“After Shedding My Armor, I Await Marriage” Chapter 83: Extra 2.6

Snowflakes were swirling down. The maid added more charcoal to the brazier, then silently withdrew, her face full of worry and caution.

Just as she closed the door behind her, Mu Qingyao’s voice came from inside: “How could you treat me like this?”

The maid trembled all over, lowering her head as she quickly left, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.

Inside, Mu Qingyao looked at Wen Qize, her eyes red-rimmed, her face pale, and her gaze trembling with a glimmer of unshed tears. Her delicate lips were pressed into a thin line, her entire being exuding an indescribable sorrow and grief.

Across from her, Wen Qize kept his head lowered, wanting to reach out to hold Mu Qingyao’s sleeve but lacking the courage. His face was full of regret, yet his trembling lips couldn’t form any words to ask for her forgiveness.

After all, he had gone too far this time. Even though Mu Qingyao had repeatedly asked him for assurances, he had always promised her. But in the end, he couldn’t restrain himself and went back on his word, doing the very thing she had feared most. He didn’t blame her for being so furious; he even blamed himself. Why hadn’t he kept his promise? Why had he betrayed the trust Mu Qingyao had placed in him?

Why, when he had control of his own body, had he let himself lose control so foolishly?

Mu Qingyao sniffed, and Wen Qize hurriedly picked up a handkerchief to offer it to her, but she brushed his hand away with a smack: “Don’t touch me.”

Wen Qize was utterly panicked now. He grabbed the manuscript on the table and said, “I’ll go change it. This time, I swear I won’t kill off the character you love. Will that make things right?”

Mu Qingyao said sadly, “It’s too late. In my heart, he’s already dead.”

After speaking, Mu Qingyao picked up the manuscript and read through it once more. This time, she was much calmer and even sighed, “Perhaps, for him, this ending is a kind of fulfillment.”

Wen Qize draped a coat over Mu Qingyao’s shoulders. “Exactly. When I was writing, I felt that this character had to die. If he stayed alive, he wouldn’t have had as brilliant a story as he did in death.”

Mu Qingyao retorted, “Then why did you promise me you wouldn’t kill him?”

Seeing Mu Qingyao’s anger gradually subside, Wen Qize relaxed. “I thought I could find a brilliant way for him to live, but the moment I started writing, it was as if they came to life on their own. It wasn’t me writing them anymore—they were living their own lives, and I was simply recording them.”

This sentiment made Mu Qingyao especially envious.

The second volume of the “Story of Boiling Rain” was finally complete, and the manuscript she had just finished reading was the last chapter of that volume.

Since Wen Qize wrote these stories in his spare time after returning home from work, progress depended on whether he had free time and inspiration. He even created two versions of each chapter—an unedited one and another with much of the steamy content removed. As a result, it took a long time to complete the second volume.

Over these months, Wen Qize would write a bit, and she would read a bit. The more she read, the more she felt an urge to join him in writing.

Of course, she would never touch “Story of Boiling Rain” again, so she came up with a new story.

The new story was better than the original “Story of Boiling Rain”, and it was shorter, taking her only a month to complete.

Since it was her second time writing, this one turned out much better than the first. After setting it aside for a few months and then rereading it, Mu Qingyao found that it held her interest enough to finish it without getting bored.

But it still wasn’t as captivating as she wanted it to be.

She had wondered if the story’s genre might have limited her creativity, so she asked Wen Qize to “polish” it for her. Then she understood: the problem wasn’t the story; she simply didn’t have the talent for writing stories.

So whenever Wen Qize talked about his insights into writing stories, Mu Qingyao felt particularly envious, sensing that it was a level she could never reach.

But it was fine; everyone had their strengths and weaknesses. Wen Qize had a greater talent for writing stories, but her skill in mathematical studies far surpassed his.

Over the past year, she had been both teaching students at the academy and continuing her own studies, attending classes with older students. The material was becoming increasingly difficult, yet she felt perfectly at ease. Many problems that Wen Qize had to review several times to understand, she could grasp at a glance.

After putting away the manuscript, the maid returned carrying a meal box. She was happy, thinking, Finally, they’re not arguing anymore.

At the same time, the maid was puzzled. These two usually got along so well and had such good tempers. Yet recently, for some reason, the Young Madam had become particularly quick to anger. Thankfully, most of her irritation was directed at the heir apparent, and it would come and go quickly.

The maid set out breakfast, and Wen Qize led Mu Qingyao to the table.

Because of the cold weather, Princess An wanted the family to eat more nourishing foods, so she instructed the kitchen to prepare new dishes. As a result, breakfast had been especially lavish these past few days.

But Mu Qingyao didn’t have much of an appetite. Even when she forced herself, she only managed half a piece of sour date cake and didn’t touch the hot, fragrant fish porridge, saying the smell was too fishy.

After eating, she went back to bed to sleep. Wen Qize, having checked that she wasn’t running a fever, decided to leave her be.

It was Princess An who, upon hearing about Mu Qingyao’s unusual behavior, quickly sent for the imperial physician from the palace. After taking her pulse, the physician confirmed that she was indeed pregnant—with twins.

Mu Qingyao would probably never forget Wen Qize’s expression at that moment. He looked as if he were dreaming with his eyes open, completely dazed and bewildered.

After that, Prince An’s household was in an uproar. Princess An busied herself with all kinds of arrangements, while the prince tried to maintain his composure but couldn’t hide his excitement at becoming a grandfather.

Mu Qingyao’s younger brother even came by to assure her that he’d definitely play with his little nephew or niece in the future, only to be tossed out by Wen Qize once again by the back of his collar.

Worried that Wen Qize might be too clumsy and roll over onto Mu Qingyao’s belly in his sleep, Princess An arranged for them to sleep separately.

Wen Qize, unwilling to go to another room, simply had a mattress laid out on the couch in their room.

Thus, the spacious bed was left to Mu Qingyao alone.

She thought that wasn’t so bad; this way, even in summer, she wouldn’t wake up from the heat.

But in the middle of the night, Mu Qingyao woke up and felt the empty space beside her. She wasn’t used to not finding anyone there, so she sat up, lifted the thick bed curtains, and called softly, “Huizhi.”

Wen Qize wasn’t used to it either and was still awake. Hearing her call, he immediately got up from the couch, walked over to the bed, and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Mu Qingyao absently picked at the bed curtain and looked up at him, saying, “Cold.”

Wen Qize didn’t catch her meaning and turned to head out of the room. “I’ll go call someone to add more charcoal, but we’ll need to crack the window a bit. Make sure you pull the curtains together so you don’t catch a draft.”

But Mu Qingyao quickly grabbed his sleeve. “Adding more charcoal and opening the window will just make it cold again, won’t it?”

Wen Qize replied, “No, it won’t. I’ll only open it a little. It’ll stay warm.”

Mu Qingyao insisted, “I don’t think it will.”

Wen Qize paused, then finally understood her. Changing his answer, he said, “Right… maybe it won’t stay warm. In that case, I could just get into bed. We’d be warmer together.”

Mu Qingyao nodded seriously, “That’s a good idea.”

Wen Qize lifted the bed curtains and climbed in.

He didn’t hug Mu Qingyao right away; he warmed himself up first, then reached out to hold her close.

After he hugged her, he couldn’t help but laugh, only to be kicked by Mu Qingyao, who had indirectly hinted at wanting to be held.

And after kicking him, Mu Qingyao added, “You were the one who insisted on coming up here.”

Wen Qize replied, “Alright. If Mother asks, I’ll just say it was my decision alone and that you had no choice.”

Satisfied, Mu Qingyao finally settled down to sleep.

…

With the academy on break for the New Year holiday, Mu Qingyao was spending more time at home. Each day, besides following the physician’s advice to walk around more and soak up some sun, she would also take some time to read a new storybook.

However, her concentration wasn’t great, so she often found herself unable to get into it. She ended up asking Wen Qize, who was also free, to read it to her.

And whether by coincidence or fate, there was a scene in the story Wen Qize read to her that went like this:

It was about a newly married woman who had forgotten her husband’s name after the wedding. To avoid being found out, she kept trying to discover his name while pretending to know it in front of him and others.

Wen Qize laughed several times while reading, commenting that only a storybook would dare to write something like that.

Mu Qingyao: “…”

Mu Qingyao could hardly contain herself. At any other time, she would never have dared to mention it, but perhaps now, with two babies growing inside her, she felt as if she had the courage of three people, making her bolder than usual.

She took the storybook from Wen Qize’s hands and, after some preamble, finally confessed to him that she, too, had once not remembered his name.

Wen Qize was dumbfounded. After confirming multiple times that she wasn’t joking, he asked, “Then when did you finally learn my name?”

Mu Qingyao replied, “It was that day, when we were preparing to visit the Gu family, and you were called away to Mingshan Street.”

Wen Qize stood up, paced around the room, and then came back to playfully pinch her nose, growling, “Just wait. Once you’ve given birth, I’ll make you pay for this.”

Mu Qingyao was completely at ease now. With so much time between now and then, Wen Qize’s anger would probably have faded, so there was no need to worry.

The two put aside their little grievances and continued enjoying the holiday break.

When they first found out about the pregnancy, Wen Qize was very uneasy. But after two months, he had become accustomed to it and even began to show faint signs of a strict father.

So when Mu Qingyao used the babies as an excuse to ask for something, Wen Qize’s response was unyieldingly cold.

For example, one day, Mu Qingyao suddenly craved the fruit pastries from Jinchan Pavilion, and she called out to Wen Qize, “Huizhi.”

Wen Qize replied, “Yes?”

Mu Qingyao said with a serious face, “The two children in my belly want to eat fruit pastries. Could you go buy some for me?”

Wen Qize glanced lightly at her stomach and replied, “Just because they want to eat, I have to buy it for them? Who’s the parent here—me or them?”

Mu Qingyao pursed her lips, “I want to eat.”

Only then did Wen Qize get up, saying, “What flavor would you like? I’ll buy extra in case you get hungry at night and can’t go out to get some.”

This left Mu Qingyao feeling rather disheartened. All those stories mentioned using children to get favors, but evidently that didn’t work for her. She would just have to rely on herself.

…

In mid-March, Mu Qingyao’s long-awaited friend Gu Fu finally returned from the northern borders after three years.

She intentionally didn’t tell Gu Fu about her pregnancy and instructed others not to mention it either, just to see how long it would take Gu Fu to notice.

As it turned out, Gu Fu didn’t realize it at all; she just thought Mu Qingyao had gained weight. Only on Gu Fu’s wedding day, the 27th of March, when Mu Qingyao hinted at it, did Gu Fu suddenly realize.

While Mu Qingyao was in the courtyard accompanying Gu Fu, Wen Qize was outside playfully making things difficult for the groom, Imperial Preceptor Fu Yan.

In theory, the two men should have been unfamiliar with each other, but only Gu Qizheng knew the subtle connection they shared.

Gu Fu had stayed in the north for three years, and her elder brother, Gu Chen, had also been stationed in Qingzhou for two years. During this time, because of Mu Qingyao, Wen Qize frequently visited Gu Qizheng.

Fu Yan, having a mind to look after Gu Fu’s family, would visit too. But regardless of whether Fu Yan was a son-in-law or not, Gu Qizheng had a respectful awe for the Imperial Preceptor, so he felt closer to Wen Qize than to Fu Yan.

Fu Yan said nothing, but inwardly he was displeased, and this made his interactions with Wen Qize rather tense.

Later, to see Gu Fu, Fu Yan frequently traveled between the capital and the northern border. Moved by their relationship, Wen Qize eventually offered a truce, even giving Fu Yan advice on how to win over his father-in-law. Only then did the tension between them ease.

So on the wedding day, Wen Qize didn’t hold back with Fu Yan, not fearing any potential retaliation.

And because of this smooth interaction, the fifth Gu sister shared with Wen Qize the type of story Mu Qingyao had recently been enjoying—a pleasant surprise.

After finishing the “Story of Boiling Rain”, Wen Qize had wanted to write something specifically for Mu Qingyao, but she wouldn’t tell him what she liked to read.

She claimed her tastes were too niche and wouldn’t attract readers. She suggested that Wen Qize focus on more popular themes instead, so his talent wouldn’t go to waste.

But Wen Qize didn’t care. He wrote for Mu Qingyao, so he wasn’t concerned with others’ preferences—he just wanted to write something she would love.

In the end, the story Wen Qize wrote for Mu Qingyao was quite unconventional and long, taking him a full five years to complete. But it became even more popular than “Story of Boiling Rain.” Every young lady had a copy, men enjoyed it too, and even the storytellers at teahouses recited his tale.

Mu Qingyao clicked her tongue in amazement, “This isn’t just a gift from Heaven—it’s as if Heaven itself is chasing you down to feed you.”

Pausing in his task of feeding their dragon-phoenix twins, Wen Qize turned to Mu Qingyao and asked, “So is this my retribution?”

He hadn’t taken the blessings Heaven sent, so Heaven had now blessed him with a pair of children, giving him a taste of what it was like to chase others down with food.

Of course, he could leave the feeding to their wet nurses. After all, they were in a prince’s household, where no resource was lacking; each child had three wet nurses to care for them.

But his pride wouldn’t allow it. Why was it that when others fed them, they ate obediently, but as soon as he picked up the spoon, the two little ones ran off faster than ever?

Didn’t they recognize him as their father?

Mu Qingyao laughed, her voice mingling with the playful sounds of the children, drifting out of the window and into the spring breeze, gently touching the blossoming buds on the branches, and slowly fading away.

Extra Story II – The End

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