IDWBE -Chapter 453 Expectations

He had been born into poverty. The first half of his life was spent in hardship; the second half, he had suddenly risen to prosperity. Even now, it all felt somewhat unreal.

But the greatest surprise of his life was still his daughter, Jiang Zhen.

No matter how he thought about it, he could never have imagined that the scruffy little girl he once disliked would grow into someone with such authority and presence.

Even after all these years, he still remembered the day she was born.

The sun had just set behind the hills when his wife looked at the dark clouds filling the sky and sighed, saying heavy rain was coming.

In Sanhe, rain came whenever it pleased, without warning. Everyone was used to it.

But his wife had always hated it.

The endless downpour battered their thin roof. Before long, the house would be soaked through—inside no different from outside.

She was unhappy, reluctant—but what choice did she have?

With her swollen belly, she bent down with difficulty and dragged the wooden bucket they used for pig offal into the house, placing it beneath the section of roof that still hadn’t been repaired from last time, to catch the rainwater.

Just as she was about to rest, a sharp pain seized her abdomen.

Jiang the Butcher heard a scream. Realizing something was wrong, he rushed inside to find his wife writhing on the floor in agony, drenched in sweat.

As he stood there stunned, she shouted at him to fetch a midwife.

They had agreed not to hire one. Chen Xilian—that young woman—might be only sixteen, but she still expected payment.

In Baiyun City, most women gave birth at home with the help of family elders.

Hiring a midwife was practically unheard of.

But after all, she was his wife. He couldn’t bear her miserable cries. Ignoring his mother’s objections, he grabbed two copper coins and a slab of pig liver and went to invite Chen Xilian.

The firewood in the kitchen was damp. He tried again and again to light a fire to boil water for Chen Xilian, but failed. In the end, his mother managed to get it started.

Night fell. Thunder roared and rain lashed down.

In his anxiety and fear, he finally heard a loud, clear cry.

He had been crouched by the stove for warmth. The moment he heard it, he darted out—only to see his mother emerging from the room with a dark expression.

She kept muttering about “a money-losing girl.”

His heart sank. The son he had hoped for was not to be.

Still, whether boy or girl, it was his child. He tried to go inside to look—but his mother scolded him back.

“What are you doing? Going in to bring bad luck?” she snapped. “Tell me, how useless must that belly be? After eating so many fish of mine!”

The baby’s cries gradually drowned out the storm outside, making him even more restless. He had no patience to argue with his mother and rushed into the other room.

Without even taking a deep breath, he could smell the heavy, bloody odor in the damp air.

His wife lay on a makeshift bed of two wooden planks, covered in sweat, unconscious. Beside her was a naked infant, crying blankly to the world.

It was the first time in his life he had become a father.

Looking at the wrinkled, old-man-like baby, he stood helplessly as Chen Xilian washed her hands in a basin full of blood-tinged water.

Unable to hold back, he said, “Little sister…”

“Mother and daughter are safe,” Chen Xilian replied calmly after finishing. “Your pig liver wasn’t wasted. Luckily you fetched me. Otherwise, it would’ve been two corpses.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Jiang the Butcher said repeatedly, cupping his hands in gratitude. Glancing at his still-unconscious wife, he hesitated. “Then… what about her?”

“She walked through the gates of death and came back,” Chen Xilian said with a faint smile. “She’s exhausted. Let her rest.”

“I see.”

He didn’t dare look long at the dirty, wailing baby. Instead, he rushed to his wife’s side, wiping her sweat with a towel.

Occasionally he sneaked glances at the child, but never for long. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t understand how he could have produced such an “ugly” baby.

Chen Xilian seemed to read his thoughts.

“Don’t worry,” she laughed softly. “She’ll grow into herself in a few days. No need to look so troubled.”

“So that’s how it is.”

He let out a long breath of relief.

Chen Xilian wrapped the baby in a rag and placed her against her mother’s chest. He shot her a grateful look.

“I’m leaving now, Brother Jiang,” she said. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I won’t see you off,” he said—but he did, walking her to the door. “The rain is heavy. Why not wait?”

“The old widow of the Liang family begged me earlier,” she replied with a smile. “I must go.”

He nodded. “Then travel carefully.”

On that thunderous night, Liang Yuanzhi was born just one hour after his daughter.

Other men’s wives gave birth to sons; his gave birth to a daughter. At first, he had been deeply unhappy.

But as his daughter grew cuter by the day, his hardened heart slowly melted.

As long as she could eat her fill, what did it matter how much he suffered?

Later, when Prince He entered Sanhe and opened free schools, Jiang the Butcher had been among the few who eagerly sent their children.

The Prince’s residence bought meat exclusively from him. Only he knew how good that meat was.

He couldn’t even bear to let his own daughter eat too much of it.

But at school? Meat was unlimited!

He didn’t care about etiquette, about men and women sitting separately. As long as his daughter had food, that was enough.

What he never expected was that his casual decision would bear fruit beyond imagination. His daughter turned out far more capable than his son, who only knew how to eat, drink, and idle about. She outshone many men of Baiyun City.

When she entered the city that evening, commanding troops with such imposing authority—even he, her father, felt his blood surge.

As Deng Ke liked to say: her future was limitless.

And what pleased him most was that no matter how formidable she became, she was still his daughter. She couldn’t escape his palm.

Yet now, the way she spoke to him—so polite, so distant—left him utterly bewildered.

This reunion was nothing like he had imagined.

As he hesitated, unsure how to respond, Deng Ke interjected: “Your father spared no effort for you. Just wait till you see the house. Those rich landlords in Ankang are ruthless—asking a thousand taels for it! Normally we could’ve taken our time choosing, but everything was rushed. We even pulled strings at the Prefectural Office to get the deed processed immediately.”

Jiang Zhen smiled. “Many thanks to Father.”

The more respectful she was, the more uncomfortable Jiang the Butcher felt.

“I’m your father. It’s only right,” he said awkwardly. “Let’s hurry. Curfew is near. The constables are acquaintances, but we shouldn’t make things difficult for them.”

The wind and snow lashed fiercely.

To develop the southern economy, the South Gate remained open twenty-four hours a day unless there was an emergency. Even now, carriages passed in and out.

Mostly southern trade caravans braving the winter.

But there were also vegetable farmers from the southern outskirts.

Since Prince He promoted greenhouse farming in the north, winter no longer meant barren fields. Fresh greens now appeared even in the coldest months.

In Ankang City, vegetables sometimes cost more than pork.

More than once, Jiang the Butcher and Zhu Ruorong had half-joked about abandoning meat to grow vegetables instead.

But after so many years in business, they knew their limits. Farming wasn’t for them.

Deng Ke’s rubber-wheeled carriage creaked through the snow until they reached the “Heaven on Earth” district outside the South Gate.

Those four characters—Heaven on Earth—were personally inscribed by Prince He.

Because of that, brothels of every size clustered around the area. In just half a year, it had become a bustling red-light district.

Even in the snow, customers came and went.

Zhu Ruorong laughed loudly. “Lord He Jixiang’s strategy is brilliant! Curfew inside the city means pleasure-seekers all come outside!”

Deng Ke shot him a warning glance.

Since entering the district, Jiang Zhen’s expression had grown increasingly cold. And he was still babbling on?

Some people, Deng Ke thought, got rich purely by luck.

When no one responded, Zhu Ruorong fell silent, embarrassed.

The carriage stopped.

They disembarked. Jiang the Butcher carefully supported his daughter down.

Zhu Ruorong stared in disbelief. When had this rough man become so gentle?

And to his daughter, no less.

A short, chubby man hurried out from behind the screen wall of the grand residence and bowed deeply.

“Master, Miss!”

Jiang Zhen stared at him. “Zhang Shun?”

“With Miss’s sharp memory—it is indeed this old servant,” he replied obsequiously.

She smiled faintly. “Shopkeeper Zhang, such titles are too much for me.”

He was none other than the Ye family’s chief steward, lackey of Ye Chen—the younger brother of Grandmaster Ye Qiu.

Why was he here?

Deng Ke quickly explained, “Young Master Ye Chen has returned to Sanhe. Shopkeeper Zhang manages the northern business now. Hearing you’d come, he helped select servants and prepare everything.”

Zhang Shun added with a smile, “We’re all from the same hometown. No hardship at all.”

Just as Jiang the Butcher was about to speak, he heard a cold snort.

He saw his daughter’s stormy expression.

Even a fool would know she was angry.

In the past, he wouldn’t have cared. But times had changed.

Silence fell.

Zhang Shun, unnerved under her gaze, lowered his head. “Constable Jiang must be weary. The maids have prepared hot water.”

“That won’t trouble Shopkeeper Zhang,” she said coolly, striding inside without another word.

After she disappeared, Jiang the Butcher forced a smile. “Sorry for the trouble.”

“She’s an official,” Zhang Shun replied flatly. “People like me are born servants.”

Then he bowed. “I’ve done what I can.”

If she were anyone else, he would never have tolerated such humiliation.

Even in Ankang, where he had little foundation, people still gave him face—because the Ye family had Grandmaster Ye Qiu.

He, Zhang Shun, was the Ye family’s chief steward.

His surname Zhang was the Zhang of arrogance.

How could he endure such insult?

But he left into the snow without another word.

Soon, even Zhu Ruorong and Deng Ke departed.

Only Jiang the Butcher remained.

At last, his daughter returned, freshly washed.

Without being told, servants brought food and wine.

“This place is colder than home,” he said while serving her dishes. “Food is limited in winter. Make do for now.”

She smiled gently. “Father is too polite. When I was young, simply eating my fill made me happy.”

He disliked her tone—but what could he do? She was his daughter.

His flesh and blood.

“Life was hard back then,” he said. “Even surviving was difficult.”

“Indeed,” she replied, rising to pour him wine. “Allow your daughter to toast you—for raising me.”

Something felt off about her words, but he couldn’t pinpoint it.

After three rounds of wine, he was drunk and bleary-eyed. She remained composed.

Finally, he sighed, “You’ve achieved so much—Commander of the Guard Envoys. Your father will benefit from your glory.”

She asked calmly, “Father believes this is a good thing?”

“Of course! The Imperial Palace! Not just anyone can enter!

“Serve Her Ladyship well. The Prince values loyalty. He won’t treat you unfairly. You must work hard and not disappoint the Prince’s expectations.”