinized, Ying Wutu felt like a performing monkey on the street. He was nervous but didn’t dare speak, lowering his head as much as possible. Hearing them discuss his physique made him tense up even more.
But he needn’t have worried; they didn’t dare touch him.
Though he was dressed as a servant and chained like a dog, he was someone who could sleep in the mistress’s bed, holding significant weight in her eyes.
Moreover, the household forbade private fights and casual beatings, so their curiosity was limited to observing.
“Don’t keep your head down; let us see your face.”
Ying Wutu refused to lift his head, but since he was taller, they could see his face anyway.
“He does look good. Wasn’t he supposed to be a soldier? How does he keep such a face while fighting?”
“Stop looking at his face!” Xiang Xiao Jun suddenly exclaimed, squatting down and pointing at the iron ball trailing behind Ying Wutu. “Come look at this—isn’t this the mistress’s work?”
“It’s the mistress’s writing! There’s text too… Little Guai can read, let him see.”
Guai Xiaojun approached and squatted, reading the words on the iron ball, “The first three words are the mistress’s name. It says—mistress’s exclusive little rabbit slave.”
He dared not directly utter the mistress’s name, only reading it this way.
The five of them collectively gasped.
Ying Wutu’s gasp was out of shame.
The four concubines felt envy and jealousy.
Mistress’s exclusive.
What an honor!
“Will the mistress still favor us…”
“Will this place become a cold palace…”
They huddled together, bursting into tears.
The white cat under the table remained unmoved, continuing to sleep peacefully, accustomed to their frequent outbursts.
Ying Wutu was stunned.
He hadn’t done anything, hadn’t even spoken.
Why were they crying?
It wasn’t his fault.
Would the wicked woman find an excuse to bully him again?
And…
He was here to work. Seeing their endless crying, he couldn’t help but cough lightly and interrupt, “Uh… I’m here to wash clothes. Please bring out the dirty clothes.”
The crying stopped abruptly.
The housekeeper had informed them yesterday that the new servant would be washing their clothes.
But none had brought their dirty clothes.
Instead, Guai Xiao Jun fetched a chair, placing it behind Ying Wutu and moving the brazier from the mahjong table.
They each brought their chairs from the table, sitting around Ying Wutu in a circle.
They had already discussed this.
“Sit down,” Xiang Xiao Jun said.
Ying Wutu looked at the chair behind him, not understanding, repeating, “I need to wash clothes.”
“We have no dirty clothes, but we have questions for you.”
Ying Wutu thought, no dirty clothes meant he was done with the task?
“Does your kingdom have any special techniques for winning women’s hearts?”
“What does the mistress do with you? Tell us.”
“How many times with the mistress?”
“Any movements in your belly? When was your last period?”
Biting his lip, Ying Wutu didn’t want to answer these shameful questions.
Besides, the wicked woman had only bullied him, not done anything more.
“Just share with us. Then we won’t need you to wash our clothes anymore. You can come in the afternoon to rest and get warmem by the fire.”
They saw his red, cold hands and thin, rough clothes, knowing he must be freezing.
The household rules stated that slaves couldn’t enter the masters’ rooms, though he could enter the mistress’s room, as she could break the rules. But the little princes didn’t dare break them.
Ying Wutu slowly extended his fingers, each one red and stiff from the cold, especially his broken right pinky, which was completely numb.
Lowering his hands, he brought them closer to the brazier, the warmth soothing his palms and fingers.
The four didn’t rush him, watching him warm his hands and waiting for him to speak.
But he remained silent.
He had nothing to say.
Until the white cat woke from its nap, stretching lazily, its tail forming a question mark as it slowly approached them.
Circling the group, the cat finally chose Ying Wutu, jumping onto his lap and curling into a ball.
“Huh! Did I see that right? The cat likes him?”
“Do you have some charm? Even the aloof cat likes you.”
“Teach us a bit. We won’t trouble you.”
The household forbade private exchanges, even their mahjong games had no stakes. Otherwise, they would have bribed this slave with silver.
“Speak up.”
“We’re all the mistress’s men. Just share a bit.”
Ying Wutu remained silent, having nothing to share.
The four little princes sighed, Xiang Xiaojun waving his hand, “Fine, don’t tell us. We won’t share with you later either, hmph!”
“Let’s get back to our game.”
They moved their chairs back to the table, taking the brazier too, and resumed their game in the sun.
Ying Wutu was puzzled. He expected them to make things difficult for him or even beat him, but nothing happened.
He didn’t know they were resentful, thinking him selfish for not sharing, but they recognized he was favored by the mistress. No one dared bully her favorite.
That would show disobedience to the mistress.
Seeing them absorbed in their game, Ying Wutu quietly said, “Since there are no clothes to wash, I’ll take my leave.”
He wanted to rest in the woodshed.
No one responded.
He whispered to the cat on his lap, “I have to go. I’ll visit you again if I can.”
The cat flicked its tail as if it understood, then jumped down to sleep under the table again.
Brushing the cat hair off his pants, Ying Wutu moved the chair back, then slowly walked to the woodshed, dragging the heavy iron ball.
No food today, he had worked all morning on an empty stomach, leaving his arms bruised. With the rare free afternoon, he rested to conserve strength.
Wondering how the wicked woman would torment him tonight.
Likely with whips again.
His previous whip wounds had healed, but who knew if there would be medicine this time.
Would she play the guessing game with him again?
Lying on the woodshed floor, his mind was filled with thoughts of her.
At dusk, the housekeeper opened the woodshed door again.
His head was spinning, not from sleep but hunger.
“Finished the tasks for today?” the housekeeper asked.
Weakly, Ying Wutu replied, “I swept the yard, fetched the water, and washed the clothes, but I couldn’t chop the wood…”
“Then it’s not done. Come, follow me for punishment,” the housekeeper said expressionlessly.
Leaning against the wall, Ying Wutu slowly stood. His ankle hurt, though this iron ball was lighter than the last, it would still chafe his skin in a few days.
Slowly following the housekeeper, he recognized the path to the wicked woman’s courtyard.
Desperate to escape, but where could he go?
And deep down, he wanted to see her.
At the door, the housekeeper stopped after opening it.
“Go in. The mistress will punish you personally.”
Ying Wutu climbed the steps, nerves mounting. As he crossed the threshold, the iron ball thudded behind him, and the door slammed shut.
At the sound, his legs gave way, and he knelt.
“You’re obedient now,” Jiang Shouzhuo said, sitting grandly.
Ying Wutu trembled with fear, yet a thought crept in—did she just call me “obedient” again?
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