Song of the Bright Moon Chapter 76

“Y-young Master Xie… have you been well?”

Shen Yujiao still wasn’t quite used to calling him “Young Master Xie”—the term sounded so stilted between them. But propriety left her no choice.

When she saw the faint shadow clouding his expression, a pang of wistfulness stirred in her heart, and her voice softened. “You don’t look too well.”

Xie Wuling’s long fingers curled at his side. He raised an eyebrow, voice lifting slightly: “I’m fine. Eating well, sleeping soundly—everything’s great. It’s Madam who looks thinner.”

Was that Pei Shouzhen b*stard not feeding her properly? Last time he’d seen her, her cheeks had still been round and soft; now her chin was pointed, her figure slender—especially that willow-like waist cinched by her pale-blue sash, so narrow it looked as if one hand could encircle it.

“After giving birth, one naturally becomes a little lighter. And the summer heat is hard to bear—I’ve had less of an appetite than in winter.”

Shen Yujiao lifted her sleeve casually, blocking Xie Wuling’s gaze from lingering at her waist, and countered, “But you—how did you grow so thin?”

He was darker and leaner, and even his aura had changed—gone was the easygoing, careless air of before.

Now, he was like a sharpened blade—edges gleaming, cold light flashing.

No longer the idle ruffian of Jinling City.

“I’ve been following the Third Prince to open mines,” Xie Wuling coughed lightly, his eyes shifting away. “Running up and down mountains every day, sun and wind all the time—it’s natural to lose weight.”

Lying was second nature to him. But lying to Shen Yujiao—that felt like a sin.

Yet the errand the Third Prince had secretly sent him on to Longxi was confidential—something that must not be leaked.

Fortunately, Shen Yujiao didn’t press further. She merely sighed softly. “Though duties matter, one must still take care of one’s health…”

Eat more meat, rest well, take care of yourself.

Don’t get sick. Don’t push yourself. Don’t chase merit too recklessly.

If possible, let go of those impossible dreams. Just draw your salary and live a peaceful life.

Don’t work yourself to exhaustion—for me. It’s not worth it, Xie Wuling.

All those words stayed caught in her throat. With so many eyes around them, she could only suppress the impulse, unable to say them aloud.

But to Xie Wuling, even that polite sentence—“take care of your health”—was enough.

“Don’t worry, madam, I’ll take good care of myself.” His eyes curved in a smile. “The blind fortune-teller Liu at the City God Temple once said my fate is tough as iron—even the King of H*ll shakes his head at me. Said I’ll live to at least ninety-nine!”

At that, a faint smile bloomed beneath her gauzy veil. “Mm, then I’ll borrow his good words.”

Hearing the smile in her voice made Xie Wuling’s heart light up. By all propriety, he should have taken his leave now.

But his feet seemed rooted to the ground. He didn’t want to move—wanted to stay a little longer. Even if they said nothing, just standing like this was enough.

“It’s been some time since I last saw Brother Shouzhen too,” he said, fabricating as he looked toward the sky. “Since madam is waiting for him here, I’ll wait too. Haven’t seen him in ages—I do miss the fellow.”

“…”

Shen Yujiao could see right through his little ploy. But if the two men actually met, who knew what argument might spark again.

“My husband is returning with His Highness the Crown Prince and the Second Prince. The procession will likely be slow. Young Master Xie should go ahead into the city, so as not to delay your work.”

“My business isn’t urgent. Tomorrow will do just as well.”

“Then let me tell you frankly—this isn’t the right place or time for reminiscing.”

After a moment’s thought, Shen Yujiao lifted a corner of her veil, her clear dark eyes meeting his. “If you have free time another day, my husband can invite you for a drink.”

And then Xie Wuling finally saw the face he’d been longing for—radiant, delicate—and also saw the gentle distance in her gaze.

A pang of grievance struck him. He wanted to ask—has your heart no room for me anymore?

But she did care about him.

When he wore the official’s robe for her to see, the joy in her eyes had been unmistakable.

She had noticed his thinness and told him to take care of himself.

“The day’s still early. Since we’ve met by chance, no need to rush,” he said, refusing to move, filling the air with small talk. “How is your young son? He must have grown, hasn’t he?”

“Thank you for your concern—he is doing very well,” Shen Yujiao replied. Her gaze flicked toward her maids; seeing their eyes lowered and faces composed, she relaxed slightly.

“He’s a good boy, isn’t he? Doesn’t cause you trouble?”

“He’s very well-behaved. And with the wet nurse and maids helping to look after him, it’s not much work for me.”

“That’s good.” Xie Wuling nodded—and then added abruptly, “I know how to write the ‘Di’ from ‘Tangdi zhi hua’ now.”

The sudden, contextless remark caught Shen Yujiao off guard.

He looked at her steadily, eyes bright. “After I went back, I found a tutor and asked him. He said it’s from the Book of Songs, the poem ‘Tang Di’—the same collection as that ‘Guan guan ju jiu, zai he zhi zhou’ one. I remembered it.”

Back in their small courtyard in Jinling, Shen Yujiao had taught him The Three Character Classic, and later, the Book of Songs.

Three hundred poems, with thoughts free of evil.

Among them, the famous Jianjia and Guanju were classics—rhythmic, vivid, and elegant.

“‘Guan guan ju jiu, zai he zhi zhou. A fair lady is what this old man seeks—’”

Back then, when Xie Wuling playfully altered the line, Shen Yujiao had been so angry she nearly fell backward, glaring at him. “Say that again and I’m not teaching you anymore!”

He’d immediately laughed and corrected himself. “Alright, alright—‘a gentleman seeks her.’ But honestly, this poem’s too biased. Why must the fair lady be sought only by a gentleman? If I like her, can’t I seek her too?”

At the time, she thought his attitude unserious—deliberately provoking her.

She hadn’t expected that for all his teasing, he’d still remembered.

“‘The blossom of the tangdi tree glows bright; among all men, none are like brothers… May your home be harmonious, your wife and children bring joy. Is it so? Truly so?’”

Xie Wuling recited the Tang Di poem slowly and fluently.

Shen Yujiao stared at him in astonishment. He had memorized it?

Even she only remembered the first four lines—she’d long forgotten the rest.

Seeing the surprise between her brows and eyes, Xie Wuling’s thin lips curved slightly. “Besides this one, I’ve learned quite a few others with my teacher. I’ve already read The Art of War by Sunzi, and lately I’ve been studying Wu Zi, The Military Methods of Sun Bin, and The Six Secret Teachings…”

Shen Yujiao truly hadn’t expected Xie Wuling to have the patience to study such things. Before, when asked to learn even a few characters, he would curse and grumble, his attitude utterly improper.

Truly — one must look at a man with new eyes after only three days apart.

“Madam comes from a noble house and must have read widely. I wonder if there are any good books you might recommend?”

Praise me, praise me.

Xie Wuling’s eyes shone bright; if he had a tail, it would surely be wagging fast enough to blur.

Being stared at that way made Shen Yujiao embarrassed. She raised her fist to her lips and turned her face aside. “I hadn’t thought Lord Xie so diligent. But as for military texts, I haven’t read much. If you want my recommendation, the Four Books and Five Classics are all masterpieces — rich in meaning and moral principle, worth studying again and again. They’ll surely benefit you greatly.”

Xie Wuling responded with a cheerful “Good,” then chatted aimlessly for a while longer. Seeing that Shen Yujiao’s gaze had begun to carry a trace of reproach, he knew it was time to leave—

Any longer, and Jiaojiao would be angry.

He sighed inwardly and was just about to take his leave when his peripheral vision caught the osmanthus sachet tied at Shen Yujiao’s waist. His hand moved unconsciously to his own chest.

Inside his robe lay the red pouch his wife had made for him a year ago. A few stitches had come loose, and he had clumsily mended them himself. It looked ugly, but it still served its purpose.

“Madam, that sachet of yours looks quite exquisite…”

“…Just something I embroidered idly.”

Of course Shen Yujiao could see the longing in his eyes, but she steeled herself and pretended not to. “If Lord Xie likes it, once you enter the city, you can visit a shop and buy one. With the Mid-Autumn Festival coming, there will be plenty of osmanthus-patterned sachets — they should be easy to find.”

“Then never mind.”

Xie Wuling’s lips pressed into a faint smile. “I’ll just use the pouch my wife embroidered for me.”

Shen Yujiao was momentarily speechless.

Xie Wuling arched a brow at her. “I believe that when my wife and I are reunited, she’ll surely make me many more pouches. Madam may not know, but my wife is the best little lady in the world.”

How could this man be like this…

Shen Yujiao felt her ears burning. She quickly lowered her gauze veil and took a step back. “It’s getting late. Lord Xie should head into the city.”

Having said all this and seen her expression, Xie Wuling decided he’d best stop while ahead. “Alright then, I’ll be off.”

“But may I trouble Madam to pass on a message to Brother Shouzhen for me?”

“Hm?”

“Just tell him…”

Xie Wuling lowered his gaze, his peach-blossom eyes glimmering with emotion as he looked at her. “Don’t forget me—”

Shen Yujiao’s heart gave a hard thump.

“—this old friend of his,” he added, smiling, “and invite me for a drink when he has time.”

“Alright, I’ll tell him.”

Shen Yujiao forced herself to sound composed, curtsied gracefully, and said, “Lord Xie, take care.”

Xie Wuling clasped his fists and was just about to turn away when, not far off, a servant suddenly called out loudly, “The procession is here!”

Both Shen Yujiao and Xie Wuling froze.

The approaching entourage made quite the commotion, with soldiers opening the way before and behind, a large crowd surging forward.

“Make way for the honored guest! Idle folk, stand aside!”

People inside and outside the teahouse craned their necks to look ahead while obediently stepping aside, clearing a wide path.

With everyone’s attention drawn, if Xie Wuling were to leave now, it would only seem suspicious.

Shen Yujiao felt a headache coming on. Those two men — truly, it was fate that enemies always crossed paths.

There was no avoiding it now; she would just have to face it. Surely, with so many servants around, Pei Xia wouldn’t misunderstand.

As she was thinking, the sound of galloping hooves drew near.

In the bright autumn sunlight, a young man in a deep blue brocade robe rode swiftly toward them, a jade-like figure, dust billowing behind his horse.

“Madam, it’s the master!” the maids exclaimed in delight.

Shen Yujiao, too, saw her husband, Pei Xia, returning travel-worn.

Seated tall on his horse, Pei Xia also spotted the wife he hadn’t seen all summer — and the eyesore of a man standing beside her.

The smile in his narrow eyes vanished at once, his lips pressing into a thin line.

He dismounted in one smooth motion and strode forward. “Yuniang.”

“Langjun has returned.” Shen Yujiao curtsied, but her elbow was caught firmly by his hand.

Right in front of Xie Wuling, he naturally took her hand and drew her close to his side. “Mm. I’m back.”

He smiled as he spoke, but when he lifted his gaze toward Xie Wuling, his eyes had cooled noticeably. “What brings Lord Xie here?”

“Brother Shouzhen has returned,” Xie Wuling said with a smile that never reached his eyes. “What a coincidence. I happened to be coming back to the city and saw your carriage, so I stopped to greet Madam.”

“Such coincidence?” Pei Xia’s glance slid sideways to the woman beside him. He couldn’t see her expression through the veil, but he could feel her hand stiffen slightly in his grasp.

“Indeed,” Xie Wuling replied lightly. “As the saying goes, some fates are decreed by heaven itself. Even if separated by mountains, rivers, or seas of people, those meant to meet will meet again. The thread of fate — once held in Heaven’s hand — no mortal can ever sever.”

Pei Xia’s lips twitched slightly, but he didn’t look at Xie Wuling. Instead, his eyes lowered to Shen Yujiao. “Why are your hands so cold? Have you been waiting long?”

Shen Yujiao was startled. “No… not long.”

Seeing Pei Xia’s hand tighten around hers, she bit her lip and quickly looked ahead. “Langjun, will you be accompanying Their Highnesses for other affairs later, or may you return home with me?”

Pei Xia said, “We’ll return home today. I’ll enter the palace to see His Majesty tomorrow morning.”

“Then shall we go back now,” Shen Yujiao asked, “or must you first pay your respects to the two princes?”

“I’ll speak with Their Highnesses once the procession arrives,” Pei Xia replied.

Before long, that vast procession reached Ba Bridge.

The commoners on both sides, knowing it was the retinue of the Crown Prince and the Second Prince, bowed deeply and called in unison, “Long live His Highness the Crown Prince! Blessings upon His Highness Xian Wang!”

Shen Yujiao and Xie Wuling also bowed respectfully by the roadside. Pei Xia released her hand. “I’ll be back shortly.”

He first walked toward the Crown Prince’s carriage.

Shen Yujiao remembered the recent assassination attempt on the Crown Prince and couldn’t help glancing up quietly toward the carriage.

The curtain was lifted slightly, revealing half of the Crown Prince’s face—but the distance was too far, and her hat veil blocked her view, so she couldn’t see clearly.

Beside her, Xie Wuling was also looking at the Crown Prince.

As a man trained in martial arts, his eyesight was excellent. Through the crimson beaded curtain, he saw a refined and steady face, gentle yet commanding.

For some reason, as he looked at this Crown Prince he had never met, Xie Wuling felt a strange sense of familiarity.

Familiarity?

He gave a self-mocking smile. Most likely, this so-called “useless Crown Prince” just had a friendly-looking face.

Beside the vermilion-wheeled carriage, Pei Xia too caught a glimpse of the prince’s face—and was dazed for a moment.

Was his vision playing tricks on him?

Because at the instant the Crown Prince lifted the curtain, that profile had looked somewhat like Xie Wuling’s.

He had never once associated the two before, yet upon closer inspection, the Crown Prince’s lips and jawline bore at least sixty percent resemblance to Xie Wuling’s.

But the world was vast, and similar faces were no rarity.

Pei Xia dismissed the thought and reported his situation to the Crown Prince, who smiled gently. “Shouzhen, fortune smiles upon you. Since your wife has personally come to receive you, go home together and reunite early.”

“Your servant thanks Your Highness for your kindness.” Pei Xia bowed respectfully.

The Crown Prince smiled again, then as he lowered the curtain, his eyes unintentionally swept toward the teahouse ahead.

The veiled woman there was unremarkable—but the young man beside her, tall and striking, carried an air of calm strength.

Especially those eyes—bright and sharp as cold light.

The Crown Prince’s heart gave a sudden jolt as another face flashed in his mind.

He furrowed his brows, then dropped the curtain and shook his head with a faint laugh.

What nonsense he was thinking.

—

The carriage rolled smoothly along the road, the sound of its wheels a steady rhythm. Shen Yujiao’s heart was uneasy.

Since they had left Ba Bridge and entered the carriage, Pei Xia had remained silent.

This was hardly the atmosphere one expected from a long-awaited reunion between husband and wife.

He was upset.

“Langjun,” Shen Yujiao ventured softly, her eyes resting on his calm, handsome features, “are you hungry? I brought some pastries with me—you can eat a little if you are.”

Pei Xia slowly lifted his eyelids. Seeing the flicker in her gaze, he parted his lips lightly. “I’m not hungry.”

Shen Yujiao fell quiet for a moment, then said, “If you get hungry, just tell me.”

“Alright.”

Silence returned to the carriage.

Shen Yujiao could hardly bear the stillness. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a sandalwood box and, relieved for a distraction, quickly picked it up. “Oh, right—this is for you.”

Pei Xia had already noticed the box when he entered the carriage, but hadn’t expected it to be meant for him.

“What is it?”

“You’ll know when you open it.”

His long fingers held the box steadily and lifted the lid. A wave of sweet osmanthus fragrance drifted out, revealing a single ochre-yellow sachet resting inside.

It was identical to the one tied at her waist.

“For me?” Pei Xia looked up, his gaze fixed steadily on his wife’s clear black eyes.

Under his unwavering gaze, Shen Yujiao grew flustered. Her dark lashes lowered slightly. “Yes. The osmanthus in the garden bloomed, and the weather was nice, so I took our child to pick some and made two sachets while I was at it.”

“The other one is the one you’re wearing?”

“Mhm.” She nodded.

Two sachets—one for him, one for Yuniang.

That shameless Xie fellow had none.

That realization eased some of the tightness in Pei Xia’s chest.

Suppressing the upward tug of his lips, he took the sachet from the box and held it out toward her. “Tie it for me?”

Shen Yujiao blinked in surprise, but upon meeting the depth of his gaze, she still took it and leaned closer to him.

As the distance closed, the faint sandalwood scent that clung to him enveloped her like an invisible net. Lowering her head, she carefully tied the sachet for him.

Pei Xia lowered his eyes; from this angle, he could clearly see the pale curve of her neck beneath her mist-rose collar.

Slender and fair—so beautiful, so fragile.

“All done,” Shen Yujiao said softly, just as she lifted her head—only to meet the man’s deep, black eyes unexpectedly.

Her heart seemed to skip a beat. That dangerous warmth in his gaze made her instinctively try to move away.

But as if he had already anticipated her reaction, Pei Xia’s large hand caught her waist firmly, and his tall frame leaned in, enveloping her.

Her back was pressed against the cold wall of the carriage, and in front of her was the man’s chest—solid and radiating heat.

“Lang…”

Before she could finish, her lips were sealed by his. The kiss came fierce and urgent, more forceful than any before, as if he were pouring two months’ worth of longing into it—wild and unrestrained, like a storm breaking loose.

But even that wasn’t enough. His long, jointed fingers brushed her face, gripping her chin to make her part her lips, allowing him to kiss her more deeply.

Pei Xia had always been quick-witted—whatever he learned, he mastered swiftly, including the art of kissing his wife.

The first time he kissed deeply, he had been clumsy and without rhythm. By the second, he had already found the pattern. And now, he knew precisely how to unsteady her senses—how to make her breath quicken, her body soften, and her whole being melt into his grasp.

His tongue tangled with her soft one as he watched her closed eyes, the lashes trembling like butterfly wings. Her pale face gradually flushed with a tender blush; sweat glistened faintly on the tip of her nose, and the hands pressed against his chest slowly lost their strength.

Such a wife—radiant, captivating.

And this springlike warmth bloomed for him alone.

Though it was already the cool month of August, Shen Yujiao was flushed and sweating, her head light and dizzy—her mind turned to mush under his ardent kisses.

Why was it that whenever he kissed her, the man who was usually so calm and refined became an entirely different person? Each time fiercer than the last—today, she almost felt as if she would drown in him.

Her belt suddenly loosened. Shen Yujiao’s lashes fluttered; she jolted awake, cheeks burning red, and pressed down his hand. “Don’t…”

Pei Xia’s long fingers paused at her waistband. His dark eyes fixed on her, voice low and hoarse. “It’s been more than eighty-one days.”

From her childbirth in March to now in August—five months had passed.

Or rather, from their separation last May until now—though his beloved wife was before him, he had lived like a monk for more than a year.

He had never thought that something he once dismissed as frivolous pleasure would one day become an ache he longed for yet could not have.

A short separation surpasses a new marriage.

Those teasing words from the maid earlier on the road suddenly echoed in Shen Yujiao’s mind. Seeing the restrained desire in his eyes, her snowy-white ears burned scarlet.

They were husband and wife—intimacy was only natural.

Still, she bit her glistening red lip and murmured softly, “Not… in the carriage…”

There were so many people outside, and in broad daylight no less—how could he be so improper?

Hearing the plea in her tone, Pei Xia’s throat bobbed slightly.

After a long breath, he pulled her into his arms, his chin resting atop her head. “Alright.”

She was his wife—she deserved his respect.

And besides, they would soon disembark; he didn’t want even a trace of her stirred, tender look to be seen by others.

That side of her was for him alone.

By the time dusk fell, the setting sun painted the sky crimson, and the carriage finally arrived at the Pei residence in Yongning Ward.

The master’s safe return filled the whole estate with cheer and bustle.

Di Ge’er seemed to sense his father’s return as well—he didn’t nap lazily today, and when Pei Xia lifted him up, the baby grinned wide, babbling, “Ya~ ya ya~~”

Of course, a glistening trail of drool also soaked Pei Xia’s robes without restraint.

With his beloved wife beside him and his cherished son in his arms, Pei Xia sat beneath the sunset veranda, feeling that the piece of his heart long missing on his travels had finally been found and settled back into place.

The family of three enjoyed a warm, peaceful dinner together.

When night fell, Di Ge’er was taken by his nursemaid to the next room, and the maids—tactful and perceptive—quietly withdrew, leaving the chamber to the reunited husband and wife.

Shen Yujiao knew that since Pei Xia would stay the night in her courtyard, what was bound to happen would happen.

After bathing, she extinguished two of the lamps, drew down half the gauzy canopy, and lay on the bed first.

The room was quiet. She stared at the faintly lit canopy, unable to calm her racing heart.

Nervous—so very nervous.

They were already husband and wife, with a child even—so why was she so anxious?

Her heart pounded as fast as it had on their wedding night.

Beneath the brocade quilt, her fingers curled tightly. She closed her eyes, regulating her breath, telling herself this was nothing unusual.

They had done this before—what was there to fear?

Yet as soon as that thought arose, another voice within refuted it—yes, she had been shy before, but never so flustered, so unsure of what to do with her hands and feet as she was now.

Just as she steadied her breathing, trying to calm herself, she heard the slow, steady footsteps of the man outside the curtain—each step in rhythm with her heartbeat, until even her breath caught.

The gauze canopy lifted, and she instinctively turned inward, shutting her eyes and pretending to sleep.

There was a pause behind her.

But only for a moment—the rustle of clothes being undone followed, then the canopy fell again, the room sinking into deeper darkness.

Shen Yujiao’s eyelids fluttered; she dared not move.

She stayed still. He did not.

“Yuniang?”

She kept her eyes closed and murmured softly, “Mm.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

As his voice fell, the man’s tall frame pressed closer from behind, the faint fragrance of sandalwood mingling with the clean scent of soap from his bath, enveloping her—inescapable, like him.

Just as inescapable was the warm, firm hand that slipped around her waist.

That gentle but insistent strength guided her, and the man’s low, husky voice brushed against her ear. “Be good. Turn around.”