Chapter 95

Chapter 95

Time seemed to stand still in the mountains. Perhaps the Cold Spring Villa, meticulously renovated under the supervision of the Prince of Yan, had truly captured the Emperor's fancy, for as the Mid-Autumn Festival drew near, there was still no indication of the imperial retinue returning to the capital.

Nevertheless, even with the Emperor remaining outside the city, the gifts bestowed upon the Prince of Chu’s grandson at his full-month celebration were a third more lavish than usual, adding a touch of splendor to what might otherwise have been a rather subdued affair.

With a legitimate excuse not to attend the Prince of Chu’s celebration in person—a mere gift delivery sufficed—Lady Pei saw no reason to suggest returning to the capital for the Mid-Autumn Festival. Instead, she dispatched a seasoned servant back to the capital to deliver festival gifts to relatives and old friends according to a prepared list, and to handle various other matters. After all, with the entire family at the villa, a Mid-Autumn Festival reunion was a reunion, no matter where it took place.

On the day of the festival, surprisingly, the Emperor showed no inclination to host a palace banquet at the villa. Instead, he generously granted several days of leave. With everyone free, Ming Tang selected a waterside pavilion at the villa and invited everyone to enjoy the moon by the water.

The moon in the mountains felt almost within reach, and with its reflection shimmering on the water, its pure light bathed both heaven and earth. The August night breeze carried a slight chill, mingling with the floating fragrance of osmanthus and the fresh scents of various fruits, creating an atmosphere of serene delight.

The kitchen had specially prepared mooncakes, shaped like the full moon, arranged on trays for sharing.

Ming Tang and Pei Yue together used a silver cutter to divide them. The kitchen’s ingenuity was such that each piece had a different flavor, yet none overpowered the others. One bite might reveal the sweetness of sweet bean paste, while the next offered the delicate aroma of lotus paste.

Lady Pei merely praised the "clever idea" and ordered rewards sent to the kitchen. The children, however, were utterly fascinated, exchanging pieces to sample each other’s flavors. Some grimaced at tastes they disliked but, unwilling to waste, swallowed them anyway.

Others mischievously tricked their companions into trying certain flavors, then watched their crestfallen faces, filling the air with laughter and playful shouts.

Carried away by the festive mood, the adults indulged in a few extra cups of light wine, chatting while keeping a watchful eye on the curious children to prevent them from sneaking sips. The joyous clamor, punctuated by childish exclamations, lasted until everyone was thoroughly satisfied.

Ming Tang was slightly tipsy, though her gait betrayed no sign of it—she walked as leisurely and gracefully as ever. The breeze lifted her belt ribbons, occasionally brushing against Pei Yue’s hand, sending a ticklish sensation through him.

Acting on impulse, he caught both the belt ribbons and Ming Tang’s hand in his grasp, only to feel her fingers lightly tracing patterns in his palm. When he looked down, he met her smug smile.

Ming Tang was never particularly reserved, but after drinking, she became even more expressive. Pei Yue allowed her to stride ahead, her hand in his, as though she were leading him forward.

The bright moon hung high in the night sky, their shadows intertwining beneath their feet, intimately.

*

After the Mid-Autumn Festival, the nights grew colder, and the Emperor, having savored the mountain scenery to his heart’s content, finally issued the order to return to the capital.

From the villa palace to the foot of Yuming Mountain, everyone sprang into action.

Pei Ze and the other children had spent the entire summer learning from Instructor Pei Sheng and had been granted permission to ride gentle mares on their own. Now, with the return to the capital imminent, it was a rare opportunity for them to leave the villa and enjoy some freedom. Pei Ze’s excitement grew, and he ran to Lady Pei to ask if they could ride back home.

After two months of lively activity, Pei Ze had grown taller. Though still fine-featured, he was noticeably sturdier and healthier. Lady Pei was pleased to see him so spirited but refused to let him ride alone. “You may ride,” she said, “but only if you share a horse with Instructor Pei Sheng.”

Leaving the villa meant descending the mountain, and no matter how broad and smooth the roads of Yuming Mountain were, Lady Pei would never be so careless as to let children control horses on their own.

Pei Ze was initially disappointed, but then it occurred to him that sharing a horse meant riding a tall steed—far more impressive than a small mare. His spirits lifted, and he rushed back to share the good news with his friends before calling for his nanny to help him pick out clothes.

Mu Qing, amused by Pei Ze’s eagerness to impress onlookers, whispered to Pei Yang, speculating about what flamboyant outfit Pei Ze would choose. But the excitement soon spread to him as well.

Pei Ze, sorting through his wardrobe, suddenly had an idea. “I remember the tailor sent us identical outfits a few days ago,” he said. “Let’s wear those!”

This, of course, had been Ming Tang’s idea. With their small group now expanding to include outsiders, it was practically a proper children's school—how could they not have uniforms?

Among the five children, four bore the Pei surname and already shared some resemblance. The new student, Mu Qing, though not a Pei, was fine-featured and steady, blending seamlessly no matter what he wore.

On the day of their return to the capital, the children indeed wore their uniforms, standing in a neat row before Ming Tang and Lady Pei, a sight to behold.

To match Pei Ze, Instructor Pei Sheng selected a team of matching brown horses, assigning similarly sized guards to escort each child. The procession from Yuming Mountain to the capital was impossible to miss.

Pei Ze, in particular, stood out. Already exceptionally handsome, he now carried an air of boundless energy, the unmistakable mark of a child pampered and free-spirited. Though still young and not yet of age to tie up his hair, his bright eyes and lively demeanor drew gazes effortlessly.

A closer look revealed two white horses—one large, one small—moving alongside the procession without guidance. The smaller horse carried a tiny pannier, from which peeked a small black cat’s head, its large, dark eyes surveying the passersby with fearless curiosity.

Truthfully, since the Emperor’s return, noble families had been streaming back from Yuming Mountain daily, some with processions stretching for miles. But such an enchanting young horse and kitten were rare enough to captivate onlookers.

Pei Ze, sensing the attention, glanced back. Seeing his cat and horse behaving so impeccably, his chest swelled with pride, and he straightened his posture unconsciously.

Entering the capital through Anding Gate, they skirted the imperial palace and turned east at two intersections before reaching the Pei residence. Pei Yue had returned to the capital a few days earlier on business. Knowing his family would arrive today, he waited at a crossroads they were sure to pass.

Spotting Pei Ze looking around excitedly from his guard’s arms, Pei Yue stopped beside a carriage. A jade-white hand lifted the curtain, revealing half of Ming Tang’s face. Pei Yue paused mid-sentence, his words shifting: “A Ze is really… too fond of excitement.”

A Ze was nothing like him or his elder brother had been as children.

Ming Tang leaned out slightly to look back. Pei Ze had seized the pause to rearrange the procession, gathering the children at the rear with Zhao Ye and her kitten, creating a scene like stars surrounding the moon.

With the guard’s support, Pei Ze leaned forward from the horse, arms outstretched toward the pannier. A black streak later, he cradled a small black cat in his arms. Its four white paws kneaded briefly before settling into a proper sitting posture, gazing ahead with composed dignity.

The other children watched enviously, reaching out to coax the cat, but it remained unmoved. Their chatter and laughter quickly filled the air.

Ming Tang smiled. “A Ze really is a magnet for animals.”

Let’s hope he doesn’t attract too many admirers when he grows up.

Pei Yue, who ordinarily despised rakish behavior in men, found himself contemplating how to educate Pei Ze on such matters in the future. Realizing he was overthinking, he chuckled at his own absurdity.

Seeing Ming Tang still waiting for him to speak, Pei Yue was grateful she couldn’t read his thoughts—otherwise, she’d surely tease him. Collecting himself, he withdrew a flat wooden box from his sleeve and handed it to her. “The Emperor likely won’t hold an autumn hunt this year, so we’ll miss the maple leaves of Phoenix Ridge. Fortunately, I acquired some agate pieces in colors perfect for autumn leaves and had them carved accordingly. They’ll make a lovely headpiece for you.”

Ming Tang opened the box to find a cluster of maple leaves transitioning from yellow to deep red. Her experience with jewels allowed her to recognize the stone’s original mottled state, transformed by the artisan’s skill into something natural and vibrant—a masterful transformation.

Her fingertips brushed the cool surface of the leaves, but she sighed. “Since you went to such lengths, why not have it made into a hairpiece and place it in my hair yourself?”

Handing it to her like this left her at a loss.

The thought hadn’t occurred to Pei Yue, and he immediately regretted the oversight. The scene she described filled him with longing, and he reached for the box, intending to take it to a craftsman.

But Ming Tang was quicker, snapping the lid shut and tucking it away. “Once given, it’s mine. Don’t worry—my shop has master artisans who won’t ruin your gift. Once it’s finished, you can place it in my hair yourself. Wouldn’t that be better?”

Their eyes met, Ming Tang’s brimming with delight at the gift. Pei Yue breathed easier. “As long as you like it.”

With the gift successfully delivered, Pei Yue stepped aside as the Pei procession continued. As Pei Ze passed, he held up the kitten’s paw in a wave. “Hello, Uncle!”

A chorus of greetings followed from the children and guards.

Pei Yue waved back, watching them disappear around the corner, Zhao Ye’s elegant tail flicking behind her.

He had timed his departure from the palace carefully, with unattended matters awaiting him. Now that the gift was delivered, he prepared to ride back.

But as he turned, he noticed a green-robed official standing not far away, flinching imperceptibly under his gaze.

Pei Yue recognized him—and knew of his close ties to the Prince of Chu. Seeing him now in a sixth-grade official’s robe, flourishing in Prince Chu’s faction in the Board of Revenue, Pei Yue frowned slightly before riding past him into the palace without a word.

The man showed no visible reaction, though Chen Wenyao inwardly cursed his own involuntary flinch. As Pei Yue passed, he stiffened his posture, feigning nonchalance. Watching Pei Yue pause briefly before the palace guards before proceeding—exempt from the inspection other officials underwent—Chen Wenyao bristled at the overt demonstration of status.

The image of Pei Yue speaking intimately with Ming Tang through the carriage window resurfaced in his mind. Chen Wenyao couldn’t comprehend it—with Crown Prince Pei’s status, what noblewoman wouldn’t suit him? Why be so affectionate with Ming Tang?

Ming Tang was commendable, of course. Had she been able to conceive, Chen Wenyao wouldn’t have taken Ya Yun as a concubine, leading to their divorce.

Did Crown Prince Pei truly intend to raise his nephew as his heir? These noble families, indulging in frivolity from childhood—surrounded by attendants before they were even tall enough to reach a man’s thigh, parading about with cats in their arms—how could they ever amount to anything?

Chen Wenyao’s thoughts turned to his own eldest son, Dong’er, and the troubles at home, his frown deepening in irritation.

Dong’er was past his first birthday now but seemed slow to develop. His mother had privately lamented several times that he was the opposite of Chen Wenyao as a child.

Chen Wenyao had recited poetry before he could walk, but his son, though able to toddle about, could barely form clear words, his stumbling words trying his grandmother’s patience.

His wife Wu Shi did not find it bothersome, but after taking the child to raise under her care, she showed little real care. This even led to a conflict with Ya Yun, and it took considerable effort to have Ya Yun's etiquette tutor recalled, sparing her from daily training.

Chen Wenyao had some fondness for Ya Yun. When Ya Yun once shed tears before him, he found fault with Wu Shi. Over this matter, he even argued with Wu Shi, suggesting that since she was not dedicated to raising the child, it would be better to return him to Ya Yun, sparing her the effort.

Wu Shi agreed on the surface, but within days, Mrs. Chen came to persuade her son: "Families without children often borrow small clothes from others to invite conception. Your wife is childless and feels distressed. If she wishes to raise Dongge, let her. After all, Dongge is a concubine-born child. If she raises him and develops affection, his future will be better when she has her own children."

Chen Wenyao had initially feared that Ming Tang could not bear children and knew she would never willingly take a concubine for him, worrying about leaving no heir. Thus, he secretly sought a child. Now, newly married to Wu Shi, he hoped for legitimate offspring. Seeing his eldest son apparently slow-witted, he had no intention of investing effort in him. Since Wu Shi refused to return Dongge and cited the reason of attracting offspring, he had no choice but to go along with it.

However, the longer Dongge stayed with Wu Shi, the more dissatisfied Chen Wenyao grew with the child’s lack of intelligence. Coupled with the constant discord between his wife and concubine, constantly forcing him to play peacemaker, his household was anything but peaceful.

Amidst the unrest, he couldn’t help but reminisce about the past. Seeing his former wife now living a life completely detached from him, appearing utterly carefree and content, only deepened his frustration.

Only when thinking of the currently flourishing Prince of Chu did his mood lighten slightly.

The emperor was aging, and the elderly particularly delight in new life. Though the Prince of Chu’s legitimate eldest son came late, as the emperor’s youngest grandson, he had received numerous imperial gifts over the past month. The emperor even spoke more to the Prince of Chu, exhorting him that fatherhood demanded he act more prudently.

Regardless of the emperor’s true intentions, the Prince of Chu’s faction privately speculated that the words "henceforth" and "prudently" carried deeper implications.

Previously, the rivalry between the Prince of Chu and the Prince of Jin had centered on the Prince of Chu’s lack of heirs and his status as the second son. The Prince of Jin often leveraged his status as the eldest son, using the pretext of guiding his younger brother to criticize the Prince of Chu.

The Prince of Chu’s faction, having borne the Prince of Jin's bullying for so long, placed great weight on the emperor’s remarks. The more they analyzed, the more they believed the Prince of Chu’s fortunes were turning. Moreover, nearly every influential family in the capital had sent gifts for the young prince’s full-month celebration, further enhancing the Prince of Chu’s standing. However carefully they maintained outward composure, they couldn’t help but envision a bright future, interpreting the emperor’s "henceforth" as highly significant.

Lost in these thoughts, Chen Wenyao slowly walked back to report to his superior. The earlier irritation from encountering Pei Yue’s family had faded. He had always known his family lacked influence, but fate had granted him the chance to earn merit during the emperor’s twilight years, amid the hidden struggle for succession. Now, he was determined to seize this opportunity. As for domestic troubles, they were not worth dwelling on.

After parting with Pei Yue, Ming Tang alighted from the carriage at the Duke of Dingguo’s residence and followed Mrs. Pei inside. Settling in the Hall of Sincere Resolve, she took a sip of tea before tackling the accumulation of pending affairs.

Some affairs she had decided upon while at Yuming Mountain, sending instructions for Zhe Liu to handle. Others required no attention, while a few demanded more than just ideas—Zhe Liu couldn’t manage them alone, and dealing with them remotely was too cumbersome.

For instance, selecting replacements for retiring stewards now fell to her, requiring interviews with candidates. Or the jewelry designs sent to her workshop, which craftsmen found too intricate, necessitating modifications—face-to-face discussions were far more efficient than correspondence. Most pressing was her elder sister Ming Shao’s impending childbirth next month. Ming Tang had prepared gifts for the third-day purification ceremony but needed to review them once more for assurance.

Large and small, about a dozen matters awaited her decision. As Ming Tang began addressing them, people came and went continuously. Only after two hours, as dusk fell, did the stream of visitors cease.

Wrapping up the outstanding matters in one sitting, Ming Tang stood and stretched vigorously, calling for Hong Ying: "Come massage my shoulders—I’ve stiffened from sitting so long."

Wen He had prepared honey water earlier, now at the perfect temperature, and handed it to Ming Tang: "Look how exhausted you are. Some things could wait until tomorrow. Why rush today?"

"If I don’t decide, those below can’t proceed. They’re likely more tired than I am." Ming Tang took a sip, soothing her dry throat, and smiled. "Besides, finishing today means resting tomorrow. If I delay, tomorrow’s me will suffer. To spare today’s me from tomorrow’s scolding, I might as well finish now. If I don’t, what if something else comes up tomorrow and delays things further?"

This circular logic left Wen He dizzy, and she gave up: "Well, you always have your reasons."

She then asked Ming Tang about dinner arrangements and went to convey the dinner orders to the kitchens.

Hong Ying, having some martial training, quickly loosened Ming Tang’s stiff muscles with her massage. Ming Tang soon felt much better and urged Hong Ying to rest or attend to other tasks, sparing her shoulders further strain.

This pattern—starting only to stop shortly after—left Hong Ying exasperated. She complied, leaving her mistress in peace.

Alone, Ming Tang sat by the window, absentmindedly toying with the agate maple leaves. Upon closer inspection, their craftsmanship was even more remarkable—the color gradients so natural, the veins so distinct, they were nearly indistinguishable from real leaves save for their glossy sheen.

Such exquisite work, achieved with rudimentary tools, must have taken at least a month. Pei Yue must have commissioned them long ago—had he guessed then that the emperor would skip this year’s autumn hunt?

Reflecting further, though the emperor had recovered at the start of the year and resumed court affairs without missing a single assembly, his sudden decision to retreat to the Cold Spring Summer Palace—unprecedented in previous years—could be interpreted as indulging in his declining years... or as declining health making him heat-intolerant.

As Commander of the Jinwu Guard, overseeing imperial security and frequently summoned by the emperor, Pei Yue likely noticed something early.

Ming Tang had always considered such grand matters irrelevant to her. Her father, a cautious official, had instilled prudence in the family. But now, as part of the Duke of Dingguo’s household, with Pei Yue in such a pivotal position... Though Mrs. Pei and Pei Yue avoided entanglement, Pei Yue had been raised with the family’s martial traditions, trained daily in warfare, even learning stellar navigation for battlefield use. Could he truly lack any inclination toward choosing a future ruler?

Even if not, surely he had preferences? His agreement to mentor the Princess Consort of Yan’s young brother, though dismissed as trivial due to the boy’s age, struck Ming Tang as quietly telling, given her understanding of Pei Yue.

Now, with the emperor’s health clearly failing... however detached she usually was, Ming Tang couldn’t shake a growing sense of looming turmoil.

Returning the leaves to their box, Ming Tang went to her study, sketching their outline with leftover ink before storing the design with the box and handing it to Zhe Liu: "Take this to the shop tomorrow and have Master Ji craft it personally. Also, remind him that this year’s batch of jewelry for the empress’s birthday must be exquisite. If possible, prepare additional phoenix-and-peony designs in common styles."

With the emperor skipping the autumn hunt, denying many their chance to impress, the empress’s birthday would surely become an arena for showing off.

Zhe Liu memorized the instructions, securing the items without comment. Noticing Ming Tang rummaging through the study, she reminded her: "Didn’t Madam send word asking you to visit and chat? Don’t forget—once you set a date, let me know to arrange the outing."

Ming Tang said languidly, "I know, I know. I just got caught up and forgot." Pausing, she retrieved a box from the shelf, opening it to reveal the crossbow Pei Yue had gifted her during last year’s hunt. After cleaning and inspecting it, satisfied, she resolved to ask Pei Yue for matching arrows during his next leave.

Zhe Liu, startled by the sudden appearance of such a weapon, exclaimed, "Why take out the crossbow now? Practicing aim for the hunt?"

Though Pei Yue’s prediction about the canceled hunt was almost certain, Ming Tang wouldn’t spread rumors. Playing along, she said lazily, "Yes, practicing. Once my aim improves, I’ll hunt more white foxes to trade with nobles for multiplied profits!"

Zhe Liu remembered how Ming Tang had once exchanged a single white fox for all of the grand princess’s game, but she disapproved: "Where would so many white foxes come from? Practicing to bag more ordinary game is more practical."

Ming Tang: "..."

"Fine, fine, I’ll listen to you, Zhe Liu. No wishful thinking—I’ll focus on maximizing my haul of common game to trade for others’ white foxes!" Ming Tang proclaimed with mock solemnity.

Now it was Zhe Liu’s turn to be speechless. Nodding hastily, she excused herself to tidy up.

Watching her leave, Ming Tang smiled: Zhe Liu’s unchanging nature made her endlessly amusing to tease.

Pei Yue had once been similarly entertaining, but as their mutual understanding deepened, he now countered her jabs effortlessly, robbing her of the joy of seeing him flustered and tongue-tied.

His rapid evolution left Ming Tang nostalgic. Yet their current dynamic had its own charm. Torn between the two, she consoled herself: the improved version is invariably superior to the prototype. Contentment brings happiness.