That night, even after the palace banquet ended, neither Consort Xian nor Princess Shouan returned to their seats.
Shen Yujiao had a bad feeling. She wanted to ask Pei Xia but quickly realized he had been in the hall the whole time—he would know even less than she did.
If she spoke carelessly and revealed that she’d met Xie Wuling earlier, even the Yellow River couldn’t wash her clean.
So she kept her worries to herself, planning to ask her aunt in a few days instead.
By the time the couple returned home, it was already late at night.
She had drunk a little and was weary from the banquet. After bathing, her head barely touched the pillow before drowsiness flooded her, and her eyes grew heavy.
She didn’t know how long she slept before, half-dreaming, half-awake, her cheek began to itch slightly, her body feeling weighed down—as if a great stone were pressing on her.
Still half-asleep, she murmured softly and tried to push the heavy weight away.
But the “stone” sprouted vines that wrapped around her wrists and lifted them above her head.
Then that tingling heat at her cheek began to move downward—sliding over her flushed lips, her pale jawline, the slender curve of her neck, and to the faintly exposed collarbone beneath her thin underclothes…
It was wet, hot—strange and uncomfortable.
“Mm…” Unable to move her hands, she twisted slightly, trying to escape the strange sensation.
But the “vines” coiled tighter, creeping up her thighs, probing inward.
Though it was an autumn night, Shen Yujiao felt burning hot all over, sweat beading on her forehead. She blinked groggily—and when she saw the dark figure hovering over her, she gasped in shock. “My… Langjun?”
“Awake?”
The canopy was dim, and only the man’s hoarse voice could be heard.
Only then did Shen Yujiao realize her underclothes had been torn open—and that what bound her wrists were not vines, but the man’s large hands.
She was about to speak again when his tall, solid body pressed down against her. Leaning close to her ear, he murmured, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
She hesitated for a moment, then still walked over.
After all, she was holding the child—surely he wouldn’t act rashly.
She sat down beside Pei Xia. The faint, clean scent of sandalwood on him brushed her senses, making her thoughts waver for an instant before she asked softly, “What exactly happened last night?”
“Princess Shouan accidentally slipped and fell into the lotus pond.”
After a brief pause, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. “She nearly lost her life.”
A pity, really.
It was autumn, and the pond had dried up—had it been summer, the outcome might have been quite different.
Shen Yujiao froze, taking a long moment to find her voice again. “How—how could she fall into the lotus pond just like that?”
“The exact cause isn’t clear. But with her, a palace maid and an eunuch also fell in.”
Shen Yujiao’s eyes flickered slightly, and a sudden suspicion arose in her heart.
No—she didn’t even need to guess. It must have been Xie Wuling’s doing.
That man feared neither heaven nor earth.
But to throw a princess into the lotus pond… if Shouan had actually died there…
A shiver of fear ran through Shen Yujiao, and she unconsciously tightened her hold on the child.
Di Ge’er seemed uncomfortable, letting out a soft “wu” sound.
She immediately came back to herself, gently patting the child, while feeling Pei Xia’s steady gaze fall on her cheek.
“You left the banquet not long before Shouan did,” he said. “Did you happen to meet her?”
Shen Yujiao’s breath faltered slightly. Thankfully, the child in her arms gave her an excuse to lower her head. “She might have gone elsewhere. I didn’t see her,” she said softly.
“Really?”
“Mhm.” Shen Yujiao nodded, then pushed the child slightly toward him, changing the subject. “Look, Langjun—doesn’t he seem chubbier again?”
The shift was abrupt. Pei Xia stared at her evasive eyes for a long time before finally turning his gaze to the baby.
“Yes,” he said, brushing his long fingers gently over the child’s brow. “A bit chubbier—like you.”
“You mean… I’ve gotten fat?”
“I mean he looks more and more like you.”
Pei Xia laughed quietly, then his eyes flicked back to her, his lips pressing lightly together. “You’re not fat. You should eat more.”
It was a simple remark, yet perhaps because of the faint soreness left from the previous night, even that glance and those words seemed tinged with something unspoken.
For a while, silence fell between them, though the air inside grew increasingly warm.
“Yuniang, I—” Pei Xia began in a low voice.
“I—I think Di Ge’er is hungry,” Shen Yujiao interrupted hastily. “I’ll go feed him first.”
“…All right.”
Watching her flee in flustered haste, clutching the baby, Pei Xia’s lips curved with faint helpless amusement.
But the smile soon faded. He propped his hand against his forehead, staring at the thin trail of smoke curling up from the gilt incense burner, his expression gradually turning cold.
He knew he shouldn’t have lost control like that, yet the thought of her possibly meeting Xie Wuling in secret the night before made jealousy burn through his chest like fire.
It was that consuming jealousy that drove him to claim her again and again—like a beast marking its territory—wanting to leave his imprint, his scent, from her hair to her toes.
Only in those moments of tangled breath and joined warmth did he feel she truly belonged to him.
—
The news of Princess Shouan’s fall into the water soon became one of the most whispered topics among the noble families of Chang’an.
Some said the princess had been drunk and slipped.
Some claimed she was reaching for the moon’s reflection; others said she tried to save a palace maid who had fallen first.
Rumors abounded, yet aside from those who were there that night, no one knew the truth.
Even Consort Xian was in the dark.
When Princess Shouan recovered from her illness and the incident was brought up, she only said she had been drunk and missed a step.
Consort Xian, seeing her pale face, was both distressed and angry. She pointed at her and scolded, “In just a short while, the prince of Nanzhao will arrive in Chang’an to take you as his bride. You will stay quietly in the palace to recover—no more running about!”
After saying this, she ordered the palace attendants to keep a close watch, then swept out in a flurry of crystal bead curtains.
“Clatter—” the beads chimed crisply as they swung.
Shouan sat leaning weakly on the bed, her face wan and thin. One moment she thought of that detestable prince of Nanzhao who would soon arrive, and the next, of that tall, faceless man from the Mid-Autumn banquet night.
The strength of his grip had been terrifying—forcing her head down into the icy water, clearly intending to kill her.
But in the end, he had let go.
He hadn’t drowned her—he’d kicked her into the pond instead.
Her ribs still ached faintly.
Though she hadn’t seen his face, she remembered clearly: he was tall.
That height… that sudden attack… and the fainted Little Anzi beside her—
That man had clearly been helping Shen Yujiao!
It couldn’t be Pei Shouzhen; he would never strike from behind like that.
Besides, he was always the perfect gentleman—no matter how much he disliked her, he would never raise a violent hand against a woman.
But if not him… who else would risk committing a crime against the royal family just to help that Shen Yujiao?
Shouan frowned, thinking for a long while.
Finally, she sat up, her face dark as still water, and ordered a palace maid, “Go, and have a copy made of the guest list from the Mid-Autumn banquet.”
Since she was confined to the palace for now, she would simply investigate, one name at a time.
She refused to believe she couldn’t find even the slightest clue!
—
With each autumn rain came another wave of chill. The weather grew colder, and Pei Xia became busier.
He possessed an extraordinary memory, was well-versed in both ancient and modern learning, and eloquent in speech. At first, Emperor Zhaoning summoned him once every five days for scholarly discussions. That soon became once every three days—and later, the emperor wanted to see him every day.
According to Emperor Zhaoning, whenever Pei Xia lectured or discussed state affairs with him, the young man reminded him of his old teacher, Duke Wen Zheng Shen— Shen Yujiao’s grandfather, the former Grand Chancellor Shen.
Though Chancellor Shen had resigned back then due to differences in political ideals and disappointment with court affairs, Emperor Zhaoning still often thought of that teacher.
That man had truly been a paragon of integrity—devoting his life, heart, and soul to teaching the emperor what it meant to be a ruler and a man, sacrificing most of his life for the empire.
Unfortunately, the emperor had ultimately failed his teacher.
Yet it comforted him that the teacher’s grandson-in-law now served faithfully by his side—intelligent, composed, and in no way inferior to the late Duke Wen Zheng. That thought alone gave Emperor Zhaoning great solace.
The only thing he disliked about Pei Xia was his overly close relationship with the Second Prince, which gave the impression of factional involvement.
And now, the investigation into the assassination attempt on the Crown Prince during the river inspection had yielded results— all evidence pointed toward the emperor’s own maternal uncle, Duke Ying of the Sun family.
The Sun family, of course, stood aligned with the Third Prince.
At times, Emperor Zhaoning found the situation laughable. He was still in his prime—far from death—yet his consorts, his sons, and his ministers were already scheming over the dragon throne beneath him, each one waiting for him to die sooner.
Holding those incriminating documents, he asked Pei Xia, “Shouzhen, how do you think I should deal with this?”
Pei Xia glanced over the papers briefly, his expression as calm and unreadable as ever. With a composed bow, he replied, “If Your Majesty asks this as a ruler, then your minister answers—deal with it according to the Great Liang laws. Grant justice to the Crown Prince, and to the imperial guards who died protecting him at that banquet. But if Your Majesty asks as a father, or as a nephew, then it becomes a family matter, beyond the judgment of any outsider. Your Majesty surely already knows the answer in your heart—why ask your servant to comment on your household affairs?”
Emperor Zhaoning smiled faintly. “Pei Shouzhen, you…”
This young man was still different from his late teacher.
If the teacher were here, he would have fixed him with that stern gaze, lecturing him for a long time on principles and duty.
Indeed, his teacher had long warned him—his uncle was too greedy, unfit for heavy responsibility.
But that was his own uncle. Compared to the late emperor, that uncle had been like a father to him, showering him with care when he was still a powerless prince.
Before his mother’s death, she had taken his hand and said, “Rui’er, your uncle is your only family left. In the future… treat him well, as if you were repaying the filial devotion you owed me.”
He still couldn’t bring himself to be cruel.
In his heart, Emperor Zhaoning thought—this would be the last time. If his uncle erred again, he would tolerate him no longer.
Though he did not pursue charges against Duke Ying, the emperor found another pretext to harshly scold the Third Prince, and soon after demoted several of the prince’s close aides.
He had even intended to punish that young man named Xie Wuling—but just as his vermilion brush was about to mark the decree, Pei Shouzhen, standing nearby, mentioned casually, “This man—I’ve heard of him. Though he was born lowly, the son of a courtesan, he has a loyal and upright heart. While serving as adjutant in Ningzhou, he eliminated many river bandits and earned the favor of Marquis Zhennan.”
The emperor’s brush paused midair.
Just as Pei Xia expected, Emperor Zhaoning slowly lifted his gaze. “He is the son of a courtesan?”
That one question confirmed Pei Xia’s suspicion— Xie Wuling did, indeed, bear some resemblance to the late empress.
“Yes,” Pei Xia said calmly. “As far as I know, his mother was a boat courtesan from the Qinhuai River.”
The emperor lowered his eyes, thoughtful for a moment. Then, as if struck by some amusing idea, his expression softened into a faint smile.
“Since he’s a soldier who has fought and slain bandits for the realm, his service deserves merit. Let it be—this time, I shall overlook it.”
The brush turned aside from the name “Xie Wuling” and circled another minor official’s instead.
A single shift of the emperor’s brush could alter the course of a man’s fate.
Pei Xia stood silently to the side, eyes lowered, betraying no emotion.
This time, he told himself, would count as repayment—for the humiliation Xie Wuling suffered that night at the Mid-Autumn palace banquet, when he defended Yuniang.
—
In early October, the trees shed their leaves, and the autumn wind grew sharp and cold.
The greatest spectacle in Chang’an City was the arrival of the Nanzhao prince, Anxiyou, who rode into the city on a mighty elephant to claim his imperial bride.
The elephants were draped in brocade tapestries, their ivory tusks long and gleaming, their huge, muscular bodies exuding power and grandeur.
On the day they entered the city, the streets were packed with onlookers—citizens crammed shoulder to shoulder along Suzaku Avenue to watch the lively scene.
Though Shen Yujiao was curious, the thought of those crowded streets, shoulder to shoulder with strangers, made her decide to stay home instead, waiting for her maids, Xiaying and Qiulu, to return and describe it all to her.
“Madam, you should’ve seen it! Those ten elephants were each taller than our roof, and their legs—so thick! One stomp and a man would be crushed flat!”
“The Nanzhao prince wasn’t ugly, but not exactly handsome either. He’s got a big beard—makes him look much older than he is.”
“But honestly, their Nanzhao country must be poor! The betrothal gifts they brought were only about eighty chests. They’re marrying a princess, yet how stingy it all looked.”
Xiaying and Qiulu, both lively and talkative, gestured animatedly as they recounted the scene.
Listening to them, Shen Yujiao merely thought to herself— May Shouan be married off quickly. As long as she remains in Chang’an, she’ll always be a hidden danger.
She was, after all, a danger that could neither be killed nor easily removed—a truly vexing problem.
And Shen Yujiao wasn’t the only one with a headache over it. In the palace, Consort Xian also found herself at her wits’ end, faced with Princess Shouan’s endless crying, tantrums, and threats to hang herself.
“I won’t marry! I won’t marry!”
“That Anxiyou is old and ugly—he’s already thirty! He could be my father’s age!”
“Mother, please, I’m begging you—talk to Father, have someone else marry him! If not… if not, choose someone from the royal clan, a commandery princess, or even a palace maid—yes, pick a maid, give her a title, and send her instead!”
“Royal Mother, I’m your only daughter, the flesh and blood that came from your body—can you really bear to send me to that wild, barbaric land to suffer? If you’re truly so heartless, I’d rather die right now!”
Princess Shouan clutched a strip of white silk, sobbing hysterically, her tears streaming as she wailed.
Consort Xian was not unmoved—but the imperial decree had already been issued. And with Pei Shouzhen currently enjoying the emperor’s greatest favor, if she failed to fulfill her promise to him, he might very well withdraw his support from the Second Prince.
Weighing the two sides, Consort Xian hardened her heart and said to her daughter, “If you truly wish to die, I won’t stop you—go ahead. But if you still wish to live, then be still and prepare for marriage. No more foolishness. I will do all I can to prepare you a generous dowry, so that when you go to Nanzhao, you’ll still live in comfort and splendor for the rest of your days.”
“Royal Mother! Royal Mother—!”
Princess Shouan screamed in panic, but Consort Xian did not turn back as she left.
In the resplendent golden palace, only Shouan’s unwilling, muffled sobs remained.
No one knew how long she sat there, collapsed on the floor, until several palace maids came in to clean up the mess—the overturned cups and tables, the scattered debris, and the wrinkled strip of silk crushed in her hand.
“Your Highness, you are of imperial blood—please take care of yourself,” one maid whispered softly.
Under Shouan’s startled gaze, the maid gently pulled the white silk from her palm—and in its place, quickly slipped a small folded note into her hand.
—
The welcoming banquet for the Prince of Nanzhao lasted until late at night.
By the time Pei Xia returned to the rear courtyard of the Pei residence, Shen Yujiao had already extinguished the lamps and gone to sleep.
When she felt the man’s strong arms circle around her from behind, she caught that familiar, comforting scent and murmured drowsily without opening her eyes, “Langjun…”
Her soft response pleased Pei Xia greatly.
Pulling her small body completely into his embrace, his tall nose brushed the back of her neck as he whispered, “Mm. It’s me.”
Shen Yujiao was exhausted. She nestled against him obediently, mumbling, “What time is it?”
“Past midnight.”
“…Then it’s quite late.”
“Go to sleep,” she murmured.
Seeing how weary she was—and having drunk and socialized himself that night—Pei Xia did nothing else, only held her, resting his chin against her hair.
Just as he was about to close his eyes, a thought crossed his mind. He asked quietly, “Yuniang, would you like to go to the winter hunt?”
Too sleepy to think, Shen Yujiao just made a faint, drowsy sound of agreement.
Pei Xia paused.
“…Forget it. I’ll ask again tomorrow.”
But regardless of her answer, he knew he would only feel at ease if she were by his side.
The next morning, when Pei Xia returned from court, he brought up the winter hunt again.
Shen Yujiao froze slightly as she held her teacup. “You mean, I would go with you?”
Pei Xia said, “The trip there and back takes about ten days. If I petition His Majesty, he’ll likely grant the favor.”
“Ten days…” Shen Yujiao frowned slightly. “That’s quite long.”
After thinking a moment, she shook her head. “No, better that I stay. How could I leave Di Ge’er all alone in Chang’an? Langjun, you should go yourself.”
She couldn’t bear to part with their child.
But Pei Xia couldn’t bear to part with her.
“The child can stay with my aunt, or at my uncle’s estate—they can take care of him.”
“It would be fine for a day or two, but ten days is far too long. I’d feel awful imposing like that.”
Shen Yujiao shook her head again. Though it had been a long time since she’d ridden or hunted, once a woman became a mother, her heart was forever tied to her child. Just imagining being apart from Di Ge’er for that long already made her uneasy.
“Langjun, just attend His Majesty as you must. The child and I will wait for you at home.”
Pei Xia was silent for a moment, gazing at her. “So now that you have a child, you…”
Only care about the child, and not me?
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