The Aloof Lord's Mysterious Wife
Chapter 604: Will the Death God Grant a Son? Wishing for a Big, Plump Baby Boy

Chapter 604: Will the Death God Grant a Son? Wishing for a Big, Plump Baby Boy

Xie Beihan paused, then muttered, "Why does the Death God also love red date cake, just like my sixth sister."

The shopkeeper, not paying this any mind, picked up the painting again. "Lord Xie, this painting is authentic! If it’s fake, I’ll refund you tenfold!"

Xie Beihan chuckled. "You crafted such an exciting story to sell a painting. If you’re not making money, who is?"

The shopkeeper put on a serious face. "This story has been passed down in the Han family for generations. They had no choice but to sell this painting and told me this tale so I could relay it to buyers. It’s truly a Death God image, deserving of sincere worship, not desecration."

Otherwise, calamity would follow.

Xie Beihan looked again at the woman in the painting and asked, "How much?"

The shopkeeper raised three fingers.

"Three hundred taels?" Xie Beihan asked. "Fine, wrap it up."

Even if this wasn’t a true Death God image, the woman in the painting was elegant and mysterious enough to be worth displaying at home.

The shopkeeper’s eyes widened. "Lord Xie, since when have you been so thrifty? Three hundred taels don’t match your noble, wealthy aura! It’s three thousand taels!"

"Three thousand taels?!" Xie Beihan’s face changed, and he immediately shook his head. "You know my cousin was convicted of treason. It’s already a miracle my Marquis Zhenbei Estate wasn’t implicated; I’m practically penniless now. I’m earnest here—give me your bottom price."

The shopkeeper’s lips twitched; he hadn’t seen bargaining like this before. "Two thousand taels, no less."

Xie Beihan’s eyes glinted as he raised his chin, "Five hundred taels."

"No way! This is a masterpiece by the famous painter Han! Eighteen hundred taels!"

"Five hundred."

"Lord Xie, look closely; this painting is over a thousand years old. Fifteen hundred taels, my final offer!" The shopkeeper hadn’t realized Xie Beihan was now so frugal. Before, he’d buy anything in the black market without blinking.

"Five hundred," Xie Beihan insisted. Seeing the shopkeeper wavering, he turned to leave, "Take it or leave it. I’m not that desperate to buy it."

The shopkeeper quickly pulled him back. "Fine, fine, five hundred it is."

Delighted, Xie Beihan handed over the silver notes, taking the painting with satisfaction before riding his carriage home, pleased with the good bargain.

On the carriage, he opened the painting again, squinting. "Why does she look a bit like my sixth sister?" But it was only a partial profile, so he shrugged and re-rolled the painting.

When he returned home, it was past noon. He took the painting to Empress Xie’s quarters only to learn she’d gone to White Horse Temple with Fan Yunxi to stay for a while to pray. Fan Yunxi had left him a note, and reading her handwriting, he smiled softly with a trace of warmth.

"If a couple can just communicate openly, then married life can be full of love," he thought.

Despite feeling somewhat reassured, Xie Beihan couldn’t completely suppress his worry. He asked a few more questions and learned that the Imperial Guards were also accompanying the group, with their leader personally appointed by Emperor Muwu himself—a figure who was surely trustworthy.

This information allowed him to relax slightly.

Spring had arrived, and in two days, it would be Chu Shuo’s wedding day. As a close friend, Xie Beihan would ordinarily lend a hand with the preparations. However, with Empress Xie’s emotional state being so unstable, he needed to stay by her side constantly. Chu Shuo had already told him to prioritize his own affairs.

Now that he had some free time, he felt he should at least contribute in some way.

It was a pity that Yunqian had gone to Baima Temple and wouldn’t be able to join him at the banquet to congratulate Chu Shuo.

The entire day was consumed with tasks, and by the time Xie Beihan returned to his residence, he collapsed into bed and fell asleep immediately.

The next morning, he awoke with a strange sense of unease. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the feeling. After much deliberation, he took out a scroll painting that had been tucked away, carefully unrolling it and, with genuine reverence, hung it on the wall.

Pressing his palms together, he bowed respectfully before the painting.

"Please, Death God, I don’t ask for wealth, just my family’s safety." He paused, then chuckled, "And who knows if the Death God grants sons... I’d love a plump, healthy boy."

Just then, a servant dashed into the room, shouting breathlessly, "My lord! The chief nanny seems to have gone mad, claiming that Her Majesty intends to use human sacrifices! You must come quickly!"

Xie Beihan froze for a moment, then hastily dressed. Before leaving, he instinctively reached for the divine wooden charm he always carried—by now, it had become a habit.

As he stepped out of his courtyard, he saw the stewardess stumbling toward him.

Normally poised and dignified, the stewardess was now disheveled, her hair in tangles, her clothes filthy, and an overwhelming stench of urine emanating from her.

Xie Beihan instinctively took a step back, but the chief nanny lunged forward, gripping his hand tightly. Her voice was hoarse and urgent: "My lord, disaster is upon us! Her Majesty plans to use living people as sacrifices to help the young master escape from the underworld and reincarnate!"

Her words were clear and coherent—not the ramblings of a madwoman.

Xie Beihan was stunned. "What did you say?"

The nanny, her eyes red with desperation, repeated, "My lord, it’s true! I swear I’m not lying! Her Majesty said the sacrifices are demanded by the Death God."

"But my aunt has left the capital for Baima Temple," Xie Beihan said, still struggling to believe her. "She has been virtuous all her life—how could she do such a thing?"

"She is consumed by her grief for the young master. She would do anything!" the chief nanny cried, her voice breaking. "Nine hundred and ninety-nine people are not easy to capture. Perhaps Her Majesty has not yet carried out the act. My lord, you must stop her before it’s too late!"

Xie Beihan felt his heart sink.

If his aunt had left the capital at this critical time, the stewardess’s claims were likely true.

Thinking of Fan Yunqian, panic surged through him.

"Then my aunt is probably not heading to Baima Temple. Did she mention where the sacrifices would take place?"

The chief nanny hesitated, then shook her head. "Her Majesty didn’t say."

Xie Beihan pressed his lips together in a grim line. "Stay here in the manor and wait."

Wasting no time, he retrieved one of Fan Yunqian’s personal belongings and used a teleportation talisman to arrive at the Prince Yu’s residence.

His sudden appearance startled the guards, who immediately assumed defensive stances. Upon recognizing Xie Beihan, they relaxed slightly, though their weapons remained raised.

Qing Feng hurried over. "Lord Xie? What brings you here, using a teleportation talisman so early in the morning?"

"I need to see Sixth Sister urgently!" Xie Beihan’s face was slick with sweat. "It’s a matter of life and death!"

Seeing his serious demeanor, Qing Feng led him toward the Glazed Pavilion without delay.

At that moment, both Ye Siheng and Nanli had just finished breakfast and were preparing for their respective tasks—one heading to the palace, the other to the Prince’s manor.

When they saw Xie Beihan enter, they were momentarily taken aback.

A faint shadow of darkness had appeared on his forehead.