Not allowed?
He was her husband—of course it was.
Yet Shen Yujiao felt shaken. Was this still the Pei Shouzhen who was ascetic, aloof from women?
Such a side of him felt so strange.
“Why no reply?”
Pei Xia smoothed the folds of his robe. Though his voice was gentle, his narrow eyes were sharp as blades of ice. “Or—is it not allowed?”
Shen Yujiao’s breath caught. Her lips moved faintly: “Hus… husband jests.”
“Then it is allowed.”
Like snow melting from a cold mountain, a trace of spring warmth spread in his eyes. He held her hand—then paused suddenly: “So cold?”
“It’s alright.”
“Your hand is trembling.” He wrapped it firmly in his palm, speaking softly, reassuringly: “We’ll be home soon.”
Shen Yujiao still kept her head lowered, only answering faintly.
Pei Xia is different now, she thought.
If he had drunk tonight, she could excuse it as drunkenness.
But he hadn’t touched a drop. If she must find a reason for this strangeness— it could only be because of Xie Wuling—
He really still minded after all.
And of course—he was only human. No matter how broad-minded, how calm and magnanimous a gentleman might be, to see his own wife together with another man, he would inevitably feel a thorn in his heart.
The couple returned to the manor in silence. That night, once they had lain down beneath the warm scented canopy, Shen Yujiao turned over and, taking the initiative, reached for Pei Xia’s hand.
First she hooked her pinky lightly on the back of his hand. Seeing he did not pull away, she clasped his whole hand.
“Langjun.” She called softly, her gentle voice carrying a trace of coaxing.
The darkness within the canopy was silent for a moment before the man’s deep voice sounded: “Weren’t you sleepy?”
“I am sleepy,” Shen Yujiao said.
“Then sleep,” Pei Xia said.
Shen Yujiao was quiet for a few breaths, then edged closer: “Langjun truly isn’t upset?”
“…”
His thick lashes lowered. After a long while, Pei Xia turned to gather his conciliatory wife into his arms: “Tonight’s matter was purely an accident. Though I dislike you having more dealings with him, I also know he has indeed shown you kindness. Meeting on the street, exchanging a few words—that is only natural.”
After a pause, his broad hand guided hers, placing it over her swollen belly: “In any case, he is but a passerby. But you and I, and our child—we are a family.”
For the sake of an irrelevant outsider, for husband and wife to fall out—it was not worth it.
Pei Xia had always acted with calm steadiness. He would never allow himself to be ruled by emotion; that could only lead to errors in judgment and foolish deeds.
Shen Yujiao also understood the division in his words.
Even though tonight the three of them had strolled together, watched lanterns and fireworks together—once the bustle faded, boundaries still had to be drawn, clear and distinct.
“I understand,” she whispered.
“Mhm. Yuniang has always been… perceptive and clear.”
Pei Xia lowered his head, his thin lips brushing the softness of her hairline: “It’s late. Sleep.”
Perceptive and clear?
Shen Yujiao closed her eyes, but scenes of the night replayed in her mind—eating sweet dumplings together at a street stall, standing atop the city wall to watch the fireworks, and then, without realizing, she saw again Xie Wuling in his scarlet robes, standing at the edge of the lights, waving to her.
That man—each time she saw him, he seemed brimming with endless energy.
Even though he was the one left behind, whenever she turned back, he was always there, smiling at her.
Her eyes grew damp. She bit her lip hard, steadying her breath so as not to give herself away.
Yet in her heart welled a long, heavy sigh. Xie Wuling… I’m sorry.
She thought, in this lifetime she might never be able to repay that wholehearted devotion of his.
The chamber sank into quiet. Outside, the full moon hung high, its clear light spilling over the prosperous city of Chang’an.
In this moment, ten thousand homes were lit, the land and rivers at peace.
—
The next afternoon, at the Eldest Princess’s residence.
After a night of feasting without rest, Princess Jinhua draped in a crimson-purple silk robe lounged lazily on a beauty couch. Behind her, one favored boy toy kneaded her shoulders; another knelt by her legs, staining her nails with balsam juice; a third, powdered and rouged in pink, leaned close at her side feeding her peeled mandarin segments.
When her personal guard reported, the princess brushed aside the orange slice held to her lips, her beautiful eyes narrowing: “Last night at the Lantern Festival, he went alone to stroll with Lord Pei Shouzhen and his wife?”
The guard bowed. “I saw it with my own eyes, Your Highness. It is absolutely true.”
“How very strange.” The princess frowned. “That boy, just a minor guard from Marquis Zhennan’s household—how would he come to know the heir of the Pei clan?”
After pondering, she gave her order: “You have three days to find out the truth of their connection. If not, don’t bother coming back.”
The guard stiffened, hastily bowing deeper: “Yes, this subordinate will investigate at once.”
Once the guard withdrew, the pink-clad boy toy who had been feeding her spoke with a touch of jealousy, leaning closer: “Just how handsome is that Xie Wuling, that Your Highness would care so much?”
“What now?” The princess’s eyes curved with a smile, her lacquer-red fingers hooking up his chin. “Are you jealous?”
The boy turned his face aside with a teasing air: “This servant wouldn’t dare.”
“You had better not dare.”
Her hand suddenly tightened, her sharp nails slicing three red streaks across his pale face. Watching his panicked expression, she burst out laughing with great delight: “Just you worthless things, daring to show jealousy before me? You think you’re worthy?”
As the three boy toys trembled on their knees, her strange laughter suddenly cut off. She looked at the scratches on the pink-clad one’s face, and her expression softened with feigned tenderness: “Oh, Snow Slave, did I hurt you?”
Snow Slave had not seen the princess so manic in a long time. His face turned paper-white, but he forced a smile: “Thank you for Your Highness’s concern. It doesn’t hurt, not at all.”
The princess tilted up his chin again, her gaze fixed on his well-shaped lips, murmuring dreamily: “How could it not hurt? Of course it hurts…”
And without giving him time to react, she bent down and pressed her lips to his.
Snow Slave froze.
When he gathered himself, he rose up, seizing the lead instead, and pressed her down, his voice low as he murmured: “Little sister Jinhua.”
On the couch, spring heat overflowed. The other two boy toys did not dare leave; they only bowed with foreheads to the floor, pretending not to see the carnal scene.
The princess had many favorites in her residence, but among them the “Four Slaves of Wind, Flower, Moon, and Snow” enjoyed her deepest favor. She loved Wind Slave’s physique, Flower Slave’s nose, Moon Slave’s side profile, and Snow Slave’s lips—
The male favorites speculated in private that the Princess likely still thought of her deceased husband, the late Princess Consort Guo.
It was said that back then, the Guo family was implicated in treason. Though the Eldest Princess had been reluctant, she still put righteousness before family, gathering evidence of the Guo family’s rebellion and personally killing Princess Consort Guo. Precisely because of this righteousness, the present Emperor was especially indulgent toward her.
Now it was said the Eldest Princess had taken one look and set her heart on the shizi of the Huo family’s personal guard, showing such unusual interest. No one knew—was it that this bodyguard resembled Princess Consort Guo in some way?
Within three days, the guard returned with a few threads linking Xie Wuling to the Pei couple.
The Eldest Princess had been born in the harem—what schemes had she not seen before? At the mention of “Jinling,” her mind turned over the matter, and she had already guessed most of it.
Standing at the window, gazing at the snow piled under the corridor for a long time, she lowered her head, turned the bejeweled bracelet on her wrist, and smiled lightly as she ordered: “Take my visiting post and invite my good niece, Shouan, over for a talk.”
—
After the Lantern Festival, Shen Yujiao no longer left the residence.
Firstly, it was freezing cold, the ice not yet melted, and since no households were hosting banquets, there was no need to go out.
Secondly, come the second month, her belly was already nine months along, and it was all too easy for her to tire. Qiao Momo would not allow her to go out again.
Her aunt, Madam Song, had found her three midwives. After both Shen Yujiao and Qiao Momo assessed them, they finally kept one, Chen Pozi—
Not only was this woman honest and steady, with rich birthing experience, but also Shen Yujiao’s sister-in-law Madam Xu had given birth to little niece Ah Yu, and her maternal cousin had given birth to a son—all by her hand.
For such a major matter as childbirth, having someone familiar was more reassuring.
Unexpectedly, Chen Pozi had not even been in the residence for three days before Consort Xian also sent a midwife.
That woman’s surname was Huang, about the same age as Chen Pozi, but her birthing record far outshone Chen’s. After all, she was a palace midwife. The ones who came through her hands were either princes and princesses, or heirs and young ladies of dukedoms; even the lowest were children of marquis households.
The eunuch sent with her relayed Consort Xian’s message: “Her Highness Consort Xian knows that Madam Pei is due soon, and has specially dispatched Huang Momo to care for you during your confinement and delivery. Her Highness also says Huang Momo is seasoned and skilled—if she delivers you, you may set your heart at ease. Her Highness has already prepared a congratulatory gift, awaiting only your good news.”
Even if their “mother–daughter” bond was but for show, Consort Xian’s thoughtfulness still moved Shen Yujiao deeply.
Since the palace had sent a midwife, the matters of care and delivery naturally fell fully under Huang Momo.
Shen Yujiao had originally thought to let Chen Pozi return, but Qiao Momo, ever thrifty, said: “Chen Pozi was paid when she entered the residence. If you send her off now, wouldn’t that be silver wasted? In the end, she doesn’t eat much grain. Better to keep her—when the time comes, she can assist Huang Momo. That’s still better than relying on your unmarried maids.”
Childbirth was perilous—it was better to have too many hands than too few.
Shen Yujiao still recalled vividly the summer past, when she had delivered Ma Cuilan in that broken-down hut; her heart still quailed at the memory. So she agreed: “Then let Chen Pozi stay as well.”
That night, she told Pei Xia about Consort Xian’s midwife.
Pei Xia was not surprised: “Consort Xian has always been thorough in her ways. Since you are her adopted daughter and soon to give birth, as a foster mother she must show concern.”
At this, he recalled a recent letter from Madam Wang, saying she had asked her own aunt in Chang’an to find a reliable midwife for Shen Yujiao.
If needed, he could fetch her from the Wang household.
Whether his mother’s arrangement was a turnabout, meant to mend their strained in-law relationship, or simply out of concern for the child in Yuniang’s womb—
Whatever the reason, he did not fetch her. The residence now had two midwives, enough already; more would only bring confusion.
—
In the second month, the willows were steeped in spring mist, and the frozen Wei River began to thaw.
Seeing the weather turn warmer, Xie Wuling grew all the more restless.
In past years, he had always longed for spring to come quickly. But this year, knowing Jiaojiao was due in the third month, he wished the weather would stay cold—so that he might hold on in Chang’an until she delivered safely before leaving.
Childbirth for a woman was like passing through the gates of hell. The thought that Jiaojiao was about to face this ordeal made his heart pound uneasily; even at night he could not sleep soundly.
That afternoon, after morning drills at the Huo residence, he wandered again to the Pei residence gate in Yongning Ward.
He knew Shen Yujiao would not likely go out, but still he clung to a sliver of hope.
What if—
What if she happened to come out? Then he could see her once more.
Even if they could not speak, just to glimpse her back would be enough.
Yet from noon till dusk drum, his hope once more came to nothing.
Xie Wuling rolled his neck and consoled himself: never mind, her not going out meant she was resting well in the residence—she was doing fine.
He stepped into the crimson twilight of early spring, swaggering down the streets of Chang’an.
Just then, as he stood before a roast chicken shop, eyeing the few glossy, crispy chickens hanging upside down and hesitating whether to buy one as a treat, a sudden uproar broke out ahead—
“Quick, get out of the way!”
“Ah! My vegetables—!”
“My handcart, the tofu I just bought—all spilled!”
Xie Wuling froze and looked over, just in time to see four or five young lords in brocade galloping out of the dusk, hooves flying like wind and lightning, charging through with terrifying momentum.
“Which family’s sons dare to ride horses through the street like this!” The roast chicken shop boy poked his head out too.
The street, which had been bustling with people, instantly turned into chaos because of those few reckless fops galloping their horses. The common folk scattered in panic to both sides, while the vendors in the middle of the road had to worry both about their carts of cattle and sheep and their baskets of goods. In a flash, people and wares were overturned, cries and wails filling the air.
Just then, a sudden cry burst out from the roadside: “Little girl!!”
Looking closely, there in the center of the road lay a little girl with hair tied into tiny buns, who had fallen and couldn’t get up. Bewildered and terrified, she burst into loud sobs: “Mother, Mother!”
Seeing the lead horse’s hooves about to trample the child, a vein throbbed at Xie Wuling’s temple.
“Mate, lend me your roast chicken skewer!”
Before the shop boy could react, the iron skewer with the roast chicken on it had already been yanked away. In the next instant, a tall, dark-red figure shot out like a falling star, charging straight for the road.
His speed was so fast, his movements so agile, that the eye could hardly keep up before a sharp neigh split the air.
The iron skewer, which had moments ago been strung with roast chicken, stabbed into the body of a magnificently adorned steed—while the red-robed man had already snatched up the child and flashed to the roadside.
Startled and wounded, the fine horse reared on its hind legs, crazed and thrashing wildly.
Fortunately, the young man in a sapphire-blue brocade robe astride its back had decent riding skills. Though the horse was spooked, he only kept a grim face and tried his best to control it, without losing composure.
Still, the horse rampaged like mad, and the blue-robed man nearly got flung off several times.
Xie Wuling’s eyes glinted sharply, and he cursed inwardly—what a d*mned mess!
If the horse died, he could borrow money from some brat to compensate. But if a person died—judging by the extravagant clothes of these wastrels, they were likely of no small background—even if they chopped him into eight pieces and sold him off, it wouldn’t be enough!
Thinking this, he had no choice but to dash straight for the crazed horse, shouting to the blue-robed man on its back: “Jump down! I’ll be your meat cushion!”
Though the blue-robed man was tall and solid—if he crashed down, a few of Xie Wuling’s bones would surely snap—
D*mn it all, what rotten business!
The blue-robed man also knew the horse was beyond control. Seeing that burly fellow below clearly bracing himself to serve as a human cushion, he let go of the reins and, without hesitation, leapt off.
The moment they slammed to the ground together, Xie Wuling distinctly heard the crack and crunch of breaking bones.
Stars burst before his eyes, his teeth bared in pain, as he glared at the heavens with endless resentment—
What the h*ll had this fop been eating to grow so heavy? If he’d known earlier, he would’ve just let him fall to his death!
