Chapter 103

Chapter 103

As the carriage rumbled over the bluestone slabs, returning from the mountains to the capital, the shrill chirping of newly hatched cicadas in a nearby tree, amplified by the lingering evening heat, further frayed Wu Shi’s already raw nerves.

Servants swung open the gates, and the carriage glided smoothly into the courtyard. Wu Shi alighted, her brow twitching involuntarily as she glanced at the wet nurse cradling the child behind her.

After a moment’s thought, she bypassed her own chambers and headed instead for her mother-in-law, Madame Chen’s, courtyard.

Madame Chen was visibly taken aback by her daughter-in-law’s unexpected arrival. “What brings you here?” she blurted out, then, realizing her impropriety, quickly amended, “You’ve returned from your pilgrimage. What wisdom did the Bodhisattva impart?”

Wu Shi, preoccupied with other matters, lacked her usual biting wit. Lost in thought, she replied indifferently, “Whether the Bodhisattva’s blessings are true won’t be known for some time. How can one say for certain now?”

Noticing her mother-in-law’s gaze drifting towards her beloved eldest grandson, who was being held by the wet nurse behind her, Wu Shi suppressed a cold sneer. She motioned for the wet nurse to place the child beside Madame Chen. The older woman eagerly scooped him up, her adoration palpable. “They say raising a son brings another son. This little one has been nurtured by your side, and your health is robust. You needn’t worry. Sooner or later, you’ll have a clever, bright son of your own—one who’ll study as well as his father and, in a decade or two, bring you glory by passing the imperial exams with highest honors.”

Such comforting words were rare from Madame Chen. Unfortunately, Wu Shi was too distracted to offer the expected reaction, leaving her mother-in-law feeling as though her efforts were wasted. Had the temple visit gone poorly? Normally, her daughter-in-law—though more sharp-tongued than the first wife—loved being flattered. Why was she acting as though she hadn’t heard a word?

Wu Shi, however, was thinking of Ya Yun. According to Chen Wenyao, his affair with her had been brief—just two or three encounters. He’d never intended to keep her as an outside mistress, but when she became pregnant and he knew Ming Si would never allow her into the household, he had no choice but to house her elsewhere.

Logically, two or three years had passed since then. Why hadn’t Ya Yun shown any signs of pregnancy since? Wu Shi refused to believe she’d take measures to avoid conceiving.

Now living in the rear courtyard, so close by, Ya Yun still occasionally shared Chen Wenyao’s bed—whether after marital spats or when Wu Shi was unwell. Wu Shi knew this perfectly well but chose to pretend not to know, believing what she didn't see wouldn't trouble her.

The more she dwelled on it, the more suspicious she grew. Watching Madame Chen dote on the child, Wu Shi probed, “The boy’s grown so much. He doesn’t resemble Wenyao as much as he did when he was younger. Not as handsome.”

Madame Chen instinctively bristled. “Children can't be judged for looks—they haven’t grown into their features yet.” She studied the boy’s face. “His brows and eyes... don’t quite match Wenyao’s when he was little. If anything, he resembles that concubine of his.”

Her tone turned disappointed. “Wenyao was praised by all the neighbors as a child—said to be a celestial child. No one had ever seen such a beautiful boy. And he was brilliant too, excelling in his studies, becoming a *jinshi* degree-holder and government official before he was twenty. Even if this child isn’t as good-looking, if he studies half as well, that’ll be enough.”

Wu Shi had once enjoyed listening to Madame Chen reminisce about Chen Wenyao’s childhood, feeling a vicarious pride. Now, however, she couldn’t help but scoff inwardly. However handsome her husband might have been as a child, calling him an “immortal” was excessive. That Pei family boy—plenty in the capital had seen him, yet no one described him in such exaggerated terms, even though he was truly flawless in looks.

Forcing herself to endure her mother-in-law’s often-repeated stories, Wu Shi changed tack. “I heard this child wasn’t born full-term, yet he seems perfectly healthy now, never falling ill.”

As Wu Shi had hoped, Madame Chen’s expression turned nostalgic. “Though premature, he was healthy from birth—large and well-proportioned. They said his mother had a fall and went into labor early. I feared complications, but thanks to the Bodhisattva’s mercy, all went smoothly. Truly, our Chen family is blessed. After losing that ill-fated woman, we gained a grandson and you—a hundred times better than her. Soon, you’ll bear children of your own, Wenyao will rise in rank, and our fortunes will only improve.”

Wu Shi focused on the first part, torn between relief (“So it’s true”) and suspicion that Ming Si had known all along and deliberately misled her. When her mother-in-law began waxing poetic about the future again, Wu Shi grew impatient, convinced there was no point talking to her. Better to investigate on her own.

But the affair was three or four years past. Would any traces remain?

Resolved, she stood. “The trip to the mountains tired me out. I’ll rest now. The boy can stay with you tonight. I’ll have his things sent over.”

Madame Chen waved her off. “Go, go, rest early. No need to send his things—I have everything here.”

As Wu Shi left, Madame Chen mused: She never tired so easily before. Could she be pregnant without realizing it? And today, of all days, she went to Hongluo Temple—the very shrine of the Goddess of Childbirth.

Clasping her hands, Madame Chen prayed silently: Amitabha. If my daughter-in-law truly is with child, once it’s born, our whole family will return to give thanks.

Meanwhile, Wu Shi, back in her rooms, immediately summoned her personal maidservant from her dowry. After dismissing everyone else, she recounted her encounter with Ming Tang and her suspicions in a hushed voice. “You must help me find a way. I must know whether that boy is truly my husband’s. If he is, fine—I’m healthy; there’s no reason others can conceive when I can’t. But if he isn’t...”

If he wasn’t Chen Wenyao’s, she didn’t know what she’d do.

The maidservant, older and wiser, listened with a furrowed brow but remained calm. “Though it’s been years, traces remain. I’ll investigate quietly. Even if we find no proof, we can always have Ya Yun seized and interrogated. If she’s guilty, she’ll slip up.”

She studied Wu Shi. “But if the child is illegitimate, you mustn’t confront your husband first. Return home and consult your parents on how to proceed.”

Wu Shi nodded.

That evening, when Chen Wenyao returned, she greeted him as usual. But for some reason, his scholarly bearing, which she’d always adored, left her unmoved. While he changed clothes to visit Madame Chen, she composed herself, forcing her usual demeanor.

They chatted idly before retiring. The lamps cast bright light as Chen Wenyao leaned against the bed's edge, absorbed in a book.

Wu Shi had always loved this scholarly side of him—so unlike the elders and brothers she’d grown up with. Softly, she said, “You’re so diligent, working all day yet still studying at night.”

Chen Wenyao closed the book and set it aside, looking down at her admiring gaze. His heart softened, and so did his voice. “I’ve no choice. The Prince of Chu is observing affairs at the Ministry of Revenue now, and I was assigned there at his recommendation. Some have already noticed our connection. With His Highness drawing more attention, I must work harder—lest my shortcomings make people question his judgment.”

In truth, many had mocked him privately for offending his former father-in-law, now a Grand Councilor, over an illegitimate child. Chen Wenyao knew this. But life went on. During his three-year marriage to Ming Tang, he’d never felt special in her eyes. No matter what he did, she lived her own life, as if he were just a necessary part of her life.

Outwardly, she’d fulfilled all wifely duties perfectly. His colleagues often praised how well-maintained his robes were, proof of a virtuous wife. But the feeling that nothing he did could sway her—it had almost maddened him.

He’d once hoped a child would change things. Surely their shared child would alter her, even if only slightly. But Heaven willed otherwise: Ming Tang could never bear his child. When the physician delivered the news, he wasn’t sure whether his disappointment stemmed from delayed fatherhood or the realization that Ming Tang would never truly be bound to him.

That was why, in a moment of turmoil, he’d been with Ya Yun—and why their child existed.

He’d anticipated Ming Tang’s anger or grief. Instead, her reaction had taken him completely by surprise.

Now, with a new wife who clearly adored him and a successful career at the Ministry of Revenue, those who’d mocked him seemed insignificant now. His path was his own, and he had no regrets.

Lost in thought, he spoke more openly than usual with Wu Shi—about his work, his colleagues, the commendation for his capable service he’d earned.

Wu Shi knew some of this. Though unfamiliar with official affairs, a busy husband was preferable to an idle man. Hence, she’d never complained about his late returns or his absence during her temple visit.

But tonight, as Chen Wenyao spoke animatedly, Wu Shi found her mind wandering.

Luckily, he didn’t notice. When he finished, she murmured, “You’ve been working so hard lately.”

Chen Wenyao, noticing her distraction, assumed it stemmed from her temple visit. Setting the book aside, he drew her close and whispered, “Instead of begging the Bodhisattva for a child, why not beg me? If we’re diligent, a child will come.”

Afterward, Wu Shi rested a hand on her abdomen. Chen Wenyao covered it with his own, patting reassuringly. He liked this—her eagerness to bear his heir lightened the weight of his official burdens.

But Wu Shi wasn’t thinking what he assumed. After a long pause, she ventured, “Husband, if I remain childless for years...”

Chen Wenyao cut her off gently. “No matter what, you’ll always be my wife.”

Wu Shi pressed on. “Would you consult a physician with me?” Perhaps her fears were unfounded. Perhaps his studies had weakened his constitution, requiring tonics.

The implied accusation stung. Chen Wenyao nearly retorted that he’d already fathered a child but bit back the words, tightening his embrace instead. “Don’t fret. I’ll take whatever tonics you wish. But no physicians—what would people say if they knew?”

They slept that night as strangers in the same bed. The next morning, he left for court while she urgently dispatched her maidservant to investigate, offering silver to servants for information.

A small storm brewed, though its ripples would soon be lost in the larger tides sweeping the capital’s scholarly households. As summer deepened, the provincial exams drew near.

Held every three years, they represented hope for repeat examinees and aspiring young talents alike. For Ming Xia and Ming Zuo, however, they were merely a means to end their torment.

After learning of their anxiety, their grandfather—Minister Ming—had approved their aunt’s proposal for “Mock Exams.” Two replica examination cubicles were built at home, and they were to undergo the full three-day exam process twice a month.

Minister Ming, overseeing the Ministry of Rites, knew the exam conditions intimately. When Ming Xia and Ming Zuo saw the cubicles, they returned to their beds, savoring the comfort while they still could.

After their first Mock Exam, the brothers emerged feeling like they'd been skinned alive. Before they could recover, they were pulled back in for another session.

After the long nine days of torment had passed, Ming Xia was still shaken: "Thank goodness our family made us exercise a lot since childhood, so we're still in good health. Otherwise, we might have lost half our vitality during those nine days."

Ming Zuo felt the same, but being naturally lively, he quickly shifted his thoughts to how their grandfather, father, and uncles must have gone through similar experiences in their youth. He mused wistfully, "What a shame we couldn’t see how exhausted Father looked right after his exams."

Just then, Ming Tang, who had come to see the spectacle after hearing about their ordeal, caught his words: "Your father emerged from the exams as dignified as ever—far more composed than your half-alive state now. If you’d seen him, you might have died of shame."

Ming Zuo refused to believe it: "But Father usually refuses to take even two extra steps!" He had even secretly noticed his father’s growing paunch.

"That was after he passed the imperial exams and became an official," Ming Tang said with a laugh. "Before passing the imperial exams, Third Brother was diligent—his horsemanship was even better than Second Brother’s. It was only after becoming an official, marrying, and having children that he gradually became more sedate."

Ming Zuo had no choice but to accept this reality and continued lamenting loudly. Ming Xia, being more composed, secretly listened to the gossip about his uncle and thanked Ming Tang for her idea, which had given the brothers some preparation before the real exams.

Ming Tang waved her hand dismissively: "If you really want to thank me, act as properly miserable as A Zuo did—seeing you so unaffected ruins the fun for me."

No sooner had she spoken than Ming Zuo immediately straightened up, assuming his usual refined and dignified posture to impress others: "Aunt, I apologize for not greeting you properly today. Did A Ze come with you? I don’t see him. I heard he’s started his studies—what book is he reading now?"

Ming Tang, who had come to fetch them, chuckled: "A Ze is playing with Little Third. Eldest Aunt brought Xiao Liu Liang over today, and Mother’s place is bustling right now—you two are the only ones missing."

Mrs. Ming’s quarters were indeed lively. Pei Ze and Zhang Dun, close in age, were whispering about something, while Ming Shao sat across from Mrs. Ming, and Ming Wan sat on a small stool beside them, nervously watching Xiao Liu Liang on the floor. The oblivious toddler played with his fingers, occasionally crawling forward when coaxed by his nursemaid with toys, giggling brightly once he got hold of them.

When the two examinees arrived, the commotion grew even louder.

Ming Shao had grown plumper, perhaps due to motherhood, exuding a soothing maternal presence. Ming Tang squeezed next to her and couldn’t resist resting her head on her elder sister’s shoulder, nestling close as the three women chatted.

Since her two sons and their wives had left the capital for official posts, Mrs. Ming’s household had grown quieter, with only a few older grandchildren remaining—most preoccupied with studies or naturally reserved. The sudden liveliness now felt almost overwhelming, and she pressed her forehead.

Ming Tang noticed and pretended to take umbrage: "Mother, are we too noisy for you?"

Mrs. Ming wasn’t about to be cornered: "Indeed, you are. These days, your father has been so obsessed with preparing exam questions for these two that he’s kept me up at night. They haven’t even entered the examination halls yet, and I’m already exhausted."

Ming Shao hugged Ming Tang: "Youngest Daughter loved stirring up trouble as a child, never imagining Father would be the same now. They say ‘old age makes children of us all’—how true."

Mrs. Ming shook her head: "He’s just restless without something to manage. Fine, as long as he’s not bothering me, let them be."

The two "victims" could only smile wryly, unaware that Zhang Dun and Pei Ze had hatched another plan—

Zhang Dun’s family was large, with many scholars and officials, so he’d heard countless exam anecdotes. Pei Ze, ever imaginative, took one story about a fire during an exam and began worrying—what if the Ming cousins faced the same?

What if it rained heavily? Or snowed? (Though he later realized autumn exams wouldn’t have snow.)

In short—what if something unexpected happened? The boys grew increasingly anxious and decided to suggest adding emergency drills to the mock exams. When Minister Ming returned home, they stealthily proposed their idea, prompting him to exclaim, "How did I overlook this?!"

Soon, new "emergency drills" were added.

By July, when Ming Tang saw the brothers again, they seemed profoundly changed—their world-weary gazes, their spirits broken. The once-dreaded exams now seemed like a welcome reprieve. Minister Ming had promised to stop the mock exams two weeks before the real thing, letting them rest and recuperate.

Ming Zuo sighed weakly: "Aunt, I dare say we’re the two people in the capital most eager for the exams now." Pass or fail, they just wanted the torture to end.

Strangely, their determination had grown. The thought of enduring this again in three years if they failed made them shudder—and study harder.

At last, the exams arrived. The brothers queued up with remarkable composure, their practiced ease during the body search making them seem like veteran examinees. Observers marveled at their composure, wondering which family had raised such unflappable youths.

After each session, they became the talk of the exam halls—a pair of exceptionally composed figures. Families with examinees took special notice, envying their poise.

On results day, Ming Tang accompanied Mrs. Ming to await news and learned of the gossip: "People stopped their carriage to ask which family they belonged to—proposing marriage alliances if they were unattached."

Ming Tang laughed: "Usually, grooms are snatched after the results, not right after exams. How discerning!"

Mrs. Ming remarked dryly: "They’re not fools. At their age, well-attired and handsome—even if they failed, a match would be no disgrace."

Privately, Mrs. Ming believed no family in the capital surpassed hers. Her children—steady eldest daughter, brilliant sons, vivacious yet astute youngest—were all thriving.

And the third generation? Equally outstanding, with two attempting the exams so young. Pass or not, they cut striking figures.

Yet, when the messenger finally arrived, shouting, "Both young masters are on the list!" even she finally relaxed, regaining her usual composure.

Ming Tang teased: "Father should’ve simulated practice rankings for you too—to prepare you for the suspense."

Mrs. Ming scolded half-heartedly: "Must you always jest about your parents? Enough."

Ming Tang clasped her hands: "As you wish, Grandmother of Provincial Graduates."

As firecrackers crackled, Mrs. Ming’s lips twitched—her mock severity utterly unconvincing. Ming Tang grinned. If only Mother could see herself now.