Chapter 144: The Marquis of Jiang's Wife Gives Birth

If this were at the Marquis’s residence, with the house physician, and the midwives and wet nurses already hired and waiting, Lady Jiang, the Marquis’s wife, would have no cause for worry.

But here, in the countryside, there was nothing—no proper food, no comfortable rest—and now a premature birth. For Lady Jiang, giving birth was a matter of life and death.

She grasped Shen Zhifeng’s arm tightly, fear overwhelming her with sincere regret for all she had done before. “Duke, will I die?”

Shen Zhifeng fixed his gaze on her belly—it was their son, their soon-to-be son! He looked at Lady Jiang tenderly and spoke to comfort her. “Weiwei, we’ve come this far with great effort. Don’t speak such gloomy words. Once the child is born, I’ll find a way to return to the Duke’s mansion, and then our good days will begin.”

Lady Jiang nodded weakly, just about to speak when a fierce wave of pain forced her to scream out loud.

Shen Zhifeng paced anxiously. Watching Lady Jiang suffer these waves of pain, his heart was torn, desperate to help but helpless.

The elderly woman tending them sighed and finally said to Shen Zhifeng, “Go boil some hot water. I’ll find a midwife in the village. Don’t run off. If you leave and the madam is left unattended, it could mean death for both mother and child.”

Hearing this, Shen Zhifeng nodded repeatedly and urged the woman to hurry.

She glanced at him with a shadowed, unreadable expression, said nothing more, and turned away.

Seeing this, Shen Zhifeng entered the room and urged Lady Jiang anxiously, “Weiwei, stay calm and rest. That old woman has gone. I’ll go back to the Duke’s mansion now and bring help to you!”

Lady Jiang panicked, having overheard everything outside the door. She clung to Shen Zhifeng’s sleeve, refusing to let go. “Duke, you can’t leave! What if something happens to me and the baby if you go?”

“Weiwei, be rational. What good will it do if I stay? I can’t help you give birth—I’ll just be standing outside waiting. This is our only plan. If we miss this chance, once that woman returns, we won’t be able to escape.”

With impatience, Shen Zhifeng tried to pull Lady Jiang’s hand away, casting worried glances outside.

Lady Jiang sobbed, “If you leave, what will I do alone? What if she comes back and sees you’ve run, and kills both me and the baby?”

“Weiwei, the countryside is harsh. Rest assured, once I’m back at the Duke’s mansion, I’ll find midwives and doctors to save you. This son was longed for through countless nights—I won’t abandon you two.”

Taking advantage of Lady Jiang’s momentary distraction, Shen Zhifeng broke free and dashed away.

Lady Jiang wanted to call after him, but another fierce contraction curled her up on the bed, clutching the sheets beneath her. Veins bulged on her pale hands, tears streaked her face.

Death’s shadow loomed over Lady Jiang. Now she no longer thought of wealth or honor—only prayed for the safety of her and her child, hoping to return alive to the capital.

Fortunately, the elderly woman soon returned with a midwife.

The midwife lifted the blanket, a strong metallic scent of blood filling the air. Most children in nearby villages had been born under her care; though experienced, seeing Lady Jiang’s condition troubled her deeply.

She looked around—there was only the old woman, not a single man in sight. Sighing, she sent the old woman to boil water and fetch clean cloths, then prepared to assist with the delivery.

Lady Jiang’s labor pains stretched from dawn till dusk, leaving her numb with exhaustion. Bloodied scratch marks lined the wall beside her bed. She thought of Shen Zhifeng, who may have already fled back to the city, while she remained trapped in the countryside, fighting for life and death. Regret and anger nearly overwhelmed her.

“Madam, don’t give up! Push, the baby’s almost here!” the midwife urged.

Finally, deep into the night, a newborn’s cry pierced the darkness. The midwife exhaled in relief. “Congratulations, madam, it’s a boy.”

Lady Jiang forced a glance, smiled faintly, then lost consciousness.

Contrary to her hope, Shen Zhifeng had not yet entered the capital city. His straw sandals were worn through as he asked villagers for directions, taking a long detour before barely reaching the city wall. By then, the gates were closed. He hid in the grass, hungry and freezing through the night, waking at dawn to slip inside.

When he finally reached the Shen Duke’s mansion, the gatekeeper did not recognize him and barked at him to begone like a common vagabond.

No one in the mansion believed Shen Zhifeng was alive.

Besides, he was gaunt and filthy, clad in tattered rags, a stark contrast to the handsome, well-dressed man he once was.

Helpless, Shen Zhifeng tried the back gate, hoping the servants there might pass a message to the old madam, claiming he was a relative.

The gatekeeper sized him up suspiciously. Thinking, “What poor relative is this, probably just here to beg,” he rolled his eyes and slammed the door.

Without money to bribe the servants, no one cared to help. If he were a fraud, they’d be blamed by their master—it wasn’t worth the risk.

Shen Zhifeng paced anxiously, while news of his arrival had already reached Shen Qingyun.

She smiled coldly.

In her previous life, when Han Rou was dying, she had barely persuaded Jiang Lin to let her visit the Duke’s mansion. Shen Zhifeng, fearing she was after money and worried that poisoning Han Rou might be exposed, forbade her entry. They never even saw each other one last time.

Moisture welled in her eyes. Shen Qingyun whispered softly to Pearl, who nodded and hurried off to find Wang Qingrui.

Soon after, the back gate opened, and Xiao Qiu flung a basin of dirty water out, shouting, “Hey, what’s a beggar doing here?”

The basin drenched Shen Zhifeng, leaving him soaked and bedraggled.

Wang Qingrui pinched her nose—her own belly was now swelling—and quietly said, “Ignore him. Let’s go.”

Shen Zhifeng stared at Wang Qingrui’s swollen belly, overwhelmed with joy—he still had another child!

He pounded on the door, shouting, but no one answered, treating him like a madman.

Xiao Qiu, feigning fear of the concubine, sent someone to beat him, forcing Shen Zhifeng to flee.

Desperate, he wandered the streets until he reached the Marquis’s residence.

Naturally, no one there believed him either. Wet and foul-smelling, worse than a beggar, the gatekeeper chased him away.

Suddenly, a clear, bright voice called out, “Who is that?”

A servant turned and replied, “Young Master Shi, it’s a madman. Don’t pay attention.”

Shi Shaohua nodded, then walked over with two steamed buns, offering them to Shen Zhifeng.

While devouring the buns, Shen Zhifeng grabbed Shi Shaohua’s arm urgently. “Young master, I know where the Marquis’s wife is. Please believe me!”

Keen eyes flashed with deadly intent, but his face remained gentle, tinged with surprise. “Really? The Marquis’s wife has helped me before. Where is she?”