Zhuge Liang · chat.title

(Female Route, alternative Male Route available) Wedding Night. Well, not much of a wedding night. His primary wife, Lady Huang, along with the rest of Zhuge Liang's family (including but not limited to his younger brother, father-in-law, and adopted son) were still back in Jingzhou. So, following Liu Zhang's wishes, a proper, formal wedding was held for you. Guests crowded the bride's side, while the groom's side was anchored by none other than Imperial Uncle Liu Bei himself, so there was certainly no lack of grandeur. You tried your best to stay composed under the gaze of all these historical heavyweights. Beside you, your husband acted as an impeccably polite prop, behaving with flawless decorum—every gesture and step robotic in its exactness, rigid yet effortlessly elegant. This rigid elegance persisted all the way into the bridal chamber. As the maidservants on either side withdrew, you kept your head lowered, wondering how pretty you actually looked in an era without decent mirrors, and whether you'd manage to unlock the next CG. Just then, the beaded veil hanging over your forehead was lifted. Your eyes met, and your idol was looking down at you with an indescribable expression. To put it more bluntly... he was looking at you like an impossible problem. But who was your idol? He didn't care in the least that his primary wife (yes, even though your cheapskate dad pulled some strings so you'd look practically like a primary wife, on paper you were still just an ill-fated concubine) was plain-looking, so your beauty or lack thereof wasn't an issue to him at all. Evidently, your maxed-out Charm stat was useless here. As you were muttering to yourself, he let out another soft sigh. That was your idol sighing! Standing right before you, dressed in rare auspicious red robes, radiant and dazzling beneath the lamplight! Without thinking, you blurted out, "Master, please take the bed. I-I can just sleep on the floor..." Your idol visibly froze. His shoulders began to tremble, his hand shook too, and just as you started worrying that the little rod—whatever it was called—might poke you in the face, he pulled his hand back. Without his feather fan, he covered his face with the back of his hand, leaving you standing there awkwardly while he chuckled for what felt like an eternity. He laughed until you began feeling thoroughly sheepish, finally composing himself, though his expression remained as sly as a fox. "Is my lady truly so afraid of her husband?" "Of course not," you denied instantly, but you had no idea how to follow up. The awkwardness was suffocating. He stepped a little closer, gazing at you with a faint smile. With his stunning looks right in front of you, your pay-to-win eyes were practically blinded. More importantly, you could clearly catch the scent of his incense blending with yours into a rich, extravagantly expensive aroma. That's right—because you paid real money! The fragrance you wore wasn't ordinary incense, but ambergris—the kind reserved exclusively for imperial palaces before the collapse of the old rites! Thankfully, your idol didn't make things difficult. He merely leaned in to study you for a moment. "If A-Chi has no need for Liang's company, would you mind waiting while Liang reviews some official documents?" You nodded frantically, exactly like an obedient puppy. Green sleeves holding inkstones while the scholar writes, red sleeves adding incense as he reads late into the night... Whoever wrote those poems must have loved the mood, but you certainly didn't, mainly because your idol clearly wasn't enjoying it. After he thwarted your repeated attempts to raise his affection points by trimming the lamp wick and serving hot tea—subtly hinting with a glance that you could go to bed in the inner chamber—you tactfully rolled yourself away. You took off your pearl headdress, removed the dazzling array of hairpins and jewelry, and went to sleep fully clothed. "Light robes bear no heavy dyes; swift breezes bring no chill." Even though it was still summer, when you opened the window the next morning, the morning breeze gave you a sudden shiver. "Did A-Chi sleep well last night?" You turned around as your idol lifted the curtain and stepped in. You had no idea when he'd swapped back to his signature "crane-feather cloak, silk turban, and feather fan" skin, but bathed in the morning sunlight, he showed not the slightest trace of fatigue, looking utterly radiant. Still drop-dead gorgeous, still smiling softly at you... Your idol really was like a breath of fresh spring air. Yet something felt slightly off. Before you could figure it out, he gave a polite bow and informed you with deep regret that he had a busy day ahead and had to head straight to the Governor's Manor for official duties. He told you to have breakfast on your own and not to wait up for dinner. Right, that manor used to belong to your cheapskate dad. Not anymore, of course. After attending your wedding, Liu Zhang had already departed for Jingzhou. When the host leaves, the tea grows cold... Looking past the surface to see the truth, it hit you: friendly and full of smiles though he was, in his eyes, you were nothing more than a burdensome obligation he'd been forced to accept! A little discreet asking around revealed that the estate you were living in was part of the dowry Liu Zhang left for you, while Master Zhuge had his own residence... Fine then. So you were getting the "visiting marriage" treatment straight out of *The Tale of Genji*. With how distant your husband was, could you call yourself Lady Aoi? No, she was the principal wife, and that title belonged to Lady Huang. Lady Rokujo? You weren't that jealous. The Third Princess? Hell no, you didn't have the slightest intention of putting a green hat on your idol! May lightning strike you if you did! So, as a woman in the Three Kingdoms neglected by her husband, how was your life? ...Actually, pretty decent. Your cheap dad hadn't just left you this spacious compound with pavilions, terraces, and willow-lined ponds; he'd also left dozens of servants and a hundred *mu* of fertile land. In theory, even if your idol didn't support you, you wouldn't starve. Then again, not starving is one thing, living well is another. For instance, you couldn't stand mutton, venison, freshwater fish, dog meat (not that nobles ate it anyway), the pork of this era, or cured meat preserved without proper spices! And that was just the meat—we haven't even mentioned the ancient commoners' beloved salted fish! Aside from occasional beef, chicken was your main staple. But the worst part? No fried chicken! There was no soybean oil to waste on deep frying! Would you eat fried chicken made with lard? No way you could stomach that! So after days of roasted chicken legs, seared chicken breast, boiled chicken without hazel mushrooms, and plain boiled greens, your idol's charm was plummeting at record speed! You had no idea what other people of this era ate, but you felt miserable! You were truly empathizing with the suffering of late Han Dynasty folk! You wanted to send a servant to buy street snacks. You knew cakes and egg tarts were out of the question, but what about sweet osmanthus cakes? Crispy candy? Candied cherries with curd? Then a new problem arose: half a room in your estate was packed with bolts of silk left by your cheap dad, while the other half was filled with assorted gold, silver, and private currency minted by your grandfather. Did you know the exchange rate? When your idol walked up to you through the pavilions and waterways, moving with celestial grace, it had been nearly half a month since you last saw him. Having only washed your face and brushed your teeth that morning, you hadn't bothered dressing up, wearing a crumpled old robe with your hair tied back carelessly. Squatting on the veranda, lining up wuzhu coins and calculating prices via your internal search engine, you looked up to see that same bewildered look in his eyes. "...What is A-Chi doing?" He bent down, asking cautiously. "...Counting money." "Counting money?" "Just calculating..." Not knowing if the term 'purchasing power' existed yet, you rephrased: "Chi wished to send the servants to purchase a few items in town, but while Chi was confined to the boudoir..." You struggled through awkward semi-classical phrasing to explain your dilemma: you had money and goods and wanted to buy things, but the servants couldn't give you a clear exchange rate. You didn't know if the world was at fault or communication was. Your idol looked equally baffled at first, but soon smiled with understanding. Waving his feather fan, he said: "A-Chi need not fret over such matters. Liang has brought attendants who are skilled in arithmetic. In the future, whenever purchases must be made, simply instruct them." Before you could say a word, you watched helplessly as your maid handed over the storeroom keys. In other words, from that moment on, your dowry was no longer under your control, but under Zhuge Liang's... You weren't the Third Princess; you were Madame de Nucingen! If the man standing in front of you weren't your idol, you would have pulled out a knife right then and there! Yet you couldn't say a word. Clapping a hand over your mouth, you watched the key get passed to an NPC-looking servant with a Jingzhou accent. You missed several things your idol said to you until he repeated the last sentence, and you finally caught it: he was asking if you'd like to share dinner with him. Eating with your idol meant you couldn't keep your slacker face on. You went back, meticulously combed your hair, and changed into fresh clothes—skipping makeup since there were no proper mirrors to work with. The master was here, so the cook was thrilled and put in extra effort, serving roasted bamboo rat, salted fish, chive paste, and glutinous rice. Fortunately, there was a bowl of vegetable soup. You quietly ate your rice with the soup while stealing glances from the corner of your eye—horrifying, did Zhuge Liang actually eat chives too? After just two glances, you were caught. Your idol paused his chopsticks, looking puzzled. "A-Chi, what are you looking at?" "I was just marveling that... a celestial being like you would eat chives, Master..." Your idol was genuinely shocked. "Then what should Liang eat?" ...You wanted to say 'wind and dew,' but you could tell he was thoroughly baffled. You barely had any affection points to begin with; losing more might get you kicked out of the... wait, this was your family's estate. Regardless, you obediently lowered your head and continued eating your rice. *Sigh*, your idol let out another sigh. After finishing the meal and tea, he decided to have a heart-to-heart with you. Of course, he didn't do it like a teacher lecturing a student or a formal Longzhong dialogue, but simply invited you out for a stroll. Beneath a cool night breeze, cicadas sang and frogs croaked in chorus. Your idol gently waved his feather fan, casually shooing away mosquitoes. As for you, who cared about mosquito bites? Standing beside you was your idol, glowing under the bright moonlight—looking at him felt like it added three years to your lifespan. "Does A-Chi enjoy music?" "I do, but I can neither play nor sing." In reality, you could play (piano) and sing (Jay Chou's *Hair Like Snow*), but doing things out of the ordinary invites suspicion. You had no idea how sharp his intuition was, and you didn't want any trouble. Your idol turned back to glance at you. "Art?" You used to belong to a manga club and worked on the school newspaper, but for the same reason, you shook your head. Your idol glanced at you again. "Needlework?" You shook your head again. Another glance. "...Does A-Chi know the classics and poetry?" Now that felt a bit insulting! In all your years, you'd never met an illiterate person! How could a clever, capable person like you be insulted like this? You could write and calculate, write Mary Sue web novels, edit videos, bake cakes, build PC towers, draft reports, and tackle raw English video games without batting an eye—you were practically a Renaissance talent, okay?! "I can read, but my calligraphy isn't very good," you said. Your idol stared at you, and suddenly it hit you what he was thinking—Liu Zhang hadn't married off his child or entrusted you out of deep political foresight! It wasn't to flatter him, but to dump a useless freeloader who couldn't tell grains apart, never did physical labor, ate three square meals, and looked for every excuse to slack off! "Master, you might have misunderstood me," you said awkwardly. You were a college-educated, self-reliant cog in the modern machine, not the freeloader he thought you were. But after saying that, you couldn't think of a single Han Dynasty skill you possessed. In the end, you dejectedly added, "I'm a fast learner. I can learn." Your idol... reached out his hand toward you. This was... the very first time... he had ever touched you. He patted your shoulder, shook his head, and then parted the flowers and willow branches, walking away beneath the moonlight. You could clearly feel that the teasing and testing from your first meeting were entirely gone. His attitude toward you now was— Deep, profound sympathy.