The Bride Who Brought Him Luck - Chapter 3

Song Yiting seemed genuinely angry. He ignored me for quite some time.

Trying to win him over, I said, “The man who read my birth chart told me wealth and honor were in my fate. I suppose they’ll come from you.”

“You believe that swindler’s nonsense?”

“I do.” I tugged gently at his sleeve and tried to charm him between sniffles. “Husband, I’m hungry. Could you please give me a bite to eat first? I’ll need my strength to enjoy all that wealth and honor.”

His stern expression softened. He gestured toward the table. “There are pastries there. Her Majesty the Empress Dowager sent them. They’re still fresh.”

“Pastries from the palace? I’ve never had any!” I released his sleeve, sprang down from the bed, and fetched the plate.

After a few bites, I noticed him watching me. I offered him a piece. “Here.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want any.”

With my cheeks stuffed full, I mumbled, “Try one. They’re delicious. How did they get soft rose filling at this time of year? It’s so good!”

I bit open the pastry he had refused. The rose filling inside was a tempting red.

Suddenly he said, “Perhaps I will try it.”

As I searched the plate for another rose pastry, he added, “The half in your hand will do.”

“I’ve bitten it.”

“I don’t mind.”

Palace food really was excellent. I ate a great deal, and Song Yiting joined me. My belly was round and full, and I began to doze where I sat on the bed.

He could not bear to watch me nod off like that. He shifted to make room. “If you won’t go next door, sleep here.”

“I can’t,” I murmured drowsily. “You haven’t taken your medicine.”

“You won’t sleep unless I take it?”

“Mm! Mother says taking care of my husband is my duty…”

Song Yiting muttered something. When I listened closely, I realized he was complaining about how much my mother had to say. Perhaps a full stomach had improved his mood. He called to the servant keeping watch on the veranda. “Warm the medicine and bring it in.”

The people outside had never expected him to ask for it himself. A servant carefully brought in the warmed bowl and bent to feed him, but he refused.

“I’m not so useless that I can’t hold a bowl,” he snapped.

The servant was delighted to let him drink on his own, set the bowl down, and made a quick escape.

I rested my chin in my hands and watched him drain it in one go.

The medicinal broth smelled intensely bitter. I wrinkled my nose and felt a little sorry for him. “Bitter, isn’t it?”

He gave me a perfunctory little “Mm.”

I took a piece of malt candy from my sleeve and held it to his lips. “Eat this. Then it won’t taste bitter.”

I was a little embarrassed. “I hid it in my sleeve to eat in the bridal sedan. But I was so nervous on the way here that I forgot.”

With the candy in his mouth, he asked, “What made you nervous?”

“A girl would naturally be nervous in her bridal sedan. I kept thinking, what if my husband turns out to be hideous? Whatever will I do?”

“And now? Do you think he’s ugly?”

The spot he had vacated was warm. Too tired to sit up, I lay down there and nestled beside him. He smelled strongly of herbal medicine too, and somehow the scent made me sleepy.

I sniffed and moved closer, resting against his robe. “Not ugly. So handsome, so handsome.”

As I drifted off, I dimly heard him sigh again. “What good is that? I’m fated to die a paralytic in this bed.”

“But people do get better.”

“Do they?”

“They do.”

…