At the gate, master and servants gazed at one another through tears, with countless words they longed to say.
Fortunately, Qiao Momo was one who knew propriety and restraint. After paying respects, she reminded Pei Xia and Shen Yujiao to go inside and rest first.
Shen Yujiao too knew it was improper to reminisce out here in the dark, so she followed Pei Xia indoors.
The main residence of the courtyard had three rooms—one bright and two side rooms. To the left and right stood neat rows of small side chambers. The courtyard had been carefully swept, with a coarse clay water jar in the center, housing lotus and two small bright-red koi. In the corners of the walls stood some trees, though with the dim light, Shen Yujiao did not see clearly.
Yet from the flowerpots under the veranda, and the furnishings inside—the curtained canopy bed, the screens, the incense burners—everything was in the colors and patterns she liked: serene, simple, yet with touches of feminine warmth and delicacy.
At a glance, Shen Yujiao knew these must be arranged by Qiao Momo, Xiaying, and Dongxu. No one else could have understood her tastes so well.
“My lady, please sit with Master and have some hot tea first,” Qiao Momo said as she bustled about, then instructed Xiaying and Dongxu: “Go quickly to help my lady unpack the chests. She is with child now. Every item must be carefully checked. Anything unfit to be in the main room, set aside in a side chamber. I will come later to look over them again.”
“Yes.” Xiaying and Dongxu replied, their gazes lingering on their mistress, reluctant to look away, wishing to etch her face deeply into memory. Yet they also noticed Bai Ping and Qiulu, the maids Shen Yujiao had brought from Wenxi—old and new maids meeting, a moment that must be faced.
After they withdrew, Qiao Momo personally brought hot tea.
For Pei Xia, she steeped Junshan silver-needle tea. For Shen Yujiao, she served a warm cup of honeyed osmanthus water.
The moment the lid lifted and the sweet, heady fragrance of osmanthus rose to her nose, Shen Yujiao’s eyes brimmed again. She took two sips to moisten her throat, but when she spoke her voice was still hoarse: “Momo…. these past months, have you been well? How is it that you are here?”
Yuniang has missed you so much. Such soft, girlish words hovered at the edge of her lips, but with Pei Xia present, she swallowed them back.
How could Qiao Momo not understand her young lady’s heart? She had carried her in her arms since infancy, watched her grow from a chubby baby into a graceful young woman, now wed as wife and soon to be mother herself.
Suppressing her own wave of emotion, Qiao Momo smiled and said: “My lady, rest assured, this old servant is quite well. Last year, when the household servants were sent to the broker’s market, within two days your aunt bought back my family, Steward Luo’s family, and Wen Pozi’s family. We entered the Li household and continued in service as usual. Madam Li is a kind and generous lady, treating us old servants with nothing but goodness.”
Hearing that Qiao Momo, her father’s steward Luo, and her older brother’s nanny Wen-mama had all gone to her maternal family, Shen Yujiao secretly breathed a sigh of relief: “That’s good.”
After a pause, she asked, “Then why do I only see Xiaying and Dongxu? Where are Chunxi and Qiushuang?”
At this, Qiao Momo’s face darkened with sorrow. She sighed: “Though your aunt wished to take care of us, her ability was limited. The household already had no shortage of servants. To buy us old retainers back was already a burden of food and clothing. How could she afford to raise even more idle mouths? And Chunxi and the others, being young and pretty, were in high demand at the broker’s, fetching high prices. Almost as soon as they arrived, they were bought. I only reunited with Xiaying and Dongxu a few days ago—one had been bought into the household of a Vice Supervisor at the Ministry of Revenue, the other by the family of a Shulang at the Hongwen Academy…”
Saying this, she composed herself and bowed deeply to Pei Xia, her gratitude earnest: “Master, you are truly thoughtful. For the sake of our lady, you spent so much effort to find us again. This kindness, we servants will remember all our lives, never daring to forget.”
When Shen Yujiao heard these words, how could she not understand?
Her old servants had scattered, each finding new masters. It was Pei Xia who inquired after them, then bought them back one by one. This matter, consuming effort, thought, and money, he had never once mentioned to her.
To say she was not moved would be false. Warmth welled in Shen Yujiao’s heart; she set down her cup, rose from the couch, and bent her knees in a bow toward Pei Xia: “Many thanks, Langjun, for finding back my old servants…”
Pei Xia’s gaze flickered faintly. He reached out to support her arm: “You and I are husband and wife; no need for such formality.”
He helped Shen Yujiao sit back down. His brows knit slightly, as though with guilt: “As for your other two maids, I’ve also had people inquire. Only, the one named Chunxi followed a Sogdian merchant westward in the eighth month, while the one named Qiushuang was bought by the magistrate’s household in Wannian County. She was taken as concubine by their eldest son, and is now a recognized secondary wife.”
Shen Yujiao and Qiao Momo both froze, not expecting Chunxi and Qiushuang to end in such circumstances.
There was some sighing in their hearts. Yet thinking again, after she herself married into the Pei clan, had she not nearly lost her life, even fallen into destitution?
Each person has their own fate. In just over a year, to look back on the past—this sense of things changed, people changed, all gone—still brought deep melancholy.
After a cup of hot tea warmed her, supper was served outside.
Weary from days of travel, Shen Yujiao had little appetite. She and Pei Xia ate a few bites casually, then she went to bathe.
Pei Xia knew she must have much to say with Qiao Momo and the others. After supper, he withdrew to the study in the front courtyard, to busy himself.
Night deepened, the wind outside grew cold. In the bath chamber, steam coiled, mist lingering.
Shen Yujiao leaned lazily against the bath bucket, while behind her Qiao Momo herself washed and combed her hair. A long-missed ease and comfort, from heart to body, flowed through her whole being.
“It’s already spread throughout Chang’an that the Consort’s Momo saved you, and even took you as her goddaughter.”
Qiao Momo poured jasmine-scented rinse water into her palm, carefully rubbing each strand of her mistress’s hair. Her movements were gentle and meticulous, yet her expression carried heavy concern: “Lady, what truly happened in the fifth month? How did you end up in Jinling?”
Qiao Momo was like a second mother to Shen Yujiao. She did not conceal much, telling how she had been harmed into flight by Pei Tong and Madam Wang. But as for her encounter with Xie Wuling in Jinling, she did not mention it, only saying she was rescued by Miss Cui, sixth daughter of the prefect, and recuperated at the prefect’s manor until she reunited with Pei Xia.
Hearing the whole sequence, Qiao Momo felt both heartache and anger. She gnashed her teeth: “The Hedong Pei clan’s name is esteemed outside, and the young master himself has the reputation of a gentleman. Yet who could have thought his own mother and cousin would have such venomous, serpent hearts, making you suffer so bitterly! They bullied you only because you have no natal family to rely on. If the master and madam were still alive in Chang’an, would they dare act so vilely?”
Now Shen Yujiao’s heart was calm as still water. Hearing this, she opened her eyes and smiled gently to comfort her: “Great clans are like a flourishing tree. They look lush, but if you look closely, there will always be some tainted leaves and pests. Where in this world is there a family that is perfect? Besides, Langjun has already upheld justice for me. Now that I’ve followed him to Chang’an, living separately in another residence, isn’t that peaceful and free?”
Hearing such composed words, and seeing the serenity in her mistress’s eyes, honed by hardship, Qiao Momo’s heart grew sore. Her voice choked: “Our Yuniang has grown up.”
But the price of that growth had been too bitter, too heavy—nearly costing her life.
She thought of how once, in her natal home, she had been a little girl pampered in every way, and now had become a woman with her sharp edges worn away, calm and dignified…
Qiao Momo let out a long sigh, comforting herself: who can spend a lifetime carefree and innocent? Enduring it is enough.
“The past cannot be chased. Now that you’ve returned to Chang’an, you must look forward.” Qiao Momo said warmly: “You are with child now, and the young master is as fine as orchid and jade, a man like one from the heavens, treating you with such care and detail—truly beyond reproach. So, my lady, set your mind at ease. Bear the little master well, and afterward live harmoniously with the young master. Your blessings are still ahead of you.”
“You are right, Momo. I think so too.”
Shen Yujiao curved her eyes in a smile, then lazily rested her head against the tub’s edge, closing her eyes and murmuring softly: “With you by my side, it truly feels as though I’ve returned home. My heart is at peace.”
Qiao Momo smiled kindly: “Good. For those words, this old servant will stay by your side all my life.”
Mistress and servant exchanged warmth in the bath chamber. Only when the water grew somewhat cool did Shen Yujiao rise, dress, and return to her room.
In the bedchamber, the maids had already neatly arranged the daily items and clothing brought in the trunks. Only one thing—Xiaying had fished from the bottom of a chest a bright red, garishly embroidered square of silk, ugly in pattern, and together with Dongxu had examined it for half a day.
“What is this thing?”
“Looking at the shape and color, could it be a bridal veil?”
“A bridal veil? What kind of veil has ducks embroidered on it? And one eye big, one eye small—hideous!”
“But it can’t be our lady’s embroidery. Her needlework is excellent…”
“Then what on earth is it? Could it be that those two maids from the Pei household weren’t careful packing, and mixed in someone else’s belongings?”
“Hush! Don’t talk nonsense. What do you mean, ‘maids from the Pei household’? Don’t forget, we too are now servants of the Pei household! From now on, we’ll all be serving our lady together. Don’t go stirring trouble, or I won’t help you.”
“Alright, alright, I’ll remember, I won’t say it again in the future.”
The two maids muttered, then hearing the sound of genial laughter from outside the door, exchanged a glance and hurried out to welcome.
“Madam, please come inside, there’s a brazier warming the room.”
Xiaying and Dongxu entered smilingly, giving a respectful curtsey. Qiao Momo looked at them and also smiled: “Have the trunks Madam brought been put away properly?”
“All done, all done.”
“And the pillows, bedding, and incense, all changed?”
“Those too are done.”
Xiaying was lively; she winked mischievously: “When we handle matters, Madam and Momo can always be at ease.”
Seeing them surround her, each chiming in with playful words, Shen Yujiao felt more and more the warmth of returning to a maiden’s boudoir. That sense of intimacy spread, and she couldn’t help the smile deepening on her face.
When she finally sat by the couch and saw that the night had already grown late, Shen Yujiao, mindful of Qiao Momo’s age, told her to go rest first.
Qiao Momo did not fuss, only carefully instructed Xiaying and Dongxu a few things before withdrawing.
On either side of the long couch, the embroidered lamps of Green Waves and Bright Moon shed a hazy, gentle light. As Dongxu took a clean cloth to dry Shen Yujiao’s hair, she spoke at length about how, when the authorities had confiscated the household, the maids had been seized and later sold to new masters.
As Shen Yujiao listened, her heart grew heavy with melancholy. Just then, Xiaying came forward holding a piece of red silk and asked: “Madam, what is this silk for? Shall I put it away in your wardrobe, or keep it in the trunk?”
Red silk?
Her gaze fell upon that dazzling scarlet. From the lamp’s wick came a soft pib-po crackle. Shen Yujiao’s eyes wavered.
It was the bridal veil that Xie Wuling had thrust into her hands in the pouring rain.
That day, after he stuffed it to her, she had secretly hidden it in her sleeve, later tucking it away at the very bottom of her trunk. She carried it all the way to Luoyang, and now to Chang’an…
Xie Wuling.
The moment his name surfaced in her mind, so too did that handsome, laughing face, along with his voice—at times joyful, at times playful, at times earnest, at times sorrowful—calling again and again: “Jiaojiao.”
“Jiaojiao, don’t forget me.”
That was the last thing he had said to her when they parted.
Don’t forget him.
Don’t forget him…
“Madam?” Xiaying called twice in puzzlement.
Shen Yujiao’s lashes trembled. Looking again at that red bridal veil, she said, “Bring it here.”
Though she did not understand, Xiaying handed it over.
Cradling the red veil, Shen Yujiao lowered her gaze to study it. At first she had only thought the two mandarin ducks embroidered on it were ugly, but ever since she learned it was stitched by his own hand, the more she looked, the more its awkwardness seemed endearing—
Who would have imagined that such a burly, rough man would, in the middle of the night, take up a needle to secretly embroider a bridal veil?
It was funny, and yet in her heart there rose a trace of sweetness. Only, that sweetness spread out slowly until it dissolved into nothing but a lingering ache.
Had he been well these past months apart?
His bruised and battered face must have healed by now, surely? And how was he faring in his post at the yamen? Still, with the silver he had and the Pei family’s wet nurse and servants to care for him, his life must be far more comfortable than before—so long as he could forget her.
Just as she herself must treat that past as a dream and look forward…
Her slender pale fingers lightly traced those coarse stitches. Shen Yujiao lowered her lashes, her eyes gradually misting over.
Xie Wuling, thank you.
She thought: even if fate denies them a lifetime together, that brief moment of true-hearted devotion was still something she would carry with gratitude.
Seeing their mistress clutch the red silk with such sorrow on her face, Xiaying and Dongxu exchanged a glance, both puzzled, just about to speak—when suddenly the maid at the gate greeted respectfully outside: “Blessings to the Master.”
“Madam, the Master has come,” Xiaying reminded.
Shen Yujiao was jolted out of her memories. Looking again at the veil in her hands, shame washed over her.
She was a married woman—how could she be so unfaithful in her thoughts, thinking of another man?
“Xiaying, hide it away first, put it back into the trunk later.” Shen Yujiao quickly handed over the red veil.
Years of service made Xiaying instantly understand. She slipped the veil into her sleeve. With winter clothes thick, it could not be seen.
Just then, from behind the seven-paneled sandalwood screen dividing the antechamber from the bedchamber, Pei Xia entered, draped in a dark cloak.
Seeing Shen Yujiao sitting by the couch, towel in hand drying her hair, he removed the cloak and handed it to Xiaying, then walked toward her. “Qiao Momo has retired?”
Shen Yujiao still carried a trace of guilty conscience, and dared not meet his eyes, only answered softly: “She’s old in years, and sleeps early at night.”
When Pei Xia sat across from her, she noticed he had changed into a moon-white robe beneath, and searched for words: “Did Langjun wash up in the front hall already?”
“Mhm. I guessed you must have much to talk about here, so I bathed in the front courtyard.”
“…”
In the past, if he bathed in the front courtyard, he would also rest there.
But now, he had still returned to sleep in her chambers.
Shen Yujiao could not ignore the intention of closeness behind his action. Yet the thought of her own wandering heart just now made her sink with self-reproach.
“If Langjun is tired, perhaps you should rest first. I’ll be done here soon.” She softened her tone.
Pei Xia raised his eyes. By the wavering candlelight, he saw her in an ivory-white under-robe, black hair half-wet and falling down, her head inclined slightly to allow the maid behind her to dry it. With only familiar old attendants waiting at her side, she was completely at ease, her posture more languid, more delicate than she ever appeared in the Pei household—like a young girl in her boudoir, tender and unguarded.
So this was how she had always been in her boudoir?
Truly… a young little lady.
Counting her years, she was but a younger sister.
Pei Xia suddenly rose and said to Dongxu: “Give me the towel. You two may withdraw.”
Not only were Dongxu and Xiaying stunned, even Shen Yujiao looked up at the man before her in surprise: “Langjun?”
Pei Xia took the towel, the moon-white robe on his body making him appear all the more refined and gentle. “There’s nothing else to do, let them rest.”
Hearing this, Xiaying and Dongxu exchanged a glance—seeing that the husband wanted to dry Madam’s hair himself, what else could this be but boudoir intimacy?
They both curved their brows in a smile and curtseyed: “Many thanks for the thoughtfulness. Madam, your servants will take their leave first.”
Saying so, they lingered no more, nudging one another playfully as they laughed their way out.
Thinking of their ambiguous glances as they left, Shen Yujiao: “……”
They were still too naïve.
Pei Xia was not the kind of man who knew of such tender sentiment. Most likely, he only wished to dry her hair quickly so she could go to bed sooner.
As she pondered, the man at her side had already taken the towel and begun drying her hair. “If I pull too hard, you must tell me.”
“…Alright.”
Even though he dried her hair through the cloth, Shen Yujiao was still unused to this intimacy. All the more when he leaned close, the rich sandalwood scent on him pressed straight into her nose, making her feel utterly unsettled.
Since Dongxu had already finished with the left side, Pei Xia soon moved to drying the hair on her right.
Perhaps because the room was too quiet, the two exchanged a few words here and there, but neither was ever talkative. After a few sentences about the joy of meeting Qiao Momo and the others again, silence fell once more.
Before she knew it, Shen Yujiao began to feel drowsy.
No matter how she tried to fight it, the calming incense in the room and that profound quiet were too lulling.
Her body swayed lightly twice. Just as she was about to pinch her palm to keep awake, the man suddenly stepped in front of her.
Then his broad palm pressed against the back of her head, drawing her to lean against him.
Shen Yujiao: “……?”
His calm voice sounded above her: “If you’re tired, lean.”
Shen Yujiao: “……”
She knew he meant well, but…
She was seated while he stood; her forehead rested right at his waist and abdomen. She dared not let her gaze fall lower.
She told herself Pei Xia surely had no other thought in mind…
“Langjun, hurry up.”
Eyes closed, she urged softly, telling herself not to overthink—just treat him like a pillar to lean on.
“…Alright.”
At first, Pei Xia indeed had no other thought.
But then, that soft, lingering, almost coquettish urging, sounded against his waist like something tangible, stirring a strange heat within him.
He lowered his gaze. Before him was his wife’s slender, snow-pale neck. Because of her lowered posture, that graceful swan-like neck lay completely bared in the warm air, so elegant and fragile it seemed as though a single palm could hold it fast.
A stray lock of hair clung to her smooth skin, slipping down into the slightly open collar. Beneath the ivory under-robe, her shoulders and back were slender, yet her front curved in delicate, full contours.
The warm yellow candlelight, diffused through the lampshade, cast a hazy glow over her porcelain-fair side profile, as if she herself emitted a soft radiance—like jade, like pearl—making one instinctively want to draw her into the palm and toy with her.
When his long fingers brushed against the tender skin of her neck, the body beneath his hand trembled faintly, but she did not push him away, nor make a sound.
As if under some secret spell, his fingertips slid along her neck until they reached her small, pale earlobe.
The moment he pinched it, her back stiffened. She lifted her head: “Langjun?”
That startled exclamation cleared Pei Xia’s gaze somewhat.
But then, seeing that upturned face—fair and radiant, black hair spilling loose, collar slightly slack, under the thin under-robe a body soft and full, her brows and eyes serene and gentle from pregnancy, her whole being exuding a calm, sacred charm, yet also like a ripe peach glistening on the branch…
Pei Xia’s throat bobbed, and heat surged uncontrollably through his body.
If the touch at her neck just now could still be dismissed as accidental, the pinch of her earlobe and the intensity of his gaze in the candlelight left no room for doubt. How could Shen Yujiao not understand?
Her heart suddenly flustered. She sat up quickly, crimson rising over her cheeks: “L–Langjun, there’s no need, that’s enough…”
Pei Xia fixed his gaze on her blushing face, his voice rough: “Yuniang, I—”
“Don’t… don’t say it.” Shen Yujiao’s words stumbled. What had come over him tonight, to be suddenly so stirred?
She dared not let her eyes wander again, turning her face aside, one hand pressed over her swelling belly, both ears red as blood, lashes trembling: “Langjun, it can’t be. During pregnancy, we can’t… it could harm the child.”
Pei Xia looked at her flushed face, her fearful, protective gesture over her belly. In that instant, he sobered.
Then glancing down at the unseemly reaction beneath his moon-white robe, his eyes darkened, voice sinking: “Forgive me. I lost control.”
Shen Yujiao kept her head lowered, biting her lip, silent.
“You rest first. I’ll take a walk outside.”
The towel was left upon the table at her side. Shen Yujiao only felt the figure before her blur, followed by the sound of his hurried footsteps leaving the room.
Only when the sound of footsteps had faded did she lift her head, catching just the sweep of a moon-white robe vanishing behind the screen.
Thinking of that deep, shadowed look in his eyes just now, Shen Yujiao’s heart was still pounding wildly, her earlobes seeming to retain the lingering warmth of the man’s calloused fingertips brushing against them.
How could he have… been like that?
On second thought, he was only abstinent in temperament, not devoid of desire. In the past, though they had kept a lukewarm relationship, on the first and fifteenth of each month there had still been those two times.
And those few nights in May, when he was away from home, had already shown her that if he gave free rein, he too could be greedy enough.
It was just that his self-control had always been far beyond that of ordinary men, even in matters between man and woman.
For him to be like this today—could it be that he had endured too long?
After all, the child in her belly was already seven months along, and he had no other women at his side. Calculating it out, he had been living like a monk for more than half a year…
Shen Yujiao’s heart was both shy and conflicted. Her mind even recalled those methods Auntie Liu had once told her about—ways for a wife to relieve her husband during pregnancy.
Such means, if it were Xie Wuling, that fellow would have been overjoyed.
But for Pei Xia…
A man so upright and proper, even in intimacy adhering only to the most conservative position of woman-on-the bottom man on top, how could he possibly accept such indecent methods…
Her thoughts wandered about in confusion until her face felt as though it might burn away. She hastily took up the towel, gave her hair a perfunctory rub, then extinguished the lamp and lay back down on the bed.
It was not until deep in the night, when she was drifting in a half-dream, that a tall body still carrying a trace of cool night air slipped beneath the covers.
Shen Yujiao had meant to ask, but she was too weary. Drowsiness heavy, she only thought vaguely:
He really had been gone a long time this time.
