When Shen Yujiao woke again, it was already the next evening.
“My child, you’re finally awake!” The first thing she saw was her mother, Madam Li, eyes red from crying.
Shen Yujiao stared blankly at her.
Her head felt clouded after sleeping an entire day; her chest was heavy as if pressed by a thousand catties of stone, and her throat burned with pain.
Her lips moved, she wanted to ask what had happened but before the words came out, memories of the moment before she fainted surged back like a tide.
She remembered now.
Xie Wuling had returned to Chang’an bringing news that Pei Xia had died for the nation.
Pei Xia.
Pei Shouzhen.
Her husband, her “Brother Shouzhen,” the father of her child, that bright, gentle gentleman from Hedong, now lay buried beneath the icy winds and snow of Yanbei.
His soul lost in a foreign land, his bones never to be found.
He was gone. He would never come back.
He would never return to Chang’an, to her and their child, never fulfill the promise they made to fly kites together when spring came.
“Yuniang, Yuniang, don’t scare me like this…”
Madam Li panicked when she saw her daughter staring blankly without speaking. “Doctor! Bai Ping! Qiulu! Quickly, call for the doctor—!”
The maids hurried out in alarm.
Madam Li gripped her daughter’s hand tightly. “My child, say something, don’t frighten your mother.”
With great effort, Shen Yujiao turned her head toward her mother’s tearful eyes. Her lips trembled; her voice came out hoarse and broken. “Mother…”
“I’m here, I’m here,” Madam Li choked out.
“Mother… it hurts so much…”
“Where does it hurt? Your head? Your body? My poor child, bear with it, the doctor will be here soon.”
Shen Yujiao lifted a trembling hand to press against her chest. “Here. It hurts here.”
Why did it hurt so much?
It was as if a dull knife were slowly cutting her open, as if something were being torn apart inside her by force, even breathing became difficult.
“It hurts, Mother,” Shen Yujiao said, pressing harder against her chest, her dark eyes glazed with mist, looking at Madam Li like a lost, helpless child. “Mother… why does it hurt like this…?”
Help me, Mother.
Teach me, Mother—what should I do?
How do I make it stop? How do I stop hurting so much?
But what could Madam Li do? She could only hold her daughter tightly in her arms, tears falling like rain. “My poor child… my poor, suffering child… Heaven is so cruel…”
Even though Shen Yujiao was now a mother herself, in her own mother’s embrace she became a child again, clinging to that fragile, fleeting warmth.
She clutched at Madam Li’s sleeve as if it were her last lifeline.
But the pain inside her chest surged endlessly, with nowhere to go, no way to release it.
Madam Li wept until her face was soaked but Shen Yujiao never shed a single tear.
Her tear ducts felt as if they were blocked.
All that pain was trapped in her chest, churning and torturing her over and over, unable to find release.
It wasn’t until the next day that Xie Wuling came to visit again, handing her a letter.
“When I returned to Yanzhou to sort through his belongings, I found this letter in one of the trunks.”
He still remembered the last thing Pei Xia had said to him that the embroidered pouch was in the inn’s chest.
So when he returned victorious to Yanzhou, the first thing he did was open that chest.
The letter was there, beside the pouch.
Xie Wuling held the dark silk qilin pouch in one hand, and the letter—addressed “To my Yuniang” in the other.
His heart itched with temptation. He wanted to open it, to see what words Pei Xia had left for her.
Had it been the Xie Wuling of years ago, the ruffian from Jinling, he would have opened it without hesitation. After all, he was never a gentleman.
But now, after thinking it over again and again, he restrained himself and didn’t open it.
He kept the letter with him until now, and delivered it intact into Shen Yujiao’s hands.
“Madam, please… open it.”
Xie Wuling sat upright in the armchair of the flower hall, feeling Madam Li’s complicated gaze from the upper right side while trying his best to control his own, careful not to look too intently at Shen Yujiao.
Even after taking three prescriptions, her face was still deathly pale.
She accepted the letter. Seeing the familiar handwriting sent a chill of pain stabbing through her chest again.
Watching her expression, Xie Wuling felt a pang of regret.
Had he known, he would have waited a few more days to give it to her. She still didn’t seem well, what if she grew distraught again and vomited blood like before?
The thought of that day still haunted him.
He had never imagined she could grieve to such a degree.
When he saw that bloodstained handkerchief, his heart ached and yet, mixed within was jealousy.
Pei Shouzhen… that man was truly cunning.
Perhaps the day he told him to retreat from the Snow Valley, he had already resolved to die, had already foreseen all that would follow.
But how could he bear to?
If it had been him, knowing he had a wife and child waiting at home, he would have crawled back to Chang’an if he had to, never willing to die.
A swirl of emotions churned in Xie Wuling’s heart.
At times he thought Pei Shouzhen deceitful and despicable; at others, that he truly deserved to be called a man of honor.
Ah, but what good is it to be an honorable man—such a stubborn fool.
As Xie Wuling wrestled with his thoughts, Shen Yujiao unfolded the letter.
A whole page of neat, strong characters, carrying the faint scent of ink.
To my wife, Yuniang — if you are reading this letter, take it as though we were meeting once more. With this letter, I bid you farewell forever.
The barbarians have invaded our borders; war blazes without end. In times of national peril, every man bears his duty.
I now take up my spear and march to war. At the moment of departure, my heart is full of words I cannot speak. I know full well that once I go, life and death are uncertain, and my return unforeseeable. I fear to burden you, my beloved wife, and thus write this letter of release.
I know your conduct is virtuous—refined as the orchid, steadfast as pine and cypress. When we wed, I believed we could live as one, side by side till our hair turned white. But clouds shift, and people change. Seeing us now, though feelings run deep, fate is shallow; our bond cannot continue.
Should I fall in battle, I beg you not to dwell on me. Forget the past, seek another worthy match, and live to grow old together in harmony.
All household property is yours to handle as you wish. As for our young child, born of your flesh, his future shall follow your will, whether you choose to raise him yourself or otherwise.
I too will reflect upon my failings and strive for better, in hopes that in another life, I may be fortunate enough to meet you again.
This paper is short, but the feelings within are long.
May the mountains and rivers endure, and the nation know peace.
May you, my wife, live in health and joy for all your years.
Take care. Take care.
— Written at the Hour of the Rat, the twenty-eighth day of the twelfth month, third year of Chunqing, in the guest house of Yanzhou.
Respectfully, Pei Xia
The two characters Take care were written so forcefully that the strokes seemed to pierce the page.
Holding the thin paper, Shen Yujiao’s slender fingers trembled uncontrollably.
Plip—
A single tear fell, soaking into the words “worthy man.”
“Yuniang.” Madam Li, seeing her daughter’s tears fall like beads, quickly passed her a handkerchief, face filled with concern. “What did Shouzhen write?”
Xie Wuling, too, was curious.
What had Pei Shouzhen written that could make her cry like this?
He couldn’t recall ever seeing her weep so much before.
Madam Li craned her neck to read, but Shen Yujiao quickly wiped her tears and folded the letter. “It’s nothing, just some household matters.”
Then she raised her head, forcing a small smile toward Xie Wuling. “Thank you for bringing this back.”
Meeting her tear-bright eyes, Xie Wuling pressed his lips together. “Madam, there’s no need for such formality.”
Madam Li’s feelings toward Xie Wuling were also conflicted.
She was grateful that he had once saved her daughter and grandson, but his overly familiar demeanor displeased her. Yet fate had favored him, his life was tough, his luck strong. Now he had risen swiftly through the ranks, a leading general in Yanbei, and word had it that the emperor intended to grant him a marquisate for his recent victory over the Rong Di.
Such a young marquis, still unmarried, even with humble origins, many families in Chang’an would gladly wed their daughters to him.
But Madam Li could see the look in Xie Wuling’s eyes when he gazed at her daughter.
It was far from pure.
A widow’s doorstep invites gossip.
Now that her son-in-law’s body was scarcely cold and her daughter was still reeling from tragedy, Madam Li swore she would not allow any new trouble to arise.
“General Xie has returned all of my son-in-law’s belongings intact, we are deeply grateful. However, there has just been a bereavement in the household, and there are many matters to attend to. I fear we won’t have the time to properly receive you, General Xie.”
Madam Li smiled politely as she issued what was, unmistakably, a dismissal.
Xie Wuling, who could quarrel with heaven, earth, and even the emperor, became surprisingly restrained and courteous before Shen Yujiao’s mother. “What Madam says is true. However, there is one more matter I wish to discuss privately with Madam Shen.”
Madam Li’s smile froze.
Privately? He wanted to “talk privately”?
“General Xie, that would hardly be proper.”
Xie Wuling raised a hand to his lips and coughed lightly. “I understand but this matter is important.”
Madam Li’s expression darkened further. Inwardly, she thought grimly: Could this man be trying to take advantage of my daughter’s grief and persuade her to be with him?
Though widows remarrying was not uncommon in this dynasty, those were mostly commoner women. Among noble households, very few remarried and if any did, they were usually concubines or women without children.
But her daughter Yuniang was the legitimate wife of the Pei clan, mother to a son, and her husband had died a national hero.
To remarry under such circumstances would bring only ruin to her reputation and standing—no benefit whatsoever.
It would be far better to raise the child in peace, perhaps even earning a posthumous title of virtuous widow and be honored alongside Pei Shouzhen for generations, praised by later people as “a devoted couple,” “a union of immortals.”
In Madam Li’s heart, there was no better son-in-law than Pei Shouzhen.
Thinking of her son-in-law, taken in his prime, she lifted her sleeve to wipe away a trace of moisture at the corner of her eye. Then she looked up at the tall, severe general before her and said, “If it is an important matter, I will dismiss the servants. General Xie may speak freely before us.”
But Xie Wuling persisted. “I beg your pardon, Madam, but this concerns confidential matters, unsuitable for outsiders to hear.”
Madam Li frowned. Outsiders? she thought. He’s the biggest outsider here.
“Mother,” Shen Yujiao said softly, “please take the servants and step outside.”
Madam Li bent close to whisper in her ear: “Do you care nothing for your reputation? Don’t be foolish.”
Shen Yujiao glanced once at Xie Wuling, then lowered her voice. “Mother, no longer than one incense stick’s time. Please, wait outside for a bit.”
Since her daughter had spoken so, Madam Li had no choice.
Suppressing her unease, she led the maids out but not before pausing at the door to give several loud, deliberate knocks, a pointed reminder.
Inside the room—
Shen Yujiao remained seated where she was, her tear-reddened eyes fixed on Xie Wuling. Her voice was low and hoarse, but calm. “What is it you have to say? You may speak now.”
With no others present, Xie Wuling seemed to loosen a long-held restraint. He looked at her and asked, “Is your health any better?”
“It’s nothing serious,” Shen Yujiao replied. “A couple more doses of medicine and I’ll be fine.”
“That’s good,” Xie said. “You nearly scared my soul out of me that day.”
Shen Yujiao lowered her long, dark lashes.
After she had woken, Bai Ping told her that had it not been for Xie Wuling catching her in time, she would have collapsed hard onto the floor.
Xie Wuling had even tried to carry her back to her quarters, but Bai Ping stopped him and had her temporarily settled on the beauty couch in the side hall until the physician arrived. Only afterward did the maids carry her back to her chamber.
“Then… thank you for that day,” Shen Yujiao said quietly.
“I’ve already told you there’s no need to be so formal with me.”
Looking at her, so young yet so wan, her face pale and thin, like a flower drained of its life’s essence, he felt a knot of distress twist in his chest.
He longed to take her into his arms, to soothe her, to tell her not to cry.
It’s just a man who’s died, he thought. The sky hasn’t fallen.
And even if it did, I’d be the one to hold it up for you.
“If I had known you would grieve like this,” he murmured, eyes darkening, “I never should have listened to Pei Shouzhen that day. I should’ve led the troops into the Snow Valley myself.”
His gaze flickered, voice dropping lower. “If the one buried in that valley had been me, would you—”
“Xie Wuling.”
She cut him off sharply, her pale face taut with sorrow. “Don’t say such things.”
He froze for a moment, swallowing down the rest of his words—would you have shed a tear for me too?
“…All right. I won’t.”
“What was it you wanted to tell me?” Shen Yujiao asked.
He paused a moment, then said solemnly, “You should take Young Master Di and return to Wenxi, sooner rather than later.”
He added, “You’ll need to go back there anyway to oversee the funeral rites.”
Because Pei Xia’s body had never been recovered, there was no urgency for burial. After she had awakened the day before, she and her mother had discussed it and decided to hold a simple ceremony in Chang’an first, then bring Pei Xia’s belongings and burial garments back to Wenxi for the formal rites.
After all, Pei Xia’s elders and clan were all in Wenxi, he should return to his roots, to rest in the family tomb and be entered into the ancestral shrine.
Thinking of this, a dull ache pricked at Shen Yujiao’s heart again.
She took two deep breaths to steady herself, holding back her tears. “We will, of course, return to Wenxi,” she said softly. “But…”
Her brows knit slightly. “Why do you say, ‘the sooner, the better’? For what reason?”
Xie Wuling did not conceal it. “Chang’an is about to fall into chaos.”
Shen Yujiao froze.
She opened her mouth to ask but stopped midway, realization dawning in her wide eyes as she stared at him.
Meeting her gaze, Xie Wuling nodded gravely. “Just as you’re thinking.”
For a moment she could not speak. Then, gripping the armrest tightly, she hissed, “You’re mad. Have you forgotten the outcome of the palace coup four years ago?”
Xie Wuling said, “I haven’t forgotten.”
“You haven’t forgotten, yet you’re making the same mistake again.”
Shen Yujiao grew anxious. Back then, she hadn’t managed to stop Xie Wuling in time, and she’d regretted it ever since. Now she was even more nervous. “You’re now the adopted son of Yan Wang, a general of the court. Your great victory against the Rong Di this time is enough to earn you promotion and titles, so why… why must you still—”
The word rebel reached her lips but turned into, “—act foolishly.”
Seeing the vivid worry between her brows, Xie Wuling suddenly smiled. “You’re still just as beautiful.”
She was talking about serious matters.
Shen Yujiao frowned. “Xie Wuling!”
Only then did Xie Wuling put away his smile. He looked at her deeply. “Don’t you hate them?”
Shen Yujiao was stunned.
“In the past, Shouan harmed you and Di Ge’er like that. But because she was a princess, we couldn’t touch her, and she’s lived freely all these years. Pei Shouzhen schemed step by step to help Sima Jin ascend the throne, devoting everything to the empire, only so that Sima Jin would keep his promise and have Shouan repay her debt with her life.”
“And what did Sima Jin do? Broke his word, turned on Pei Shouzhen, made things hard for him at every step, and even gave you that despicable drug.”
“As for this invasion by the Rong Di, at the root of it all, it was his own stupidity. He withheld military supplies for his private gain, letting the enemy seize the chance to invade.”
“For one fool’s blunder at the top, countless soldiers and civilians had to die to make up for it.”
“Yes, we won the battle but in the process, the people of Yanbei were displaced, their homes destroyed, their families wiped out beyond number. Pei Shouzhen is dead. My brothers and elders on the frontier have died. You, so young, became a widow. Di Ge’er lost his father before he was even grown.”
“And yet, the one who caused it all sits high in the Golden Hall, feasting and thriving, unscathed.”
“Tell me, why should that be?”
Xie Wuling’s long fingers clenched into a fist on his knee. He fixed his gaze on her. “Jiaojiao, do you really feel no hatred in your heart?”
Shen Yujiao met his eyes and clearly saw the surging fury and burning light within them.
That heat was like the fiercest sunlight—radiant, inexhaustible, brimming with life. Through his gaze it reached her, as though tangible, seeping into her skin, into her blood, shining into the deepest part of her heart—
—illuminating all the darkness she’d buried there: the silent grievances, anger, and resentment she had never dared voice.
How could she not resent, not hate?
She was human—capable of joy and sorrow, anger and pain.
From the moment she learned, years ago, that the Shen family had been framed for Duke Ying’s crimes and thrown into prison, hatred had already taken root.
She hated this unjust world.
She hated the supreme imperial power.
She hated the despicable, dim-witted ruler who sat upon the throne.
But what use was hatred?
How could ordinary people fight imperial power?
And she was just a woman confined to the inner chambers.
Whether thunder or rain, it was all said to be the emperor’s grace. She could only bury all her bitterness and resentment deep within her heart.
Yet now—
Now Xie Wuling asked her, Do you hate them?
Her lowered fingers trembled, then clenched tightly. She looked at him. “I do.”
Her family’s lives, her own life, Di Ge’er’s life had all nearly perished at the hands of the royal clan. Not to mention Pei Xia’s life, which was already lost.
If she could have vengeance, she would gladly offer her own life.
But—
“Do you have a plan?”
“Before the breakout at Baicheng, I asked Pei Shouzhen something similar. He told me—”
Xie Wuling cleared his throat and mimicked Pei Xia’s tone and manner: “‘I am human, not a god.’”
“‘The battlefield changes in an instant. Until the outcome is decided, no one can say they’ll surely win. You just follow the momentum and choose the best strategy you can.’”
The way he mimicked him made Shen Yujiao laugh despite herself though the laughter stung faintly in her chest.
It really did sound like something Pei Xia would have said.
It seemed that back in Yanbei, the two had gotten along quite well.
Her thoughts drifted briefly before Xie Wuling coughed lightly, pulling her back. “Jiaojiao, it’s the same now. All I can do is my best.”
At his words, Shen Yujiao bit her lip, unable to hide her worry.
Xie Wuling, however, smiled lazily at her. “But I can promise you this time, I won’t act rashly like before.”
Because Yan Wang was no reckless fool like the Third Prince Sima Ze, and the Yanbei army was no hastily assembled troupe from Longxi.
“Even Pei Shouzhen once said my foster father is a man among men, the finest in the world.”
Xie Wuling winked at her. “If you don’t trust my judgment in choosing a master, at least trust Pei Shouzhen’s, hmm?”
Shen Yujiao couldn’t help but laugh softly.
After a long moment, she exhaled deeply and looked at him again. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Xie Wuling lifted an eyebrow, knowing she had accepted it.
“As long as you keep yourself and the child safe, that will be the greatest help to me.”
It was the truth.
But when he spoke such truth, it always sounded like a love confession—earnest and direct.
Shen Yujiao’s heart tightened. She avoided his gaze and said quietly, “Xie Wuling, I—”
“Jiaojiao.”
Xie Wuling knew what she was going to say and interrupted her. “You don’t have to say it yet, and I won’t rush you for an answer.
For now, what matters most is that you take the child, your parents, your brothers and their families and go to Wenxi for a while.”
He stepped forward two paces, lowering his voice: “The major matter is set for the end of the month, you must act quickly, not delay.”
Shen Yujiao lifted her face, looking at the tall man before her.
The reckless, roguish airs of the past had vanished from his features. His deep brow now held the steady composure of a seasoned commander. The eyes that had once always smiled at her now carried a sharpness and resolve that inspired both reassurance and trust.
“All right, I will act as quickly as possible.”
Shen Yujiao nodded, clutching her sleeve tightly, and looked at him. “You must also take care of yourself.”
Her heart could not bear any more blows.
Xie Wuling met the concern rippling in her glossy dark eyes and tugged the corner of his lips faintly. “I will.”
After all, he was not like Pei Shouzhen, so ready to sacrifice everything.
