Chapter Forty-Four: Whoever Dares to Destroy Her Dream of Being a Couch Potato Is Her Nemesis
As for Old Master Song defending another woman in front of her, Song Ci felt nothing at all. After all, she held no emotional attachment to this man. But the idea of him taking a second wife was simply unacceptable; it would clearly throw her household into chaos.
Song Ci understood well that troubles in large families arose not from anything mysterious, but simply because there were too many people with too many opinions. The so-called masters increased in number, and so did disputes and strife. Everyone harbored their own selfish desires, each seeking benefits for themselves. The struggle for power and profit was not confined to the court; the inner chambers and back courtyards were battlegrounds as well, sometimes even darker and more ruthless than the outside world, with women employing endless schemes and tricks.
Combining her own memories with what she had learned, overtly and covertly, from the old matron, Song Ci knew that the Song family was one of the rare peaceful households in the capital. The absence of chaos was not because they were newly risen or ignorant, but simply because there were so few people in the family.
Looking around, she saw that although Old Master Song kept two concubines, they had borne no children, existing merely for his amusement—lowly companions who could be sent away to be married off or sold at any time, unable to stir up real trouble. Among the second generation, three were married, none had taken concubines, and all their children were legitimate, so the total number of young masters and mistresses could be counted on two hands. Naturally, the household remained tranquil.
But if a second wife were to arrive—a proper concubine, recorded in the family register and protected by legal documents, not to be sold—such a woman, if cunning, could easily outmaneuver the legitimate offspring, perhaps even replace them.
Song Ci did not consider herself adept at domestic intrigue, nor did she care to get involved. At her age, to waste energy scheming against others would be tantamount to hastening her own demise.
She had already resolved, whether she could return to the modern world or not, to live out her days in this ancient era with dignity and leisure. She would eat, sleep, amuse herself, speak her mind, live as she pleased, and die peacefully of old age. That was good enough for her.
If she were forced into endless battles of wit and suspicion, her frail body might not even withstand it.
Therefore, she was determined to guard her peaceful days—quiet, prosperous, and content.
If Old Master Song thought he could disturb her tranquility, he was sorely mistaken.
Anyone who dared disrupt her dream of a leisurely life would be met with utter resistance.
Moreover, having taken over the original owner’s body, she felt a slight obligation to safeguard her sons’ interests.
With these thoughts, Song Ci could not help but cast another fierce glare at the plump, white-haired old man.
“Let me tell you, you old fool, as long as I live, you’ll never take another wife or concubine. This Song family belongs to my sons, and I won’t let it be divided. If you wish to embarrass the children, I refuse. I won’t allow anyone to make a mockery of my eldest son. And as for my fourth son, he isn’t married yet—any respectable lady would balk at the idea of serving alongside a concubine. I won’t permit it.”
Song Zhiyu’s eyes darted mischievously. “Father, it’s fine if you take a concubine, but please, don’t have any more children. I like being the youngest.”
The youngest child, the apple of their eye—he had no intention of sharing his favored status.
“If you do have a child, the others will have to call some milk-drinking brat uncle or aunt. Ha ha… Ow!” Song Zhiyu held his head, casting an aggrieved look at his father. “See? Just for saying a few words, you hit me with a bun. If you have another child, I’ll have no standing in this family. I won’t accept it!”
Everyone else: “…”
Foolishness, it seems, is hereditary.