The General's Shameless Wife | Royal Plague #1

The Su Estate gates were tall enough to make grown men reconsider their life choices.

Two stone lions guarded the entrance. The bronze-plated doors gleamed under the afternoon sun. The crest of the Su family—carved deep and proud—watched over the street like a silent threat.

In front of those gates stood a woman arguing with a child.

“Go inside.”

“No.”

Qin Ranyi crossed her arms and glared down at her son.

Su Chengye crossed his arms and glared back.

They had the exact same expression.

The guards stationed at the entrance had witnessed assassins attempt infiltration, noble daughters faint dramatically, and debtors beg on their knees.

They had never witnessed this.

“I raised you for seven years,” Qin Ranyi continued, lowering her voice as if discussing serious trade negotiations. “Fed you, clothed you, allowed you to insult my cooking—”

“You insult your cooking.”

“That is not the point.”

Chengye pressed his lips together to stop them from twitching.

His mother leaned closer and whispered harshly, “That is your father’s house.”

“I know,” he whispered back.

“So go.”

“You go.”

“I am not going.”

“Why?”

“Because I do not want to.”

“That is not a reason.”

“It is the best reason.”

One of the guards coughed into his fist.

Qin Ranyi shot him a glare sharp enough to slice silk.

The guard immediately straightened.

She turned back to her son and began muttering under her breath.

“Men with titles. All useless. Can command ten thousand soldiers but cannot recognise the consequences of one night. Phoenix tree my foot. More like stubborn log.”

Chengye’s shoulders shook.

“Do not laugh,” she hissed.

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“I am holding in dignity.”

“You do not possess dignity.”

He bit the inside of his cheek.

The guard on the left squinted at the boy.

At first it had been the eyes.

Then the brow.

Then the way he stood, back straight, chin slightly lifted, even in argument. That posture. That glare. That nose. The guard’s heart skipped.

He leaned slightly toward his companion. “Does he not…”

The second guard stared harder.

The boy shifted his weight exactly the way the young general did when displeased.

Both guards went silent.

Qin Ranyi grabbed the small sack at her feet and shoved it into Chengye’s chest. “Clothes. Spare boots. Two sets of winter lining. Don’t let them dress you in ugly colours.”

“Mother…”

“And here.” She pressed a small coin purse into his hand. “Emergency funds.”

“You are not leaving.”

“I am absolutely leaving.”

“You said if I ever got lost, you would burn down the world to find me.”

“That was before you decided to voluntarily walk into a noble household.”

“You told me to come!”

“Yes, and now you are here.”

“That does not mean you can abandon me!”

The word abandon echoed slightly louder than either of them intended.

The guards shifted.

Ranyi’s eyes flickered for the briefest moment. Then she scoffed. “Abandon? I am upgrading you.”

Chengye’s lips trembled again.

She leaned in and whispered dramatically, “If anyone bullies you, cry loudly. Preferably in front of elderly women.”

His eyes brightened. “I knew it,” he murmured.

“And if a pretty lady tries to feed you sweets—”

“I tell her she smells like desperation.”

“Good boy.”

The first guard stepped forward carefully. “Miss… this is the Su Estate.”

“Yes,” Ranyi replied pleasantly. “I am aware. That is why I am depositing him.”

“Depositing…”

“My son.”

Both guards froze.

Chengye looked up at them innocently.

Ranyi placed a hand on his shoulder and announced with full confidence: “Su Chengye. Returning property.”

Silence.

The wind moved.

One guard’s face drained of colour.

He bowed stiffly. “Please wait.”

Then he turned and ran. Not walked. Ran. Through the gates and across the courtyard.

Ranyi blinked. “Oh,” she muttered. “That was faster than expected.”

Chengye leaned toward her. “You planned this.”

“Of course I planned this.”

“You said you did not.”

“I lied.”

He grinned.

She flicked his forehead. “Do not look pleased.”

“I am not pleased.”

“You are glowing.”

“I inherited that from you.”

She gasped dramatically. “How dare you.”

From inside the estate came the sharp echo of hurried footsteps. Chengye straightened instinctively. Ranyi smoothed his hair. Then immediately messed it up again. “Look slightly pitiful,” she instructed.

“I do not want to.”

“Fine. Look dignified but oppressed.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense.”

The heavy gates began to open.

Servants scattered aside.

And at the centre of it all, an older woman in refined robes, hair pinned immaculately, face set in thunderous fury. In her hand, a whip. Su Lianhua. She stepped forward, gaze blazing.

“So,” she began coldly, “which shameless woman dares claim…” Her voice stopped. Her eyes fell on the child. The street fell silent. Chengye blinked up at her. The same sharp brow. The same bone structure. The same unyielding composure.

The whip slipped from her hand. It hit the stone with a crack. Her lips parted. “…Su blood.”

Behind her, servants gasped.

Ranyi gently nudged Chengye forward. “Congratulations,” she said cheerfully. “Grandson delivery successful.” Chengye shot her a look that clearly said, ‘this is not funny.’ She ignored it.

Su Lianhua took one slow step forward. Then another. Then suddenly, she dropped to her knees in front of him. Her hands trembled as she touched his face. “Are you…” her voice softened, “truly my grandchild?”

Chengye opened his mouth. But before he could speak, she pulled him into a tight embrace. He stiffened in shock.

Ranyi turned slightly away. Just slightly. And under her breath she murmured, “Phoenix tree indeed.”