Shen Yujiao herself didn’t know how she had ended up sleeping in Pei Xia’s arms, when before she had been leaning against the window.
Meeting his gaze, she felt somewhat uneasy, her lips moved softly: “N-no… not a nightmare.”
She sat up from his embrace, noticing his robe front was creased by her leaning. Embarrassment showed on her face: “Did I sleep for long?”
Pei Xia smoothed his clothes unhurriedly. “Not too long.”
Shen Yujiao was about to say more when faint voices brushed her ears again.
Jiaojiao, Jiaojiao—
Not a dream. There really was a voice.
Pei Xia lifted his eyes toward her. “Why do you wake and seem so absent?”
Shen Yujiao frowned. “Did… did you hear something?”
“A sound?”
Pei Xia glanced at the tightly shut window. “Do you mean the sound of rain?”
That repeated call of Jiaojiao just now—was that rain?
Shen Yujiao felt muddled. After a moment, she said: “Perhaps I slept too long, my head’s a bit foggy. Let me open the window for some air.”
Pei Xia didn’t stop her, only reminded her: “Don’t open it too wide, lest the rain blow in and dampen your clothes.”
“Alright.” Shen Yujiao agreed, lifted the embroidered grape-pattern curtain, and pushed open the tightly closed tungwood window.
The chill, damp autumn air rushed in at once. The sky was already dim, the rain not heavy but falling endlessly, as if Heaven itself spun out an unbroken sorrow.
Wind, rain, the clatter of hooves, the rumble of wheels, and within the wind that elusive voice—“Jiaojiao—”
Shen Yujiao’s brows jumped, and for a moment she forgot Pei Xia’s warning, pushing the window wider and leaning her face out.
Behind their carriage followed two more, carrying maidservants, attendants, and daily goods, with over ten mounted guards armed with blades, divided front and rear to escort them.
Looking out, Shen Yujiao saw only the rear guards in straw capes and raincoats, figures upright, like brushstrokes of ink against the misty gray desolation.
She did not see the person she imagined. And yet that call—she had clearly heard it…
A slender, jade-like hand pressed to the window frame. Shen Yujiao turned back and found Pei Xia leaning in close. “The rain is coming in.”
Shen Yujiao lowered her gaze, just about to shut the window with him—when another “Jiaojiao” rang out.
This time, clear as day.
Shen Yujiao snapped her head up, looking at Pei Xia. “You heard it?”
Pei Xia was silent for a moment, then withdrew his hand from the window. “It seems someone is calling you.”
Seeing that he too had heard it, Shen Yujiao quickly leaned out—
Only to see the drizzling autumn rain blanketing the countryside, sky dim and withered. And then—
A streak of vivid crimson, a tall figure astride a horse, charging toward them.
Like a blazing flame, like a searing light, the one splash of dazzling brilliance in this bleak world.
Xie Wuling.
It really was him!
Shen Yujiao’s eyes widened, her heart pounding wildly.
How had he come? Outside it was still raining, and he wore no rain cloak, chasing like this without a care for catching cold.
“Yuniang.”
The sudden call from behind pulled Shen Yujiao back. Realizing her loss of composure, she secretly clenched her palm and turned to the man inside the carriage. “It’s Xie Wuling.”
Pei Xia sat upright, looking at her calmly. “And so?”
Shen Yujiao choked.
Yes—so what.
They should go their separate ways, each to their own path, with nothing more between them.
The window stood open, wind and rain chilling her face. Yet that voice—rising and falling, ceaseless—never stopped.
If he kept chasing like this, dusk would fall. How long could he keep it up? Did he mean to chase them all the way to Luoyang?
“Let the carriage stop for a while.”
Shen Yujiao looked toward Pei Xia, her dark, glistening eyes full of earnestness. “For him to keep chasing like this, it’s not a solution either.”
“That day you and he already spoke things clear. The generous gifts due, we have already presented. Now it is he who clings on, refusing to let go—what does that have to do with you or me?”
Pei Xia’s pale, cold face showed little emotion, his voice calm and level. “Must we, then, stop every time he gives chase? Yuniang, you ought to know—if one should cut and does not, one is the more harmed.”
Shen Yujiao was struck speechless.
After a pause, she lightly bit her lip, shifted closer to him, and tugged at his sleeve, her voice softened: “No matter what, he is still the savior of me and the child. Now it’s raining outside, and nearly dark. Let us stop a moment, hear why he has come chasing. Perhaps… perhaps it is for something important?”
Pei Xia glanced at the sleeve she held, his eyes darkening slightly.
The second time.
Since their reunion, the two times she had taken the initiative to draw close, both had been for another man.
Her heart leaned too far, and she herself was wholly unaware.
Shen Yujiao, seeing Pei Xia remain silent while outside the hoofbeats kept following without pause, grew all the more anxious. She couldn’t help but call again: “Shouzhen… Langjun…”
Tilting her face up to him, her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Langjun, just this once. Afterward, no matter how he entangles, I will never respond again. I will obey only your arrangements.”
Pei Xia lowered his gaze, fixing on the porcelain-white, delicate face before him.
After a brief silence, he exhaled a long breath, turning his head aside. “The last time.”
“Yes, yes.” Shen Yujiao nodded repeatedly, releasing his sleeve. “Thank you, Langjun.”
Pei Xia lifted the curtain and ordered the convoy to pull aside and halt.
Though no one knew why their master had stopped in the middle of this desolate road, still they obeyed and lined the carriages to the side.
Not long after, that figure in scarlet caught up.
Shen Yujiao lifted the curtain to look out—Xie Wuling, having also noticed, rode his horse straight to the carriage’s side. “Jiaojiao!”
Now at closer distance, Shen Yujiao saw clearly how he looked.
He rode a skinny horse of unknown origin, still clad in the wedding robe from that day. But after rushing through the rain, the robe was already soaked through, clinging tightly to his broad frame, dripping water in streams.
His hair was drenched as well—but even that was nothing compared to his face, bruised and battered to a shocking degree.
His left eye socket was a mass of purple, the right side of his face was swollen high, puffed up like a steamed bun. At his mouth corner a gash had split open, likely torn again from his shouting along the way, bleeding afresh.
The word “wretched” was far too mild for such a state.
Shen Yujiao could hardly believe her eyes. It had only been two days—how had he become like this?
“Xie Wuling, your face—who beat you?”
She reflexively wanted to glance back, but in the next moment knew it could not be him.
Pei Xia was not one to strike from the shadows.
Hearing her question, Xie Wuling did not dare say he had been caught climbing walls like a thief, and only forced a crooked smile. “I… wasn’t careful, I fell.”
Shen Yujiao frowned. “Do you take me for a fool? How could you fall and end up like this?”
Xie Wuling grinned. “You’re no fool. Master Shen is the most learned of all.”
Shen Yujiao saw him still jesting even now, and furrowed her brows. “Xie Wuling!”
“Alright, alright, I’ll stop jesting. Jiaojiao, don’t be angry…”
“Xie Langjun.”
A clear, cold voice cut through like spring water, interrupting what almost seemed like a lovers’ banter. “You braved the rain to come—what matter do you wish to instruct us on?”
Shen Yujiao’s back stiffened. Thanks to Xie Wuling’s interruption, she nearly forgot Pei Xia was still inside the carriage.
Xie Wuling, too, seemed only just then to notice the other man within. His smile faded. “Jiaojiao left something behind. I came to deliver it.”
“May Xie Langjun mind his words. My wife’s given name—how could an outside man carelessly let it pass his lips?”
Pei Xia’s voice dropped slightly, his hand tightening to draw Shen Yujiao into his embrace, shielding her. His black eyes fixed steadily on the man outside, as he stretched out his other hand. “If there is something to be delivered, hand it to me.”
Seeing him hold Shen Yujiao like that, Xie Wuling felt both sour and furious, yet could not show it. He ground his teeth. “Names are given for people to call. I’ve always called her so, and Jiaojiao has never been displeased. Why meddle so tightly? As for what she left behind, of course I must give it into her own hands…”
At this, he turned to Shen Yujiao. “Jiaojiao, come down. I’ll give it to you alone.”
Shen Yujiao could clearly feel the hand on her shoulder tighten, and the faint fragrance of elegant sandalwood from Pei Xia’s robes filled her breath. Her heartbeat quickened.
This situation truly left her caught between retreat and advance.
But seeing Xie Wuling’s bruised, swollen face, still standing outside in the rain, having chased this far—iron body or not, how could he endure it?
“Langjun.”
Shen Yujiao turned her face slightly, her fine brows knit, her voice gentle as she spoke to Pei Xia. “Let’s resolve this quickly, so we can reach the post station sooner to rest.”
Pei Xia, hearing her call him “Langjun” and say “we,” his eyes softened slightly.
Looking again at that wretched figure outside the window, he felt it truly beneath him to quarrel with such a man—
Perhaps in the past two months, this Xie Wuling had indeed managed to stir some feelings in Yuniang’s heart. But an outside wildflower—something that feels novel for a while, that she pays a bit more attention to for a time—harms nothing.
In the end, he and Yuniang are the rightful, legitimate husband and wife. She only ever calls him langjun, and within her belly she still carries his flesh and blood…
A gentleman should have the capacity to tolerate, and ought not to fuss over such trifles.
“Forget it.”
Pei Xia lowered his eyes, then took up the veiled hat and personally placed it on her head. “It’s cold outside—go quickly and return quickly.”
His gentle attentiveness stirred some faint guilt in Shen Yujiao’s heart.
But once she stepped out of the carriage and saw Xie Wuling hobbling toward her, she was instantly left with nothing but shock and worry. “What happened to your leg?”
Xie Wuling said, “I fell. Really, it’s nothing!”
“Already like this, and you still call it nothing?”
“Ah, I’m young and sturdy. Just rest a couple days and I’ll be bouncing around again.”
Catching sight of the man seated in the carriage glancing their way, Xie Wuling sneered inwardly, feigning magnanimity. We’re all men—what thoughts one has, who doesn’t see through who?
“Jiaojiao, let’s walk ahead and talk.”
“Didn’t you say you had something to give me?” Shen Yujiao asked, puzzled.
“Yes, I’ll give it to you up ahead.” Xie Wuling said, “Can’t let that pale-faced scholar see.”
Shen Yujiao hesitated for a moment, then still took the umbrella from the maid’s hand and walked forward. “Slow down—come under the umbrella.”
Xie Wuling glanced at the small umbrella. “No need. I’m soaked through anyway.”
The two walked forward a bit, and only when sure Pei Xia in the carriage could no longer see them did they stop.
“What exactly is it, being so secretive?” Shen Yujiao asked, doubtful.
When she saw Xie Wuling pull out an oiled-paper bundle, and open it to reveal a piece of bright red silk, she jumped in fright, thinking this fellow had brought her undergarments.
But once she looked carefully and saw two dopey little ducks embroidered on the cloth, she came to a sudden realization. “A bridal veil?”
“Yes.” Xie Wuling stuffed the red veil, kept dry inside the oil paper, into her arms. “Here, you keep it.”
“You came all this way just to give me this?”
Shen Yujiao was bewildered. Looking again at that silly red veil, she couldn’t help herself. “Actually, on the wedding day I wanted to ask which shop you bought this veil from. The embroidery is really…”
She had wanted to say “too awful to look at,” but fearing Xie Wuling’s bad temper would cause him to trouble the embroideress, she changed it to: “in need of improvement.”
“Didn’t you ask me that night what I was fiddling with under the blankets?”
Xie Wuling’s face—already beaten into a multicolored steamed bun—flushed suspiciously red. He pressed a fist to his lips and coughed lightly. “Well, it was this thing I was embroidering.”
“You embroidered this?” Shen Yujiao was astonished.
“I know it’s not very good, but it was my first time.” Xie Wuling said awkwardly, “Once I practice more, I’ll embroider you a beautiful one, just like that embroidered pouch you gave me—just as beautiful!”
Shen Yujiao had been about to ask why he needed to embroider so many veils, but at his latter words, she froze a little. A flush rose on her face. “That pouch… you found it?”
“Found it. I was afraid it’d get wet, so I left it at home and didn’t bring it.”
Xie Wuling lowered his head, lifting the misty gauze of her veil up onto the brim of her hat. When he clearly saw her refined appearance—hair piled like clouds, light makeup, fine attire—his black eyes grew even brighter. “Dressed like this, you’re beautiful too, like a fairy from a painting.”
Shen Yujiao couldn’t help but laugh. “At a time like this, and you’re still saying such things…”
Xie Wuling suddenly took a step closer. Though his once-handsome face was swollen into a pig’s head, he still smiled at her. “Jiaojiao, don’t worry. Once I make something of myself, when I soar to the top, I’ll snatch you back from that pale-faced scholar!”
The sudden closeness made Shen Yujiao’s heart leap. Meeting the bright, fervent gaze in his eyes, her nose stung, and her voice choked a little. “Why say such things? That day I already made it clear with you—you and I… our fate is ended.”
“You’d best forget me soon. Pretend I never came to Jinling, and you never met me. From now on, you live your life—build a big house, marry a wife, have children, and spend your days steady and secure.”
“Marry what wife? Have what children?”
Xie Wuling’s brows twisted, his voice rising. “In this lifetime, I have only you as my wife! And only with you will I have children! Without you, how could I ever live steady, ever feel secure? You might as well strike me down with a blade right now, send me to the King of H*ll, let me reincarnate instead!”
Shen Yujiao was startled by his loud voice. Seeing blood trickling again from the wound at his lip, she couldn’t bear to scold his harshness anymore. She drew out a handkerchief from her sleeve. “What nonsense are you saying? To live well—why should you die?”
Xie Wuling didn’t take the handkerchief. Instead, stubbornness seized him as he fixed his eyes on her. “I know you’ve never believed me.”
Shen Yujiao faltered.
The light breeze lifted the gauze, and through the fine rain, those usually bright, fiery black eyes seemed to be veiled in shadow.
“Though I was born low, and never read many books, never learned much of propriety, every promise I ever made to you was from the heart—not to trick you, not to coax you, not to fob you off.”
His throat bobbed, many words wanting to spill out, yet at this moment he felt speaking them would be meaningless.
At last he opened his mouth, his voice hoarse: “Anyway, sooner or later, I’ll make you believe.”
Shen Yujiao only felt as though her heart was being gripped tightly by an invisible hand, pressed down heavy and suffocating.
Her vermilion lips moved twice, and after a long while, she lifted her eyes, gaze falling on the torn, bleeding corner of his mouth. “Does it hurt?”
Xie Wuling froze a moment, then said, “It doesn’t hurt, really doesn’t hurt.”
Shen Yujiao said, “Last time your injury was lighter than this, and you said it hurt.”
Xie Wuling looked awkward, dropping his gaze guiltily. “That… that wasn’t the same…”
The next instant, the umbrella tilted slightly, and along with a faint fragrance, Xie Wuling suddenly felt a soft warmth brush against the corner of his lips.
He went rigid, as though the blood in his whole body froze solid.
When the umbrella lifted again, a sigh as soft as a whisper sounded: “One kiss, and it won’t hurt anymore.”
“Jiaojiao…”
It was as though fireworks blazed in Xie Wuling’s eyes, dazzling bright. His bruised, swollen face flushed scarlet, and his blood surged, boiling, all rushing straight to his chest.
Jiaojiao had kissed him.
His heart—felt like it was about to melt.
Yet her expression grew distant, her steps retreating. “That’s all, Xie Wuling.”
“Forget me.”
“And don’t come chasing after me again. I won’t see you anymore.”
This was her last act of defiance.
From now on, she must return to her rightful life, walk her rightful path.
The sky grew darker still, the rain still falling in sheets.
Shen Yujiao held her umbrella and returned to the carriage. Her embroidered snow-blue shoes of silk were already thick with mud, the hem of her light-colored skirt soiled, splattered with spots.
She knew Pei Xia always loved cleanliness. The carriage floor was laid with soft rugs—if she went in like this, she would surely soil them.
So, with the maid’s help, she stood by the carriage side, using a handkerchief to wipe for quite a while. Only when most of the mud was cleaned did she slowly climb inside.
Yet Pei Xia’s gaze still fell upon her skirt hem and embroidered shoes.
Perhaps it was that defiant kiss just now, or perhaps the sight of her dirty skirts and shoes before him, but Shen Yujiao felt ill at ease, her long lashes lowering. “The road outside was a little hard to walk.”
“Mn. Then hereafter, don’t step down from the carriage on rainy days.”
“…”
Shen Yujiao’s lashes trembled. Before she could ponder whether there was deeper meaning in those words, the man extended his hand toward her. “Come here.”
Looking at that long, clean hand, Shen Yujiao pressed her lips together lightly and placed her hand in his.
In the next moment, warmth enveloped her.
Pei Xia said lightly, “Seems it’s cold outside, your hand is so chilled.”
Shen Yujiao answered, “It’s raining.”
He drew her to sit beside him, removed her veiled hat and set it aside. As though finding the carriage too dim, he lit the two wall lamps on either side.
The cabin instantly brightened. He sat again, his quiet gaze settling on Shen Yujiao.
Neither spoke, but in that stillness, the weight of his regard was tangible, pressing more and more.
Shen Yujiao could feel that gaze tracing her brows, sliding down the bridge of her nose, lingering on her lips…
Her breath hitched, afraid he might see through something.
Fortunately, he only let his eyes pass lightly, finally lowering them to her skirt hem and shoes.
Seeing his brows faintly crease, Shen Yujiao quickly said, “I already wiped them outside—they won’t soil the rugs.”
Pei Xia made a quiet sound of assent, but then bent down.
Seeing him reach out, Shen Yujiao instinctively drew her feet back, her voice taut. “Langjun?”
“These shoes are of snow satin, the embroidery stitched with gold and silver threads. Now that they’re stained with mud, even if washed clean, they won’t look good anymore.”
His long hand clasped her slender ankle. A woman’s feet were a hidden place, for her husband’s eyes and hands alone.
Pei Xia calmly slipped off both her shoes. “These can be discarded. Once back, I’ll have new clothes, shoes, and socks prepared for you.”
Shen Yujiao was slightly startled, feeling it wasteful. “They’ve only been worn two days.”
“Two days is enough. A pair of old shoes, dirtied with mud—nothing worth regretting.”
As he spoke gently, his gaze lingered briefly on her skirt hem. After a pause, he reached into the carriage’s compartment and took out a small fruit knife.
Under Shen Yujiao’s startled gaze, he cut away the soiled section of her skirt.
His movements were gentle, orderly, his refined features composed. He even soothed her in a soft voice: “Don’t be afraid, I won’t cut you.”
Shen Yujiao curled her feet onto the seat, watching his actions, her eyes flickering.
She knew he was fastidious, yet the party would soon arrive at the next post station, where she could bathe and change. She had not expected he could not tolerate even this short while.
Was it truly only that his eyes could brook no speck of filth, or was it that he had seen her step down with Xie Wuling, and his heart was displeased?
But just now, it had been he himself who agreed to let her step down. Something he promised with his own lips—would he still begrudge it?
Lowering her gaze, Shen Yujiao vaguely felt that Pei Xia’s attitude toward her had changed somewhat.
More considerate, more attentive, even beyond the measured bounds of their former courteous distance…
For instance, right now, he opened the carriage window and tossed out that pair of embroidered shoes, along with the strip of soiled skirt he had cut off.
In the past, he would never have done such an ill-mannered thing.
Even if he found them an eyesore, propriety would have made him endure in silence.
So—was he angry after all?
Turns out, even Pei Shouzhen could get angry over something like this.
That realization struck Shen Yujiao as novel. She couldn’t help but wonder—was it because of losing her and regaining her, that he now knew how to cherish? Or was it guilt in his heart, seeking to make amends?
“What are you staring at me for?” Pei Xia closed the window, then took out a clean handkerchief and slowly wiped his long, jointed fingers.
Shen Yujiao set her feet on the floor mat. “You threw the shoes away—when we reach the post station later, how am I to walk?”
Pei Xia gave her a glance, his tone calm: “I’ll carry you.”
Shen Yujiao: “…”
He truly was different now.
Not only did he hold her hand openly, now he could even carry her down from the carriage in public.
“Why so quiet?”
After wiping away nonexistent dirt from his fingers, Pei Xia set the handkerchief on the low table, the corner of his brow lifting slightly. “Afraid I’ll drop you?”
Seeing that he meant to tease, Shen Yujiao tugged at her lips: “Not afraid.”
Pei Xia said nothing, only looked at her deeply.
After a long moment, he sat down beside her and asked: “What did he give you?”
His tone was careless, yet it still made Shen Yujiao’s heart give a tremor.
Thinking of the red bridal veil hidden in her sleeve, guilt pricked her. Her lips murmured vaguely: “A gold bracelet. I refused it and told him to take it back.”
Fortunately, Pei Xia only glanced at her face and did not press further, merely saying: “So it’s ended this time?”
Shen Yujiao: “Mm.”
Pei Xia: “If he chases after you again…”
“I promised you. I won’t see him again.”
“Mm.”
Pei Xia’s clear brows relaxed as he looked at her. “When we return, set things at home in order. Then we’ll go to Chang’an. I remember you once said the snow at the Wild Goose Pagoda is the finest sight of Chang’an winters. If your body allows then, we’ll go to tread the snow and seek plum blossoms.”
Had she said that?
Shen Yujiao blinked in a daze, then recalled—yes, perhaps she had. At the start of the year, when snow had fallen in Wenxi. But it was sparse, nothing but cold, not beautiful at all.
She had been staring absentmindedly at the snow outside the window when he asked what she was thinking. That was still in the days of their fresh marriage. Just seeing him made her happy, so she told him, smiling, about the snow at the Wild Goose Pagoda. Then she had clung to his arm, coquettishly saying: “Husband, when you have the time one day, let’s go see the Wild Goose Pagoda snow together, shall we?”
He had looked at her holding his arm, his body seeming to stiffen. After a pause, he slowly withdrew his arm. “Alright.”
But her heart had been caught up in his pulling away, and she hadn’t taken in that “alright.”
Thinking back on it now…
Shen Yujiao’s thick black lashes trembled. She lifted her face and gave Pei Xia a gentle smile. “Alright.”
She agreed, still with that soft, mild smile.
Pei Xia thought he ought to be happy, but why did his chest feel stifled, and deep within him rise a yearning he had never known?
That single “alright” was far from enough. He wanted more…
As for what “more” meant—
That same bewilderment he’d felt back in the Xie family’s little courtyard, when she, with tear-dimmed eyes, pleaded that a gentleman should grant others fulfillment—that feeling surged up once again.
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