By the fifth month, the breeze already carried traces of summer heat.
On the Dragon Boat Festival, the annual races began as always. The muddy waters of the Wei River alternated between calm and churning waves. Along the banks, colorful banners fluttered, silken gowns glimmered, and crowds surged shoulder to shoulder in cheerful noise.
Amid the lively scene, Pei Xia stood beside the carriage, holding a swaddled infant, and reached out his hand toward Shen Yujiao. “Careful, slow down.”
Shen Yujiao, wearing a veiled hat, glimpsed through the fluttering white gauze at the throngs of people in the distance. Her eyes sparkled with delight. “So many people!”
“You didn’t see this many in previous years?”
“Not exactly.” With his support, Shen Yujiao stepped down steadily and smiled, her eyes curving like crescents. “It’s just that every time I see the dragon boat races, I can’t help saying the same thing.”
Pei Xia could tell she was in good spirits.
It always seemed that whenever they went out together, his wife became a different person — beneath the composed, dignified exterior of a Madam lived a playful, curious young woman.
It made him wonder—before the Shen family’s downfall, what had that sheltered young lady of the Shen household been like?
They had been betrothed since childhood, yet in the past sixteen years, he had never once met his fiancée—
No, perhaps they had met once, long ago.
“Langjun, what are you thinking about?”
His wife’s gentle voice pulled him from his thoughts. Pei Xia lowered his gaze to find Shen Yujiao looking up at him with clear, dark eyes. “Let me hold the baby. You’ve been carrying him this whole time.”
“It’s fine.”
Pei Xia was now quite practiced at holding the child—he cradled the little bundle with one arm, looking perfectly at ease. “This little fellow’s getting sturdier by the day. You’ll get tired holding him.”
Shen Yujiao wanted to say it wouldn’t tire her to hold him a while, but seeing that he didn’t wish to let go, she simply let him be. “Then let’s go upstairs—it’s almost noon. The dragon boat race is about to start.”
The couple, followed by their servants, made their way up to the Duanyang Tower by the riverside.
The Duanyang Tower was a five-story structure, painted red, roofed with green tiles, its eaves curving upward like a phoenix about to spread its wings. The carved beams and painted rafters gave it an air of grandeur; under the noonday sun, it gleamed brilliantly, magnificent and imposing.
“My father drew the original design for this building.”
Once seated in a private riverside room, Shen Yujiao gazed at the rolling expanse of the Wei River, her eyes turning distant. “When Duanyang Tower was completed, I was five years old. I still remember—at the opening banquet, my father held me in his arms, standing on the top floor, looking out over the river.”
‘Jiaojiao, do you remember the painting on your father’s desk? This tower came from that very picture.’
‘Wow, Father is amazing!’
‘When I grow up, I want to be as amazing as Father.’
‘Good, good, our Jiaojiao has ambition.’
Adults always humored children like that.
Even though she and her brother had both learned architectural drawing from their father, her brother could take the imperial examinations, become an official, and enter the Ministry of Works—but she could not.
The world simply did not allow such a path for her.
She had to heed her mother’s and Qiao Momo’s teachings, set aside her compass and inkbrush, and pick up the abacus and the needle. She learned to manage a household, to embroider and sew—those were what women were meant to do.
And now, in the blink of an eye, she was a married woman. Her husband held their child in his arms as they visited the Duanyang Tower together.
Looking down at the tiny baby wrapped in his swaddling cloth, Shen Yujiao felt a complex sense of contentment. Di Ge’er was luckier than she had been—he would have far more paths open to him when he grew up.
“Are you thinking of your father?” Pei Xia asked. “In two months, the imperial pardon should reach Lingnan.”
At that, Shen Yujiao’s faint melancholy was scattered by relief, and a smile appeared on her face. “They’ll be able to breathe easier once they receive the pardon.”
She glanced over to see Pei Xia dipping his chopsticks in tea and offering them to Di Ge’er, who smacked his lips eagerly as if he couldn’t get enough. Shen Yujiao’s eyes curved with amusement. “This little glutton—just the other day when I was drinking honey water, he kept smacking his lips too, and drank happily along with me.”
Pei Xia looked from the plump baby in his arms to his wife’s fair, delicate face by the window. In his memory, the image of a round-faced little girl on a swing slowly became clearer.
“What were you like as a child, Yuniang?” Pei Xia asked suddenly.
“Me?” Shen Yujiao blinked in surprise, then after a moment, said with a touch of embarrassment, “My mother said I was terribly spoiled as a child. My grandparents doted on me so much that I was always causing trouble. I couldn’t be scolded or punished—if anyone scolded me, I’d cry and go complain to my grandparents, and then they’d turn around and lecture my parents for upsetting me…”
Pei Xia’s brows lifted slightly. “Doesn’t seem that way now.”
Shen Yujiao gave an awkward smile. “Well, I’ve grown up. How could I still be like that?”
As for when she had changed from a spoiled, willful little troublemaker into a well-behaved and proper young lady—she supposed it began when her grandparents passed away, one after another.
She had been ten then, and it was time to prepare for marriage in a few years. She had to start learning restraint.
“And you, Langjun? What were you like as a child?”
She followed his lead and asked in return, her gaze lingering on Pei Xia’s pale, composed features. She imagined that as a boy, he must have looked just as proper and solemn as he did now.
But he had lost his father early and shouldered the responsibilities of the family as the eldest son—he probably had little time or mood for childish games.
Pei Xia pressed his lips together lightly, just about to speak—
When suddenly, noise erupted outside the door.
“Well, isn’t this a coincidence? Your family’s Langjun and wife have come to see the dragon boat races too?”
“Since we’ve met, it’s only proper we go in and pay our respects.”
“Go on, announce it—say that Xie Wuling has come to call.”
The door was only half closed, and the man’s lazy voice wasn’t loud or soft—just right for the couple inside to hear clearly.
In an instant, the air in the room froze.
Shen Yujiao could clearly see Pei Xia’s once-relaxed features slowly harden.
Her own heart was thrown into confusion—shock, unease, and a flicker of entirely inappropriate anticipation.
She knew it was wrong, yet she couldn’t hold back her curiosity. She desperately wanted to know what Xie Wuling was doing here—why he was still lingering in Chang’an instead of returning to Ningzhou, and what exactly had happened with the gold mine.
The door soon opened. Jinglin entered, face dark, clearly reluctant, and reported stiffly, “Master, Young Master Xie requests an audience.”
Pei Xia remained silent.
Of course. As long as that scoundrel Xie Wuling stayed one more day in Chang’an, he would eventually find some way to pester them.
That man was a rogue.
Unreasonable, shameless—utterly, incorrigibly a rogue.
And yet… it was that very rogue who had saved his wife and child.
He despised him, detested him—yet he could not bring himself to kill him.
The long fingers cradling the swaddled infant tightened, then relaxed again. After two breaths, he lifted his gaze calmly and looked thoughtfully at the wife across from him. “Since he’s an old acquaintance, invite him in for a chat.”
Hearing this, Jinglin couldn’t help but feel stifled on behalf of his master. In his opinion, such a shameless scoundrel deserved to be thrown into a sack, his legs broken, and tossed far away.
But his master was upright and honorable, unwilling to stoop to such methods. Yet should a gentleman have to be pestered by a petty man?
Swallowing his frustration, Jinglin answered in a low voice, “Yes,” and turned to invite the visitor in.
“Brother Shouzhen, Madam—how have you been?”
The wooden door swung open, and in swaggered Xie Wuling, dressed in a dark round-collared long robe.
It had been two months since they last met. He’d grown thinner, darker—but those beautiful, peach-blossom eyes of his still gleamed like gemstones, burning brightly as they fell on Shen Yujiao.
That gaze felt scorching. Shen Yujiao lowered her head and rose together with Pei Xia, returning his greeting politely: “Greetings to you, Sir Xie.”
“No need for such courtesy.”
Though Xie Wuling’s face was all solemn propriety, in his heart he was wishing he could throw Pei Xia straight out the window, shut the door, and finally speak to Jiaojiao alone.
But he couldn’t.
To act without rightful claim or name—how infuriating, how galling.
Suppressing the gloom welling inside, Xie Wuling smiled. “Didn’t expect such coincidence—so you two are here to watch the dragon boat races as well.”
Pei Xia gave him a brief look. “Quite the coincidence indeed.”
Xie Wuling pretended not to notice the sarcasm in his tone and continued casually: “This restaurant is simply too popular—every floor is packed. I was just fretting about not having a seat, when I happened to see young Jinglin by the door. As the saying goes, ‘Fate brings those a thousand miles apart together.’ Brother Shouzhen and Madam are always gracious hosts; surely you wouldn’t mind adding a chair and letting me join you to enjoy the view?”
Had it been any ordinary friend, Pei Xia would have agreed.
But this was Xie Wuling.
“Sir Xie, perhaps you should—”
“Ah, I knew Brother Shouzhen was the hospitable sort! Then I won’t stand on ceremony.”
Before Pei Xia could finish, Xie Wuling had already lifted his robe and sat himself down across from them.
A vein throbbed at Pei Xia’s temple.
How could there exist someone so utterly shameless?
Shen Yujiao: “…”
She knew it—given his nature, he’d find a way to cling on no matter what.
“Langjun,” Shen Yujiao said helplessly, tugging lightly at Pei Xia’s sleeve. “Sit down.”
Xie Wuling also nodded. “Yes, Brother Shouzhen, don’t stand—how tiring that must be. Come, sit.”
Pei Xia: “…”
Forget it. Before Yuniang, he would not lower himself to quarrel with this scoundrel.
But just as he sat down with the baby in his arms, Xie Wuling leaned forward curiously. “You’ve even brought the little one out? It’s been two months since I last saw him—he must’ve grown quite a bit. Brother Shouzhen, if you don’t mind, may I hold him?”
Seeing the hand extended toward him, and the faint hesitation on his wife’s face, Pei Xia was silent for a moment before finally passing the child over.
Xie Wuling handled the baby with practiced ease—cradling and rocking him lightly. Looking down at the chubby, rosy infant, he chuckled. “I remember when he was first born, all wrinkled like a little monkey. Look at him now—so handsome! Mm, and that forehead—clearly takes after his mother. Such a blessed face.”
“Have you given him a name yet?” he asked casually as he teased the baby.
Shen Yujiao instinctively looked at Pei Xia. He met her gaze briefly, expression unreadable, and said evenly: “His given name is Pei Di; courtesy name Jingning.”
Xie Wuling blinked. “Pei… Di?”
Pei Xia replied, “The di from tang di zhi hua.”
Xie Wuling: “…?”
Knowing Xie Wuling’s literacy was limited, Shen Yujiao coughed softly and, dipping a fingertip in water, wrote on the table: “Tangdi—symbolizing the closeness between brothers.”
Xie Wuling stared at the complex character and thought privately that Di meaning ‘earth’ sounded much better. A man should stand tall and solid like the ground!
Still—Di or di, as long as Jiaojiao liked it, that was what mattered most.
“You two are well-read and learned—of course the name you chose is elegant,” Xie Wuling said, then looked at the baby in his arms. “As for me, I’ve little learning, but I sincerely wish this little one a peaceful, healthy life, to grow up strong and safe.”
After speaking, something came to mind. He reached into his sleeve and took out a five-colored silk longevity thread. “Isn’t it the Dragon Boat Festival today? Take this longevity cord as my festival gift to the child—may he live a long life, healthy and free from worry. Brother Shouzhen, if you don’t find it too humble, I’ll tie it on for him.”
Seeing the finely made cord, Pei Xia, though not fond of Xie Wuling, could tell his blessing was sincere.
“Sir Xie is thoughtful,” he said, not refusing.
“You’re too kind.”
Xie Wuling lowered his head, carefully fastening the cord to the baby’s swaddling band. Looking at the child’s delicate face, a soft paternal tenderness rose in his heart.
Even if this child wasn’t his by blood—he was still her child, and thus, his as well.
Across the table, Shen Yujiao caught the gentle look in his eyes and felt a pang of bittersweet ache.
She had always known—Xie Wuling was, at heart, a good man.
Had they never returned to Chang’an, he surely would have been a good husband, a good father…
Her pale fingers clenched on her knee, suppressing those futile thoughts. She changed the subject, asking, “Weren’t you supposed to return to Ningzhou? Why are you still in Chang’an?”
Hearing Shen Yujiao’s question, Xie Wuling’s heart leapt with delight.
Jiaojiao still cared about him, after all!
“That’s a long story,” Xie Wuling said, lifting his head to meet her gaze across the table. He recounted how he had come to know and win the favor of the Third Prince, then added with a grin, “Since I’ve earned His Highness’s appreciation, why would I return to Ningzhou? Chang’an is so much better—prosperous and lively…”
Most importantly, the woman he loved was here.
He didn’t say it outright, but everyone present understood.
The air in the room grew awkward again. Shen Yujiao lifted her teacup, took a delicate sip, then set it down and shifted the topic. “What’s this I hear about the Little Peach Mountain gold mine?”
To others, Xie Wuling spun his usual tale about “divine guidance,” but to Shen Yujiao, he never hid anything. He told her everything plainly.
When he finished, his eyes curved in a half-smile.
“If you ask me, I’ve only been borrowing your good fortune. You gave my name such an auspicious interpretation—it must’ve brought me luck.”
Shen Yujiao couldn’t help but laugh. “If my words had that kind of power, I’d have set up a fortune-telling stall long ago.”
Xie Wuling raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t matter. I’m sure I’ve been blessed by your luck—never had fortune this good before.”
Shen Yujiao smiled faintly, about to reply, when she caught sight of Pei Xia’s calm, distant face out of the corner of her eye. Her heart jolted, and she quickly reined in her laughter.
This wasn’t the little courtyard in Jinling—she couldn’t let herself be drawn into his teasing so easily.
She scolded herself inwardly: Be composed. Be dignified.
But Xie Wuling loved to show off. Seeing the baby asleep, he gently set him on a side couch and suddenly fanned the air with his hand.
“Ah, I didn’t expect Chang’an to be this stuffy in May. Jinling’s May was still damp and cool.”
As he spoke, he unfastened his wide dark outer robe—revealing beneath it a deep green official robe.
Shen Yujiao froze slightly.
Pei Xia’s brow and eyes stiffened as well—part disbelief, part incomprehension.
Who in the world wore an official uniform under their casual robe?
Xie Wuling could clearly feel the two very different gazes on him.
Pei Xia’s, he ignored.
He winked at Shen Yujiao. “This is the six-rank court uniform issued by the imperial court. What do you think—does it suit me?”
Shen Yujiao: “…”
She dug her nails into her palm, telling herself—don’t laugh.
But Xie Wuling, sitting there like a peacock spreading its feathers, was both ridiculous and endearing. She wanted to laugh, to feel happy for him—and yet, there was also a faint ache deep in her chest.
“It looks good,” she said softly.
Knowing he’d gone to the trouble of layering two robes in this heat just to show her, she couldn’t help adding with a smile,
“Very spirited.”
She wasn’t just being polite—Xie Wuling’s tall, long-limbed frame carried the deep green well. The robe emphasized his broad shoulders and straight posture, giving him the air of a steadfast pine, an unyielding cypress—lofty and upright like a mountain.
Far better than that dull constable’s robe he’d worn back in Jinling.
She remembered how, last year, he’d strutted before her in uniform, and she’d half-joked about how he’d surely look handsome one day in crimson court robes. She hadn’t expected that in just a few short months, it would come true.
Fate truly was unpredictable.
“In this weather,” Pei Xia finally said, unable to restrain himself, “Sir Xie wears two layers of robes and doesn’t feel hot?”
In all his twenty-some years, he had never seen such a clumsy, laughable display of flattery and self-importance.
Did this scoundrel really think wearing a green robe could win over Yuniang’s heart? Absurd.
“Of course it’s hot. Why else would I take off my outer robe?” Xie Wuling replied carelessly, ignoring the disdain in Pei Xia’s eyes. He was wearing it for Jiaojiao to see—if that pale-faced scholar didn’t like it, he could just look away.
“I hear the fifth rank gets red robes and golden sashes?”
He sat down again leisurely, his smiling eyes holding a hint of challenge as he looked at Pei Xia.
“You’re handsome enough, sure—but if we both wore red robes, I’d definitely look better.”
Pei Xia’s brows furrowed slightly, his lips curling in a cold smile.
“You really have no sense of modesty.”
“It’s the truth. Don’t believe me? Ask Madam.”
Xie Wuling shrugged, turning to Shen Yujiao.
“Madam, tell us—between me and Brother Shouzhen, who would look more handsome in red robes?”
Shen Yujiao: “…”
Her smile froze.
She shot Xie Wuling a fierce glare, then cautiously glanced at Pei Xia’s expression.
Surely he wouldn’t take such a childish question seriously—would he?
Just as the thought formed, Pei Xia turned his head, those dark, deep eyes fixed steadily on her.
“Yuniang, when I rode in the procession wearing the red robe last time—did it look good?”
Shen Yujiao braced herself and answered awkwardly, “It looked good.”
Pei Xia gave a quiet hum.
“Better than Sir Xie?”
Shen Yujiao: “……”
Would it still be possible to throw herself into the Wei River right now?
“Cough… Langjun is graceful as jade, you look fine in any color,” she said with a forced laugh, then turned her head to glare irritably at the “troublemaker” Xie Wuling.
“Wearing an official robe in this heat—you’re not afraid of getting a rash?”
Xie Wuling’s lips twitched. He was about to complain that Jiaojiao was biased, only praising the pale scholar and not him—
Then he thought again: she was worried about him getting heat rash, wasn’t she? That meant she cared. His gloom melted away instantly, his heart lighting up again.
“No matter,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll take it off later.” His eyes burned with warmth, a smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t worry—I’ll take good care of myself.”
Shen Yujiao felt both amused and achingly sad. Just then, a hand came to rest gently on her shoulder.
She looked up to see Pei Xia’s calm, kind gaze.
“The dragon boat race is about to start,” he said softly. “Let’s watch the competition.”
Hearing Shen Yujiao’s question, Xie Wuling’s heart leapt with joy.
Jiaojiao still cared about him, after all!
“This will take a bit of explaining.” Xie Wuling lifted his head, looking across at Shen Yujiao, and recounted how he came to know and befriend the Third Prince. Then he smiled. “Since I’ve gained His Highness’s favor, why would I go back to Ningzhou? Chang’an is wonderful — prosperous, lively…”
And most importantly, the one he loved was here.
He didn’t say it aloud, but everyone present could tell.
The atmosphere in the room grew a little awkward again. Shen Yujiao lifted her teacup, took a small sip, and set it down before changing the subject: “And what’s this about the gold mine at Little Peach Mountain?”
With others, Xie Wuling would trot out the story about “divine guidance.” But he never hid things from Shen Yujiao — he told her everything exactly as it had happened.
At the end, the corners of his eyes curved with a smile. “If you ask me, it’s all thanks to your lucky words. You said my name had a good meaning — that must have brought me good fortune.”
Shen Yujiao hadn’t expected him to credit her for this and couldn’t help laughing. “If my mouth really brought luck, I’d have set up a fortune-telling stall long ago.”
Xie Wuling raised an eyebrow. “I don’t care what you say — I know it’s because of your blessing. I never had such good luck before.”
Shen Yujiao smiled faintly and was about to reply when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Pei Xia’s cool, distant face. Startled, she quickly restrained her smile.
This wasn’t her little courtyard in Jinling — how could she let herself be teased into laughter by Xie Wuling here?
She scolded herself inwardly: Compose yourself. Be dignified.
But Xie Wuling just couldn’t help showing off. Seeing that the child had fallen asleep, he set the boy down on a couch, then raised a hand to fan himself. “Ah, who’d have thought the weather in Chang’an this May would be this stifling? In Jinling it’s humid, sure, but not so hot.”
As he spoke, he loosened the wide black outer robe he wore, revealing a dark green official robe beneath.
Shen Yujiao blinked in surprise.
Pei Xia’s expression also froze for an instant — disbelief and incomprehension flashing across his face.
Who on earth wore an official robe under their casual clothes?
Xie Wuling could feel both gazes on him — one incredulous, one bemused.
Pei Xia’s didn’t matter to him.
He winked at Shen Yujiao. “This is the court-issued robe for a sixth-rank official. What do you think — how do I look in it?”
Shen Yujiao: “…”
She dug her nails into her palm, reminding herself not to laugh.
But his preening — like a peacock spreading its tail — made her want to laugh anyway. At the same time, she was genuinely happy for him, and beneath that happiness stirred a faint, indescribable pang.
“You look good.”
She knew he’d gone to the trouble of wearing two layers in this heat just to show her, so she couldn’t resist adding, “Very spirited.”
Her praise wasn’t flattery. Xie Wuling was tall, long-limbed — in that dark green robe he looked even more upright and strong, like a pine standing tall or a firm cypress, solemn and unyielding, like a mountain one couldn’t help but look up to.
Far more impressive than the black servant’s robe he used to wear in Jinling.
She remembered last year when he had proudly shown off his official’s robe before her; she’d imagined him in bright crimson and purple court dress then — and now, less than a year later, fate had somehow made it real.
A person’s fortunes were truly impossible to predict.
“In this weather,” Pei Xia finally said, unable to hold back, “doesn’t sir feel hot wearing two robes?”
In over twenty years of life, he had never seen such clumsy, laughable posturing for attention.
Did this rascal really think a green robe could win Yuniang’s heart? Absurd.
“Of course it’s hot — why else would I take off the outer robe?” Xie Wuling said, not even glancing at Pei Xia’s disdain. He’d dressed for Jiaojiao’s sake; if the pretty boy couldn’t stand it, he could just close his eyes.
“I heard fifth-rank officials wear red robes with gold belts?”
He sat back leisurely, his smiling eyes carrying a hint of provocation as he looked at Pei Xia. “You might be handsome, but when it comes to wearing red, I’m sure I look better than you.”
Pei Xia’s brows drew together; he gave a cold smile. “You certainly aren’t modest.”
“It’s just the truth. Don’t believe me? Ask Madam.”
Xie Wuling shrugged and turned to Shen Yujiao. “Madam, you tell us — between me and Brother Shouzhen, who would look better in red?”
Shen Yujiao: “…”
Her smile froze.
She shot Xie Wuling a fierce glare while cautiously glancing at Pei Xia’s expression.
Surely he wouldn’t take offense over such childish talk?
But as soon as the thought arose, the man turned his head, his deep black eyes fixing on her. “Yuniang, that time I rode through the streets in a red robe — didn’t I look good?”
Shen Yujiao forced a stiff smile. “You looked good.”
Pei Xia grunted. “Better than sir here?”
Shen Yujiao: “……”
Would it still be possible to jump into the Wei River right now?
She coughed lightly. “Both of you are elegant and fine — red or green suits either equally well.”
Then she turned away and shot Xie Wuling a sharp look. “Wearing an official robe in this heat — aren’t you afraid of getting a heat rash?”
Xie Wuling pouted, about to complain that Jiaojiao was playing favorites and only praising the pretty boy —
But then he thought again: she was worrying about him getting a rash — that meant she cared! The gloom in his heart instantly cleared.
“No worries, I’ll take it off later.” His gaze burned, lips curling up. “Don’t worry — I’ll take good care of myself.”
Shen Yujiao felt both amused and sour, when a hand settled on her shoulder.
She looked up and saw Pei Xia gazing at her gently. “The dragon boat race is about to start. Let’s watch.”
Shen Yujiao paused for a moment, then turned her head to look out the window. Sure enough, on the wide riverbank, dozens of strong, burly men with red sashes tied around their waists were stretching their limbs and warming up, ready to board their boats for the race.
Her attention was instantly drawn to the liveliness outside.
Xie Wuling’s gaze lingered on the hand resting on Shen Yujiao’s shoulder, and a dull ache rose in his chest.
That pretty boy — can’t win against him, so he resorts to touching her?
Thinking about it, he himself had only ever held Jiaojiao twice…
Xie Wuling gritted his teeth silently.
Pei Xia shot him a cool glance, the corner of his mouth curving faintly.
So what if he’s dressed in reds and greens, all bright and beautiful?
Yuniang was, and always would be, his wife.
Out on the Wei River, dragon boats raced neck and neck, fierce and thrilling.
Inside the private room, two men sat opposite each other, the air thick with undercurrents — one adding food, the other pouring tea; one making conversation, the other cutting in.
When the dragon boat race ended, Shen Yujiao finally let out a quiet sigh of relief.
She truly couldn’t imagine how the Emperor managed to deal with so many concubines in the harem. With just Pei Xia and Xie Wuling sitting across from each other, sharp as blades, she already felt her scalp tingle and her whole body tense, as if sitting on pins and needles.
After the meal, Pei Xia and Shen Yujiao prepared to return home.
Xie Wuling followed them all the way. Before leaving, he reluctantly hugged Di Ge’er and then looked at Shen Yujiao with the same unwillingness to part.
“I have an official post now,” he said. “There’s a salary each month. I plan to rent a house here in Chang’an and have someone bring Ping’an over, so I can raise him by my side.”
Before Shen Yujiao could respond, Pei Xia said, “I’ve already sent a letter to Jinling, instructing the servants to bring Ping’an back to Chang’an. Since he’s the son of my wife’s benefactor, naturally, my wife and I will raise him. You needn’t trouble yourself, Lord Xie.”
“That child bears my surname, Xie — of course he’s my son,” Xie Wuling frowned and turned earnestly to Shen Yujiao. “Jiaojiao, I told you before — if he learns he’s a child without a father or mother, it will break his heart. Especially when he sees Di Ge’er cherished and loved, while he’s only living under someone else’s roof — how would he feel?”
Shen Yujiao fell silent. She knew what Xie Wuling said was true.
“Let me raise him,” Xie Wuling said. “He’s my son, and he should have my name. Having a father — even one like me — is better than having none at all.”
He himself had lost his parents as a child and had long tasted that bitter loneliness.
If, when he was young, there had been someone — anyone — willing to pretend to be family, at least he would have had something to hold on to.
But there hadn’t been.
For over twenty years, no one had been willing to lie to him and call him family.
And when he finally got himself a wife — before they could even live as husband and wife for a day — she was taken away.
Xie Wuling drew in a deep breath, forcing down the turbulent emotion in his chest, and managed a small smile toward Shen Yujiao.
“Jiaojiao, believe me. I’ll treat Ping’an like my own son — with all my heart.”
Meeting his bright, sincere gaze, Shen Yujiao pressed her lips together and sighed softly.
“Then let him stay with you.”
The hand resting on her shoulder tightened slightly. She lifted her face to look at Pei Xia.
“There’s always a difference between one’s own and another’s. No matter how much I care for Ping’an, the love I give him will never equal what I give Di Ge’er. Rather than letting him feel slighted when he grows up and understands things, better to let him have a father who’s fully devoted to him.”
Partiality — it’s human nature. No sense of duty can completely change it.
Pei Xia looked at the steadfast resolve in his wife’s dark eyes, then glanced at Xie Wuling. After a brief silence, he said, “When the servants bring the child, I’ll have them deliver him to your residence. The wet nurse and old servant will continue caring for him as before.”
Xie Wuling nodded. “As you say.”
With everything settled, Pei Xia took his wife and son into the carriage.
Xie Wuling stood by the roadside, watching the crimson-wheeled carriage of the Pei family roll farther and farther away, his heart feeling emptier with each turn of the wheels.
Once again, he’d been left behind.
“Sir, it’s getting late — shall we return?” asked the little servant gifted to him by the Third Prince, leading his horse over respectfully.
“Mm.”
Xie Wuling withdrew his gaze, the smile gone from his handsome face. He swung onto his horse.
In the distance, the riverbank shimmered under the blazing red sun, the water sparkling in the light. He tightened his grip on the reins, eyes resolute.
He would take on more tasks, earn more merits.
One day, he would hold Jiaojiao’s hand — and bring her home.
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