Song of the Bright Moon Chapter 79

Shen Yujiao’s smile froze.

Under the man’s penetrating gaze, she lowered her lashes slightly and said in a quiet voice, “Was it because of Qingqing?”

Pei Xia’s brows drew together. “Qingqing? Who is that?”

Only then did Shen Yujiao realize—he hadn’t even bothered to ask the girl’s name before driving her away.

“Qingqing is the new maid we just bought,” she said.

Pei Xia’s jaw tightened.

So she did know the cause of it all.

And since she knew, why pretend ignorance?

That stifled anger that had nearly dissipated surged up again, pressing against his chest, his years of self-restraint trembling on the verge of collapse.

Just as he managed to steady his breath, he heard her soft voice again:

“Langjun doesn’t like that sort of girl? If not, next time I’ll find you another kind…”

“Shen Yujiao.”

The man’s deep, cold voice suddenly rang out, startling her.

In the two years of their marriage, he had never called her by her full name like that — yet today he did. And those dark eyes fixed intently on her — perhaps it was a trick of the light — seemed pitch-black and glacial, like an unfathomable abyss that no light could reach, sending an involuntary chill down her spine.

But that sharp chill lasted only a moment. In the blink of an eye, though his face was still tense, his expression had regained its usual composure, and his tone returned to its cool calm:

“In your heart, Yuniang, do you really take me for that sort of lecherous, lust-driven man?”

Shen Yujiao’s heart gave a jolt. She quickly shook her head. “No, I’ve never thought that of you.”

“Then why did you send another woman into my room?”

Pei Xia came around the desk, his steps slow and steady as he approached her, his gaze dark and deep. “Or is it that you think, if you shove a woman at me to occupy me, I’ll stop bothering you — stop forcing you to go against your will and give yourself to me?”

“N-no… that’s not it.”

As she watched him draw nearer, his tall, jade-like figure caught against the candlelight, his shadow fell thick and heavy, swallowing her whole.

Though he had neither raised his voice nor reddened with anger, something in him seemed changed — unfamiliar, and frighteningly so.

“Langjun, I’ve never thought of you that way, I only… only…” She unconsciously backed away until her lower back hit the edge of the table, nearly tipping over the steaming soup.

Pei Xia frowned, stopped advancing, and instead reached out to grasp her arm, pulling her toward him.

Caught off guard, Shen Yujiao nearly fell into his chest.

She managed to steady herself just in time, yet that solid chest so close to her and the faint sandalwood scent that surrounded him made her heart pound wildly, her thoughts scattering.

And above her came his relentless question: “Only what?”

She bit her lip lightly, took a small step back, and after steadying her breath, raised her face. “I am your wife, Brother Shouzhen.”

Her eyes trembled with guilt, unease, and a touch of fear. Fortunately, she remembered her purpose tonight — it was what held her upright beneath his sharp gaze. She went on, her voice low but firm: “Since I cannot attend to you properly, I shouldn’t keep you bound to me and make you suffer alone. Besides, for a nobleman to have a few concubines or chambermaids — it’s perfectly ordinary. I know you’re a man of honor, but you needn’t torment yourself so… I—I won’t be jealous. Truly.”

Pei Xia’s throat tightened; a bitter laugh stirred in his heart.

She wasn’t jealous.

But he was.

He, Pei Shouzhen — eldest son of the Pei clan, raised amid endless praise — had fallen so low that he was jealous of a vulgar street rogue.

How utterly absurd.

“Langjun?” Shen Yujiao’s voice trembled when he didn’t respond. His black eyes only grew darker, and that sense of strangeness and panic crept up again. She edged back. “Why won’t you… say something?”

Suddenly, his hand closed firmly around her waist. Seeing her lashes flutter in alarm, Pei Xia lowered his gaze. “Be careful — you’ll burn yourself.”

Her steps halted. Lips pressed together, she looked up at him quietly.

He didn’t withdraw his hand. Lowering his eyes, his voice was calm, almost flat: “What do you want me to say?”

“To praise you for being gentle and considerate? To praise your virtue and generosity?”

“Or perhaps you’d rather I follow your wishes — bring a few women into my room, so you needn’t trouble yourself with me, and I’ll no longer intrude upon your peace in the rear courtyard. Husband and wife in name only, living out the rest of our days in pretense?”

“Yuniang, you’re a clever woman. Do you truly believe our problem lies in not sharing a bed?”

“Ask your own heart.”

Pei Xia fixed his gaze on her, as though he could see straight through to her soul. “Yuniang, before others I can play the gentleman — but before you, I am your husband, and a man.”

“No man,” he said quietly, “can tolerate his wife’s heart belonging to another.”

That was why the hatred of a father’s killer and the hatred of a wife’s betrayer were both unforgivable.

Shen Yujiao seemed to have her very soul caught by his unnervingly calm gaze. Every word he spoke was like an invisible hand tightening around her heart — tighter and tighter, until she could barely breathe. Her lashes trembled; her lips parted in a broken whisper. “Langjun, I… I…”

Seeing the flicker in her eyes and the pallor of her face, Pei Xia closed his eyes for a moment.

After a long pause, he released her waist and exhaled slowly. “Enough. You still don’t understand.”

He turned away. “Go back.”

At the sight of his broad back, Shen Yujiao’s heart gave a violent throb. Before she could think, her feet had already moved.

“Langjun.” She wrapped her arms around him from behind, her soft cheek pressed against his back, her voice choked. “I understand now — truly, I do.”

His body went rigid.

Shen Yujiao no longer cared about anything else. Eyes shut tight, tears pricking at the corners, she whispered, “Since I came back with you, I am your wife. Everything before this — I’ll let it go, completely let it go. I mean it, I’ve decided…”

As she spoke, a rush of grief welled up in her chest, surging like a storm tide, swallowing her whole. It hurt so much she couldn’t hold back her tears.

They spilled down her cheeks like broken pearls, uncontrollable — the more she tried to suppress them, the harder they came.

Her tears soaked through Pei Xia’s blue robe, dampening his back.

At last, unable to harden his heart, he turned around and drew her into his arms.

“There, don’t cry,” he murmured softly.

It was meant to be comfort, yet that comfort only made her feel even sadder.

But what use was sadness now? To cut off a feeling—such a process was bound to hurt.

And for a moment, she couldn’t even tell why she was crying so fiercely.

Was it guilt for having wronged Xie Wuling?

Or shame for betraying Pei Xia’s trust?

Or was she crying—for herself?

Crying for Shen Yujiao.

For the Shen Yujiao beyond being someone’s daughter, wife, or mother.

Pei Xia silently held his wife, his arms unconsciously tightening around her.

All this grief—for that man, Xie Wuling.

But crying was good too.

Once the tears came, the thoughts that shouldn’t have been in her heart would flow away with them.

“It’s all right.” He lowered his head, his thin lips brushing gently across her soft forehead. When she’d cried herself tired, he took her hand and guided her to sit with him on the grand teacher’s chair.

Shen Yujiao’s head was foggy from crying. When she came back to her senses, she realized with a jolt that Pei Xia was holding her on his lap—her hips pressed against his firm thighs.

It was humiliating enough to lose control before him like this, and now she was being held like a child. She tried to rise, embarrassed, her voice still hoarse from crying. “I’m sorry, I lost my composure…”

She even saw the pale fabric of his collar—soaked through where her tears had fallen.

Shameful. Far too shameful. She was a mother, yet she looked like this.

“It’s nothing.”

Pei Xia curved an arm around her waist, pressing her back into his embrace. In the dim candlelight, his jade-like features were suffused with warmth. “They say the truest bond is between husband and wife. For you to show me this side of yourself—my heart is glad.”

Before seeing Xie Wuling and Yuniang together, Pei Xia had never thought there was anything wrong with the courteous distance between himself and his wife.

But after seeing them, he realized—in his daily life with her, she was always wrapped in a shell. That shell was gentleness, grace, propriety—the perfect noblewoman.

The Shen family had indeed raised a fine matron for the Pei clan. 

Yet the word “matron” felt more like a title—any well-taught gentle lady could fill the role.

But Shen Yujiao—there was only one in this world.

And that one and only Shen Yujiao, now in his arms, had shed that layer of decorum to reveal her true self beneath—

A woman who could cry, grieve, be aggrieved and sad; who could cling to him like a child.

It was hard to describe what he felt—his heart ached at her tears, yet being held by her as she wept filled him with an indescribable, intoxicating satisfaction.

He looked at her tear-reddened eyes and nose, and felt his heart melting with hers.

That melted affection flowed into his blood, pulsing through his veins, down to every inch of his body—like molten fire, burning through him, stirring an unspeakable thrill.

Pei Xia couldn’t help but lower his head, pressing his lips to her eyelids.

She trembled, but didn’t pull away—her eyes closed, and her delicate fingers clutched his robe.

So obedient.

A voice deep inside him sighed. Her tears seemed to carry both sorrow and sweetness, making him lose control as he followed their trail, kissing down from her lashes.

His lips brushed her tear-streaked cheeks—faintly salty.

Then he kissed her nose tip, and at last, her lips.

Today she wore the lip tint he liked best—a faint floral sweetness that made him crave more.

The grand teacher’s chair was wide enough to hold her fully within his arms, and to let him lean in, deepening the kiss.

At first, Pei Xia only thought her tearful face looked pitiful and tender—he wanted to comfort her with a kiss.

But once their lips and tongues entwined, that thought dissolved into greed.

The human heart is greedy—once it tastes sweetness, it always wants more.

All the more since she had said she had thought things through.

When the long, lingering kiss finally ended, Pei Xia drew back.

She was slumped weakly in his arms, breathing softly, her eyes, nose, and cheeks all flushed red; her lips glistened with moisture. His throat moved as he swallowed.

Desire is a bottomless pit, murmured a voice within him.

His long, slender hand gripped her narrow waist tightly. His gaze followed the curve of her pale neck downward—

Her jade-colored collar was loosened during the kiss, hanging open, and he could faintly catch the scent rising from the snow-pale skin beneath.

“Langjun!” Shen Yujiao cried in alarm.

She reached out instinctively to stop him. The man lifted his head slowly; his thin lips held a loose ribbon between them.

His usual composure was gone. His eyes glimmered faintly red as he rasped, “Be good, Yuniang—don’t torment me anymore.”