In the dim glow of the candle, Pei Xia’s face stiffened.
“You… haven’t slept yet?”
It was near midnight—usually by then she was deep in slumber.
“Maybe I napped too long in the day, so I wasn’t sleepy at night,” Shen Yujiao replied casually, but her clear eyes never left his face. Her brows knitted. “Langjun, don’t turn away. Let me see… what happened to you?”
Even with only one lamp left outside, the swelling on the left side of his face was too glaring to miss.
“I tripped.”
Pei Xia turned his face, showing only the right side, his expression touched with rare embarrassment. “Nothing worth looking at. It’s late—rest early.”
He turned to go, but his robe sleeve was caught.
Looking back, he saw his wife’s pale face tilted up, her dark eyes glimmering in the candlelight. “Langjun, sit here. Let me see.”
“……”
Though reluctant, the care in her eyes pressed against him. He pursed his lips, then finally sat down on the bed’s edge.
Shen Yujiao hooked up the curtain with a gold clasp, letting more light spill into the fragrant space, and with it came a clearer view of his injury.
From beneath his eye down to the corner of his mouth, the swelling stood out sharply. His complexion, pale to begin with, made the bruises—blue, purple, red—spread blotchy and fierce. It was a frightening sight.
“How could a fall do this much damage?”
Her frown deepened, her voice edged with worry. “Good thing it missed your eye. But tomorrow you sit the exam—if your eyes are hurt, how could you read the questions, how could you write your answers?”
Pei Xia said nothing, only watching as his wife bit her lip in worry. Clad only in her thin under-robe, her small frame leaned close, one hand braced on the bedding, the other hovering, hesitant—wanting to touch his face yet afraid to cause pain.
“Does it hurt very badly?” she asked softly.
Pei Xia met her gaze. The words “doesn’t hurt” turned at the last moment, and what came out was only: “Mn.”
Shen Yujiao froze, then sighed softly: “What a foolish question from me. In this state, of course it must hurt. Did Langjun apply medicine?”
Pei Xia said: “I did.”
“Then why is it still so swollen?” Shen Yujiao stared at the face before her, both distressed and regretful. Such a flawless, handsome countenance, now suddenly marred over such a large area—what a waste, what a pity. Her heart clenched with worry. “With injuries like this, how will you go out tomorrow and face people?”
Candidates had to pass through several rounds of checks before entering the exam hall. With Pei Xia going in tomorrow with a face like this, he would surely draw countless looks. Shen Yujiao felt embarrassed on his behalf just thinking of it. “Otherwise, tomorrow morning, why don’t you dab some powder to cover it?”
Pei Xia knew she meant well. But hearing “powder,” he couldn’t help but think of Xie Wuling’s mocking remarks from before.
“No need. Once inside the exam compound, each person has their own room, no disturbance between us,” Pei Xia said. “After nine days when I come out, the bruising should have faded.”
Hearing that, Shen Yujiao nodded slightly: “Better so. Otherwise, at the palace exam, if you face His Majesty with such injuries, tongues will wag.”
Pei Xia saw her sigh several times in a row. He took her hand into his palm and squeezed lightly. “Yuniang, don’t worry. Just a small injury.”
Feeling the warmth of his palm, Shen Yujiao lifted her eyes, studying him intently: “You didn’t come to the rear courtyard today—was it because of the injury on your face?”
Pei Xia’s thick lashes lowered slightly, barely hiding the trace of embarrassment in his eyes. “Letting you see me like this would only make you worry.”
Shen Yujiao thought to herself—well, now I’ve seen it anyway.
“If you hadn’t come back to the rear courtyard, that’s what would have made me worry,” she said, then suddenly thought of something. “Right—you should fetch the jade roller from my dressing case, the one made of warm jade. I’ll roll it over your bruises, maybe it will help them heal faster.”
Pei Xia wanted to decline, but when he saw the earnest look in her eyes, in the end he rose and went to the huanghuali wood dressing table by the window.
“In the bottom drawer—the red agate one,” Shen Yujiao leaned halfway off the bed to peek. “Yes, that one.”
Pei Xia picked up the little trinket made of gold and jade, and returned to the bedside. “What is this for? I’ve never seen it before.”
“These are women’s boudoir things, how would Langjun know?” Shen Yujiao explained unhurriedly: “Sometimes when waking in the morning, the face is a little puffy. Rolling this over it smooths things out, makes makeup apply better.”
She took the little jade roller, warmed it between her palms, then knelt before him, resting one hand on his shoulder. “Langjun, turn this way.”
Pei Xia did as told, turning to face her.
At such close distance, he could clearly see the fine down on her cheeks, glowing in the warm candlelight like a soft halo.
“I’ll begin,” Shen Yujiao murmured, one hand cupping his face, her brows furrowed in concentration. “If it hurts, Langjun, you must tell me.”
Pei Xia’s gaze flickered, and he answered faintly: “Mn.”
The warm jade roller moved lightly over the bruises. There was a dull, aching soreness, yet the faint fragrance that brushed past with her movements was like a healing balm, with the wondrous power of soothing all pain.
Pei Xia suddenly thought—bearing such bruises wasn’t entirely a bad thing.
“Langjun… are you certain this was from a fall?” Shen Yujiao’s brows knitted tighter, her voice hesitant. “To me, it looks more like you were struck.”
Despite the swelling, she could clearly see that a few of the darker bruises matched the marks from knuckles.
But how could Pei Xia—who was always courteous, refined, and disciplined—possibly get into a fight?
The absurdity of it was no less than the sun rising from the west.
Hearing her question, Pei Xia fell silent.
From that silence, Shen Yujiao sensed something unusual, and pressed again: “Which friend did you meet last night?”
Pei Xia remained silent.
Noting his cool expression, Shen Yujiao pressed her lips together. After a while, she said softly: “I’ve spoken out of turn.”
It must have been his tenderness toward her lately that gave her an illusion—that they could be like ordinary husband and wife, close, open, without secrets between them.
Pei Xia caught the fleeting dimness in her eyes, the way she quickly concealed it. His heart gave a faint pause.
That dimness—he had seen it before.
But back then, he had thought it needless to explain, and so he ignored it.
Looking back now, perhaps leaving it unspoken was exactly what pushed her further away.
“It was Xie Wuling.”
The man’s cool voice sounded within the curtained space.
Shen Yujiao’s hand stilled at once, the jade roller frozen mid-motion. In the silence, the wick popped with a sharp little crack.
“Yuniang?”
Pei Xia lifted his head, one large hand slipping around her waist, his long dark eyes gazing deep into her. “Why did you stop? Are you tired?”
“N-no…”
Shen Yujiao barely came back to herself, quickly lowering her eyes as she continued rolling the jade. “Just… surprised. When did you become friends with him?”
After a pause, she murmured in puzzlement: “And why is he still in Chang’an?”
At this point, Pei Xia no longer concealed it from her, and concisely recounted everything that had happened yesterday.
When Shen Yujiao finished listening, her whole being seemed dazed, her spirit drifting off somewhere unknown. A shadow flickered across Pei Xia’s eyes.
Could it be she was worried about how that scoundrel was faring?
Yes—her heart was biased to the extreme. Even in her dreams, she called out that rogue’s name.
But she ought to understand, she was his wife; in her heart there should only be him.
Pei Xia lifted his hand and grasped that frost-white slender wrist before him.
Shen Yujiao started in surprise: “Langjun, you—”
Before she could finish, the man’s tall figure leaned down over her, and in the next instant, warm thin lips pressed firmly over hers.
Shen Yujiao’s eyes widened in disbelief: “Mm—”
But before the sound had fully escaped, his lips and tongue seized the chance to pry open her teeth and plunge deep.
This kiss was even more overwhelming than the one in the carriage on Lantern Festival night, and with the pillow right behind her this time, it allowed him to kiss her even deeper.
The arm around her waist slid upward to firmly cradle the back of her head, while the hand that gripped her wrist pressed it down beside the pillow. His broad chest bore heavily against her body.
Through the thin fabric, Pei Xia felt that unbelievable softness in his embrace, fuller even than last year.
That softness, together with the sweet fragrance lingering between her lips and teeth, was like a spark igniting long-parched wilderness.
Pei Xia’s eyes darkened further; his long, jointed fingers tangled into her waterfall-like black hair. His high nose brushed against hers, his kiss growing fiercer, as if to devour her whole.
“Lang… Langjun…” Shen Yujiao could feel his unusual, urgent mood. The root of her tongue was numbed from his sucking, her face flushed scarlet, breath nearly stolen away. She lifted her free hand to push him: “Don’t… mm—!”
Her remaining words were swallowed by the kiss.
The heavy sandalwood scent, mingled with the delicate pear-blossom fragrance within the canopy, twined endlessly about them. Who knew how long it lasted? Shen Yujiao only felt her whole body limp, her head hazy, thoughts scattered. At last, the man released her lips and tongue.
Yet his lips did not stop, but trailed along her cheeks, to her earlobes, her neck, her collarbone…
When his teeth tugged at her collar, Shen Yujiao suddenly came back to herself and hastily clutched at it: “No… no, you mustn’t!”
In the dim candlelight, the man before her lifted his face. The usual cool composure was gone, his eyes shadowed, tinged with desire.
Frightened by the heat in his gaze, Shen Yujiao’s heart skipped a beat. Her hand still pressed against his shoulder, her delicate voice trembling: “Langjun, I… I am still in my confinement month.”
And besides, in just a few hours he would be going to sit for the exam—how could he suddenly act so rashly in the dead of night?
Sensing the panic in her brows and eyes, Pei Xia abruptly sobered.
Suppressing the restless heat rising in his belly, he let go of her hand and slowly straightened up. “Forgive me, I lost control.”
Shen Yujiao lay back against the pillow, cheeks burning, breath unsteady, unable to cope with this uncharacteristic scene. She only pulled the brocade quilt over herself, turned her face away, and bit her lip: “It’s late. You should go rest.”
Pei Xia lowered his dark gaze. Seeing her turned inward, only the tip of one flushed ear showing beneath the spill of her hair, his throat bobbed.
After a moment, his voice came husky: “You too—rest early.”
Shen Yujiao did not answer, only kept her back to him. Not until his footsteps faded into the distance did she lift her lashes to glance behind.
The tall figure by the bed was gone.
The heart caught in her throat finally settled. She raised a hand to pat her chest, but at the thought of what had just happened, her heart leapt wildly again.
What had come over him?
Just now he had seemed like another man entirely—truly frightening.
Could it be… he had gone too long without release, and found it too hard to endure?
Clutching her chest, she calmed herself for a long while before her mood steadied somewhat. Yet when she lay down again, a tangle of emotions surged up unbidden—fluster, melancholy, and an indescribable anxiety.
She could not tell what was wrong with her. Was it simply that they had not been close for too long?
—
In the front courtyard study.
Pei Xia leaned back against the bath tub, eyes shut tight, his thoughts restless.
Yesterday’s brawl had already been a loss of decorum.
Today he had actually entertained such thoughts toward his wife still in confinement…
For a long time, Pei Xia let out a heavy sigh.
One grows red near vermilion, black near ink—surely he had spent too much time with Xie Wuling, that scoundrel, and been tainted by his rash and shameless ways.
Fortunately, that lecher would be leaving Chang’an soon. And once he achieved success in the exams, his wife’s family might return to the capital, letting them reunite with Yuniang…
Everything would grow better and better.
As for that rogue’s filthy designs—as long as he drew breath, he would never allow him to succeed.
—
The next morning, at first light, the examinees already shouldered their book baskets and set out for the examination compound.
Even though she had gone to bed late the night before, Shen Yujiao awoke at the first crow of the rooster. She had Bai Ping carry the child to the front courtyard so he could see Pei Xia off.
Bai Ping assented, and soon arrived at the front courtyard. She handed the tightly swaddled infant into Pei Xia’s arms, and passed along Shen Yujiao’s words: “Niangzi says, Langjun, you must focus on your exam in the hall, and not worry about the household. Her health is much improved now, and with Madam Li here in the residence, there is someone to consult in case of need. She and the young master will be waiting at home for your return. Once you finish, she will prepare a full table of wine and dishes to celebrate you.”
After a slight pause, she glanced at the small swaddled bundle: “Niangzi also said, little master is still waiting for you to return from the exam to give him a name.”
Pei Xia lowered his eyes, gaze lingering on the sleeping infant’s face.
Children changed day by day—this child now was completely different from the wrinkled little creature at birth.
Back then, he had hardly believed that such a shriveled, ugly little thing was actually his and Yuniang’s child.
But now, the boy’s brows and eyes resembled him by eight parts, while the forehead and face shape followed Yuniang.
Perhaps it was because he was a son. He thought, if it had been a daughter, she surely would have looked even more like Yuniang.
“Good child.”
Pei Xia lowered his head slightly, voice gentle: “Stay at home and keep your mother company. Once your father returns with honors, I will make it up to you both properly.”
The little one slept soundly, eyes shut tight, only smacking his lips as if savoring a fragrant dream.
The warm breath of spring stirs all in turn—plum blossoms fade, apricots bloom anew.
In the twentieth year of Yuanshou, the spring examinations opened amid brilliant sunshine.
Inside the examination halls, scholars racked their brains and wielded their brushes in earnest; outside the halls, another storm brewed.
Within Xianling Palace.
After hearing Princess Shouan confess her crime, Consort Xian could not contain her shock and fury. She raised her hand and struck Shouan twice across the face: “You… you wretched child! How could I have borne such a scourge as you?!”
Shouan, pampered from birth, had never suffered such beating and scolding—least of all from her usually gentle and dignified royal mother. She froze, clutching her face, eyes wide in disbelief.
But when she met her mother’s gaze, filled with hatred as though wishing to strangle her, she snapped back to herself, and—just as Princess Jinhua had taught her—collapsed to her knees with a thud, weeping bitterly: “Royal Mother, I know I was wrong, I truly know I was wrong. My mind was clouded by pig’s fat; I should never, ever have harbored such wicked thoughts, to come up with such a plan to harm others. Now things have come to this, it wasn’t what I wanted… Royal Mother, believe me, I truly regret it…”
Crying piteously, she crawled on her knees to Consort Xian, clutched her leg tightly, lifted her tear-streaked face, and pleaded: “If I had known this would implicate Royal Mother and Royal Brother, then even if I were beaten to death, I would never have done it.”
At this moment Consort Xian truly felt the urge to kill. All her life she had calculated and guarded against every possibility, yet she had never expected to be stabbed in the back by her own daughter.
It hurt worse than an enemy’s blade.
What enraged her even more was that this fool, if she insisted on scheming, could not at least have done it with some wit—she had even contrived against the very people her mother had dispatched!
Stupid. So stupid it made her chest ache.
Consort Xian collapsed into the huanghuali armchair, her hands gripping the armrests with white knuckles, her chest heaving with wrath. Looking down at the daughter kneeling, clutching her leg, only fueled her anger further.
She closed her eyes—out of sight, out of mind—but her temples throbbed violently.
Where had things gone wrong? All her life she had been patient, cautious, navigating every side—and yet she had given birth to such a fool.
If this idiot truly ruined Jin’er’s grand ambitions… a flash of cruelty crossed Consort Xian’s heart: then this daughter was no daughter of hers.
While such murderous thoughts churned in her, Shouan sobbed and choked out: “Royal Mother, hand your daughter over to the Dali Temple. As long as Royal Mother and Royal Brother’s reputations can be preserved, your daughter is willing to confess.”
At these words, Consort Xian’s eyes flew open.
She scrutinized the young face before her, brows furrowed slightly: “Do you understand? If you are sent to the Dali Temple, your life will be ruined forever.”
How could Shouan not understand? But she also knew that at this point, she could only follow her aunt’s advice to “retreat in order to advance”: “Royal Mother, this matter began with me alone. I must never implicate you and Royal Brother because of me…”
She repeated the words the Princess had taught her, about “putting the greater good above all.”
As Consort Xian listened, a trace of complexity flickered in her eyes. How had this child’s wits suddenly returned?
Foolish she might have been earlier, but this thought for her mother and brother at least showed some sincerity.
After all, she was her daughter. Seeing her cheeks swollen, sprawled on the ground with tears and snot, Consort Xian felt a sliver of unwilling pity.
After a long silence, she rubbed her brow: “Enough crying.”
Princess Shouan stifled her sobs, carefully watching her mother’s expression:
“Ro…Royal..Mo… Mother…”
Consort Xian gazed at her deeply for a long while before finally saying: “When one does wrong, one must bear the consequences. This principle, you must understand.”
Shouan’s tear-dimmed eyes trembled, her face paling. She forced down her fear and whispered: “Yes… your daughter understands…”
“Get up.”
Consort Xian spoke, then turned away without another look. She went to the dressing table, stripped off all her gold hairpins and ornaments, and changed into plain attire.
Shouan stared in confusion: “Royal Mother, what are you…?”
Consort Xian dabbed away the rouge from her lips, pursed them, and cast her a cool glance: “Come with me to the Zichen Palace, to confess to your royal father.”
The lives and fates of all under heaven rested in that one man’s hand.
Right and wrong in this world were nothing but the turn of his thought.
If there was to be a sacrifice, then the value of the “abandoned piece” must be made the greatest it could be.
—
Meanwhile, at Marquis Zhennan’s residence, in the shizi’s study—
The young shizi, Huo Yunchang, dressed in a brocade robe and jade belt, sat in a wide grand master’s chair. Though his figure was small and slight, his face carried a steadiness far beyond his years. His clear, bright eyes fixed directly on the tall man bowing before him. “You’ve really made up your mind?”
“I have.”
Xie Wuling lifted his head, his thin crimson lips curving faintly — the same careless, mocking smile as always. “I know the young shizi is reluctant to let me go, but rest assured — once a soldier of Ningzhou, always a soldier of Ningzhou. I’ll be in Chang’an from now on; we’ll still see each other often. If the young shizi ever needs anything, just give the word.”
Huo Yunchang snorted coldly. “Don’t flatter yourself — who would be reluctant to part with a troublemaker like you!”
“So the young shizi agrees then?” Xie Wuling asked.
“Does it make any difference whether I agree or not?”
Huo Yunchang sat upright, his boyish face holding a forced air of maturity. “The Third Prince appreciates your talents, and you’re willing to follow him into the Northern Command’s Shenwu Army. What can I do — stand in your way and block your bright future?”
The sarcasm in the brat’s words was thick enough to taste. Ripples flickered in Xie Wuling’s peach-blossom eyes, but in the end, he said nothing.
Seeing his silence, Huo Yunchang grew even angrier. Gone was his pretense of adult composure — he burst out, his tone sharp and frustrated: “You think the Third Prince’s favor is a blessing? Before I came back to Chang’an, my grandfather told me again and again — the court’s tides are treacherous and unpredictable. Once I returned, I was to focus on martial study and the classics, keep to myself, avoid frivolous amusement, and, above all, never make friends lightly. Anyone my great-grandmother forbade us to associate with, I must stay away from — and most especially the royal princes! The farther, the better…”
“You have fine martial skills and a good grasp of strategy — why not return to Ningzhou and earn your merit honestly? Why chase lofty ambitions and throw yourself into the Third Prince’s camp? How can your eyes be so short-sighted! Don’t you know His Majesty’s health grows worse with every pill he takes? The two princes are locked in open and secret struggle — when it comes to the end, it’ll be one dead and one alive!”
At that, Huo Yunchang leapt down from the chair and stepped right up to him, lowering his voice. “To choose a master at a time like this — are you stupid? I’m not trying to scare you, Xie Wuling — but you’re going to get yourself killed sooner or later!”
Like his grandfather, Huo Yunchang was one who cherished talent. Especially after these few months traveling from Ningzhou to Chang’an together, he had truly come to regard Xie Wuling as a trusted aide.
He believed that with proper cultivation under Commander Huo Xiao’s hand, Xie Wuling would, in time, become a formidable general of Great Liang.
But instead of earning merit steadily, he now insisted on following the Third Prince into the whirlpool of royal power struggles —
To think such a promising warrior might not die defending the realm on the battlefield, but perish amid palace intrigue — Huo Yunchang could hardly contain his anger. He almost wished he could borrow his grandfather’s dragon-headed whip and thrash some sense into him.
Yet Xie Wuling was not entirely ignorant or blind.
After all, he had been in Chang’an nearly three months now, and being one who could never stay idle, he spent his days talking to people here and there, gathering enough sense of the political currents.
Otherwise, when the Third Prince had first extended his invitation, he wouldn’t have refused outright.
But now — knowing the one who had harmed Shen Yujiao was still hiding in the shadows, and hearing from the Third Prince that this person’s identity was not ordinary — he could no longer feel at ease.
No matter how renowned Pei Shouzhen’s name was, he could not bring himself to entrust Jiao completely to him.
That day of her childbirth was proof enough.
Had he not been there by chance, both Jiaojiao and the child might have been lost.
And what would it matter then, even if he returned to Ningzhou and took Chen Liang’s head, even if he earned more military merit, even if he became a great general — if Jiaojiao were gone, what meaning would any of it have?
All his life, Xie Wuling’s one true dream had been Shen Yujiao.
“Young shizi, I understand everything you’ve said.”
He straightened his back and cupped his hands in salute. “But each man has his own will. My mind is made up. If you could trouble the Commander to pass on a message — tell him Xie Wuling has failed his training and his expectations, but should he ever need me in the future, I will go through fire and water without hesitation.”
Seeing the solemn determination in his expression, Huo Yunchang knew further words were useless.
“…Enough, then.”
The young boy let out a long sigh, then bent down to help him up. “After all, we’ve been master and pupil. I hope your future will be bright — may you achieve all that you desire.”
Even now, the brat couldn’t resist getting the last word.
Xie Wuling laughed, but didn’t argue. Rising, he bowed again. “Then your student will borrow the young master’s auspicious blessing.”
