The chill of late winter scoured the boundless wilderness. Mist coiled, the trees were bare, heaven and earth awash in bleak gray-blue.
A plain green-canopied carriage sped down the road. After an unknown stretch, a sharp, childish voice rang out from within: “Stop, stop quickly!”
“Whoa—”
The horses slowed. The young driver in a hawk-shouldered brown coat turned his head: “What is it, young master?”
Before he could finish, a thin boy of about ten scrambled out clumsily, clutched the side of the carriage, face pale: “Urgh!”
“Hey, slowly, young master—don’t soil yourself.”
Xie Wuling hurried to rein in the horses and passed over a water skin: “Drink some, ease it.”
The little shizi of Marquis Zhennan, nine-year-old Huo Yunchang, shoved it aside, his delicate pale face full of disdain: “I don’t want it.”
Xie Wuling’s lips twitched; he clicked his tongue. This brat and his endless fuss.
Were he not the shizi of a marquisate, he’d have tanned the boy’s backside.
Huo Yunchang retched a long while. The two wheat cakes he had eaten that morning were gone, and with nothing left to vomit, the nausea eased somewhat once the carriage had stopped.
He dragged himself upright. One of his guards, Yue Hong, rode forward, face worried: “Young master, are you all right?”
Huo Yunchang lifted his pale face: “Do you think this looks all right?”
He was about to be jolted to death!!
Yue Hong: “…”
The boy before him, in a plain maroon coat, tiger hat askew, face smudged with dust, looked no more than a peasant urchin splashing mud in the village—where was the dignity of a marquis’s shizi?
“Brother Xie, we’ve already covered much ground since early morning. Why not stop a while to rest?” Yue Hong glanced at Xie Wuling, who was also dressed as a commoner.
This fellow’s looks were striking—as fine as the young shizi’s. Even in shabby clothes, he had an inborn presence. No wonder Commander Huo had picked him from the army ranks to join the elite guard escorting the little shizi.
Today marked the fifth day since they had left Ningzhou.
Once the party left Ningzhou’s borders, three waves of bandits came to intercept them.
The bandits threw away all concern for cost, harboring the same sinister thought—wipe out the Huo family’s line.
If the Huo family had no shizi, it would surely deal a heavy blow to Huo Xiao and the morale of the Ningzhou army. That, to the bandits, was far more satisfying than winning a battle.
For this reason, when a letter came from the Madam Dowager in the manor, saying she missed her legitimate great-grandson and wanted him home for the New Year, Huo Xiao decided to send that precious only seedling back to Chang’an.
At the Son of Heaven’s feet, with mountains high and waters long between, however rampant the bandits might be, they would not dare to run wild in Chang’an.
Thus this return journey became one of utmost importance.
After clashing with bandits on the first day, Xie Wuling realized that continuing back in such an obvious way was no different from a fat sheep swaying along the road, just waiting for slaughter.
So, after conferring with the guards’ commander Yue Hong, he stuffed two straw men in clothes and caps belonging to Huo Yunzhang, and split the group into three routes overnight—
The main force carried Straw Man No.1 down the open road, drawing most of the fire.
Another small team carried Straw Man No.2, left clues, and deliberately lured the bandits down side paths.
Xie Wuling and Yue Hong, meanwhile, took the real Huo Yunzhang, disguised themselves as an uncle and nephew going into town to visit relatives, and traveled along county roads.
This arrangement truly proved effective. At least these past four days had been smooth; no further ambushes.
Only the pampered young shizi kept complaining without end: “When exactly can we meet back up with Guard Qin and the others?”
He truly could not bear these coarse clothes, the stupid tiger-head cap, the rock-hard flatcakes, the tooth-chattering cold water, the bone-rattling jolts of the carriage!
Had he known it would be so miserable, he would have stayed in Ningzhou City instead of returning to Chang’an.
The carriage stopped by the roadside. Yue Hong fetched a clean water-skin, quickly lit a small fire, and pulled out a little iron pot to brew tea for the young shizi. “Young Master, just endure two more days. Once we reach Jiangzhou, you’ll be able to board a boat straight to Chang’an.”
Huo Yunzhang accepted the warm bowl of tea. After one sip, his stomach eased, and his childish temper subsided somewhat. Looking at Yue Hong and Xie Wuling standing aside, he pursed his lips, and with forced steadiness ordered: “You two, sit down as well, and drink some hot tea.”
Yue Hong bowed his head. “This subordinate dares not. So long as Young Master rests.”
Xie Wuling, however, stared at the fragrant hot tea, his throat bobbing.
Huo Yunzhang noticed. Though he rather disliked this insolent soldier who ignored rank, he had to admit the man had some wit—these trouble-free days of travel were proof enough.
No wonder, before departure, his grandfather had said to him earnestly: “Along the way, observe this Xie Wuling well. In future, he may become one of your trusted generals.”
A trusted general?
Huo Yunzhang curled his lips. “If you want to drink, then drink. No need to pretend.”
Xie Wuling raised a brow.
These pampered young nobles—child or adult alike—always carried that unconscious air of superiority. Truly annoying.
Thinking this, he no longer bothered with courtesy toward the brat. His task was only to deliver the brat safely to Chang’an. Once done, Commander Huo would promote him two ranks. Whether the brat was happy or not was none of his concern.
“Then many thanks, Young Master, for bestowing the tea.”
Xie Wuling gave a lazy clasp of hands, then pulled out a bronze cup from his bundle and poured himself a drink.
“In this freezing cold, hot water is still the best.” He let out a long sigh, white vapor curling from his mouth, then glanced at Yue Hong: “Brother Yue, you should drink too, warm yourself. Don’t waste the Young Master’s kindness.”
Yue Hong pressed his lips together.
Huo Yunzhang held his porcelain cup, glancing at the “thick-skinned” Xie Wuling, then at the “honest and simple” Yue Hong: “Guard Yue, you drink too.”
Any more polite refusing, and this whole pot of good tea would be finished by that fellow surnamed Xie!
Yue Hong had also rushed along since early morning, cold wind cracking the skin of his face. Now, seeing Xie Wuling drinking already, he no longer restrained himself, sat down, and poured a cup of hot tea.
While they drank, Xie Wuling did not stay idle; he pulled out a much-worn copy of The Art of War from his chest and began to read.
Huo Yunzhang sipped his tea slowly, stealing glances. Seeing the words “Attack by Stratagem” at the top of the page, he couldn’t hold back a mutter: “Why are you still stuck on the Attack by Stratagem chapter?”
The Art of War has thirteen chapters; “Attack by Stratagem” is the third.
This man had been reading since day one. Five days now, and only at the third chapter? A turtle crawls faster.
Hearing Huo Yunzhang’s voice, Xie Wuling lifted his eyelids: “Young Master has read this as well?”
“Sun Wu’s military classic, words like pearls and jade—it is a must-read for all soldiers. I am to be a great general in the future, commander of Ningzhou’s forces—how could I not read it?”
The half-grown child raised his chin, his young face both proud and resolute: “I began my studies at three, and at five I studied the art of war. Sun Wu’s classic has six thousand and seventy-five characters. I read it in one day, recited it in seven, and within fifteen I could recite it backwards with ease…”
“Oh? That impressive?” Xie Wuling feigned surprise.
After all, still just a child—hearing praise, Huo Yunzhang’s lips curved: “Of course. I am a descendant of the Huo clan; I must not disgrace my forebears.”
“Since Young Master has studied the art of war so well, this line—‘To fight and win a hundred battles is not the acme of skill. To subdue the enemy without fighting, that is the acme of skill.’—I’ve read it again and again, but never quite understood it. Might Young Master explain it to me?”
Ever since Huo Xiao had gifted Xie Wuling this book, Xie Wuling would flip through it whenever he had free time.
But he had never studied before; though he had learned a few characters following Shen Yujiao, he was still half illiterate.
It had taken great effort, begging those literate in the camp, for him to learn every character in the book. Yet once those characters were strung into sentences, twisted and wound together, he still could not quite understand.
At such times, he would always think of Shen Yujiao. If Jiaojiao were by his side, seeing him with a mind to study, she would surely be delighted and patiently teach him.
Though she had never said so, he could see—she liked men of learning.
And that pale pretty-face surnamed Pei—he was precisely such a man.
Not only well-read, but well-versed in military strategy too. During the pacification of Huainan, he had fought several brilliant battles. When Ningzhou’s generals drank together, they would praise that Pei: “D*mn, he’s really got skill—who knows how that head of his grew to be so sharp?”
And as for himself, he struggled mightily just to read a book on the art of war.
Huo Yunzhang did not notice the sudden dimness in Xie Wuling’s eyes. Seeing this usually boisterous and careless fellow now asking him for guidance, the boy’s small chest swelled with unspeakable pride; his shoulders straightened: “The Attack by Stratagem chapter speaks of winning by cunning, of seizing victory through strategy. That line you asked about means…”
He began explaining to Xie Wuling in all seriousness.
Xie Wuling also listened with equal seriousness.
Beside them, Yue Hong gulped his tea with a slurp: “…”
Who was he, where was he, what was he supposed to be doing.
Forget it, might as well listen along.
In the time it took to drink a cup of tea, Huo Yunzhang had explained the whole Attack by Stratagem chapter.
Though young, he had begun reading early; even at only nine years old, the ink in his belly far surpassed Xie Wuling’s.
When the party set out again, Xie Wuling’s manner toward the young shizi was three parts more respectful. He even went ahead to help him onto the carriage: “Please, Young Master.”
Huo Yunzhang gave him a glance, refused the hand, and lifted his own robe to climb up.
Xie Wuling guessed the little brat might have a touch of fastidiousness, so he didn’t take offense. He lifted the curtain for him: “Young Master, slowly now.”
This show of attentiveness made Huo Yunzhang uncomfortable all over; he rubbed his arms: “Don’t be like that, it gives me the creeps.”
Xie Wuling: “Alright, alright, I’ll heed Young Master in everything.”
Huo Yunzhang narrowed his eyes suspiciously: “Why are you suddenly so polite?”
“Young Master wrongs me with those words. I’ve always held you in heartfelt respect—especially since you are so young, and already so learned. My wife once told me, ‘When three walk together, one can always be my teacher.’ At the time, I didn’t understand. But now, meeting Young Master, I understand.”
Xie Wuling beamed at him: “There are three of us traveling together—you, me, and Brother Yue. That makes Young Master my teacher, doesn’t it?”
Huo Yunzhang: “…?”
So that line from the Analects—was it really meant to be taken that literally? Why did it feel somehow not quite right…
Before he could think it through, Xie Wuling had already clasped his fists in salute: “One look at Young Master, and it’s clear you’re a benevolent soul. On this journey ahead, I must trouble Young Master to teach me the Art of War.”
Huo Yunzhang had wanted to say “I won’t teach you,” but when the words reached his lips, he saw this usually careless man bowing his head, fists clasped, wearing a look of genuine humility. Suddenly he fell silent.
This man’s martial skills were unquestionable. If he could also learn some strategy, he would surely have even greater prospects.
He wasn’t ashamed to ask a child for instruction—shouldn’t he, then, as magnanimous as a minister, give some guidance? After all, there was nothing else to do on this road.
He gave a proud little snort, lifted his chin, and said: “Didn’t expect a rough fellow like you to have a wife who even knows the Analects.”
At this, Xie Wuling raised his thick brows, face full of pride: “Ah, then Young Master doesn’t know—my wife is truly learned…”
From then on, Xie Wuling’s mouth never stopped, praising his wife to the skies, as though she were unrivaled under heaven.
In the jolting carriage, face pale and ears denied peace, Huo Yunzhang: “…”
Are all married men this long-winded? If he’d known, he never would have asked!
Two days later, the party reached Jiangzhou’s docks.
Boarding the passenger ship bound directly for Chang’an, gazing out over the surging waves, Xie Wuling pressed a hand against the bright-red sachet tucked in his robe. His blood surged as wildly as the river—
In just one more month, he would see Jiaojiao again.
The river water was icy to the bone, yet his blood burned hot. In his chest, his heart pounded like fire, beating out his urgency and longing.
—
At the start of the twelfth month, Chang’an greeted the first snowfall of the nineteenth year of Yuan Shou.
Overnight, the courtyards lay blanketed in thick white. Dark green roof tiles were capped in snow, bare branches hung with icy clusters, the sky was pale and grey, the ground a bleak blur of white. Amid the bleak cold wind with its fine flakes of snow, maidservants in padded coats bustled, exhaling white breath as they swept.
They said a timely snow augured a good harvest. And not two days after this snow fell, the army that had pacified Huainan returned to Chang’an.
The drifting white snow could not suppress the people’s fervor. On the day the army entered the city, Chang’an’s people lined the streets in welcome, cheers unending. The soldiers could not hide their pride. Though their cheeks were frozen red, clad in armor they marched with a majestic, vigorous bearing.
Shen Yujiao had wanted to go see the spectacle, but Qiao Momo said her body was heavy now, and the snow made the ground slippery, with crowds pressing against each other. She did not allow her to go.
So Shen Yujiao could only give up, sending Bai Ping and Qiulu out instead, while she stayed quietly in the manor. Under the veranda, she set a small brazier and roasted Zhengzhou pears just delivered from the kitchen.
Snow lay pure and bright; under the slow roasting of a small flame, the snow pears gradually released a clear, sweet fragrance.
Shen Yujiao, wrapped in a white fox-fur cloak, leaned lazily against the round-backed chair, half watching the fluttering snowflakes outside the veranda, half listening to Xiaying and Dongxu chatter about the recent amusements in Chang’an.
Around noon, Baiping and Qiulu returned from watching the spectacle, their faces unable to hide their excitement.
“Oh, that army was magnificent!”
“There were so many people, we nearly got pushed apart! My lady, it was right you didn’t go out—on the way I saw several people stumble and fall.”
The two maids animatedly described the grand scene on the streets. Shen Yujiao listened quietly, her gaze drifting to the horizon, thinking: by now, Pei Xia should already be in the palace.
She wondered what reward His Majesty might bestow upon him.
Gold and silver, jewels? Or high office and rich salary?
Inside Taiji Hall, splendid in gold and jade, towering and vast, the ministers stood lined on both sides, solemn and dignified.
“Sixth Master Pei, in this campaign pacifying Huainan, you devised stratagems time and again, your merits beyond measure. The Second Prince has praised you before me more than once as a man of uncommon talent.”
Having won victory, even Emperor Zhaoning’s gaunt face was touched with color, his eyes warm with mirth: “Is there any reward you wish for?”
Ordinarily, when the emperor posed such a question, it was but courtesy. Officials would respond with fearful thanks or polite refusal, for thunder or dew alike were imperial grace, and whatever the emperor granted, they accepted with gratitude.
But this time, the tall figure in cyan robes folded his sleeves and made a deep bow: “This humble subject dares to beg Your Majesty’s mercy—allow me to exchange my military merit for Your Majesty’s pardon of my father-in-law Shen Hui’s family, to lift their sentence of exile, and permit them to return to Chang’an, so that my wife’s family may be reunited.”
The voice, cold gold and clear jade, rang steady and unhurried through the hall.
The vast hall fell instantly silent. The assembled ministers held their breath, all thinking the same: This Sixth Master Pei is far too bold!
Among the officials, those of the Pei clan from Hedong, as well as Li Conghe and his son, felt prickled as though sitting on thorns. Even in the dead of winter, the hands gripping their ivory tablets sweated cold.
The mirth on Emperor Zhaoning’s face stilled, his dark eyes fixed tightly upon that figure in the golden hall—refined as bamboo.
The gentleman of Hedong, Pei Shouzhen.
Seated high in the hall, he had long heard this young man’s name.
Last year, learning that he had married the Shen girl and fulfilled the engagement, he had not minded. After all, it was but a woman—if he wished to marry, let him. Besides, that Shen family girl was said to be Chancellor Shen’s most cherished granddaughter…
Since she was the beloved granddaughter of his old teacher, it was no great matter to let her have a good marriage.
He had not expected, however, that later she would be driven into exile, her plight stirring much clamor…
And now, at the very feast of reward, this Pei Shouzhen dared to use military merit to plead for Shen Hui’s pardon.
Emperor Zhaoning narrowed his eyes, a faint sneer in his heart.
So he truly was… a man of deep sentiment and loyalty.
The emperor on the throne gave no reply, and the atmosphere in the hall grew heavy.
Though the Second Prince reproached Pei Xia inwardly for being rash, he still stepped forward and spoke gently: “Royal Father does not yet know. Sixth Master Pei’s wife is with child, due to give birth after the New Year. Sixth Master has always cherished her; it must be that he cannot bear to see her suffer the grief of longing for kin, so he has dared to make this plea. Father has always ruled the realm with benevolence and filial piety. Though Sixth Master’s request is imprudent, it springs from the truest love and filial devotion.”
Emperor Zhaoning cast him a cool glance, then let his gaze fall once more on Pei Xia, musing: “Sixth Master Pei, do you know what crimes Shen Hui’s family committed?”
“Your Majesty, this humble subject knows my wife’s family committed grave crimes. Were it not for Your Majesty’s benevolence, by the laws of Great Liang, even slow slicing would not have been too much. My wife and I often speak of this with deep gratitude for Your Majesty’s boundless grace, ashamed beyond words.”
Pei Xia bent lower still.
“Yet as children, knowing our elders suffer punishment in the harsh lands of Lingnan, how can we rest easy? Therefore, when Your Majesty asked what reward I sought, I thought again and again, and still dared beg Your Majesty to grant them a chance of pardon and return. If Your Majesty deems my request excessive, then this humble subject seeks nothing at all, and will accept whatever Your Majesty arranges.”
The emperor’s long fingers tapped lightly on the dragon throne’s armrest.
“I had intended to appoint you Hanlin scholar, to serve at the Hanlin Academy beside me.”
Pei Xia answered: “This humble subject has yet no degree; how could I shamelessly enter the Hanlin Academy? When I sit the Spring Examinations next year, should I win a place on the golden list, only then would I be worthy of Your Majesty’s trust.”
This young man’s tone—how arrogant indeed.
“If in the Spring Examination you fail, would you not lose this chance?” the emperor asked, voice unreadable.
“If I fail next year, three years later there is another chance. But my parents-in-law are old and frail; who knows how many sets of three years they can endure.”
With a sigh, Pei Xia lifted his robe and dropped to one knee.
“The tree longs for stillness, but the wind will not cease; the child longs to care, but the parent no longer waits. Your Majesty is a man of utmost filial piety—surely you understand the meaning within.”
Emperor Zhaoning fell silent.
How could he not understand?
His own mother, the Empress Dowager Xiaoci, had suffered hardship all her life, never knowing a day of ease.
Even though her son became emperor, possessing the realm, after her death all the honor he lavished was nothing but cold comfort.
After a long silence, Emperor Zhaoning slowly raised his eyes, gaze unreadable as he fixed upon that straight and graceful figure in the hall.
“This grace I will hold in reserve. When you succeed in next year’s Spring Examination, I shall decide then whether to grant it.”
At these words, the breath caught in Pei Xia’s chest was finally released. He bent low and knocked his head to the ground.
“This humble subject will never fail Your Majesty’s sacred grace. Long live the emperor, long live, ten thousand years!”
—
As evening neared, the wind and snow finally ceased.
Shen Yujiao had roasted three pears: she ate one, gave one to Qiao Momo, and was debating whether to save the last one for Pei Xia or roast a fresh one when he returned, when the maidservants outside the curtain announced:
“Lady, the young master has come back.”
That spared her the dilemma.
Shen Yujiao smoothed her hair, and when she saw the tall, slender figure step in from behind the brocade curtain, she straightened from her cushions and said with a smile: “Langjun, you’ve come back just in time. A moment later and this roasted pear would have fallen into my belly.”
Pei Xia handed the dark-blue cloak from his shoulders to a maid, his gaze brushing across the jade plate where the pear was baked to a faint golden crisp. His brows eased slightly: “If you wish to eat it, then eat it. I won’t fight you for it.”
“Langjun, you mustn’t indulge our lady so. Pears are cold in nature, and she’s already had one.” Qiao Momo looked at Shen Yujiao helplessly. “Madam, you can’t use the excuse of being with child to be willful.”
Shen Yujiao laughed awkwardly.
Seeing her a little chastened, Pei Xia’s eyes curved with a trace of amusement. “Momo is right—you can’t have another.”
He came to the couch, pushed the plate of roasted pear aside, and looked at Shen Yujiao. “I’ll keep watch over Madam.”
Shen Yujiao: “…”
It was only a joke—she wasn’t that greedy.
When Qiao Momo saw the young couple seemed to have things to say to each other, she set out tea and cakes, then led the attendants out.
Shen Yujiao hugged the hand-warmer, sitting on the warm couch, watching as Pei Xia, with his usual graceful manner, ate the roasted pear. She asked about his audience in the palace that day.
Pei Xia did not care for sweets; after half a pear, he set aside the silver spoon and recounted the events in the hall as they were.
When she heard he had actually raised the matter of pardon in the Taiji Hall, Shen Yujiao at once sat upright, eyes wide: “How could you act so rashly? I told you before not to mention it! What if you angered His Majesty—what then?”
Seeing her so anxious, Pei Xia sat beside her, lightly patting the back of her hand. “It was only for a pardon, not a retrial. It will not anger His Majesty.”
On joyous occasions or in certain seasons, emperors would issue amnesties. That was an expression of royal benevolence.
Shen Yujiao knew the difference, but still said, “Even so, it’s too reckless.”
Her brows drew tight; looking at the man before her, worry clouded her face. “If something were truly to happen to you, then I…”
She paused, lowered her head, and murmured, “Then what would the child and I do?”
Her long lashes drooped, trembling like butterfly wings. Pei Xia felt his own heart quiver with them.
After a moment, he raised his hand, two slender fingers gently lifting her tender face, meeting her gaze.
“Yuniang, do you trust me?”
Shen Yujiao stared, dazed, into those ink-dark eyes. His gaze carried a persuasive calm, steady and convincing.
“Of course I trust you.” She bit her lip lightly. “Only…”
“As long as you trust me, that is enough.”
Pei Xia spoke softly. His gaze lingered a beat on her lips.
Perhaps it was from just drinking tea—her lips were moist and rosy, soft and plump like blossoming crabapple petals. Where her small teeth had bitten, a flush of vivid color bloomed. And faintly, he thought, there was a trace of sweet pear fragrance.
Was it pear on her lips?
Deep within, a quiet voice stirred: he wanted to taste.
Pei Xia’s eyes darkened. Unaware, his tall frame leaned closer.
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