The autumn sky held a bright, dew-wet moon.
The next day was the fifteenth of the eighth month. Since they were to enter the palace that evening, Shen Yujiao and Pei Xia went early in the morning to the Li residence, bringing their son Di Ge’er and gifts for the festival.
After lunch, Shen Yujiao sat for a while in the rear courtyard with her grandmother and aunts, then entrusted Di Ge’er to her aunt, Madam Cheng.
Madam Cheng held the child lovingly and said, “Don’t worry—go to the palace with Shouzhen. I’ll take good care of him.”
Only then did Shen Yujiao feel at ease, returning home with Pei Xia to dress and prepare anew.
A palace banquet was not like an ordinary feast; eating and drinking came second—appearance and decorum came first.
Though she held no formal title herself, she was the wife of the newly appointed top scholar, Pei Shouzhen, and the goddaughter of an imperial consort.
At such an occasion, mingling among the wives of high-ranking ministers, if she dressed too plainly, tongues would wag and criticisms would follow.
As the saying goes, a person is adorned by their clothes, and a horse by its saddle.
The mistress of a household ought to look the part.
Surrounded by her maids, they fussed over her appearance until late afternoon. Just then, a stewardess came from the front courtyard to report, “Madam, master says it’s almost time to leave.”
“All right, I’m coming.”
As her voice fell, from behind the inlaid sandalwood screen stepped a graceful, elegant figure.
The stewardess looked up—and was stunned.
The madam usually dressed in a clean and understated style, but today, dressed in her finest, she was radiant to the point of being dazzling.
Not only that stewardess, even her close maids were full of praise.
“Madam, you look truly beautiful today, like a fairy descending from the Jade Pool.”
“Madam is naturally beautiful—she just doesn’t like to dress up normally.”
“Madam should really dress up more often; look how lovely you are—I can’t bear to look away.”
“You not looking away doesn’t matter—what matters is that the master won’t be able to look away.”
They covered their mouths and laughed. Ever since that day in the study, the master and madam had been inseparable and affectionate, which gladdened the servants’ hearts—after all, when the masters were happy, their lives were easier too.
Hearing their teasing, Shen Yujiao chided them lightly, but didn’t linger. She took along Dongxu and went to the front courtyard.
A quarter of an hour later—
“Greetings, madam.”
“Greetings, madam…”
The servants in the front courtyard bowed as she passed.
Pei Xia was giving final instructions to his steward when he faintly heard the stir of greetings ahead. He paused, looked up—
—and saw the young woman walking toward him under the long corridor, splendidly dressed.
Gone was the pale morning dress; now she wore a dark red gauze robe embroidered with gold patterns, cinched at the waist with a jeweled belt that perfectly outlined her slender figure. Her lustrous black hair was coiled high, adorned at the center with a gold comb inlaid with red gems; matching tasselled hairpins hung on either side, and as she moved, the golden tassels shimmered in the autumn sunlight.
Even more dazzling than her jewelry and robes was her face, delicately powdered and rouged— her brows like distant mountains, lips like red cherries, skin whiter than snow. The skillful makeup only enhanced her natural charm.
Every glance, every smile, seemed to shine and stir the heart.
For a moment, Pei Xia was dazed—and regretful.
Such beauty should not be shown to others. He wished he could hide away this piece of flawless jade so only he could behold its gentle glow.
Shen Yujiao felt his gaze, tangible and hot upon her.
Following its direction, she saw him not far away—wearing a red official robe embroidered with golden branches, the belt at his waist hung with the osmanthus sachet she had made.
At this moment, he was staring right at her, his eyes deep and shadowed.
Her brows faintly lifted; when she looked again, that dark gleam was gone, replaced by a warm expression.
“Yuniang,” he called softly.
“Greetings, my lord,” Shen Yujiao approached and curtsied. “Forgive me for keeping you waiting.”
“Not long.”
Now that she was close, he could smell the faint scent of jasmine in her hair. Taking her hand, Pei Xia smiled. “To see you look like this—any amount of waiting is worth it.”
Now that they were close, his words were no longer as stiff as before.
But this man, once so oblivious to romance, suddenly learning how to tease and flatter, still made Shen Yujiao feel a little flustered.
She didn’t respond, only lowered her eyes, blushing. “Let’s go quickly; it wouldn’t do to be late.”
Pei Xia nodded, then suddenly thought of something. “Why aren’t you wearing your sachet?”
Shen Yujiao blinked, realizing he meant the osmanthus sachet. “I already tied a glazed-bead cord today—adding another sachet would be too much, so I left it off.”
“It’s Mid-Autumn today—that sachet fits the occasion perfectly.”
Turning, Pei Xia instructed Dongxu, “Run back quickly and fetch the madam’s osmanthus sachet.”
Dongxu made a small startled sound and looked at Shen Yujiao.
Shen Yujiao frowned slightly. “Langjun, it’ll just waste time—it’s only a sachet…”
“It won’t take long.”
Pei Xia smiled at her, but his tone to Dongxu cooled. “Why aren’t you going yet?”
Now that he held an official post, even without raising his voice he carried authority. Dongxu didn’t dare delay—she lifted her skirt and ran off toward the rear courtyard.
Shen Yujiao frowned. Truly, to make such a fuss over a sachet seemed unnecessary.
Perhaps it was simply his nature—to insist on perfection in all things.
It was a small matter, so she didn’t think much of it and got into the carriage with Pei Xia.
About a quarter of an hour later, Dongxu returned, panting, sweat beading her forehead despite the cool autumn air. “Here, here it is!”
The carriage curtain lifted and dropped again. Pei Xia personally tied the pale amber-colored sachet onto Shen Yujiao, then finally looked satisfied. “That’s better.”
What difference does it make? Shen Yujiao thought, puzzled.
It wasn’t until the carriage entered the palace that she understood.
After they alighted, they encountered the Minister of State’s family. After exchanging courtesies, the Minister’s wife smiled admiringly: “I’ve long heard that Scholar Pei and his wife were betrothed since childhood—so affectionate and in perfect harmony. Seeing you today, it’s truly so. Matching crimson robes, matching sachets—such a loving couple indeed.”
A little later, they met the wife of the Minister of Rites, who also exclaimed, “When I saw you from afar, what a well-matched pair—talented scholar and beautiful lady! That sachet must be embroidered by Madam Pei herself? Ah, how sweet—young couples are the best. You’re willing to sew, and he’s willing to wear it… how wonderful.”
From these various ladies’ words—admiring, envious, or wistful— Shen Yujiao gradually understood Pei Xia’s reason for insisting she wear the sachet.
She wasn’t certain.
After all, flaunting affection in public wasn’t something Pei Shouzhen would normally do.
She didn’t dwell on it. Quickly composing herself, she lifted her spirits, put on a gentle, dignified smile, and began exchanging polite greetings with the other officials’ wives.
The Mid-Autumn banquet was held at the Qianqiu Hall beside the Taiye Pool. The entire hall was elegant and compact, flanked by waterside pavilions built in the Jiangnan style. The corridors and arched bridges were made of white jade, the moonlight spilling over them like silver water—bright and translucent, like the heavenly bridge of the Moon Palace.
When the evening glow faded and night fell, the lanterns along the corridors and bridges were lit one by one. The warm candlelight illuminated the ornate, auspicious patterns painted on the palace lanterns, deepening the festive atmosphere.
Inside the grand hall, glittering with gold and jade, as the hour arrived, nobles, high-ranking officials, and their families took their seats in proper order.
According to rank, Pei Xia’s seat was at the end of the civil officials’ section.
When arranging the seating, Emperor Zhaoning had originally wanted to place this handsome young scholar closer to the front—after all, seeing such a fine-looking youth while drinking would be pleasing to the eye, making the wine taste sweeter. But then he remembered that troublesome girl Shouan—she had also taken a liking to Pei Shouzhen’s face. If the two sat too near, who knew what thoughts might start stirring again?
So, in the end, he instructed the chief eunuch to seat everyone strictly by rank.
Pei Xia and Shen Yujiao were seated together at the tail end of the civil officials’ tables. Next to them sat Pei Xia’s uncle, Pei Yin, the Minister of the Imperial Academy, and his wife.
Shen Yujiao had been slightly uneasy at first—if strangers sat beside them, trying to make small talk all evening would be unbearable.
Seeing that it was Pei Xia’s uncle and aunt, a family they often visited, she relaxed and began chatting comfortably with Madam Sun, Pei Yin’s wife.
Seeing the two women getting along warmly, Pei Xia and Pei Yin started discussing official matters on their side.
As Madam Sun was enthusiastically inviting Shen Yujiao to attend her nephew’s wedding next month, a loud announcement came from outside the hall:
“Second Prince and Third Prince have arrived!”
Everyone turned toward the doors. The Second Prince entered first with his consort, smiling gracefully, their demeanor poised and elegant.
The Third Prince, however, was unaccompanied by a princess consort. Walking beside him was a tall man in a deep green robe—
The man’s brows were long and slanted toward his temples, his eyes narrow, his lips vividly red—his face so strikingly handsome that both men and women might find themselves captivated.
Yet despite his beauty, no one would mistake him for the Third Prince’s favorite. Not only was his figure tall and broad, but between his fine brows lingered a chilling aura—
The sharpness honed from battlefields, the kind of presence that could slay with a single sword stroke and leave blood three feet deep—utterly different from the cloying softness of those who served through charm.
What a strikingly handsome man, everyone thought in unison.
And then, equally in unison, their gazes shifted toward another famously handsome gentleman in the hall—
The newly appointed scholar of distinction, Pei Shouzhen, wearing a bright crimson robe, standing tall and straight.
Red and green—such ordinary colors, yet the hardest to wear well.
And yet these two men made them both look magnificent.
One, refined and noble, like the wind through pines—elegant and composed.
The other, dazzling and imposing, like willows under the spring moon—vigorous and commanding.
“Who is that gentleman?” Madam Sun murmured to Shen Yujiao, her eyes bright with surprise. “I didn’t expect that besides our Sixth Young Master, there would be another man in Chang’an so extraordinary.”
Shen Yujiao: “……”
Her fingers tightened slightly on her lap. “He’s Xie Changshi—the one who discovered the gold mine at Little Peach Mountain.”
“Oh my! That’s him?” Madam Sun exclaimed softly. “I only heard that one of the Third Prince’s soldiers found the mine by divine guidance—never imagined that soldier would be so handsome.”
Madam Sun clicked her tongue. “Even without divine guidance, with that face alone, he could win himself a fine future.”
Shen Yujiao: “……”
Indeed, heroes and women think alike, she thought dryly.
When she had first seen Xie Wuling in Jinling, she’d thought exactly the same.
Sure enough, upon arriving in Chang’an, he immediately caught the eye of Eldest Princess Jinhua.
It only proved that for both men and women, beauty too vivid could be a curse.
As she was thinking this, she suddenly felt a burning gaze fall on her face.
Instinctively, Shen Yujiao looked up—and saw, not far away, Xie Wuling seated beside the Third Prince, those bright peach-blossom eyes turned directly toward her. Her heart skipped a beat.
She lowered her eyes at once, staring fixedly at the carved vine-and-grape pattern on the table, her heart pounding wildly.
I shouldn’t have come.
Regret welled up—she should have feigned illness, anything but come here tonight.
She had overestimated her own composure, thinking she could remain calm and unmoved. But…
Could she really stay unmoved? Truly act as though nothing was there?
Out of the corner of her eye, a flash of crimson flickered. The next moment, the hand resting on her lap was quietly taken in another’s.
She looked up—and met Pei Xia’s dark eyes, calm and steady.
“Your hand is so cold,” he murmured. Then he lifted the tea cup before him and held it out to her, his voice gentle. “You’ve been chatting with Aunt for so long—have some tea to moisten your throat.”
“Ah… yes.” Shen Yujiao nodded, reaching to take it—but he was still holding her other hand.
Was she supposed to take the cup with one hand?
Puzzled, Shen Yujiao hesitated—then Pei Xia brought the cup directly to her lips. “Drink.”
Shen Yujiao: “……!”
In front of so many people—he was feeding her tea.
Her eyes widened in shock, but Pei Xia’s expression remained calm, as if nothing were amiss.
With so many gazes around, Shen Yujiao dared not refuse. She took a quick sip from the cup and sat back straight. “Thank you… Langjun.”
Pei Xia smiled. “We are husband and wife—no need for thanks.”
After speaking, he picked up a handkerchief and wiped the corner of her mouth. “You drank so hastily, it’s gotten on your lips.”
Shen Yujiao’s face instantly flushed deeper. She lowered her gaze, not daring to lift her head, the same thought looping endlessly in her mind—
She shouldn’t have come. She really shouldn’t have come.
Even if the hall was vast, the guests many, and there was such a long distance between them— as long as those two men were in the same place, the tension in the air grew thick and sharp, making her feel as though she sat on needles, wishing she could sink into the floor and disappear.
Yet to others, her downcast, uneasy look only seemed like shyness.
Even Madam Sun chuckled behind her hand. “You two are so affectionate, this old woman almost feels embarrassed to watch.”
“Seeing them so affectionate, you must be finding it hard to stomach, no?”
From the upper right seat, the Third Prince cast a sidelong glance behind him. “Honestly, you’re quite a strange one. With so many charming beauties out there, you just have to fixate on a married woman?”
He almost added “a woman who’s even borne a child,” but found the words too crude and swallowed them back. Still, in his heart, he couldn’t admire Xie Wuling’s taste.
To his mind, women were all the same— as long as they had a pretty face, a slender waist, soft breasts, were obedient and gentle, and could bear children, that was enough.
All this nonsense about love and devotion—how dull.
Better to spend the time breaking in a few fine horses.
Having spent some time around the Third Prince, Xie Wuling knew his temperament well— a man who prized talent and bravery, generous and bold, but wasteful, cruel, and disdainful of women. Whenever the topic came up, his tone was almost always full of scorn.
Fortunately, such topics rarely arose between them; otherwise, Xie Wuling feared he wouldn’t be able to hold back from snapping, “You look down on women? Isn’t Consort Shu also a woman? Do you despise even your own mother?”
Now, hearing that “disappointed scolding” in the prince’s voice, Xie Wuling only said mildly,
“Your Highness knows as well as I do—her husband should have been me. It was Pei Shouzhen, relying on power and influence, who snatched her away… But one day, I’ll take her back.”
That was the reason he followed the Third Prince.
Xie Wuling understood it; the prince did too. So when it came to Shen Yujiao, the prince no longer commented— he merely sipped his tea and said lazily, “I went to such lengths to get you this chance to show your face before Royal Father. Don’t let your little lady occupy your thoughts so much that you forget why you’re here.”
“Rest assured, Your Highness.”
Xie Wuling answered lightly, lifted his own cup, pretending to drink— but his eyes, at the corner, once again slid downward.
Inside the golden hall, his Jiaojiao sat poised and luminous in her crimson gown, dark hair shining, her jade-like face softly radiant— she seemed to glow, brighter even than the moon outside.
He had always known—she looked stunning in red.
Her image from last year, dressed in scarlet bridal robes, was still burned into his mind, unforgettable.
D*mn that Pei Shouzhen.
Not only did he steal his wife, now he even had the nerve to mimic him— wearing that same red robe, parading it in front of Jiaojiao, as if to show off!
Xie Wuling’s fingers tightened unconsciously around the teacup. He had known that attending tonight’s banquet would make his chest ache from anger— but he missed Shen Yujiao too much.
If he didn’t appear… what if she forgot him?
Let himself stew in frustration, fine. Anything was better than being forgotten.
He lifted his cup and drained it in one swallow— but when he looked down again, Pei Xia suddenly raised his head and met his gaze.
Their eyes clashed— and in an instant, sparks flew like crossing blades.
Xie Wuling sneered silently.
What are you looking at? Get lost. Don’t block me from looking at my wife.
Pei Xia’s lips seemed to twitch faintly. Then he lowered his head, leaning close to whisper something into Shen Yujiao’s ear.
From Xie Wuling’s angle, he looked so close he might as well have been kissing her cheek—
That despicable, shameless hypocrite!
Crack!
The teacup shattered.
The attendants around him gasped. “Xie Changshi—your hand, you—”
The Third Prince turned at the sound. Seeing the shattered pieces and glancing down, he needed no explanation.
“Bring a new one,” the prince said coolly, then eyed Xie Wuling’s hand. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
Xie Wuling looked at the thin line of blood across his palm, then closed his hand. “It’s nothing.”
The prince gave him a long, assessing look. “Best not make a mess of yourself. It wouldn’t look good when you toast Royal Father later.”
“Yes.”
Xie Wuling lowered his gaze, eyes cold.
He knew Pei Xia had done it on purpose— that hypocrite was paying him back for the “thin horses” from before.
Just thinking of it made his chest tighten again— those two thin horses, in the end, Jiaojiao had sent back, saying he could keep them for his own use.
Had she misunderstood him?
Or… did she simply not care anymore?
Either way, both thoughts kept him awake for many nights, tossing and turning, unable to rest.
As he brooded, new announcements sounded outside the hall— several younger princes and princesses entered with their mothers, followed by the elder princesses and their consorts.
Among them were Eldest Princess Jinhua and Princess Shouan.
Princess Jinhua—he’d met her once, only to avert his eyes immediately. That woman was far too eerie; better to keep as much distance as possible.
But as for that Princess Shouan, in her lotus-pink brocade, he fixed his gaze on her beautiful face— and if looks could kill, he would have slit her throat right there.
“Wasn’t she supposed to be under house arrest?” he muttered.
“We know that,” the Third Prince replied softly, “but others don’t.”
The Third Prince tilted his head slightly. “She’s the princess who’s soon to be married off to Nanzhao. And today is Mid-Autumn. My father is a man who cares most about appearances.”
Xie Wuling gave a short laugh. “Heh.”
The Third Prince glanced at him. “Don’t cause trouble today.”
Xie Wuling pressed his thin lips together. “Mm.”
He understood. Even if he wanted revenge, he would have to endure for now.
Eldest Princess Jinhua’s seat was directly opposite the Third Prince. The moment she sat down, her gaze caught the man half-hidden in the shadows— the one in a dark green robe, Xie Wuling.
When she saw his slightly lowered eyes, the faint press of his lips, and that defiant, untamed expression— for a brief moment, she was pulled back more than twenty years.
Back then, she had been just a young girl, and Brother Jinghuai still very young too. He had sat across from her, silent and brooding.
No, she knew why—she knew exactly why he was unhappy.
The Empress intended to betroth Fang Shujing to Sima Duan. But Jinghuai loved Fang Shujing.
To love and not obtain—just like her.
To love and not obtain—until the heart went mad.
“Brother Jinghuai…” the fifteen-year-old Princess Jinhua had murmured in dazed longing.
“Brother Jinghuai…” the thirty-eight-year-old Princess Jinhua murmured again, just as lost.
When the eunuch’s sharp voice suddenly rang out announcing, “His Majesty the Emperor, Consort Xian and Shu, and the Crown Prince and his wife have arrived—” the Princess’s brow twitched violently. Her first reaction was panic: Brother Jinghuai, run!
She rose abruptly, startling the palace attendants beside her. “Your Highness?”
At once, every gaze in the hall turned toward her.
Her eyes flickered, and she came back to herself— the man across from her wasn’t Jinghuai, only some lowly official who happened to share his eyes by coincidence.
If he had been sensible and followed her obediently, she might have protected him. But instead, he’d been a fool—aligning himself with Sima Ze, and now even daring to appear at this palace feast…
Princess Jinhua’s lips curved. Then he deserves whatever comes to him—even death.
“Why so startled?” she said lazily. “I merely heard my imperial brother was arriving and stood up to greet him.”
She gave the attendants a slanted look, then slowly straightened the golden embroidery on her sleeve, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on the great doors of the golden hall.
Soon after, the eunuch’s cry rang out again, louder this time: “His Majesty the Emperor arrives! His Royal Highness the Crown Prince arrives—!”
All in the hall stood at once, bowing deeply and in unison: “We subjects respectfully welcome His Majesty and His Royal Highness. Long live the Emperor—long live, long live! Long live the Crown Prince—may he live for a thousand years!”
Standing at the lower end of the hall, Shen Yujiao waited as the richly dressed figures passed before her. When she finally dared to lift her gaze—
The Crown Prince wore a crimson robe embroidered with python patterns, his head bowed slightly, steps steady and even.
Pei Xia had told her: that during the Luoyang assassination attempt, the Crown Prince had only been frightened, not injured.
As for the mastermind behind it, though they had gathered some clues, it was a matter of great secrecy, and Pei Xia had not told her. He had only said, “When the time comes, you’ll know.”
He’d been so reticent that Shen Yujiao stopped asking. Sometimes, knowing too much was not a blessing.
As these thoughts drifted through her mind, the most exalted figures in the realm took their seats.
From the head of the hall came Emperor Zhaoning’s voice: “My loyal subjects, rise.”
The same stern tone from her memories— yet the vigor was no longer the same as it once had been.
Joining in with the crowd’s “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Shen Yujiao sat down again, and her eyes could not help but flick toward the high throne.
As she had suspected—the Emperor had grown old.
Elixirs and women had drained his vitality, leaving him aged and frail far earlier than most men.
Even if his face still looked ruddy under the lantern light, to Shen Yujiao’s eyes, dark energy coiled around him—his life nearly spent.
If he dies, all the better, she thought, lowering her gaze. A ruler so blind and biased, so muddled in judgment— his death would be a blessing to the common people.
Before long, the hall filled with the languid sound of pipes and strings, the soft, luxurious melodies of palace music drifting through the air.
Shen Yujiao’s thoughts wandered, drifting far from the golden hall— to her family somewhere distant.
Where were her parents and brothers now?
What were they doing this very moment?
Suddenly, a cry rang out from above—chaotic, frightened voices: “Your Majesty!”
Her brow furrowed; she looked up— and froze.
