In the final second before his death, Pei Cheng was still desperately hoping that his so-called husband would appear, but all he got was his little brat.
The little brat he had risked his life to give birth to had never once called him father, nor had he ever looked him straight in the eye.
Yet at the very moment Pei Cheng's life was threatened, the little brat rushed out and shielded him.
Pei Cheng swore he had never regretted anything so much.
He had once regretted being born into the Pei family, regretted marrying into the Jiang family, regretted giving birth to the little brat, but none of those regrets were as intense as this moment. His little brat—from toddling to babbling, from skinny to skin and bones, to becoming a sullen young boy—he had never seen any of those changes with his own eyes.
He had missed too much.
In the first month of the fifth year of Hao, the male wife of the Jiang family's Second Master, Pei Cheng, and Second Master Jiang's eldest son, Jiang Yanzhi, both died in a natural disaster, and their bodies were nowhere to be found. In the tenth month of the third year of Hao, Pei Cheng, after being gravely ill for several months, finally began to recover.
In the cold wind, Pei Cheng, leaning against the door, looked at the little boy held in the maid's arms not far away, his feelings complicated.
The servant boy standing to one side rolled his eyes and said fawningly, "At this age, the Little Young Master still needs to be carried—isn't that a bit too embarrassing for the Jiang family?"
Pei Cheng gave the servant boy a faint glance. "You talk too much."
The servant boy's half-bowed body stiffened.
This Pei Cheng—how had his temperament changed so much after that grave illness?
The maid had seen Pei Cheng from afar. She curled her lip, carried the skin-and-bones little boy over to Pei Cheng, awkwardly bent her body, and said, "Greetings, Young Master."
At first, the little boy had stared at Pei Cheng without blinking, but when Pei Cheng looked at him, the boy quickly turned his head away, his manner cold, completely unlike the earlier look of wanting his daddy to come close.
Pei Cheng did not mind at all. He leaned closer and sized the little boy up from head to toe, frowning. "He is…?"
How was this little boy before him completely different from the chubby, fair-skinned baby in his memory, or the cold little youth…? Could this sallow, emaciated little thing, so thin that his bones nearly showed, really be the child he had carried for ten months and given birth to?
The little boy's face had merely been cold before, but after hearing Pei Cheng's words, it instantly darkened.
The maid panicked and hurriedly explained, "This is Young Master Yanzhi. Young Master Pei, surely you haven't forgotten?"
The maid's expression was somewhat hard to describe, but more than that, it was gloating. Pei Cheng had been so ill that he did not even know what his own child looked like—had the illness made him lose his wits?
What a pair of foolish father and son.
The little boy's body stiffened, and his eyes held a trace of grievance and resentment.
Pei Cheng did not notice anything amiss and instructed on his own, "Put him down, and go prepare…"
But the maid cut in first, "Young Master, Young Master Yanzhi has just eaten. It is time for him to rest now. I will take him back first."
Pei Cheng frowned, but still waved his hand, letting the maid take the little boy away.
The maid left quickly. After a few steps, she glanced at the little boy in her arms, a flicker of impatience passing through her eyes. An unfavored male wife and an unvalued eldest son—what waves did they think they could stir up?
The little boy shifted uneasily, but the maid viciously pinched his arm with her fingernails, and he immediately turned pale from the pain.
The maid said unkindly, "Eldest Young Master, this servant is very tired carrying you. Could you be quiet?"
The little boy endured the pain, not daring to resist or ask for help, because he had tried, and it was utterly useless.
Pei Cheng tightened the cloak around his shoulders and watched the little boy's back as he grew farther away, feeling inexplicably uncomfortable in his heart.
After hesitating again and again, Pei Cheng heaved a deep sigh, resignedly lifted his foot, and walked in the direction the maid had just left. "I really must have owed you in a past life."
But he truly had owed him in his past life.
The servant boy rubbed his hands in the cold wind and followed Pei Cheng's steps reluctantly.
Pei Cheng's good mood did not last long, because before he even entered the side courtyard, he heard the conversation coming from inside the room.
The young maid said disdainfully, "Pei Cheng can't even recognize the child he gave birth to. It seems that next time I bring a different child before him, he probably won't even realize the swap."
The wet nurse clicked her tongue. "If you ask me, men giving birth still can't compare to women. Look at Pei Cheng—he gave the Jiang family a boy, yet he still can't even set foot in the main residence."
The young maid gave a snort of laughter and asked eagerly, "Sister Feng, do you think Young Master Pei still remembers what his man looks like, after being driven to the side courtyard for so many years?"
The wet nurse was just about to reply when she heard a bang behind her.
Pei Cheng stood at the doorway, the howling cold wind behind him, and for a moment the atmosphere froze.
The wet nurse was so frightened that cold sweat broke out all over her body. "Young Master Pei, we…"
The maid awkwardly put down the embroidery in her hands. "Young Master Pei, we weren't talking about you just now. Please hear us out…"
Pei Cheng looked down at the two of them, and a sudden resentment rose in his heart.
These people actually dared to say such improper things in the little one's ear—they deserved to die!
Speaking of the little bun, Pei Cheng suddenly came to his senses, and his gaze began searching for someone.
Soon Pei Cheng saw the little brat crouched and curled into a ball in the corner, and his heart gave a sharp pang.
The little brat he had resolved to raise in the palm of his hand was crouching on the ground in such cold weather without shoes, and he wasn't wearing any clothes to keep out the cold either… Those two damned women actually dared to treat his son like this!
