Chapter 96

Chapter 96

Since the emperor’s ascension, the annual autumn hunt had been a fixed event. Prominent families in the capital would find ways to attend, especially the noble households with eligible sons yet to secure official positions—they would turn out en masse. Consequently, it had become customary in the capital to avoid scheduling weddings during this period, either moving them forward or postponing them.

Thus, when news spread that the emperor would forgo the autumn hunt this year, the thoughts of the nobility and court officials remained unknown, but this period of time was genuinely freed up. Those who had intended to socialize through various banquets suddenly found themselves without a suitable occasion. Among life’s major events—weddings, funerals, and marriages—only funerals couldn’t be scheduled in advance. Surely, no one would wish for someone to suddenly pass away just to forge connections at a funeral, would they?

With one major event off the table, another naturally drew everyone’s attention. In the capital, the prices of items associated with phoenixes, peonies, and other motifs suitable as birthday gifts for the empress soared overnight, proving profitable for countless shops that had prepared in advance.

Ming Tang listened to Zhe Liu’s daily reports with great satisfaction. Upon returning to the Ming residence, she was surprised to see Ming Xia and his brother waiting at the gate. "How did the two of you get let out? You didn’t even send me word of your return—you gave me quite a fright."

Ming Xia instructed the servants to take Ming Tang’s entourage to rest, while Ming Zuo immediately began complaining, "Auntie, we’ve told you many times—we’re attending school, not imprisoned!"

"I know, I know. It’s just been so long since I’ve seen you both. I got excited and misspoke."

Ming Xia then explained, "We returned because our teacher asked us to consult Grandfather about whether we should attempt the provincial examinations next year. As for not sending word, Grandmother thought it unnecessary since you’d already mentioned you’d be visiting these past few days."

Ming Tang was genuinely surprised. She paused to scrutinize the brothers. "Truly, one must view others with fresh eyes after time apart. I haven’t paid attention to you two lately, and you’ve made such progress."

The brothers, both around sixteen or seventeen, already held the rank of *xiucai* (scholar). According to their father, they were still far from becoming *juren* (provincial graduate). But since their teacher had raised the possibility, it likely meant he saw potential in them.

In this era, young *juren* were rare, let alone young *jinshi* (metropolitan graduate). Delighted by their academic progress, Ming Tang couldn’t help but feel pleased.

Ming Zuo, however, looked somewhat embarrassed. Rubbing the tip of his nose, he said, "Auntie, don’t get too excited yet. Our teacher has said the same thing to many classmates. Plenty of them left his study full of confidence and joy."

"Maybe all your classmates really do have a chance? If so, you’d not only share the bond of classmates but also the honor of passing the provincial exams in the same year, which would strengthen your ties in the future." Ming Tang always leaned toward optimism. "Besides, isn’t this still up to your grandfather? As the Minister of Rites, surely he can assess your level accurately. If the family agrees to let you try next year, just focus on preparing. At worst, treat it as a trial run. You’re still young—what’s the rush?"

For families like the Mings, who rose through the imperial examinations, as long as the second generation—Ming Li and Ming Rang—remained in office, the third generation could afford to take their time. Even if Ming Xia’s generation failed to distinguish themselves, the family could always return to their hometown and patiently nurture the next generation.

At their age, even if it took another decade or two to succeed, passing the exams by thirty or forty wouldn’t be considered late.

Ming Xia himself wasn’t overly fixated on scholarly honors, but he still hoped to pass sooner rather than later. During the Mid-Autumn Festival, he’d learned that his grandparents had already arranged a marriage for his younger sister, Ming Wan, leaving him feeling left out. Upon discovering that her betrothed was the young master of the Duke of Yu’s household, currently serving in the Imperial Guards, he felt the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders.

If he were to interact with his future brother-in-law, how could he, a rankless scholar, hold his own against someone older and already holding office? How could he stand up for his sister?

Worse, by the time the betrothal rites concluded, he might still be buried in his studies at the academy, only able to return home a few times a year.

According to Ming family tradition, once one attained the rank of *juren*, they no longer needed to bury themselves in studies in the academy. Those with potential for the *jinshi* could continue their studies under family elders at home. Those of suitable age who wished to take a break from rigorous study could either go on study tours to broaden their horizons or manage household affairs to gain worldly experience.

Of course, if one truly lacked academic talent, they could abandon the examination path after marriage and focus on household matters without needing to remain at the academy.

Since Ming Xia was still unmarried, leaving the academy hinged on passing the provincial exams. As the eldest of the third generation, he’d always felt a strong sense of responsibility toward his younger siblings. Ming Wan, being his full sister, held an even deeper place in his heart. Now, as he spoke with his aunt, he eagerly awaited his grandfather’s assessment.

Secretly, he resolved that if his grandfather deemed him unprepared, he would redouble his efforts in the remaining time to improve his chances.

This year, with Ming Rang and his brother assigned to provincial posts and taking several younger siblings with them, the Ming household had grown quieter. Compounding the absence was Ming Tang, who had missed the Mid-Autumn Festival at home for the first time in years. Recalling last year’s lively celebrations, Mrs. Ming felt the emptiness keenly. Only when she saw the trio of aunt and nephews chatting animatedly as they entered did her spirits lift. Without waiting for the younger generation to bow, she pulled Ming Tang to sit beside her, studying her closely. "You look a bit tanned. I suppose you’ve been having too much fun to think of home at the villa, playing with young A Ze and the others under the sun every day."

Ming Tang: "..."

Everyone present was sharp enough to recognize this as Grandmother’s way of complaining that her daughter hadn’t visited lately. The younger ones exchanged glances and discreetly excused themselves, not wanting to witness such affectionate scolding and risk undermining their elders’ dignity.

Having not yet exchanged a word with Ming Wan, Ming Tang watched regretfully as she followed her brothers out. Sitting beside her mother, she teased, "Look how scared they are—none dared stay longer, afraid they’d see you shed tears and struggle to face you afterward."

"Enough of that. How was the villa?" Mrs. Ming, older and averse to unnecessary movement, had never been fond of staying at villas. This year, she’d been even less inclined to join the crowds at Yuming Mountain, making this reunion with Ming Tang their first in quite some time.

Unrestricted by her mother-in-law, Ming Tang had frequently visited home after marrying into the Pei family, once she’d gauged Mrs. Pei’s temperament. Even during her time with the Chen family, Ming Tang had managed household affairs so efficiently that she could occasionally slip out for errands and drop by for a meal—after all, home would never turn her away.

As her youngest and most considerate daughter, Ming Tang’s regular visits had secretly delighted Mrs. Ming, though she outwardly urged her to prioritize her marital family. Now, after nearly two months apart—even knowing Ming Tang, like her elder sister Ming Shao, was settling into her own life—Mrs. Ming couldn’t help but feel somewhat empty amid her pride.

Ming Tang missed her mother too but couldn’t fathom the complex mix of pride and reluctance in Mrs. Ming’s heart. Sensing her mother’s subdued mood, she edged closer, fanning her gently with a round fan. "Let me cool you, Mother."

Seeing Mrs. Ming tilt her face contentedly into the breeze, Ming Tang dismissed the servants and continued, "The mountain villa lacked for nothing. The scenery differed from the main residence, but otherwise, it was much the same—daily conversations and playing with the children. The nights were cooler, even chilly when the wind picked up, so we hardly needed ice. We’d stored so much last winter, but this year, most went unused. During the hottest days, Mother Pei and I distributed some to the clan to avoid waste."

Mrs. Ming clicked her tongue in regret. "How could I have forgotten about that!" She, too, had stored ample ice last year, but with fewer family members at home and her own dislike for using it, much likely remained. Noticing Ming Tang hiding a smirk behind her fan, she sighed. "It’s too late now. Though the days are still warm, it’s no longer hot enough for ice. We’ll just save it for winter."

"Mother, I’ve surpassed you this time," Ming Tang declared proudly. In her early days under her mother’s tutelage, she’d often felt her second chance at life wasted, constantly making minor mistakes and relying on her infallible mother for guidance.

Mrs. Ming paused, recalling Ming Tang’s childhood. Even then, she’d been remarkably steady, though her youth occasionally showed in her speech—sometimes mature, other times delightfully nonsensical. Now, observing her daughter’s neatly coiled hair adorned with exquisite jade hairpins of finest quality and jade beads at her ears, her carefree expression, and her lighthearted yet assured tone when discussing household matters, Mrs. Ming saw a fully capable adult.

Her earlier melancholy faded. Nodding, Mrs. Ming patted Ming Tang’s shoulder. "You’ve grown into your role. Maintain this diligence. The Pei family has been in the capital for generations, and as a future matriarch, your social obligations will be even more intricate than ours. Study hard."

This was age-old advice. Ming Tang agreed, sharing a few anecdotes about her interactions with the Pei clan to reassure her mother before changing the subject. "If Father intends for Xia’er and Zuo’er to attempt the exams, why not recreate the provincial examination hall setting at home? He could assign them practice papers to simulate the real atmosphere and prevent nerves from hindering their performance."

Back when her brothers had taken the exams, Ming Tang had been eager to watch them confined to examination cells, scribbling away. Unfortunately, as the youngest, she’d had no say. Now, having ascended to the elder generation, she was determined to witness her nephews’ ordeal instead.

After all, mock examinations were a time-tested method, proven effective by generations of examinees. While school-organized simulations were useful, a home version allowed for greater customization. Given how often unexpected incidents occurred during major exams, Ming Tang resolved that if her parents agreed, she’d bring Pei Ze to observe and perhaps stage some surprises to toughen the brothers’ nerves.

Mrs. Ming, oblivious to Ming Tang’s ulterior motives, found the idea reasonable but withheld commitment until consulting her husband. She simply remarked, "Always full of ideas."

Having been away so long, Ming Tang lingered at home. Though the moon wasn’t as full as during Mid-Autumn Festival, its near-completeness and the brothers’ lively banter made the evening even more festive.

Minister Ming, ever reserved, didn’t grow more talkative but offered a parting remark as Ming Tang prepared to leave: "I hear the youngest brother of the Princess Consort of Yan gets along well with your household’s youngsters. Such bonds are rare—childhood friendships often endure into adulthood. As elders, you should nurture this connection."

Ming Tang was startled. This was the first time her father had hinted at any stance. Seeing he wouldn’t elaborate, she memorized his words without pressing further.

Upon returning to the Pei residence, after paying respects to Mrs. Pei and learning Pei Ze had retired to his courtyard, Ming Tang took her leave. "Mother, I’ll go check on A Ze."

Following their time together at the villa, Ming Tang and Mrs. Pei had formally arranged a dedicated courtyard for Pei Ze and his friends after consulting their families. With plenty of vacant space, housing five boys posed no issue.

Mrs. Pei went all out, covering all expenses. Noticing how the boys had grown more articulate and spirited since studying with Pei Ze, their families—though reluctant—agreed for the sake of their futures, transforming the Pei family’s day school into a boarding institution.

As for Mu Qing, after the Lantern Festival incident, his clan seemed uncertain how to handle his upbringing. Since he thrived with the Peis, they left him there, sending occasional gifts and inquiries instead of reclaiming him.

Ming Tang arrived at dusk, when the fading light left the courtyard dim. True to the Pei family’s policy against nighttime study to protect eyesight, the boys had finished their lessons early and were now playing outside.

Perhaps Pei Sheng had taught them a move or two earlier, for Pei Ze and a taller boy named Pei Shen were engaged in a mock duel.

One struck, the other blocked; one advanced, the other retreated. At triple speed, it might have resembled an impressive fight scene, but at their current pace and strength, it was more comical than fierce.

The three spectators, however, wore grave expressions, visibly itching to intervene whenever Pei Ze missed a step.

Their solemnity kept the attending maids from laughing, though their strained expressions betrayed the effort.

Amid the bustle, no one noticed Ming Tang’s arrival—until Xiao Ma emerged from the shadows, darting to her feet and rolling onto his back, purring for attention.

Ming Tang, long unaccustomed to being startled by the black cat’s stealth, scratched him fondly from head to tail until he melted into a puddle of contentment. "I heard you’ve been roaming outside lately. Thought you’d gone wild, but you’re still the same." Clever as ever, knowing who controlled the treats.

After feeding him a kitchen-prepared fish, she watched him scamper off, his glossy coat a testament to good care. His age and the season made neutering an imminent consideration—a practice she’d learned was surprisingly common in ancient times, believed to mellow temperament and improve physique. Though the Pei estate lacked such expertise, the capital surely had specialists.

Her musings were interrupted when Pei Ze stumbled during the spar, knocked down by Pei Shen’s greater size and strength.

The servants remained unfazed until spotting Ming Tang, whereupon one hesitated forward before halting at her signal. Their calm suggested such tumbles were routine.

Sure enough, Pei Ze sprang up with feline agility, unfazed. "Shen-ge, you’re so strong! No wonder Master Sheng praises you! That was my fault—let’s go again!"

Pei Shen, equally unbothered, reset his stance, and the bout resumed.

The onlookers, including Mu Qing, paid no mind to this minor incident, chattering away about what had gone wrong earlier and offering Pei Ze advice. In no time, the lively atmosphere returned.

Ming Tang watched quietly for a while before beckoning Nanny Zhou over and instructing, "Have the servants check the children carefully when they go to bed tonight. Even though their movements are gentle, we must guard against any unnoticed sprains."

Nanny Zhou grew somewhat flustered, fearing blame from the household, and quickly defended in a hushed voice, "Young Mistress, it's not that we're careless. It's just that Young Master Pei and the other boys often have minor bumps and scrapes every day, and they don’t like us fussing over them—they bristle if we ask too much."

Ming Tang had no intention of reprimanding her and said gently, "Don’t worry. I’m just here to observe. It’s good for boys to be tough—a few bumps and bruises won’t hurt as long as they aren’t seriously injured. A'Ze moves freely, and if you make a big deal out of it, you might strain their camaraderie. But since they’re still young and their bones are soft, sometimes they might not even realize they’re hurt. You’re their caretakers and more experienced—just take a careful look during their evening ablutions. Even if there are minor injuries, it’s nothing serious—just apply some medicinal salve."

Seeing Nanny Zhou’s expression ease as she solemnly agreed, Ming Tang nodded and continued watching for a while longer. The practice partners had changed—now it was Pei Ze and Mu Qing.

Though Mu Qing was slightly older than Pei Ze, his movements were noticeably less agile. After just three exchanges, he was already struggling to keep up, forced to retreat repeatedly. Yet, his face showed no trace of embarrassment. Once they stopped, he earnestly asked Pei Ze for pointers. This reaction made Pei Ze’s earlier smug expression vanish, replaced by his usual demeanor as he seriously demonstrated the proper way to exert force.

Watching this, Ming Tang couldn’t help but smile. She left without disturbing them, quietly exiting the courtyard. Unconsciously, her thoughts drifted back to her father’s words—why had he suddenly urged her to ensure Pei Ze and Mu Qing maintained a good relationship? She knew her father’s temperament well; for him to say such a thing, he must have received some confidential information that leaned him toward favoring the Prince of Yan.

As for the claim that the two boys had taken to each other—the Princess Consort of Yan’s insistence on sending young Mu Qing to study alongside them—it now seemed genuine. Originally, the companions chosen for Pei Ze were all from the Pei clan, their status naturally lower than his. Even Pei Yang, though two years older, was his junior in the family hierarchy. Though they had grown closer, the three still instinctively showed deference to Pei Ze.

Young Mu Qing, however, was different. Slightly older than Pei Ze, with a princess consort for a sister and a Commander-in-Chief for a father, he came from a large family and was accustomed to interacting with all sorts of personalities. As for A'Ze, he seemed to feel a sense of responsibility toward the boy he had "rescued," listening more attentively to Mu Qing’s words. Just from the brief time Ming Tang observed them, their dynamic reminded her of Ming Xia and Ming Zuo’s brotherly bond—proof of how close they must be in daily life.

Absorbed in her thoughts, she returned to her quarters in a daze. Pei Yue, who had been setting up the *weiqi* board, looked up at the sound of her arrival. He studied her absentminded expression with quiet amusement.

His gaze drifted from her distant eyes down to the tip of her nose, lingering briefly on her slightly parted lips before settling back on her brows, waiting to see how long it would take for her to return to the present.

Ming Tang’s thoughts had wandered from her father’s words to whether Ming Xia and his brother would achieve two-thirds of their scholarly goals next year, then to whether the princes’ affairs might disrupt the autumn imperial examinations. She even mused that since her father was in the Ministry of Rites, unless the exams were canceled outright, no one but the emperor could realistically interfere with his work. By the time she snapped back to reality, she was already speculating whether her elder sister would successfully give birth to a daughter. Doctor Dou always assured them everything was fine, and her sister’s letters conveyed calm and vigor—yet Ming Tang couldn’t help but worry.

Shaking off her reverie, she finally registered Pei Yue’s presence. After a few seconds of blank staring, she sat across from him, picked up a black chess piece, and placed it on the board without the usual guessing ceremony. Tipping her chin, she signaled for him to make his move. "When did you return so quietly? Sitting here motionless—you startled me."

Moments ago, she had been as still as a statue, yet now seamlessly resumed conversation without realizing he’d been there all along... Pei Yue found himself increasingly tempted to cradle her like the little black cat and give her an affectionate rub. Clearing his throat, he made his move and adopted a serious tone. "Didn’t want to interrupt your thoughts. Seems my discretion worked well."

As the game began with rapid exchanges, Ming Tang said, "I was pondering something Father mentioned." She gathered a few more pieces in her palm. "He said childhood bonds are rare and urged us adults to nurture A'Ze and Mu Qing’s friendship. Father rarely speaks this way—has something happened at court, or have you heard any rumors?"

Pei Yue took Minister Ming’s words seriously, pausing to reflect before shaking his head. "The court was uneventful today—no disturbances."

"If it’s not court matters, and Father caught wind of it, it can’t be palace gossip either. Did the emperor summon anyone today?"

"Only the Prince of Chu and the Princess Consort of Yan entered the palace." They exchanged a glance, sensing they might be on the right track.

With this lead—and knowing Minister Ming clearly had more information he couldn’t share—they dropped the speculation and focused on their game.

Meanwhile, Minister Ming, having washed up and retired with Mrs. Ming, found his thoughts drifting back to his audience with the emperor earlier.

Summoned to the imperial study, he had been waiting outside when the Prince of Chu emerged. Usually composed and dignified, the prince now wore a strained smile. One glance told Minister Ming that father and son had just had an unpleasant discussion.

His report concluded, the emperor unexpectedly kept him back with a sigh before inquiring about his family. Minister Ming, proud of his harmonious household—a rarity among officials—briefly summarized his children and grandchildren’s lives, though he admitted knowing little about his younger grandchildren, who had accompanied their parents to distant posts.

The emperor sighed again. "No wonder people say you’ve no worries in life."

A prodigy who achieved the highest honors young, now a pillar of the court with a happy marriage, thriving descendants—by any measure, Minister Ming’s life was enviably complete, the epitome of a scholar’s dream.

The emperor, no stranger to success himself, prided on his reign’s achievements, confident history would judge him favorably—except when it came to his heirs. He had been pleased when the Prince of Chu finally fathered a child, dispelling rumors of infertility... until the prince recently announced another concubine’s conception.

Remembering past secret examinations that confirmed the prince’s robust health, the emperor pieced together the truth: his son, eager to outdo the Prince of Jin’s firstborn by a concubine, had deliberately delayed fathering children until his consort could produce a legitimate heir.

To let rumors fester for such petty rivalry, then rush to prove virility the moment an heir was secured—the emperor could barely contain his frustration. If the prince truly valued his wife, there were subtler ways than this farce. Even a younger legitimate child could have been favored without the theatrics.

The emperor felt utterly fooled for having secretly worried over his son's heir issues and gone through great lengths to have physicians discreetly examine the Prince of Chu, all in vain.

This very son, who had delayed producing heirs for petty calculations, was now gushing sentimentally before him, completely oblivious that the emperor had already seen through his schemes. Seeing the Prince of Chu's delighted expression only stoked the emperor's smoldering irritation. He responded with indifference before bringing up the prince’s previous work in the Ministry of Revenue assisting with tax exemptions, sneering, "I never knew you had such skill in administrative details beyond literary pursuits—enough to earn praise from even the seasoned clerks in the Ministry of Revenue. It seems sending you there was an unintended success."

The Prince of Chu, entirely unaware of the emperor’s thoughts, mistook his displeasure as anger over having a concubine’s child while the principal heir was still young. He felt both pleased that his decision to wait for the princess consort’s pregnancy had been wise and bitter about his own circumstances—had he been born to the empress, he wouldn’t have to scheme so desperately now.

Stung by the emperor’s cold remarks, the prince’s emotions were too tangled to maintain his usual composure. When he encountered Minister Ming from the Ministry of Rites, he was in no mood to talk and left after a mere greeting.

Minister Ming naturally had no way of knowing what had transpired between father and son, nor could he guess the emperor’s thoughts. But from their demeanors and the emperor’s sparse words, he pieced together hints.

His chat with the emperor was brief, yet within that short time, the emperor first spoke of Minister Ming’s descendants, sighed over his seemingly worry-free life, then casually mentioned amusing anecdotes about the young imperial grandsons. It was then that Minister Ming suddenly realized: though the Prince of Yan was usually quiet, his reputation merely "steady" and unremarkable, his birth mother low-ranking and mother’s family undistinguished—all seeming disadvantages that often led to him being overlooked like the Prince of Ping—he had not given up. Instead, he had channeled his efforts elsewhere.

Take the emperor’s grandsons, for instance. The Prince of Jin, the eldest, had a firstborn son by a concubine and a second by his princess consort, both already studying—earning the emperor’s praise was expected. But the Prince of Yan’s son and daughter were likely only five or six this year. As Minister Ming tallied, the emperor’s impression of these two was far more vivid—his comments weren’t just perfunctory like "their handwriting is decent," but carried genuine affection.

The emperor, burdened with endless state affairs and rarely even seeing his own sons, could only have formed such impressions through regular interactions. After some thought, Minister Ming concluded that the Princess Consort of Yan must have brought the children to see the emperor during her visits to the empress.

Privately, Minister Ming had analyzed the personalities of the imperial princes, yet he had unconsciously overlooked these two younger ones. Now it seemed the Prince of Ping truly had no ambitions, until now barely attending the Ministry of Justice’s affairs, drifting along sporadically. But the Prince of Yan, silent and steady, had quietly secured an advantage in a seemingly minor yet crucial area. Minister Ming was astonished at his own obliviousness—only now noticing the signs, and far too late at that.

Pondering all day, upon returning home and seeing Ming Tang, he recalled how the Princess Consort of Yan had sent her younger brother to the Pei family under the pretext of childhood companionship. Minister Ming grew increasingly convinced that this imperial couple had put careful plans in motion. He had always admired those who acted over spoke and planned carefully. Combined with knowing Chen Wenyao had secretly aligned with the Prince of Chu, his inclinations leaned subtly, prompting him to advise his daughter.

After tossing and turning in thought, Mrs. Ming finally lost patience and smacked her husband’s back. "If you can’t sleep, go to the study."

Minister Ming halted his musings at his wife’s rare irritation and soothed, "Alright, alright, I’ll sleep now."

The elderly couple settled in, but Ming Tang and Pei Yue, being young and energetic, grew more spirited as their chess game progressed. Finally reaching the end, after much counting, Ming Tang won by a narrow margin of one and a half moves.

Pleased with her victory, she scooped the pieces into their jar and strode off to wash up, not even protesting when Pei Yue entered during her washing up.

Yet the household lacked the privacy of their villa’s spring-fed baths. After some intimacy with Pei Yue, Ming Tang grew flustered imagining the servants’ speculations, forcing Pei Yue to tidy up hastily before they could retire properly, his arm draping over her as they slept.

The next morning, by the time Ming Tang rose, Pei Yue had already finished his exercises and breakfast. Seeing his radiant post-exercise glow first thing lifted her mood, yesterday’s embarrassment long forgotten. Noticing the maids had already cleaned the washroom, she paused only briefly before calmly styling her hair.

Pei Yue, clearly with something to say, leaned nearby watching her hair being pinned up. He stepped forward, adding weight to her coiffure—the maple-leaf comb Zhe Liu had retrieved yesterday, perfectly suited to today’s updo.

"When did you get this?" Ming Tang was genuinely puzzled, certain he’d been with her since returning.

Pei Yue’s smile, suppressed since yesterday, now spread freely. He deflected the truth, saying instead, "Earlier, you asked me to find small arrows for a crossbow. I’ve brought a crate and left it in the study. But since these are controlled and hazardous, if you practice while I’m away, have a guard supervise."

As Ming Tang nodded, that urge to stroke her hair affectionately resurfaced. This time, Pei Yue indulged it, lightly tousling her hair before lingering on the comb. "It truly looks best on you."

Indeed, merely gifting jewelry paled beside the act of adorning her himself. Watching the red leaves brighten her dark hair, imagining her wearing it to future gatherings, Pei Yue felt he’d learned another skill to deepen their bond—truly rewarding.

Their mirrored gazes held, and Ming Tang mused that bronze mirrors must soften features—never before had "complementing each other" seemed so apt for them.

Pleased by the sight, she cheerfully chose training garb, retrieved the crossbow and arrows from the study, and headed to the training grounds with Hong Ying.

She couldn’t possibly waste such a promptly granted request from Pei Yue.