Chapter Text
Yu Ziyuan’s son is acting weird, so is her husband. Her son, her poor sweet A-Cheng, reserved, quiet, too quiet, has he always been like this? Why is he so quiet? Is something wrong with him? Did someone do something to him? Her A-Cheng is too quiet, especially for someone his age, maybe she should let a healer take a look at him, maybe they can see if something’s wrong.
And her husband! Why is he acting so odd? She can’t quite put to words how he’s being odd, but he just is! Case in point, they are currently eating dinner, and he??? keeps??? staring???? at her??????? Why is he staring? Why does he keep staring? Is there something on her face? She can already feel her face heating up a bit, so she does what she does best, she puts down her chopsticks and looks at Jiang Fengmian dead in the eyes, one of her brows raised, he blushes and quickly looks down, as if his bowl of soup was the most interesting thing at the moment.
She sighs and continues eating. Honestly this whole thing’s a headache, she just wakes up one day in her old body, and suddenly her son and husband start acting weird. She doesn’t know what led to this or how she got back in time, or was her previous experience all a dream? But it all felt so real. All the emotions she felt, being killed, being dead. Or maybe, she’s in a dream, of sorts. She doesn’t know how, doesn’t know who’s. Is it her dream? Do dead people dream? Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe she’s just trying too hard to make sense of something that refuses to make sense.
It’s later in the day when she gets another confirmation that her husband is acting weird. She’s combing her hair, getting ready for bed when she gets a knock on her door. Now who the fuck could it be at this time of night. “Come in.” she says after a sigh. Her eyes widen slightly when it turns out to be her husband.
“My lady” he greets, she hums in response. “I - well, I was wondering if.. If you know, I-”
“Spit it out Fengmian”... she hears him take a breath, “Well, I was thinking about A-Cheng…” she finally turns to face him, “What about A-Cheng?” she challenges, her icy stare shows she’s ready to defend her son’s honor. “Well I’m worried about him,” she raises her brow, a little bit shocked at the admittance, a little bit worried on what he’s worried about, and a lot ready to hear and close herself off at the inevitable talking down about her precious-
“Don’t you think he’s too quiet?”... “L-like- I mean, he barely talks most of the time and he barely has any fun and-” he’s rambling, and she knows he knows he’s rambling.
“It’s probably just some sort of phase,” she firmly states to stop her husband’s rambling, “he probably thinks he’s too mature for ‘fun’” she continues
“B-but he’s a child-” her husband starts before she interrupts him once again, “He’s a sect heir. And he has been reading a lot of books currently, he probably read somewhere that sect heirs are meant to be 'prim and proper' or whatever. It’ll probably pass. Nothing to be too worried about” she lies, maybe if she keeps lying, convinces her husband of her lies, then maybe, just maybe, she can convince herself that everything’s fine, that nothing’s wrong with her perfect, precious little A-Cheng.
Her words, lies, were said with such finality that her husband couldn’t help but just say a little “I see, well, good night my lady. I apologize for taking too much of your time.”