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The Nanny Must Get Rid of the Young Lady
墨書 Inktalez
On the wedding night, just as Song Ming and I were about to get intimate, a frantic knocking echoed from outside the door.
“Mr. Song! Your bedtime milk!”
Help, is this nanny some kind of mind reader? She always shows up right on cue to ruin the mood.
Song Ming didn’t seem embarrassed at all; he quickly opened the door and took the milk. “Thank you, Aunt Zhou.”
“Oh dear, you didn’t even lay out Mr. Song’s pajamas properly?”
Aunt Zhou peeked into the room, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “The new bride clearly isn’t attentive enough.”
I was left speechless. Is Aunt Zhou some kind of artificial intelligence? Does she have to manage even the pajamas?
“Aunt Zhou, I can handle this myself,” I said, trying to suppress my frustration.
“By the way, Mr. Song, you have an early meeting tomorrow. I’ll come at five to wake up your wife and prepare breakfast,” Aunt Zhou said with a smile, adding, “After all, newlyweds need to learn.”
Song Ming nodded eagerly. “That sounds good.”
I thought to myself: Am I in a palace drama now?
Just three seconds after she left, there was another urgent knock at the door. “Mr. Song! Your bedtime medicine!”
I just lay back and surrendered to the chaos.
Song Ming obediently opened the door again to receive the medicine.
“Mr. Song! You need to take this while it’s warm. I’ll wait outside until you finish,” Aunt Zhou insisted with an oddly persistent tone.
What? Are you a nanny or a bodyguard?
“That’s not necessary, Aunt Zhou. I can take it myself,” Song Ming replied.
“That’s out of the question! I’ve always had to supervise your medicine since you were little.”
Aunt Zhou squeezed through the door, saying, "Besides, the new lady needs to learn how to take care of you, doesn't she?"
I sat up wrapped in my blanket, watching this chaotic scene unfold, wondering: is this my wedding night or Aunt Zhou's duty night?
Song Ming seemed unfazed. In front of Aunt Zhou, he finished his medicine and even let her check the cup.
"Alright, alright, you two should get some rest," Aunt Zhou finally said, satisfied as she prepared to leave. But before she went, she reminded me, "Remember, I’ll come at five in the morning to teach you how to make congee."
I smiled awkwardly; it was more like I had hired a nanny than a housekeeper.
Once the door finally closed, I sighed in relief and turned to find Song Ming looking innocent.
"Aunt Zhou has taken care of me since I was little; that's just her personality," he said as he made his way to the bed.
I kicked him out: "You should sleep in the study tonight. I'm afraid Aunt Zhou will come back to check on us!"
The sky hadn't even brightened when a loud banging on the door jolted me awake from my dreams.
"Madam! Madam! It's already five oh five!"
Aunt Zhou's voice was more jarring than an alarm clock. "Why aren't you up yet? Mr. Song's breakfast will be late!"
I buried myself under the blanket, praying she'd let me be.
But the next second, the door swung open with a "click."
Goodness, this lady has a key to my room?
"Oh dear, sleeping like a pig," Aunt Zhou said as she yanked my blanket away. "Get up! The congee for the sir needs to simmer for two hours!"
I was stunned. "Two hours? He’s not a panda..."
"Impudent!" Aunt Zhou glared at me. "The sir has a weak stomach and must have freshly made rice congee every morning—every grain must be perfectly cooked!"
I glanced at my phone: 5:07 AM. My mood plummeted. "Aunt Zhou, it's still dark outside..."
"The new bride is just too delicate," Aunt Zhou scoffed. "I don’t understand how your husband picked you, a lazy girl like you. When Miss An was here, she got up every day at four-thirty to prepare."
??? Wait, who is Miss An?
Before I could ask, Aunt Zhou yanked me out of bed. "Hurry up and wash up; I’ll be waiting for you in the kitchen. Today, I’ll teach you how to make porridge, stir-fry some dishes, and prepare your husband’s nutritious meal..."
I stumbled after her into the kitchen, where a mountain of ingredients was already laid out on the counter.
"This is the nutritious meal your husband must have every morning," Aunt Zhou said, counting on her fingers. "A bowl of stomach-nourishing porridge, three side dishes, two boiled eggs, a glass of freshly squeezed juice, and..."
Looking at those ingredients, I couldn’t help but wonder: Is Song Ming really my husband or her son?
"Hey, what are you daydreaming about? Hurry up and wash the rice!" Aunt Zhou tapped the counter. "Remember, the rice must be washed seven times, and the last rinse should be crystal clear!"
I numbly took the bag of rice. Is this the second day of my marriage or the first day of a hellish training camp?
"Oh dear, what kind of rice are you washing? You haven't even filled the bowl!" Aunt Zhou snatched the basin from me. "You really are hopeless at everything. Miss An could wash rice better than you..."
Miss An again? I squinted my eyes, about to ask more when Aunt Zhou suddenly turned serious.
"Stop dawdling! Go chop the vegetables! If you delay your husband from going to work today, just wait to be scolded!"
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