Bai Ping turned and scolded Lu Tan: “So noisy, what sort of behavior is that?”
Shen Yujiao cast a faint glance at the two maids.
When sons of great families reached maturity, maidservants would be assigned to serve in their chambers. Bai Ping and Lu Tan were such attendants, both born of the Pei household. Upon reaching age, they were sent by Madam Pei to Pei Xia’s quarters.
But Pei Xia was unlike the typical scions of noble houses. Having lost his father young, the burden of the clan’s prosperity had fallen on his shoulders. He could not bear to waste even a breath on wine or women; every day he was either studying and writing or discoursing on philosophy. He would rather seek out monks in the mountains for a game of chess than linger in worldly pleasures.
In the past, Madam Pei had even worried her son suffered from some hidden ailment. Only after seeing him bring Shen Yujiao back, and, though she disliked this daughter-in-law, finding the bridal handkerchief that night, did she finally set her mind at ease.
“It is only the hour of Shen now, and he has returned already?”
Shen Yujiao slowly drew back her gaze. Looking again into the bronze mirror at the beautiful young woman with a matron’s coiffure, she thought, less than a year, and how worn she seemed. She was only seventeen.
Her slender fingers brushed her cheek as Lu Tan’s crisp voice rang at her ear: “It seems someone came from Chang’an, in a great hurry. Judging by their attire, they look to be from the forbidden court?”
The forbidden court?
Shen Yujiao’s eyelids flickered. Thoughtfully, she lowered her hand: “Where are they now?”
“They were in the study before. When this maid came to report to you, the young master had already gone to the Madam’s courtyard,” Lu Tan said, stealing a glance at her mistress’s profile. “After visiting Madam, he should be coming here.”
Shen Yujiao arched a brow at the lively maid: “And why are you so certain he will come?”
Pei Xia had never been fond of women. Before marriage, he never allowed them near.
After marrying Yujiao, he came to her Tingyun Pavilion only on the first and fifteenth of each month.
But today was neither the first nor the fifteenth, it was merely an ordinary third day.
Faced with her mistress’s question, Lu Tan replied sheepishly: “This maid went to the kitchen to bring something to godmother, and met the young master on the way. He asked if you were in the courtyard. This maid said you were napping. He looked at the sky and said he would come later for the evening meal.”
Lu Tan recounted honestly, while Shen Yujiao could picture even his tone and bearing.
It must have been faint, like mountain wind through green bamboo, or the reflection of a pool stirring the heart.
“Since the young master said so, go to the kitchen and have them prepare two extra dishes he likes for tonight.”
Shen Yujiao gave her instructions softly. Looking once more at her own plain attire in the mirror, she thought for a moment, then took out from the dressing case a pomegranate hairpin of red-gold inlaid with kingfisher feathers and strung pearls, and handed it to Bai Ping behind her.
Bai Ping fixed it into her hair, then cautiously asked, “Madam, would you like to change into a brighter gown?”
“No.”
Seeing the confusion in Bai Ping’s eyes, Shen Yujiao could not be bothered to explain.
She wore this hairpin purely to seek an auspicious meaning for herself, not to show it to Pei Xia.
Besides, that man would not look anyway.
Toward women, he was cold and wooden as a block of wood. Even at night, when sharing the bed, he always extinguished the lamps and candles.
In pitch darkness, what difference did jewelry or dresses make? Why go to such trouble.
…
Idly turning a few pages of a book, she saw the sky grow dim early with the summer rain.
Just as Shen Yujiao sat leaning by the window, staring blankly at the banana leaves outside, a lantern was lit at the front gate of the courtyard.
Amid the gloomy wind and rain, the flame swayed.
Like the tall figure under a bamboo umbrella, striding through the rain, clear, aloof, and cold.
“Greetings to the young master.”
The maids’ voices echoed faintly from the covered walk. The bamboo curtain was lifted, followed by the steady tread of boots, drawing closer and closer.
Hearing the sound of his steps, Shen Yujiao raised a hand to smooth her hair and stood to greet him: “Greetings to Langjun.”
“No need for ceremony.”
A man’s deep voice rang out in the room. Coming up before her, he lifted his hand in a light gesture of support.
Shen Yujiao straightened, withdrawing unobtrusively to the side. Her every motion measured, proper: “Langjun returns very early today.”
That cool gaze seemed to pause upon her forehead for two breaths before shifting away. He went of his own accord to the yellow pearwood stand, bent to wash his hands: “Guests came to the household this afternoon.”
“For Langjun to return from the thatched retreat to receive them, they must be unusual guests indeed.” Shen Yujiao, watching his profile, made conversation.
The man before her possessed the nobility of a great house’s son, yet none of their indulgence. He cared nothing for women, fine clothes, or rich food. His usual garments were black, white, or blue; in winter he wore a crane-fur cloak, in summer wooden-soled shoes. Feather fan and gauze kerchief in hand, he wrote essays, sipped tea, more like a reclusive scholar devoted to the Way than a worldly heir.
In the first three months of marriage, Shen Yujiao often suspected that if not for his duty as clan heir, he would have long since cast off the dust of the mortal world, withdrawn to the mountains, and sought the Way of immortality.
Until that snowy day in early spring, when she went to his retreat by the river to deliver a cloak, and happened upon him playing chess against himself.
The black and white stones crisscrossed in battle, carrying a momentum to swallow mountains and rivers.
Only then did she glimpse the ambition within Pei Xia’s chest. Likely, only because he had not yet found a worthy sovereign did he content himself in Hedong, entrusting his spirit to rivers and hills.
“He does deserve to be called an honored guest.”
Pei Xia finished washing his hands, turned his body, and caught sight of his wife’s thoughtful expression. His thin lips parted slightly: “Why do you look at me so?”
Shen Yujiao returned to herself and handed him a clean handkerchief: “Only wondering, from which house this guest comes.”
Pei Xia took it, gave his habitual thanks, and dried his hands: “A member of the imperial family.”
Shen Yujiao started, not expecting him to speak so plainly.
Since he did not intend to hide it, she did not feign ignorance, but softly asked: “From which branch?”
As the words fell, she saw his assessing gaze land upon her cheek.
Her heart tightened, had she overstepped? Did he not wish her to ask?
Glancing past his shoulder at the patch dampened by rain, she turned toward the wardrobe: “The weather has been fickle lately. Langjun must not catch cold.”
When she brought clean robes and stepped forward to help him change, Pei Xia did not refuse.
Matters like loosening his robes and belt he had always done himself, never letting others serve him.
On the second day after their wedding, when Yujiao tried to help him undress, he instinctively stepped aside, saying it was unnecessary.
The new bride’s face had turned pale. Timidly she asked, “Is it that I serve poorly?”
She had married into the Pei household as the daughter of a disgraced minister, already treading as if on thin ice. Not wishing her to think too much, afterward he no longer refused her personal attendance.
After all, she was his wife, different from other women.
“It is the Second Prince.”
Pei Xia extended his arms to make it easier for his small-framed wife to unfasten his robe. “You must have heard that Huainan has shown signs of unrest?”
“I once heard my elder brother mention it. Zhang Ying, governor of Huainan, has long harbored the ambition of a wolf. This envoy from Chang’an comes for that matter?”
“Zhang Ying has rebelled. The Second Prince volunteered to lead the suppression, and His Majesty granted him twenty thousand troops. He sent men with a letter of invitation, asking me to serve as military advisor and march south with the army.”
Before the words were finished, her fingers untying his sash stilled.
Pei Xia lowered his gaze and saw Shen Yujiao lifting her delicate face, brows lightly furrowed: “Langjun has agreed?”
In the warm candlelight, her eyes and brows were tender and stirring. Pei Xia pondered a moment before saying: “The Second Prince’s invitation is difficult to decline.”
The current emperor had five sons. The Crown Prince was mediocre, no better than his father.
Among the princes, the most outstanding were the second and third. The Second Prince was upright and virtuous, with a reputation for worthiness, but his nature was too soft, his benevolence excessive. The Third Prince was bold and martial, born a general, but squandered money recklessly and loved indulgence.
Neither was the true sovereign Pei Xia sought. But he had not expected that the Second Prince himself would come to Wenxi, inviting him out of seclusion, saying: “If sir is willing to aid me, I will treat you with the honor due a national sage.”
Shen Yujiao did not know that at this very moment the Second Prince was lodging in the guest quarters of the estate. Though a woman, born in a Chang’an official’s household, she knew a little of court affairs.
If one had to choose a worthy lord, the Second Prince was without doubt the best choice. Moreover, this time he had personally delivered the letter of invitation,
“Langjun harbors the ambition of the great roc; as your wife, I ought to give my full support.” Shen Yujiao laid aside the discarded robe and draped a clean crow-blue robe upon him. “Only… I do not know when Langjun will return from this journey?”
“The army sets out in five days. At the soonest, three months. At the latest…”
Pei Xia paused slightly, lowered his eyes toward his wife. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
Shen Yujiao caught the meaning between his words, her heart sinking, but she forced a light smile. “I believe with Langjun’s wisdom, you’ll surely end things swiftly and return victorious early.”
The sash at his waist was tied. After exchanging a few more words, a maid reported from outside the curtain: “Langjun, Mistress, the meal has been delivered. Shall we set it out now?”
Shen Yujiao glanced at Pei Xia, saw him sitting composedly on the couch, and answered out, “Set it out.”
—
After dinner, night had fallen completely, though the rain had yet to stop.
Having bathed, Shen Yujiao draped a light apricot robe over her shoulders, sitting sideways on the long couch, a copy of The Concise Models for Women open in her hands.
Though her eyes rested on the black characters on the page, her thoughts had long drifted far away.
In five days, Pei Xia would leave the residence. This time, three months at the shortest, at the longest… there was no telling when he would return.
To say she felt no reluctance would be a lie. After all, ever since he brought her back to Hedong, he had been her only support.
She knew her present station. To marry Pei Xia was already marrying far above her; no wonder her mother-in-law Madam Wang, and the other elders of the clan, held her in disdain.
Though she bore the title of clan wife, she held none of the clan wife’s authority. Clearly the proper principal wife, yet she was more like a concubine serving through her looks, confined daily within Tingyun Pavilion, seldom showing herself in public,
And if she did, what for? To let people sneer again at the shame of being a traitor’s daughter?
When Pei Xia was home, on his account, the household would at least maintain a veneer of respect toward her as “clan wife.”
But once Pei Xia left…
Shen Yujiao’s long lashes drooped, and the pale fingers resting on the page unconsciously tightened.
Suddenly, a faintly rich fragrance of sandalwood drifted over.
Before she could lift her eyes, the book beneath her hand was flipped upside down.
“Your mind is elsewhere, you’re even holding the book upside down.” A man’s cool voice sounded above her head.
Shen Yujiao raised her gaze. The man, freshly bathed, wore a long robe, his slightly damp black hair loosely pinned with a white jade hairpin. This relaxed appearance added a touch of languid allure to his clear brows.
The world called him, ‘Hedong’s Pei Xia, a gentleman like jade’, no empty praise.
This man truly seemed carved of cold white jade: outwardly cool, inwardly cool. Only when the bed curtains fell at night, the body that pressed against hers… was not cold at all.
It wasn’t until Pei Xia called her again that Shen Yujiao returned to herself. Against the lamplight, his black eyes gleamed faintly, like rippling water. “Why are you dazed again?”
Realizing the improper thoughts she had been entertaining, Shen Yujiao’s cheeks flushed hot. She quickly lowered her gaze. “I was just thinking, in five days Langjun will leave home. These days we should pack the trunks well, bring along whatever can be brought, so it won’t be inconvenient outside.”
“The maids will take care of all that, you needn’t worry.”
“Even so… this is Langjun’s first journey far away, and it is to suppress a rebellion…”
Shen Yujiao pressed her lips together, lifting her face to look at the man before her, her voice soft. “You must take great care outside.”
In her eyes was worry, genuine and tender, like fine threads quietly winding around him.
Pei Xia’s gaze shifted faintly. He inclined his head. “I will.”
Having said that, his glance fell on the book on the table. “Will you keep reading?”
His tone was flat, unreadable. But meeting his steady gaze, Yuqiao understood his intent.
He had come to her quarters tonight, taken supper, bathed, naturally, it was for that.
Her pale face tinged pink. She slowly rose, lowering her head beneath the red-gold pomegranate hairpin. “It’s late… I won’t read anymore tonight.”
Pei Xia’s eyes swept casually over the white skin of her neck peeking from her apricot robe. His long fingers tightened slightly before he turned. “Then let’s retire to bed.”
