Pei Xia’s face darkened. Before Xie Wuling could dash into the birthing room, he reached out and seized the back of his collar.
Beneath the not-too-thin, not-too-thick spring robe of watery blue, the muscles in his forearm were taut, the pale hand bulging with veins, knuckles whitening with the force of his grip.
Xie Wuling turned back, about to curse, when he met the man’s eyes, dark as a bottomless pool: “One careless word from Young Master Xie, and my wife’s good name might be utterly ruined—unable to set foot in Chang’an ever again. I ask that you guard your tongue.”
It was like a basin of cold water poured over his head. The excitement burning in Xie Wuling’s chest instantly cooled.
This pretty boy was a killjoy—but his words weren’t wrong.
“I spoke out of turn.”
Xie Wuling shook off Pei Xia’s hand. Catching the sideways glances from servants around them, he coughed to cover up, then raised his voice, grinning with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes: “You really are the dullest man alive—I was just joking. Besides, our bond was forged in life and death. To call us brothers of one heart and mind wouldn’t be an exaggeration! Now that you’re a father, I truly am happy for you… Tell you what, from today on, your son is my son. As his uncle, I’ll treat him as my very own!”
A vein throbbed twice at Pei Xia’s temple.
This scoundrel never failed to shatter his understanding of “shameless.”
Yet today, this same man had carried Yuniang into the birthing room, then rushed out to find a doctor. The servants were all household bondsmen, who could be dealt with later—none would dare speak recklessly. But the outside physician, and the Momo sent from the palace…
Pei Xia let out a long, heavy breath. Looking at the man in front of him, still grinning and trying to cozy up, he could only force himself to reply: “Brother Xie speaks true. Our friendship runs deep, and today I must thank you for your efforts.”
After a pause, he couldn’t help but add: “But words like earlier should never be said again. If some ill-minded person overheard and spread it, they could twist it into a scandal.”
Seeing him hold his nose and play along with the act, Xie Wuling’s thin lips curled upward.
The more flustered this pretty boy looked, the happier he felt.
Just then, footsteps sounded from inside.
Both men stiffened, their gazes snapping to the doorway.
The door swung open, and Qiao Momo came out cradling a bundle wrapped in sapphire silk. Seeing the two strikingly handsome gentlemen standing side by side at the door, she froze for a beat. Then, recovering, she quickly turned toward Pei Xia, smiling: “Congratulations, young master—your madam and the little young master are both safe and sound!”
The taut string in Pei Xia’s heart finally loosened. His gaze fell on the small bundle in her arms. He did not reach to take it, however, but asked instead: “How is Yuniang now?”
“Don’t worry, young master. Doctor Lin has taken her pulse. Aside from depleted blood and qi, the lady is fine—her life is in no danger.”
“Good.”
Pei Xia nodded, stepping forward: “I’ll go see her.”
“Ah, no, young master, don’t rush.” Qiao Momo quickly blocked him, her expression solemn: “The birthing room is still full of foul blood. The maids haven’t cleaned yet. In a few days, you must sit for the examinations. Just now, when my lady was in danger, it was fine for you to enter. But now she is safe—proper rules must still be observed!”
Pei Xia frowned, about to speak, when Xie Wuling snorted: “What, if he enters the birthing room, the ink in his belly evaporates? If he fails the exams, it just means his own ability isn’t enough—what the h*ll does it have to do with the birthing room?!”
The words were coarse and unlucky. Qiao Momo nearly fainted from rage, her face turning blue: “You scoundrel, why are you still here! And I’m speaking with my young master—when is it your turn to butt in!”
Xie Wuling opened his mouth to retort, but Pei Xia cut in with cool indifference, casting him a sideways glance: “Qiao Momo is Yuniang’s nurse-mother. You will not be rude.”
Xie Wuling choked.
He suddenly remembered—earlier that afternoon, Jiaojiao had used this exact tone with him too: “You must not be rude.”
Though he hated to admit it, at moments, Jiaojiao and this pretty boy really were alike.
“…Fine.” Xie Wuling didn’t want to send Yuniang’s nurse into a fit. His gaze drifted to the bundle in her arms, and he couldn’t help inching closer: “So this is the little brat?”
Qiao Momo snorted, turning away, refusing to show him, addressing only Pei Xia: “Young master, would you like to hold your son?”
Pei Xia glanced once more toward the inner room. After a moment’s silence, he finally extended his hands: “Give him to me.”
Qiao Momo quickly placed the child in his arms. The usually sharp and capable gentleman of the Pei clan now stood stiff as a board, holding the infant with all the awkwardness of a man who had never done so before.
“Don’t be nervous, young master—relax.” Qiao Momo laughed, seeing him cradle the baby like a weight on a scale, and just as she was about to correct his posture, Xie Wuling beat her to it.
“I swear, you’ve studied yourself stupid—can’t even hold a baby?!”
He stepped in to adjust Pei Xia’s grip. His tone was impatient, but his movements were careful: “Bend your arm like this. Use this hand to support his little butt—then he’ll be comfortable…”
What dazzling brilliance, what talent of a grand minister—yet he couldn’t even hold a child properly. What use did Jiaojiao have for him?
Though Pei Xia disdained Xie Wuling’s words and manner, when he saw that after Xie corrected him the baby in swaddling truly relaxed its wrinkled little face, he followed the posture he had been taught.
Qiao Momo also glanced at Xie Wuling in surprise.
Who would have thought this big, rough fellow would actually know how to hold a child?
The lanterns along the corridor had been lit a quarter-hour ago; under the soft, warm yellow light, Pei Xia quietly looked down at the infant in his arms—so tiny, wrinkled like a little monkey, eyes tightly shut, skin red, lips tinged with blue.
Judging by looks alone, it was impossible to tell who the child resembled.
“Why doesn’t he make a sound?” Pei Xia asked in puzzlement.
Weren’t newborns supposed to be noisy?
“The young master was stifled too long in his mother’s womb—he still hasn’t caught his breath.”
Qiao Momo recalled how, just now in the birthing room, when Little Lin pulled the child out, the tiny body was curled into a ball, the face dark with purplish-blue, utterly silent.
At that moment, they all felt a jolt—sure this child wouldn’t make it.
But the Madam had forced out a breath to ask: “He… he won’t cry?”
Qiao Momo couldn’t bear to tell her the truth, so she only nodded with tears in her eyes.
The mistress said: “Then grab his legs, smack his… backside… hard… smack…”
Chen Pozi had wanted to say the child’s face was already blue, more smacking was pointless—but since the mistress had spoken, she still did as told, striking hard.
Until the baby’s buttocks turned scarlet, she couldn’t bear to continue, while Shen Yujiao on the bed, lips bloodless and eyes half-shut, still repeated one word: “Smack…”
So Chen Pozi carried on without hope, and to their surprise, on the eighteenth smack, the half-dead child suddenly let out a weak “waa.”
Doctor Lin and Little Lin exclaimed together: “Truly a miracle.”
Just as Qiao Momo was full of emotions, a lazy, casual voice suddenly rang out, brash and loud: “Since you’re holding the child, I’ll go in and see Jiaojiao?”
Qiao Momo frowned, gaze falling on the ill-mannered man before her, undisguised dislike on her face.
The next instant, however, her own young master placed the swaddled infant straight into that man’s arms: “You look after the child.”
Qiao Momo: “…?”
Xie Wuling: “…?”
Pei Xia paid them no mind, lifted his steps, and walked straight into the room.
Qiao Momo came to her senses, not knowing whether to snatch the child back from Xie Wuling or chase after Pei Xia to stop him. After a moment’s indecision, she stayed at the doorway, watching Xie Wuling instead.
Though Xie Wuling was baffled at suddenly having a child thrust into his arms, when he saw Qiao Momo reaching to take him back, he immediately stepped back two paces, face full of protective fierceness: “It was your young master who entrusted the child to me. Old Auntie, don’t be unreasonable, going against your young master’s wishes.”
Qiao Momo was at a loss for words, forced to stand stiffly at the doorway, stern-faced, keeping close watch on his every move.
Xie Wuling acted as though she wasn’t there, taking advantage of the lamplight beneath the corridor to properly examine the little brat.
When Pei Xia had been holding him earlier, he’d glanced a few times: all wrinkled up like an old granny, ugly as could be.
Now in his own arms, the more he looked, the more pleasing he found him.
“Little Xiedi, little Xiedi, do you remember your father’s—cough, my voice?”
Xie Wuling lowered his tone, gazing at the baby whose eyes were still shut, and his handsome brows and eyes unknowingly softened with fatherly warmth: “Back when you were still in your mother’s belly, I’d already greeted you.”
“But you little brat, why were you so naughty today, tormenting your mother like that? Luckily she’s fine—otherwise your old man would’ve tanned your backside.”
The child in his arms suddenly furrowed his brows, the red little face wrinkling further.
Xie Wuling saw it, lifted his thick brows, and laughed: “What, still not convinced? Don’t you dare! You’re already ugly as a monkey, and when you get mad you’re uglier still. How could you end up like this? Your mother is so beautiful, like a fairy…”
As he spoke, his eyes carefully scanned the baby’s features, trying to find Shen Yujiao’s shadow there.
But the child’s features hadn’t yet opened up, and being soaked too long in amniotic fluid made the skin shriveled. Other than fair skin, it was impossible to tell who he took after.
So Xie Wuling concluded: “Must take after that pretty-boy, no wonder he’s so ugly.”
The little baby still kept his eyes shut, but his tiny mouth quivered: “Wuu~”
“Still not convinced! Such a fiery temper at such a young age?” Xie Wuling laughed harder, though his words were scornful, his eyes brimmed with fondness: “This bad temper must be from that Pei fellow. Your mother is gentle as water—she’d never be like this. You little brat are truly lucky, having such a good mother…”
At that, his gaze drifted for a moment.
When he came back to himself, he bent his head, lightly touching his forehead to the baby’s, murmuring warmly: “Little brat, don’t ever torment your mother like that again. It wasn’t easy for her to bring you into this world. From now on, you must honor her well.”
Qiao Momo, hearing his endless muttering, was baffled.
Such a fine-looking young lord, yet how could his mouth be such a chatterbox! And to speak such slander against her own young master—it was truly detestable!
But watching the way he held the child with such tenderness, anyone who didn’t know better would think he really was the father…
Qiao Momo’s brows knit tighter. Just what was the relationship between this Lord Xie and her mistress?
—
Inside the birthing room, the carved window panels had been opened, the night breeze thinning somewhat the heavy stench of blood.
After thanking Doctor Lin, Lin Little Hand, and Chen Pozi in the side room, Pei Xia ordered Bai Ping to distribute rewards, and told Dongxu to go to the guest quarters and notify the Li family.
Once everything was settled, Qiulu came out from the inner room with a few little maids, moving gracefully to salute Pei Xia: “Master, Madam has already been cleaned up properly.”
Pei Xia gave a slight nod: “Escort Doctor Lin and Lin Niangzi to the guest room.”
With that, he lifted the curtain and stepped inside.
Xiaying was holding a fire stick, lighting plum blossom incense in the censer to calm the mind and ease the breath. Seeing her master enter, she hurried to bow.
“No need—carry on with your work.”
Pei Xia raised his hand to stop her, his steps quieting as he slowly walked toward the bed.
The canopy bed had been changed with fresh sheets and bedding, even the curtains were replaced with a set embroidered in autumn-hued crabapple blossoms. Half the gauzy drapes hung down lightly, and in the dim glow by the bed, Shen Yujiao lay quietly, dressed in clean sleepwear. Her face was pale, eyes tightly shut—she had clearly spent all her strength and slept deeply, so deeply it almost seemed… she was no longer breathing.
At that thought, Pei Xia’s heart sank heavily. He quickly lowered a hand beneath her nose.
Only when a weak, delicate breath touched his fingertips did the heart that had plunged into icy depths slowly rise again—though lingering panic and dread still gripped him.
So close—just a little more, and his wife would have been gone.
He dared not even imagine—if Xie Wuling had not stopped her, if Yuniang had truly drunk that bowl of labor-inducing medicine, bled out—then at this moment… what would have become of him?
He did not dare imagine it, could not imagine it.
Even the thought made his chest tight and suffocating, as though a pair of cold, merciless hands were tearing at his heart. The bitter pain coursed with his blood through every limb, until even his fingertips trembled.
It was only today he realized—unawares, Yuniang had already entered his heart.
No longer merely “wife” as a role, but something fused into his very bones and blood, inseparable.
So this was what was meant by “What is love in this world? That it binds life and death alike.”
Toward Yuniang… he had fallen in love.
His long fingers could not help brushing over her face on the bed, tracing from her graceful brows down—along her nose, her full lips, her delicate chin, her slender neck—at last pausing over her heart.
Through the thin spring quilt, he could faintly feel the beat beneath.
She was in his heart. But her heart—who did it hold?
Him—or that man outside, Xie Wuling?
Pei Xia fell silent. The cold, jade-like face no longer showed its usual chill. His long, narrow eyes narrowed further, and deep in the dark pupils, hidden currents surged.
After a long while, he bent down, warm thin lips lightly brushing Shen Yujiao’s lip corner, his voice soft and hoarse: “Langjun and wife are one, sharing joy and sorrow. Yuniang, in this world, you and I are the most fitting match.”
—
Shen Yujiao felt she had dreamed a long, long dream.
In the dream, she didn’t know where she had walked to—only endless darkness ahead, and her feet heavy as lead. Each step cost her immense strength. She wanted to stop, but behind her a horde of demons chased, reaching to grab her ankles.
She could only force herself forward. She didn’t know how long she trudged through that cold, black void—until a flash of white light, and then two roads appeared.
She looked left: at the crossroads stood a man in a green robe, elegant as jade, smiling at her with spring-like warmth: “Yuniang, come to your husband.”
She looked right: there stood a man in a red robe, aura fierce, waving with a free and wanton grin: “Jiaojiao, come here.”
Shen Yujiao stood dazed. At that moment, a baby’s cry rang out.
She lifted her gaze—the man in green now held a child in his arms, his dark eyes fixed deeply on her: “Yuniang, will you abandon even your child?”
“Bah, Pei Shouzhen, you shameless wretch!” the red-robed man cursed. Suddenly, a child too appeared in his arms. He snorted: “What’s the big deal? Who doesn’t have a child?”
Before Shen Yujiao could recover, he waved his hand—and behind him, seven, eight, nine, ten, a whole crowd of children appeared. He looked smug: “This one’s Xie Tian, this one’s Xie Di, this is Xie Jingang, this is Xie Guanyin…”
Like a khan reviewing his troops, countless children popped out. The red-robed man lifted his chin: “Children, go to your mother!”
In an instant, a horde of children rushed toward her: “Mother! Mother!”
“—!!!”
“Madam? Madam, what’s wrong?”
“Oh dear, she’s sweating so much. Xiaying, quickly fetch Doctor Lin, say Madam is breaking into a sweat in her sleep!”
By her ears were the crisp, anxious voices of maids. Shen Yujiao slowly opened her eyes—the bizarre dream vanished. What she saw was the embroidered autumn-hued canopy above her.
She blinked blankly twice, then saw Dongxu’s worried face lean over: “Madam, can you speak? Say something, don’t scare your servant.”
Shen Yujiao’s lips moved: “I…”
But after just one word, her throat burned as if scraped by blades, parched and raw.
Dongxu, seeing she could still make a sound, noticed her gaze was clear now—not as dazed as yesterday. She exhaled in relief, wiping Shen Yujiao’s sweat with a handkerchief while half-crying: “As long as Madam is fine… Please, stay lying down. Yesterday you spent too much strength. The doctor strictly ordered that you must rest well… I’ll bring you a cup of tea.”
Soon, Dongxu brought over a cup of red date and brown sugar tea.
As the warm, sweet liquid slid down her throat, the dryness eased. Propped against the soft pillow, Shen Yujiao thought back on that strange dream, still with lingering fear.
How utterly absurd—how could she dream such a thing?
As for the two people in that dream…
Shen Yujiao closed her eyes. Likely it was because she always worried those two would quarrel, so much so that even in dreams she was fretting.
“Madam, there’s goji-berry chicken soup simmering on the stove. This servant will bring you a bowl.”
Dongxu’s voice pulled her back from her thoughts. She opened her eyes again, and at once felt that pain beneath her body, impossible to ignore. Frowning, she asked, “Where is the child? Is he well?”
She only remembered, in a daze, hearing the child cry out once.
After that, her strength gave out and she fainted.
When she awoke again, it was now.
“Madam, rest easy, the young master is safe and sound.” Dongxu smiled. “He’s right next door with the wet nurse. Before you woke, he already had a feed. The bruises on his face are gone, and he looks far more lively than yesterday!”
At these words, the knot in Shen Yujiao’s heart eased. The weary lines of her brows and eyes softened slowly. “That’s good.”
Then she added, “Bring him here, let me take a look. I didn’t even get a glance at him when he was born—I don’t know what he looks like.”
“Not just yet.” Dongxu shook her head.
“Hm?”
“Master truly is farsighted. He knew that the moment you woke, you’d want to see the child, so he gave strict instructions: you must first eat and drink your fill before the young master may be brought to you.”
Saying this, Dongxu grinned and winked at Shen Yujiao. “Madam doesn’t know, but after this ordeal, Master treasures you like the apple of his eye. If he didn’t still have a heap of matters demanding his attention, he’d be clinging to your side without taking a single step away.”
Shen Yujiao’s brows shifted slightly, recalling how yesterday, when the pain was unbearable, Pei Xia had stayed at her side, holding her tightly.
She wasn’t even sure if it had been a hallucination, but in a haze, she thought he had even fed her medicine.
“Where is Master now?” she asked.
“In the front courtyard,” Dongxu replied. “Yesterday at dusk your maternal grandfather, uncle and aunt, and the eldest madam of the Qi household all rushed over. You were asleep and didn’t know, but the Madams came into your chamber to look at you for a while. Knowing the ordeal you suffered, they were so heartsick they wept. Master feared they’d disturb you, so he asked them to go next door to see the young master instead.
“Lord Li and your uncle had to attend morning court, so before dawn today they left by carriage. Madam Aunt stayed the night here, but after breakfast this morning, Marquis Yongwei’s household sent to summon her back. Madam knows well—her mother-in-law there is fond of laying down rules. With no choice, Madam Aunt came to look in on you and the young master one last time, then returned. Now in the residence, only Madam Uncle is still in the west wing. Oh, and also…”
Dongxu’s words abruptly cut off.
Puzzled, Shen Yujiao was about to ask “who,” but the thought struck her and she lowered her voice: “You mean… Young Lord Xie?”
Dongxu’s expression turned awkward. She nodded. “Mm, that young lord waited outside the whole time yesterday. Seeing the hour grow late and the ward gates already closed, our Master had him lodged in a guest room.”
Pei Xia had actually allowed Xie Wuling to stay.
Shen Yujiao was surprised, but quickly understood. Pei Xia always acted upright and open, with a generous heart. Yesterday, although Xie Wuling had indeed overstepped, it had been for the sake of helping.
Even if Pei Xia disliked him, he would never do something as petty as throwing him out to wander the streets.
Dongxu, cautious, studied her mistress’s face. Seeing Shen Yujiao fall silent at the mention of that “Young Lord Xie,” her curiosity swelled, but she dared not pry. She only whispered, “Madam, please rest. This servant will fetch water for you.”
Shen Yujiao absentmindedly murmured “mm,” her frail body leaning against the pillow. Her thoughts were muddled—now on Xie Wuling, now on Pei Xia, now on the child she had yet to behold.
In this haze, she washed up, and the maids brought chicken soup and meat porridge.
Perhaps because her heart was preoccupied, she had little appetite. Persuaded by the maids, she managed a few bites of chicken, drained the soup, and felt nearly full.
“Now may the child be brought?” She dabbed her lips lightly with a handkerchief, looking to Dongxu with expectant eyes.
“Yes, this servant will fetch the young master at once.”
Dongxu turned with a smile.
She had taken only two steps when from behind the curtain came a bright voice announcing: “Master, your timing is perfect! Madam has just finished the chicken soup, and she is longing to see the young master!”
On the bed, Shen Yujiao heard the commotion. Her body, which had just sunk wearily back, straightened at once. Instinctively, she looked over.
The mist-blue embroidered curtain swayed gently. From behind an eight-foot sandalwood screen stepped a tall man in a white robe patterned with bamboo in jade hues, cradling a swaddled bundle securely in his arms, striding toward her.
“Yuniang, why such an expression?”
Meeting her gaze, Pei Xia’s clear, elegant brows carried a faint smile. “Could it be you long only to see the young master, and not the older one?”
