Chapter 2: My Little One, No More Striving

Li Fu had little experience holding babies. A child only a few months old was soft all over; though he appeared careless, grabbing the child up from the bed in one swoop, in truth, he was gentle and restrained. Now that the child had awakened, perhaps startled, his head instinctively jerked back. Li Fu's heart leapt in fright, worried the baby's neck might be too weak and twist, but his reflexes were quick—he immediately supported little Yun's head with his hand.

Xin Niang, too, secretly let out a sigh of relief.

“This child is truly a handsome one,” Li Fu said, carefully cradling Yun, a smile on his face.

He began with praise to ease Xin Niang’s worries. Although Li Fu was a serious man, he still longed for family harmony. The matter with Lady Bu had already been settled, and he was aware that his conduct lately had been less than ideal. Having soothed things with Lady Bu yesterday, today he had come to comfort little Yun and his mother. When things calmed down, he would find an excuse to host a celebration, making both ladies in the household happier.

Sure enough, Xin Niang’s worried expression faded at his words, her face growing gentler.

Li Fu had meant to offer polite compliments, but as he looked more closely, he realized Yun truly was a beautiful child.

Across the way, little Yi was a handful—his cries energetic beyond belief. Who could imagine a child so small could cry for so long? One could already tell he’d be stubborn and troublesome in the future.

Yun, on the other hand, though recently startled, now fixed him with a pair of bright, black eyes, watching intently. His face was soft and plump, fair as a doll carved of jade, radiating good fortune.

Li Fu had only intended to make a token gesture, expecting Yun to cry and fuss like Yi, so he could hand him back quickly. Unexpectedly, Yun did not cry at all.

“What a clever boy—so young yet already recognizes his father,” Li Fu said, holding the child closer, unable to help himself from praising him.

When he first heard both children were likely ordinary, Li Fu had been a little disappointed. But after a few months, his feelings mellowed. After all, it was his first time as a father, and he had grown fond.

Yun gazed at Li Fu with curiosity—this was the first time he’d truly seen his “father.”

Oh? Yun felt a burst of joy; his tender little brain seemed to work better and better. Before, he hadn’t understood what “mother” meant, but now he did, and he even understood “father.”

“Yun is truly a delight,” Li Fu said, as the baby grinned and babbled, and he couldn’t resist kissing Yun on his plump cheek.

Li Fu was a stern, serious man. When he was childless, he had always imagined he would be a strict father. Now, for the first time, he felt the mysterious bond between father and son.

Yun, meeting him for the first time, was not afraid—he even smiled. Wasn’t that the true connection of blood?

“Yun is very well-behaved, my lord. You don’t know how easy he is to look after. He’s so gentle and sensible, I worry he’ll suffer for it in the future,” Xin Niang said.

For the first time, Li Fu found enjoyment in caring for a child. After holding him for a while, he simply sat down, placing the child on the couch and teasing him with purpose.

Yun stared at Li Fu, his thoughts muddled but lively—this father seems a bit old, while his mother looks young. So, it’s an older husband and younger wife situation.

But perhaps this father wasn’t so great after all. What good father wouldn’t visit his son for months?

Yun grew more displeased when his father dangled a tassel before his eyes, waving it to entice him, only to pull it away each time he reached for it.

“Ya-ya!” Yun called out in protest, but his less-than-ideal father and always-gentle mother only laughed.

What’s so funny? Even a baby has his dignity.

Yun wanted to scold them further, but his eyelids grew heavy. Perhaps the mental effort of finally understanding “father” and “mother” had tired him out.

Never mind, he thought. He babbled softly, and soon drifted to sleep.

Luckily, just before sleep claimed him, his father relented, letting the tassel slip too slowly—and Yun finally managed to grab it.

Now that he had it, he would not give it back. That would teach them not to tease a child.

“Asleep?” Li Fu asked, seeing Yun clutching the tassel with eyes closed, his voice instinctively dropping to a whisper.

“Asleep. My lord, let me put him to bed,” Xin Niang replied with a smile. She tried to take the tassel from Yun’s hand, but he refused to let go, waving his little fist in protest.

She couldn’t help but laugh.

Yun was a gentle child; most babies couldn’t control their strength and would tug their mother’s hair or pinch her skin. Yun never did such things.

This was the first time he clung to something so stubbornly—he must have been annoyed by Li Fu’s teasing.

Once the child was settled in bed, Xin Niang whispered, “Yun learned to roll over just a few days ago, so we must keep a close eye on him. If he wakes and no one is there, he might roll right off.”

The couch was higher than the bed’s edge and narrower. She worried that, unattended, Yun would tumble off.

Since Yun was so quiet, Li Fu was patient enough to listen as Xin Niang recounted every detail of the child’s life since birth. His first time using the chamber pot, when he strained so hard his face turned red, frightening Xin Niang into thinking something was wrong—only for everything to return to normal soon after. Whenever she remembered Yun’s anxious sighs when he couldn’t hold it any longer, she found him irresistibly funny.

She spoke of how much weight he’d gained, his resigned little face before every feeding—nearly every little thing from these months was lovingly recounted.

Li Fu found himself thoroughly absorbed. He had only meant to make a brief visit, as he had with Yi the day before, but somehow the afternoon slipped away, and dusk had fallen.

Since it was late, he simply stayed for dinner with Xin Niang. He’d even considered staying the night, but the bureaucracy of the Liang dynasty was relentless. The founding emperor had been a notorious workaholic, sleeping only four or five hours a night and spending every other waking moment on state affairs—and he expected the same from his men. Those who wouldn’t work were openly scolded: “You scholars take the court’s grain and silver; if you won’t work, get out. There are plenty who will.” Thus, the holidays were few—three days each for the Winter Solstice and Mid-Autumn Festival, and a day off at the end of every third month. Otherwise, unless a special announcement was made, there was no rest—just work.

So Li Fu had no choice. He had only come home at midday, intending to see Yun during his lunch break, but ended up staying half the day. Though Long County was small and poor, it was still under Liang’s strict administration, and he had, technically, skipped out on his duties. Especially now, with spring plowing, labor assignments, and a host of other tasks to oversee, there was no shortage of work to be done.

He could only make up for it with extra hours later.

When Yun woke again, it was fully dark. He opened his eyes to see the oil lamp burning, his mother sewing his tiny clothes by its glow.

As soon as she saw him awake, Xin Niang put aside her work.

“Are you hungry, Yun?”

She teased him affectionately, fed him, then wiped his face and body before tucking his plump, rosy self back into the blankets.

She wasn’t worried about him crying. Sure enough, after all this fuss, Yun only looked at his own hands with curiosity, lifting his feet under the covers to feel them with his toes.

After a while, Yun suddenly remembered something. With a determined grunt, he rolled over and began fumbling across his body. Not finding what he sought, he reached beneath his little pillow, searching.

Soon, he pulled out the small tassel. It wasn’t worth anything, but Yun was delighted with his prize. After admiring it, he stuck his bottom in the air and carefully hid it back under his pillow.

Once satisfied, he patted the pillow, putting on a show of mature contentment that made Xin Niang laugh.

After her laughter, for the first time, she talked to Yun about Li Fu, and even mentioned little Yi across the way.

Lately, Yun had occasionally heard the maids mention the concubine and Yi next door, and vaguely understood his father had at least two wives. But his mother had never spoken of it until now.

This time, she spoke at length, even sharing her own background—her father had once held office, though Yun didn’t understand the specifics; the title was too much of a tongue-twister.

She said she had once felt gratitude toward Yun’s father, though she never truly entered his heart. As for Lady Bu, she had been only a merchant’s daughter, her birth far inferior, and she held no real standing in the household.

Her stories came in bits and pieces, whatever came to mind, without much focus. After a while, Yun understood a few things.

First, Lady Bu was no concern of theirs—each should simply live their own life. Second, all he needed to do was grow up safe and sound; there was no need to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a workaholic.

Yun babbled a few words and nodded his head solemnly.

He quite agreed with his mother—who needed to work themselves ragged? He’d had enough of that in his last life. This time, as a baby, he would never overexert himself.

Xin Niang watched her child listening gravely and nodding, and her heart overflowed with love. Though she felt sure a baby couldn’t understand, he was so obedient and sweet she wanted to smother him with kisses.

Yet Yun suddenly froze.

Last life?

What last life?

Why did he know such a strange word?

He felt his little brain cloud over—why did all these things suddenly surface in his mind?