“A night with fire-trees and silver blossoms, Tonight we revel, sleepless till dawn.”
As the midnight bell tolled, the dark sky blossomed with bursts of dazzling fireworks—purple, red, green, yellow. Fire-trees and silver blossoms, stars scattered everywhere, beauty beyond compare.
“Wow! Fireworks!”
“Look at that one—it’s so beautiful!”
“Here comes another! That one’s huge!”
The city wall was packed tight with townsfolk who had come to watch.
Fortunately, Shen Yujiao and the others had arrived early, and Xie Wuling’s eyes were sharp and legs swift. As soon as they got up on the wall, he spotted a good place and occupied it right away, sprawling there with his long legs like the domineering crab lantern he had once made.
“These fireworks are truly beautiful.”
Standing before the wall, Shen Yujiao tilted her face up toward the dazzling, entrancing skybursts. Around her, the cheers and clapping of the crowd rang in her ears. She couldn’t help but be swept into the joyous atmosphere, her brows and eyes lit with a trace of longing and hope: “I wish that in the new year, all will go smoothly, and all those I care for will be safe.”
Pei Xia and Xie Wuling stood on either side of her. Hearing her soft murmur, they both turned their heads at the same time.
The shifting colors of fireworks fell across her porcelain-pale face—long feathered lashes, straight delicate nose, lips as red as cherries, blooming like a rose. The corners of her mouth curved in the faintest smile, radiant as moonlight through jeweled earrings, lovelier than the moon itself.
Such a night, such beauty, and a fair lady beside them—it was enough to set one’s heart racing.
Pei Xia’s brows flickered, and he lifted his hand.
Before he could draw his wife into his arms, Xie Wuling suddenly cried out: “Jiaojiao, look, that purple one! Doesn’t it look like a peony?”
Shen Yujiao’s attention immediately followed his pointing. Seeing the firework bloom brilliantly in the sky, she bent her eyes in a smile: “It does look a bit like a Wei-purple peony.”
“See, I told you it did,” Xie Wuling chimed in, sneaking a glance at Pei Xia’s suspended hand, and sneering inwardly.
Pei Xia caught that small-mindedness, a shadow flickering across his eyes.
A moment later, he still lifted his hand and drew Shen Yujiao against his shoulder.
The sudden warmth made her start. She looked up in surprise, but Pei Xia said calmly: “The wind is strong. Be careful not to catch cold.”
Shen Yujiao’s lashes trembled lightly. It wasn’t the first time he had held her like this, yet in front of Xie Wuling, such closeness left her flustered and at a loss.
But should she push him away? They were husband and wife—his concern was not improper.
And yet she could feel, unmistakably, the burning gaze from her right. Sometimes fixed on the hand at her shoulder, sometimes on her face—so intense it was as if it might bore a hole straight through her skin.
Shen Yujiao felt like crying but had no tears.
This was probably the most awkward Lantern Festival she had ever spent.
Just as she was so embarrassed she wished she could sink into the ground and flee, Xie Wuling suddenly loosened his dark cloak, ignoring Pei Xia’s hand altogether, and directly draped it over Shen Yujiao:
“Sir Pei speaks truly, the wind atop the city wall is strong—Jiaojiao ought to wear more.”
Xie Wuling’s cloak still carried his body’s warmth, along with a heady fragrance of perfume.
Shen Yujiao clearly felt the hand on her shoulder tighten.
Pei Xia had a touch of cleanliness fastidiousness, and especially disliked overly strong scents—
Just when Shen Yujiao thought Pei Xia would withdraw his hand, unexpectedly, he removed that dark cloak, then pulled her in even closer, almost wrapping her inside his own white fur cloak:
“Sir Xie is far too courteous. This cloak of mine is wide and thick enough to shield my wife from the wind and chill. That cloak of yours, better you keep it to ward off the cold yourself.”
His slender hand gripped the cloak as his eyes turned cool upon Xie Wuling:
“Chang’an is not like Jinling—the wind is far harsher. Sir Xie should beware wind chill seeping into the body, bringing needless troubles.”
Seeing how tightly he held Shen Yujiao, Xie Wuling ground his back teeth, truly wishing he could punch this shameless pale-faced dandy unconscious and toss him down from the wall.
But reason restrained him. He only gave a cold laugh:
“Sir Pei worries too much. I am precisely at the prime of youth, full of blood and vigor. This body of mine—let alone a bit of wind, even if I jumped into the icy river to bathe, I wouldn’t so much as shiver. Unlike you sons of wealthy houses, pampered in silks and brocades, with delicate skin and tender flesh—can’t lift with the shoulder, can’t bear with the hand, take a few steps and already panting. Tsk, what manliness is that? If you ask me, better you worry for yourself. If a gust of wind knocked you over—”
He had been about to say “—and you died of illness, leaving Jiaojiao a widow, just right for me to care for her.” But the words caught in his throat, and he swallowed them back, only saying:
“—if you fell sick, it would only burden Jiaojiao with taking care of you, giving her more trouble.”
How could Pei Xia not hear the meaning beneath his words? His gaze grew colder. With no further interest in holding the cloak, he flicked his sleeve and tossed it straight into Xie Wuling’s arms: “Sir Xie worries too much. With that reminder of yours, I will certainly maintain myself well, practice diligently, and strive to grow old together with Yuniang, sharing the joys of family life into our eighties.”
At that, his brows and eyes relaxed, and he even smiled slightly: “If by then Sir Xie can still walk, I will surely send you an invitation, to come attend Yuniang’s and my eightieth birthday banquet. Yuniang, don’t you agree?”
Suddenly dragged into it, Shen Yujiao: “…”
If she really had to live till eighty listening to these two trading barbs, she might as well jump off the city wall right now.
Complain inwardly as she might, at present facing both men’s direct gazes, she secretly pinched her palm tight and said softly:
“Why speak of such distant things… better wait until we reach eighty before talking of it.”
Then she turned toward Xie Wuling, whose disheveled strands of hair fluttered in the wind: “The night wind is strong. Don’t force yourself—put the cloak on.”
The same words, from Pei Xia’s mouth, were grating.
But from Shen Yujiao’s lips, Xie Wuling arched his brow and smiled: “Alright, I’ll put it on right away.”
Sure enough, Jiaojiao still cared for him.
How could Pei Xia not sense that note of closeness in Shen Yujiao’s tone toward Xie Wuling—
Even though it sounded like vexed reproach, it stirred the heart far more than cold courtesy ever could.
He lowered his eyes in silence, but the arm encircling the woman in his embrace tightened unconsciously.
The grand fireworks display lasted a quarter of an hour. When the brilliant spectacle ended, the crowds on the wall gradually dispersed.
On Lantern Festival night, the curfew was lifted, and the lantern fair went on till dawn. Energetic young people continued on to stroll among the lights, while the elderly and children mostly went home to rest after the fireworks.
Shen Yujiao, now with child, could no longer stay up as she once had. The excitement from the fireworks had passed, and drowsiness swept over her.
Descending the city wall, she was preparing to return home with Pei Xia.
Xie Wuling, seeing her weariness, handed her the crab-shaped lantern and said warmly: “Go back and rest early.”
Shen Yujiao accepted the lantern, forcing herself to perk up and asked him: “You won’t go on strolling?”
“No.” Xie Wuling said, “I’ll go back to rest as well.”
“Mm.”
Shen Yujiao nodded. She meant to say a few more words of reminder, but with Pei Xia at her side, she held back, only saying: “Then once you’re home, rest early too.”
Reading the concern in her eyes, Xie Wuling felt a warmth in his heart and smiled: “Don’t worry. Once I hit the pillow, I sleep like the dead.”
Shen Yujiao couldn’t help but laugh, thinking to herself—she knew that well enough.
Back in Jinling, when he had nothing to do in the day, he could sleep until the sun was high before getting up.
“Yuniang, it’s late.”
Seeing the two of them parting reluctantly in the cold wind, Pei Xia cast a glance at Xie Wuling, his voice cool: “Though Sir Xie has won Commander Huo’s favor, you are still in service at the Huo residence. At night, you should return earlier, lest you invite gossip.”
Xie Wuling’s expression stiffened. How could he not hear the hidden barb in those words?
So what if you have your own residence?
He was only temporarily living under another’s roof—it wasn’t as if he would for life. Once he became an official with silver to spare, he would buy a house in Chang’an too.
And he’d buy it right in Yongning Ward, right next door to the Pei residence—if only to vex that pale-faced dandy to death!
Shen Yujiao, seeing the atmosphere stiffen once more, truly couldn’t bear it. She looked at Xie Wuling and said: “It’s late, let’s part here.”
Then, under the cover of her cloak, she tugged at Pei Xia’s sleeve and raised her face to murmur softly:
“Langjun, let us go home too.”
That soft and gentle “Langjun,” and especially the “us,” eased some of the suffocating heaviness lodged in Pei Xia’s chest.
No matter what tricks this Xie Wuling pulled, Yuniang’s husband was, and would always be, him—Pei Xia.
When the lantern fair dispersed, it was with him that she went home.
How could he allow a fleeting distraction like this to sow discord between them as husband and wife?
Not worth it—and unnecessary.
Beneath the snowy fur cloak, he enclosed his wife’s tender hand tightly in his palm, his expression mild:
“Alright, let’s go home.”
Then, turning with a smile toward Xie Wuling: “Many thanks to Sir Xie for accompanying my wife and me at the lantern fair tonight.”
Xie Wuling’s face darkened three shades. This pale-faced dandy really knew how to gild his own face—who had accompanied him? Bah!
He’d wanted to snap back a few words, but seeing the weariness that could not be concealed between Shen Yujiao’s brows and eyes, in the end he held it back, only saying: “Enough, hurry and take Jiaojiao home so she can rest properly.”
Pei Xia’s smile vanished: “No need for you to say so.”
He turned, arm around Shen Yujiao.
Shen Yujiao let out a quiet breath of relief. She had only taken two steps when she suddenly remembered—Xie Wuling had said he would leave Chang’an once the weather warmed. But would that be in the second month, or the third?
By the third month, she would be due. In these two months, barring accident, she likely wouldn’t be going out again.
Perhaps today was their last meeting…
If so, there were still so many things she wished to tell him.
Her steps slowed unconsciously. Hesitating, she turned her head for a glance.
At the foot of the city wall, amidst the dim lights, that man, masked, still stood in the cold night wind.
When he saw her look back, he broke into a bright smile and waved at her vigorously: “Jiaojiao, go on home.”
Shen Yujiao’s heart trembled. She couldn’t hold it back, and in the end still called out: “Xie Wuling, take good care of yourself!”
The hand clasped around her waist suddenly tightened.
Shen Yujiao knew she shouldn’t have, but she truly couldn’t just leave without a single word—
Even if she and Xie Wuling were destined to have no fate together, she still sincerely wished that he could live safely, well, and long.
Her words of concern drifted away in the wind. Xie Wuling froze for an instant, then his smile grew even brighter.
“I will!”
He waved, shouting into the wind.
His beloved’s reminder gave him boundless spirit. He stood in the biting cold like a victorious general, filled with hot blood, fearless and unafraid.
—
The carriage ride home was unusually quiet.
Shen Yujiao vaguely sensed that Pei Xia might be displeased, yet his motions as he helped her into the carriage remained unhurried, gentle, and attentive.
His expression was as calm as usual, revealing nothing.
This left her unable to tell for a while—was he truly harboring resentment, or was it only her own guilty overthinking?
That one sentence of parting might have been a little abrupt, but it was no more than an ordinary “take care.” When people parted, such words of concern were commonly spoken—surely it could not be considered overstepping or improper?
Sitting in the carriage, she turned the thought over and over, and at last couldn’t hold back, asking softly: “Langjun, are you… in low spirits?”
Pei Xia sat upright by the window, eyes closed as if resting. At her words, he slowly lifted his gaze: “Why do you ask that?”
Shen Yujiao pursed her lips, her voice very soft: “Since getting into the carriage, you haven’t spoken.”
“Only somewhat tired, that’s all.”
Looking at his wife’s delicate face tinged with restraint, Pei Xia’s thoughts slipped unbidden to her expression when she had spoken with Xie Wuling—always relaxed, at ease.
When eating tangyuan, she’d tasted a flavor she liked, and the first person she looked to was Xie Wuling.
Xie Wuling had winked at her: “Tasty, isn’t it?”
And she had nodded vigorously: “Delicious!”
Her tone had been unable to conceal her delight—like a lively, carefree girl.
Even though he and she had been seated side by side, while she and Xie Wuling sat facing each other, in the flow of glances and smiles between them, he had felt like an outsider.
He dimly recalled—wasn’t it at the time of their marriage too, that Yuniang had shown him this same girlish innocence and charm?
In the mornings, waking, she would cling to his waist in coquettish plea: “Langjun, will you stay with me a while longer?”
She had embroidered purses and shoes for him, made cakes and tonic soups, and always looked for excuses to remain by his side—even if only to sit nearby, watching him read and write.
At the time, he had thought: this little wife of his must be especially clingy only because she had left Chang’an, left her natal home.
He pitied her loneliness, yet could not indulge himself, sinking into tender sentiment.
So he had solemnly told her: “You need not fear. Since you have married me, you are forever the Madam of the Pei clan—none can change that. And I will never fail you.”
He had given her status and respect, and would give her legitimate sons and heirs, ensuring her seat as his principal wife.
But now, suddenly, he felt it wasn’t enough.
Not only name and heirs—there was something else.
In the dim candlelight of the carriage, Pei Xia gazed at Shen Yujiao’s luminous face. His obscure eyes slowly drifted downward from her dark brows and eyes, until they settled on those full, rosy lips—and lingered.
Sensing the weight of that gaze, Shen Yujiao called in slight confusion: “Langjun?”
Pei Xia was silent a moment. Then he lifted his hand toward her: “Yuniang, come closer.”
Shen Yujiao was startled. Though she didn’t quite understand, she shifted toward him.
The carriage was warmed by a brazier, and she cradled a handwarmer in her arms. As soon as her body leaned against his side, suddenly a long arm swept before her.
Before she could react, she was gathered wholly into the man’s warm chest. She tried to rise, but her belly was heavy—after two futile struggles, she yielded, sinking back into that sandalwood-scented embrace.
Her long, dark lashes trembled lightly. She tilted her face up, confused and uneasy: “Langjun, you this… mm!”
The rest of her words were completely sealed by a warm, soft touch.
Shen Yujiao froze, her mind flashing white before sinking into a blank haze.
The man’s broad palm held the back of her head firmly in place, the high bridge of his nose pressed against her cheek, his hot breath spilling across her skin, stirring a shiver of tingling numbness.
Unlike the simple brush of lips in the past, this time his tongue pried open her teeth. Though clumsy, Shen Yujiao, stunned and defenseless, parted her lips without resistance.
The next instant, his cool fragrance mixed with heat surged into her mouth. He caught her soft little tongue, tangling without pattern, yet with an unusual greed, sweeping every inch of her lips and teeth as though to drink down every drop of her sweetness.
Shen Yujiao’s breathing spun out of control.
She had never shared such a kiss with Pei Xia.
So a kiss could be this intimate, this burning—tongues entwining, moist and hot—nearly as shameful as the closeness of coupling itself.
Her mind turned hazy, her heart hammering as if it would burst through her chest. When her tongue was sucked until it tingled numb, and her belly gave a sudden jump, she snapped back to herself, pushing against his chest: “Hus… husband, don’t…”
Pei Xia stilled, loosening her lips slightly. His low, husky voice carried a trace of roughness: “Why?”
“My belly…” Shen Yujiao’s lashes trembled. “The child is moving.”
His kiss had come so suddenly, so hot and fierce, it startled not only the child—but her as well.
Hearing this, clarity flickered in his deep gaze.
The hand braced at her front slowly shifted down to rest against her swollen belly. Through the padded winter clothes, his brows knit lightly: “Does it hurt?”
“No, just a kick.”
Shen Yujiao’s cheeks burned red. She thought the child must have sensed it, knowing their parents were doing something unspeakable, and was reminding them not to be too reckless.
“Langjun, let me up first.”
Her voice, still softened from the kiss, carried an unmeant allure.
Pei Xia lowered his eyes. In the dim light slanting from the carriage wall, he saw her dark eyes, hazed with mist from the kiss, and her lips—damp and reddened, more vivid than any lip rouge could ever paint.
Recalling the uncontrollable pleasure of their entwined tongues, his gaze darkened further.
Two long fingers brushed her lips. Seeing her startled eyes, his husky voice murmured: “A little swollen.”
Shen Yujiao froze, then her cheeks flamed as if on fire.
How could he say such words so calmly.
She instinctively turned her face away, but he said, “Don’t move.”
His slender fingertips stroked the corner of her lips, and she saw clearly the faint, sticky sheen of moisture.
A wave of shame surged over her. Ignoring the weight of her belly, she struggled to sit up.
“In such a hurry?”
Pei Xia frowned, but still supported her waist, helping her sit upright: “Slowly, mind your back.”
Once seated, Shen Yujiao wanted nothing more than to shrink into the corner of the carriage. But the man looked at her with composed calm: “What’s wrong?”
His tone was as mild and even as always.
If not for the lingering shadow of dark desire in his eyes, Shen Yujiao might have thought she had dreamed it all.
How could he act so unruffled, asking her so casually what was wrong.
Wasn’t that supposed to be her question?
Suddenly kissing her—here in the carriage—so deep, so reckless…
Her tongue still tingled faintly, her mouth still filled with his breath.
Her heart stumbled and raced, and she looked at him in shy anger and confusion: “Just now… just now you…”
“Yes, I kissed you,” Pei Xia said.
Shen Yujiao’s brows twitched, startled at his bluntness.
Pei Xia smoothed his sleeve, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on her, his cool voice low and hoarse: “Is it not allowed?”
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