Spring wind soft as silk, peach and apricot blossoms in full bloom—the newly appointed scholars, in red robes and flowered caps, paraded through the streets on horseback under imperial favor.
That morning, the bustling Suzaku Avenue was even more crowded than usual. The flower boys selling blossoms could hardly keep up—their baskets emptied soon after they were brought out.
People lined the streets, craning their necks, chattering eagerly about this year’s new scholars.
Everyone loves beauty, and so, of course, what they discussed most was the most handsome of them all—the tanhua lang.
“I heard this year’s tanhua actually scored first on the exam—he should’ve been the zhuangyuan—but his looks were so stunning that His Majesty lifted his hand and appointed him tanhua instead!”
“Well, of course! With Hedong’s Pei Xia in the running, how could the tanhua go to anyone else? What’s that poem again—‘Graceful as green bamboo, noble and refined, polished and pure.’ It fits Pei Langjun perfectly.”
“Oh? Is that tanhua lang really as handsome as you say?”
“If you don’t believe it, you’ll see for yourself soon enough! See those private rooms along the street in the wine houses? Normally people don’t start reserving them until March, but ever since word got out that Pei Shouzhen would be sitting for the exam this year, all the good seats were booked before the New Year. Now, a single street-view room’s being resold on the black market for three hundred taels!”
“What, three hundred taels—for just watching the parade? That’s insane!”
“Well, it’s been years since we’ve had such a handsome tanhua lang! Of course people want a good look. It’s a pity though—this Pei Langjun is already married, and I heard he recently became a father. Otherwise, he’d be the most sought-after groom under the list!”
Just as the words fell, the sound of drums and gongs rose from ahead, and the crowd erupted in excitement—
“They’re coming! They’re coming!”
Two rows of soldiers cleared the way. Led by officials in blue ceremonial robes, the new zhuangyuan, bangyan, tanhua, and the rest of the successful scholars all wore red brocade robes, jade belts at their waists, black gauze hats adorned with fresh flowers, and rode their horses proudly down the street in a splendid line.
Even though most of the scholars were ordinary-looking, many already middle-aged, now that they sat high on horseback, receiving the cheers and admiring gazes of the people, the triumph of success lit their faces with a radiant glow. Their spirits were high; they truly looked joyous and proud.
And among them, none shone brighter than the tanhua lang of Hedong, Pei Xia, who rode a white horse.
He too wore a red robe, yet on him it was strikingly elegant—his face as fine as carved jade, his features refined and noble. The robe hung on him with a natural grace, giving off an air of distinction unlike any other.
Unlike the zhuangyuan and bangyan beside him, whose smiles were broad and exuberant, Pei Xia’s expression was calm and composed, the corners of his thin lips just slightly lifted in a faint, graceful smile.
“The tanhua lang is far too handsome!”
The young maidens and wives crowding the roadside flushed red with excitement. Though they knew he was a man beyond their reach, to see such a godlike figure in one’s lifetime was still something to cherish.
Embroidered handkerchiefs, flowers, and scented pouches flew toward him like a shower of snowflakes.
“Pei Langjun! Tanhua lang!”
“Ahhh—he looked this way!”
“Nonsense, he wasn’t looking at you, he was clearly looking over here!”
At the front of the procession, the zhuangyuan Yuan Yuan turned his round, cheerful face and laughed, “Shouzhen, lucky it’s you who’s tanhua this time. If it were me or Brother Zhiyuan, the only thing thrown our way would be rolled eyes.”
Zhuangyuan Yuan Yuan, a man of Huguang in his thirties, was round-headed, round-faced, and round-bellied—pleasant to look at, but far from what anyone would call graceful or handsome.
The bangyan, Fang Zhiyuan, though not plump, was over forty with graying temples—old enough to be a grandfather. He certainly couldn’t take the title of tanhua. Hearing the jest, he stroked his beard and chuckled, “Indeed, Brother Shouzhen truly deserves the title of tanhua.”
Pei Xia smiled lightly. “You two flatter me.”
The zhuangyuan asked, “Has your wife come to see you today?”
“She should be here,” Pei Xia replied, glancing toward a teahouse up ahead—he had reserved a private room there long before this day.
The bangyan laughed. “Of course she’d come! With you so admired by all, if your lady doesn’t keep a close watch, some other woman might just steal you away as her son-in-law! Wouldn’t that be quite the regret—for her husband to be tanhua only to be snatched up?”
Pei Xia merely twitched his lips and said nothing, guiding his horse forward.
When the procession reached the wine house he had booked, he slowly lifted his head and glanced toward a half-open carved window above.
Behind the flower lattice, Bai Ping giggled, “Madam, look! Master’s looking at you!”
Dongxu quickly handed her a basket of flowers. “Madam, hurry, pick one and throw it to your husband!”
Shen Yujiao, having just completed her month of confinement, was going out for the first time—to watch her husband’s red-robed parade. Her heart was full of joy and pride, as though his glory reflected her own.
A husband and wife were one—her husband’s honor was also her dignity.
Seeing her maids so excited, Shen Yujiao couldn’t spoil the mood. Blushing, she picked a soft pink peony, leaned halfway out the window, and threw it toward Pei Xia as he passed.
“Oh no—it’s off a little!”
She let out a small cry of regret—only to see Pei Xia tighten his reins, lean back slightly, and with a swift reach of his long arm, catch the peony neatly in his hand.
“Wow!!!”
The private room and the entire street erupted in gasps of amazement at the elegant, fluid movement.
And then, before everyone’s eyes, the always cool and aloof tanhua lang, who had refused all the flowers and sachets tossed his way, raised that very peony and tucked it into the brim of his black gauze hat.
His long, narrow phoenix eyes lifted slightly, rippling with unmistakable delight. He glanced toward the flower window above—and whatever he saw there made the curve of his lips deepen even more.
When the tanhua lang smiled, he was breathtaking.
Everyone on the street thought so, and all began wondering—who could be behind that flower window, to be so favored by him?
“Madam, your husband’s wearing your flower!”
“And the way he bent back to catch it—so dashing and smooth!”
Bai Ping and Dongxu chattered in excitement beside her, faces glowing from the thrill.
Shen Yujiao sat by the window, her heart pounding as she recalled the look Pei Xia had given her when he caught the flower and raised it to his hat—a gaze bright with unguarded, unmistakable affection.
Affection?
Shen Yujiao pressed her hands to her burning cheeks. It must be the atmosphere—the crowd, the music, the excitement—making her imagine things.
How could Pei Xia… love her?
If there was love, it was surely the respect a husband held for his wife, not the passionate kind between man and woman.
Oh, Shen Yujiao, she scolded herself silently. As a newlywed, it was one thing to be young and foolish, to misplace her heart. But now, with a child already born, she mustn’t indulge in wishful thinking or needless heartache.
The drums and gongs still thundered through the streets.
Meanwhile, in another private room overlooking the procession, Eldest Princess Jinhua sat leisurely behind a fine silk screen, dressed in a robe of deep rose-violet. Watching the elegant young scholar on horseback below, her red lips curved faintly.
“Shouan had good taste,” she said. “This Pei Shouzhen truly has a face women would find hard not to like.”
The senior palace maid behind her dared not reply.
Why Princess Shouan had been married off to Nanzhao—others might not know, but the maid, who had long served by Princess Jinhua’s side, knew all too well.
“What a pity—married already, and such a sentimental fool…”
The Eldest Princess’s lips curved faintly, her tone a mix of lament and disdain. “Sentimental fools—how detestable they are.”
No one in the private room dared to answer.
She didn’t seem to mind. Her gaze slid lazily toward the painter by the window. “Is it done yet?”
The old painter trembled as he replied, “A-almost, Your Highness. Please have a look—is this satisfactory?”
The Eldest Princess glanced at it. On the painting was Pei Xia riding through the streets on horseback. The painter was famed for portraiture—just a few strokes and the young man in red robes seemed to come alive, his bearing elegant and striking.
“Not bad,” the Princess praised, then brushed her sleeve lightly and laughed softly. “Poor little Shouan, trapped in the palace, unable to witness her beloved’s gallant figure riding through the streets. Only I, her kindhearted aunt, would think to have a portrait made for her to feast her eyes upon…”
“I truly am a good aunt.”
She sighed.
The room was silent again, until the Princess drawled lazily, “Why is everyone so quiet?”
At that, a few attendants hastily echoed in trembling voices, “Y-yes, indeed—Your Highness has always been so kind and generous to the younger generation. The princess will surely be deeply grateful when she receives this painting.”
The Princess finally smiled, satisfied.
But when her eyes drifted toward the northern sky, a faint emptiness flickered in their depths.
—
After the horseback parade came the Qionglin Banquet at Qujiang. Pei Xia was now in the full bloom of success, his days brimming with social obligations.
Shen Yujiao didn’t bother herself with his affairs. After watching the parade, she thought, since she was already out, she might as well visit her maternal grandmother, Madam Luo of the Li family, instead of returning home right away.
The last time she had seen her grandmother was on the second day of the New Year—it had been three months since. She had much to say.
The two most important pieces of news were: she had given birth to a child, and the Shen family had been pardoned and could return to the capital.
“Grandmother, I left the house in a hurry today and didn’t bring the baby. When we hold his full-month banquet in two days, you and Grandfather must come to my residence—I’ll let you hold Di Ge’er then, all right?”
Madam Luo was hard of hearing, so Aunt Cheng raised her voice to repeat the words. The old lady finally understood and nodded with a delighted grin. “Good, good, good—bring the little boy, I’ll hold him, I’ll hold him.”
Shen Yujiao continued, “The imperial decree has already been sent to Lingnan. My husband has also dispatched trusted men there to bring Father, Mother, Elder Brother, and Sister-in-law back. At the latest, they should return by New Year’s Eve, and our whole family will be together again.”
Lingnan was far away, with treacherous mountains and rough roads. It took three months for an imperial edict to reach it from Chang’an, and another several months for the family—women, children, and the elderly—to make their way back, even with haste. If someone fell ill on the road, it would delay things further.
So Shen Yujiao set her hopes on New Year’s Eve—if they made it back by then, the year would be complete.
When Madam Luo heard that her youngest daughter’s family could finally return to Chang’an, her eyes filled with tears. “Good, good—it’s wonderful. The Bodhisattva has blessed us!”
Aunt Cheng’s eyes reddened too. Holding the old lady’s hand, she said gently, “So from now on, you must eat well and take your medicine on time. You must keep your health up, or your daughter will be heartsick when she sees you like this.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll eat. No matter how bitter the medicine, I’ll take it.” Madam Luo nodded earnestly, her wrinkled face solemn like a child’s. “I must wait for my Juanniang to come home.”
Shen Yujiao stayed to accompany her grandmother for a while longer, then stepped outside with Aunt Cheng to talk.
Speaking of the full-month banquet, Shen Yujiao said, “My husband has too many banquets lately and hasn’t had a moment’s rest, so we don’t plan to make it grand—just a few family tables to celebrate quietly. When the baby turns one and my parents have returned, then we’ll hold a proper big celebration.”
Aunt Cheng thought for a moment and nodded. “All right. If you need extra hands, just let me know.”
Shen Yujiao smiled. “It’s just a few tables. I can manage.”
“You’ve truly changed since becoming a mother—more composed, steadier.”
Aunt Cheng’s eyes softened with praise. Then she added, “Your husband really is remarkable. Your uncle is good friends with Scholar Wang from the Hanlin Academy—he told me yesterday that your husband’s exam essay was outstanding. His Majesty praised it highly, saying he’d found a future Grand Councillor among the younger generation. This time His Majesty directly appointed him to the Hanlin Academy as a fifth-rank Reader-Scholar!”
The Hanlin Academy held little actual power, but its scholars served close to the emperor—an elite circle. Even high-ranking officials treated them with respect.
And now Pei Xia, at just twenty-three, had been made a fifth-rank scholar—proof of Emperor Zhaoning’s deep favor.
“I haven’t yet read that essay,” Shen Yujiao said softly. “I should find it and take a look.”
“Why bother finding it? Just have him recite it to you when you’re home!” Aunt Cheng laughed behind her hand. “You’re the only one in the world who gets the tanhua scholar himself to give a private lecture.”
Shen Yujiao blushed and scolded lightly, “Auntie…”
Knowing her niece was shy, Aunt Cheng let the matter drop.
They chatted for a while longer until the sky began to darken. Thinking of the baby at home, Shen Yujiao took her leave and rode back to her residence.
That night, Pei Xia did not return from his banquet.
The next day at noon, he came home and went straight to Shen Yujiao’s chambers, sleeping the whole day through.
When he finally woke, he had Jinglin move all his daily belongings from the study to the rear courtyard.
Shen Yujiao was taken aback.
Pei Xia said, “Since your confinement month has passed, there’s no need for us to live apart anymore.”
Reasonable and well-founded—there was no way to refute it.
So Qiao Momo had no reason to stop it. She only summoned Doctor Lin from Yonghe Hall to take Shen Yujiao’s peace pulse.
After taking her pulse, Doctor Lin said to Shen Yujiao, “Madam’s pulse is calm and steady, there’s no serious issue—just some lingering weakness of qi and blood. You’ll need to nourish yourself well and rest for some time.”
Shen Yujiao thanked them, and after that, Doctor Lin called Pei Xia into the adjoining room and reminded him in a low voice, “Your wife has not yet fully recovered from childbirth. You must wait at least eighty-one days before resuming marital relations. Otherwise, it will harm her body.”
Pei Xia had read a few medical texts himself and knew that women needed careful recuperation after giving birth. Hearing the doctor’s special warning, he took it to heart.
He had thought that self-restraint would not be difficult. Yet that very night, with his wife’s soft body nestled in his arms, breathing in the faint fragrance of her skin and hair, a heat began to surge uncontrollably through him—
What used to be easy to control suddenly became impossible.
Somewhere deep within, a dark cavern had opened up, where countless desires snarled and clamored, demanding to be fed.
But reason told him—no.
At least, not now.
Yuniang had suffered to bear his child—how could he, for his own desire, disregard her well-being? That would make him no better than a beast.
Yet, even with all his restraint, Shen Yujiao could still feel it—from his burning-hot embrace, from the tight arm circling her waist—that he was suppressing something fierce.
More than once, she almost said, “Why don’t you… take a maid instead?”
But the words never made it past her lips.
In the end, she simply couldn’t bear it.
Fortunately, April brought busy days. Pei Xia officially assumed his post and went to the Hanlin Academy by mid-month. Shen Yujiao’s confinement period had ended, and she could move about freely again. Now she was the wife of the new top-ranking scholar, her family had been pardoned by imperial decree, and everyone with sharp eyes could see that her husband’s future was boundless.
So even families that had never interacted with her before sent invitations—asking her to attend banquets and flower-viewing gatherings.
Each evening, Shen Yujiao would ask Pei Xia which families were appropriate to associate with and which she should politely decline, then reply to the invitations accordingly.
Thus her days passed in an orderly, pleasant busyness. Before she knew it, late April arrived; the weather grew warm, and the heavy brocade bed curtains were replaced with airy mosquito-proof gauze.
That afternoon, Shen Yujiao met with Pei Yi to visit the Jinxiu Pavilion together, intending to pick some fashionable fabrics for summer clothes.
After browsing through several bolts, they settled on two lengths of lotus-patterned snow satin—when they suddenly overheard a lively conversation from a few well-dressed women across the room.
“…Are you sure that’s true?”
“My own nephew told me! How could it be false? Scouts were sent out a week ago, and yesterday another six hundred soldiers were dispatched. They’ve completely surrounded Little Peach Mountain—sealed it tight! The locals within fifty li are being relocated, and anyone who doesn’t move within three days will be jailed for obstructing military operations.”
“Good heavens, if that’s true, then it must be real! Tsk, tsk—a whole gold mine! That soldier’s struck it rich; he’ll surely rise several ranks!”
“Exactly. They say the Shenwu Army went there originally to eliminate bandits, and somehow that soldier got lucky and discovered a gold mine. Once it was reported up the chain, His Majesty was overjoyed.”
“Well, who wouldn’t be? A gold mine! If it were me, I’d camp there and never leave.”
“Hahaha! You rascal—you’d be chased off by the Shenwu soldiers waving their blades!”
Their loud laughter carried clearly to where Shen Yujiao and Pei Yi stood.
Pei Yi asked softly, curious, “Did they say—a gold mine was found? Sister-in-law, where is this Little Peach Mountain?”
Shen Yujiao shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Born and raised in Chang’an, she was familiar with Mount Li, Mount Hua, Mount Zhongnan, Mount Taibai, and Mount Lianhua— but she had never heard of a Little Peach Mountain.
However, within just a few days, she would learn where it was.
News of the gold mine discovered at Little Peach Mountain in northern Lintong spread through Chang’an—together with the announcement that the Third Prince had been granted the title Chang.
As it turned out, at the end of March, the Shenwu Army under the Third Prince’s supervision had been ordered to suppress bandits.
During that campaign, a low-ranking soldier noticed glints of gold on Little Peach Mountain. On inspection, it turned out to be a gold mine, which he promptly reported to his superior.
The news climbed the ranks, until finally the Third Prince personally informed Emperor Zhaoning. The emperor sent scouts to verify, and when it was confirmed that the unremarkable hill not only produced cinnabar but was indeed a rich gold mine, he was overjoyed.
The imperial treasury had been drained by the construction of the Shenghua Tower of the Benevolent Mother two years prior, followed by the Huainan rebellion and floods in the Heluo region. The discovery of a gold mine was like timely rain—it eased the emperor’s greatest concern.
He immediately conferred a princely title upon the Third Prince, naming him “Chang Wang,” and granted him a thousand households in fief.
The soldier who found the gold mine was promoted to Changshi of the Shenwu Guard.
When Emperor Zhaoning learned the man’s name, he even joked in high spirits, “Xie Wuling—‘Wuling,’ meaning ‘without hills.’ Now that he’s found a mountain of gold, indeed, there are no hills he cannot conquer.”
Thanks to that casual praise, the once-unknown soldier’s name quickly spread through the capital.
Everyone was talking about him—the man who found the gold mine, a soldier named Xie Wuling.
No hill he could not cross—including one made of gold.
When Shen Yujiao heard this from her maid Xiaying, she sat frozen at the edge of the couch, full of disbelief.
Wasn’t Xie Wuling supposed to have returned to Ningzhou?
How had he ended up in the Shenwu Army?
And on top of that, he’d even discovered a gold mine?
He… he had that kind of ability?!
That night, when Pei Xia returned and saw her hesitant expression, he could already guess what she wanted to ask.
After all, the news was spreading everywhere — there was no way to hide it even if he wanted to. Pretending not to know would only look deliberate.
“I don’t know the details,” Pei Xia finally said after a pause, his lips pressed in a tight line before he exhaled softly, “but he got lucky.”
Of the three hundred Shenwu soldiers sent to suppress the bandits on Xiaotao Mountain, it just so happened to be Xie Wuling who discovered the gold mine.
Shen Yujiao fell silent.
Luck was such a mysterious thing — no one could ever predict it.
While the husband and wife sat quietly across from each other, elsewhere, at the Third Prince’s residence, Xie Wuling was beaming as he looked at the new official uniform sent from the court.
“As expected of the Bureau of Weaving’s work — this material, this embroidery, truly exquisite.”
In Great Liang, officials of the third rank and above wore purple; fourth and fifth ranks wore crimson; sixth and seventh wore green; eighth and ninth wore blue. Wives followed their husband’s color rank.
Beyond the color, even the patterns and belts were strictly regulated. Officials of third rank and above were allowed garments with falcons holding auspicious herbs, wild geese carrying ribbons, and robes of peacock-patterned silk, with gold and jade belts. Fourth and fifth ranks were allowed yellow silk with intertwined branches and gold belts. Sixth rank and below wore small medallion-patterned silk or plain silk, with silver belts. Eighth rank and below wore belts of bronze.
Now, laid neatly before Xie Wuling was a dark-green robe of small medallion-patterned silk and a silver belt engraved with faint designs.
“This color…”
Xie Wuling frowned as he touched the fabric. “Red still looks better on me.”
Jiaojiao had once said that he looked handsome in red.
But only fifth-rank officials could wear crimson robes — and that Pei Shouzhen happened to be a fifth-rank scholarly attendant, allowed crimson robes and a golden belt.
Thinking of how even after making such a great contribution, he still ranked below that pale-faced scholar, Xie Wuling’s excitement over the new robe dimmed.
The Third Prince, seeing his expression, laughed. “Now, now — don’t be greedy. For someone your age to already be a sixth-rank changshi, that’s rare enough!”
Xie Wuling muttered, “That Pei fellow is about my age, yet he’s already fifth rank.”
The Third Prince almost blurted out, ‘Pei Shouzhen’s pedigree and yours are hardly comparable’ — but he swallowed the words. He wouldn’t say something that crushed his own supporter’s morale. Besides, though Xie Wuling came from humble roots with no family background, his luck was extraordinary. Who would have thought that a bandit raid would lead to such a major discovery?
Smiling, the Third Prince told him, “Remember — if anyone asks how you found it, you’ll say that a celestial being guided you at midnight, you saw golden light, dug into the ground, and offered the treasure to His Majesty. Understood?”
Xie Wuling’s eyelids twitched. These people really could spin a story.
In truth, he had simply gone into the back hills, stomach rumbling, to catch a wild pheasant for dinner. After catching one, he noticed some wild herbs — garlic sprouts — growing nearby.
Feeling pleased, he thought, Wouldn’t it smell wonderful to stuff some of that into the roast chicken?
So he started digging for the garlic sprouts — and unexpectedly, the mud clinging to his sword hilt sparkled with tiny gold flecks.
He suddenly remembered what Sixth Master Chang once told him about being tricked into mining as a youth: “Copper mines grow purplish copper grass, silver mines grow wild green onions, gold mines grow garlic, tin and bronze mines grow wild ginger…”
He hadn’t been sure if that was true, nor did he dare admit that he’d snuck out to hunt, so when he returned to the camp in Chang’an, he casually mentioned it to the Third Prince — who sent men to check.
Who would’ve guessed they’d really strike gold?
Emperor Zhaoning now believed the Third Prince to be a bringer of fortune, the Third Prince believed Xie Wuling to be a bringer of fortune, and Xie Wuling believed it was Shen Yujiao’s blessed mouth — that she had named him well.
Now he was an official.
This deep-green robe was a hundred times finer than the dark uniform he’d worn back in Jinling.
As he stroked the delicate silk, Xie Wuling pondered how he could let Jiaojiao see him dressed in his official robes.
Should he pay another visit while Pei Shouzhen was out?
No — that would tarnish Jiaojiao’s reputation. And who knew if that pale-faced scholar would go mad again?
That last punch from the pretty-boy still made his ribs ache when he thought of it.
Seeing his hesitation, the Third Prince chuckled. “That’s easy. If you can’t get in, she’ll surely go out. The Dragon Boat Festival’s coming — on the fifth of May, at Qujiang Pond, there’ll be dragon boat races. The liveliest event of the year. Go stake out a spot — you might just have a fateful encounter.”
