Chapter 34: Bing Wengu Lets Nan Jinping Do Nothing—His Husband Was the Only One...

Bing Wengu was like that—if he wanted something, he’d move heaven and earth to get it.

So what if Nan Jinping wasn’t born lucky? No problem—he’d just create a noble fate for him.

Tailor-made—always the *perfect* fit.

The moment Bing Wengu spoke of the "Auspicious Star," the lively, laughter-filled wedding banquet suddenly fell silent. Time around them seemed to freeze—not a single clink of dishware.

Though the reactions of the banquet guests varied, they all conveyed the same meaning—mockery!

Yes, mockery.

Dayong was a patriarchal society where men ruled, women were subordinate, and *shuang’er* (male intersex individuals) were scorned. It wasn’t written into law, but everyone knew the rules.

In such an environment, the birth of a *shuang’er* didn’t exactly spell bad luck, but at the very least, it signaled misfortune.

Many families in the village would be gossiped about behind their backs if they bore a *shuang’er*, with whispers that they must have committed some wrongdoing to be cursed with one.

Some families, unwilling to endure such ridicule, would drown the *shuang’er* at birth, telling outsiders it was stillborn. They wouldn’t *breathe a word* about their wife having given birth to a *shuang’er*.

Given this, for Bing Wengu to claim that Nan Jinping was the reincarnation of an Auspicious Star—wasn’t that absurd?

If an Auspicious Star were to reincarnate, wouldn’t it descend into the household of an imperial official, or at least a wealthy landowner? At the very least, it would be reborn as a man or a woman—certainly not as a *shuang’er*!

This was the prevailing thought among the villagers. In the past, someone might have openly jeered at such a claim. But now, the Bing family had money, and the villagers preferred not to offend them. No matter how much they inwardly scoffed, none dared show it.

Even Miao Shi and Nan Jinping’s father couldn’t bring themselves to stand up and echo Bing Wengu’s words.

The Nan brothers stood frozen in awkward silence, unsure how to respond.

“Don’t just focus on eating—come, drink!” Bing Silang was the first to react, loudly urging the guests. “Today, my elder brother is the groom! You must drink him under the table, make him too drunk to stand on his wedding night!”

“You’re only brave enough to egg others on to get him drunk—you wouldn’t dare do it yourself,” Bing Sanlang teased.

With just a few words, the banquet’s atmosphere was reignited. Guests raised their cups, eager to toast the groom.

Bing Silang discreetly wiped cold sweat from his forehead. *Thank gods I’m quick on my feet.*

Zhou Nan Shi had been utterly stunned by Bing Wengu’s words. She never expected him to say something so "*daofan tiangang*" (topsy-turvy nonsense)!

Now that she’d recovered, she scoffed under her breath, “Yeah, right—an *Auspicious Star*? Give me a break! If you ask me, Nan Jinping is the reincarnation of a jinx! Whoever marries him is doomed!”

Never mind that *she’d* been the one pushing for the match earlier.

At another table, Li Ye sneered. “That *shuang’er*’s got him hexed—how dare he fabricate such nonsense about an Auspicious Star?”

“Thinking with his dick,” Zhang Ming shook his head, as if Bing Wengu were beyond saving. “During the ceremony, I took a good look at that *shuang’er*—he’s no stunning beauty, just an ordinary village *shuang’er*. Plain-faced, zero charm. Makes no damn sense.”

“Different strokes, I guess,” Zheng Ning, not one to gossip, raised his cup to clink against Li Ye and Zhang Ming’s. “Tonight, we drink till we drop!”

Bing Wengu couldn’t care less what they thought. Their opinions were irrelevant—he would ensure Nan Jinping’s auspicious star status was firmly established.

He wouldn’t let anyone pity his husband. To pity him would be to mock Bing Wengu’s own inadequacy.

Cool as a cucumber, Bing Wengu worked the room with Bing Silang, toasting guests.

After staying behind drinking with his inner circle, he finally slumped over the table, dead drunk. No matter how they tried to rouse him, he wouldn’t wake. The guests had no choice but to haul the groom off to bed.

"My husband drank too much. Husband, please take care of him." Bing Sanlang and Bing Silang helped the man onto the heated brick bed (kang), politely addressing Nan Jinping.

Though Bing Sanlang had been adopted out, Bing Wengu never mistreated him, and he didn’t want to cut ties with the Bing family for good. Now living in the same courtyard, he came out to help with the arrangements.

"Of course," Nan Jinping replied.

The man on the kang was completely drunk, slurring unintelligible words.

Nan Jinping walked over, bent down, and was about to help Bing Wengu take off his shoes when his hand was caught.

Nan Jinping looked up and met Bing Wengu’s smiling eyes—bright and alert, no longer feigning drunkenness.

"You weren’t really—" Nan Jinping blurted out.

"Quiet now!" Bing Wengu pressed a finger to Nan Jinping’s lips, grinning. "Don’t let those outside hear. If I hadn’t pretended to be drunk, they’d have drunk me under the table. I didn’t want to spend our wedding night passed out."

At the thought of what came next on their wedding night, Nan Jinping’s face flushed red. He hissed, "You’re terrible."

Bing Wengu wasn’t bothered and chuckled. "Have you eaten?"

"Yes, I have," Nan Jinping answered. "Third Sister said you told her to save me a plate ahead of time."

At a wedding feast, if the groom wasn’t attentive, the bride would have to wait in the room until all the guests left before getting to eat scraps.

But Bing Wengu had instructed Third Sister to set aside fresh portions of each dish for Nan Jinping so he could taste everything. To ensure the food stayed warm, it had been kept warm on the stove.

"Which dishes did you like? I’ll cook them for you regularly," Bing Wengu asked.

Nan Jinping noticed Bing Wengu said *he* would cook, but he didn’t think much of it, assuming it was just an offhand remark. After all, men in the village didn’t cook.

After a moment’s thought, Nan Jinping said, "I liked everything. Every dish was delicious, even the vegetable ones."

Bing Wengu watched Nan Jinping’s reminiscent look, as if he hadn’t just eaten ordinary village fare but some rare delicacy.

Bing Wengu’s heart ached. "I wish I could’ve gotten you a green wedding dress."

In Dayong, the traditional wedding attire was "red for men, green for women."

But not every bride could wear a green wedding dress—only those marrying officials. Commoners who wanted to imitate the custom had to settle for a greenish-blue substitute, though bright red was also a mainstream choice for ordinary weddings.

Nan Jinping knew these customs.

He gave Bing Wengu a puzzled look, as if he’d said something foolish. "Why would I be sorry? Third Sister told me the chef was specially hired from town just for this meal, costing a few hundred coppers. My wedding dress and shoes alone cost eleven taels. And the bridal procession—all together, it’s enough for a villager to buy property in town."

Thinking of his wedding attire, Nan Jinping suddenly jumped off the kang and carefully took off the dress and shoes. He inspected them meticulously from top to bottom, flinching at every pulled thread as if it hurt more than his own skin.

Bing Wengu watched quietly, eyes full of amusement.

It took Nan Jinping a while to carefully store the dress and shoes in the wooden chest.

Then he spotted the money Miao Shi had given him. After a moment’s thought, he hid the string of coppers meant as his private stash and took out only the few taels of silver from selling the roe deer.

"This is the money from selling the roe deer. My mother told me to give it to you," Nan Jinping said honestly. "Make it last. Don’t be as wasteful as before."

To Nan Jinping, this wedding had been way too lavish.

Bing Wengu paused, remembering he hadn’t surrendered his own stash yet, and turned to retrieve his remaining savings.

Bing Wengu handed the money to Nan Jinping, "Here are three taels of loose silver and some copper coins."

If he hadn't given Bing Sanlang ten taels of silver, there should have been thirteen taels here now.

If Bing Wengu had any extra silver, he would have long bought Bing Sanlang's house and had him evicted.

Nan Jinping was dumbfounded by so much silver—three taels was already a fortune to him.

"How do you have so much money?" Nan Jinping asked.

Bing Wengu took out a ledger, "The nobleman gave me seventy-two taels as thanks. This is the account of these past days. I didn’t hold back a single coin—it’s all here."

Looking at the precise calligraphy on the paper, Nan Jinping flushed and confessed, "I... I can’t read."

Bing Wengu said gently, "No matter. I’ll teach you later. Let me read it to you now."

Bing Wengu read through the expenses day by day, explaining in detail whenever something wasn’t clear.

When Nan Jinping heard that Bing Wengu had given Bing Sanlang ten taels to have him adopted out, he showed no reaction.

Bing Wengu always had his own reasons for doing things.

After listening, Nan Jinping had only one thought: this man really burns through money. Over seventy taels, and in just a few days, barely anything’s left.

"Don’t squander money like this in the future," Nan Jinping said.

This might not pan out as Nan Jinping hoped. The further Bing Wengu went in life, the more he would spend. Bing Wengu just smiled without responding.

With reluctance, Nan Jinping said, "You keep it."

Bing Wengu was surprised, "You don’t want to hold onto it?"

Nan Jinping was puzzled, "In the village, men are the ones in charge."

Bing Wengu shook his head and chuckled, "In our home, you’re the master of our little family. You take care of the money."

Nan Jinping was thrilled to be called "the master" and gleefully pocketed the money.

Outside, the guests had dispersed, and the Bing family began clearing up the wedding banquet. Hearing the commotion, Nan Jinping put on his shoes to go help.

Bing Wengu stopped him, "No need for that. Before the wedding, I told my family—I’d settle the debts and the house, but the one condition was that you wouldn’t have to work."

Nan Jinping froze again, gaping at Bing Wengu as if he couldn’t understand what was being said.

Bing Wengu smiled lightly, "I told you—I married you to pamper and adore you. I meant it."

Bing Wengu stood up and put on his work clothes, "You woke up early this morning and have been busy all day. You must be tired—lie down and rest. I’ll go help."

With that, Bing Wengu quickly changed into work clothes and went out to assist.

Nan Jinping hurried to the window, listening carefully to the sounds outside. If Madam Liang or anyone else showed dissatisfaction, he would rush out to help immediately.

Madam Liang’s voice drifted in faintly, "Weren’t you drunk?"

Bing Wengu replied, "I was pretending. I had Si Lang water down the wine long ago—otherwise, I’d have been dead drunk."

Madam Liang laughed, "Your second brother is the most honest. All you brothers knew to water down the wine and fake drunkenness, but he foolishly drank it straight and passed out for a whole day and night. His entire wedding night was spent knocked out."

As she worked, Madam Liang casually asked, "Where’s young Jin?"

"He's in the room," Bing Wengu replied casually. "He's been worn out all day, so I let him rest."

At this moment, the entire Bing family was in the yard cleaning up after the wedding feast, and they all heard Bing Wengu's words. They secretly felt sour about it, thinking back to their own weddings when they couldn’t rest so early—they had to come out and work.

But no one dared to say anything, after all, the circumstances were different. Their family’s men had weddings paid for by the household, unlike Bing Wengu, who had instead contributed over forty taels to the household. Moreover, Bing Wengu had made it clear beforehand that Nan Jinping wouldn’t have to lift a hand to any chores after joining the family.

Liang Shi continued working without any change in expression. "Mm, let him sleep well. A wedding might look like nothing, but it wears you out."

Only then did Nan Jinping’s heart settle back into place. He lay back on the kang, one hand pressed to his chest, his heart hammered like he’d done something bad.

On his wedding day, he didn’t even have to clean up the dishes, chopsticks, tables, or chairs from the feast—and his mother-in-law didn’t scold him, nor did his sisters-in-law complain. What kind of good fortune was this?

Something he’d never even dreamed possible before marriage had actually come true after the wedding.

By the time Bing Wengu finished cleaning up and returned, Nan Jinping was already asleep on the kang, a faint smile on his lips. Bing Wengu lay down beside him, pulled him into his arms, and drifted off happily as well.

They slept until evening when Liang Shi finished preparing dinner and called them out to eat.

Nan Jinping jumped up in alarm, opened the door, and said uneasily, "Mother, I’m sorry—I overslept."

Liang Shi waved it off indifferently. "It’s fine. Weddings are tiring. Come out and eat."

Dinner consisted of leftovers from the wedding feast, just warmed up.

Bing Wengu thought the warmed-up leftovers didn’t taste the same, but the rest of the Bing family, including Nan Jinping, ate with just as much relish.

Seeing Nan Jinping’s bowl was empty, Bing Wengu immediately picked it up and stood to refill it for him.

Nan Jinping peeked furtively at the expressions of the other Bings. Seeing no disapproval, he quietly relaxed.

Before marriage, Nan Jinping had seen plenty of how mothers-in-law treated their daughters-in-law in the village—always making sure they didn’t slack on work or eat even a single grain of rice more than necessary.

Yet here he was, not lifting a finger yet eating his fill, and not a single member of the Bing family had any complaints. Nan Jinping himself found it hard to believe.

His hands sank with weight. Looking down, he saw a bowl piled high with steaming white rice.

Rice was several times more expensive than coarse grains, something most villagers couldn’t afford. Nan Jinping, now grown, had only eaten it a handful of times in his life.

With rice like this, he could scarf down three bowls even without any side dishes.

Swallowing hard, Nan Jinping lowered his head and dug in. This time, he didn’t eat as quickly as before, instead taking his time—because he was too embarrassed to ask for seconds.

When Bing Silang went to scoop more rice after his second bowl, he found only one serving left. Pausing, he asked, "Anyone else gonna eat rice? If not, I’ll take it all."

Bing Wengu glanced at Nan Jinping, who was eating slowly, and replied, "That’s for Jin Geer."

Liang Shi added, "Save it for Jin Geer. He likes rice."

Who didn’t like fragrant white rice? Bing Silang thought sourly, but he didn’t hesitate before stopping and instead scooped some leftover bean-and-rice mix from the wedding feast.

Nan Jinping flushed red, wishing he could vanish into his rice bowl. But his chest filled with a sweetness he couldn’t name—so this was how it felt to be cherished by a husband.