The fight in the deep alley abruptly ceased.
They turned their heads at the same time and saw Shen Yujiao in a dress the color of evening mist, lifting the veil of her hood. Her brows were tightly knit as she stood at the alley entrance.
The lovely red glow of sunset fell on her slender shoulders. She paused a moment, then stepped inside.
Pei Xia loosened his grip. “Yuniang.”
Xie Wuling withdrew his leg. “Jiaojiao…”
Both men wore bruises on their faces, their robes in disarray—utterly embarrassed. The fiercer their earlier fight, the more shame they felt now that Shen Yujiao had come.
Shen Yujiao stood before them. Seeing the injuries on their faces, her heart pounded; they had actually fought.
Xie Wuling’s recklessness could be forgiven—why had Pei Xia also lost his temper and joined in?
“You are both officials with rank—brawling in a side alley beside the Jingzhao prefecture. If someone sees this, what will they think?”
Shen Yujiao pressed her lips together. She’d planned to ask who struck first, but the words died on her tongue; asking felt pointless. Her eyes swept over their faces again.
Their injuries were about the same, though Xie Wuling looked paler. Meeting her gaze, he pressed his thin lips together and said, “I didn’t mean to fight—he said he wanted to talk, so I followed him in… I didn’t expect him to grab my collar and threaten me!”
Pei Xia frowned. “You were the one who spoke rudely first.”
Xie Wuling retorted, “You provoked me first!”
Pei Xia scoffed coldly: “Rogue.”
Xie Wuling snorted back: “Hypocrite.”
Shen Yujiao: “…That’s enough, both of you.”
Her tone held barely controlled anger; her pale, lifted face was stern. “Is this amusing to you—if this continues will you get anything from it?”
Xie Wuling’s peach-blossom eyes slid to Pei Xia with a slanting look. “I ask you the same—what’s the point of this?”
What a sycophant who always shifts with the wind.
Pei Xia’s split lip twitched; he said in a low voice, “If anyone should ask, I should be the one asking you—what’s the point of your endless clinging?”
Xie Wuling: “I’m the one clinging? Jiaojiao already promised to marry me. You’re the one refusing to grant the divorce now. By hanging on you’re only ruining the good match between me and Jiaojiao—what’s the point?”
“Good match?”
Pei Xia’s throat went dry. He no longer looked at Xie Wuling but turned to Shen Yujiao, voice hoarse: “If, that day, the one who fell into the water to shield you from the arrow had been me—would you still ask for a divorce?”
His gaze was so fierce it almost held her soul captive.
Her mind followed the hypothetical and her heart skipped. If it had been Pei Xia who fell and saved her that day…
The answer rose in her chest. Shen Yujiao’s eyes flickered; the firm resolution to separate that she once held now loosened, a sliver of doubt breaking through.
That confusion terrified her. She wouldn’t admit it, but she had to: if that day it had been Pei Xia instead of Xie Wuling who saved her, she would not have so decisively asked for a divorce.
Was her choice of Xie Wuling born of gratitude? No—that couldn’t be.
Then what was her feeling for Pei Xia? Was it merely gratitude, familial affection, marital duty?
Panic flooded her—books she’d read since childhood, teachings she’d been raised on, all had urged a woman to be faithful and constant, to keep virtue for her husband, to put her husband first and never be fickle. Those things were evil, fearful, and shameful in people’s eyes if she broke them.
Yet now, she found herself entertaining those shameful, fearful, forbidden thoughts.
Shen Yujiao stood frozen in place, eyes vacant, struck speechless.
Seeing this, Xie Wuling’s heart sank.
That sly Pei Shouzhen — he was deceiving Jiaojiao again!
Pei Xia, however, took in every flicker of emotion that crossed Shen Yujiao’s face. His heart, once disfigured by the flames of jealousy, seemed to find a trace of tender comfort in her confusion — like the first drop of spring rain after a long drought.
He knew it — his Yuniang wasn’t truly so cold or heartless.
“It’s getting late. Let’s go back,” he said.
Pei Xia walked toward Shen Yujiao, reaching to take her hand — but she avoided him.
A faint crease appeared between his brows. Shen Yujiao looked at him and said, “Brother Shouzhen, that kind of hypothetical no longer matters. What I wanted to say is still what I said that day — you might as well… you might as well do a good deed and let me be with him.”
Shen Yujiao pressed her palm tight against itself, forcing herself not to meet Pei Xia’s darkening gaze. A choice had to be made. She drew in a deep breath. “You and he have both treated me with immense kindness and deep affection. But I’m only one person — I truly have no strength to repay two debts of love. Brother Shouzhen, you have your kin, your clan, and Di Ge’er. But Xie Wuling is all alone, with no one to rely on. Please — just show some mercy, and allow me to be with him.”
The moment Xie Wuling heard that Shen Yujiao had still chosen him, his heart flared back to life. He quickly followed her lead and said, “Yes, yes, Brother Shouzhen, please just grant us your blessing. From now on she’ll be your sister, and I’ll be your brother-in-law. Whatever you need of me, say the word — I’ll go through fire and water without hesitation!”
Pei Xia: “…”
The fingers hidden beneath his sleeves clenched so tightly they turned white. His cold gaze cut toward Xie Wuling. “Who’s your brother? Don’t disgust me.”
Xie Wuling clicked his tongue inwardly, then looked helplessly toward Shen Yujiao. “I even backed down and called him ‘Brother’ already.”
He was actually a year older than Pei Xia! Calling him “Brother” — that was already letting him take advantage. How was he still not satisfied?
Shen Yujiao frowned and was just about to speak when Pei Xia suddenly lunged at Xie Wuling.
Xie Wuling instinctively dodged, but Pei Xia wasn’t attacking him — instead, he snatched the dagger fastened at Xie Wuling’s waist.
Xie Wuling was caught off guard.
“You want me to give you my blessing? Fine.”
Pei Xia handed the dagger to Shen Yujiao. “Kill me, and I’ll bless you.”
Shen Yujiao froze on the spot.
Xie Wuling was stunned as well. Had Pei Shouzhen gone mad?!
“What, you don’t dare draw the blade? Then I’ll help you.”
Pei Xia’s expression was utterly blank as he drew the dagger for her. The sharp blade flashed coldly in the blood-red glow of the setting sun.
He grasped Shen Yujiao’s hand, guiding the dagger slowly toward his chest, his calm voice a quiet spell: “That day, I already told you — if you want to leave me, it’ll only be over my dead body.”
“Yuniang, I’m giving you that chance now.”
He aligned the tip of the blade over his heart. “Just stab it in. Once I’m dead, you and Xie Wuling can fly away together, and no one will ever stop you again.”
Shen Yujiao’s mind went blank. Her wrist trembled as she tried to loosen her grip, but Pei Xia held her hand fast.
“Can’t do it? Then let me help you.”
His wrist suddenly pushed inward. Shen Yujiao’s face went deathly pale; she cried out, “No!”
Just as the blade was about to pierce his chest, another hand clamped hard over Pei Xia’s.
Shen Yujiao’s heart nearly leapt out of her throat. Following the arm upward, she saw Xie Wuling’s face, black with rage, teeth gritted as he glared at Pei Xia. “To force her like this — Pei Shouzhen, you’re unbelievable!”
Pei Xia slowly lifted his eyes, his dark pupils calm as still water. “And how is this any different from what you did that day?”
Was his love for Yuniang any less than Xie Wuling’s?
“I merely lacked the chance.”
Pei Xia looked toward Shen Yujiao. “If I had been the one by your side that day, I would have made the same choice he did.”
Pei Shouzhen’s devotion to Shen Yujiao — he, too, would have risked his life for her.
No less than Xie Wuling.
Then why could she only see Xie Wuling, and not him?
Shen Yujiao’s throat felt blocked, her chest hollow and uncertain, torn between fear and sorrow.
Whether it was Pei Shouzhen or Xie Wuling, she could not bear to see either of them die before her.
They were both irreplaceably important to her.
“Can’t bring yourself to do it?”
Pei Xia looked at his dazed wife, and in the end couldn’t bear to press her further. He let go of her hand.
The dagger dropped to the ground with a dull clang.
“Yuniang, I gave you your chance.”
Pei Xia bent down, scooping the stunned Shen Yujiao into his arms, his voice calm and even. “Since you couldn’t bear it, I’ll take it to mean you still have feelings for me.”
Affection, gratitude, familial bond — as long as it was some form of feeling, that was enough.
Even if it was self-deception, he was willing.
“Pei Shouzhen, you despicable man!”
Xie Wuling’s eyes turned blood-red with fury as he lunged to block him.
But Pei Xia turned his face slightly, the dark depths of his eyes showing no trace of emotion. “Xie Wuling, if you’ve got the ability, then kill me.”
Xie Wuling froze in his tracks.
“One day, the two princes will meet on the battlefield. When that time comes — either you die, or I do. Whoever dies first, won’t that fulfill the other’s wish?”
Pei Xia looked at him, the corners of his lips curving faintly. “I’ll be waiting.”
His tone was as calm as ever, the faint smile on his lips no different from usual — yet it sent a chill straight into the bones.
Xie Wuling’s back prickled with chills at that smile from Pei Xia.
That Pei Shouzhen—had he truly gone mad?
It wasn’t until Pei Xia left with Shen Yujiao in his arms and dusk fully cloaked the narrow alley that Xie Wuling came back to himself, the evening breeze cool against his face.
He bent down and picked up the dagger from the ground.
Gazing at its sharp blade, he recalled Pei Xia’s words before departing. The handsome lines of his face gradually hardened into steel.
Perhaps Pei Shouzhen was right—when the throne changes hands, only then will one know where the petals fall.
When that day comes, when blades are drawn between them, he will show no mercy.
—
After being carried into the carriage by Pei Xia, Shen Yujiao seemed to have lost her very soul. Her eyes were blank, and she sat mute.
Pei Yi, who shared the carriage with them, was terrified to see one of them injured and the other vacant, both looking utterly strange.
She wanted to ask, but the atmosphere was so oppressive and eerie that she bit her lip and dared not utter a sound.
When the carriage finally reached the prince’s manor and they were about to get off, Pei Yi mustered her courage and spoke: “Sister-in-law, you… you don’t look well. When you get back, ask the maid to brew you a bowl of calming tea.”
Then she turned to Pei Xia. “Sixth Brother, that wound on your face—better press it with a warm egg when you get back. Otherwise, it’ll bruise by morning, and you still have court to attend. It’ll look unsightly.”
Shen Yujiao glanced at her. “All right.”
Pei Xia also gave a faint “Mm.”
Seeing the two of them like this, Pei Yi didn’t dare speak again. She curtsied and hurried off toward the manor.
Once the carriage began moving again, Pei Xia looked at Shen Yujiao sitting silently by the window. After a long moment, he shifted closer and took her hand resting on her knee. “Yuniang.”
Feeling the warmth enclosing her fingers, Shen Yujiao’s eyelids trembled. At last, she turned to look at him.
But the instant their eyes met, her nose stung, and tears streamed uncontrollably down her face.
Seeing her cry, Pei Xia’s gaze darkened.
He reached up to wipe her tears—only to notice his knuckles were raw and bleeding.
Xie Wuling’s bones were indeed hard as iron.
Shen Yujiao saw the wounds on his hand as well, and her tears fell even harder—like beads from a broken string.
Pei Xia’s chest ached at the sight of her crying.
“Be good, Yuniang, don’t cry anymore.”
He gathered his small wife into his arms, letting her tears soak into his robe. When she didn’t resist, his embrace tightened.
The always-strategic, clear-minded Pei Xia now couldn’t tell what his wife’s tears meant.
Were they for Xie Wuling—or for the cruelty he had just shown her?
Yes. The way he’d forced her just now was indeed cruel.
But he couldn’t help it.
He was desperate to know how much space he still occupied in her heart, desperate to pull her heart back to him.
He had read so many books, studied countless military strategies, yet when it came to winning back his wife’s love, the brilliant Pei Shouzhen was as lost as a child fumbling in the dark.
Perhaps Xie Wuling hadn’t been wrong to call him an imitator—he truly could only clumsily copy him.
If Yuniang liked handsome men in crimson robes—then he could wear them too.
If Yuniang liked Xie Wuling’s sweet words—he could learn them too.
If Yuniang was moved by Xie Wuling’s willingness to risk his life for her—then he too was not afraid to stake his life.
“Yuniang…”
Pei Xia lowered his head, his thin lips brushing away the tears on her cheek, his hoarse voice carrying an unhidden trace of desire. “Give me another chance. Let’s start over. I’ll learn—learn how to love, how to treat you well. Whatever Xie Wuling can give you, I can too…”
Feeling her trembling lashes and uneven breaths, he lifted her hand and placed it over his heart. In his deep black eyes burned the most sincere, fervent plea. “My feelings for you are no less than his. Yuniang… won’t you look at your Brother Shouzhen once more?”
