The Marquis Mansion's Elite Class-Chapter 440

This era placed great importance on heirs, especially for someone like Zong Zhao, who held the title of Great General. His peer, Luo Jingfeng, already had over a dozen children by his age.

Zong Zhao had been back at the estate for eight months, yet Xu Wan still showed no signs of pregnancy. Though her in-laws hadn’t pressed her, she knew they must be anxious.

Xu Wan herself felt uncertain. While she believed Zong Zhao might understand, what if he didn’t? What if he thought she wasn’t prioritizing him? After all, Jin Cheng wasn’t his biological child.

"Alright."

Faced with his wife’s gentle and persuasive words, Zong Zhao felt his heart melt. He kissed her forehead and said, "We’ll wait until Jin Cheng finishes his palace examinations."

Xu Wan’s eyes curved into crescents as she couldn’t help but say, "Zong Zhao, you’re so good—so easy to talk to."

Zong Zhao pecked her lips. "I want a reward."

Xu Wan’s smile vanished instantly. She pinched his cheeks, pretending to scold him. "No more rewards for you, always asking for them!"

Though his face was squished, Zong Zhao’s eyes only sparkled with greater amusement.

After a playful tussle, they finally settled back to their meal.

Cui Liu entered nervously, carrying a bowl of contraceptive soup, barely daring to breathe for fear of walking into an argument between her masters.

A quarrel between them was trivial—but losing triple wages was serious.

At this moment, Cui Liu missed Cui Zhi dearly. At least her sister could’ve given her some advice.

Before she could even see them, Xu Wan’s laughter rang out.

Cui Liu froze. Has Madam not told the Great General yet? If I walk in now, won’t I be inviting trouble?

She hesitated, even considering retreating to give Xu Wan more time to explain, lest she and the soup both get thrown out.

But before she could flee, Xu Wan spotted her and called out, "Cui Liu, is the medicine ready? Bring it here."

Cui Liu: "!!!"

Here it comes—the storm.

How should she place the bowl? Quickly, right? Otherwise, if the Great General got angry and threw the soup at her, what then?

Her heart pounded wildly. Then Zong Zhao asked, "Contraceptive soup?"

The pounding turned thunderous. Cui Liu set the tray down on the side table, blurted, "This servant takes her leave!" and bolted without looking back.

Xu Wan held the dark, bitter concoction, chuckling. "Yes, it’s contraceptive soup. Cui Liu probably thought you’d be furious—she ran off in terror."

Zong Zhao frowned, genuinely displeased. "I’ll be more careful from now on. This isn’t good for your health."

Xu Wan’s eyes curved again. "How thoughtful. Then I’ll leave it to the Great General to figure out alternative measures?"

"Mm." Zong Zhao handed her candied fruit to ease the bitterness after she drank.

Xu Wan grinned. "Sweet."

And just like that, the matter of the contraceptive soup passed without incident.

Days later, Cui Liu finally relaxed when no outburst came from the Great General. Thank goodness, my triple wages are safe. She silently wished the couple endless sweetness.

Ninth day of the first lunar month.

It was time again to administer acupuncture to the Crown Prince. The Little Demon King, having missed him dearly, insisted on tagging along, so Xu Wan brought him.

But this day was unlike any other.

After Zong Zhao treated the Crown Prince alone, the prince regained his hearing—a fact Zong Zhao shared with no one but Xu Wan.

"Your Highness, it’s me, Zong Zhao. I’ve returned."

The Crown Prince lay motionless on the bed, seemingly comatose as always, with no reaction in his limbs or expression.

But he heard.

Like a wanderer lost in fog suddenly hearing a voice calling him back to reality.

The Crown Prince recognized Zong Zhao’s voice—older, steadier, but unmistakably his. He really is alive. He came back.

And… I’m not dead?

He remembered the imperial physicians declaring that day his limit. How was he still alive?

Was this the underworld or the mortal realm?

Zong Zhao continued softly, "You’ve been unconscious for eight months. Luo Jingfeng has acknowledged Jin Cheng as his son during this time. But don’t worry—Jin Cheng has been raised well. Luo Jingfeng even abandoned his push to depose you because of him."

The Crown Prince felt relieved.

Jin Cheng had turned out well. As long as the boy wasn’t influenced by the Luo brothers, he remained Great Chu’s future hope.

Zong Zhao added, "But Your Highness, we trusted the wrong person. I did too. We’ve paid dearly for it. Yet I won’t accept this fate. I’ll lead you, and everyone else, down the only path—the right one."

The Crown Prince’s heart lurched.

Who did I misplace my trust in? And who betrayed Zong Zhao?

His own price was near-death, but what was Zong Zhao’s? Those ten missing years?

Zong Zhao didn’t elaborate, only saying, "Jin Cheng wants to see you. I didn’t tell him you can hear now. Listen to him—children can be noisy, but maybe that’s exactly what you need."

True enough, the Crown Prince mused.

After lying here so long in silence, the boy’s lively chatter would be a comfort.

Soon, Jin Cheng bounded in, plopping down beside the bed with dramatic flair. "Your Highness! I missed you so much! I wanted to visit earlier, but Dad kept saying I’d disturb your recovery. How could I? You love me! Maybe seeing my adorable face would’ve cheered you up so much you’d jump right out of bed!"

The Crown Prince wanted to laugh.

The boy hadn’t changed—still effortlessly uplifting. If only his body could respond.

Noticing they were alone, the Little Demon King sneakily slipped his hand under the covers, grasping the prince’s. "Huh? Your hand’s warmer than before! Even in summer, it used to be cold, no matter how many heaters you hugged. But now it’s toasty!"

The Crown Prince, though only his hearing had returned, understood—the boy was holding his hand.

Jin Cheng babbled on, "Dad’s the best! He fixed your cold hands—soon he’ll wake you up completely, healthy and plump!"

The Crown Prince caught the key detail: Zong Zhao saved me.

Had Zong Zhao returned just in time that day?

He ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‍remembered the sixteen-year-old Zong Zhao knew no medicine. To think he could now revive someone at death’s door—what extraordinary experiences had he had in those missing years?

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