Night fell. Lanterns lit the streets. In Pingkang Ward, flutes and songs, dance and revelry, a world of indulgence.
In a third-floor private room by the window, Xie Wuling looked warily at Pei Xia across from him: “You bring me to a place like this—what do you mean? Want to test my unwavering loyalty to Jiaojiao? Or frame me, to slander my innocence before her? Then you’ve miscalculated. All these songs, dances, wine, and women—I’ve seen them since I was small, and they hold no temptation for me.”
Since childhood he had grown up on Qinhuai flower boats. Before he could even walk steadily, he could shake the dice cup. Before he could speak clearly, he could already call “big” or “small” and rattle off six sixes. As for those gaudily dressed courtesans, coquettish and tender in front of clients, cursing them behind their backs as “b*stard sons of turtles”—one more vicious than the next.
Though Xie Wuling despised that old bawd known as “Red Ma” on the boats, there was one thing she said that rang true: “You, a wh*re, and you still believe in men? Fall in love with men? Live and die for men? Even if the Qinhuai River were drained and poured into your skull, it wouldn’t fill it!”
And now, seeing Xie Wuling with both hands crossed over his chest, wearing a look of chastity and self-restraint, Pei Xia pressed his brow: “Put away your filthy thoughts. This is a tavern, not the sort of place you’re imagining.”
Xie Wuling: “Isn’t this Pingkang Ward? And isn’t Pingkang Ward the quarter for pleasure and revelry?”
Pei Xia lifted the silver wine flask on the table, engraved with parrots biting branches and silk ribbons, poured himself a cup: “It is also a gathering place of the powerful, full of eyes and ears.”
Xie Wuling raised a brow. Seeing Pei Xia had no intention of pouring him a cup, he muttered inwardly about his stinginess. Once Pei Xia set down the flask, he snatched it up and poured himself one.
“What wine is this?” He raised the finely worked gilt silver cup, patterned with hunting ladies, to his nose: “Fragrant.”
“Sanle brew from the Western Regions.”
“Hu wine, eh? No wonder I haven’t seen it before.” Xie Wuling took a sip, smacked his lips: “Not bad. No wonder Chang’an is the capital—fine things from all the world gather here. Truly makes one reluctant to leave.”
Pei Xia watched him drain the cup in two gulps, black eyes narrowing: “You’re not afraid I poisoned it?”
At those words, Xie Wuling poured himself another cup, downed it, then flipped the cup upside down.
Pei Xia frowned, about to speak, when Xie Wuling suddenly lolled his head and stuck out his tongue: “Ah, I’m dead.”
Pei Xia: “…”
Catching Pei Xia’s speechless look, Xie Wuling shook his head and sighed: “You really are dull. No wonder you can’t win Jiaojiao’s heart.”
Pei Xia’s gaze flickered. Looking again at the rakish, flippant man opposite him, he said coldly: “Do you think she would fancy these childish tricks of yours?”
“What of childishness? Isn’t there a saying about donning rainbow clothes to delight one’s parents? I call this childishness to delight my wife.”
“Xie Wuling, she is my wife.”
“…”
Xie Wuling’s mouth twitched down. Too lazy to split hairs, he said: “If you wanted to kill me, why bother bailing me from Dali Temple? Why let me ride in your Pei carriage, and even bring me here, where tongues wag and eyes are many?”
He picked up a fried bean with his chopsticks, tossed it into his mouth, and bit down with a crisp crunch. His peach-blossom eyes, lazy yet carrying a trace of seriousness, lifted: “Speak—what scheme are you plotting?”
Pei Xia, seeing that his mind was quick and not muddled and dull like an ordinary street rogue, eased the stifling irritation in his chest somewhat and said evenly: “Although I’ve temporarily bailed you out of prison, this murder case is stirring up great uproar. It’s hard to guarantee no one will seize upon your stabbing Madam Liu Huang to make a fuss. Rather than let others spread rumors and tarnish Yuniang’s reputation, it would be better if…”
Better if he pinched his nose, acknowledged Xie Wuling as a so-called bosom friend, and made it solid fact—
If they were close friends, then Xie Wuling’s stepping in to stop the midwife’s evil deeds would naturally make sense.
And in Chang’an City, there was no place more suited to spreading word than Pingkang Ward, a den of pleasure and luxury.
Pei Xia believed that by tomorrow, news of him and Xie Wuling drinking merrily together in Pingkang Ward until dawn would be all over the city.
Before he even finished speaking, Xie Wuling already understood his meaning.
Even though the two looked down on each other, and neither wished to be saddled with the label of “bosom friend,” when it came to Shen Yujiao’s benefit, the two men were surprisingly of one mind.
After crunching through the eighth bean, Xie Wuling finally couldn’t endure the heavy silence in the air.
Drinking and eating with a “love rival” was hard enough—sitting in silence while doing so was worse than prison itself.
He set down his chopsticks, eyes lifting slightly: “That old hag—who do you think sent her? Have you any guesses?”
Pei Xia held his cup between long fingers, silent.
Xie Wuling frowned: “Hey, I’m talking to you!”
His voice was naturally loud, and raised higher, it became downright overbearing.
Pei Xia looked at him quietly, then after a pause, parted his thin lips: “Even if I had a guess, why should I tell you? Even if I told you, you—a mere guard—what could you do about it?”
Xie Wuling had long known that these sons of noble families carried a natural sense of superiority, looking down on him, a baseborn nobody, as beneath notice—
People were ranked high and low, noble and humble; such was the way of the world, not something he alone could overturn.
But no scion of a great house had ever made him grit his teeth in hatred the way Pei Xia did—hating so much he wanted to smash this ethereal, holier-than-thou “gentleman” into the dirt, beat him until he was a swollen pig-headed mess.
His big hand unconsciously clenched tighter around the wine cup, bending the silver slightly. Xie Wuling’s gaze glinted cold as he stared at the man opposite, then tipped back the liquor in a single swallow, as if swallowing his flesh and drinking his blood.
“Of course, I can’t compare with the great abilities of Gentleman Pei.”
The cool wine slid into his belly, calming his fire just a little. He set down the cup and sneered in return: “Gentleman Pei is truly capable. With such a lofty family, so many servants—yet you couldn’t even protect one pregnant woman. You let her fall into peril, fleeing from Luoyang all the way to Jinling, hungry, cold, in constant fear. Even knowing you were in Huainan, she would rather detour past Huainan to Lingnan than seek out her own husband… Tsk tsk, what great ability indeed!”
“Xie Wuling.”
“Don’t be hasty—I’m not done praising yet.”
Xie Wuling couldn’t stomach that feigned air of calm aloofness. He downed another cup, his languid voice tinged with drunkenness: “All your so-called ability only works on powerless common folk like us. But there’s always someone higher, stronger. In this world there are plenty more powerful than the Pei clan. Who’s to say the wheel won’t turn, and next time it won’t be your Pei family crushed under someone’s heel? Eh, don’t glare, I’m not cursing you. But if you ask me, this Chang’an is nothing but a place of trouble. Look—just when you managed to bring Jiaojiao back, hasn’t she already fallen into danger again?”
“If you truly want the best for Jiaojiao, why not let go, grant me and her our wish, let me take her back to Jinling and live a steady little life? As the saying goes, ‘Better to forget each other in the rivers and lakes than cling to each other in misery.’”
Once, Xie Wuling had despised people who spouted books in front of him. Now that he was the one quoting, he felt a swell of pride—
See how well he spoke, even citing the classics. A pity Jiaojiao wasn’t here, or she would surely look at him anew.
Pei Xia listened with a straight face, only finding the words absurd and meaningless.
“Xie Wuling, for the sake of your past kindness toward my wife and child, I have tolerated your reckless insolence these days. But you must understand—patience has its limits.”
Sitting upright, his tone was as cold and even as ever, yet in his dark eyes flickered a dangerous glint: “As you yourself said, Chang’an is a place of strife. You had best leave quickly, waste no more time here—lest you end up throwing your life away as well.”
“That needn’t trouble the great Sir Pei. My life’s so cheap even the King of H*ll wouldn’t want it.”
Looking at Pei Xia, Xie Wuling knew there was little hope, but with the courage of drink he still blurted out: “When Jiaojiao was in Jinling, she seldom spoke of you. But whenever she did, her words carried respect. Even though you took her from me back then, she never once blamed you. She only said you were a gentleman, that you would win back justice for her. Pei Shouzhen—if you are truly a gentleman, why can’t you grant her happiness, and mine? Why must you play the villain who breaks apart a pair of mandarin ducks?”
“Xie Wuling, you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk. Back then you took Jiaojiao away only because of the child in her belly. Now that the child is born—at worst, you keep the child, and let Jiaojiao come with me. With your conditions, it’s not as if you couldn’t find another bride, is it?”
Xie Wuling’s burning gaze locked on Pei Xia, his deep brows clear and steady: “After all, you and Jiaojiao have no feelings between you, do you?”
That retort suddenly brought Pei Xia back to the second night after his wife gave birth.
He had returned home late, knowing she must already be asleep, yet still wanting to see her.
Under the lamplight, her sleeping face was serene, gentle and lovely. But when he brushed her cheek with his hand, she murmured another man’s name.
“Xie Wuling…”
His wife, who had just borne his child, was calling another man’s name in her dreams.
That night his brow throbbed violently, just as it did now, as a dark, consuming malice surged in his heart.
“Xie Wuling, if you speak one more reckless word, don’t blame me for turning on you.”
“How am I speaking recklessly? Yours was a blind marriage without affection. If she trusted you, loved you, then knowing you were in Huainan, why would she take the harder, farther road to Lingnan instead? If even a pillow-side companion cannot fully trust you, do you dare call that affection? Pei Shouzhen, don’t deceive your—”
The word “self” hadn’t even left his lips when the man across from him suddenly stood, one hand braced on the table’s edge, the other seizing his collar in a tight grip.
That man, always cold as jade, now wore a mask of frost, his gaze dark and oppressive: “Xie. Wu. Ling.”
And in his eyes, Xie Wuling clearly saw the violent chill he was restraining—so this was what a “gentleman” looked like when pushed too far.
“What if Jiaojiao were to see you like this—!”
The hand gripping his collar suddenly flung sideways with force. Caught off guard, Xie Wuling crashed to the ground with the wine cups, dishes, and food scattering all around.
“Pei Shouzhen!!”
Amidst the mess, Pei Xia sat down again as though nothing had happened, slowly drew out a kerchief to wipe his fingers, his voice iced through: “I’ve told you before—my wife’s name is not for you to call.”
Sauce, broth, and spilled wine splattered across the floor, soaking into Xie Wuling’s robes.
He was already somewhat drunk, and now goaded by Pei Xia, fury blazed up at once: “Your wife, your wife—if I hadn’t brought her back from that earth god shrine, Jiaojiao would’ve starved to death long ago! And you call that a gentleman’s act, striking in secret? Bah, shameless!”
He had long despised that pretty-faced hypocrite. Struggling up, he swung his fist: “If you’re a real man, then fight me fair and square!”
A gentleman debates with words, not fists.
Pei Xia had no wish to brawl like a thug. Yet Xie Wuling’s fist came at him with fierce momentum, and his gaze flickered as he quickly dodged—
Seeing him dodge, Xie Wuling’s eyes reddened and he struck again.
Tonight he had to beat this pretentious fake gentleman to vent his rage!
But as Pei Xia saw Xie Wuling pressing harder, anger stirred in his own chest. Did this brazen rogue truly take him for weak and easy to bully?
He might be a scholar, but not a frail bookworm with no strength. The gentleman’s Six Arts were not learned in vain; his body was agile and deft as a swallow. He evaded several of Xie Wuling’s blows.
Yet he underestimated the street brawler’s ways. Seeing his strikes at the face all dodged, Xie Wuling smirked coldly and kicked straight for the lower body.
Pei Xia’s expression changed. He whipped out the folding fan at his waist to block, but Xie Wuling had only feinted—his real punch, clenched tight, drove straight toward that cold, flawless face.
Bang! One solid blow landed, and half of Pei Xia’s face went numb and red with swelling.
As another fist was about to fall, his eyes darkened. Abandoning any pretense of “no hands, only words,” his long fingers clenched and he struck at Xie Wuling’s chest and stomach.
At another time, Xie Wuling could have taken the blow. But the ribs broken in his recent fall from a horse had not fully healed. Hit suddenly there, his face went pale, cold sweat beading his brow, and he staggered back two steps.
Pei Xia rose with a cold face, wiped at the corner of his mouth with his sleeve, staining the white fabric with bright blood.
This rogue.
Since fists had already been thrown—what difference between one punch and two?
He tugged at his swollen lip and strode toward Xie Wuling, his tall figure taut, fist clenched tight.
Xie Wuling saw clearly that Pei Xia meant to fight in earnest now. Bearing the stabbing pain in his ribs, he grinned, mad with defiance: “Well, well! Isn’t this rare—Gentleman Pei ready to brawl? Fine, fine, I’ll keep you company to the end!”
Clutching his chest, he straightened, hooked a hand at Pei Xia in provocation: “Come on then—I’ve been wanting to thrash you for a long time!”
Pei Xia sneered coldly: “We’ll see who thrashes who.”
Outside, spring warmth lingered, perfumes and music drifting through the ward. Inside, two men of equal stature faced each other, tension taut, smoke thick in the air.
Just as the clash was about to erupt, a knock came from the door—Jinglin’s voice: “Master, the guest room has been arranged.”
Night had grown deep, and the ward gates were closed. Pei Xia had already planned to stay with Xie Wuling in Pingkang Ward for the night, and part ways at dawn—leaving behind the appearance of “bosom friends reunited, drinking all night long.”
As for now—
Reason pressed down the agitation in his chest; calm took the upper hand. Pei Xia slowly lowered his fist and cast Xie Wuling a cold glance: “See to yourself.”
“Weren’t we fighting? If you’ve got guts, don’t you walk away!”
The wooden door pushed open from within. Jinglin, standing at the threshold, caught sight of his master and was startled: “Master, your face…”
Pei Xia’s expression was dark as water as he cast him a sidelong look.
Jinglin shivered, instantly falling silent. Looking again at the mess inside the room, his heart leapt—had it really come to blows?
Heavens above. His master, who never showed joy or anger, whose desires never swayed him—had actually brawled with a street thug!
“Sir Xie drank too much and accidentally knocked over the table. Have someone clean up. Whatever was broken, compensate at full price.”
Jinglin stammered, “Y-yes…”
Pei Xia raised a hand to rub his brow, unable to hide his weariness. “Where is the guest room?”
“This way, Master…”
Jinglin dared not spare another look for the man inside, and quickly led his master off to rest.
Watching the master and servant walk out just like that, Xie Wuling slammed down his fist, unsatisfied: “Coward.”
His mouth was hard, but the pain in his ribs had him clutching at his side, sitting down to catch his breath.
That pale-faced scholar looked so refined, yet his strength was d*mned fierce!
After a while, footsteps sounded at the doorway.
Xie Wuling thought it was just the tavern lads coming to clean, but when he lifted his eyes he saw instead a young man in dark robes and jade belt, noble in bearing, striding steadily inside.
None other than the Third Prince, Sima Ze, long unseen.
A flicker of surprise passed through Xie Wuling’s eyes. He was just about to rise and salute when the prince lifted a hand: “In such a state, spare yourself.”
“…Many thanks, Your Highness.”
The Third Prince regarded his pale, disheveled state, eyes roaming him up and down with a half-smile: “Seems your relationship with Pei Shouzhen runs deep indeed.”
The mockery in those words was too sharp. Xie Wuling’s lips twitched as he replied only: “How is it that Your Highness is here?”
“The Minister of Justice is my uncle.”
The prince stood over him, smiling from above: “You wouldn’t follow me, but I’m a man who remembers favors. Since you once lent me aid, I thought to return the peach for the plum and pull you out of trouble. Didn’t expect though—you’ve quite the connections.”
Xie Wuling neither confirmed nor denied, only gave a respectful bow: “Your servant thanks Third Highness for his goodwill.”
“But what exactly is your relationship with this Pei Shouzhen? Old friends? I doubt it. That arrogant, self-regarding sort—how could he be close with you? Hm, let me guess.”
The prince stroked his chin, his gaze sweeping over Xie Wuling’s lowered eyes, then suddenly lowered his voice: “Could it be—you have something with Pei Xia’s wife?”
Xie Wuling’s face sank at once, his eyes sharp as cold stars fixed on the man before him: “I beg Your Highness to be careful with words. Do not slander Madam Pei’s honor.”
Seeing this reaction, the prince’s lips curved in amusement: “So then—you covet another man’s wife?”
“Third Highness!”
“All right, all right, I won’t guess further.”
Clicking his tongue, the prince masked the meaningful glint in his eyes, replacing it with a feigned helplessness: “Your injuries—are they all right?”
“Thank you for Your Highness’s concern. They are no great matter.”
“Good.” The Third Prince said lightly, “It’s getting late. Rest.”
Seeing that he truly looked as though just passing through, Xie Wuling secretly let out a breath, clutching his chest as he rose: “Your servant respectfully sees Your Highness out.”
“No need.” The prince waved a hand.
At the door, he paused, turned his head slightly: “I sat awhile in the Dali Temple today. That midwife’s murder case—there seems to be some progress.”
Catching the straight, intent look from within, the prince’s mouth twitched upward, but he quickly schooled it into a troubled sigh: “The hand behind it has deep power. Not just Pei Shouzhen—even I would find it hard to oppose. Who knows if this verdict will grant Madam Pei justice… or send her a death warrant instead.”
“What do you mean by that?” Xie Wuling staggered a step forward.
“The life of another man’s wife—what’s that to you, to make you so agitated?”
The prince shrugged, smiling at him: “You’d best hurry back to Ningzhou.”
And with that, he stepped out, drawing out a Chang’an opera tune as he went: “Ah—life and death are by fate, wealth and rank not man’s to make—”
Xie Wuling stood stunned in place, the deep lines of his features clouded with a heaviness that could not be dispelled.
—
The next morning, as the dawn bells rang at the four corners of the city, radiant clouds like brocade spread across Chang’an, cloaking the whole city in color.
The city that had slept through the night slowly awoke. Ward gates, city gates, palace gates opened one after another. Scholars, farmers, artisans, merchants, officials, commoners—those going to court, to work, to open shops, to enter or leave the city—streamed back and forth, lively and bustling as ever.
At the Pei residence in Yongning Ward, after finishing her breakfast with the help of her maids, Shen Yujiao spent some time playing with her child before hearing a servant from the front court report that her husband had returned.
Shen Yujiao glanced out the window; judging by the light, it was already mid-morning.
Yesterday she had told him to stay in the residence these two days and focus on his books for the exam, yet not long after leaving her courtyard he had taken a carriage out, and hadn’t returned all night.
Though he’d sent a servant back with word that he was dining and drinking with friends outside, telling her to rest early and not wait up…
“Waaah~” The child in her arms opened his soft little mouth, seeming a bit unhappy.
Snapping back to herself, Shen Yujiao lowered her head to soothe the tiny one: “What is it? Hungry?”
The child was five days old now. With the careful tending of the wet nurse and maids, he was no longer as frail as right after birth. His skin, once wrinkled and red, had turned smooth, plump, fair and tender. His eyes could open now too—long, beautiful eyes, like Pei Xia’s. The lids folded delicately, and the dark irises shone bright, clear as a mountain spring, brimming with childish innocence.
Qiao Momo said the boy was born with “dragon eyes and phoenix brows,” and would surely grow into a peerless figure like his father.
But Shen Yujiao thought to herself: cleverness, fine—let him take after Pei Xia. But temper? Best not. She hoped her child would be cheerful, lively, cling close to her with warmth and affection, not bound by so much propriety.
“Madam, I think young master’s wet himself,” the wet nurse said awkwardly. “Shall I take him to change?”
Startled, Shen Yujiao looked down at the little face flushed red with embarrassment, and let out a dry laugh: “So it was wet pants. Forgive me, darling, Mother didn’t realize.”
She handed the child over. Watching the nurse pat his back with practiced ease and carry him out, Shen Yujiao couldn’t help feeling conflicted.
Perhaps… she should try nursing him herself?
Back when she had Ping’an, Aunt Liu had said that children fed by their own mothers grew closer, more familiar. All their children had been breastfed—no one used goat’s milk.
Later, seeing how she had fled famine, thin and haggard, with no milk to give, Aunt Liu had changed her tune: “Goat’s milk is just the same. You’ll still be the one raising him; no difference.”
That distant memory returned, and Shen Yujiao looked down at herself.
These past six months of rich food and rest… perhaps she could try now?
“Madam, the master said he’ll be sitting for the exam tomorrow. Today he’s in the study and won’t be coming over,” Bai Ping said, lifting the curtain as she entered.
Shen Yujiao was surprised: “He won’t even come see the baby?”
Bai Ping’s expression was resentful. “That’s what Master said.”
Shen Yujiao found it strange.
Since moving to Chang’an, no matter how busy he was, Pei Xia always made time to visit the rear court. And this time, he had been gone all night…
What friend could keep him the whole night long?
If not for her confinement keeping her indoors, she would have taken the child to the study herself to find out.
That night, lying in bed long after the household had gone quiet, she was still turning it over in her mind.
She had no answer yet when the sound of careful footsteps came closer.
Her lashes fluttered.
When the curtain embroidered with crabapple blossoms was lifted aside, she lazily propped herself up: “Langjun, it’s so late…”
The rest of her words cut off. Her black eyes widened in shock. “Your face—what happened?”
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