To Marry the Elder Brother of One's Late Husband - Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Seduction

Branching out the family line, branching out the family line…

Lu Changyi was currently incapable of performing his marital duties; how was she supposed to bear children and extend the lineage?

Jiang Shu stared at the bowl of medicinal soup, feeling a splitting headache. The memory of the Marchioness Zhao-shi’s warning made it even harder to bear. She did not want to betray Lu Changyi, but she dreaded being divorced and sent back to her maiden home even more. Was there truly no other way besides “borrowing seed” from her brother-in-law?

The tall, lean figure of Lu Changji surfaced in her mind. Her heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t even done anything yet, but the mere thought felt like a profanation of a deity. A man like him—stable as a mountain, deep as an abyss, noble and composed—could she really…?

“Third Young Madam, the soup is getting cold, which is bad for the body. Please drink it,” Nanny Zhou interrupted her thoughts. Jiang Shu’s cheeks flushed as she turned her gaze back to the medicine.

It was a large sea-bowl filled with a deep brown liquid that emitted a thick, bitter stench. Since marrying into the Marquis Manor, Jiang Shu had spent every day immersed in the bitterness of Chinese medicine. It was what she loathed most. However, she had to bow her head under someone else’s roof. She couldn’t refuse, nor could she let anyone discover Lu Changyi’s secret affliction.

Just as she was about to drink, Lu Changyi walked out of the inner chamber with a dark face. He snatched the bowl and slammed it onto the table, snapping at Nanny Zhou, “Why are you giving the Young Madam this medicine? All medicine is part poison. I am already incurably ill; do you want to see her bedridden as well?”

In a household where filial piety was paramount, even the servants of elders were respected. But Lu Changyi was different; his lifelong frailty had made him temperamental and eccentric to everyone except Jiang Shu. Nanny Zhou dared not argue and retreated quickly.

Left alone, Lu Changyi pulled Jiang Shu into his arms, kissing her forehead. “I am the one who has failed you. It’s my poor health that causes you to be criticized. It’s truly a grievance for you.”

Touched by his kindness, Jiang Shu hugged him back, noticing how thin he had become. She felt a wave of guilt—how could she have coveted his elder brother before even trying to find a specialist for him? “Don’t lose heart, Shizi,” she whispered. “Let’s find a doctor specializing in men’s health. Perhaps there is hope.”

…

The Specialist’s Verdict

A specialist, Dr. Qin, was discreetly brought in. After checking Lu Changyi’s pulse, he remained silent for a long time. Finally, he spoke: “The Shizi’s pulse is floating and weak; his kidney qi is severely deficient. He must not force himself into human relations.”

Though the words were cautious, they gave a glimmer of hope. He prescribed a regimen for gradual recovery. Both Jiang Shu and Lu Changyi were overjoyed, treating the news as a guarantee of success.

However, the joy was short-lived. Fang Yu, a senior maid sent by Zhao-shi, arrived with a message: “Third Young Madam, the Madam says that after you finish managing tomorrow’s banquet, you no longer need to come to Yanxi Hall to learn household management.”

This was a bolt from the blue. For a wife of a noble house, the ability to manage the household was her foundation. If she lost this, she would have no standing. Jiang Shu pleaded with Lu Changyi to intercede for her, and he promised to speak to his mother the next day.

…

The Banquet and the “Accident”

The 15th arrived, and the Xinyang Marquis Manor threw a lavish banquet. Carriages lined the street for miles. Jiang Shu was busy managing the logistics, but she kept a sharp eye on her stepmother, Yang-shi, and her half-sister, Jiang Ran.

After the meal, the ladies were led to the back garden to enjoy the flowers. Yang-shi and Jiang Ran blended into the crowd. Near the Spring Breeze Pavilion, a maid whispered something to Yang-shi, who then signaled to Jiang Ran.

Suddenly, Jiang Ran cried out, “Oh! My earring is gone! It must have dropped in the guest room during dinner.”

The Marchioness Zhao-shi, already annoyed by the Jiang family’s lack of grace, told her to go back and find it quickly. Jiang Ran took the opportunity to slip away.

“Where is Grand Secretary Lu?” Jiang Ran whispered to the maid, Qing Yu. “In the pavilion at Bixue Hall, reading,” the maid pointed.

Bixue Hall was a secluded, elegant courtyard designed for quiet reflection. Jiang Ran entered and saw a man in a navy blue robe sitting in the pavilion. Even from a distance, he exuded the majesty and pressure of a high-ranking official. Her heart raced—if she could marry such a man, it would be worth dying for.

She practiced her walking posture, ensuring she looked graceful and accidental. She positioned herself near the water, not too close to look intentional, but close enough to ensure he would see her fall. She had heard Lu Changji was a man of impeccable virtue and high character. If she fell into the water and there were no servants around, he would have to save her—and then, to protect her reputation, he would have to marry her.

“Aiyah!” she cried out, falling into the lake like a fluttering butterfly.

…

The Cold Reality

The plan was perfect in theory, but Jiang Ran underestimated the weight of the water. She began to sink. She waited for Lu Changji to rush to her side, but the water rose past her chin and into her mouth. Terror took over. She forgot her “graceful” image and began to thrash like an octopus, screaming for help.

Lu Changji sat in the pavilion, watching her drown with an expressionless face. To him, it was like watching a stray dog struggle. He didn’t even twitch a brow.

His subordinate, Cheng Yong, stood behind him and whispered, “My Lord, that woman is the Third Young Madam’s sister. Should I go save her?”

Lu Changji gave a light, cold chuckle. “Since she harbors such treacherous intentions, why bother? Even if she drowns, she brings it upon herself.”

As he spoke, he picked up his tea and took a slow, leisurely sip. “This year’s Longjing tea,” he remarked calmly, “doesn’t seem as mellow as previous years.”