The Scholar’s Unconventional Little Wife - Chapter 5

As the days passed, Lin Ruo’an found herself inexplicably troubled by Xu Wangyou’s status as a “child bride.”

In the stillness of the night, she stared at the set of scholar’s tools carved from radish, now shriveling on the table. Her mind began to race with guilt.

Is it too cruel to use one lie (the child bride status) to cover up another (disguising a girl as a boy)?

Xu Wangyou is still confused from her amnesia. When she recovers one day and realizes she’s trapped in this awkward identity, will she hate us to death?

What does this even count as? Taking advantage of someone in their time of need? Even if we haven’t actually done anything… this status is ruining her! It’s destroying a young girl’s reputation and purity for the rest of her life!

But if we hadn’t used this status, how could we have kept her here in the first place? How would we have gotten past the matchmakers? We’d only face more trouble in the future…

Frustrated, she scratched her head, pulling the cloth headband loose. Her gaze drifted out the window, where the side room still glowed faintly. Xu Wangyou seemed to be still awake.

These past few days, the girl had been quiet, doing nothing but helping out and watching Lin Ruo’an write. Her eyes were so pure, as if she were witnessing some strange and profound ritual.

The purer her gaze, the heavier the guilt in Lin Ruo’an’s heart.

Finally, one evening after dinner, Lin Ruo’an couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Zhao Siniang had called Xu Wangyou to the front yard to gather the drying vegetables, leaving only Lin Ruo’an and Xu Fenggu in the courtyard. The moonlight was beautiful, making the puddles on the ground shimmer.

“Mother,” Lin Ruo’an took a deep breath and walked to the kitchen door, her voice lowered. “About Wangyou… the whole ‘child bride’ thing, I just feel… it’s not right.”

Xu Fenggu didn’t stop scrubbing the pot. “What’s not right? Weren’t you the one who went along with it back then?”

“That was… that was just a temporary measure!” Lin Ruo’an said urgently. “But it ruins her reputation! She doesn’t know anything about it now, but what if she remembers later, or… or if she meets someone she truly loves one day? Aren’t we just holding her back?”

Xu Fenggu stopped, tossed the brush into the pot, and turned around, wiping her wet hands on her apron. The moonlight lit up half her face, obscuring her expression, but her tone had already regained its usual sharpness. “Holding her back? Lin Ruo’an, have you read so many books that you’ve muddled your own brain?”

She took a menacing step forward. “If I hadn’t said it then, do you think she could have stayed here peacefully? And now you’re lecturing me about reputation? What good is a reputation? Can you eat it? Can you spend it? In this world, a girl with no known origin and a pretty face, without a proper place in this family, would be snatched up by some long-lost relative tomorrow, or worse, targeted by some filthy scoundrel. Believe me.”

Lin Ruo’an was left speechless. Her mother’s words were undeniably true, grounded in the harsh reality of survival.

“But…” she struggled to continue, “It’s not fair to her. And… and I…” Her face flushed, the rest of her sentence catching in her throat.

Xu Fenggu narrowed her eyes, scanning her daughter from head to toe. Suddenly, as if a light bulb had gone off, she let out a scoff and leaned in close, her voice dropping to a near whisper as she dropped a bombshell:

“Oh—I see. That’s what you’re so conflicted about.” Her gaze flicked momentarily to Lin Ruo’an’s lower body. “Lin Ruo’an, listen to me. It’s a fact that you don’t have a cunt. But just because you don’t have one doesn’t mean you don’t have hands, a mouth, or a heart!”

Boom!

Lin Ruo’an felt all the blood rush to her head. Her ears buzzed, and her face burned hot enough to fry an egg. She gaped, unable to utter a single word. Her mind went completely blank, leaving only her mother’s wild words echoing frantically.

No… [censored]… but not without hands…

Mother! Are you really my birth mother?! How could you say something so blunt?!

And how could you say something so explicit with the same grave tone you’d use to discuss a life-or-death crisis?!

Xu Fenggu huffed at her daughter’s thunderstruck expression, seemingly satisfied that the point had been driven home. Her tone softened slightly. “What I mean is, you can’t give her what ordinary couples give right now, but you can offer her protection, stability, and a home. As for the future…”

She glanced toward the side room, her voice dropping. “When that child recovers, regains her memories, or forms her own thoughts, she can decide for herself whether to stay or go, whom she loves, and what kind of life she wants to live. We… cannot choose for her for the rest of her life.”

The weight of those words cooled the boiling blood in Lin Ruo’an’s veins. She looked at her mother’s profile, which seemed weary in the moonlight, and suddenly realized that this woman, always so bustling and spirited, carried burdens and considerations in her heart that were perhaps deeper and heavier than she had ever imagined.

“I…” Lin Ruo’an’s throat felt dry. “I didn’t mean that… I just feel that we can’t bind her with the label of a ‘child bride.’ It’s disrespectful to her.”

“Then don’t take it seriously.” Xu Fenggu turned around, picked up the brush again, and her tone returned to its usual crispness. “Outwardly, it’s a plausible excuse that can ward off most trouble. Inwardly, she’s just the sister we picked up and need to protect, or… whatever you want her to be. Just get along with her as you should. Treating her with sincerity is more important than any empty title.”

She paused, then added, “As for what outsiders say, damn them. We’re the ones living our lives.”

Lin Ruo’an fell silent for a long time before slowly nodding. Her mother’s words were crude, direct, and even a bit scandalous, but they had genuinely enlightened her. In life, survival and sincerity were sometimes more important than a hollow reputation.

Just then, the sound of light footsteps echoed from the corridor.

Xu Wangyou returned, carrying a small basket of dried vegetables and humming a cheerful tune. She stopped at the kitchen door, her clear eyes darting between the two women.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Lin Ruo’an, still flustered, wondered how much of their conversation the girl had overheard. Xu Fenggu, however, already looked composed. “Nothing. I was just discussing something with your sister Ruo’an. You can put the dried vegetables on that shelf over there.”

“Oh,” Xu Wangyou said. She walked over, set down the basket, and glanced at Lin Ruo’an’s still-flushed cheeks before turning to Xu Fenggu. Then, with unexpected earnestness, she said, “I like it here.”

Both Lin Ruo’an and Xu Fenggu froze in surprise.

Xu Wangyou seemed to struggle with expressing herself. She spoke slowly, carefully choosing her words, but enunciating each one clearly. “I have food to eat, a place to sleep, and it’s not cold. Aunt Fenggu teaches me how to do things, Sister Siniang gives me candy, and Ruo’an…” She looked at Lin Ruo’an, her gaze as clear as water, “gave me a name.”

She gave a small smile, then repeated herself with even greater conviction, “I like it here. I like being with everyone. This place… is good.”

There were no flowery words, no profound revelations, just the simplest of statements.

Yet it carried more weight than any oath.

Lin Ruo’an looked into her eyes and saw no trace of grievance or resentment, only a serene acceptance and contentment. To her, the label of “child bride” didn’t matter at all. What truly mattered was this place, where she could eat her fill, sleep warm, and be accepted, and the people here.

Xu Fenggu was the first to snap out of it. She waved her hand dismissively. “Alright, alright, you silly girl. Hurry up and get settled so you can get some rest. We have to get up early tomorrow.”

Xu Wangyou nodded, stole another glance at Lin Ruo’an, and then turned to head back to her own room.

The courtyard fell quiet once more, leaving only the chirping of insects and the distant, faint bark of a dog.

Lin Ruo’an stood there as the night breeze brushed her face, carrying away the last traces of her restless heat. The tangled mess in her heart seemed to unravel, smoothed out by Xu Wangyou’s simple words and her mother’s blunt reason.

Titles were empty, and the opinions of outsiders were distant.

The peace before her was real, and the growing mutual reliance and affection were tangible.

As for the future…

She glanced at the window of Xu Wangyou’s room, which had already grown dark.

When she recovers, I’ll decide for myself.

Until then, this was enough.

“Still standing there?” Xu Fenggu’s voice broke her train of thought. “Don’t you have school tomorrow? Get your lazy self to bed!”

“Oh… right!” Lin Ruo’an snapped back to reality, touching her still-flushed ears as she hurried back to her own room.

She closed the door, leaned her back against the panel, and couldn’t help but smile again, shaking her head.

Madam Xu, you really have a way with words, don’t you?

And Xu Wangyou… wanting to be with everyone.

Fine.

Let’s just live our lives together, then.

On the desk, the radish-carved brush rest lay quietly beside the inkstone, glowing softly in the moonlight.

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