Chapter 106

Chapter 106

Perhaps because they had set out early, by the time they reached the Ten-League Pavilion, the sun had just fully risen above the horizon, and the morning glow had not yet completely faded.

In a nearby pavilion, minor officials in teal-colored robes were resting. Hearing the sound of hooves, one of them looked up. Ming Tang was riding Zhao Ye, a snow-white horse of exceptional grace and beauty, unmistakably a rare steed. Beside her, Pei Ze rode a young colt, also of remarkable pedigree, prompting the observer to stare a while longer.

After a long moment, unable to place the unfamiliar faces, the official assumed they were merely spectators who had come to witness the return of the Heir to the Duke of Dingguo and lost interest, lowering his head again.

Ming Tang and Pei Ze stopped at a moderate distance from the group. Pei Ze craned his neck excitedly and asked, "Is Uncle almost here?"

Knowing that Pei Yue's return was an official state affair with designated officials to receive him, and recognizing the robes as official attire, he couldn’t help but speculate.

Ming Tang nodded subtly. "Your grandfather sent word yesterday about the timing. He should be arriving soon."

To ensure they could greet Pei Yue at the right moment, the Ministry of Rites had dispatched envoys to meet him partway from Shaanxi. After confirming the schedule, messengers had been sent back to the capital. Otherwise, it would have been undignified—either the court officials waiting in vain at the city gates or Pei Yue arriving before the welcoming party was ready.

The willow branches by the roadside swayed lushly in the breeze, brushing against Zhao Ye’s flank and making her flick her tail.

Pei Ze, riding beside Ming Tang, was promptly swatted on the calf by the horse’s tail. He grabbed a handful of tail hairs, feigning annoyance, "Bad Zhao Ye! I’ll cut your tail short later."

Ming Tang glanced back, understood what had happened, and burst into laughter. "Just as well I refused to let you braid the horses’ tails the other day. Otherwise, that swat would’ve hurt much more."

Pei Ze remembered and released Zhao Ye’s tail, petting her neck reassuringly with a look of relief. "Good Zhao Ye, wait till I’m farther away before flicking your tail again." Unaware, Zhao Ye happily pawed the ground, her tail swishing once more.

Deciding it was better safe than sorry, Pei Ze gently tugged his reins, guiding his young colt away from her mother and halting beneath another willow tree, keeping his distance from Ming Tang.

Another breeze stirred, and Zhao Ye’s ears twitched. Ming Tang seemed to sense something too, turning her gaze westward.

The rhythmic sound of hooves grew louder, and soon a group of riders emerged on the horizon, kicking up clouds of dust as they advanced eastward. At their head was a figure in polished silver armor, glinting in the strengthening sunlight so brilliantly that it captivated all who saw it.

Ming Tang’s mind went blank. She stared unwaveringly at the leader, unwilling to spare a glance for anyone else, and thus missed the questioning glances from the officials in the pavilion.

As the distance closed, Pei Yue’s figure became clearer. His face, honed by the trials of war, appeared even more ruggedly handsome, imprinting itself on the retinas of all who awaited him. The commanding presence he carried seemed to crash over them like a tidal wave, momentarily stunning even the seasoned officials who had stepped out to greet him.

Having anticipated the reception, Pei Yue was prepared. As they neared, he slowed his pace, and his retinue followed suit in perfect unison, drawing to an exact stop at the pavilion.

Just as he was about to dismount, his gaze was irresistibly drawn to the small group nearby. Before he could even clearly see Ming Tang’s face, a smile had already lit his eyes. When he focused, he noticed she was wearing an outfit he had made in his teens—now styled as men’s attire. Her disguise was flawless, her demeanor unreadable; at a glance, she looked every bit the refined, handsome young gentleman.

The clothes, perhaps faded with age and slightly ill-fitting, should have appeared shabby. Yet on her, they exuded an air of understated grace, as if she had tenderly touched the memories of his past. His heart stirred, his gaze burning more fiercely.

Pei Ze, beside Ming Tang, waved cheerfully, while Ming Tang and Pei Yue exchanged a long look in silent communion. Time seemed to stretch infinitely in that peaceful interlude—until the lead official, growing puzzled again, cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Greetings, Commander-in-Chief Pei."

He thought to himself, *I’ve never heard of the Heir to the Duke of Dingguo having particularly close friends. Whoever could make him forget decorum in front of us must be someone extraordinarily dear to him.*

Pei Yue returned to the present, dismounting with a clatter of armor. His retinue followed suit, their disciplined movements and solemn bearing making the capital’s court-bred civil officials draw back somewhat.

Noticing this, Pei Yue gestured subtly without turning, and the soldiers’ imposing aura instantly softened.

Relieved, the welcoming party launched into the formalities, delivering flowery praises for Pei Yue’s triumphant return and confirming that the Third Prince, their captive, was in good enough condition to survive until the official presentation at the palace's Meridian Gate.

The Third Prince, true to his reputation as a Tatar general, seemed unaffected by the rough journey in a prison cart. His tangled locks failed to conceal the sharp glint in his eyes. When an unfamiliar official approached, he snorted, stretched lazily, then leaned back and closed his eyes, ignoring them entirely—much to the official’s indignation.

As the officials engaged Pei Yue in conversation, Ming Tang watched from afar, a smile playing on her lips. She turned to Pei Ze and waved. "Come, A Ze. Time to go home."

Pei Ze hesitated, disappointed that Pei Yue was too occupied to speak with them, but obediently nodded. They mounted and trotted back along a quieter path, avoiding the crowds gathering to witness Pei Yue’s procession into the capital.

Their departure didn’t go unnoticed. The official who had suspected a deep connection between Pei Yue and the onlookers now dismissed the idea. *If they were close, they wouldn’t leave so soon. Must’ve just been spectators. That earlier exchange must’ve been my imagination.*

But Pei Yue knew Ming Tang had only wanted a glimpse of him—and having gotten it, she had no need to linger. Imagining her and Pei Ze recounting the encounter to his mother, he grew impatient to return home himself.

Lost in thought, he frowned unconsciously.

The official mid-speech faltered, hastily adding, "No need to memorize the procedures, Commander-in-Chief. The ritual masters will guide you through everything. This afternoon, someone will take you to rehearse at the ceremony site."

Pei Yue nodded, his expression easing, but no one dared say more. The group proceeded in silence through the city gates, past the curious onlookers, and past the flurry of scented pouches tossed at Pei Yue—all of which he effortlessly avoided without missing a step.

Unaware of the awe he inspired—his armored figure astride his horse, his retinue’s synchronized steps—he merely felt distracted, longing to shed formalities and return home.

Meanwhile, as he had guessed, Ming Tang was indeed with Mrs. Pei—after enduring her mother-in-law’s scrutinizing gaze for a long moment.

For some reason, Ming Tang sensed a hint of disappointment in the older woman’s demeanor.

But Mrs. Pei’s emotions were rarely obvious, and Ming Tang let it pass, smiling as she reported, "A-Yue looks well—energetic and moving freely. But he’ll likely be tied up with the Ministry of Rites for a while. Who knows when he’ll be home?"

"Now that he’s in the capital, there’s no rush. His Majesty won’t keep him overnight. At the latest, he’ll return before curfew." Reassured that Pei Yue was unharmed, Mrs. Pei relaxed.

Later, after subtly ushering Ming Tang away, she quietly asked Pei Ze, "Did your aunt and uncle cry when they saw each other?"

Pei Ze thought hard, then shook his head. "No."

Far from it—he still didn’t understand why they’d left without even speaking to Uncle. He’d saved up so much to say! Didn’t Aunt have anything?

Still, the reunion lifted his spirits. And the rare freedom of riding all day had him reliving the experience the moment he dismounted at home.

*When will I be old enough to come and go as I please?*

Handing over the prisoner, an audience with the Emperor, rehearsals at the Ministry of Rites... By evening, Pei Yue finally arrived home as the sun set.

The family had gathered in Mrs. Pei’s *Jinghua Hall*. At the announcement of his return, even Mrs. Pei rose in agitation. Pei Yue entered and knelt before she could approach, contrite. "Mother, I didn’t mean to conceal the truth in my letters. I feared you’d worry needlessly in the capital, harming your health."

Seeing him whole, Mrs. Pei couldn’t bring herself to resent the deception. Blinking rapidly, she helped him up, cupping his face to study it. Before she could speak, her eyes reddened. "You’re safe. That’s all that matters."

Having endured the previous heartbreak, "safe" was all she asked of him now.

Collecting herself, she turned away briefly, then shooed them off. "You’ve traveled for days without proper rest or washing. Didn’t the Ministry even give you a change of clothes? Go refresh yourselves and relax. We’ll talk properly at dinner."

Pei Yue agreed, and the couple left hand in hand for *Chengyi Hall*.

After more than half a year away, the hall was much the same. Pei Yue felt no trepidation, striding straight into the inner chamber to remove his armor.

When Ming Tang reached to help, he stopped her. "It’s too heavy. If you’d like to examine it, I’ll leave it here for you later."

She nodded, watching as he piece by piece laid the worn armor on the couch.

The bathing chamber was soon prepared. At the maids’ prompt, Pei Yue went in, while Ming Tang lingered, studying the combat-worn plates.

The light was fading but not yet dark enough for lamps, rendering the once-gleaming metal solemn and weighty. She traced a finger over a dent, chilled by the touch, imagining Pei Yue fighting in this very armor. Were these marks from the battlefield?

Lost in thought, she was startled by Pei Yue’s low call from the bathing chamber. "You Niang? Could you come here?"

Entering, she found the room, with its narrow windows, too dim to see. He’d summoned her to light the lamps. Fetching a flint, she ignited the candles, watching as golden light filled the chamber, casting lengthening shadows across the floor.

Pei Yue sat in the bathtub, his bare upper body largely exposed, the contours of his muscles from shoulders downward grew even more defined. Ming Tang’s casual glance halted abruptly. Before he could react, she was already standing behind him, her fingers brushed his shoulder blade—there was a deep brown scar there, a scar absent before his departure from the capital.

The scar stretched diagonally from his shoulder blade down toward his spine, likely longer than the span of a hand. The wound must have been gruesome when fresh. And if the force had been just a bit stronger, what if it had struck his spine… The mere idea made her shudder, and before she could speak, tears were already falling.

First, her delicate fingers traced the scar, and moments later, he felt warm droplets hit his back, then trickling down. No need to guess, he knew Ming Tang was crying. His heart ached with helpless tenderness. He turned around, lowering his voice deliberately: "*You Niang*, don’t cry. I’m fine, see?"

Seeing Ming Tang still stubbornly staring at him, he had no choice but to explain: "It looks worse than it is. At the time, someone tried to slash me from behind with a sword, but before it could land, I blocked it with my spear, deflecting the blow. I wasn’t wearing full armor that day, so it left a mark on me. The scar’s long but shallow. Medicine and bandages healed it fast."

She wasn’t convinced. She knew he always downplayed things. His words sounded harmless, but the fact that he "wasn’t wearing full armor" revealed just how unexpected the situation must have been.

A hasty battle—was it really that easy?

She grew more skeptical, and she lifted both of Pei Yue’s arms, examining every inch of him to ensure there were no other hidden wounds.

He’d already been distracted, and now, under her intense gaze, with her hands occasionally brushing against him, he felt utterly helpless: Even a saint would struggle. He couldn’t be blamed for what came next.

That settled it for him. Then, in a single motion, he wrapped his arms around Ming Tang and leaned back, yanking her into the water with him. Her clothes clung tightly to her body. Before she could protest, his lips silenced her as he pressed against her.

Perhaps it really was because of their long separation, but Ming Tang felt Pei Yue was more urgent, more domineering than she recalled, stealing her breath relentlessly, only allowing her the briefest moments to gasp for air before chasing her lips again.

Pinned between the tub’s smooth sides and Pei Yue’s unyielding presence, she grew dizzy, intoxicated, unable to resist responding in kind.

Her drenched clothes were tossed aside carelessly at some point, and though she was soaked through, she couldn’t take a single step out of the tub, trapped in his embrace as she moved with his rhythm.

Candles flickered, and the water gradually cooled. Pei Yue stood, scooping her up, and carried her back to the inner chamber, laying her on the bed before turning to fetch the candle and light the ones in the room.

Weak-limbed, she pulled the blanket around herself and watched as Pei Yue remained unclothed, her head spinning—yet she still took the opportunity to glance a few more times, confirming there were no other obvious scars before sighing quietly in relief.

"Happy now?" Pei Yue drank a cup of water, then clambered onto the bed, pulling her close. He kissed her forehead, his fingers tracing her spine, and immediately his breath hitched again.

She noticed, bolting upright. "Enough mischief. Mother’s waiting for dinner."

She grumbled: "Honestly, even if you were impatient, you shouldn’t have dragged me into the water. Now my hair’s wet, and everyone will know exactly what we’ve been up to." Remembering the state of the bathing chamber—soon to be cleaned by the maids—she felt another wave of guilt. They’d truly gone too far this time.

Pei Yue sighed and released her, flopping onto the bed in exaggerated disappointment.

He hadn’t even said anything, but Ming Tang, recalling how they’d never been apart this long since their marriage and that Pei Yue had just returned from the battlefield, knew he was putting on an act—yet she still softened. Stroking his damp hair, she whispered, "Not now. After we return from Mother’s, alright?"

Pei Yue sat up at once, all traces of his earlier pouting gone. Leaning close to Ming Tang’s ear, he murmured something that immediately brought a flush to her cheeks. She shot him an indignant look, but before she could refuse, Pei Yue sealed her lips with his own. As his hands grew bolder, one already slipping beneath the blanket as if threatening to continue unless she agreed, Ming Tang had no choice but to relent.

She wanted to speak but couldn’t; wanted to nod, but his hand cradled the back of her head, leaving her no room to move. In the end, she had to smack his arm before finally breaking free.

The moment Ming Tang agreed, Pei Yue rolled out of bed, the very picture of knowing when to quit while ahead.

By the time they had dried their hair, changed clothes, and returned to Jinghua Hall hand in hand, night had fully fallen.

Pei Ze, who had been waiting impatiently, rushed forward the moment they arrived, wedging himself firmly between them. Grasping Pei Yue’s hand in one of his and Ming Tang’s in the other, he marched ahead, chiding: "Uncle, you’re too slow! How long does it take to change clothes? If I were like you, I’d be late every day and get caned by Mr. Lu!"

The soft warmth in his hand had been replaced by a small boy’s grip, and this boy was now boldly lecturing him. Pei Yue stared at the back of Pei Ze’s head for a moment before catching Ming Tang’s reassuring glance. Smiling wryly, he allowed himself to be led along, retorting: "How do you know about being caned for lateness? Have you experienced it yourself and learned your lesson?"

Pei Ze faltered, quickly defending himself: "It was just a little late! All because of that bad—er, good cat, Xiao Ma."

If not for running into Xiao Ma on his way to class—the cat had just returned from another direction and insisted on placing a dead mouse right in front of him—Pei Ze wouldn’t have been delayed for a full quarter of an hour.

He’d barely made it in time, thinking he could slip by unnoticed, but Mr. Lu was no fool. Sensing Pei Ze’s growing wildness, he’d listened to the excuse but still delivered a few light strikes to the boy’s palm, admonishing him never to neglect his duties unless faced with unavoidable obstacles.

A mere cat—if Pei Ze had truly wanted to shake it off and hurry to class, there were plenty of ways. He’d simply been unwilling to miss out on the unexpected diversion.

His left hand stung for days, though his right remained unharmed, allowing him to continue his studies unimpeded. Pei Ze suffered through the punishment, but when he thought of blaming Xiao Ma, the sight of the cat’s glossy, well-fed appearance reminded him that, for a feline, offering its own prey was a gesture of affection. His anger faded.

He hadn’t protested outright, and afterward, he’d even secretly ordered extra treats for Xiao Ma. Encouraged, the cat seemed to take this as permission, frequently staging "surprise attacks"—though unlike the first time, it no longer blocked his path. Instead, it would sneak over at night, carefully arranging its offerings at his doorstep, tail held straight with pride.

Knowing how much Pei Ze adored the cat, and recognizing this as the animal’s way of reciprocating affection, the maids dared not interfere. They deliberately avoided cleaning the area in the mornings, leaving Pei Ze to discover whether his doorstep held a "surprise" depending entirely on whether Xiao Ma had felt like prowling near the storerooms the night before.

Pei Ze trudged ahead in silence as Ming Tang recounted the story to Pei Yue, unable to suppress her laughter. Watching Pei Ze step through the doorway ahead of them, she paused briefly and whispered: "A Ze doesn’t know this, but after Mr. Lu caned him, the teacher agonized for days, afraid Mother and I would blame him. He even came to explain to Mother personally, only relaxing after she assured him she held no grudge."

"Why would he worry so much?"

"Probably because of past experiences with overbearing parents or elders interfering." Ming Tang hadn’t pressed for details, but she remembered the conflicted expression on Juren Lu’s face vividly.

Likely, it was only because Pei Ze had always been well-behaved that such a clash between teacher and family hadn’t arisen until now.

As they spoke, the two stepped across the threshold into the main hall.

The room was brightly lit. Pei Ze stood beside Mrs. Pei, sticking his tongue out at Pei Yue in mock reproach. Mrs. Pei, however, seemed entirely unsurprised, making no mention of their long delay. Once they were seated, she instructed the maids to serve the meal, pointedly ignoring their still-damp hair. After all, the summer heat hadn’t yet faded, and the evening breeze wasn’t strong enough to cause illness. Whatever this young couple had been up to was their own business.

Now, truly reunited, the time for proper conversation had arrived. The group chatted and laughed, sharing stories from the past half-year, even breaking out osmanthus wine brewed two autumns prior. It wasn’t until the moon hung high overhead and Pei Ze, slumped at the table, was on the verge of sleep that they finally dispersed.

No sooner had they passed through Jinghua Hall’s gate, the creak of the closing door echoing behind them, than Pei Yue took Ming Tang’s hand and quickened his pace.

The early autumn night was still alive with cicadas, their distant chirps masking the sound of their hurried footsteps.

The inner chamber had been tidied by the maids—someone, whether by design or whim, had even replaced the bedding with a set of vibrant red, the warm candlelight casting an illusion of their wedding night.

Ming Tang gritted her teeth. "It must be Wen He’s doing. Who knows how long she spent digging these out?" Normally, no one used red bedding—it had long been stored away. She had to admire the maid’s efficiency in unearthing it so quickly.

Pei Yue, however, was thoroughly pleased. Wrapping his arms around Ming Tang from behind, he rested his chin on her shoulder and surveyed the room approvingly. "Your attendants are truly perceptive."

Then, whispering his earlier request into her ear again, he released her only when she stiffened. Having already agreed, Ming Tang wasn’t about to back out. Comforting herself that this was no different from the so-called "boyfriend shirt" trend—just a bit of playful intimacy—she slowly approached the clothing rack, selected an outfit, and stepped behind the painted screen to change.

Pei Yue’s gaze followed her until she disappeared behind the landscape divider, then he rose and extinguished the excess candles. The room dimmed, the screen now casting a sharper silhouette.

Moments later, Ming Tang emerged wearing Pei Yue’s daytime attire. With her hair unbound and cascading freely, the effect was striking.

She exaggerated her strides, the fabric billowing as she approached. Pei Yue’s heated gaze never left her, and when she was within reach, he caught her wrist, his hand sliding upward.

A slight tug sent Ming Tang stumbling forward, his palm now at her elbow. He grinned. "I remember this outfit—Mother had the tailors make an entire season’s worth of these wide-sleeved robes just to mess with me."

Ming Tang landed in his lap, tilting her head up expectantly—only to feel Pei Yue’s hands growing bolder beneath her sleeves. She tried to protest, but in the next instant, the world spun, and she was pinned beneath him.

Their bodies pressed close, sleeves overlapping so tightly that no one could guess the intimacy hidden beneath.

As Pei Yue’s fingers wandered, Ming Tang’s breathing grew ragged. She grabbed his wrist, scolding: "If you’re going to talk, then talk properly."

He stilled, but in their current position, leisurely continued: "I knew Mother didn’t actually think these looked good on me. She just hated seeing me constantly sparring in practical clothes and wanted to curb my fighting."

Forced into these robes, he had no choice but to wear them—if only to pacify her.

Though he didn’t escalate further, the heat of his palm against her skin was impossible to ignore. Ming Tang slowly extracted his hand, intertwining their fingers to placate him, then gestured for him to continue with her eyes.

Pei Yue obliged, and Ming Tang relaxed, settling comfortably against his chest as she waited for his story.

"That day, I put this on and played the refined scholar for Mother. She was so pleased that when the temple fair came around, she sent me to fetch something for her." In truth, Mrs. Pei had no real need for anything—she simply wanted to show off her handsome son in his new finery.

At that age, he was hardly at risk of being kidnapped.

"Mother’s orders couldn’t be ignored, so I took some attendants and went. Thankfully, the robes were just loose enough to still ride in—I wasn’t completely immobilized. Once there, I dismounted to look around. And perhaps because of these clothes, I encountered something entirely unexpected."

Ming Tang, now engrossed, guessed: "Did someone mistake you for a scholar and invite you to a poetry gathering?"

After her two elder nephews became provincial graduates, their schedules became overwhelmingly busy, with invitations pouring in almost daily. It was said they were even compiling some poetry collection as a memento for their circle.

Had their father not hurriedly sent them out of the capital, who knows how many more melodramatic verses they might have left behind—poems they would surely regret reading in the future.

Pei Yue withdrew his arm, propped himself up, and partially pinned Ming Tang beneath him, his voice brimming with amusement. "Not quite, but close enough." He then leaned down to press a light kiss on her lips, silently positioning himself in the optimal stance to restrain her at any moment, and without further teasing, continued, "Someone mistook me for a child sneaking out to see the festivities. Seeing me dressed like a scholar, they whispered mysteriously that they had 'good books' to show me. When I followed, it turned out to be a vendor selling erotic albums."

Instinctively, Ming Tang sensed something unusual about Pei Yue’s demeanor—more eager than usual—but as she studied his nostalgic expression, she chalked it up to her imagination.

Pei Yue was indeed reminiscing, finding it almost unbelievable how curious yet awkward he had been back then. "I was still young and had never seen such things before. When approached, I just bought one without much thought." In truth, he had been too embarrassed to browse properly, hastily picking one, paying, and leaving.

His palm slid down to Ming Tang’s forearm, the roughness of his calloused skin grazing lightly, sending a shiver through her. He went on, "That day, wearing this very outfit, I smuggled that album—something Mother must never find out about—back to this very room and... touched myself for the first time. Thankfully, the clothes stayed clean, so no one noticed anything amiss."

So that was why Pei Yue had been so insistent on her wearing it again. Ming Tang suddenly understood, and with that realization came the reason for his unusual urgency. She had assumed it was simply because they’d been apart for so long, that he’d been pent up... Wait, those two reasons weren’t mutually exclusive. And she had foolishly agreed!

Pei Yue’s eagerness had indeed stemmed from this memory—so much that earlier, he hadn’t even waited until after their bath, pulling Ming Tang into recklessness first. When he first saw the outfit that morning, it had merely seemed familiar, but the more he recalled, the clearer the memories became—even some of the poses from that album resurfaced in his mind.

Seeing his beloved wife lying on crimson silk in the very garment that had witnessed his youthful folly, Pei Yue felt his longing for her during their separation fully satisfied—and with an added, strange thrill.

That he had managed to patiently recount the past, just to give Ming Tang some forewarning, was a feat of self-control he could pride himself on.

Noticing her dazed expression and the way her eyes darted around, Pei Yue knew she had caught on and couldn’t help but smile at her adorable mix of apprehension and reluctant anticipation.

Before she could bargain, he leaned down, covering every inch of her body.

The moon dipped westward, yet the candlelit scene showed no signs of quieting. Pei Yue was drenched in sweat, Ming Tang nearly as soaked, her slender waist drawing his touch like a magnet, unwilling to let go for even a moment.

At some point, half the bed curtains had shaken loose, obscuring the view, leaving only glimpses of Ming Tang’s flushed face, glistening with sweat, and her dark hair spilling like ink.

The outfit had long been stripped away by Pei Yue—now crumpled, damp, and faintly torn, beyond any hope of being worn again. Even so, as it hung half off the bed, its edge brushing the floor, it still earned occasional despairing glances from Ming Tang.

Of all outfits, why this one?!

But such thoughts were fleeting. Soon, she was swept into another whirlwind, the curtains hiding all but cries and gasps.

The next morning, when Ming Tang awoke, Pei Yue had already risen and left. Not seeing him, she exhaled in sheer relief. Last night—no, early this morning—she didn’t even remember passing out. Pei Yue, who must have slept even later, had still managed to rise early. She couldn’t help but resent the unfairness of it all.

Taking advantage of Mrs. Pei’s leniency regarding morning greetings, Ming Tang lazed in bed until noon, even having lunch there, before feeling somewhat recovered. After idling in her room a while longer, she finally dressed and headed to Jinghua Hall.

True to form, Mrs. Pei showed no displeasure at her absence that morning. When Ming Tang arrived, she nudged a plate forward. "The season’s first autumn pears from the estate arrived today. I found them quite refreshing. Try one—it’ll soothe your throat."

Ming Tang had just taken a bite when the words made her cough abruptly. Seeing Mrs. Pei’s neutral expression, she realized she’d overthought things. Faced with such genuine concern, she couldn’t very well say, "I don’t have a cold—my throat is just strained from last night, and I thought you were teasing me." Instead, she murmured, "I just choked a little. It’s nothing serious."

Choking on a pear might make her look silly, but it was certainly better than mistakenly assuming her mother-in-law was mocking their nighttime activities, right? As she ate the pear, Ming Tang pushed aside her wandering thoughts, afraid of reading too much into things again.