BDSMST -Chapter 19 A Midnight Heart-to-Heart — The Subtle Shift in a Mother–Son Relationship

The heat of the summer night finally faded, replaced by a refreshing coolness.

A bright full moon hung high in the sky, its silvery light casting a gentle glow over the entire estate.

In the courtyard, frogs croaked and insects chirped in overlapping rhythms, forming a tranquil symphony of summer.

After dinner, Jiang Suisui and Gu Xuan each carried a small stool and sat beneath the crooked-neck tree in the yard to enjoy the evening breeze.

Inside the house, Chunxing mended the clothes they had changed out of during the day, sewing by the light of an oil lamp. Li Si and the others had already gone to rest.

The courtyard was so quiet that only the two of them remained.

Gu Xuan was in exceptionally good spirits today. He had eaten his fill and witnessed the cabbage he had grown turn into a dish of astonishing flavor.

Leaning back on his stool, he gazed up at the countless stars.

In the capital, the night sky was never this bright, nor this full of stars. The towering walls of the Marquis’ residence had separated heaven and earth—and had also cut off this natural grandeur.

For the first time, he realized that the countryside night held its own unique charm.

After watching the stars for a while, he sneaked a glance at Jiang Suisui sitting quietly beside him.

Under the moonlight, the outline of her profile appeared especially soft. Without the daytime chill and sternness, there was a trace of tranquility—even one she herself had not noticed.

She was unlike any woman he had seen in the Marquis’ residence.

His grandmother was dignified and noble; his birth mother gentle and virtuous; the concubines in the household were all beautiful and competitive, vying for favor.

Every day, they thought about how to please his father and grandfather, how to wear the finest clothes and the most expensive jewelry.

But this woman wore patched coarse cloth and dealt daily with soil and manure. She could farm, raise pigs, repair roofs—she even seemed to know more than the most experienced estate stewards.

What kind of person was she?

The question had lingered in Gu Xuan’s heart like a small seed for a long time.

Tonight, under the beautiful moonlight and in the comfort of a full stomach, he finally could not hold it in.

“Hey,” he kicked a small stone with his toe, speaking as if casually, “how do you… know so much? Aren’t you… a merchant’s daughter?”

In his understanding, even if a merchant’s daughter was not as noble as someone from the Marquis’ residence, she should still have delicate hands untouched by kitchen water, spending her days studying music, chess, painting, and cosmetics.

Jiang Suisui turned her head and looked at him.

The moonlight reflected in her dark eyes, making them appear deep and calm.

“Who told you that a merchant’s daughter can’t do anything?” she asked in return.

Gu Xuan faltered. “The books… the books say so.”

She let out a soft laugh, clear in the still night.

“What’s written in books isn’t always true.”

She turned her gaze back to the sky, her voice becoming distant.

“When I was very young, my family’s business once ran into serious trouble. We nearly couldn’t survive. The servants all left, and my parents worried day and night. Watching their hair turn white almost overnight, I thought—I couldn’t be useless.”

Of course, she could not reveal that she had transmigrated here. So she borrowed the background of her current identity and crafted a half-true story.

“At that time, our estate outside the city was just as desolate as this place. I volunteered to move there with a few loyal old servants. No one taught me—I had to figure it out myself. I watched other farmers, asked experienced stewards for advice. When I tilled the soil poorly, my hands blistered and bled. When I sowed seeds unevenly, the seedlings grew sparse and thin. The first year’s harvest was pitiful. After paying taxes, there wasn’t even enough to fill our stomachs.”

Gu Xuan listened quietly. He could almost picture a small girl about his age, awkwardly swinging a hoe and stumbling in the fields.

“But I didn’t give up,” Jiang Suisui said, her voice carrying a steady strength. “Because I knew that if I did, we would truly have nothing left. A person can’t always rely on others. Mountains collapse if you lean on them; people leave if you depend on them. Only by relying on yourself—on your own hands—can you earn what truly belongs to you.”

“What happened after that?” Gu Xuan couldn’t help asking.

“After that, the estate gradually improved. The vegetables I grew and the chickens I raised became the best within a hundred miles. With the money I earned, I helped my family through the crisis.”

She turned to look at him, her gaze profound.

“So, Gu Xuan, I’m not teaching you these things to torment you or to make you a farmer. I just want you to understand one truth—whether you become the noble heir of the Marquis’ residence or an ordinary man, having a skill that allows you to survive is more important than anything else. Do you understand?”

Gu Xuan stared at her blankly.

It was the first time she had spoken to him so calmly, so sincerely.

He had always believed she made him work to take revenge on him, to grind him down.

But now, he suddenly felt… that perhaps he had wronged her.

He couldn’t fully grasp everything she said. But the words rely on yourself drove into his heart like a nail.

He thought of the first rabbit he caught, the first egg he harvested, the first cabbage he grew.

The feeling of creating food and value with his own hands truly felt more solid, more joyful, than having delicacies served to him effortlessly at the Marquis’ residence.

He fell silent for a long time—so long that Jiang Suisui thought he had fallen asleep.

Then, in a near whisper, he asked softly, “Then… later on… did your hands still hurt?”

He was asking about the little girl in her story—the one whose palms were covered in blisters.

Jiang Suisui paused. Then the gentleness in her eyes could no longer be hidden.

She reached out and gently ruffled his soft, fluffy hair.

“It stopped hurting a long time ago,” she said.

Gu Xuan did not pull away.

He only felt that this “bad woman’s” hand seemed… rather warm.

The summer night was long and quiet.

And something, without a sound, was changing.