The snow had stopped on the sixth day, though the cold still bit deep, and a little snow remained under the roots of the trees.
When Shen Yujiao reached the stall, she felt an odd, restless nervousness, like someone approaching home after too long away.
She had never felt this way before, even when facing Xie Wuling himself.
But as she stood before him now, separated only by the thin white veil, looking at that face deliberately made ugly, the unease quickly vanished.
Truly, where did he come up with these ridiculous ideas? Dressing up like this…
Even so, no disguise could hide the bright, lively light in those eyes.
He smiled and gestured. “Please, madam, have a seat.”
Shen Yujiao sat down slowly, then turned to the maids. “Wait nearby.”
The maids exchanged looks, wanting to warn her again, but seeing that she had already sat, they quietly stepped back a short distance.
Out of the corner of her eye, Shen Yujiao confirmed that they were neither too close nor too far, then looked at the man before her — Xie Wuling, complete with fake beard and mole.
He seemed even thinner than last time, darker too…
The tan was so even… surely not painted on? Then what had he been doing? Digging gold mines? Or coal mines?
As her thoughts wandered, Xie Wuling spoke first. “What would madam like to know? Family, studies, wealth, marriage, fate, illness, misfortune, lifespan, this poor Daoist can divine them all. If you’ve time to spare, I can even calculate every one for you.”
Shen Yujiao’s brow twitched slightly as she looked at him. “I’d like you to divine the situation of… a friend of mine.”
Xie Wuling said, “May I ask, what is your friend’s surname, and how old are they?”
Shen Yujiao didn’t answer. Seeing paper and brush on the table, she dipped the brush in ink and gently wrote down a single character.
“Sir, you’re so skilled at divination, why not divine based on this one word?”
“Very well. Let me take a look.”
Xie Wuling accepted the paper, lifted his brows at the character Wu, and remarked, “Madam’s handwriting is beautiful, elegant, refined. Clearly from a scholarly family.”
Shen Yujiao couldn’t help but laugh. It was just one word, yet he still found something to praise.
Meanwhile, Xie Wuling had already begun counting on his fingers in mock seriousness. “Hmm, the friend Madam asks about—he eats well, sleeps warmly, and is in fine health. Everything is good… save for one lingering ailment that remains uncured.”
Shen Yujiao frowned. “What kind of ailment?”
Could it be that the arrow wound on his back still hadn’t healed? Or that the ribs he broke last year when he was thrown from a startled horse hadn’t mended?
Xie Wuling had too many injuries for her to know where to begin asking.
But the man across from her looked at her with such open sincerity between his handsome brows and said, “Love-sickness.”
Shen Yujiao: “…”
Xie Wuling sighed. “An old ailment, it’s never healed. Especially on lonely nights or during festivals, the pain in the heart grows worse.”
Shen Yujiao: “…”
The long fingers resting on her knee loosened, then tightened, then loosened again.
One voice said, hit him.
Another voice urged, stay calm—this isn’t the first time you’ve known he can’t be serious.
“It’s good that he’s otherwise well,” she said evenly.
Then, “There’s nothing else I wish to ask. All my family have returned home; we’re reunited and harmonious. My little son is obedient and sensible, never causes me trouble. As for my husband and me…”
She paused, took a quiet breath, and lifted her eyes to meet his. “Though there were quarrels before, we’ve reconciled. He… treats me very well now… yes, very well.”
There were many things she wanted to say, but when it came to it, only those two “very wells” remained.
After all, Pei Xia’s recent treatment of her truly left no fault to find—attentive, considerate, perfect in every regard.
Even her elder brother teased him: “The last person to spoil her like this was our grandfather. The old man doted on her so much she turned into a little tyrant. Whenever I saw her, I’d retreat three steps, afraid she’d swindle me.”
Pei Xia only smiled faintly. “That’s fine. I didn’t get to know her as a child, if I can bring back that temper of hers now, it’ll make up for that regret.”
Her older brother had clicked his tongue and shaken his head. “Shouzhen, you’re done for.”
Then he winked at Shen Yujiao. “During Cold Food Festival this year, burn a few more sticks of incense for our grandparents. Thank them for finding you the best husband under heaven.”
No one failed to praise Pei Shouzhen; no one failed to envy Shen Yujiao.
And gradually, even she began to believe it.
Lowering her eyes, she looked again at Xie Wuling’s smile, frozen in place. “I’ve broken my promise; heaven will punish me. But still, I hope my old friend can let go of the obsession and look forward, move on. To share breath in shallow waters is less than to forget each other upon the rivers and lakes.”
Two fish trapped on dry land, moistening each other with their own breath, perhaps they can survive for a time, but not for life.
Better to part ways: those belonging to the lake, return to the lake; those to the river, return to the river.
“Besides, you are no ordinary creature of the pond—a dragon about to rise among the clouds. You shouldn’t be bound by the trifles of affection.”
Shen Yujiao looked straight at him, speaking each word clearly: “And I am merely a woman of the inner chambers and can only ever be such.”
No grand ambitions, no lofty dreams, only the wish for family reunited, loved ones healthy, days peaceful and smooth.
Xie Wuling stayed silent.
A sharp, cold wind swept past, lifting the corner of the gauze curtain.
He saw her eyes—black as ink, misted like distant mountains, like spring rain that tangles and clings, serene and sorrowful.
His chest tightened.
In that moment, all his resentment, grievance, and bitterness dissipated. He understood her difficulties.
She wasn’t like him; she had too many ties, too many burdens.
To ask her to gamble everything would be unfair.
He’d been reading The Book of Songs lately, and now understood: “When a man falls in love, he may yet free himself; when a woman does, she cannot.”
He had let go of his old prejudices—the book was not all empty words; it held truths indeed.
“Madam, do not reproach yourself.”
Xie Wuling curved his eyes in a light smile. “I understand.”
Shen Yujiao was slightly stunned, then lowered her lashes.
Xie Wuling said softly, “Live your days in peace. Only…”
He too lowered his gaze, long lashes brushing down, his slender fingers pinching the paper with the word Wu. His voice dropped. “Only… don’t forget this ‘Wu.’”
Even if she kept only the smallest space for him—it would be enough.
“Besides,” he said, taking a deep breath, eyes once more bright and shining, “I believe that man can triumph over fate.”
“One day, the ‘Wu’ will turn into ‘You*’, the sickness will be cured, and Madam—if you wish to stay in the inner chambers, stay; if you wish to roam the rivers and lakes, roam; whatever you wish, you may.”
* wu = nothing; you = something
“One day.”
Xie Wuling gazed into her trembling, glimmering eyes, raised his brows, and said with quiet confidence, “My divinations are very accurate. Trust me just once, Madam, you won’t be disappointed.”
In his eyes, Shen Yujiao saw warmth, resolve, and burning behind them a fierce, unyielding ambition.
She also understood that what he meant by “one day, sooner or later” most likely referred to the day the throne changed hands.
If it had been about anything else, Shen Yujiao would have said, “Alright, I believe you.”
But when it came to a matter of life and death like the struggle for imperial succession, she didn’t want to dampen his hopes but she had to.
“The situation at court is turbulent and treacherous,” she said softly. “A single misstep could lead to ruin…”
Xie Wuling replied, “Madam doesn’t believe me?”
Shen Yujiao was momentarily choked for words. “It’s not a matter of belief or disbelief…”
Xie Wuling’s jaw tensed. After a brief silence, his dark eyes fixed deeply on her. “Believe or not, I’ll wager on it all the same.”
In the past, when he used to hang around underground gambling dens, he despised those hopeless gamblers, saw them as greedy, foolish, and beneath contempt.
And yet now, he had become one himself.
Not gambling for money, but gambling with his life.
Xie Wuling mocked himself inwardly. If the Xie Wuling from three years ago could see him now, he’d surely curse him as “utterly foolish.”
But who could have imagined that the dirty, disheveled young wife he’d picked up near a small earth temple was actually a fallen immortal?
An immortal should live among the jade pools of Heaven, clad in fine silk, living a celestial life and naturally, only the very best of men could deserve her.
He couldn’t drag her down to roll in the mud with him, so there was only one way—upward. Chasing her, the way one chases the moon.
In ancient times, Kua Fu chased the sun; now there was him, Xie Wuling, chasing the moon.
Shen Yujiao was his moon, the purest, most luminous, most unattainable moon in the sky.
“Madam, you and I share fate. I won’t take payment for this divination,” he said lightly, “but allow me to gift you some talismans and charms to form a good karmic bond.”
Before she could refuse, Xie Wuling pulled out a small gray cloth bag, palm-sized yet heavy and bulging, and held it out to her.
Shen Yujiao was startled. Xie Wuling smiled. “Please take it. Everything inside is useful, wards off misfortune, keeps your household safe and peaceful.”
At the mention of “peace,” Shen Yujiao remembered. “Pingan, he…”
Xie Wuling said, “I’ll come fetch him tomorrow.”
Shen Yujiao relaxed. “Alright.”
Still, she hesitated about accepting that plain, homely cloth bag.
Just then, Madam Xu, who had gone to request a safety talisman, returned, spotted Shen Yujiao at the fortune-telling stall, and came over curiously. “Yuniang, what are you having told?”
Shen Yujiao’s heart skipped. Afraid that Xie Wuling might slip up, she quickly said, “Just something casual…”
Compared to her nervousness, Xie Wuling lied without so much as blinking. Smiling at Madam Xu, he said, “This lady was having her household’s safety read. She drew an extremely auspicious lot.”
At that, Madam Xu beamed. “Truly? How wonderful! Seems today’s trip was well worth it.”
Then she added, “Since we’re here, I might as well have a reading too.”
Xie Wuling shook his head. “Ah, what poor timing. I only divine three lots a day. That last one just now was the third, given to this lady. I cannot divine any more today.”
Madam Xu looked disappointed. “Oh, I see.”
Her gaze fell on the bag on the table. “And this?”
Xie Wuling said, “A gift for this lady—talismans and ritual items. I’ve chanted a special incantation over them; only she may touch them. If anyone else does, the blessing will fade.”
Madam Xu quickly withdrew her reaching hand, embarrassed. “Ah, best not then.”
Watching him half-close his eyes, counting on his fingers and pretending to be a solemn Taoist master and seeing her sister-in-law actually believing it, Shen Yujiao’s face stayed composed, but she was secretly torn between laughter and exasperation.
Madam Xu said, “Yuniang, since the Daoist has given you such a fated gift, accept it. It’s getting late anyway, we should head back.”
Shen Yujiao lifted her eyes and saw Xie Wuling looking at her expectantly, his gaze pleading.
The giver was him; the one longing for her acceptance was also him.
In the end, Shen Yujiao took the bag. It was heavy, yet soft with the feel of paper inside—just as he had said, talismans and charms, perhaps.
She thanked him politely and left with Madam Xu.
Only after they boarded the carriage did Madam Xu suddenly realize, “Wait, why was there a Taoist priest in a temple?”
For some reason, those words conjured an image in Shen Yujiao’s mind of Xie Wuling with his head shaved, pretending to be a monk.
With his fine features and those charming, amorous eyes, even as a monk, he’d hardly be a proper one.
“Yuniang, what are you laughing at?” Madam Xu asked, puzzled.
“Ah?” Shen Yujiao blinked. “Was I laughing?”
“You were, your lips were curling up. What amusing thing came to mind?”
Shen Yujiao shook her head. “Nothing. Just the same question as you, how a Taoist ended up in a temple. Maybe Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism really are one family… or maybe he’s just a wandering charlatan.”
Madam Xu considered seriously. “I actually think that though he’s a bit older and darker, his bone structure is fine, and those bright eyes of his—quite spirited, even a touch otherworldly.”
Shen Yujiao pressed her palm against her mouth, suppressing her laughter.
Inwardly, she cursed that Xie Wuling—too good an actor, tricking even her sister-in-law so easily.
After managing to calm her mood, she quickly changed the subject so Madam Xu wouldn’t continue.
When they finally parted at the market gate, Shen Yujiao reached into a corner of her sleeve and pulled out the gray cloth bag.
Opening it, she froze.
Inside were no talismans or charms, only a thick stack of banknotes worth thousands of taels, and a full set of red-gold jewelry.
Heavy gold bangles, rings, hairpins, and earrings—all newly forged, their brilliance dazzling even in the dim light of the carriage.
Shen Yujiao was momentarily dazzled by the flash of gold, and in that instant, she suddenly recalled, back when they were still in Jinling.
He had once given her a pair of gold leaf earrings as adornment for their wedding, and had promised her that when the yamen issued the year-end payment, he would have a big gold bracelet made for her, so she could spend the New Year in dignity and finery.
Two years later, the long-delayed New Year’s gift had finally arrived.
A full set of gold jewelry, along with most of his savings—he had given them all to her.
Lowering her gaze, Shen Yujiao slid the heavy bracelet onto her wrist. Its weight made it clumsy, gleaming gold and pale white—was it truly beautiful?
But if Xie Wuling were here, he would surely say it was.
Even if she tied a piece of hemp rope around her wrist, he could still find a way to praise it to the skies.
Yet in the end, she put all the jewelry and silver notes back into the cloth pouch—except for the bracelet.
Everything else she handed to Pei Xia that very night.
She didn’t hide from him that she had met Xie Wuling at Dacien Temple; she spoke simply, then added, “He said he’ll come tomorrow to pick up Ping’an. Please return these to him then.”
When Pei Xia heard that Xie Wuling had gone secretly to seek out his wife again, his brows knit slightly.
But seeing that she had explained everything openly, and even given him the silver and jewelry, the stifling irritation in his chest gradually eased.
It wasn’t worth getting angry over that man.
Even less worth letting that man come between him and Yuniang.
He set those worldly things aside and looked at Shen Yujiao again, his expression gentle and composed. “I’ll take care of it. You don’t need to worry.”
When Shen Yujiao met the warmth in his eyes, her heart trembled faintly.
A mix of guilt and something else she couldn’t quite name rose inside her.
She lowered her head.
Pei Xia noticed her sudden quiet. “What is it?” he asked.
The lamplight by the bed was warm and dim, quietly casting a golden glow across her delicate brows and eyes as she lifted them. After a few seconds’ hesitation, she spoke softly, “I… I want to ask you for something.”
Pei Xia’s gaze deepened. “You and I are husband and wife. There’s no need to use the word ask.”
But Shen Yujiao looked uneasy; this was not something she should have brought up with Pei Xia.
And yet she had no choice.
She stood up, facing him solemnly, and bowed deeply. “When the struggle for the throne reaches its end, there will surely be victory and defeat. When that day comes, I beg you… please help him. Spare his life.”
“Just one life, that’s all. Even if you must drive him out of Chang’an, or whatever else…”
Bowing low, she could feel the weight of his gaze fall on her forehead, sharp and cold, almost tangible.
A chill ran down her back.
Nervous, fearful, yet she forced herself to continue: “Just….don’t kill him.”
In her heart, the Third Prince was never suited to be emperor. Besides, with the Second Prince having Pei Xia at his side, his power was already soaring.
On the battlefield, Xie Wuling might be a valiant warrior but in court politics, Pei Xia’s mind was deep and far-seeing, his strategies unmatched, far beyond what others could rival.
Since ancient times, the winner takes the throne and the loser is cast down; once a new emperor ascends, the defeated faction must be purged, washed away in blood.
And Xie Wuling, as the Third Prince’s most trusted general, would almost certainly not meet a good end.
But if Pei Xia were to intercede on his behalf…
“His Highness values you so greatly. If you would speak a few kind words for him, sparing his life shouldn’t be difficult.”
Shen Yujiao lifted her face, her dark eyes gleaming like rippling water beneath the lamplight. “Brother Shouzhen… will you?”
Pei Xia looked at her for a long moment before asking quietly, “And if one day I am the one who loses, will you beg him the same way?”
Shen Yujiao froze.
Her first thought was how could Pei Xia lose?
Her second was Xie Wuling would never kill him.
Xie Wuling… he wouldn’t kill Pei Xia. He just wouldn’t.
Even she was startled by the certainty that came from her own heart.
Suddenly, her wrist was caught. Startled back to herself, she met Pei Xia’s narrow gaze fixed on her.
“Why aren’t you answering?” he asked.
Shen Yujiao’s lips parted slightly. “He won’t kill you,” she said softly.
Pei Xia’s mouth curved faintly. “So sure?”
Shen Yujiao didn’t know why she was so certain, only that she was…instinctively.
Yes, Xie Wuling knew how deeply she owed Pei Xia, knew he was the father of her child, knew that killing Pei Xia would break her heart.
And he would never do anything to make her sad.
Pei Xia, ever perceptive, caught the shifting light in her eyes and let out a soft, humorless laugh. “So in Yuniang’s heart, I am that kind of ruthless man.”
Shen Yujiao’s lashes trembled violently. “No, that’s not what I meant… I just…”
Pei Xia looked at her. “Just what?”
Under his keen, piercing gaze, Shen Yujiao faltered again.
Perhaps not “ruthless,” but… yes, she did think Pei Xia would kill Xie Wuling.
When had it begun that the upright, gentle man she once knew, pure as moonlight, had become this?
Confused and ashamed, Shen Yujiao turned her face away, unable to meet his eyes.
Pei Xia knew the distance between them still remained and was deeper than he’d thought.
After a long silence, he took her hand and guided her to sit beside him.
Watching her lashes quiver like butterfly wings, his voice softened. “I can promise you.”
Shen Yujiao’s eyes brightened instantly; she lifted her gaze to him.
“But he cannot remain in Chang’an.”
Pei Xia lowered his dark eyes, then reached out a long finger and tapped lightly against her chest. “Nor can he remain here.”
Seeing her eyes go momentarily blank, he lowered his head, pressing his forehead to hers. His voice, husky and low, carried a quiet, compelling power: “Yuniang, forget him.”
“From this day forth, you and I, husband and wife, shall be of one heart and one mind, together for all our lives, never to part again.”
The rich scent of sandalwood that clung to him brushed across Shen Yujiao’s brow and eyes with the heat of his breath.
It was damp, warm, and ticklish—like a heady, overwhelming tide, one that lured her in and swept her away.
Her eyelids slowly lowered; when they finally closed completely, a faint, soft sound slipped from her throat. “Alright.”
The next moment, Pei Xia’s lips descended upon hers.
Guided by the strength of his body, she fell back onto the bed.
Her hand was held in his, her fingers clutching at his shoulder.
