From Jiangzhou, Xie Wuling’s party boarded a boat and pressed on day and night, until at last, on New Year’s Eve, they reached Chang’an.
To keep from worrying the old Momo of Marquis Zhennan’s household and the various madams, before leaving the relay station they all changed into brand-new attire.
The young Huo Shizi was dressed in a newly tailored crimson brocade robe, his black hair bound upright with a jade coronet, a leather belt at his waist, deerskin boots on his feet, and about his neck a collar with a twin-blessing golden lock pendant. Dressed so, with red lips and white teeth, refined and genteel, he was every bit the picture of noble wealth and festivity.
Xie Wuling caught sight of him and teased Yue Hong at his side: “Our young lord in a crimson robe looks truly handsome—at first glance, almost like a little girl.”
Before Yue Hong could answer, Huo Yunchang, walking ahead, turned his head and shot him a fierce glare: “You’re the little girl! Your whole family are little girls!”
Xie Wuling was choked speechless.
He knew the boy was somewhat proud and headstrong, but all along the journey, through far worse banter, he hadn’t seen him flare up. Why was he suddenly so furious now?
Thinking it over, Xie Wuling finally cupped his fists to the “little tutor” who had been lecturing him on military strategy all along the way. “Pray, young lord, don’t be angry. Your servant only meant to praise your good looks.”
Huo Yunchang snorted coldly. “I’m a man—what use have I for good looks? On the battlefield, one relies on brains and fists. A pretty face is worth sh*t.”
Xie Wuling: “…”
To drive the little lord to cursing—now that was rare.
Could it be that at this age, boys were especially sensitive, disliking any comparison to girls?
Before he could say more, Huo Yunchang looked him up and down, then sneered: “And you talk of me? Dressed as you are—put a false wig on your head, and you’d be the very image of a beauty to shame moon and flower.”
Today, not only the young shizi wore new clothes, the guards too were dressed in newly cut dark-red lined robes. Though plainer, lacking the young master’s gold and brocade, they were sturdy cotton, warm and serviceable.
Yet the guards, tall and robust, all martial men, carried a vigor quite unlike common folk. Xie Wuling, with his lofty height, long limbs, and upright bearing, wore the same dark-red robe in a way more commanding than the rest. Coupled with his strikingly bold features, narrow ink-dark eyes and lips red as cinnabar, the crimson all the more set off his rakish, unrestrained air.
“You’d best stick close to me in Chang’an, Guard Xie,” Huo Yunchang drawled, the corners of his lips quirking. “There are plenty of nobles here fond of handsome men. If someone should snatch you up—you might as well stay in Chang’an and make your fortune.”
Xie Wuling: “…”
The brat was insufferable.
“See this fist?” He clenched his hand and punched at the air, the whoosh cutting sharp through the wind. “Whichever fool dares to come bother me, I’ll beat him till even his own mother won’t recognize him!”
Huo Yunzhang glanced at that massive, power-filled fist, then lowered his eyes to his own delicate, weak little fist. A flicker of envy rose in his gaze, though he didn’t show it on his face, only snorted: “Too lazy to waste words with you, let’s get on the road already!”
At the side, Yue Hong saw that the “master and disciple” who had been bickering the whole way finally quieted down, and hurriedly chimed in: “Yes, yes, yes, we’ll set out right away, can’t let the old madam at the estate wait too long!”
Once Huo Yunzhang was on the carriage, Xie Wuling and Yue Hong rode side by side, following behind the carriage with the rest of the elite guards and servants.
The old madam of Marquis Zhennan’s household, longing eagerly for her grandson, had already sent the steward with men to meet them at Ba Bridge before they even entered the city.
Xie Wuling looked at the boundless white snow and the desolate wilds around them, and suddenly asked Yue Hong: “So this is Ba Bridge?”
Yue Hong, a guard of the Huo family who had been to Chang’an before, nodded at the question: “Yes, this is Ba Bridge. Why?”
“Nothing.” Xie Wuling muttered. It just wasn’t what he had imagined.
Jiaojiao had told him of Ba Bridge—year after year, willows green and misty, fluttering like smoke and catkins, crowds of travelers filling the scene.
It must be the season, he thought. In this bitter cold, only a ghost would want to come here.
Lost in these thoughts, the column pressed onward.
An hour later, the grand and majestic walls of Chang’an came into view. On the city gate tower, the bold, heavy strokes of the two characters “Chang’an” struck deep into Xie Wuling’s heart.
This was Xie Wuling’s first time coming to Chang’an.
Before meeting Shen Yujiao, he had little interest in it. He only knew it as the Son of Heaven’s seat, the capital of Great Liang. No matter how prosperous, wealthy, or picturesque, it had nothing to do with him.
But now, it was different.
Chang’an was not only a city—it was the place where his Jiaojiao had grown up.
This stretch of road he now rode might have been walked by Jiaojiao too.
That brick, that tree, that wine flag he saw now—Jiaojiao might have gazed upon them as well.
Those food stalls, silk shops, rouge counters he passed by—Jiaojiao might have visited them all.
Because of Shen Yujiao, this city called Chang’an became something else entirely in Xie Wuling’s heart.
Just thinking that he and Jiaojiao were in the same city now, that he might turn a corner and see her—his heart pounded uncontrollably.
Yue Hong noticed his excitement upon entering the city, and assumed he was simply awestruck by the capital’s grandeur. Laughing warmly, he said: “Once we’ve delivered the young shizi back to the Marquis’ estate, we’ll get some rest. I’ll take you around Chang’an to sightsee then, eh?”
“That’d be splendid.” Xie Wuling pulled his reins, studying the neatly laid out, bustling city while asking Yue Hong about the various great households of Chang’an.
Yue Hong, having long been stationed in Ningzhou, only knew the basics, but told Xie Wuling what he could.
Listening to Yue Hong list duke, prince, and marquis one after another, Xie Wuling thought to himself: living under the Son of Heaven’s feet is indeed different. Back in their Jinling, even a prefect was already a lofty figure. Yet that Prefect Cui—if placed in Chang’an—wouldn’t even know where he ranked.
He suddenly remembered how in August, he had landed a petty constable’s post at the county office, showing off proudly in front of Jiaojiao, boasting he’d make her an official’s wife—
Thinking of it now, he was truly like a frog at the bottom of a well, ridiculous and laughable.
And yet, Jiaojiao, who had seen the wider world, had not looked down on him at all. Instead, she had straightened his robe with her own hands, saying she believed he would make a fine constable.
His Jiaojiao—how could she be so good?
A warmth filled his heart, and even the biting cold winds of Chang’an seemed softened by her presence.
By the time the carriage reached Marquis Zhennan’s estate, it was already late afternoon.
Looking at the lofty, splendid walls, the double doors painted red with golden studs, and the pair of imposing stone lions at the gate, Xie Wuling sighed inwardly—such was the grandeur of a noble’s household.
Entering the estate, they passed long corridors, carved balustrades and tiled eaves, strange rocks and exotic flowers—like stepping into another world.
He had thought the Prefect’s residence was spacious and grand enough, but this Marquis’ estate was several times larger.
Yet Yue Hong said to him: “This is nothing. If you ever step into Duke Ying’s estate—that’s the true den of wealth. They say even the paving stones are jade, the potted plants inlaid with gold and silver filigree, and at night they don’t use candles but light the place with pearls the size of chicken eggs!”
Jade bricks and pearl lamps?
Xie Wuling raised his brows. Such wasteful extravagance—this Duke Ying didn’t sound like any good man.
Once Huo Yunzhang entered the estate, he went straight to the main hall to reunite with family. As for Xie Wuling and the other guards, their duty done, the steward arranged quarters for them in the guards’ quarters.
The Huo clan was a family of high pedigree, with an ancestral teaching to “cherish soldiers like sons.” Thus, the household treated their personal guards generously—two men to a room, clean bedding, hot water ready, tea and cakes provided.
The steward in charge of their lodging also said: “Today is New Year’s Eve. To celebrate the family reunion, the old madam has invited an opera troupe to perform in the estate. She also said that the young shizi’s safe return is thanks to the loyal escort of you men. So she’s set two extra banquet tables, and invites all of you to eat and watch the play tonight, to welcome the new year together.”
At these words, the guards cheered, praising the old madam’s benevolence.
When the steward finished explaining and was about to leave, Xie Wuling caught up with him at the door, cupping his fists with a smile: “Might I ask, elder brother—do you know where the Pei estate is?”
From the moment this batch of guards entered the estate, the steward had already noticed that strikingly handsome young guard, and couldn’t help thinking: are the standards for guards this high nowadays? Now, seeing the fine-looking man take the initiative to speak with him, the steward’s attitude grew polite: “There are several Pei estates in Chang’an—do you know which one you’re asking about?”
Xie Wuling said: “Pei Xia, the one who marched with the army to suppress the Huainan rebellion.”
“You mean the Pei clan heir’s estate.” The steward suddenly understood, thought for a moment, then said: “Our household doesn’t have much contact with theirs, so I’m not clear on the exact location. I only know it’s in Yongning Ward, near the East Market.”
“Yongning Ward.” Xie Wuling murmured, then asked: “Is it far from here?”
“Not far at all—just two wards away from ours.”
“Much obliged, elder brother.” Xie Wuling cupped his hands. “I’ll ask around once I get there.”
Watching that tall back hurrying away, the steward suddenly remembered something and called after him: “Little brother, if you go out, be sure to return before dark. If you’re caught outside when the curfew falls, you won’t be able to get back in!”
Xie Wuling didn’t turn his head, only lifted a hand in thanks: “Got it, thanks for the reminder!”
Still rather courteous. The steward shook his head with a small smile, walked a few steps, then belatedly wondered—why would a marquis’s personal guard be heading to the Pei estate?
—
Winter days were short, and by afternoon the sky was already dim. Since it was New Year’s Eve, a day for family reunions, the shops, taverns, and stalls along the streets closed even earlier than usual. Before it was even dusk, the streets were deserted and cold, the only cheer coming from red lanterns hung at doors and freshly pasted couplets.
In the dim light, a carriage with crimson wheels and a jeweled canopy slowly entered Yongning Ward.
Hearing the patter of snow against the window, Shen Yujiao, lounging lazily in the carriage with a bronze hand-warmer, frowned: “It’s snowing again?”
Snow was beautiful, yes, but troublesome. Cold aside, ice made the ground slick. Pregnant as she was, going out was already inconvenient—snow only made it worse. Tomorrow she would have to accompany Pei Xia to pay New Year visits to his clan uncles, then on the second day visit her maternal grandparents and uncles at the Li family, as well as her aunt’s household, the Pei clan aunts…
Luckily, they hadn’t been in Chang’an long, so there were only these few relatives for now. In time, as they settled and their circle grew, there would be even more to attend to.
Hearing her small complaint, Pei Xia pushed the window open and glanced outside, his expression calm: “Just light snow. It’ll stop soon.”
“Don’t know if it will keep snowing tonight,” Shen Yujiao said. “We still have to stay up for New Year’s Eve.”
They were just returning from the Li estate. Her grandfather, Li Conghe, had wanted the two younger ones to remain for the New Year’s dinner, but Shen Yujiao, mindful that she was now a daughter-in-law of the Pei clan and mistress of her own household with Pei Xia, couldn’t very well spend New Year at her maternal home—so they had taken the carriage back.
“For the vigil tonight, if you grow sleepy, lean on me and rest a while,” Pei Xia said. “When midnight comes, I’ll wake you so we can light the firecrackers together.”
At this, Shen Yujiao blushed faintly and smiled: “I’ll try to hold on—I shouldn’t be that sleepy.”
Pei Xia neither agreed nor disagreed.
Before long, the carriage stopped at the gates of the Pei estate.
Pei Xia got down first, took the umbrella from a servant, and opened it. Snowflakes pattered against the canopy with a soft hiss.
With one hand holding the umbrella, he extended the other into the carriage: “The wind’s strong—fasten your cloak tightly before you come down.”
“All right.” Shen Yujiao pulled her cloak around herself, put on her furry hood so only her delicate pale face showed, then slipped her hand into Pei Xia’s long, steady palm.
His hand was warm and firm as he helped her down, then, by habit, wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her close.
She knew he was worried she might slip, especially now that her belly had grown heavy.
“Thank you, Langjun,” she said softly. The man, however, did not reply.
Startled, Shen Yujiao lifted her eyes—only to see Pei Xia with his face turned aside, looking elsewhere.
Following his gaze, she saw only a white wall piled with snow, and asked in puzzlement: “Langjun, what are you looking at?”
Pei Xia slowly drew back his gaze: “Nothing.”
“Oh.” Shen Yujiao said, “Then let’s go in—the wind stings the face.”
Seeing her nose tip tinged red, Pei Xia tightened his arm around her waist. “Let’s go.”
The two mounted the steps side by side, chatting idly about the New Year’s dinner menu.
Just as they were about to step over the threshold, Shen Yujiao suddenly halted.
Pei Xia lowered his eyes: “What is it?”
Why did it feel as though someone was watching them from behind?
Shen Yujiao glanced back, but the umbrella blocked her view.
“Nothing,” she murmured.
But once they passed through the gate, as the umbrella shifted aside, she couldn’t resist casting another look back.
And in the dim snowfall, beyond that snow-covered wall, she glimpsed the hem of a red robe flash past.
So quick it seemed almost a trick of the eye.
Surely just some passerby.
—
At the last moment before the ward gates closed, Xie Wuling returned to Marquis Zhennan’s estate.
The sky was already black. The mansion was lit with great red lanterns, ablaze with festive light. The young heir had come home, and the servants bustled about preparing the New Year’s feast, faces bright with joy at the holiday reunion.
From a distance, Yue Hong spotted that tall figure striding out of the twilight and hurried forward: “Brother Xie, where did you go just now? I searched this courtyard and couldn’t find you anywhere. Over at the west hall the opera has already started. Old Qin has already taken the others there. If you’d been a moment later, I’d have gone over too.”
Walking closer and seeing his dejected look, Yue Hong was startled: “You… what happened to you?”
From the time they left Ningzhou, even when they fought bandits to exhaustion, drenched in blood, this fellow had always been brimming with fighting spirit, laughing and joking. How was it that after just a short while out of sight, he’d wilted like an eggplant struck by frost?
Xie Wuling forced a faint curve onto his thin lips: “I’m fine.”
“This is what you call fine? What’s going on, who bullied you? Tell your brother, I’ll stand up for you!”
“Really, it’s nothing.”
Xie Wuling said, “Just now when I came in, I tripped and fell. Got a bit hurt.”
Yue Hong: “…”
Why did he not believe that at all?
But seeing him sullen and silent, he didn’t press further, only slung an arm around his shoulder: “Alright, a grown man, is one fall such a big deal? If the young master knew, he’d definitely laugh at you. Come on, it’s New Year’s Eve—let’s drink and eat meat, cheer up!”
Xie Wuling gave a distracted “mm,” following Yue Hong toward the west hall.
The New Year’s Eve banquet was especially lively. With the family’s precious only grandson home, Old Madam Huo was beaming from ear to ear, generous with her rewards; not only did the troupe on stage receive gifts, but even Xie Wuling and the two tables of guards each received a thick red New Year’s envelope.
Yue Hong weighed the packet in his sleeve, his smile growing brighter, whispering to Xie Wuling: “Tomorrow’s the first day of the new year, there’ll surely be more rewards. Isn’t this job better than you staying in the army over New Year’s?”
Xie Wuling took the envelope, shoved it into his robe without even looking, and kept drinking.
The marquisate’s wine was clearly finer than any he’d ever had before, yet the more he drank, the more bitter his throat became.
His eyes fixed on the ornate stage, where the performers were singing a scholar-and-lady play—
A learned young scholar meets a delicate maiden in her boudoir, the two play qin together under the moon, poems and verses exchanged, love brimming between them, a perfect match made in heaven.
Just like the pair he had seen at dusk before the gates of the Pei residence.
The person he longed for day and night, the one he kept at the very tip of his heart, stood in the wind and snow in a white cloak—held tightly in another man’s arms.
The two of them were like figures carved from jade and glass.
Well-matched in family and status, affectionate and in love, a pairing beyond compare.
And he, skulking behind a corner wall, like some petty thief coveting others’ happiness, unfit for light, unfit for the stage.
But she was clearly his wife.
He had tied the red silk and ridden his horse to welcome her into the bridal sedan before the bustling temple in Jinling; passersby on both sides had laughed and congratulated him.
They had offered incense before the Earth God, bowed to heaven and earth before their elders, matchmaker, family, and friends. He had embroidered a red bridal veil with mandarin ducks playing in the water; she had sewn him a hair-binding pouch with twin lotus in bloom.
Everyone had blessed them—blessed them to be of one heart forever, to grow old together.
Just a little bit more, only a little bit more—
A warm bed with wife and children, husband and wife side by side to old age.
His wife, his home—gone in a single night.
“Why…” With his broad-knuckled hand gripping the wine bowl tight, Xie Wuling’s eyes reddened, his hoarse voice whispering: “Why.”
Why must the scholar and maiden belong together?
Why should power and influence be able to steal away his wife?
Why?
He refused to accept it.
“Brother Xie, what are you muttering?” Yue Hong leaned in.
Others at the table laughed: “So soon drunk already?”
“Can’t hold his liquor, can he?”
“Who says I can’t?” Xie Wuling slapped the table, his handsome face flushed with drink: “I can hold plenty!”
“Alright, alright, you can! Then keep drinking!”
“Anyway, there’s nothing tomorrow. Tonight we don’t stop till we’re drunk.”
Cups clashed, bowls filled again and again, drinking without end.
On stage, the scholar-and-lady play ended, replaced with a martial piece of battlefield killing—the martial actor flipping eighteen somersaults in one breath, winning thunderous applause.
The New Year’s Eve banquet stayed lively until deep in the night. Yue Hong hauled the dead-drunk Xie Wuling back to the guard quarters.
“Ah, how’d you drink so much? Can’t even keep vigil now,” Yue Hong shook his head.
Xie Wuling sprawled across the bed, face flushed, eyes half-closed, murmuring: “Jiaojiao…”
“What ‘jiao’?” Yue Hong bent down.
“Jiaojiao…” Hugging his pillow, Xie Wuling rubbed his face against it, slurring, “Jiaojiao, don’t forget…”
Well then, another one driven mad with longing for his wife.
“You—if you miss your wife so much, why join the army at all? Wouldn’t staying in Jinling with wife and child be better?” Yue Hong muttered, baffled.
“My wife… my wife…”
Xie Wuling turned over, forcing his eyes open to stare at the dark ceiling: “I promised her I’d make something of myself, become a great general…”
“Heh, that’s quite the demand from your wife. Don’t tell me she’s the daughter of the Great Chancellor’s house, insisting you must be a great general.”
“Yes… my wife is the Great Chancellor’s daughter…” Xie Wuling hiccupped, pressing the pouch at his chest, mumbling: “You don’t know… she’s wonderful… she’s the best wife in all the world…”
“Truly drunk and muddle-headed.”
Yue Hong rolled his eyes, got up, and tugged a quilt over him: “Rest well. I’ll go to the front yard to keep vigil and set off firecrackers.”
When the door closed, the room quickly fell silent.
On the table, a single oil lamp glowed faintly, its dim yellow light spilling quietly over the long couch against the wall, and over the tall figure lying on his side atop it.
Long fingers clutched tightly at that bright red pouch, pressed against his lips, carefully, reverently.
That light kiss falling upon his lips at parting—like a ray of light in the dark—had illuminated his long, lonely road.
When fighting bandits, he too had feared death. Through this arduous journey, he too had feared weariness.
But more than that, he feared—feared above all—
“Jiaojiao, don’t forget me.”
The crackle of New Year’s firewood, the fragrance of spiced wine in the air.
Outside the window, wind and snow lashed together, while within the rear courtyard the inner room was warm.
Shen Yujiao leaned by the couch, waiting for midnight to arrive, leafing once again through the letters that had come from home this past year.
Though the family could not be reunited, seeing the familiar handwriting and those lines of earnest greetings was a small comfort.
Besides the letters from Lingnan, there were two from Jinling, but the Jinling letters spoke only of safety and daily matters, not a single word about that person.
Shen Yujiao, of course, understood—she was never supposed to have further entanglements with him.
Only, when the letter said “all is well,” she could not help but wonder: did that “all” include Xie Wuling?
Still, since the child was safe, then he too must be safe and sound.
At this hour, he was probably carving a roast duck, sipping a little wine, celebrating the new year peacefully in that small courtyard.
She wondered, had snow fallen in Jinling this year?
“What are you thinking?”
A sudden brush of coolness at the corner of her eye—Shen Yujiao lifted her gaze in a daze, just in time to see Pei Xia withdraw his hand, pinching at the dampness between his fingers, brows faintly furrowed: “Crying?”
“Ah?” Shen Yujiao blinked, tucking at her eye corner. “I suppose reading letters too long made my eyes a little tired.”
Pei Xia glanced at the letter by her hand, its paper the shade of Jinling correspondence.
His gaze shifted slightly. He reached to gather up the letters: “If you’re tired, then don’t read anymore.”
He pushed open half the window: “Look into the distance instead—it’ll ease your eyes.”
Shen Yujiao softly answered “mm,” and looked outside.
In the courtyard, as per custom, a bonfire burned, the wood glowing red-hot. Firelight illuminated the whole yard, and the plum tree by the wall.
Shen Yujiao exclaimed in surprise: “That plum tree has bloomed.”
Following her voice, Pei Xia looked, and indeed—amid the snowdrifts and firelight, on those sturdy branches, a small red plum blossom had opened.
“This morning it hadn’t bloomed yet—who would have thought it would quietly open at midnight.” Shen Yujiao’s brows and eyes curved into a smile. “Red plum heralds joy—such a fine omen.”
Seeing her happy, Pei Xia’s expression softened.
But when his eyes landed on that red plum, he could not help recalling the set of velvet flowers he had once bought in Jinling, depicting the four seasons—
Among them, a sprig of red plum, crafted lifelike.
When he bought it, he had thought how perfect it would be for Shen Yujiao to wear in winter, fitting the season, with such auspicious meaning.
Yet that set of velvet flowers he had never given to her, instead leaving it tucked away in his old study in Luoyang.
He did not wish her to think of anything tied to Jinling again—not even a velvet blossom from Jinling.
As for that child…
Sooner or later, he too must be brought back.
He had never asked about her time in Jinling with that street ruffian. Asking held no meaning.
In the end, she was now at his side, still his wife.
And time, in its course, would help her slowly forget everything of Jinling…
“Yuniang.”
“Mm?” Shen Yujiao turned.
The man, cold and clear as jade, walked to her side, gently drawing her shoulder into his arm: “Once this busy spell is over it will be the Lantern Festival. When the time comes, shall we go see the lanterns together?”
The Chang’an Lantern Festival, grand and lively, the most splendid event of the year.
Shen Yujiao’s eyes curved in delight, and she gladly agreed: “Yes.”
As her voice fell, the sound of firecrackers came from afar, and in the courtyard the maids and servants burst into cheer: “The new year is here, the new year is here!”
With firecrackers cracking, one year turned over; bamboo tubes tossed into the flames burst with crackles and pops, the courtyard alive with noise.
Shen Yujiao covered her ears and said to Pei Xia: “Langjun, a happy new year to you. May your blessings grow with each day, and may your years be without end.”
In the fire’s glow, Pei Xia looked at his wife’s radiant smile. His broad brows slowly curved into a gentle smile of his own: “A happy new year to you, my lady. May your year be safe and sound, free of all worry.”
And may heaven and earth grant joy—that every year, every morning and night, be like this night.
