Chapter 49

Chapter 49

The hoofbeats grew clearer, prompting the maids to quickly gather around Pei Ze, fearing an unfamiliar rider might startle the young master. Only upon recognizing their heir’s distinctive mount did they relax, waiting by the roadside to greet him.

Pei Ze was so engrossed in watching ants fight that he didn’t notice someone approach, still narrating the tiny battle.

“Feint left, attack right!”

“A false move!”

Hearing these words distinctly, Nan Wang’s lips twitched as he straightened up. “Your little nephew is truly… amusing. Such vivid commentary for watching ants.”

Startled by the voice, Pei Ze rose abruptly. Having crouched too long, he staggered a few steps, bumping into Pei Yue’s leg before steadying himself. He then tugged at the hem of Pei Yue’s robe, shook his head slightly, and tilted it, looking uncertain. “Uncle Nan?”

Remembering his elders’ teachings, he composed himself and bowed properly to Nan Wang.

Nan Wang, who had been preparing to reintroduce himself, was surprised that Pei Ze, despite his young age, still remembered him. Caught off guard by the boy’s politeness, he found himself bowing in return. “Greetings, Young Master Pei.”

As Ming Tang stepped out of the pavilion, she witnessed an amusing sight: a grown man solemnly bowing to a small child.

Pei Ze was young and short, making the scene oddly incongruous. Suppressing a laugh, Ming Tang gave Pei Yue a questioning look.

Pei Yue understood her silent inquiry and cleared his throat. “This is my good friend, Nan Wang, eldest son of Lady Nan from Nanyi Prefecture.”

Nan Wang came back to himself, standing up slightly embarrassed. Rubbing his nose, he greeted Ming Tang. “I’m a few years older than Pei Yue, so I’ll take the liberty of calling you sister-in-law.”

He was refined and elegant, speaking like a cultured scholar. Despite their contrasting appearances and backgrounds, Ming Tang politely returned the greeting, though inwardly curious how these two had become friends.

Pei Ze, roused from his ant-watching endeavor, obediently stood by while the adults conversed. Once silence fell, he tugged Ming Tang’s sleeve excitedly. “Mother, come look! The ants are fighting!”

Ming Tang smiled apologetically at the two men before following Pei Ze and crouching beside him, their heads close together. Moments later, she asked, “What’s so interesting here?”

She summoned Wen He, took a small dish and a slender bamboo stick, dipped it in honey, and wrote the character "Ze" on the ground.

Then, Ming Tang sat nearby on a stool while Pei Ze remained captivated.

After a while, Pei Ze exclaimed joyfully, “There’s a word on the ground!”

The honey attracted swarms of ants, which gradually traced the strokes Ming Tang had left, forming a dark, crawling character on the soil.

“This character reads ‘Ze’—it’s your name.”

Pei Ze was delighted, studying it intently until the ants gradually dispersed. Rising, he stumbled again, this time falling against Ming Tang’s knees. Looking up at her admiringly, he said, “Mother is so clever!”

Watching the entire exchange while chatting with Pei Yue, Nan Wang was amazed. He nudged Pei Yue. “I was wrong earlier. Your little nephew actually falls for such tricks?”

Using honey to lure ants into forming characters was something he had outgrown by age three.

Pei Yue blocked Nan Wang’s elbow with his hand, exchanging a few subtle moves before Nan Wang withdrew his aching arm with a grimace. Rubbing it, he muttered, “You’ve really gotten formidable.” In the past, teasing him about his looks had been harmless.

Observing Ming Tang and Pei Ze interact harmoniously, Nan Wang admitted, “You weren’t wrong earlier. Your wife is indeed remarkable.”

Regardless of her intentions, children were sensitive. Her natural closeness with Pei Ze showed genuine affection.

Pei Yue nodded without modesty. “That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said today.”

Nan Wang snorted but couldn’t help feeling happy for his friend. Securing a suitable marriage was difficult—especially since Ming Tang was a remarried woman. Their union seemed even more unlikely than his own friendship with the second son of the Duke of Dingguo.

Since the pavilion remained unchanged, the two men moved there to sit and chat while Ming Tang and Pei Ze continued observing ants.

Wen He, having helped entertain Pei Ze, turned and saw the heir and his friend entering the pavilion. Her heart raced—the romance novel Ming Tang had been reading lay openly outside.

Hurrying inside, she found the two men had just seated themselves. She stepped forward, poured fresh tea, and discreetly retrieved Ming Tang’s cup along with the book, moving swiftly and silently.

Nan Wang watched her leave, amused. “Does she think we didn’t see that book?”

Pei Yue sipped his tea. “One shouldn’t pry into what isn’t proper.”

His sharp eyes had spotted the book face-down upon entering. At first, he assumed it was another dry tome he’d once seen near Ming Tang’s pillow—until he noticed the unmistakable title *The Immortal in the Mirror*, a popular romance.

Though privately surprised by his wife’s taste, he wouldn’t allow his friend to mock it.

Nan Wang sighed. “Fine, fine. My mistake. I saw nothing.”

Pei Yue nodded. “Don’t let it happen again.”

Nan Wang rolled his eyes and stood. “You’re no fun. I’ll go pay my respects to the Dowager.”

Pei Yue nodded, signaling a servant to guide him, but stayed seated, gazing at the woman and child outside, a faint smile unconsciously tugging at his lips.

By dinner time, since Nan Wang was treated like family by Mrs. Pei, the meal was arranged in the estate’s garden.

Though called a garden, it was more of a wild one, with common plants growing freely, exuding natural beauty. A single osmanthus tree bloomed fragrantly, scenting the breeze.

Instead of dining together, individual low tables were set. Pei Ze, finding this novel, refused to stay seated.

Like a butterfly flitting between flowers, he carried a small bowl from Mrs. Pei’s table to Ming Tang and Pei Yue’s, collecting tidbits at each stop.

Given his age and the casual setting, no one minded. Mrs. Pei sipped wine, smiling as she reminded everyone not to give Pei Ze alcohol.

Boldened, Pei Ze hurried to Nan Wang’s table and pointed at a piece of roasted meat. After eating it, he proudly announced, “Mother traded for it! So much meat—we can’t finish it all!”

“Traded?”

Pei Yue explained, “Princess Taihua wanted a white fox, so we exchanged our hunt for it.”

Nan Wang paused, then chuckled. “Ah, that makes sense. Though it might not be for her—it could be for Prince Yan. I saw them hunting foxes together recently.”

As night deepened, lanterns illuminated the garden like daylight. Ming Tang felt uneasy that a simple fox pelt involved Prince Yan. Leaning toward Pei Yue, she softly asked, “Will this cause trouble?”

Perhaps due to the wine, her closeness carried a sweet fragrance. Pei Yue’s heartbeat quickened, recalling the lingering scent in her room—so different from this moment.

Pushing aside wandering thoughts, he shook his head. “Just a pelt. It’s fine.”

More concerning was the dismissed guard at the hunting grounds. The white deer was likely arranged by a prince, and now that the emperor knew, whoever planned it might resent Pei Yue for interfering.

Across the table, Nan Wang’s tipsy voice floated over. “Does your family favor white this year? First a white deer, now a white fox.” After a pause, he added with a low chuckle, “But without that deer, we would’ve missed quite a spectacle. Some fool from the Ministry of Revenue proposed a ceremony and got exiled to guard imperial tombs. Meanwhile, that Chen fellow stole the show…”

His words slurred, and he sobered slightly, cutting himself off. Glancing at Ming Tang instructing a maid and Pei Yue appearing distracted, he relaxed and suddenly called out, “The moon is lovely, but wine without music is dull. Pei Yue, do you have a pipa?”

Pei Yue had no idea and looked to Mrs. Pei.

After a moment’s thought, she nodded and sent a maid to fetch an old pipa from storage. “I remember it’s been here over twenty years. See if it still works.”

Nan Wang plucked the strings and praised, “A fine instrument!” After tuning it, he cradled the pipa and grinned at Pei Yue. “As a guest, I volunteer to perform. What will the host offer in return?”

Hearing this, Ming Tang turned, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Pei Yue had practiced martial arts since childhood. If he were to contribute to the entertainment now, it would likely be... a sword dance?

Sure enough, after a brief pause, Pei Yue rose reluctantly and replied, "How about a sword dance?"

In the Great Xia Dynasty, mastering both arts and arms was prized. It was common for women to choreograph sword dances to appeal to spectators, but sword dances performed by men were exceedingly rare. Thus, when Pei Yue fetched his sword and drew the three-foot blade from its scabbard, revealing a flash of silver light, the garden fell silent.

"Twang—"

The sound of the pipa rang out. Pei Yue stood motionless, then abruptly burst into action as the pipa's melody swelled.

His movements were swift and fierce from the very start, the gleam of his sword nearly cutting through the darkness under the candlelight. The pipa's notes grew faster and more urgent, and Pei Yue weaved and pivoted across the space, his sword flashing so densely it seemed like quicksilver streaking the air.

Nan Wang played the pipa skillfully, and Pei Yue's sword dance was spellbinding. Combined with Pei Yue's strikingly handsome face illuminated by the candlelight, Ming Tang watched, utterly entranced, and couldn't resist taking a drink to calm her pulse.

As the rich, mellow liquor slid down her throat, Ming Tang propped her chin in her palm, her gaze fixed unwaveringly on Pei Yue, who alone filled the space like a one-man battalion. She couldn't help but sigh inwardly: Talk about a lucky break...

The pipa's tempo gradually slowed, and Pei Yue's movements softened in response. Compared to the earlier storm-like intensity, his swordplay now resembled a gentle spring rain—yet it carried an undercurrent of a razor’s edge beneath that kept the audience on edge.

Sure enough, moments later, the pipa suddenly surged in urgency, and Pei Yue leaped into the air, his sword flying from his hand and soaring high above. Ming Tang's breath caught, but then she watched as the blade descended straight back into the scabbard in Pei Yue's grip, sliding home with a click.

The pipa's melody continued, gradually easing into a flowing rhythm, but Pei Yue stood motionless in the center, signaling the end of the performance. Ming Tang exhaled deeply, thoroughly satisfied, and poured herself another cup of wine.

Mrs. Pei also seemed to shake off her trance. Seeing Pei Ze pressed tightly against her side, still gaping, starstruck, and noticing the many additional servants who had gathered in the garden—though they weren't supposed to be on duty that evening—a surge of pride welled up in her chest. Her gaze toward Pei Yue grew even more tender.

As the music faded, Mrs. Pei turned to Nan Wang with a smile. "It’s getting late. Why not stay here?"

Nan Wang laughed heartily and didn't decline. "Thank you for the fine pipa, Auntie. That was a hell of a show!"

He picked up the remaining wine from the table, stood, and followed a servant to the guest quarters to rest.

In the garden, Mrs. Pei glanced at the young couple and smiled faintly before instructing someone to carry the still-excited Pei Ze away, taking her leave first.

In moments, the once-bustling crowd in the garden dispersed like flowing water, leaving only the slightly tipsy Ming Tang seated at the table.

Pei Yue bent down, scooped her up into his arms, and carried her along the candlelit stone path back to their room. Yet, unbidden, his thoughts drifted to her utterly indifferent reaction when she heard the words "that Chen fellow."

Lowering his gaze, he watched as Ming Tang nestled comfortably against him in his arms, her warmth bleeding into him. A mix of joy and faint unease stirred in his chest.

She hadn't shown the slightest attachment to Imperial Censor Chen, whom she had known for years... Would she one day treat him the same way?

Crossing the threshold, he laid her on the bed and leaned over her, studying her face for a long moment before suddenly smiling.

Why should he compare himself to someone like that?