Since that Dragon Boat Festival when she ran into Xie Wuling and learned that he would be stationed in Chang’an for the foreseeable future, Shen Yujiao had deliberately cut back on going out.
Except for a few unavoidable social calls, she spent most of her time in the rear courtyard — managing the household accounts, tending flowers, keeping her son company. With no parents-in-law setting rules, a gentle and considerate husband by her side, and a well-behaved child at her knee, her days passed in leisure and comfort.
Moreover, ever since she began managing the household, she had developed a new interest — business.
When the seasons were steady, the yields from the farms and estates didn’t fluctuate much. But with the shops, if one could read the market and seize the right timing, the profits could multiply tenfold, even a hundredfold.
The Pei family’s main branch owned around a hundred shops in total across Chang’an, Luoyang, and Wenxi — especially in Chang’an and Luoyang, where there were twenty large ones. Their income in recent years had been substantial.
Of course, much of this success was thanks to Madam Wang’s skillful management and wise employment of capable stewards. Thus, when the account books and managers’ rosters reached Shen Yujiao’s hands, everything was clear and organized.
When she had spare time, Shen Yujiao would go over the old shop ledgers and compare them with recent market prices in Chang’an, gradually noticing some inconsistencies.
Likely it was because Madam Wang had lived long in Wenxi and Luoyang and was most familiar with those areas, that the profits from the shops there were nearly on par with those in Chang’an. The shops in the capital, while they looked impressive on paper, owed much of their success simply to their prime location — and to the Pei family’s long-established reputation and wealth.
Most of the stewards in Chang’an were old-fashioned and conservative—content with keeping things stable rather than seeking progress.
Stable, yes—but at the cost of many missed opportunities.
Though Shen Yujiao had no business experience, she still understood that if one only saved and never sought to expand, the flow of wealth would dry up like a silted canal—inevitably leading to decline.
After Pei Xia received his official appointment and began reporting daily to the Hanlin Academy, Shen Yujiao found herself alone in the inner residence, undisturbed. Naturally, her mind turned toward how to increase income—how to open new sources and earn more silver.
When she had married Pei Xia, she hadn’t even brought a dowry chest with her. Now, everything she used—clothes, food, household goods—came from the Pei estate. Even the birthday gifts she recently sent to her maternal aunt’s grandchildren had been drawn from the household’s public accounts.
Pei Xia often said, “Husband and wife are one body,” and never interfered in household finances. Yet when it came to spending on her maternal family, Shen Yujiao couldn’t help feeling a little lacking in confidence.
A woman’s dowry and her natal family—those were her foundation. She had neither. So naturally, she wanted to earn more on her own, even if only to save something for Di Ge’er’er’s future marriage fund.
As she began studying the ledgers and learning the ways of trade, mid-May arrived—and with it, an imperial decree. The emperor ordered the Third Prince to go to Little Peach Mountain to supervise the opening of a new gold mine, and Xie Wuling left Chang’an along with him.
When Shen Yujiao heard the news, she secretly breathed a sigh of relief and took a carriage that very day to visit her elders at the Li residence.
Just a few days later, Emperor Zhaoning sent the Crown Prince to inspect the river systems of the Heluo region, to prepare flood-prevention measures and avoid the disasters that had struck the previous year.
Last year’s floods had been handled by the Crown Prince; this year’s inspection was a familiar duty.
But just before departure, the Crown Prince suddenly fell ill—vomiting, diarrhea, growing thin and weak in just a few days.
The Second Prince volunteered at once to accompany him as deputy commander.
Such brotherly affection moved Emperor Zhaoning deeply. On the spot, he appointed several officials to accompany them—Hanlin scholar Pei Xia, two Ministry of Works clerks, one Ministry of Revenue officer, and a deputy from the Imperial Household.
On the eve of departure, deep into the night, the couple lay together beneath the pale green gauze canopy.
The room was dark except for the faint, hazy light filtering through the veil.
Shen Yujiao could hear the man’s breathing beside her—steady but heavy. He hadn’t fallen asleep. She turned slightly. “Langjun, do you have something on your mind?”
“Did I wake you?”
“Not really,” she said softly. “It doesn’t matter if I sleep late—I can nap during the day. But you’re leaving early tomorrow. Even though you’ll be traveling with the two princes and won’t have to hurry on the road, being away from home can’t be as comfortable. You should sleep early and keep your strength up.”
The man beside her said nothing.
After a long pause, he reached out and drew her slender shoulders into his arms.
Shen Yujiao’s heart gave a little tremor, a flicker of guardedness rising within her.
It was May, the weather warm, clothing thin, tempers easily stirred. These past few nights, she had tried her best not to get too close to Pei Xia. The less contact, the less chance of arousing desire she couldn’t fulfill—because in the end, he would be the one to suffer.
Pei Xia likely understood this too. When she obediently kept to her side of the bed, he refrained from touching her.
But tonight…
Had his restraint finally broken?
Yet Doctor Lin had clearly said they had to wait eighty-one days before resuming relations!
“L–Langjun?” Shen Yujiao froze, her thin silk nightclothes clinging to her skin. She didn’t dare move and whispered awkwardly, “Aren’t you hot?”
“I’m fine.”
Feeling her faint trembling, Pei Xia chuckled quietly. His long hand slid down her back, inch by inch, voice low and calm. “Don’t be nervous. I won’t do anything improper.”
Her face burned. If he’s not doing anything improper, then what exactly are his hands doing? she thought resentfully.
As if hearing her thoughts, his hand stopped at her waist, no longer moving downward. Hooking an arm around her, he drew her fully into his embrace, his chin resting on the crown of her head. “I just want to hold you for a while.”
Shen Yujiao’s brows softened slightly.
He must be feeling reluctant to leave home.
“Langjun, don’t worry too much about things here,” she murmured. “Just focus on your duties. I’ll take care of our child and keep the household running smoothly.”
She leaned quietly against his solid chest. His refined, faint sandalwood scent surrounded her, blending with the warmth of his body. Slowly, that comforting fragrance lulled her drowsiness.
She closed her eyes, her voice soft and drowsy. “It’s only two months. If all goes well, you might even be back sooner.”
Pei Xia said nothing, but his arm around her tightened gradually.
“Langjun, you’re holding me too tightly,” Shen Yujiao said, sensing something strange in his mood. She placed her delicate hand on his and lightly tugged. “What’s wrong?”
“Yuniang, what if you came with me?”
The words were quiet—and sudden.
Shen Yujiao’s sleepiness scattered at once. She blinked in astonishment. “How could I? You’re not going on an outing—you’re accompanying the princes on official duty! What would it look like if I followed? And what about Di Ge’er, and the household…”
Her voice trailed off into soft murmuring. Above her, she heard Pei Xia’s low, self-mocking laugh. “That was foolish of me.”
Shen Yujiao stilled.
She was about to reply when his lips brushed her forehead.
“Yuniang,” he said softly, “this time, wait for me properly at home.”
So that was it.
Shen Yujiao sighed quietly in her heart, then looped her arm around his waist, feigning a light tone. “I’m not a child. Besides, this is the emperor’s own capital—nothing could be safer.”
Even so, Pei Xia still couldn’t set his worries aside.
He only hated that he didn’t have a spell that could make his wife and son small enough to tuck into his sleeve and carry with him everywhere — only then would he feel at ease.
“Langjun, go to sleep.”
Shen Yujiao said softly, “Put your mind at rest. Once you finish your duties and return, I’ll go to Ba Bridge myself to welcome you home.”
Pei Xia was not the sort to fret aimlessly. He knew that worrying now was useless — better to give orders before leaving, telling the guards to heighten the household’s defenses.
The young couple fell asleep in each other’s arms, and soon the quiet returned beneath the gauzy blue canopy.
The next morning, when Shen Yujiao awoke, Pei Xia was already gone.
“The Master instructed that you not be disturbed,” Bai Ping said as she deftly helped her mistress wash and dress. “After washing up in the side room, he held the young master for quite a while before leaving with Jinglin.”
While combing Shen Yujiao’s hair, she continued to relay his words: “The Master said, the heat is oppressive — unless there’s something important, you should stay in and rest. If you must go out, bring enough guards and servants. No matter what happens, your health comes first.”
Shen Yujiao could easily picture how he must have looked while giving those instructions — standing with hands clasped behind his back, expression stern, brows drawn tight, every inch the upright official.
Her lips, tinted faintly rose, curved in a quiet smile.
Seeing this through the yellow-bronze mirror, Bai Ping let out a sigh and chuckled, “Madam, you’re still smiling? The Master’s just been bitten by a snake — now he fears even the well rope. From now on, any time he travels, he’ll never rest easy leaving you home alone.”
“One gets used to it,” Shen Yujiao replied. “He’s an official now — there’ll be many such trips in the future. He may worry the first or second time, but by the third or fourth, he’ll grow accustomed. Besides, it’s not as if I’m so unlucky every year — floods one time, and…”
The words man-made disaster lingered on her tongue. She lowered her gaze briefly.
When she looked up again, her usual gentle calm had returned. Her eyes, dark and serene, drifted toward the carved window where green vines crept over the pink walls. “By the time the crape myrtles bloom, Langjun’s first letter should have arrived.”
The golden breeze whispered; paulownia leaves drifted down.
A quiet nap by the window — crimson sunlight cast across the lilac blossoms.
Crape myrtles are summer flowers, blooming for half a year. As June’s wind arrived, the courtyard wall was soon covered in vibrant blossoms.
When the flowers reached their fullest bloom, Shen Yujiao indeed received Pei Xia’s first letter home.
In it, he wrote that the inspection mission was going smoothly. At the current pace, he might even return by mid-July.
Yet, on the third day after the letter arrived, an urgent report came from Luoyang — the Crown Prince had been attacked, shocking the entire court.
The next afternoon, Shen Yujiao’s aunt, Madam Cheng, came rushing to Yongning Ward. Once the door was shut, she spoke gently, “Your uncle knew you’d be worried about Shouzhen and sent me to reassure you. When the attack happened, he wasn’t at the banquet — he’s safe and sound. Only the Second Prince was injured, having taken a blade to the arm while protecting the Crown Prince.”
Hearing this, Shen Yujiao let out a long breath and pressed a hand to her chest. “As long as he’s all right.”
It certainly helped to have someone in the court — without that, she might have spent sleepless nights in fear.
“But what on earth happened?” Shen Yujiao sat at the edge of the couch, brows slightly furrowed, her face full of concern. “What sort of criminal would be so bold as to attempt to assassinate the Crown Prince? And moreover…”
She paused, glanced around to make sure the doors and windows were shut, and lowered her voice. “If this were factional strife, the target should have been the Second Prince. The Crown Prince has always kept to the Eastern Palace — he has neither power nor influence, and the Emperor doesn’t even favor him. Inspecting the waterways shouldn’t have brought such trouble, should it?”
All under the Liang court knew that Emperor Zhaoning and his mother, the Empress Dowager Xiao’an, had a strained relationship. His dislike extended to the Empress Dowager’s choice of queen — Empress Zhaoyi of the Fang clan — and thus also to her son, the Crown Prince.
Empress Zhaoyi had died a year before Shen Yujiao was born, so she had never met this Madam Fang.
But the saying “Madam Fang, the model of virtue and grace” still circulated for a decade after the Fang family was destroyed in Jing Wang’s rebellion.
At the very least, when Qiao Momo had taught Shen Yujiao the manners of a proper lady, she often used “Madam Fang” as an example — until perhaps deciding it was too ominous and stopped mentioning her.
As for the Crown Prince himself, after losing both Empress Zhaoyi and the Empress Dowager in succession — and then the support of his maternal clan in Jing Wang’s rebellion — his naturally reserved temperament had grown ever more withdrawn.
He was a son who didn’t win his father’s affection, yet happened to be the legitimate eldest.
Pressed by the court, Emperor Zhaoning had reluctantly appointed him Crown Prince — not as a true heir, but more like a figurehead placed in the Eastern Palace.
Though mediocre and unambitious, the Crown Prince knew his situation well. He understood that the Emperor didn’t truly want him there — that he was simply a convenient shield against the courtiers’ constant pleas. Once the other princes competed and one proved capable, he was expected to yield the position and live quietly as a titled prince.
So for years, he kept out of disputes, gentle and unassuming. When duty called, he served; when not, he stayed in the palace, burning incense and playing the zither, trying his best to be invisible.
He was so mild that even his brothers greeted him warmly, willingly calling him “Elder Brother.”
And yet — it was precisely such a harmless Crown Prince who had been the target of an assassination.
Even Shen Yujiao couldn’t help feeling pity for the ill-fated man. Shaking her head, she murmured, unable to comprehend, “How could he have enemies?”
Madam Cheng also sighed. “Your grandfather and uncle can’t make sense of it either. Now all those upright scholars among them are starting to regret—perhaps they never should’ve forced His Majesty to name a crown prince in the first place…”
But back then, no one imagined the Crown Prince would turn out so mediocre and weak—mud so soft that no matter how you try, it simply won’t hold a wall.
If only he had inherited a trace of the Fang family’s spirit, a bit of their steel, he wouldn’t have ended up known across the land as a useless fool.
“Your uncle said that the assassins that night were all highly trained death warriors. Once they saw their attempt would fail, before the imperial guards could capture them, they bit down on the poison hidden in their teeth and died instantly—no survivors left.”
Madam Cheng, a well-bred matron unused to such grisly matters, frowned tightly at the thought. Her usually composed face was drawn, her voice somber: “With no one alive, they can only deploy more troops, searching everywhere for the slightest trace, anything that might lead to the truth. Sigh… in just two months it’ll be the Mid-Autumn Festival, and now this happens. His Majesty was furious in court yesterday, saying he’d spare no cost until the matter is fully uncovered.”
“His Majesty may not like the Crown Prince,” she added, “but after all, he is still his son. He may loathe him—but he won’t allow others to harm him.”
“Ah, isn’t that the truth.” Madam Cheng’s throat had gone dry; she lifted her teacup, took a long sip, then shook her head with another sigh. “The Crown Prince truly is a pitiful man. If the late Empress could see from the heavens how troubled her child’s life has been…”
She seemed to have many feelings about it, but in the end, all that remained was a deep sigh by her lips.
By dusk, as the red clouds faded, Madam Cheng kissed Di Ge’er’er over and over before finally leaving reluctantly for home.
Yet Shen Yujiao still couldn’t stop thinking about the Crown Prince’s attempted assassination.
Who wanted him dead?
The Second Prince? The Third Prince?
That made no sense.
The Crown Prince might as well be holding up his title like a platter, just waiting for those two to finish fighting and claim it. He posed no threat to them whatsoever.
She thought and thought, but still couldn’t understand. A vague unease took root in her chest—this matter was surely not so simple. It was like seeing only the tip of an iceberg rising from a black sea, hiding vast unknown depths beneath.
That night, alone in her chamber, she looked around the empty room and thought of how Pei Xia had nearly been present at that same banquet. Her heart fluttered anxiously.
She finally rose, put on an outer robe, and took Pei Xia’s letter from the bedside. Under the faint lamplight filtering through the canopy, she read it once more, word by word, until her mind calmed.
Half a month passed in the blink of an eye. Pei Xia’s second letter arrived.
There was no mention of the assassination—only a single osmanthus blossom folded inside, and a few lines: “All is well. Before Mid-Autumn, I shall surely return home for reunion. Do not worry—take care of yourself.”
Shen Yujiao tipped the envelope, letting the dried osmanthus spill into her palm. The tiny blossoms glowed like scattered gold, like fragments of starlight.
“Di Ge’er, these osmanthus flowers were sent by your father from Luoyang.”
Holding her child close, she spread the blossoms in her palm, smiling softly. “Smell—aren’t they fragrant?”
The baby, now four months old and much bigger, nestled warmly against her chest, eyes wide and curious. He reached out a chubby little hand toward the bright yellow petals, babbling soft “yaya” sounds.
Since the flowers were tiny and brittle, Shen Yujiao didn’t let him touch them, afraid the little one might stuff them straight into his mouth.
“There’s a tree blooming in our own garden too,” she said gently. “Tomorrow Mother will take you to pick osmanthus, and we’ll make a sachet for your father. How about that?”
“Ya~”
“You want one too?”
“Ya ya~”
“You’re still too little to need a sachet,” she laughed, watching the flowers in her hand. Then, unbidden, her thoughts drifted back to last year’s Mid-Autumn Festival—
Last year, she had spent it with Xie Wuling.
By now, it had been an entire summer since she last heard from him.
Was he still digging for gold in Little Peach Mountain? Under such scorching heat, with the blazing sun—was he well?
“Wuuu~”
The baby suddenly whimpered. Shen Yujiao blinked and looked down, seeing the little one’s mouth puckered, eyes on the verge of tears. She couldn’t help but laugh. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you miss Uncle Xie too?”
Of course, she didn’t believe in such things as telepathy—certainly not for a baby this small.
When the nursemaid came, she loosened the diaper, and sure enough, the little fellow had wet himself again.
One pillow of coolness, one gust of autumn wind; with every rainfall came a deeper chill.
When the first paulownia leaf drifted down, the crape myrtles along the wall were still in full, fiery bloom.
On the third day of the eighth month, the Crown Prince, Second Prince, and their party returned from their inspection of the waterways.
Shen Yujiao rose early that morning, carefully dressed, and had the carriage readied—she meant to go to Ba Bridge herself to welcome Pei Xia home.
Before leaving, she hesitated over whether to bring Di Ge’er along. But the little one had caught a chill and only just recovered from a high fever. Qiao Momo, holding the child, waved her hand repeatedly. “Ba Bridge may not be far, but it’s still a two-hour ride. The young master is too delicate for such a jostling journey. Go greet the lord yourself, Madam. Leave him here— we’ll take good care of him.”
Thinking about the baby—still nursing, still in diapers—and how she might run into the Crown Prince and Second Prince’s entourage on the way, Shen Yujiao realized it truly wasn’t convenient.
She gave the nurse and wet nurse careful instructions, left the steady maids Dongxu and Bai Ping at home to watch over things, then took her attendants and servants, and departed from the estate.
A few light autumn rains over the past days had finally washed away the lingering summer heat.
Shen Yujiao lifted a corner of the pale-blue carriage curtain, gazing out at the vast, high sky of autumn—clear and boundless, a flawless blue—and felt her mood brighten with it.
She couldn’t tell whether this lightness came from the crisp autumn air, or from the thought that her husband, away for so many days, was finally returning home. Her brows and eyes softened as she sat in the carriage, her gaze occasionally falling on the small sandalwood box at her side—inside it lay the osmanthus sachet she had made.
She had only meant to make one, but after picking too many blossoms, she ended up finishing two.
Since they were already made, she decided to wear one herself at her waist.
The autumn-gold brocade was embroidered with two osmanthus blossoms, and stuffed full with dried osmanthus and mint leaves. When she idly pressed it between her fingers, the soft fragrance lingered faintly on her fingertips.
“Madam seems in good spirits today,” Qiulu said with a smile.
Xiaying shot her a sly glance. “Well, they say a little separation makes the reunion feel like a new wedding. The master’s finally coming back—how could madam not be happy?”
Qiulu chuckled. “Indeed, the master must have missed madam too—he’s probably rushing home this very moment.”
On ordinary days, Shen Yujiao would have chided the two for teasing her, but today, feeling cheerful, she let their chatter be, allowing the lively noise to fill the journey.
When the carriage reached Ba Bridge, it was just past noon.
The Crown Prince’s procession hadn’t yet arrived. After sitting so long in the carriage, her back and waist were sore. She put on her veiled hat, and with her two maids’ support, sat down at a roadside teahouse to wait.
Ba Bridge was a place known for partings and reunions. Travelers came and went constantly—some tearfully waving farewell, some meeting again with joy, some clasping hands and gazing at each other with reluctant eyes.
Standing in the autumn haze, Shen Yujiao’s thoughts drifted, and she suddenly recalled the day her whole family had been sent into exile.
Time flew like a shuttle; in the blink of an eye, two years had passed.
Fortunately, the bitterness was over, and sweetness had come. In another season, the family would be reunited, never again to be separated.
Just as her thoughts were drifting, a long “whoa—” of a reined horse sounded not far away.
Her ears twitched. That voice… sounded familiar.
Through the thin misty veil, she looked up—and when she saw the tall man dismounting from a black horse, dressed in a fitted dark-red riding suit, her breath caught, and her eyes widened slightly.
What a coincidence!
The man who handed his reins to the stableboy and walked toward her was none other than Xie Wuling—whom she hadn’t seen since summer.
He was thinner than he’d been at the Dragon Boat Festival, which made his already sharp jawline even more pronounced. His skin was tanned, windburned; even from a distance, one could tell how travel-worn he was. His lips were dry and cracked, a faint stubble darkened his jaw.
If not for those bright, narrow black eyes—too vivid, too fiery to belong to anyone else—Shen Yujiao might have mistaken him for a disheveled wanderer.
“Xie—” Her lips parted; the name almost slipped out, but she restrained herself just in time.
There were too many people coming and going in the teahouse, and she had maids, attendants, and guards by her side.
“Didn’t expect it to really be Madam!”
Xie Wuling strode forward, stopping five paces from her and offering a polite bow. “I saw the lantern on your carriage and thought my eyes were playing tricks on me after too many days on the road. No wonder the magpies were chirping this morning—turns out it was to foretell meeting a noble lady today.”
His greeting and demeanor were proper enough, yet his gaze—bright, scorching, fixed on her through the thin veil—was anything but decorous.
Shen Yujiao silently thanked heaven she wore a hat with a veil; otherwise, the heat rising to her cheeks would surely draw gossip.
“Blessings to you, Young Master Xie.”
She rose and returned his bow, speaking with the polite distance one would give an acquaintance met by chance. “What brings you here?”
“I was ordered by the Third Prince to return to Chang’an for some affairs.”
His tone was lazy, yet his eyes swept over her from head to toe.
Jiaojiao looked beautiful today too—dressed in a smoke-pink brocade skirt with gold-thread embroidery, her dark hair like clouds, adorned with a jeweled hairpin shaped like a bird’s wing. Her white earlobes bore a pair of jade willow-leaf earrings—cool, translucent, adding a touch of freshness to her gentle poise.
Though her face beneath the veil was hidden, Xie Wuling could well imagine how lovely it must look.
“And Madam, what brings you here?” he asked.
Then, as if realizing something, he added, “Pei… Shouzhen has returned, hasn’t he?”
Shen Yujiao pressed her lips together and gave a faint “mm.”
“No wonder.”
“Hmm?”
“No wonder… you’re here.”
His gaze lingered again on her graceful attire, the corners of his lips tugging into a small smile—though in his chest, a sharp bitterness rose.
No wonder she looked so beautiful today.
It was for another man.
She was waiting for another man to return.
