Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Given their family ranks and ages, it was only proper for Shu Yan to address Pei Heng as "Uncle."

Though she harbored resentment towards him, now that she was in his hands, she had no choice but to play meek and try to butter him up.

Thinking he was deliberately making things difficult for her, she added, "Even closer than a blood uncle!"

She didn’t know what was wrong with those words, but the room went oddly quiet.

Seeing him silent, Shu Yan saw her chance to slip away, but the moment her feet touched the floor, her head swam, and she staggered unsteadily.

He steadied her by the shoulders and said, "You’ve just woken up—don’t get out of bed. I’ll summon the imperial physician at once!"

"Don’t call the imperial physician!" Shu Yan wouldn't meet his eyes. "How about... Uncle leaves first, and we act like last night never happened, alright?"

She thought she was being perfectly reasonable, but upon hearing her words, he pressed his lips together and remained silent, his gaze growing increasingly inscrutable.

What did he mean by that?

Could it be that he was unwilling?

Or did he have other ideas about her?

Shu Yan couldn’t help but feel a mix of embarrassment and irritation. Just as she was about to demand what it would take for him to leave, a voice suddenly burst out excitedly in the room.

"Mistress is finally awake!"

Shu Yan turned toward the sound and saw two maidservants, one in purple and the other in green, standing by the beaded curtain.

Her personal attendants since childhood—Dan Yan and Qing Yun.

Yet overnight, they seemed to have aged two or three years.

What in the world was going on?

As Shu Yan stood frozen, Pei Heng suddenly asked, "Do you remember your full name?"

She bit her lip and grumbled, "Shen Liu."

She was the sixth child in her family, and when her father and brothers were angry, they called her "Little Shen Liu."

She wasn't about to tell him her given name.

"What is the date today?"

"The third day of the twelfth month in the tenth year of Qingli."

He then raised his middle finger and waved it in front of her. "How many is this?"

Was he treating her like a fool?

Shu Yan felt he was deliberately humiliating her and, in a fit of anger, snapped, "Five."

Pei Heng coldly ordered, "Get Director Qin here now!"

"One! One! One!"

Shu Yan grabbed his finger and stared at him with wide, imploring eyes. "I was just teasing you, Uncle. I—I’m just fine. There’s no need for a physician."

He said gently to reassure her. "Don’t be afraid. The imperial physician lives next door and will arrive shortly."

How could she not be afraid when it concerned her reputation?

If her father found out, he’d have her hide!

Besides, it wasn't as if *he* was the one at a disadvantage here—why insist on summoning the imperial physician?

Seeing how unyielding he was, Shu Yan, in her desperation, spoke without thinking, "It was just a one-night stand. I don’t even mind, so why must you make it known to everyone? Or do you expect *me* to take responsibility?"

The moment the words left her mouth, the atmosphere in the room turned peculiar.

Shu Yan, noticing the dark look in his eyes as he stared at her, lowered her head fearfully and mumbled, "I already have someone I like... and I don’t care for older men..."

Though spoken softly, everyone in the room heard her clearly.

Dan Yan and Qing Yun paled instantly—what was wrong with their mistress? How could she say such things in front of her own husband!

The two braced themselves for his anger, but to their surprise, he merely said calmly, "Take good care of your mistress. If anything goes wrong again, you won't be staying in this household." Though his tone was mild, the authority behind it was undeniable.

Dan Yan and Qing Yun hastily bowed and replied, "Yes."

The moment Pei Heng stepped out, Qing Yun flung herself at her mistress’s arms, weeping openly. "You’re finally awake, Mistress!"

"I was just drunk," Shu Yan patted her back, puzzled. "Why are you so upset? And how have you and Dan Yan grown so much older?"

"Drunk?" Qing Yun sniffled. "Mistress took a fall the day before yesterday and has been unconscious for two days! Director Qin said if you didn’t wake up soon, you might never come to!"

"I don’t remember any of that," Shu Yan said, confused. "Then why was Pei Jiulang by my bedside? Wasn’t he in the capital?"

Dan Yan hesitated. "Mistress... do you mean your husband?"

"My *husband*?" Shu Yan’s eyes widened. "Whose husband?"

"Don’t scare me like this, Mistress!" Qing Yun’s voice trembled. "You married him three years ago—have you forgotten?"

"Impossible!" Shu Yan shot back. "Absolutely impossible!"

She remembered it all clearly—because Seventh Brother was returning to the capital in two days, she had slipped out the evening before to host a farewell banquet for him.

At that little Western tavern run by foreigners.

Perhaps it was the impending separation, but she had been feeling particularly emotional and accidentally drank too much, leaving her lightheaded.

In the end, it was Seventh Brother himself who saw her home.

The snow outside was heavy, and fearing she’d catch cold, he had insisted on wrapping his crimson fox fur around her, leaving himself in nothing but a robe embroidered with clouds.

Since it would be a long time before they met again, Seventh Brother couldn't bear to leave, circling the general’s residence with her over and over, talking more than he ever did.

She even remembered Dan Yan and Qing Yun whispering behind them, discussing which shop in the city made the best rouge.

The glowing embers, the warm wine, the swirling skirts of the dancers, the falling snow, the warm fur wrapped around her, the young man’s bright dark eyes, and the clean, snowy scent clinging to him...

The events of that night were still clear as yesterday—how could four years have disappeared overnight?

After hearing her recount, Dan Yan said haltingly, "Mistress... what you’re describing happened four years ago."

It was shortly after that night that the general persuaded her to return to the capital on family business.

From then on, the young lady's carefree days were over.

Shu Yan refused to believe it: "Father must have found out I sneaked out again and teamed up with others to frighten me! Where is he? I want to see him!"

Her father would do anything, no matter how ridiculous.

Qing Yun's eyes brimmed with tears. "The master—"

"The master has gone to the military camp!" Dan Yan cut her off. "If the young lady is tired, she should rest for a while." As she spoke, she gave Qing Yun a pointed look.

Qing Yun opened her mouth but turned away to rub her eyes.

Shu Yan took it as the truth, though a dull ache pulsed at her left temple, making sleep impossible. Her thoughts were in turmoil, as if she had forgotten something important—yet not entirely so.

Just then, footsteps sounded outside.

Shu Yan turned her head and saw Pei Heng reappear in the room.

The jade-like man wore a pearl-trimmed hat and a sandalwood-colored cross-collared robe, a jade belt cinched at his waist. His bearing was as majestic as the snow-capped Kunlun Mountains, solemn and radiant, aloof yet stunning.

Compared to the cultivated grace of three years ago, his brows now carried an air of deeper maturity and steadiness.

If what they said was true—that she was now eighteen—then he must be twenty-eight.

Yet he looked no older than twenty-four or twenty-five. Had he taken some elixir of eternal youth?

This was clearly another trick!

Men from the capital were full of schemes, their minds full of schemes like a beehive's honeycomb—utterly detestable!

Shu Yan snorted and turned her face away, only to freeze.

Not far away stood a floor-length mirror, its blurred reflection showing the same scene.

A woman with loose black hair sat on an ornate canopy bed.

She appeared to be seventeen or eighteen, her forehead wrapped in a bandage of snowy white, her face ghostly pale save for a single vermilion tear-shaped mole beneath her eye.

She was extraordinarily beautiful, as if she'd stepped out of a painting—especially her eyes, dark and bright like two almonds.

Yet she was also alarmingly thin, her chin sharp, her collarbones standing out sharply.

In the mirror, a man in a pearl-trimmed hat and sandalwood-colored robe stood with his back to the glass.

Shu Yan reached up to touch her cheek, and the gaunt woman in the mirror mirrored the movement.

Who was she?

This wasn’t her!

Something flickered through her mind like a fleeting shadow.

In an instant, a splitting headache overwhelmed her, and tears streamed down her face.

"How… how did I become like this?"

The frantic woman covered her face. "Why… why can’t I stop crying? I… I don’t feel like myself anymore?" Her words dissolved into gut-wrenching sobs.

This sudden, inexplicable grief did not belong to her.

Even waking up four years older was nothing more than an odd turn in her otherwise mundane life.

Fourteen-year-old Shen Shuyan possessed the best things in the world.

Wealth, status, abundant love!

Yet these cursed tears refused to obey her, flowing uncontrollably as if determined to drown her.

Pei Heng hadn’t expected his until-now cheerful young wife to suddenly collapse into tears. He strode forward and pulled her tightly into his arms, coldly ordering, "Summon Director Qin at once!"

Flustered, Dan Yan and Qing Yun rushed to comply.

Still weeping, Shu Yan pushed at Pei Heng. "You—who even are you? Let go of me!"

Pei Heng soothed, "I am your husband."

"Liar! I’m only fourteen, unmarried!"

She refused to believe him. When he wouldn’t release her, she bit down hard on his hand.

He grunted but didn’t let go.

She bit down with all her might, and soon blood ran down his pale skin, dripping onto her white sleeping robes, spreading like crimson flowers.

Pei Heng appeared not to notice, gently patting her back to calm her.

Just then, Dan Yan and Qing Yun returned with a silver-haired man around fifty.

Without a word, he took out needles from his medical kit and began administering treatment.

After about a quarter of an hour, Shu Yan finally quieted, releasing her grip. With tears in her eyes, she looked at Pei Heng and murmured, "Uncle Pei?"

Pei Heng "hmm"-ed, wiping the blood from her lips. "Don’t be afraid. I’m here."

Her eyelids fluttered closed as she fell into a deep sleep.

Director Qin let out a relieved breath.

The Chief Grand Secretary’s wife had been the daughter of the late General Shen Yue, raised on the frontier.

Four years ago, the Shen family met with disaster—they were all exiled, save for this sixth daughter, who not only emerged unharmed but married into an eminent family a year later.

Rumor had it that when Grand Secretary Pei petitioned the late emperor for approval for their marriage, he produced an ancient betrothal agreement, claiming Miss Shen Liu had been promised to him in infancy—that she had always been a Pei.

The tale spread far and wide, celebrated as a timeless love story.

Yet after marriage, Miss Shen Liu lived a reclusive life, rarely seen by outsiders.

A few nights prior, Grand Secretary Pei had him hauled from his bed in the middle of the night, saying she had hit her head.

By the time he arrived, she was already unconscious. Though she was revived, she had become like this.

Ah, a loyal general like Shen Yue had come to such a tragic end.

And now, even his sixth daughter had fallen to this condition…

What surprised him, however, was Grand Secretary Pei’s gentle care toward his young wife.

The man was notorious at court for his merciless efficiency and frosty disposition.

But then again, Grand Secretary Pei was getting on in years. With such a fragile young wife at home, even the sternest heart might melt.

Noticing the blood still seeping from Pei Heng’s hand, he quickly applied medicinal powder and dressed the wound.

Grand Secretary Pei asked hoarsely, "How is my wife?" Director Qin replied hastily, "Her external wounds are superficial, but the blood clot in her skull remains. It may be an instance of soul loss."