Chapter 97

Chapter 97

As it turned out, the archery skills Ming Tang had acquired the previous year had long since faded from memory. After stringing the crossbow and meticulously aiming for what felt like an eternity, as she finally squeezed the trigger, Ming Tang couldn't help but question her own recollection: Was it truly she who had shot that fox in the hunting grounds last year?

Or had the fox simply been so disoriented that it blundered into her arrow, granting her a stroke of pure luck?

Fortunately, despite Ming Tang’s usual indolence and constant search for leisure, when she set her mind to mastering a skill, she displayed remarkable perseverance.

It was autumn, a season of perfect weather, with bright yet gentle sunlight. Ming Tang began dedicating half an hour daily to the training grounds whenever she found a spare moment.

Occasionally, she would encounter Pei Ze and others, who were there under Master Pei Sheng’s tutelage, practicing horsemanship.

Master Pei Sheng still forbade them from riding alone, but compared to before, when riding with a guard, the reins were now entirely in Pei Ze’s hands. The guard only intervened if the speed became excessive or if the young rider lost control of the horse.

Though this training method still failed to satisfy these eager children, impatient to grow up, it was certainly better than being led by the reins. After a few futile protests, they had no choice but to accept the adults’ arrangements.

Da Mao had also reached the age for training. Whenever Pei Ze and the others galloped over obstacles, Da Mao would follow, leaping over slightly lower hurdles under command, her movements light and agile, like a dancing cloud.

For a young foal showing such early promise as a prized horse, the trainers found her remarkably easy to manage. Pei Ze, however, faced a peculiar challenge: every time the riding lesson concluded, Da Mao would trot up to him, circling around and aggressively hissing at the horse he had ridden during the lesson, displaying the spirited temperament of a future champion steed in her youth.

Though young, Pei Ze could confidently declare, “I watched Da Mao being born.” Naturally, he was exceptionally partial to this foal he had anticipated even before her birth. Knowing Da Mao wasn’t yet ready to be ridden, he couldn't bear to alter her training schedule. Instead, he consulted with his friends and both instructors, arranging to change their riding lesson times.

By avoiding Da Mao’s training sessions, ensuring she didn't witness him interacting with other horses, and increasing the time he spent playing with her during breaks, he finally managed to appease her.

Having observed the entire affair, Ming Tang was impressed by Pei Ze’s methods and tact. For such a young boy, he was surprisingly adept at navigating complex social situations.

With more people frequenting the training grounds, especially Ming Tang, who usually only made occasional brief appearances, Pei Ze and the others naturally took notice. During their breaks, they would gather to watch her practice.

At first, they were quite annoyed when the maids kept them at a distance, forbidding close observation. But after witnessing Ming Tang fire the crossbow, the small arrow streaking like a meteor only to embed itself in a haystack far from the target, they immediately settled down. They watched obediently from the designated area, only approaching to speak with her after Ming Tang had finished.

While Ming Tang was busy developing this new skill—partly out of personal interest and partly for its potential future utility—the children, who spent their days either practicing horsemanship or learning basic martial arts from Master Pei Sheng, watched her for several days with keen interest. Eager to try something new, they promptly asked if they could also learn archery.

Master Pei Sheng did not refuse. After requesting a few lightweight training bows and blunted arrows from Pei Yue, he set up a new training area far from Ming Tang’s, commencing new lessons.

Ming Tang fully supported the children’s enthusiasm for learning new skills. Feeling she had become a role model, she became even more consistent with her practice schedule, determined to set a good example. After some time, she made considerable progress. Though she still couldn't claim perfect accuracy, she now hit the bullseye three or four times out of ten when shooting at stationary targets.

Her progress was commendable, but her arms, unaccustomed to such intense exercise, were initially very sore.

This muscle discomfort from overuse didn’t diminish with continued practice. Instead, it stubbornly persisted even after Pei Yue began providing massage services. That was, until one such massage session escalated into something indescribable, forcing Ming Tang to skip practice for two days. For a while afterward, the mere sight of Pei Yue’s hands triggered vivid memories, which, curiously, cured her soreness for good.

As for Pei Ze and the others, being much younger and using bows that required more effort than Ming Tang’s crossbow, their arms ached even more. On top of that, they still had daily penmanship drills, making their discomfort imaginable. Somehow, they must have negotiated with Master Pei Sheng, because when Ming Tang next visited the training grounds, the children’s presence had dwindled to occasional appearances.

Time flew by amidst these practices, and before long, it was the Empress’s birthday.

Once concessions were made, it was difficult to roll them back. Last year, after deliberation, the court had expanded the range of officials' wives permitted to attend the Empress’s birthday audience to include those of the seventh rank. Naturally, no one dared suggest reverting the policy this year.

Thus, just like the previous year, before dawn, the streets of the capital were bustling with carriages, packed with officials' wives on their way to the palace for the audience.

Ming Tang and Mrs. Pei, in their full court regalia, boarded their carriages one after another. Mrs. Pei scrutinized Ming Tang, feeling that something about her had changed.

Her observation skills were always keen, and after a moment’s thought, she pinpointed the difference. “You seem more upright now,” she remarked approvingly. “Such formal wear suits you—it gives you a more spirited appearance. It seems exercise does have its benefits. Very good.”

Ming Tang herself was oblivious, taking it as Mrs. Pei’s usual compliment. She immediately reciprocated, praising Mrs. Pei’s exceptional grace. After this exchange of mutual flattery, they soon arrived at their destination.

At the palace gates, Ming Tang stepped down with Mrs. Pei and followed the eunuch guiding them to the Phoenix Palace. Along the way, many others shared Mrs. Pei’s observation, their gazes subtly lingering on Ming Tang’s back.

The birthday ceremony followed much the same procedure as the previous year. For Mrs. Pei, it was a familiar routine; for Ming Tang, it was now a familiar experience. Once in position, she simply followed the ritual officer’s cues.

The only distraction was the tiny figure beside Princess Consort of Yan—a little girl so small she barely reached three feet tall. Ming Tang couldn’t help stealing glances, reminded of her nieces’ toddler years. Each had been more adorable than the last.

The Empress seemed to share this sentiment. Before the ceremony ended, a palace maid was sent to carry the Little Princess away, sparing her the discomfort of repeatedly kneeling and rising.

Soon after, the ceremony concluded. Since the Empress did not summon anyone, the officials' wives slowly made their way back out of the palace. At the carriage area, where families reunited with their waiting attendants, the orderly lines dissolved into mingling knots of conversation.

Ming Tang first stood with her mother, then encountered Mrs. Zhang, her elder sister’s mother-in-law. Before they could exchange more than a few words, Duchess of Yu also approached, engaging Mrs. Pei in casual conversation.

These women—whether wives of ministers or duchesses, with Ming Tang herself holding the title of a Marquis's wife—wore the most elaborate and dignified court attire among the assembled officials' wives. Their heavy phoenix crowns gleamed in the sunlight, unmistakably marking their status. Standing together, they drew countless discreet glances from onlookers.

Mrs. Chen, who had attended once before and spent the past year fantasizing about her future glory, was no exception.

She had privately imagined countless scenarios where her son’s promotions would elevate her to a first-rank noble title, earning her endless flattery. Seeing these women dressed in the very regalia she coveted, she couldn’t help but stare.

Her gaze first landed on the most striking figure—Ming Tang. Dressed in full noble attire, radiant and somehow even more imposing than the previous year, Mrs. Chen’s mood instantly soured. She turned to leave, silently consoling herself: *This is only her first year. These highborn families care about appearances—just wait a few more years. That murderous harpy of a mother-in-law won’t keep treating her so well. A hen that can’t lay eggs will be cast aside sooner or later.*

Ming Tang, meanwhile, was engrossed in asking Mrs. Zhang about Ming Shao, whose due date was imminent. Even if Mrs. Chen had thrown a tantrum on the spot, Ming Tang likely wouldn’t have noticed, let alone a mere glance. It wasn’t until her mother lightly coughed to remind her to wrap up the conversation that she finally stopped.

As luck would have it, shortly after Ming Tang returned home and changed out of her formal robes—still wondering if her sister would finally have the daughter she longed for—a messenger arrived from the Zhang residence with joyous news: The young mistress had given birth, a healthy baby girl.

Overjoyed, Ming Tang handed out the largest red envelope she had prepared and asked the messenger to convey her heartfelt thanks to Mrs. Zhang.

Normally, birth announcements only needed to be sent to the mother’s family. The fact that someone had come to the Pei residence specifically was clearly Mrs. Zhang’s thoughtful gesture, knowing how worried Ming Tang had been.

On the day of the baby’s third-day bathing ceremony, Ming Tang arrived early. Every servant she passed bustled with cheerful energy, and Mrs. Zhang herself was beaming. After exchanging a few pleasantries, she told Ming Tang, “Mother and daughter are both well. The little one weighs five catties six ounces, so we’ve temporarily called her ‘Six Ounces.’” She then had a maid escort Ming Tang to Ming Shao’s courtyard.

Watching Ming Tang’s departing back, Mrs. Zhang felt genuine satisfaction with her daughter-in-law.

Not only was Ming Shao consistently reliable, she had also borne three sons straight. Though this time it was a daughter, the baby shared a birthday with the Empress—an auspicious coincidence. Her family connections were impeccable, with every member holding official positions. As for her younger sister, though her marriage had been rocky and the subject of gossip, her remarriage into the Pei family and subsequent stability rendered the gossip meaningless.

The more Mrs. Zhang thought about it, the more pleased she was with this match. While hosting guests for the ceremony, she made no secret of her pride and affection for her eldest daughter-in-law.

Though Ming Shao wasn’t present to witness this, she could guess. When Ming Tang entered with the maid, she knew her mother-in-law must be in high spirits and didn’t ask further. Once Ming Tang sat by the bed, Ming Shao carefully unfolded the swaddling cloth to show off her precious daughter, her voice brimming with joy. “Thank goodness it’s not another little hellion.”

After raising three sons, Ming Shao had had enough.

The newborn’s skin was still reddish, her eyes closed in sleep. Ming Tang knew she would grow to adore the baby, but for now, without an established bond, assured of her health, Ming Tang turned. Instead, she asked Ming Shao, “How are you feeling? What did Doctor Dou say?”

Used to Ming Tang’s unconventional lack of gushing over newborns, Ming Shao didn’t find her younger sister’s demeanor cold. Rewrapping the blanket, she replied gently, “I’m fine. It’s just that at my age, it’s more exhausting than when I had Third Son. I slept straight through until yesterday afternoon. If you’d come then, you wouldn’t have seen me.”

Only then did Ming Tang relax, and the sisters chatted about daily life.

When Ming Shao learned that Ming Tang now practiced archery daily and occasionally went horseback riding, she was envious. “What a delightful life you lead.”

Ming Tang shrugged. “That’s the benefit of not having children.” Had Ming Shao not unexpectedly gotten pregnant, with her two older sons requiring little supervision and only the youngest needing attention, her life wouldn’t have been much different.

Ming Shao sighed. “Who could’ve predicted this?”

Though she and her husband were at an age where such surprises were rare, their marital relations continued. Unwilling to delegate her husband’s needs to others, she had assumed—after six childless years since Third Son’s birth—that she was past such risks. Yet here they were.

Already blessed with heirs and aware of childbirth’s dangers, Ming Shao had been devastated upon discovering the pregnancy. Even now, with her long-desired daughter safely delivered, she couldn’t help feeling it would’ve been better to avoid the risk altogether.

Sighing again, she mused, “If only there were a way to prevent pregnancy without harming the body.”

In another era, such remedies would be sold in every drugstore. But this thought remained unspoken. After a pause, Ming Tang lowered her voice (the maids being absent) and brought up the household’s little black cat, Xiao Ma.

Ten days prior, someone had been found to neuter male cats. Ming Tang had immediately arranged the procedure, and Xiao Ma, now bearing stitches, had been moved back to Cheng Yi Hall for recovery. Perhaps mourning his lost virility or simply in pain, he now spent his days curled listlessly in his bed, his inky face a picture of feline despair. Only when someone passed by would he lift his head to gaze mournfully at their movements, like a new living decoration in the hall—an amusing sight.

When Ming Shao didn’t respond, Ming Tang trailed off and noticed her sister’s concerned, hesitant expression.

Realizing how her cat anecdote might’ve sounded after Ming Shao’s wish to avoid future pregnancies, Ming Tang hurried to clarify, “Don’t misunderstand, Eldest Sister. I wasn’t suggesting you do the same—it just came to mind.”

Ming Shao finally relaxed: "Choose your words more carefully next time. Luckily, it's just the two of us. If others heard, it would be quite embarrassing."

Ming Tang quickly agreed.

Before long, Mrs. Ming also arrived. As soon as she entered, she first checked on Ming Shao, and seeing her in good spirits, she turned her attention to Liu Liang. After just one glance, she declared, "Liu Liang’s eyes and brows resemble yours, but her mouth looks a bit like your husband’s. She’ll surely grow up beautiful."

Ming Tang looked left and right but couldn’t discern even the slightest resemblance between the red-faced little bundle and her elder sister. As the two grew increasingly animated in their discussion and she found herself unable to interject, she quietly stepped back.

Just as she was feeling bored, a young boy’s clear voice came from outside the door: "Is Mother well today? And my little sister? Didn’t they say Grandmother and Auntie were here? Where are they?"

The two fell silent in unison, listening as Ming Shao’s maid patiently answered the little master’s questions before trying to coax him away. However, while Zhang Dun had been easy to persuade the day before—understanding he shouldn’t disturb his mother—today, knowing Ming Tang was here, he refused to leave without seeing her.

Ming Tang stood up. "I’ll go talk to Third Young Master for a bit and then head straight to the side hall."

Zhang Dun was thrilled to see Ming Tang, eagerly pulling her hand and asking all sorts of questions. Perhaps because words from Ming Tang’s mouth carried more weight, once he heard that his mother and sister were both well, he stopped repeating his inquiries and instead turned his attention to Ming Tang. "Why isn’t A Ze here?" he asked.

Ming Tang chuckled. "He has lessons at home. It’s not a rest day—how could he skip class so casually?"

Zhang Dun immediately fell silent, then after a moment whispered, "But I wanted to see my sister~ My older brothers said they’re too grown-up now and wouldn’t be allowed in, but since I’m still little, I can watch her washing ceremony and tell them all about it later. I’ll make up the schoolwork another day."

Ming Tang nodded at this. "You’ll be a big brother now. Study hard so you can protect your sister in the future."

Zhang Dun replied with great determination, "I will!" Then he accompanied Ming Tang to the small hall where the ceremony would soon take place.

Though the weather wasn’t yet cold, given the newborn’s fragility, Mrs. Zhang had ordered the underfloor heating to be lit, inviting relatives only just before the ceremony began. Even so, by the time the ritual neared its end and guests took turns tossing gold and silver trinkets into the basin, some were already beaded with sweat.

Mrs. Zhang apologized profusely. Once the ceremony concluded, she quickly had Liu Liang bundled up and returned to Ming Shao’s side, then repeatedly expressed regret to the guests as she ushered them to another room for conversation.

With Ming Shao’s mother and sister present—both married to men of high standing—no one dared voice any criticism about Mrs. Zhang’s obvious favoritism toward this baby granddaughter. Sweating under the unseasonably warm room, the guests chattered away as they moved to the new location.

Some even managed to switch their praises for little Liu Liang seven or eight times in just a few steps—from complimenting her delicate features to her strong constitution, then to the auspicious weight at birth, not to mention her fortuitous birthday. Though no one dared outright say she was "as blessed as the Empress," the remarks about her "auspicious timing" never ceased.

Listening nearby, Ming Tang struggled to reconcile the image of the brilliant, peerless child described by the crowd with the tiny, red-faced newborn she had just seen, who did little more than sleep. She could only console herself: These are all well-wishes. When Liu Liang grows up, she’ll surely become just as they say.

When she later retreated back to Ming Shao’s room and recounted the scene, she was met with teasing: "Did you think your own washing ceremony was any different?"

Ming Shao then gave Ming Tang a once-over and nodded approvingly. "Though, looking at you now, I suppose the auspicious words spoken back then weren’t wrong—my You Niang truly is elegant and unmatched."

Ming Tang, who had mentally catalogued countless embarrassing childhood moments of others, now felt her scalp prickle at the mention of her own forgotten past. She immediately surrendered: "I was wrong, I was wrong."

Compared to the usual back-and-forth, the intimidation of someone who "watched you grow up" was far more potent. Feeling the oppressive weight of her elder sister’s impeccable memory, Ming Tang abandoned any further sarcasm and shifted to more mundane topics.

Having not seen each other in so long, Ming Tang lingered until the afternoon before returning home. Upon entering Cheng Yi Hall, she found Xiao Ma still curled up in his nest. Hearing her approach, his ears twitched slightly, and he glanced at her before slowly turning away—the whole process sluggish and dripping with the same indifferent air he’d adopted lately.

Ming Tang burst out laughing. She stepped forward to stroke his glossy fur, recalling the earlier misunderstanding with Ming Shao, and couldn’t help muttering: Did her elder sister really see her as that reckless?

How could Ming Shao have interpreted her words as some roundabout suggestion to... well, have her brother-in-law neutered for contraception?

But this question would forever remain unanswered. With a sigh, Ming Tang dropped the matter. Ignoring Xiao Ma’s protests, she flipped him over to check his recovery. Finding him healing well, she gravely announced, "Congratulations, Eunuch Little Horse."

No more suffering from breeding instincts in the future.