Foolish thing…
Is that what this is called?
Perhaps in the eyes of others, it truly was foolish — even Shen Yujiao herself sometimes thought it reckless, even absurd.
But that night, when Xie Wuling lay pale and dying in her arms, a kind of terror she had never known spread through her chest. It was as though an unseen, powerful hand had seized her heart, tightening its grip until every drop of blood was wrung out. Her whole body trembled uncontrollably; even breathing became difficult.
In that moment, she could no longer think of the Shen family, or the Pei family, or her child — only one thought burned clearly and fiercely in her mind:
He cannot die.
As long as he lived, anything would be acceptable.
Even divorcing Pei Xia, even being with him.
And he did live. When he heard her promise, his joy had been pure and unguarded — that brightness in his eyes, radiant and sincere, like a star shining through the night or sunlight streaming in spring — she could no longer bear to betray it.
“Aunt,” Shen Yujiao said quietly, sitting at the bedside, her porcelain-pale face calm as if ready to face death. Her voice was slightly hoarse. “I know that Brother Shouzhen is outstanding in every way, and that he has done immeasurable kindness for our Shen family. There could be no better husband. If not for Xie Wuling, I could have lived with him in harmony and respect, growing old side by side — the kind of couple others would envy as immortal lovers. But… I met Xie Wuling…”
He was the greatest turning point in her life — and for the first time, she learned that there existed in this world such an immense, blazing, unrestrained kind of love.
So this was what it meant to love someone — that even if one never spoke it aloud, it would shine through the eyes.
His affection for her was never hidden — like the sun itself, brilliant and unabashed. Whenever she appeared, his light fell wholly upon her.
She never had to guess what he felt, never had to work to please him, never had to fear that a smile or a glance might be seen as immodest or improper. She only had to stand beneath that sunlight — and the sun would shine upon her.
She knew well that choosing him would bring hardship, even ruin — like a moth rushing toward the flame.
But just as the pursuit of light and heat is the moth’s nature, so too is the pursuit of love and longing the nature of humankind.
“Aunt, perhaps you don’t know — if not for Xie Wuling, I might have died on the road while fleeing last year…”
Perhaps it was exhaustion from half a year torn between two men, or perhaps the weight of all these secrets pressing too long on her heart — now that the matter had been laid bare, she no longer wished to hide.
She told Madam Cheng everything — how she met Xie Wuling, how they came to know each other.
When Madam Cheng heard that her niece had been discovered by Pei Shouzhen on her wedding day, she covered her mouth in shock. “You… how could you be so bold!”
“Bold?” Shen Yujiao’s gaze wavered slightly. “That was the best choice I had at the time.”
She wanted to live — to live safely, together with the child in her womb.
A woman poisoned by her husband’s family, declared dead, the disgraced daughter of a condemned house — what other choice did she have?
She only wished to live — and within what power she had, live a little better.
Even now, she did not regret her choice. She had never once considered dying just to preserve so-called chastity.
That kind of foolishness, she would never commit.
“In Jinling, I begged Brother Shouzhen to let me stay — to treat me as if I were dead. But I was already carrying Di Ge’er then, and he refused.”
At that time, her feelings for Xie Wuling were not yet deep.
Thinking of her kin far away in Lingnan and the child within her, she had weighed everything and chosen to return with Pei Xia.
She truly meant to live a proper life with him — that farewell kiss in Jinling had been meant as a final goodbye.
But she hadn’t expected Xie Wuling’s obsession.
For her sake, he joined the army in Ningzhou, then traveled a thousand miles to find her in Chang’an. He appeared before her again and again, making her smile, saving her from danger, risking his life for hers.
“I knew I shouldn’t have let my heart waver,” she said softly, “but I did.”
Shen Yujiao closed her eyes briefly, steadying the storm of emotion inside her before continuing, “I’ve wronged Brother Shouzhen… but that night in Weinan, I promised Xie Wuling — I would never betray him again. Aunt, once this matter is over, I’ll ask Brother Shouzhen for a divorce. From then on, we will go our separate ways — each free to marry anew.”
“What?!”
Madam Cheng cried out, losing all her usual gentle composure, staring wide-eyed at the young woman before her. “Are you mad? To speak of divorce so lightly — you’ve truly gone insane!”
Shen Yujiao’s eyes flickered, then she drew in a steady breath. “I’m not mad. I’ve thought it through.
Xie Wuling left his home, risked his life, earned merit and honor — everything he’s done, everything he’s thought, has all been for me.
But Brother Shouzhen…”
The butterfly-like lashes trembled slightly as she lowered her eyes and said softly, “Brother Shouzhen is different. He has family, status, kin, a clan. With his standing, even if he remarried, he could easily find a gentle and virtuous wife from a noble house. Although our marriage was arranged from childhood, before we wed, we never met—not much affection ever existed between us. As for after marriage…”
She had once been moved by him, but he only treated her with the courtesy of a gentleman fulfilling his promise.
She did not blame him. It was only that she lacked the ability to enter his heart.
“Aunt, to Brother Shouzhen, the woman he was to marry was a daughter of the Shen family. Whether that woman was Shen Yujiao, Shen Yurou, Shen Yuzhu—or any other name—it made no difference.”
“But the one Xie Wuling wishes to marry is not a ‘Miss Shen.’ He only wants me, Shen Yujiao.”
Only when she was with Xie Wuling did she realize that Shen Yujiao could exist purely as herself.
He never asked about her family background, never cared about her origins. Even knowing she was no longer ‘chaste’ and carried two children, he never minded.
He wanted only her.
“Aunt, I—”
“Don’t call me ‘aunt.’”
Madam Cheng’s face was dark as iron, her brows drawn tight, her tone full of bitter disappointment. “How could the Li family have such a foolish niece! You would throw away the dignity of being a matron of the Pei clan, abandon a husband of limitless prospects and two obedient children, all because of some low-born vagabond? You say you’re not mad? You’re clearly out of your mind!”
“Don’t blame me for being harsh. Though I am but your aunt and not your mother, if your mother were here to hear such nonsense, she too would scold you as unruly and shameless!”
“Aunt, I know what you’re saying, I—”
“You don’t know! If you did, you wouldn’t be saying such disgraceful things!”
Love ran deep, and so did her reproach. Madam Cheng had no daughter of her own; she had always cherished Yujiao as one. To hear her niece speak of casting away a good life for the sake of a man—it made her heart ache with fury.
“All those years of studying the classics and learning proper conduct—what were they for? And now, all for your selfish desires, for this so-called love between man and woman, you would defy morality, abandon husband and child, and commit such outrageous folly! Have you not read the Book of Rites? It clearly says, ‘When one’s likes and dislikes lack restraint, heavenly reason is extinguished and human desire runs rampant—then arise the hearts of rebellion and deceit, and acts of lust and disorder!’”
“Yuniang, if everyone were like you, chasing selfish desire and ignoring propriety and law, what would become of the world? The ruler would cease to be a ruler, the minister no longer a minister, husband not a husband, son not a son. When the order of rites and music collapses, chaos follows!”
“If you won’t listen to those lofty principles, then let’s talk about what’s right before you. Have you thought about this? If you divorce Brother Shouzhen, when your parents and brothers return to the capital—knowing that the Pei family’s grace is what allowed them to come home safely—how will they face him, when their daughter repays kindness with betrayal and brings shame upon their name? And your son, Di Ge’er—when he grows up, how will he bear knowing his mother was a fickle, faithless woman? What of the gossip, the pointing fingers? When your reputation is ruined and your whole clan’s face dragged through the mud—have you thought of that?”
Seeing her niece’s face slowly turn ashen, Madam Cheng felt a twinge of pity but knew hard words were needed. If she didn’t make her understand now, the girl would regret it for life.
“Yuniang, my good child, if you truly believe I speak for your own good, then heed my advice.”
Madam Cheng took her hand, her loving eyes glistening with tears. “In life, there are many things beyond our control—especially for us women. I understand how you feel. That young man, Xie Wuling, has done much for you, and his feelings are sincere. It’s natural that you’d be moved. If you were still an unmarried girl, and wished to be with him—even if it meant marrying beneath yourself—then so be it. But now you are a wife. Between you and him, there is fate but no destiny. If you persist, this ill-fated bond will only bear bitter fruit.”
“Life is long. The passion between man and woman—fleeting joy, lasting constancy—it’s all the same in the end. They say, ‘When you marry a rooster, follow the rooster; when you marry a dog, follow the dog.’ And Shouzhen is such a good man—better than any lantern could help you find. How can you not cherish him?”
Madam Cheng frowned and sighed. “If your elder or second brother ever came to me saying they’d fallen for some courtesan and wanted to cast off their wife for her, your uncle and I would break their legs with a stick and disown them rather than allow such disgrace in the Li family! Think of your Qingyang Shen clan—upright for generations, a house of scholars and virtue. Your grandfather, Lord Shen Wenzheng, was incorruptible, his name recorded in history… Yuniang, you were his most beloved granddaughter. If his spirit knows that his dearest little girl has brought shame to the family name—could he rest in peace?”
Madam Cheng continued to persuade her for a long time, even mentioning the marriages of cousins and the prospects of younger nieces.
After all, in great families, all branches are bound together—one’s rise lifts all, one’s fall brings ruin to all. She could not let Yujiao act willfully.
Shen Yujiao felt as if one mountain after another was pressing down upon her shoulders—each one heavier than the last, crushing the fragile courage she had so painstakingly gathered.
The weight of responsibility was so heavy that she wanted to crawl back into the shell of being a “virtuous and gentle woman,” to become a hollow imitation of one.
Unless she could cast everything aside—follow Xie Wuling like the Butterfly Lovers, turning into butterflies together in death—only then could she truly be with him.
Otherwise, as long as she lived, everything her aunt had said would remain her lifelong burden and sin.
Madam Cheng’s lips were already dry from speaking so much. Seeing her niece still sitting there quietly, eyes empty, face blank, saying nothing—it was impossible to tell whether she had listened at all.
At last, Madam Cheng was tired too. She released her hand, her voice firm and heavy: “There are countless ways in this world to repay kindness—but sacrificing yourself is not one of them. In the end, whether you choose a man for your private desire, or choose an entire family for the sake of duty, you must think carefully.”
Shen Yujiao said nothing. Only when Madam Cheng rose to her feet did she also stand up beside the couch.
Madam Cheng raised a hand. “No need to see me off.”
Shen Yujiao’s expression dimmed slightly. She bent her knees and curtsied. “Aunt, please take care on your way.”
Madam Cheng looked back at her, her face filled with complex emotion, then finally sighed deeply and turned to leave.
But the moment she opened the door, she froze.
Under the crisp, clear light of late autumn, there stood Pei Xia—dressed in moon-white robes, hands clasped behind his back—quietly waiting in the corridor.
Madam Cheng’s expression changed instantly, her body stiff at the doorway.
Hearing the sound of the door, Pei Xia slowly turned around.
As if he hadn’t noticed the color draining from Madam Cheng’s face, he lifted his hand in a formal bow. “I greet Aunt.”
Madam Cheng’s heart pounded violently. She glanced back toward the room, forcing down her unease, and managed a stiff smile. “Shouzhen, when did you arrive? It’s not even midday yet—why have you come back already?”
Had the servants not announced him? Had he overheard anything?
At the thought, regret stabbed her—she should never have dismissed all the maids. If she had even left Qiao Momo to stand watch outside, it would have been better.
But in broad daylight, who could have expected Pei Xia to come to the rear courtyard?
“Not long ago,” Pei Xia replied. “Seeing that Aunt and Yuniang were speaking, I didn’t wish to disturb you.”
“I see.” Madam Cheng forced a smile, thinking to herself that sometimes excessive propriety could indeed bring misfortune.
“We weren’t discussing anything serious—just chatting idly, talking of family matters. Since you’re back, I’ll take my leave.”
“It’s almost noon,” Pei Xia said gently. “Aunt, stay for lunch before you go.”
“No, no, I just remembered there are still matters at home that need my attention.”
Ever since realizing her niece’s forbidden thoughts, Madam Cheng had begun to feel a kind of shame when facing Pei Xia. “Shouzhen, no need to see me off. I can find my own way.”
But Pei Xia nevertheless escorted her all the way to the courtyard gate before stopping, respectfully seeing her off with his gaze.
Madam Cheng walked several paces, then turned to look back at the tall, composed figure standing by the gate. She couldn’t help but sigh again.
What an excellent son-in-law—how could Yuniang have lost her senses like this?
She could only hope her niece would take her advice to heart, bury those reckless feelings deep within herself, and live quietly, steadfastly, at Shouzhen’s side.
That was Madam Cheng’s hope—but it would soon be shattered.
Inside the room, the faint scent of incense curled upward. Shen Yujiao sat by the couch. When she saw Pei Xia stride toward her, her heart seemed to skip a beat.
But soon she steadied herself. Things had already come to this—there was nothing left to hide.
“Brother Shouzhen,” she said softly.
She tried to stand, but Pei Xia pressed her shoulder lightly, guiding her back down.
He sat beside her, and from the wide sleeve of his robe took out a small dark-blue porcelain box. “The matter outside has been mostly handled. Once His Majesty returns to court tomorrow, it will be settled.”
Shen Yujiao looked up in surprise. “The imperial carriage returns tomorrow?”
He hummed in confirmation. “I’ve been occupied these days with state affairs and haven’t spent enough time with you and the children. Once this is over, I’ll make it up to you.”
“…”
“Last night I noticed the wound on your palm had healed. This is a new ointment developed by the Imperial Medical Bureau—they say it works wonders for fading scars.”
As he spoke, he opened the porcelain box. Inside was a cream-white salve. He dipped his fingers in and reached for her hand.
When she instinctively drew back, he acted as though he hadn’t noticed, gently holding it again. “Your hands are beautiful—it would be a shame if they were scarred.”
Back in Weinan, when Pei Xia had asked about the mark, she’d told him she’d cut herself accidentally while harvesting reeds.
But now, watching his fair, slender fingers calmly spreading the ointment, a wave of guilt welled up inside her.
This wound had been made for Xie Wuling—yet it was Pei Xia who now tended it with such care.
She had already been wrong to harbor a divided heart. How could she continue deceiving him and quietly enjoy his tenderness?
“This wound,” she said softly, “was not from cutting reeds. I… used a dagger myself.”
His fingers paused mid-motion.
Pei Xia lifted his gaze to her.
His eyes were deep and dark, always tranquil as still water—so calm that whenever he looked at her, Shen Yujiao felt as though her very soul were being seen through.
But today, having resolved to confess, she found herself strangely unafraid—almost reckless in her surrender. She met his gaze and said, “That night, Xie Wuling had a high fever. He needed to drink water, but there was none boiled nearby. So… I fed him with blood.”
Pei Xia’s brow creased sharply.
Looking again at the faint scar, he found it unbearably glaring.
For that man, she had gone so far as to harm her own body…
Seeing the darkened look on his face, Shen Yujiao slowly withdrew her hand. “The things I said to Aunt just now—you heard them, didn’t you?”
Pei Xia was silent for a moment, then said, “I heard two sentences.”
Shen Yujiao’s gaze flickered. “Which two?”
Pei Xia fell quiet, his thin lips pressed into a straight line.
He recalled—just a quarter of an hour earlier, as he’d reached the door and was about to knock, he’d heard his wife’s familiar voice from inside—
“Xie Wuling left his home behind, risked his life, built his name through blood and fire. Everything he’s done, all that he’s longed for—has been for me alone.”
“Brother Shouzhen is different… even if he were to remarry, he could always find another high-born wife. What he’s marrying is the daughter of the Shen family—whether it’s Shen Yujiao, Shen Yurou, Shen Yuzhu, or even Shen Jia, Yi, Bing, or Ding—it makes no difference…”
Pei Xia, gifted and with an excellent memory, remembered each word clearly. Every syllable had pierced into his heart like shards of ice in midwinter.
Now, he looked straight into his wife’s dark, lucid eyes, his voice calm as he repeated those two sentences aloud.
When he saw her lashes tremble, his lips curved into a faint, self-mocking smile. “After that, I didn’t listen any further.”
He wasn’t someone who liked to eavesdrop. And besides, the rest of what she’d said would only have been unpleasant—why seek to torment himself more?
Shen Yujiao sat still, her heart a swirl of conflicting emotions.
After a while, her fingers, resting on her knees, tightened over her pale jade skirt. She lowered her eyes, voice hoarse. “Brother Shouzhen… let’s… divorce.”
The midday light slanted through the carved window lattice, scattering mottled patterns across the couch—and across their shoulders.
Time seemed to freeze in that instant.
Silence. Inside and outside the room, all was still.
After a long while, Pei Xia looked at the woman before him. His throat moved, and he spoke in a low, rough voice. “For that man—Xie Wuling?”
His gaze was like the sea at night—calm on the surface, but beneath it surged unseen tempests.
Shen Yujiao’s fingers clenched tighter around her skirt. A flicker of hesitation rose in her heart, but only for a moment. Then she exhaled softly. “I don’t want to deceive myself anymore, nor do I wish for you to keep deceiving yourself—endlessly enduring and giving way for my sake.”
Perhaps because the hardest words had already been said, her fear eased somewhat. Her voice softened: “You’re a good man, and you’ve been kind beyond measure to me and to the Shen family. You don’t deserve such injustice—nor to be trapped by someone like me any longer. Last year in Jinling, I told you—if you let me go, you’ll find a better wife…”
“A better wife?”
Pei Xia’s eyes flashed with a cold, cutting irony. “You mean, as you said—Shen Yuzhu, Shen Yurou, or any Shen Jia, Yi, Bing, or Ding?”
Shen Yujiao was speechless.
“Yuniang,” he said, his tall, lean frame leaning toward her, his voice low and detached, “In your eyes, what kind of man am I? A libertine who can marry any woman he pleases?”
Her face turned pale.
As he leaned closer, the faint scent of cold sandalwood surrounding him enveloped her like an invisible net. Her throat tightened; instinctively, she leaned back. “No… that’s not what I meant.”
Pei Xia gave her a long, heavy look. He raised a hand, hooking it around her waist. “Then what did you mean?”
“I meant—you’re a good man. If you wished, you could easily marry a noblewoman a hundred times better than me.”
Her narrow waist was caught firmly in his grasp; there was nowhere left for her to retreat. She looked up at him, her dark eyes glimmering with sorrow. “I know I broke my promise first—I’ve wronged you. But that night, Xie Wuling nearly died because of me… I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing…”
“You mean to repay a life-saving debt—with your body?”
Seeing her struck speechless, Pei Xia’s lips curved faintly, his fingers tightening on her waist. “There are countless ways to repay gratitude—as I said before, aside from you and our son, anything I own could be given to him. Isn’t that enough?”
His grip was almost bruising. Shen Yujiao frowned in pain but didn’t pull away—she only looked at him and said, “If it were anyone else, that would be enough. But to Xie Wuling—it’s not a question of enough; it’s whether he wants it.”
Her voice faltered, but she forced herself to continue. “Gold, jewels, rank, and power—none of that is what he seeks. He came all the way from Jinling to Chang’an. What he seeks—Brother Shouzhen, do you truly not understand?”
Of course Pei Xia understood.
That shameless man’s covetousness toward his wife filled him with loathing, resentment—hatred to the bone.
His face darkened; cold light shadowed his gaze. “If he dares to use gratitude to coerce you, then we have all the more reason to ignore him.”
“It wasn’t coercion,” Shen Yujiao whispered, biting her lip. “It was my own promise.”
Her voice trembled. “That night, he was dying—already speaking his last words. I was afraid he wouldn’t make it… so I promised him— I’d marry him.”
The moment those last three words fell, the hand at her waist suddenly tightened, hard enough to crush bone.
Shen Yujiao gasped in pain and tried to push him away. “Brother Shouzhen—please…”
“You’re marrying him—then what about me?”
The man’s grip loosened slightly, yet his hand still held fast. “Yuniang, where does that leave me in your eyes?”
Shen Yujiao looked up, meeting Pei Xia’s steady gaze.
Clear and cold, yet so sharp it seemed to pierce straight through her shell, cutting into her very soul.
Her heart trembled. She turned her face aside, murmuring softly, “I’m sorry…”
“I don’t need your apology.”
Pei Xia leaned forward; the distance between them vanished in an instant. His dark eyes locked on hers. “I only ask you—where does that leave me?”
“I… I…”
Shen Yujiao’s throat tightened. The forceful, pressing Pei Xia before her made her heart pound with panic; her voice faltered and stuttered. “Last year, it was only because of the child that you brought me back. Now that the child is born, and since he is a son of the Pei family, after we separate, he will remain in the Pei household. Your duty toward me can be entirely devoted to the child—you need bear no further burden toward me, nor be bound by it. Allow me, this unfilial, unvirtuous, disloyal, and impure woman, to vacate the position of the Pei family’s principal wife.”
“The noble ladies of Chang’an are as splendid as blooming flowers. Once we part, you will be a free man—you can find another good woman to manage your household and bear your children. As for me—you have already shown me every kindness and righteousness. It is I who owe you far too much. If in this life I have the chance, I will strive to repay you. And if I cannot repay it all, then in the next life I will remember your grace, even if I must be a beast of burden.”
She lifted her face, her dark eyes glimmering beneath the soft autumn sunlight. “Brother Shouzhen you are a gentleman—virtuous, kind, and magnanimous. Rather than continue to let us both suffer, why not grant me and him your blessing?”
At these words, Pei Xia was silent for a moment before letting out a faint, mirthless laugh. “A gentleman, granting his blessing?”
“Yuniang, if I grant you two my blessing—then who will grant me mine?”
Shen Yujiao froze. “Shou—”
Before she could finish the word, the large hand at her waist suddenly pulled forward.
Caught off guard, she fell straight into the man’s warm, solid chest.
The deep, elegant scent of sandalwood enveloped her instantly. Her forehead throbbed from the impact; as she lifted her hand to rub it, a low male voice rumbled above her.
“If being a ‘gentleman’ means handing over one’s own wife to another man for the sake of their happiness…”
Shen Yujiao looked up in shock, just as the man before her lowered his head, expressionless. His thin lips brushed her ear, his voice low, rough, and cold: “Then such a gentleman—had better not be one at all.”
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