Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The towering city walls blocked out a swath of the blazing sun. Beneath the Meridian Gate, the wind howled. Xu Yunqi, wrapped in a rabbit-fur-trimmed cloak of crimson feathered satin, stood beneath the crenellations. The vast, endless red wall stretched behind her, making her cheeks look as fair as powdered jade, her figure as light as a butterfly.

When Pei Muheng emerged, he saw his young wife’s nose red from the cold, her clear eyes looking up at him. The wind ruffled her hair; she gently brushed it aside and gave him a shy smile. The dazzling red wall behind her and the brilliant cloak on her shoulders did nothing to diminish her striking beauty.

Pei Muheng’s gaze swept over her. Her hands were clasped before her, trembling slightly from the cold—and they were empty. He glanced at the maidservant beside her, who wore a look of fear, her hands also holding nothing.

Pei Muheng did not appear disappointed. He asked simply, “Why have you come at this hour?”

Not only was this the wrong hour, but the imperial city was also the wrong place. Xu Yunqi knew she had likely crossed a line today. She quickly curtsied:

“Third Master, I apologize. I did not mean to disturb you. I left something important in your carriage—may I go and look for it?”

So that was it.

Pei Muheng could not quite name the feeling that stirred in him.

Clouds were gathering in the sky, and the sunlight was slowly fading. A faint, nearly imperceptible sigh escaped Pei Muheng’s lips. He raised a hand and pointed inward: “Come with me.”

Seeing that Pei Muheng did not question or scold her, Xu Yunqi breathed a sigh of relief. She left Yinxing outside the city wall and followed behind Pei Muheng, careful and silent.

At the Meridian Gate, Pei Muheng produced his pass for the inspecting officer. After a few words, the officer respectfully let them through.

The carriage was parked in a lane behind the Directorate of Imperial Ceremonial, inside the Meridian Gate.

As they walked along the passageway between the Directorate and the palace wall, a dense, biting wind suddenly rushed at them, making Pei Muheng frown. He turned and saw his wife following three paces behind, her clear almond eyes fixed ahead. When she noticed him looking, a flicker of anxiety and guilt colored her gaze—soft, like a pestering little tail.

Pei Muheng’s feelings were hard to articulate. He indeed did not like women from his household coming to the administrative quarter. But looking at his gentle wife, he made an exception: “I am not angry with you.”

Soon, Pei Muheng led her to the carriage. Xu Yunqi quickly lifted her skirts, climbed in, and searched for her sachet.

After much rummaging, she finally found it wedged in a crack beside the small stool—it must have fallen in when the carriage jostled. She tucked the sachet into her waist pouch and climbed out happily. Just as she was about to step down, a broad hand appeared before her.

The fingers were long, pale, and well-defined—strikingly beautiful in the sunlight.

Xu Yunqi paused. From the corner of her eye, she caught his deep gaze resting on her face.

Since he had made the first move, she could not refuse his kindness. But mindful of his aversion to touch, she pressed her sleeve over her palm before placing her hand in his, to avoid skin contact.

Her slender arm rested in his palm, and Pei Muheng realized for the first time how delicate a woman’s bones were—so fragile they might break with the slightest pressure.

He carefully helped her down. Once she was steady, they both withdrew their hands almost simultaneously.

Xu Yunqi was about to step forward when she noticed Pei Muheng standing with his back to the carriage, facing the Hall of Heavenly Worship, making no move to leave.

She was anxious to get to the clinic and urged him: “Third Master, it’s getting late. Could you see me out?”

Pei Muheng turned, hands clasped behind his back, and regarded her calmly for a moment. Then he asked gently, “With the new year approaching, court affairs keep me busy and I cannot return home. Do you face any difficulties at the mansion?”

Xu Yunqi did not know why he asked. She shook her head. “No, everything is fine.”

Better than fine.

She spent her days organizing medical records and preparing herbal pills. Apart from Pei Mushan’s occasional visits, no one disturbed her. She lived a leisurely life, free from a mother-in-law’s supervision and with no husband to serve.

Xu Yunqi noticed that as soon as she finished speaking, the corner of her husband’s eyes lowered slightly, radiating a distinct coolness.

Was he displeased?

Sensing the urgency in his wife’s expression, Pei Muheng ultimately said nothing and saw her out of the palace.

Huang Wei and a young eunuch watched from a distance, hiding beneath the eaves. The young eunuch pointed in the direction Xu Yunqi had gone. “The Third Master obviously liked that food box the young mistress sent last time. Why didn’t you remind her to send more when you went back?”

Huang Wei pinched the young eunuch’s nose and smiled mysteriously: “Why should I meddle? The Third Master has to ask for it himself.”

Xu Yunqi, for her part, had no time to guess at Pei Muheng’s thoughts. She returned to the clinic by noon and busied herself with treating patients.

After she finished, as the clothing shop owner saw her out, she pointed discreetly toward the prince’s mansion driver waiting by the roadside:

“Last time gave me a wake-up call. Since you have to go out often, I quietly found a way to place someone inside the prince’s mansion—just happened to be in time, since they were hiring. He’ll be able to look out for you from now on.”

The shopkeeper’s name was Xiuniang. She had been married before, but last year her husband had been caught cheating. Not only did he refuse to repent, he had colluded with his mistress to beat Xiuniang. Xu Yunqi had come across the scene and, with Yinxing’s help, rescued her. Not only that—she had helped Xiuniang hire a lawyer and divorce that worthless household. Later, to provide cover for her activities, Xu Yunqi had used her savings to buy this shop, giving Xiuniang and her daughter a place to stay.

Xu Yunqi knew what she was worried about and explained, “Don’t worry. I’ve already told my mother-in-law that this is my dowry shop. They won’t be suspicious.”

“Even better.”

In the days that followed, Pei Muheng occasionally returned home. The couple would exchange a few words beneath the veranda, or dine together at Jinhua Hall. Xu Yunqi was asked by the Princess Consort to assist Lady Xie with household duties. Pei Muheng continued his covert maneuvering in the Tongzhou case. He never mentioned the medicinal cakes, and Xu Yunqi did not make them again. The thin barrier between husband and wife remained unbroken.

Until two days before New Year’s Eve, when Twelfth Prince Pei Xun’s memorial was secretly delivered to the Hall of Heavenly Worship. The matter was closely guarded, but that evening, news came that Pei Xun had been stabbed in Tongzhou. The case of Chen Mingshan’s embezzlement of tribute grain could no longer be concealed—it all spilled out. Chen Mingshan had long been closely linked to the Crown Prince, and all fingers pointed toward the heir apparent.

Public indignation ran high; the soldiers were in an uproar. Prince Qin, riding the tide of public opinion, pressured the Emperor to uncover the mastermind behind it all.

The court was in a state of panic; everyone was terrified into silence.

The Crown Prince knelt outside the Hall of Heavenly Worship, trembling and weeping. The four Grand Secretaries and the chief officials of the Six Ministries waited in Wenzhao Hall for news.

On the twenty-ninth of the twelfth month—the day before New Year’s Eve—Pei Muheng was summoned to the Hall of Heavenly Worship to deliver the year-end reports from various regions.

When he entered, the eastern side hall was thick with sandalwood incense—so heavy it seemed to have been burning all night, and the scent was somewhat pungent.

Pei Muheng walked in without looking sideways and respectfully presented the reports on the Emperor’s desk.

The Emperor, wrapped in a dark blue cloak, leaned against a bright yellow bolster with his eyes closed, resting. The Chief Eunuch Liu Xiping was massaging his shoulders. The Emperor raised a hand to his forehead and let Pei Muheng stand for a while before opening his eyes to look at him:

“Heng’er is here…”

He slowly pushed Liu Xiping’s hand away and sat up a little straighter. His gaze rested briefly on Pei Muheng’s reports, then shifted to a box wrapped in gold-embellished red paper on the other side. He pointed at it casually:

“Heng’er, do you know what this letter contains?”

Pei Muheng kept his head lowered. “Your grandson does not know.”

“Then open it and read it to me…”

Pei Muheng looked up sharply. Seeing the Emperor’s eyes slightly lowered, not meeting his gaze, he glanced at Liu Xiping. Liu Xiping, at that moment, feigned death—eyes on his nose, nose on his heart, as if it had nothing to do with him.

Pei Muheng showed his reluctance: “Grandfather…”

The Emperor raised his hand again.

Pei Muheng knew there was no avoiding it. He took a breath, stepped forward, opened the box, and picked up the envelope inside. It was addressed in handwriting that read “Memorial from the Twelfth Son, Pei Xun.” Pei Muheng had always been close to his Twelfth Uncle—he had taught him reading and hunting—and he knew his handwriting intimately.

He looked at the Emperor once more. The Emperor’s expression had not changed at all; his thin frame remained slumped on the imperial couch, waiting for Pei Muheng to read the letter.

Pei Muheng carefully melted the sealing wax with his fingertip, took out the letter, and scanned it. It was a lengthy memorial of over a thousand words, detailing the entire Chen Mingshan affair from beginning to end. Pei Muheng read it without missing a word:

“Your subject prostrates himself to wish Your Majesty peace:

“By Your Majesty’s trust, I have been entrusted with a great task. I have exerted every effort, not daring to rest for a single day. Through open investigation and secret inquiry, after twenty days of work, I have finally uncovered the truth of this case…”

Throughout the memorial, Pei Xun did not mention the Crown Prince once. But at the end of the letter, he attached a document—a written authorization from the Crown Prince instructing Chen Mingshan to sell the grain, complete with the Crown Prince’s personal seal.

Seeing this document, Pei Muheng’s expression tightened. He carefully returned both items to the Emperor.

The Emperor seemed to have anticipated this outcome. His face showed only exhaustion, no other emotion.

Pei Xun’s meaning was simple: whether or not to punish the Crown Prince was entirely up to the Emperor.

Pei Muheng had to admire his Twelfth Uncle’s subtlety. He had been “stabbed” and lay recuperating in Tongzhou, staying clear of the political storm, while tossing the hot potato back to the Emperor—refusing to play the villain. Few in the court could match that skill.

Since his uncle had hidden the head, Pei Muheng resolved to show the tail.

He could not avoid it any longer.

Sure enough, the Emperor laid his hand on the envelope and suddenly fixed his sharp eyes on Pei Muheng. For a moment, as he looked at him, it seemed he was seeing someone else through him—his expression heavy and distant:

“Heng’er, tell me—how should I deal with the Crown Prince?”

Pei Muheng dropped to his knees with a thud.

Seeing Pei Muheng remain silent, the Emperor gave a cold laugh, slowly rose from his desk, and walked to the window. His gaze followed the window lattice outward. In the distance, the white jade steps of the Hall of Heavenly Worship stretched endlessly toward the Meridian Gate, where mist and shadows mingled. The longer he looked, the more blurred his vision became—as if the clamor of countless voices was gathering into a tidal wave, pounding against the city gates again and again.

“The people of the fourteen border prefectures are fleeing their homes in the snow with their families. From Yulin to Xuanfu, over a hundred thousand soldiers are braving the bitter cold and fighting the Great Wu in bloody battle. The affairs of state lie in sacrifice and warfare. At this critical moment, the Crown Prince, heedless of the empire’s peril, thinks only of his own profit, embezzling state resources for private gain. Is such a man worthy to be master of this realm?”

The old man’s voice was low and deep, like an ancient zither string not plucked for a long time, its notes echoing slowly through the eastern side hall.

The study was wreathed in curling incense smoke. No one answered. The only reply was the faint sound of the Crown Prince weeping from outside the main hall.

After a long silence, the Emperor turned back to look at his grandson, who knelt as straight as a lance. His tone hardened: “Heng’er, what do you say?”

Pei Muheng shifted on his knees to face the Emperor and bowed again: “I beg Your Majesty to forgive this grandson’s presumptuousness in speaking of state affairs.”

This time, the Emperor did not respond with his usual leniency. He brushed the dust from his palm, his expression inscrutable: “Speak, and I will decide.”

A sudden gust of wind stirred the palace lanterns on either side of the door, spinning them restlessly. The sky grew even darker, making Pei Muheng’s eyes seem like deep, still waters with unfathomable depths. He paused in thought, as if making a decision, then prostrated himself with a deep bow:

“Your servant believes it would not be wise for Your Majesty to expose the Crown Prince’s crimes at this time.”

“Why?” The Emperor clasped his hands behind his back and fixed his sharp gaze upon him.

Pei Muheng met his eyes, even his own rimmed with red. “Your Majesty, with a great battle at the border imminent, the soldiers’ morale is uneasy. Now is not the time to replace the heir apparent—that is the first reason. Second, the Crown Prince was made heir at the age of ten and has held that position for over thirty years. His roots in the court run deep, with many supporters. If the Crown Prince falls, the court will descend into chaos, factions will tear each other apart—have you considered the consequences?”

“Therefore, I risk death to urge Your Majesty: for the sake of the empire and the safety of the people, set aside the question of replacing the heir.”

His long, straight spine arched as he pressed his forehead, pale as white jade, to the ground—each word a hammer blow.

The study fell into a silence so deep that even the Emperor’s breathing was inaudible. Only the cold wind whistled past, rustling the memorials on the desk.

The Emperor looked at this grandson—already beyond the measure of mere brilliance—and said nothing for a long time.

Half an hour later, over a dozen court officials of the third rank and above were summoned to the Hall of Heavenly Worship. Before they had even reached the veranda, they heard the Emperor’s voice erupt in rage from within:

“All the civil and military officials in the court—not one dares to speak for the Crown Prince, not even his own father-in-law! But you, you little whelp, you dare to spout nonsense before me, saying he was only negligent in oversight, and that I must not punish him? Yes, yes, he has sat on that throne for thirty years—does that make him wronged? You have astonishing audacity! Guards, drag this insolent wretch away and give him thirty strokes of the rod!”

“As for the Crown Prince—escort him back to the Eastern Palace and confine him to contemplate his mistakes…”

When Prince Qin heard the words “contemplate his mistakes,” his step faltered and he nearly stumbled.

Only confined to contemplate his mistakes?

—

On the eve of New Year’s Eve, the last heavy snow of the season quietly blanketed the entire capital.

Pei Muheng was carried back into Prince Xi’s mansion, his body covered in blood.

Word had been sent ahead from the palace. Prince Xi, the Princess Consort, Xu Yunqi, and the others all waited anxiously beneath the veranda.

At the sight of her son, beaten to the point of death, the Princess Consort stumbled and nearly fell. Her heart aching, she was about to rush over and curse the Emperor’s mother:

“My poor child…”

Before she could touch Pei Muheng, Prince Xi frowned and held her back. “Enough, stop crying. Take him to the study first and send for the imperial physician…”

Before he could finish, a gentle, composed figure stepped calmly forward from the side and pointed toward the direction of Qinghui Garden’s rear courtyard. Her tone was all but indisputable:

“Take him to the western annex of the rear courtyard.”

Since Pei Muheng had forbidden her from entering his study, she would have to take him to the western annex for treatment.

The guards carrying the stretcher looked at Xu Yunqi, then at Prince Xi.

Prince Xi blinked, looking at his daughter-in-law, who seemed even calmer than he was. After a moment’s daze, he nodded. “Do as his wife says.”

It was only natural for a wife to tend to her husband.

The unconscious Pei Muheng was carried to the western annex of Qinghui Garden.

Prince Xi and the Princess Consort tried to follow, but Xu Yunqi stopped them at the door.

The daughter-in-law who normally seemed as if she might be felled by a breath of wind stood gently in the breeze, soft and warm, and said, “Come visit tomorrow afternoon. Before then, he shouldn’t be disturbed.”

The Princess Consort stared at Xu Yunqi, blocking her way, utterly incredulous. She was about to vent her pent-up frustration on her daughter-in-law when Prince Xi decisively scooped her up and carried her away.

“Let the son keep his distance from the mother—just calm down.”

Not only the Prince and Princess Consort, but Huang Wei and Pei Muheng’s guards were all chased away by Yinxing.

Before leaving, Huang Wei, deeply uneasy, clung to the doorframe and refused to let go, gazing at Xu Yunqi with desperate eyes:

“Young Mistress, the master’s wounds are in rather… delicate places. Please let this old servant handle it…”

He did hope that Xu Yunqi and Pei Muheng would grow close, but haste makes waste. If Xu Yunqi were to treat Pei Muheng’s wounds, he feared Pei Muheng would have his head once he woke.

Xu Yunqi stood beneath the veranda and smiled gently. “Can you guarantee that your master won’t be left with scars?”

Huang Wei’s tears threatened to fall, but he dared not answer.

Xu Yunqi said, “I can.”