The weather was calm, the day warm, spring sleep lingering and tender. Inside the brocade canopy, the couple slept on till past noon.
The wet nurse, holding the young master, asked Qiao Momo whether to wait for the Madam to feed him, or feed him herself.
But Qiao Momo only stood with arms folded, staring at the tightly closed door, face dark, saying nothing.
No propriety, truly no propriety.
It was one thing for the lady, but the Lord had no sense of restraint either.
What good man would, while his wife was still in confinement, go to her room and spend the night? Utterly lacking in decorum.
If word of this spread outside, no one would call it conjugal affection. They would only say the lady was a bewitching wanton, ignorant of proper conduct; that she could not serve her husband well, nor add two maidservants to his rooms, and even during her confinement could not stop clinging to her Langjun. What sort of dignity of a household’s mistress was that?
“You go knock,” Qiao Momo finally said. “Say the child is hungry, and ask whether the Madam will feed him.”
She glanced at the sky—the bright afternoon sun glittered on the blue tiles, like flowing gold.
The young couple truly could sleep. She sighed inwardly, only hoping they would behave themselves. The Madam mustn’t do such things now—it would harm her body.
The wet nurse, having received Qiao Momo’s instructions, went to knock on the door.
Inside the bedchamber, where the air was still heavy with lingering fragrance, Shen Yujiao heard the noise outside. She struggled to open her eyes and tried to get up, but the arm around her waist tightened. Above her head came the man’s slightly hoarse, magnetic voice: “Why must they bother you with such a trivial matter?”
Only then did Shen Yujiao realize—there was still a man lying beside her.
All drowsiness vanished instantly. Seeing the bright daylight filtering through the bed curtains, she belatedly felt embarrassed and pushed at his arm. “Langjun, it’s already afternoon. You should get up.”
“There’s nothing urgent today,” Pei Xia murmured. He had woken as well, though he didn’t open his eyes—just lowered his head, nestling briefly against the curve of her neck.
Outside, the wet nurse called again.
Shen Yujiao faintly caught Qiao Momo’s voice too and more or less guessed what it was about.
“Then Langjun may go on sleeping. I’ll get up first.”
The arm around her waist did not loosen in the slightest. His clear, gentle voice carried a trace of sleepy languor. “Stay with me a little longer.”
Hearing the warmth in his tone, Shen Yujiao bit her lip. “No, I… I have to feed the baby. What if he’s hungry?”
The man beside her was silent for a few breaths. “You’re feeding him yourself?”
Shen Yujiao’s cheeks flushed as she hummed an acknowledgment. “Not all the time—just once a day at this hour. Momo says nursing him myself makes him closer to me.”
“No wonder.”
“Eh?”
“Nothing.”
Pei Xia lowered his gaze, letting it rest briefly on her gentle features before finally releasing her waist. “Go, then.”
She didn’t know what he meant by “no wonder,” but since he’d agreed to let her go, Shen Yujiao quickly sat up.
Usually the wet nurse would bring the baby to her bedside for feeding, but with Pei Xia still lying there today, she was too shy to ask him to leave. Just as she was about to get down from the foot of the bed, he also rose.
“Langjun isn’t sleeping anymore?”
Pei Xia said, “No.”
He never had the habit of lazing in bed—he’d only wanted to linger beside her a bit longer.
“Go about your business; don’t mind me.”
Leaving those words behind, Pei Xia got up fully dressed, went into the side room, and called for the servants to bring in water.
Soon, the wet nurse brought in the baby. Pei Xia motioned for her to come closer and took a look—compared to before the exams, the child was noticeably plumper and fairer.
“Little glutton,” he said with a quiet laugh, gently pinching the baby’s cheek. Then his tone cooled back to its usual calm. “Take him inside.”
The wet nurse had kept her eyes lowered the whole time. Upon hearing the order, she hurriedly carried the baby into the inner room.
Although Shen Yujiao knew Pei Xia wouldn’t come in, she still dropped one side of the bed curtain before unfastening her robe to nurse the child.
“Was Qiao Momo outside just now?” she asked softly.
The wet nurse nodded. “Yes.”
Shen Yujiao sighed inwardly. She would probably be lectured again later. Qiao Momo was good in every way—except that she was overly strict. Shen Yujiao hadn’t minded it before; that was simply how great households were. But lately, she sometimes found the rules suffocating.
After the baby had finished feeding, the wet nurse carried him out.
Shen Yujiao lowered her nursing wrap and was just about to call a maid in to help her dress when she heard footsteps behind the curtain.
Her hands paused on the ties. Looking up, she saw Pei Xia coming in—freshly washed, hair bound with a jade clasp, dressed in a simple blue robe. His face was as refined as carved jade—
The bruises from ten days ago had already faded; he’d regained his fair, flawless complexion.
“The child’s grown a bit again,” he said as he came to the bedside.
Snapped out of her thoughts, Shen Yujiao hastily replied, “Yes,” tying her sash quickly and covering her collar. “The wet nurse says babies grow fastest at this stage.”
When she finished speaking, he didn’t respond. His gaze had fallen on a small handkerchief beside the bed—
A pinkish embroidered kerchief, stained with a suspicious damp mark.
Her face flushed red. Pretending to lift the bed curtain, she quickly stuffed the nursing cloth under the pillow.
“Why doesn’t Langjun spend more time with the baby? You’ve been in the examination hall so long—don’t you miss him?”
Realizing what that kerchief was used for, Pei Xia’s eyes darkened slightly. He turned his face aside. “I do.”
He missed the child—but even more often, he thought of her.
“Has Langjun decided on a name for the baby yet?”
Shen Yujiao, now properly dressed, went to the carved huanghuali wardrobe, took out a light spring robe, and began to put it on herself.
Pei Xia sat down at the bed’s edge and poured himself a cup of tea. “I’ve thought of a few characters, but can’t decide which one fits best.”
“Any word Langjun chooses must surely be a good one.”
“Does Yuniang have any ideas?” Pei Xia asked.
Shen Yujiao’s hands stilled for a moment as she smoothed her sleeve, then lowered her head and continued dressing. “Whatever Langjun chooses will do.”
Seeing her momentary hesitation, Pei Xia mused aloud, “You are the child’s mother—you carried him ten months and risked your life to bring him into the world. The name should follow your heart.”
Shen Yujiao was silent for a moment, then shook her head. “Langjun should decide.”
“Is there something you’re worried about?”
“…”
Being too perceptive wasn’t always a blessing.
But seeing his steady gaze fixed on her, she sighed inwardly, dipped a finger into the tea, and on the table wrote a single character.
The brushstroke was elegant and clear—she had written one upright, graceful character: Di.
Pei Xia pondered aloud, “Is it from ‘the blossoms of the tangdi tree’ or from ‘dignified and decorous’?”
“The first meaning,” she replied softly.
“It’s a good character.” Pei Xia nodded, then smiled faintly at her. “Since you thought of such a fine name, why hide it instead of telling me?”
Shen Yujiao lowered her lashes. After a pause, she confessed, “When I was adrift in Jinling, I didn’t yet know I was pregnant—it was Xie Wuling who discovered it and told me.”
Pei Xia had never asked about her days in Jinling with Xie Wuling, and she had never spoken of them.
“…When I learned I was with child, my first thought was to get rid of it.”
As soon as she said this, she clearly saw Pei Xia’s expression freeze. She knew these words would be unpleasant to hear, yet they were the truth. “I was a lone woman, unable to flee for my life while carrying two children. The child came at the wrong time—if born, he would only suffer with me.”
“Yuniang,” Pei Xia said, reaching for her hand.
Shen Yujiao did not pull away, letting him hold it, but her tone remained calm, as if recounting something from another life. “It was Xie Wuling who persuaded me to keep the child. He said he was willing to care for us both, and he gave the two children names—Xie Tian and Xie Di.”
At this, Pei Xia finally understood where that di character came from.
“So,” his dark eyes narrowed slightly, unreadable, “you wish to use the name Xie Wuling chose—for our child?”
“If not for him, the child would not exist at all.”
Though she knew she shouldn’t say it, Shen Yujiao drew a slow breath and met his gaze. “Since you asked me to name him, I’ll use this di character. If you’re unwilling, then choose another yourself—I’ll have no objection.”
Pei Xia said nothing. He only tightened his grip on her hand and stared at her for a long moment before speaking. “Yuniang, tell me truthfully—do you choose this name out of gratitude to Xie Wuling… or because…”
His hand clenched harder without realizing it. Shen Yujiao frowned slightly. “Langjun, since I followed you back, I’ve already decided to leave the past behind.”
In her heart, she knew clearly—Pei Xia was her husband.
As for Xie Wuling…
He was her benefactor, and could only ever be that.
“Langjun, you’re hurting me.”
Pei Xia started and released her hand. Seeing the red marks marring her pale skin, guilt flickered across his face. “Forgive me.”
“It’s nothing.” Shen Yujiao drew back her hand and smeared away the half-dried character on the table. “Pretend I never said it. You decide the child’s name.”
It was only a small matter—she didn’t want needless discord between them.
“Since it’s a name born of kindness,” Pei Xia said quietly, “then we’ll go with it—Di it is.”
He dipped a finger in water and wrote two more characters on the table: “Given name: Pei Di . Courtesy name: Jingning.”
“Jingning — serene as spring; tangdi — blossoms together, blessings flourishing side by side.”
It was a father’s heartfelt blessing and hope for his son.
Shen Yujiao hadn’t expected him to agree so easily. Pei Xia, seeing her surprise, lifted an eyebrow slightly. “So astonished?”
Before she could answer, he said, “I don’t like him, it’s true. But I can’t deny—had he not intervened at the start of the month, you and the child would likely have perished by that wicked woman’s hand.”
Besides, di was not his di. The meaning of “tangdi blossoms in harmony” pleased him greatly.
It even made him begin to look forward to their next child—boy or girl, the name could begin with Tang.
Shen Yujiao had no idea his thoughts had wandered so far. She was still caught in surprise that the baby’s name had been settled just like that.
Seeing that their talk had drifted, Pei Xia steadied himself and gestured for her to sit. “There’s something I must tell you.”
His expression turned solemn. Though Shen Yujiao wanted to wash up first, she sat beside him. “What is it?”
Pei Xia hesitated briefly, then slowly recounted how Princess Shouan had instigated Huang Momo’s actions.
Shen Yujiao froze, her willow brows knitting together as an old memory surfaced—
Two years ago, during the Mid-Autumn banquet at the palace, she had attended with her mother, Madam Li. She had been eating crab delicately, dipping it in vinegar, when she suddenly felt a gaze fall directly upon her from above.
Thinking she had eaten too heartily and drawn notice, she looked up—only to see Princess Shouan staring at her expressionlessly.
Their eyes met, and the princess’s lips twitched slightly before she turned her face away.
At the time, Shen Yujiao had been puzzled, wondering whether the princess disdained her for eating three crabs in a row.
But the palace crabs were large, fat, and free of fishy odor—better than any she’d ever had outside. And besides, she hadn’t touched the ones in the princess’s bowl, so what right had the princess to sneer?
The mystery from two years ago was now clear at last.
She hadn’t eaten the princess’s crabs—but the princess had set her sights on the man beside her pillow.
This—this…
Shen Yujiao pressed her lips together and lifted her gaze toward Pei Xia’s unfairly handsome face.
Sigh. A beauty who brings calamity.
Pei Xia could feel the complex look she cast him. His heart tightened, and he clasped her hand again. “I know this case ended hastily—it’s unjust to you and the child, and my anger hasn’t subsided either. But this involves the royal family; His Majesty has already decreed it, and there’s no room left to maneuver…”
“Langjun, you needn’t say more.”
Shen Yujiao’s lashes lifted. The afternoon sunlight fell warmly across her calm, gentle face. “I understand the difficulty.”
That was the imperial family — the Emperor’s own daughter…
What power in this world could be greater than that of the royal house?
From the very start of the Shen family’s unjust case, she had already understood: in this world, right and wrong, black and white — all depended on the whim of those in power.
Throughout history, in every dynasty, which common people had ever truly received justice?
That utopia of equality and fairness for all — perhaps it existed within the lines of the Book of Rites, or in Tao Yuanming’s Peach Blossom Spring, or perhaps it would come to pass one day, thousands of years hence — but certainly not here, not now, not in Great Liang, under Emperor Zhaoning’s reign.
Pei Xia saw the calm darkness of her eyes roiling with hatred and helplessness, and a tight, suffocating ache rose in his chest.
“Yuniang.”
He drew her into his arms. “Bear with it, for now.”
His lips brushed her ear, his voice low and intimate — the posture was that of a husband whispering sweet words, yet his tone was deep and cold, a quiet vow: “Good and evil will reap their due in time.”
Shen Yujiao’s heart trembled; she gripped his hand and frowned. “Langjun, don’t do anything rash.”
“Don’t worry. I know my limits.”
Pei Xia patted her shoulder gently, but the dark depths of his eyes were clouded with shadow and chill resolve.
It was only yesterday that he fully realized — a man may be full of knowledge and famed as a gentleman, yet it was but a date of the Eastern Sea: fair in name, hollow in core. Only power in one’s own hands could truly protect those one wished to protect.
When that day came — what would a princess or a duke matter then?
A wise ruler makes a virtuous minister; but if the Second Prince was not wise enough, then Pei Shouzhen need no longer cling to the ideal of being one.
—
That spring in March, Chang’an was especially lively.
Barely had the Shangsi Festival’s spring outing passed when the triennial spring imperial examinations began. Just a few days after the exams ended, the Dali Temple publicly announced the cause of death for the palace midwife — guilt weighing on her heart, she had taken her own life.
As the townsfolk were still abuzz over this case, the very next day came another piece of news from the palace: Princess Shouan was to be married off to Nanzhao.
An imperial wedding was far more interesting than the death of a midwife. Soon, every street and alley of Chang’an was filled with gossip.
“But Nanzhao is a land of southern barbarians! How could His Majesty bear to marry the princess to such a desolate, remote place? Is she not his own daughter?”
“Hush, don’t talk nonsense. Princess Shouan is the Second Prince’s full sister — both born of Consort Xian.”
“Consort Xian only has this one daughter — and she’s willing to marry her so far away? The other two princesses’ mothers weren’t even high in rank, and they both married within Chang’an. With her status, could she not easily find a fine husband here?”
“The Emperor’s daughters never lack suitors. But I heard that Nanzhao’s situation is unstable. The old king is near death, and his sons are fighting for the throne. By marrying the princess to the eldest prince, it shows the court’s stance — that after the old king dies, the eldest prince will succeed.”
“Ah, so that’s the reason! No wonder. Consort Xian truly lives up to her name — so selfless for peace under heaven, willing even to sacrifice her own daughter. Remarkable!”
“Indeed. The Second Prince she raised is known for his virtue and benevolence, and now Princess Shouan also shows such understanding, willing to marry far away…”
Thus the people gossiped idly in the markets.
Meanwhile, in the palace — the same Princess Shouan they praised as “wise and self-sacrificing” was sitting collapsed on the ground, her face haggard, her eyes red and swollen, tears nearly spent, staring blankly into space.
“Your Highness, the floor is cold. Please, get up.”
A Momo from Consort Xian’s household could not bear to watch. She went forward to help her up, saying softly, “The imperial decree has been issued — there can be no change now. Niang Niang has instructed that you remain in the palace and study the Nanzhao tongue, its customs and etiquette. That way, after the wedding next year, you can adapt quickly.”
“Momo, Momo….” Shouan clutched the woman’s hands tightly, shaking her head in disbelief. “Royal Mother can beat me, she can punish me — but how could she send me to a place like that? That’s Nanzhao! It’s so far, so far away!”
From Chang’an to Nanzhao — it was a journey of more than half a year.
And rumor had it that Nanzhao was a land of coarse, uncivilized barbarians — men with shorn hair and tattooed faces, ignorant of Han customs and rites, feeding on insects and vermin… How could she go to such a place?
If she went, she might never return to Chang’an again — how could she ever live to see the “future compensation” the Eldest Princess had promised her?
“Your Highness, don’t blame your royal mother. You committed a grave offense this time — she’s in a most difficult position.” The Momo helped her to the couch, sighing as she saw the girl’s face pale with grief and fear. “Don’t torment yourself. As a princess, you won’t be treated poorly in Nanzhao. And if the eldest prince ascends the throne, you’ll become queen — the queen of Nanzhao.”
Shouan sobbed, “Let whoever wants that cursed title have it! I don’t want it! I’d rather shave my head and become a nun in Chang’an than go to that dreadful place!”
“You’re speaking like a child again, Your Highness.” The Momo shook her head — she knew this was too much for the princess to accept in one blow.
But Consort Xian’s mind was already made up — she intended to send away this troublesome daughter as far as possible.
As a mother, of course she wished her daughter to live — and if she could live with honor as the Queen of Nanzhao, all the better.
But as a mother, too, she would never allow this daughter to become the stumbling block that dragged her and her son down.
Turning that useless stone into something of value — sending her to Nanzhao would both quell this wave of trouble, give Pei Shouzhen an acceptable explanation, and earn Consort Xian a reputation for wisdom and virtue.
If Shouan proved capable and managed to establish herself in Nanzhao, it would serve as an advantage for the Second Prince.
If she was not capable — if she failed to endure and either perished or was ruined — then that, too, would count as her final contribution as a princess of the realm, as a daughter, and as a sister.
—
When Xie Wuling heard the news in the army that Princess Shouan was to be married far away, his only reaction was a cold, derisive laugh.
Had the Third Prince not repeatedly warned him, “You are not to cause trouble at this time. If you act now to vent your personal hatred, not even the King of Heaven himself could save you.”
— Xie Wuling would have already sharpened his blade that very night, waiting for that d*mn princess to step out of the palace so he could cut her down with two strokes, rather than letting her enjoy the glory of a grand wedding.
His Jiaojiao hadn’t worn a phoenix crown, nor ridden in a bridal procession of ten miles of red silk — so what right did that wretched princess have to such pomp?
But the Third Prince’s hand had pressed hard upon his shoulder, his expression grave.
“I know you hate her. But a gentleman’s revenge need not be rushed — ten years is not too late. Endure for now. Once I… once I defeat that second brother of mine, will we not have our chance to settle accounts? Rest assured — when that time comes, I will have Shouan captured for you. Whether you slice her to pieces, throw her into a brothel, or even cut off her nose, dig out her eyes, and turn her into a human swine — that will be your choice.”
At those words, Xie Wuling frowned deeply.
For a moment, he couldn’t decide which phrase unsettled him more — “a gentleman’s revenge ten years is not too late,” “throw her into a brothel,” or “turn her into a human swine.”
It was one thing for him to harbor hatred and want revenge — but that d*mn princess was still, after all, the Third Prince’s half-sister, sharing the same father.
He had long heard that within the imperial family there was no true kinship — yet seeing such cruelty with his own eyes still sent a faint chill crawling up his spine.
The feeling soon passed, though. He had no time to concern himself with royal feuds. With the spring examinations concluded, Pei Shouzhen’s time in the spotlight was fast approaching, and Xie Wuling had no intention of sitting idle.
As soon as his injuries were mostly healed, he volunteered to accompany a detachment of the Shenwu Army to Lintong to suppress bandits.
To him, killing one or two bandits — however many he could — was better than staying in camp, drinking and boasting with the spoiled sons of noble families sent here under the excuse of “training.”
In late March, Xie Wuling, newly assigned to the southern division of the Shenwu Army, marched out of Chang’an’s Vermilion Bird Gate with a 300-man escort troop.
That very same day, Pei Yi, fifth daughter of the Pei family’s third branch from Hedong, arrived in Chang’an after a ten-day journey from Luoyang — riding in a crimson bridal sedan, her procession adorned with ten miles of red silks.
As her elder cousin from the main branch, Pei Xia himself rode out of the city to welcome her.
Before the formal welcoming ceremony the next day, Pei Yi was to spend the night at the Pei residence in Yongning Ward.
The festive procession, bright in red and green ribbons, entered the city amid laughter and cheer. Pei Xia, dressed in a cool blue robe with a jade pendant at his waist, rode at the head of the bridal sedan.
Meanwhile, another procession was leaving the city gates — three hundred Shenwu soldiers in neat formation. Among them, Xie Wuling walked beside his horse, wearing soft armor beneath a red robe, long blade at his waist.
Perhaps it was fate’s strange irony — even among hundreds of armored men in identical uniforms, Pei Xia instantly spotted that hated face in the crowd. Shock flickered briefly in his eyes.
How had that scoundrel gotten into the Shenwu Army?
Xie Wuling, from afar, also recognized Pei Xia. His lips curled, his expression dripping with disdain.
That pale-faced pretty boy — he truly didn’t know how to keep a low profile. Parading through broad daylight, riding that massive white horse, strutting about like a peacock, even using a bridal procession as his accompaniment — did he fear no envy?
Just look — all the young ladies and married women lining the street were practically glued to him with their eyes.
Apparently, the lesson from the Princess Shouan affair hadn’t been enough. He was still out flaunting his face, attracting bees and butterflies. Once Xie Wuling saw his Jiaojiao again, he was going to tell her all about it.
The two men met eyes briefly as their processions passed — not a word was exchanged, yet the air between them was thick with gunpowder.
When they finally brushed past one another, one of Xie Wuling’s comrades nudged him with a grin.
“That gentleman was certainly handsome, but did you have to stare for so long?”
“Who was staring?” Xie Wuling snapped. “And anyway — even if he’s handsome, is he more handsome than me?”
If anyone else had said that, they would have been scolded — Go take a piss and look at yourself in the reflection!
But faced with Xie Wuling’s striking features, his comrade could only choke — because, truth be told, the man really was that handsome.
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