The Lady is Formidable

Qin Muchuan had been in quite a melancholy mood lately.

For no other reason than the fact that he was about to marry a proper wife—a woman well-versed in literature and decorum, gentle and virtuous. Yet such women, he felt, were always dull and rigid, little more than puppets tending to their elders and urging their husbands to strive. Speak to them of anything amusing, and all they would say, in the most earnest tone, was, “Husband, you ought to be studying.” There was not a spark of wit in them, only the stench of ambition and money.

The prospect of this marriage had left Qin Muchuan troubled for days, unable to rest, and his lips bore the marks of his distress.

Outside the gates of the Duke of Founding’s residence, there was a bustle of carriages and crowds, drums and gongs resounding. Everywhere was draped in vibrant red, guests gathered from all directions, the atmosphere lively and festive.

Qin Muchuan, however, lounged lazily against the wooden railing beside the lake, staring at the carp swimming to and fro, his face clouded with gloom. Around him, a group of attendants waited on edge, led by Steward Zhao, who urged him repeatedly, “Young Master, you must hurry to the Minister’s residence. Today is your grand wedding—if you miss the auspicious hour, no one can bear the consequences!”

Qin Muchuan impatiently dug at his ear. “Uncle Zhao, you’ve repeated that eight hundred times. I’ll say it again: whoever wants to marry, let them do it. I won’t have any part in it!” With a swish of his sleeve, he prepared to leave, but found himself su