Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Pei Muheng helped the Censorate secure the signed and stamped authorization from the Ministry of Revenue and sent it to the Grand Secretariat for approval. He was deliberating whether to go to the Hall of Heavenly Worship to pay his respects when word came from the mansion that Prince Xi was summoning him home. He returned to Qinghui Garden at the beginning of the hour of Shen that afternoon.

When he entered, Prince Xi was seated on the throne beneath a red-lacquered gold-inlaid ivory screen in the north, his wrist tapping impatiently on the side table—clearly anxious.

Pei Muheng strode in, rounded the antique shelf, and bowed. “Father, what is the matter?”

Prince Xi looked at him with a worried expression: “You know I once served with Yang Kang. Now that the Crown Prince’s case has implicated the Yang family, an old colleague from the Military Command came to me secretly today. He said Prince Qin has gathered evidence that the Yangs conspired with the Crown Prince in rebellion—that when Yang Kang was fighting on the northern border, he forged ties with many Great Wu nobles, and those Jinzhou merchants who smuggled gunpowder relied on Yang Kang’s men to act as intermediaries. That’s how the Crown Prince was able to get involved in Jinzhou and bring gunpowder into the capital.”

His voice grew more urgent as he spoke. He rose and walked to the window, turning back to face Pei Muheng with a cold, sharp gaze:

“Everyone knows what kind of man Yang Kang is—unyielding, a fearless fighter on the battlefield. He hates the Great Wu’s raids and plunder more than anyone—how could he ever do business with them? It’s utterly absurd!”

“In recent years, the Crown Prince has grown increasingly wayward, and Yang Kang merely felt obliged to protect his son-in-law’s interests for his daughter’s sake. Heng’er, there are many things your father can overlook, but I will not stand by and watch those who bled on the battlefield be schemed to death by these court parasites!”

“The Yang family is a line of loyal martyrs—they must not become Prince Qin’s stepping stone to power!” Prince Xi’s fists clenched with a dry crackle, hatred blazing in his eyes.

Pei Muheng slowly removed his court robe and looked calmly at his father, who stood bristling like a caged beast. Then he grinned suddenly:

“Father is anxious?”

Prince Xi, seeing his son still in the mood to tease, shot him a glare. “Are you laughing at your father?”

Pei Muheng hung his robe on the rack with unhurried ease and let his hands fall. “Not at all. It’s good that Father has found his fighting spirit—then I won’t stand alone.”

Though Prince Xi was not favoured by the Emperor, he had once been a formidable commander with great prestige in the military. A single call from him would bring men flocking. That was one of Pei Muheng’s strengths in the succession struggle.

Prince Xi was about to speak when he noticed that under his court robe, Pei Muheng was wearing a narrow-sleeved tunic. Frowning, he asked: “In this heat, why are you wearing so many layers?”

Pei Muheng paused, subtly moving his right arm behind his back, and steered the conversation back to business:

“The Yang family is a pillar of the state. I have never intended to kick a man when he’s down. I already have a plan to save them—I was going to meet with Yang Kang myself, but now it seems I won’t need to. It would be better for you to go.”

He leaned close to Prince Xi and whispered a few words in his ear.

Prince Xi frowned, looking at him. “Will that work? Isn’t it a bit… childish?”

Pei Muheng let out a light, cold laugh, his voice clear: “Father, just follow my instructions. I guarantee the Yangs will be safe.”

Pei Muheng had never been wrong. Prince Xi trusted him and asked again: “How is the Crown Prince’s case progressing?”

The heat was oppressive, and sweat beaded on Pei Muheng’s brow. The wound Xu Yunqi had scratched on his arm throbbed fiercely. He turned, took up a teapot, poured himself a cup of cold tea, and sipped it slowly before replying:

“His Majesty no longer wants the investigation to continue.”

Prince Xi was not surprised. He sat again on the heated kang by the window. “Xun Yunhe’s move—letting officials’ families accompany the imperial tour—cut off Prince Qin’s plan to force the Crown Prince into rebellion. To push the Emperor into deposing the Crown Prince, Prince Qin had to resort to such specious schemes. His Majesty, ever astute, has probably seen through it and worries about wronging the Crown Prince.”

“Still, the explosion at Ci’en Temple has been heard across the realm. Deposing the Crown Prince is beyond doubt. Now Prince Qin only needs to link the Crown Prince to treason and collusion with the enemy—and the Eastern Palace faction will be utterly destroyed.”

“If you want to save the Yang family, besides that other method, you must also disentangle them from the gunpowder affair.”

Saving the Yangs would stabilize the entire military and benefit Prince Xi’s household greatly.

“I understand.” Pei Muheng was about to say more when Huang Wei’s head appeared at the window:

“Third Master, the young mistress is at the study gate—she says she has something for you.”

Father and son exchanged a glance.

Prince Xi immediately rose and headed deeper into the room. “I’ll go handle the Yang family matter. Heng’er, don’t let Prince Qin off the hook…”

Watching his father about to climb over the wall at the back, Pei Muheng said flatly: “Where are you going?”

Prince Xi stopped at the inner door and turned back: “Your wife is here, isn’t she? I’ll climb back over.”

Pei Muheng’s face darkened. “What are you, a thief?” He pointed toward the front door. “Use the main gate.”

Seeing his son’s disdain, Prince Xi rubbed his brow, turned, and headed for the main entrance, muttering as he went: “I just didn’t want to scare off your wife.”

Xu Yunqi always seemed shy, and Prince Xi feared that if he ran into her head-on, she might retreat. Given his son’s cold and unfeeling nature, he probably didn’t know how to treat a woman properly, and Prince Xi didn’t want to spoil what little initiative she was showing.

Pei Muheng followed him out. Hearing these words, his expression was hard to read.

If he told his father that Xu Yunqi could catch snakes with her bare hands, who would be scared off then?

Both lost in their own thoughts, they reached the study gate and saw Xu Yunqi, in her moon-white dress, standing gracefully outside the moon gate.

Prince Xi, hands clasped behind his back, had shed all his earlier fussiness and adopted a stern, imposing air.

Xu Yunqi was startled to see Prince Xi, but quickly regained her composure, inwardly wincing. Worried about Pei Muheng’s wound in the heat, she had prepared a small bottle of ointment. She had been cooling off at the waterside pavilion when a maid told her Pei Muheng was back. On her way past the study, she had planned to give the bottle to Huang Wei—but he had insisted on announcing her. She had hesitated, not knowing whether to stay or go, and now Prince Xi had emerged, clearly interrupting father and son’s discussion.

“Greetings, Father.” She curtsied calmly.

Prince Xi was pleased to see her. “Haha, no need for formality. Well, you two… carry on. I’ll be off.” He stroked his beard and strode away.

Left alone, husband and wife looked at each other, the teasing “carry on” lingering awkwardly between them.

Xu Yunqi explained from the bottom of the steps: “I was just passing by from the waterside pavilion—I wanted to give you some ointment. I didn’t know Father was here.”

She was telling him she had not meant to intrude.

Pei Muheng, having come to know her temperament, did not take it the wrong way. “I know. Come in.”

Before she could respond, he had already turned and walked inside.

She glanced at the bottle in her hand and followed.

Yinxing waited outside. Huang Wei served tea to both and quietly withdrew.

Xu Yunqi followed Pei Muheng into the study without looking around. He had already seated himself behind the desk, casually tidying the papers. “Sit wherever you like.”

She had no intention of sitting. She pulled the bottle from her sleeve and handed it to him:

“In this heat, wounds don’t heal well. I made this cooling Jade Muscle Balm for you—if you apply it, you’ll recover faster.”

Her voice was soft and clear, like a summer mountain spring, carrying a refreshing clarity.

Pei Muheng’s hand stilled. His gaze slowly moved to the bottle, but his eyes first caught her slender hand. Her wide sleeve had slipped down, revealing a small section of her forearm—delicate yet firm, skin like snow. Her fingers were long and fine, dazzlingly white, though with slight cracks at the tips.

He knew exactly why.

The image from last night flashed unbidden through his mind.

He looked away, acknowledging her with a soft “Mm.”

Xu Yunqi, seeing his reaction, was unsure what it meant.

Did he not want it? Did he not care? Or did he think she was being forward?

She slowly withdrew the bottle and looked at him steadily.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you. It’s just that others might notice if they see it.”

His court robes had wide sleeves—one careless gesture and someone might spot the wound. She would rather suffer a little embarrassment and come to him than have their private affairs become gossip.

Pei Muheng arranged the documents neatly in the center of the desk, then looked up at her, a faint, unreadable smile in his eyes.

“I understand.” He extended his right arm toward her. “You do it.”

Then he lowered his head, spread open the papers beneath his hand, and began reading intently.

The three words “You do it” were spoken lightly, almost without inflection.

Xu Yunqi was taken aback.

This man…

Seeing him absorbed in his reading, his tone unhurried, she had no reason to refuse. She moved to his side, set the bottle on the desk, brought over a small stool, and sat down to treat his wound.

He wore a narrow-sleeved tunic. She unfastened the cuff buttons and rolled the sleeve up, revealing a shocking gash. She was genuinely taken aback, her fair face flushing with embarrassment.

The wound extended from his elbow, reddened and slightly festering. Glancing at the court robe draped on the screen, she realized he had worn an extra layer to hide the mark. In this heat, sweat had seeped into the wound, causing it to worsen.

The wound ran from top to bottom, shallow to deep—any married man would know at a glance what it was.

She rubbed her forehead with a complicated sigh and carefully pushed the sleeve higher, fully exposing the livid, serpentine gash that reflected an unflattering crimson onto her cheeks.

For Pei Muheng, the pain was nothing. He had barely noticed it. After reading a few lines, he glanced over and saw his usually composed wife with a rare flush of pink on her cheeks. This was not the flush of desire from their bed—it was something else, something almost shy.

His gaze moved up to her serious, focused brows, and the thought vanished.

He suddenly found himself wondering what Xu Yunqi looked like when truly bashful.

She examined the wound closely and decided that simply applying ointment would not do. She rose and went out, instructing Yinxing to bring cotton swabs and a cleansing solution.

While waiting, she stood in the corridor without re-entering.

Pei Muheng glanced at his wife’s turned back, then at his neglected arm, and found himself at a loss for words.

Fortunately, Yinxing arrived quickly. Xu Yunqi brought in a small lacquer tray, sat down again, and began treating the wound. She cleaned it with a nearly transparent medicinal solution and waited for it to dry.

Pei Muheng knew she was skilled in pharmacology, had seen her catch a snake with a needle, and knew she had picked up various skills in the countryside. He did not think much of it—after all, he had guards who could handle wounds too.

In the meantime, he read several pages of documents while she sat idly by.

Both were quiet, neither speaking.

A subtle, unspoken closeness lingered in the study.

After a while, Pei Muheng finished reading a booklet and noticed the burning sensation in his wound had eased. He asked: “My lady, can the ointment be applied now?”

Xu Yunqi, whose thoughts had wandered far, snapped back to attention. She uncorked the bottle and began applying the balm. The wound was not serious enough to make him flinch, so her movements were brisk and efficient. When she finished, she said gently:

“Don’t lower your sleeve for the next two quarters of an hour.”

He nodded and moved his arm aside. Baring his arm felt undignified to him, and he was about to urge her to leave—but before he could speak, she asked with a smile:

“Third Master, will you be coming back to the rear courtyard for dinner tonight?”

What she really wanted to ask was whether he planned to rest in the study for a few nights to let his wound heal. Newlyweds sharing a bed risked reopening his injury—but since he had just moved back, she did not want to be too blunt.

Pei Muheng, seasoned in navigating court politics, naturally caught her implication. He looked at her calmly and said with quiet authority: “No.”

Xu Yunqi did not press. She gathered her things and prepared to leave.

But her unspoken suggestion had irked him. As she rose, his tone grew firmer:

“My lady, I am not the kind of man who, after an incident, moves to separate quarters out of pique. From now on, we discuss things together.”

Xu Yunqi had only been concerned about his wound, not thinking of anything else. His words left her slightly puzzled.

When would she ever be angry with him?

Unlikely.

She thought her husband was overthinking, but still answered along his line: “Mm, good. And I’m not the petty, jealous type either. I won’t be angry with you.”

Every word sounded agreeable, but put together, they felt somehow off.