Chapter 2

Song Sheng looked out through the window; the sky was already turning to dusk.

Beside the bed sat a bride, her red veil still covering her face.

Song Sheng thought for a moment—he had to confirm whether things were really as he suspected.

He sat up, leaned forward slightly, and pinched the corner of the red veil. With a gentle pull of his long fingers, the thin fabric was lifted away.

Lu Qing had been sitting there for most of the day, his hands and feet nearly numb, but he hadn’t dared to move.

That afternoon, his husband had been carried in and had lain unconscious on the bed ever since. He hadn’t known when Song Sheng would wake to lift the veil.

Now that the veil was suddenly removed, Lu Qing felt flustered. Until tonight, he had never seen Song Sheng’s face. Looking at him now—his features refined like jade, his brows and eyes striking—Lu Qing couldn’t help but feel shy. His husband was truly handsome.

He lowered his head, blushing, and whispered softly: “Husband.”

When Song Sheng didn’t respond, Lu Qing assumed he was still drunk. He rose, poured a bowl of sobering tea, and sat back down at the bedside, speaking gently: “Husband, is your head still dizzy? Why not drink a bowl of sobering tea to ease the wine?”

Song Sheng looked at the scene before him and asked, “What… is your name?”

Lu Qing, embarrassed, answered quietly: “Husband, I… I’m called Lu Qing. The matchmaker should have told you before the wedding. Did you forget?”

“Which ‘Qing’?”

“Qing, as in clear water.”

Song Sheng realized he was not dreaming—he had truly transmigrated into the book.

And not just any book, but one of those “little husband” stories. He had been interested in this novel partly because it contained a hateful supporting character who shared his exact name, but that was only one reason.

Another reason was his own orientation—he was attracted to men, so he was naturally curious about stories featuring male spouses.

However, he had never finished the book. He abandoned it midway because the character named Song Sheng was so detestable.

As mentioned earlier, the original Song Sheng was already eighteen, old enough to marry. But his endless studying had drained the family’s wealth, leaving them unable to afford a proper bride price. In the end, through the matchmaker’s arrangement, he married a “little husband,” Lu Qing.

Yet after marrying him, he did not treat Lu Qing kindly. He neglected him, ignored him, and often scolded or beat him.

In this society, gē ér were not considered equal to women. They had weaker fertility compared to women, shared women’s physical fragility, and lacked men’s strength for labor. As a result, their social status was low.

Ordinary families with some savings would always choose to marry a woman, not a male spouse. But in the countryside, this kind of situation was common. Rural life was poor, and many families couldn’t afford the high costs of marrying a woman, so they would spend less and marry a gē ér instead.

As for the original Song Sheng, being a scholar, he was especially proud and looked down on ge’er. Now forced to marry Lu Qing, he grew frustrated and drank heavily at the wedding banquet. Yet somehow, his body’s “soul” was replaced, and he became the present Song Sheng.

In the original book, after marriage, Song Sheng stayed home studying for the exams. But even after reaching his thirties, he never passed the xiucai exam. His family lost hope in him. Since he only cared about reading and knew nothing of farming or household work, and because his mother Zhang Xinghua spoiled him, refusing to let him do chores, his uncles eventually split the family apart.

Later, Song Sheng’s temper worsened. He became an alcoholic, squandered all of Lu Qing’s dowry, and treated him with cold neglect. Eventually, he escalated to domestic violence, beating Lu Qing until the young man fell ill and died prematurely.

Reading this, Song Sheng felt Lu Qing was pitiful and the original Song Sheng detestable. He abandoned the book and never finished it.

But now that he had transmigrated into the story, he resolved to make amends, to prevent the tragedy from repeating.

Calming himself, Song Sheng accepted the bowl from Lu Qing, lifted it, and drank the sobering tea in one go. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he said, “Thank you.”

Lu Qing’s face flushed red. “Husband, you don’t need to be polite.”

Song Sheng raised his head and carefully studied his newlywed spouse. Lu Qing was very handsome: pale skin, delicate features, large dark eyes, long slender brows, and a small mole at the brow’s end—a typical gē ér mark. He stood about 1.7 meters tall but was thin, his face small as a palm, and the wedding robe hung loosely on his frame.

Lu Qing blushed even more under his gaze, remembering his father’s advice before marriage: “Qingqing, if your husband isn’t active on the wedding night, it may be because he’s shy. You must take the initiative. If you conceive early, you’ll secure your place in the Song family.”

Lu Qing nodded shyly, saying he understood.

Now, seeing his husband so calm and unhurried, he wondered if he should take the initiative.

When Song Sheng still didn’t move, Lu Qing gathered his courage and said: “Husband, let me help you undress.”

But Song Sheng, who had grown up as a wealthy young master, was used to dressing himself and disliked being served. He stood up and said, “It’s fine, I’ll do it myself.”

Lu Qing did not know Song Sheng’s true thoughts. Hearing his husband refuse his help, Lu Qing felt a little disappointed.

But it didn’t matter—so long as he performed well tonight in the bridal chamber and conceived early, life would surely become better.

Song Sheng, however, had overestimated his ability to undress himself. The ancient wedding robes were far too complicated. In the end, it was Lu Qing who helped him loosen the garments and remove them.

The two of them shed their wedding clothes and lay down together. It was already October, the weather turning chilly, so the quilt had to be thick.

Song Sheng touched the blanket. Though the fabric was coarse, the inner filling was soft. It wasn’t cotton, but seemed to be made of animal hide.

His grandmother, Zhang Xinghua, had always favored this grandson who lost his mother early. She had even taken silver from her own funeral savings to buy him a hide quilt, stitched into a new cover.

Thinking of this, Song Sheng sighed inwardly. The original owner had truly let down his family’s devotion.

Perhaps because of the wine, Song Sheng grew drowsy. He lay properly on the bed, closed his eyes, and prepared to sleep. Remembering someone lay beside him, he whispered: “It’s late, let’s sleep.”

Lu Qing answered softly but did not sleep. Instead, he stretched out a pale hand, slowly reaching toward Song Sheng.

In the darkness his face was flushed. This was his first time doing such a thing, and he was terribly shy. But recalling his father’s advice, he bravely pressed forward.

Song Sheng’s body was already restless from the wine. He had just managed to suppress the heat, when suddenly a small hand began to wander across him, reigniting the fire within.

In his previous life, though born into wealth, his parents divorced early. He never wasted his studies—he was a top student, devoting nearly all his time to learning. Because of his orientation, he had no partner even at thirty. But that did not mean he lacked desire.

He caught the hand, stopping its movement.

“What are you doing?”

His tone was sharp, and Lu Qing thought he had angered him. Frightened, he withdrew his hand and murmured: “Tonight… is our wedding night. Husband… don’t you plan to touch me? Husband… do you hate me?”

His voice carried grievance, breaking into fragments as though he might cry at any moment.

Song Sheng paused, realizing Lu Qing felt neglected and hurt.

But Song Sheng knew he could not take advantage. Though he now wore the body of eighteen‑year‑old Song Sheng, in reality he was thirty. Lu Qing was only sixteen—fourteen years younger. That was like an old ox eating young grass.

Moreover, by modern standards, Lu Qing was still underage. He could not bring himself to do such things with a minor.

Thinking this, Song Sheng reached out and touched Lu Qing’s small face. It was damp—he had indeed been crying.

Gently, he wiped away the tears and said softly: “Lu Qing, I don’t hate you. On the contrary, seeing you tonight, I find I like you.”

So obedient, so cute.

After a pause he added: “We’ve never met before, and we have no foundation of feelings. Such things should only be done between people who truly love each other. Since we are already married, there’s no need to rush tonight. Let’s live together first, slowly build affection. What do you think?”

When Song Sheng finished speaking, he noticed Lu Qing crying even harder.

Between sobs, Lu Qing said: “Husband… do you despise me because I’m a gē ér?”

Song Sheng quickly shook his head: “No, I don’t despise you. I only feel that we don’t yet have a foundation of feelings, and I want us to build that first. Please don’t misunderstand—I truly don’t despise you. Don’t cry, alright?”

“…Alright.”

Hearing Song Sheng’s gentle reassurance, Lu Qing felt a little calmer. As long as his husband didn’t despise him, that was enough.

Still, though he agreed, his mind wandered. Before the wedding, his father had called him aside and instructed him carefully, saying that men on their wedding night often lacked restraint and would demand much. He told Lu Qing to endure it, and that once he conceived, everything would be fine.

But why was his husband so different from what his father had said?

Thinking it over, Lu Qing realized Song Sheng’s words made sense. Before marrying, he had only heard the matchmaker’s descriptions and his father’s inquiries—that Song Sheng was a scholar, beloved by his family. If Lu Qing worked diligently and behaved properly, his life would surely be secure.

He had never met Song Sheng before, nor spent time with him. To suddenly marry and share a bed with a stranger was indeed unsettling.

Yet wasn’t this common in the countryside? Many marriages were arranged blindly, without love or familiarity.

Could his husband be deceiving him?

But Song Sheng looked sincere. His eyes seemed to speak, his face was handsome, and his voice was gentle.

Lu Qing decided to trust him, at least this once.

In this society, if Song Sheng divorced him, Lu Qing would be scorned by the entire village. That was why Song Sheng avoided saying things like “If I meet someone else, I’ll let you go.”

Besides, Lu Qing suited his taste—Song Sheng resolved to nurture their bond and treat him well.

Lu Qing was still very young, his body not yet fully developed. It was not suitable for him to bear children now. In two years, when he matured, it would be healthier.

Thinking of Lu Qing’s tragic fate in the book, Song Sheng felt a pang of sorrow. Unconsciously, he stroked Lu Qing’s back, then comfortingly patted his head, and finally rested his hand on his slender waist. In a deep voice he said: “Sleep now. Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”

For Lu Qing, entering a strange household was inevitably worrying. From the moment he sat in the wedding sedan chair, his heart had been uneasy.

After all, he was just a ge’er, while the other was a scholar—no matter how one looked at it, they were not a good match. Even if Song Sheng never passed the xiucai exam, he could still read and write, and might find work as a bookkeeper. But as for Lu Qing, aside from cooking and washing clothes, he knew nothing else.

If not for Song Sheng’s family being poor, and his father providing a generous dowry, this marriage would never have been his to claim.

Yet after meeting Song Sheng today, Lu Qing felt much more at ease. His husband seemed gentle, even better than he had imagined.

He was still a youth, just at the age when feelings first awaken. Though he carried some unease in his heart, his thoughts were simple, easily soothed. Before long, he drifted into sleep.