Chapter 16

A breeze brushed against the window lattice, making a soft, whispering sound.

Her pearl-and-silver earrings gently tapped against her earlobes, stirring a faint itch. Xu Yunqi rubbed them, then her gaze fell on that sash. She walked over slowly, took it from his hand, and began to tie his robe for him.

Her expression was gentle and composed, her movements neither too light nor too heavy—as if she had always done this, as if they were the most ordinary of husband and wife.

For the first time, standing this close to him, she realized just how tall he was—lean and upright, broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted. The sheer weight of his presence bore down on her, easily enveloping her entire frame. Xu Yunqi steadied herself and slowly worked at his belt.

She had never done this before and had no real method to it.

Pei Muheng seemed not to notice. He stood with his arms slightly extended, quietly watching her fuss with it. Dim light drifted across her form. Today she had styled her hair in a “following-the-clouds” coiffure, her glossy black tresses framing a face fairer than frost and snow. He could not quite read her expression, only saw her thick lashes blink gently, her delicate nose straight and refined, her cheeks veiled in a faint pink—a soft, radiant loveliness.

A peculiar stillness hung in the hall, as though some silent undercurrent was stirring.

Since she understood his intent, Xu Yunqi did not dwell on the belt. She tied a simple knot and let go.

Pei Muheng glanced at the clumsy result, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

That barely perceptible movement did not escape her notice.

She looked up at him: clean, sharp features, handsome brows and eyes with a hidden edge.

When Pei Muheng’s gaze swept toward her, Xu Yunqi looked down again.

As usual, she went to rinse her mouth first, while Pei Muheng lifted the curtain and stepped into the canopy bed.

Xu Yunqi glanced toward the bed, then walked slowly to the washroom. Yinxing had prepared a basin of warm water. Xu Yunqi stood before the stand, methodically brushing her teeth with a lamb’s-wool brush, washed her hands and face, then instructed Yinxing:

“Call Old Madam Chen and have her prepare hot water.”

Yinxing, unaware of the situation, was puzzled. Before she could ask, Xu Yunqi had turned and gone back into the inner chamber.

Yinxing picked up the bronze basin and headed through the corridor to the back quarters, following her mistress’s instructions. Old Madam Chen was in the back quarters preparing the next day’s breakfast. Hearing this, she understood immediately. “You’ve had a long day. Rest now—I’ll keep watch tonight.”

Without giving it much thought, Yinxing yawned and went to her own room.

The inner hall was spacious, lit by three palace lamps. It was not bright, but bright enough to see each other clearly.

Xu Yunqi thought they did not need them.

Earlier today, Grandmother had pressed them about heirs, and tonight Pei Muheng had decided to consummate the marriage—the intent was obvious.

Xu Yunqi blew out the lamps, stood still for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the darkness, then slowly made her way toward the canopy bed.

The beaded curtain clinked softly, breaking the stillness of the inner chamber.

As she stepped up to the bed, she remembered something and asked Pei Muheng: “Third Master, would you like some tea?”

Her voice was soft and delicate, enough to stir anyone’s sympathy.

“I’ve already had some,” he replied gently.

Xu Yunqi lowered the bed curtain, plunging the canopy into complete darkness.

She climbed onto the bed and instinctively reached for the thin quilt—only to brush against a wrist.

Xu Yunqi froze, quickly pulling her hand back. She had clearly placed the quilt here—he must have moved it.

Pei Muheng’s hand still carried the lingering warmth of her touch. He said calmly, “Sleep.”

In the mountain nights of April, a dampness hung in the air. Xu Yunqi was used to draping a thin quilt over her chest—but with it moved, how was she to sleep?

No sooner had her slender figure lain down than a broad palm covered hers.

Her body tensed for an instant, then slowly relaxed.

She had long been prepared for this. It was not unfamiliar to her—as a teenager reading medical texts, she had learned of marital relations. Back then, curiosity had outweighed everything. It was only later, accompanying her grandfather in his practice, that she saw young girls who had given themselves over in confusion, only to face irreversible consequences. Her curiosity had vanished entirely.

Later still, she had even treated such afflictions in others.

Marital relations were but human nature—like drinking water, like food and desire.

Xu Yunqi was open and cooperative.

Pei Muheng, born of noble blood, understood all too well what a legitimate heir meant to him. Were it not for his need to overcome his aversion to touch, the consummation need not have been delayed until now.

Pei Muheng encircled her slender waist, looking at her fair, docile face. His movements were not hurried. He was never one to reveal his hand easily, but instead proceeded with an unhurried ease, showing a practiced control.

An unfamiliar bed, unfamiliar friction, force and heat, the mingling of scents.

No words were exchanged; they moved in unspoken harmony, both composed and steady.

Xu Yunqi’s slender fingers gripped the bed frame, the mattress. Her gaze drifted beyond the curtain.

Suddenly, she met his dark eyes, catching her off guard. She froze, then quickly looked away, drawing a deep breath.

He pressed forward, inch by inch. Heat spread from her neck to her ears. Her pearly white teeth bit down gently—she made not a sound.

In that brief glance, his gaze had been calm, even peaceful—revealing nothing at any time. She too suppressed her instinct and did not break the silence.

Like molten lava, heat surged in silent clamor. Their breath mingled in the confined space, yet somehow they maintained an eerie balance.

Neither looked at the other. Neither yielded.

Outside, fireworks exploded at their peak, and the cheers of young girls rose into the sky—a fitting cover for the gradually intensifying contest within the curtains.

When it was over, the bustle of the traveling palace was fading into the night. The occasional drunken voices of courtiers drifted by in twos and threes.

Xu Yunqi retreated to the corner, gathering her damp clothes and slowly wiping the fine sweat from her face.

Pei Muheng sat across from her, draping his dark outer robe over his well-defined frame. His deep, unfathomable eyes swept over her. Xu Yunqi kept her head down, her small face flushed red, damp strands of hair clinging to her temples—she looked weak and drained.

“You’ve worked hard,” he said, his voice raspy, as if roughened by heat.

Xu Yunqi’s throat bobbed; she could barely make a sound. She shook her head, finally squeezing out a thin voice: “I’m fine…”

Pei Muheng looked at her for a moment in silence, said nothing more, lifted the curtain, and rose to go to the washroom.

The moment he left, the night breeze swept in, cooling the heat on her cheeks. Xu Yunqi let out a slow breath. By the dim light filtering in from outside, she glanced at her own hand.

This man—usually so gentle and refined, never angry with her, never raising his voice—she had thought he would be the epitome of a gentleman in such matters. And indeed, he had been considerate, even restrained—until the final surge, when he had pushed her down, pinned her slender arms, pressed his fingertips to smooth the goosebumps from her skin, and finally clamped her hands so she could not move. In that moment, she had almost forgotten to breathe.

Hearing water running from the washroom, Xu Yunqi rose from the bed. A dull ache spread through her body. She gripped the bedpost, taking a long moment before she could walk.

The washroom in the western side hall was luxuriously spacious, with a folding screen in the middle. Xu Yunqi wrapped her clothes tightly around herself and went over. Old Madam Chen was already waiting by the screen. Seeing her mistress’s slender frame sway slightly, she hurried forward to help her.

Pei Muheng was in the next compartment, so mistress and servant dared not speak.

Xu Yunqi climbed painfully into the bath. Old Madam Chen quietly examined her back—white as jade, faintly flushed from sweat, but with no excessive marks. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Indeed, the Third Young Master, a figure like an immortal, would not go too far.

Before long, husband and wife had both cleaned up and returned to the inner hall one after the other.

Old Madam Chen personally lit a lamp and went into the canopy bed to change the bedding. Pei Muheng and Xu Yunqi sat at opposite sides of the table. As he poured tea, he poured a cup for his wife.

Her throat parched, Xu Yunqi took it and murmured, “Thank you…”

Pei Muheng remembered her appearance just now—her face covered in a fine sheen of sweat, like a delicate flower drenched in rain, yet still refusing to make a sound.

His wife had more composure than he had imagined.

Just then, Old Madam Chen came out with the soiled bedding. A sticky patch of red flashed past. Xu Yunqi’s face colored with embarrassment for a moment; she gripped her teacup and lowered her head to drink.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the man across from her sitting motionless, upright and composed, like an unshakable mountain.

Soon, Old Madam Chen finished tidying up and curtsied to them. Xu Yunqi knew all was in order, lifted her skirts, and went to the canopy bed first.

The lamps were extinguished. Each wrapped in their own quilt, they slept in silence.

—

At dawn’s first light, Pei Muheng woke as usual. His body, like a thirsting beast, sent out unmistakable signals. He glanced at his wife beside him. Xu Yunqi’s pretty face was turned toward him, her hair strewn messily over the pillow, a flush still lingering on her cheeks, painted in the morning glow with a rich, warm hue. One willow-like arm had slipped from under the quilt and lay across her chest.

Excess harmed the body. Pei Muheng had always been self-disciplined and suppressed the impulse without a second thought. But looking at the sleeping figure beside him, he felt for the first time, truly and palpably, that he was now a married man.

After a moment, he tucked the quilt around his wife and quietly rose from the bed.

They had never shared a bed before; Xu Yunqi was not in the habit of attending to him in the morning, and Pei Muheng did not call for her.

As before, he was gone by the time she woke.

Xu Yunqi rubbed her sore arms, gazed at the unfamiliar bed, and let some vivid fragments from the night flicker through her mind. After a moment’s daze, she showed no particular expression and called for her maid to help her wash and dress.

—

The envoys had arrived the day before. To blunt their momentum, the Emperor did not receive them immediately, only ordering Prince Qin to host a banquet. That morning, the Great Wu envoy formally paid an audience to the Emperor. Pei Muheng assembled with the other imperial grandsons and civil and military officials at Qiankun Hall.

The Great Wu’s Third Prince presented three Ferghana horses, a massive jade mountain carved from Hotan green jade in the shape of a “longevity” character, and over a dozen chests of gold, silver, and jewels from the Western Regions as birthday gifts. Then the two nations exchanged state letters.

The Emperor held the Great Wu’s letter in his hand, made no comment on the spot, and sent the envoys to rest.

After a light lunch of congee, the Emperor frowned at the letter and summoned several key ministers to deliberate.

The letter was first passed to Prince Qin. He studied it carefully, then shook his head.

“What arrogance—they want a hundred thousand bolts of raw silk, a hundred thousand dan of tea, plus medicinal herbs. This is outrageous! Are they seeking peace, or are we?”

The Duke of Wen sighed with a hint of resignation: “Though we struck them hard this time, they know we are spent. That’s why they dare make such demands.”

Prince Qin’s face was dark. “This letter must be sent back for revision. If they want peace, they must show sincerity.”

Yan Ping asked the Duke of Wen: “What are their terms?”

The Duke of Wen was the commander-in-chief of the northern expedition and was leading the negotiations on the Great Jin side.

He replied: “Thirty thousand warhorses, fifty thousand furs, some musk and medicinal herbs, and the establishment of a mutual trade market at the bridgehead north of Xuanfu.”

The two nations had vastly different terrains and both lacked certain medicinal herbs—mutual trade in that regard was unobjectionable. But warhorses and furs were another matter: furs could be made into armor, and warhorses were a resource the Great Jin desperately needed. However, the numbers offered by the Great Wu did not satisfy the court.

Prince Qin said, “We must raise the stakes. In my view—a hundred thousand warhorses, one hundred and fifty thousand furs. These two terms are non-negotiable. No bargaining. If they refuse, let the envoys go home.”

Prince Qin’s words were driven by anger.

Xiao Yu asked the Duke of Wen: “If we send the letter back with Prince Qin’s terms, what will the Great Wu do? Tear up the peace agreement and go back to war?”

As a civil official, Xiao Yu was not well-versed in border warfare.

The Duke of Wen exchanged a glance with the Emperor and did not answer immediately.

At present, the Great Wu still had fighting strength, while the Great Jin did not. If it came to war, it was hard to say who would lose more.

Pei Muheng read something in the Duke’s expression and smiled faintly. “Since the Great Wu still has strength, Duke Wen, have you considered—why are they proposing peace talks? Is it truly just because of the Great Jin’s might?”

The Emperor looked at his grandson. “Heng’er, did you learn something while receiving the envoys?”

Pei Muheng bowed. “Grandfather, the night before last, I pretended to be drunk and returned to my tent, and inadvertently overheard that the Qiqihar River north of the Great Wu has experienced a rare drying up. There may already be drought within their territory.”

The Emperor was startled.

“So that’s it!” Prince Qin clapped his hands. “Then we must take a firm stance and force them to agree to our terms—a hundred thousand warhorses.”

But it was not that simple.

When Prince Qin’s revised letter was sent back, the Great Wu’s Third Prince seemed to have expected it and made a counter-request:

“Your Majesty’s birthday is approaching—why don’t our two nations hold a martial competition as entertainment?”

The Great Jin could not show weakness and had to agree.

In private, however, the Duke of Wen said gravely to the Emperor: “Your Majesty, this is a delaying tactic on their part. They intend to intimidate us through the competition. It seems they have come prepared.”

Several key ministers then engaged in a flurry of discussion on how to deploy their fighters and give the enemy a lesson.

But the Emperor’s brow remained furrowed.

He dismissed the others, keeping only the Duke of Wen and Yan Ping, then called Pei Muheng back under the pretext of handling documents.

Pei Muheng sat to the side, sorting through the memorials.

Seeing the Emperor’s grim expression, the Duke of Wen spoke directly:

“Your Majesty must have realized—the Great Wu’s true purpose is not peace.”

The Emperor shook his head and threw the competition memorandum to the floor.

“They’re not here for peace—they’re using peace as a cover to demand things from me. I can’t swallow this. Duke Wen, tell me honestly—if we truly went to war, could the Great Jin hold out?”

The Duke of Wen smiled bitterly, rose, and bowed: “If we truly fought, we could fight. But it would mean widespread suffering.”

“We can’t just let them twist our noses!” The Emperor slammed his hand on the table, rising in anger.

Yan Ping stood up as well and spoke slowly: “Your Majesty, regardless of everything else, we must get through these negotiations. Don’t let them lead us by the nose. They want a competition—we’ll play along. But then we won’t rush the talks. Let them drink and feast at the traveling palace, drown in pleasure, and we’ll see who can outlast whom.”

The Emperor’s expression eased. “That’s a good plan. We’ll do that.”

The Duke of Wen gazed at the deepening night outside and sighed: “But these are only temporary measures.”

The root cause remained: an empty treasury, insufficient military grain.

The Emperor’s expression grew heavy again. His gaze fell on Pei Muheng, meticulously organizing documents, and he asked: “Heng’er, you went to Yangzhou—how did that go?”

Yan Ping and the Duke of Wen both looked at him.

Pei Muheng rose, came before the Emperor, and bowed. “Grandfather, I submitted a memorial upon my return. Did you not read it?”

The Emperor rubbed his forehead, glanced at his desk, as if looking for the document, then seemed to recall something. “You mentioned reforming the salt administration?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

Pei Muheng bowed gravely: “The court has long operated the salt-ticket system. Merchants buy salt tickets from the government, take them to the salt fields to draw salt, and sell it in designated prefectures. The government receives silver and deposits it in the treasury for state expenditures.”

“But now with military grain in short supply and transport faltering, I have thought of a solution.”

“What solution?” The Emperor looked at him expectantly.

Pei Muheng said: “The kaizhong method!”

The Duke of Wen and Yan Ping exchanged a glance, uncertain.

Pei Muheng explained: “Allow merchants to transport grain to designated border fortresses, and in return give them salt tickets. They can then redeem the tickets for salt at the salt fields and distribute it. This would relieve the court of the burden of transport, bolster the border regions, and largely solve the shortage of military grain.”

The hall fell silent.

In the mountains, darkness fell quickly. Soon dusk had settled. The Chief Eunuch quietly lit a palace lamp.

The room suddenly brightened.

The Emperor stared at him, turning his words over in his mind, grasping the essence. His lean, withered arm rose, searching for support. Yan Ping, closest to him, reached out, and the Emperor gripped his palm tightly, steadying himself. His eyes flickered with excitement. “Excellent.”

Yan Ping too was deeply impressed. “Truly excellent—more efficient, and it spares the court the difficulty of purchasing and distributing grain. Third Young Master’s wisdom is unmatched in this world.”

The Duke of Wen slapped the table in admiration. “Your Majesty, send him to the Ministry of War at once! With him there, I can lead troops without worry!”

The Emperor beamed with pride. “Hahaha!”

His laughter subsided, and the thought of the troublesome Great Wu envoys brought him back to earth. “But this is like distant water putting out a nearby fire.”

Pei Muheng had anticipated this and smiled. “Which is why I have a second proposal.”

“Oh? Speak quickly!”

The Duke of Wen and Yan Ping helped the Emperor sit behind his desk, and all three turned to him.

Pei Muheng said: “Your Majesty knows that our Great Jin has long had trade with the Mongols. These merchants, according to the fixed quotas set by the court, send raw silk, tea, and other goods north each year. But you also know that the court quotas fall far short of what the Great Wu needs. Therefore, these merchants covertly smuggle silk, tea, and salt to the Great Wu by various means, selling at high prices for profit.”

“So?”

“So, I propose that Your Majesty issue a decree, send men to the inspectorate at the bridgehead, retrieve trade records from the past five years, compile a list of merchants, and raid these establishments on charges of colluding with the enemy. First, this will cut off the Great Wu’s supply, choke their throat, and give us the upper hand in negotiations. Second, it will fill the treasury for military grain.”

The Emperor drew a sharp breath.

The Duke of Wen clapped his hands in appreciation: “Excellent strategy, excellent execution—truly worthy of His Majesty’s grandson.”

Yan Ping nodded in agreement and thought for a moment. “Your Majesty, if you wish to investigate, I can suggest a direction.”

“Oh?”

“When I served in the Ministry of Revenue, I recall that many merchants in Jinzhou specialized in trade with the Great Wu. Not only did they trade silk, salt, and tea, but they also smuggled gunpowder north.”

Jinzhou was rich in coal and saltpeter, producing the vast majority of the Great Jin’s gunpowder.

Pei Muheng cast a subtle glance at Yan Ping.

He had also sensed Prince Qin’s private activities. At this moment, the Grand Secretary was subtly steering the Emperor’s attention toward Jinzhou—a deft move, a masterstroke.

Thus, if the Crown Prince’s affairs were ever exposed, Prince Qin would be implicated as well. A classic use of borrowed force—truly the skill of a Grand Secretary.

The Emperor nodded. “With a direction, investigation will be easier. As for the right man…”

Pei Muheng immediately bowed: “Grandfather, I have already thought of someone.”

“Oh? Who?”

Pei Muheng smiled at Yan Ping and said softly: “Yan Shaoling.”

Yan Ping was slightly startled.

The Emperor stroked his chin, pondering. “Yan Shaoling?”

The Duke of Wen chimed in: “Your Majesty, Young Master Yan is known for his spirited nature. He is the ideal choice for raiding the Jinzhou merchants.”

The Emperor laughed heartily. “Indeed—I haven’t seen that lad for a long time. Is he still as mischievous?”

Yan Ping smiled wryly. “Spirited? More like roguish. The assignment suits him well enough—I just fear he’ll disappoint Your Majesty’s expectations.”

His concerns now resolved, the Emperor leaned back comfortably and smiled at Yan Ping: “We are all getting old. It’s time to let the young gain some experience.”

Yan Ping met the Emperor’s meaningful smile, slowly narrowed his eyes, and bent low:

“Then this subject thanks Your Majesty on behalf of that unworthy son.”

—

That night, Pei Muheng returned very late. The next day, the martial competition between the two nations was held, and he left early—husband and wife did not even see each other.

Pei Mushan had left early for the training ground, leaving word for Xu Yunqi to come find her later. After breakfast, Xu Yunqi went to the training ground.

The Princess Consort was nowhere to be seen. Lady Li and Pei Mulan were watching the spectacle from the silk pavilion with their children. Fourth Young Lady Pei Mulan gave up her seat when Xu Yunqi arrived, and she sat between them.

She spotted Pei Mushan immediately—dressed in a fiery red riding outfit, jumping before the crowd and shouting at the field:

“Hit him! Jab his armpit! Yes—that’s it!”

“Wait, wait, wait—hey, don’t hit him in the face! Such a pretty face—oh dear!” Pei Mushan clutched her head in despair.

Lady Li laughed so hard she was breathless, holding her son.

Xu Yunqi, unaware of what was happening, asked, “What’s going on?”

In the center of the field, a young man in barbarian dress was pinned down by a tall, imposing Great Jin fighter. The man wore a bright brocade robe, his brows sharp as sword sheaths, radiating power—clearly no ordinary man. All the ladies present cheered for him, except Pei Mushan, who lamented.

Seeing Lady Li laughing too hard to speak, Pei Mulan took over: “Earlier, a young commandery prince from the Great Wu envoy party appeared. He had amber-blue eyes, and my sister was mesmerized at first sight and cheered for him. Young Master Yan Shaoling of the Yan household saw this and volunteered to fight him. Now that commandery prince is down on the ground, and my sister is lamenting the loss of his face.”

Xu Yunqi was speechless.

Pei Mushan and her obsession with good looks.

Pei Mulan whispered in her ear: “Young Master Yan is fond of Fifth Sister.”

So that was it.

Xu Yunqi now took a proper look at Yan Shaoling. The young man was around twenty, unhurried yet imposing, with a bold, uninhibited air in his brows—clearly one of those noble sons who galloped through the capital streets.

“And what about your sister?”

Pei Mulan chuckled softly: “She says he’s not as good-looking as Third Brother, and turned down the Yan family’s proposal.”

Xu Yunqi: “…”

Yan Shaoling was already handsome enough—Pei Muheng had set far too high a bar.

Halfway through the competition, the Great Wu’s Third Prince defeated three Great Jin champions in a row. The situation was tense. The Emperor asked who would step up next, and the opposing side called out the Twelfth Prince, Pei Xun. Both were legitimate princes, both renowned. The Third Prince wanted a match—and to humble the Great Jin’s legitimate prince.

The Twelfth Prince, Pei Xun, accepted.

The nearly thirty-year-old prince of leisure mounted the field, limping slightly, and rode up in style.

As he vaulted from the imperial steps onto his horse, a roar went through the crowd.

Xu Yunqi learned that the Twelfth Prince was extremely popular among the ladies.

Lady Li told her: “Sister-in-law may not know this, but the Twelfth Prince is hailed as the Great Jin’s greatest archer. With him on the field, there’s no losing.”

Pei Mulan chimed in worriedly: “But I heard he’s injured—”

Before she could finish, Pei Mushan shouted from the fence: “Even injured, Twelfth Uncle will knock them flat!”

Aside from medicine, the one thing Xu Yunqi had always wanted to learn was archery. For a woman, having that skill meant self-defense while traveling the jianghu. Unfortunately, her grandfather was not skilled in it, and those she later found to teach her had not been able to help her. Hearing their praise, she grew curious about the Twelfth Prince and craned her neck like everyone else.

The two men sat on horseback, facing the open sky, drawing their bows together.

The Twelfth Prince’s archery was as legendary—smooth as flowing clouds. The arrow shot through the air with a force that pierced the sky, vanishing into the clouds. Just as it disappeared from sight, a wild goose cried out. A moment later, everyone saw the goose fall into the grass, impaled by two arrows—the Great Wu prince’s arrow pierced its wing, while Pei Xun’s had sheared off a tuft of feathers from its crown. The difference in skill was clear. When Pei Muheng personally stepped forward to help the slightly limping Pei Xun back, the Great Wu prince’s face turned even uglier.

Pei Xun had fought injured.

Seeing Xu Yunqi’s eyes sparkling, Lady Li laughed: “You like archery?”

Xu Yunqi nodded seriously.

Lady Li said: “Third Brother learned archery from the Twelfth Prince himself. You could have him teach you sometime,” her tone turning suggestive.

Xu Yunqi smiled lightly. Pei Muheng had no time for that—and even if he did, he would not have the inclination.

Lady Li was observant. Watching the couple’s interactions, she knew they were distant. Seeing Xu Yunqi not respond, she took it as sadness and comforted her:

“These things take time. But you know, many people are jealous of you. Your second brother told me last night that Third Brother utterly silenced the opposing side in the first round of negotiations yesterday, seizing the advantage for our Great Jin. Did you know?”

Xu Yunqi had not known. Pei Muheng never told her about court affairs, and judging by their initial agreement, he likely did not want her meddling. Lady Li, seeing her ignorance, grew sympathetic. She squeezed her wrist and whispered:

“Your brother says both Prince Qin and the Crown Prince want to win Third Brother over. His future is boundless. He’s consumed by politics—you’ll have to be patient.”

Xu Yunqi smiled wryly, accepting her kindness. “Thank you, Second Sister-in-law. I understand.”

After the Twelfth Prince’s match, the ladies dispersed. Pei Mushan gathered some girls for polo. Xu Yunqi left with Lady Li, but on the way the children insisted on watching water-dart games by the lake. Lady Li had to call Pei Mulan for help, leaving Xu Yunqi to walk back to the palace alone.

Halfway there, on a boardwalk, she was blocked.

Liu Xiangning, daughter of the Chief Justice of the Dali Temple, stood before her with two maids and matrons. Her face was pale with a hint of green, her voice weak. “Xu… Xu, were you trying to hurt me yesterday?”

Xu Yunqi studied her expression and replied calmly: “Miss Liu, you should have blisters forming on your body. Instead of resting indoors, you’ve come out into the wind—that may cause your wounds to fester. The pain will be like ants gnawing at you, keeping you awake day and night…”

Liu Xiangning’s fury flared, hatred blazing in her eyes. “Exactly—today I’ll make you taste the same!”

She signaled. Several guards leaped out from the woods on either side, surrounding Xu Yunqi and Yinxing with Liu Xiangning and her servants.

Xu Yunqi glanced around coldly, her hand tightening on the silver needles in her sleeve, preparing to act—when a sharp voice came from a stone path to the side:

“Stop!”

Xu Yunqi turned. A tall, broad-faced lady in plain dress hurried up the steps with two maids, planting herself before Xu Yunqi and shouting at Liu Xiangning:

“Miss Liu, your father serves as Chief Justice of the Dali Temple—surely you understand the consequences of assaulting someone in private?”

“You were scalded because of the Xiao family—it had nothing to do with Yunqi. If you keep pushing, you won’t even know how you die!”

Liu Xiangning sneered at the newcomer: “Who are you, to meddle in my affairs?”

The lady seemed unwilling to waste words: “Who I am is none of your concern. If you don’t leave, I’ll call for help!”

With her voice rising, Liu Xiangning lost her nerve. “You—just you wait! I’ll settle this with you later!” She and her people scurried away in defeat.

—

Wind howled through the pines, carrying waves of resinous scent. Xu Yunqi poured tea for Lady Jiang, who sat across from her in a cliffside pavilion. They looked at each other in silence.

Xu Yunqi smiled ruefully: “The Liu family isn’t known for being reasonable—why did you make an enemy of them for my sake? That little trick of hers wouldn’t have hurt me.”

Lady Jiang shook her head. “Was I supposed to stand by and watch?”

Seeing Xu Yunqi about to argue, she reached over and took her wrist, her voice warm: “Good child, how have you been these six months?”

Xu Yunqi’s gaze flickered, her smile deepening. “How could I not be well? I want for nothing, and I have no cares.”

Lady Jiang looked into her eyes, bright as the moon, and suddenly choked up: “If only His Majesty hadn’t bestowed that marriage…” She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

Xu Yunqi’s expression turned quiet.

A year ago, not long after arriving in the capital, Xu Yunqi had treated a nobleman’s wife at the Chengyang Clinic. That woman was Lady Jiang. Later, at a chance banquet, Lady Jiang recognized her. Learning she was the eldest daughter of Director Xu of the Ministry of Works, she was overjoyed and privately sent a matchmaker to propose.

At the time, Xu Yunqi was being coveted by her elder brother Xu He and did not want to stay in the Xu household. She agreed to meet Lady Jiang at her mother’s urging.

The two took to each other at once. Lady Jiang, whose life Xu Yunqi had saved, adored her and quickly arranged for her son Jiang Yuhe to meet her. Jiang Yuhe, already grateful to Xu Yunqi, was mesmerized by her graceful, gentle bearing when they met.

The two families settled the match.

The Jiang family was a fourth-rank noble household—a step above the Xu family, but not by much—a good match. A kind mother-in-law, a gentle husband—it was a perfect marriage.

But before the betrothal could be completed, the Emperor’s marriage decree came down. The good match fell apart. Madam Zhang and Lady Jiang had wept bitterly together.

Even six months later, Lady Jiang still regretted it.

Xu Yunqi could not bear to see her like this and quickly comforted her: “It’s all in the past, Lady. We didn’t have the fate. I am well now, living a stable life. You should let go too, and find a good match for Brother Jiang.”

Mentioning Jiang Yuhe only made Lady Jiang cry harder, her fingers trembling with sorrow. She wanted to speak, but mindful that Xu Yunqi was now married, held back the words, only sobbing in silence.

After a while, Lady Jiang composed herself, wiped her tears, and asked with a smile: “Does the Third Young Master treat you well?”

Fearing she would worry, Xu Yunqi quickly replied: “Very well. He may seem cold on the surface, but he’s warm-hearted. He’s generous with money and always brings back valuable gifts when he travels. We have a good relationship. As for my mother-in-law—though we’re not close, she never mistreats me. And my sister-in-law is wonderful.”

Xu Yunqi said this not only to reassure Lady Jiang, but also to make Jiang Yuhe let go.

But Lady Jiang looked at her with pity, her eyes filled with tears:

“Yunqi, do you think I don’t know you? These words might fool your mother, but not me. I trust the Third Young Master’s character, but as for marital affection—forget it.”

She would have to endure hardships at home and cold glances and gossip outside. If she had married into the Jiang family, everyone would have cherished her—that would have been true happiness.

Seeing she could not persuade her, Xu Yunqi took her arm and coaxed: “Are you still taking the prescription I gave you?”

“Yes.”

“By the way, how is Brother Jiang?”

“Would you believe me if I said he’s fine?”

—

It was nearly the hour of Shen, the sun tilting west. The wind never stopped in the woods.

Xu Yunqi walked arm in arm with Yinxing toward the traveling palace ahead.

The wind sent waves of grass rolling toward the palace steps. The sight was refreshing.

Yinxing had still not recovered from Lady Jiang’s words. She looked downcast.

“The Jiang family would have been the best choice for you, Mistress. Lady Jiang supported your practice, knew you inside and out, and would have respected you—never compared you to any Grand Secretary’s daughter. And Young Master Jiang—truly the best man in the world. He’d only just met you and he’d already brought back every snack in the capital, his eyes and heart full of you…”

For a moment, Yinxing had felt despair—as if her mistress had been forgotten by heaven, happiness always just within reach, then slipping away.

First her loving parents, then a good match that could have been.

Xu Yunqi stopped at her maid’s words. Seeing the wind had tousled her hair, she reached out and smoothed it, her expression magnanimous:

“Yinxing, good and bad are never simple. Some husbands are capable and can stand up for their wives and earn them respect; some are gentle at home but cannot hold their ground outside. No one can have everything. Everything has its pros and cons. Once it happens, don’t dwell on whether it’s good or bad—we must accept it. Don’t cling to the past, and don’t worry about a future that hasn’t arrived.”

“Live in the present.”

—

Though the Twelfth Prince had ultimately won the match for the Great Jin, the prowess shown by the Great Wu soldiers had still shaken the court. At the negotiation table, the Great Wu envoys remained stubborn. Following Yan Ping’s strategy, the Emperor kept them at arm’s length, having Prince Qin, Prince Chen, and the Twelfth Prince take turns hosting them, while he himself remained absent.

Pei Muheng worked efficiently. In one day, he retrieved trade records from the bridgehead inspectorate. Most of the merchants listed were indeed from Jinzhou, so Yan Shaoling was dispatched south that very night.

The next two days were relatively quiet.

The young ladies, accompanied by their brothers, went hunting in the mountains. One day, Pei Mushan invited Xu Yunqi to play polo. But Xu Yunqi, wanting to surprise her sister-in-law with a custom-made rouge set, excused herself:

“I’m not feeling well—you go ahead.”

Pei Mushan was immediately concerned. “Shall I call a physician?”

Xu Yunqi smiled: “It’s nothing serious—I just need some rest.”

Seeing her color was fine, Pei Mushan didn’t press. “All right, I’ll win some prizes and bring them back for you.”

Xu Yunqi watched her go, then returned to the inner hall. She had barely sat down when she heard steady footsteps outside.

Pei Muheng.

It was only the beginning of the hour of Si—at this time he should have been either with the Emperor or at the training ground. Had he forgotten something?

Xu Yunqi rose in surprise to greet him.

Pei Muheng stepped in quickly, his gaze sweeping over her. “My sister said you’re unwell?”

Xu Yunqi froze.

Hesitating whether to nod, she heard him say, in a somewhat awkward tone: “Did I hurt you?”

Xu Yunqi was utterly stuck. A wave of mortification crept through her limbs, breaking through her skin in a rosy flush. Last night, Pei Muheng had returned late, and she had fallen asleep. It was only in the early hours that he had taken her again—her bones still carried a lingering ache.

Pei Muheng had clearly misunderstood.

Xu Yunqi pointed to the table. “I was making rouge for my sister and made an excuse to decline.”

Her expression was soft and still.

Pei Muheng’s deep eyes stayed fixed on her, unmoving.

Xu Yunqi had no choice but to grip her handkerchief tighter and reply steadily: “I’m truly fine.”

Pei Muheng gave a soft acknowledgment, glanced at the bright daylight outside, and said gently: “Since you’re fine, I’ll take you out for a walk.”

“Ah…” Xu Yunqi stared in astonishment, as if such words could never have come from him.

Was he really this free?

His sudden thoughtfulness caught her off guard.

Pei Muheng smiled warmly: “The negotiations aren’t urgent these days. His Majesty has given me leave. Somehow the topic turned to you—he said I should spend time with you. You’ve been here so long without really going out—I’ll take you up the mountain.”

Aside from his intensity in bed, he was usually quite gentle.

Xu Yunqi nodded, a little conflicted.

Pei Muheng had another reason for leaving today. Prince Qin’s scheme was near its climax, and it was time for Pei Muheng to keep a low profile. Last time, Xu Yunqi had been publicly ridiculed—surely she was unhappy. With the weather fine today, he would take her out for a ride, so others would see they were a harmonious couple and silence the gossip.

Since she was his wife, he could not let her suffer.

Xu Yunqi went inside and changed into a fitted riding outfit. When she emerged, Pei Muheng studied her for a long while.

She wore an apricot-colored jacket, her trousers tucked into black deerskin boots—clean and sharp. A blue sash cinched her waist, accentuating its slender curve, making her look tall and dashing.

“What is it?” She touched her face, thinking something was wrong.

Pei Muheng shook his head and led her forward. “Nothing.”

Husband and wife led the way, followed by Yinxing and two guards. Before long, they reached the stable, where a groom brought out Pei Muheng’s usual horse, “Black Hoof.” He mounted and reached down to help her up. “I’ll take you.”

Xu Yunqi turned and looked at the endless grassland stretching before her, a hint of excitement flickering in her eyes. “Third Master, may I ride my own horse?”

Pei Muheng paused. “You can ride?”

Xu Yunqi smiled. “A little.”

He dismounted and returned to the stable, choosing a gentle, short horse suited for a lady. Xu Yunqi climbed on, walked a few steps, got used to the saddle, then set off ahead.

The palace sat halfway up the mountain. From the stable below, a vast fertile plain rolled out for over a hundred li. Xu Yunqi rode for a while, her face flushed from the jostling. But she was not one to yield—she gripped the reins, slowly bringing the horse under control. When she looked back, the man sat gracefully on his horse, following unhurriedly behind, with a clean, radiant bearing.

Though she guessed there was more to Pei Muheng’s company than simple thoughtfulness, she was still happy.

It had been so long since she had ridden freely.

She rode on.

After a while, they passed through a grove and came to a damp hollow. Tired, Xu Yunqi spread a straw mat on the slope and sat down to rest. Her legs were sore from riding. Pei Muheng dismounted at leisure, took a waterskin, and handed it to her.

Neither was talkative. They sat in silence, enjoying the view.

The temperature here was noticeably warmer than outside. Dense forests surrounded them, filled with birdsong and flowers. Below the slope, a lake steamed with heat—clearly a geothermal spot.

Xu Yunqi was familiar with all kinds of terrain. In places like this, rare medicinal herbs and creatures could be found—some living, some botanical. Those familiar with the wild had a natural instinct. She sensed something, quietly set down the waterskin, parted the grass beneath the shrubs, and looked around.

Pei Muheng did not know what she was doing. He was about to speak when a streak of green shot past his eyes, heading straight for Xu Yunqi. His heart leaped to his throat; he instinctively reached out to shield his wife, his hidden soft sword flashing out toward that green blur.

But someone was faster.

Before he could even see her move, a two-inch green snake was held lightly in Xu Yunqi’s hand.

Pei Muheng: “…”

This was an extremely rare green-tipped snake—small, but valuable for medicine. Xu Yunqi had only ever seen one before, in the hands of a medicine merchant in Western Hunan. She had sensed danger nearby but never imagined she would find such a coveted prize. Pleased, she turned with a smile, holding the snake, now paralyzed by her silver needle.

Pei Muheng stared at her, his expression beyond description—shock mixed with lingering fear, his face pale.

Xu Yunqi met his cold look, and her smile froze on her face. Following his gaze to the little snake in her hand, she slowly realized what had happened. Flustered and unable to explain, she lowered her eyes for a moment, then turned slowly, wrapping the snake carefully in a cloth pouch.

Pei Muheng watched her slender back, seeing every movement clearly—too practiced to be anything but routine.

His throat moved as he swallowed the cold air he had been holding.

Just what kind of wife had he married?

He had never truly known her at all.