Chapter 48

Chapter 48

The small pot of bamboo-leaf wine was poured cup after cup. She took a sip, then slowly let it melt in her mouth, the fresh, grassy aroma of bamboo leaves mingling with the alcohol, spreading through her mouth before trailing a fiery line down her throat.

After just a few cups, the pot was empty.

The palace attendant, seeing Marchioness Lu sitting quietly at the banquet with an air of scholarly grace, had quietly finished an entire pot of wine alone. Hesitating, the attendant wondered whether to bring another.

But Du Lingjing noticed that others in the banquet hall had also taken note of her solitary drinking. That wouldn’t be proper. She rose and walked toward the covered walkway behind the hall.

Outside the corridor, in an ornamental pool, stood a hundred-year-old pine, still verdant even in the depths of winter.

The spot was secluded, with few people around. As Du Lingjing approached, she heard the wind rustling through the ancient pine and sat down on the edge of the corridor, letting the breeze wash over her along with the tree.

The scent of wine dispersed in the wind along the corridor.

Someone was watching her through the latticework of a window in the wall.

It was Young Miss Yang, Yang Jinyu.

The Yang family’s matron servant craned her neck to study Du Lingjing for a long moment.

“Why hasn’t she gone to confront the Marquis yet? Others would already be well in their cups after a pot of wine—either crying or laughing. But this Marchioness Lu remains utterly composed? Just sitting there in the wind—even that old pine tree makes more noise than she does.”

A little more wind, and the wine’s warmth would dissipate.

Young Miss Yang couldn’t understand it either.

The words she had prepared weren’t even fully convincing to herself, yet the Marchioness had believed them. But now, instead of confronting the Marquis as expected, the Marchioness remained silent, calmly enjoying the courtyard scenery as if nothing had happened.

The mistress and servant exchanged glances, neither understanding what the Marchioness was thinking.

The wind beneath the latticed window was strong, and Young Miss Yang’s head began to ache. Annoyed, she flicked her sleeve and left, her maidservant hastily following.

Qiu Lin brought over a cloak and whispered to Du Lingjing, “That Young Miss Yang was watching you for a long time.”

Du Lingjing had noticed.

“I know she was watching me, and I know what she meant by telling me those things. She just wanted me to cause a disturbance with the Marquis. The bigger the scene, the more humiliated he’d be—that’s what she wanted.”

She shook her head with a helpless laugh. “But would the Marquis, after all his careful planning to win over the Fu Party, abandon his efforts just because someone made a fuss?”

A moment’s impatience could ruin a grand plan—someone as measured and deliberate as him would surely understand that.

“Young Miss Yang underestimated the situation.”

Her smile deepened, but Qiu Lin thought it was like winter’s first snow—cold, faint, and quick to melt.

“Besides, after months of marriage, the Marquis has treated me extremely well. Whatever his intentions, we shouldn’t interfere with his greater designs. So Young Miss Yang is destined to wait in vain for me to cause a disturbance.”

She spoke lightly, but Qiu Lin, smelling the strong alcohol on her, couldn’t help but ask,

“But why did you drink so much, my lady?”

The young mistress paused briefly before her eyes glimmered with soft brightness.

“It was bamboo-leaf wine.”

Du Lingjing smiled, saying she hadn’t had it in a long time. “Back in Qingzhou, *Sanlang* would always bury a jar of bamboo-leaf wine in the bamboo grove. He’d dig it out from under layers of leaves—even the jar itself would be imbued with the scent of bamboo.”

But every time he unearthed the wine, he only poured her a small cup.

She would complain, demanding a whole pot, but he would refuse with a shake of his head.

“I know *Quan Quan* can hold her liquor, but too much isn’t good. A cup is for pleasure, but a pot would summon gloom without cause.”

He never let her drink too much. Whenever her cup was empty, he would take it from her hand.

She would playfully refuse to release it, staring into his eyes to see if he’d relent.

*Sanlang* was powerless against her pleading eyes and would pour her half a cup more—but then take the cup away early.

“Next time.”

Next time… Why didn’t he pour for her anymore?

The wind shook a cluster of pine needles from the ancient tree, and one landed on Du Lingjing’s shoulder, pricking her lightly.

“I didn’t expect the palace attendants to serve bamboo-leaf wine,” she told Qiu Lin. “I couldn’t help myself—I indulged.”

Qiu Lin suspected it wasn’t just that. She plucked the pine needle from her mistress’s shoulder.

“Don’t sit in the wind for too long, my lady. You’ll get a headache.”

Du Lingjing said it was fine. Her gaze, previously lowered, now lifted to the sky, where stars glimmered between the pine boughs.

“I just… miss *Sanlang* a little. I wonder what he’s doing up there. Maybe drinking bamboo-leaf wine too?”

Qiu Lin watched her curve her lips in a fleeting smile but wondered if she might be a little drunk.

Du Lingjing didn’t think she was drunk—just lost in memories.

She remembered when her father’s filial mourning period ended and he prepared to return to the capital to reassume his office. She couldn’t bear to leave him, divided between staying in Qingzhou with Mianlou and *Sanlang* or accompanying her father to care for him.

When *Sanlang* heard, he told her not to hesitate. “If you don’t go, I’ll stay in Qingzhou with you. If you go to the capital, I’ll acquire modest lodgings there too. It’d be nice to see more people.”

He spoke as though it were nothing, but she knew he disliked the capital as much as she did.

That city was overwhelming in its scale, its people too complex—their designs unfathomable, their sincerity impossible to gauge.

It was true. Even blood-sworn brothers like Shao Boju and Hu Tinglan, once they entered the capital’s bureaucracy, had grown distant until they were as they were now.

Let alone the nobles and powerful ministers mired in its machinations—who among them didn’t wear many masks, shifting unpredictably?

But neither her father nor *Sanlang* could have imagined that one day, she too would be ensnared in the capital’s web.

She wanted to return to Qingzhou.

But how might she extricate herself?

The constellations turned above. Du Lingjing had no heart for further conversation. She called to Qiu Lin, “You may go on. I shall linger a while, then return to the hall.”

Qiu Lin studied her expression, as if it had been scattered like pine needles in the wind. “Then do not tarry overlong, my lady. And don’t drink any more when you go back.”

“Very well.”

Qiu Lin departed, casting backward glances as she went.

The banquet hall teemed with figures; amid clinking glasses and flickering lanterns, the night breeze swept through the corridors, reaching this quiet stretch where she sat alone.

Du Lingjing remained seated a while longer, still reluctant to return to the hall, when unexpectedly, footsteps approached.

She turned her head and saw, to her surprise, the Dowager of Grand Secretary Dou's household, accompanied by her daughters- and granddaughters-in-law, passing by the same path.

Their eyes met—then flicked away, mutual avoidance instinctive. The enmity between Grand Secretary Dou and Marquis Lu was well-known throughout the court. This chance encounter between their womenfolk made the air thick with unspoken tension.

Du Lingjing turned slightly away, feigning distraction, and continued to let the breeze cool her flushed cheeks.

Yet as the Dou family women passed by, supporting the Dowager, the old lady suddenly paused.

With barely a step between them, the Dowager spoke to her.

"Child, don't sit in the wind after drinking."

She even beckoned her closer.

Silence fell over the corridor.

The Dou family women were mortified, assuming the Dowager had mistaken the Marchioness Lu for one of their own younger kin.

The Grand Secretary's wife offered Du Lingjing an apologetic smile, maintaining propriety.

Du Lingjing, however, felt no offense. Instead, she found herself moved as the trembling Dowager continued to gaze at her with concern. "Go back inside and warm yourself."

For a fleeting moment, she thought of the elderly matriarchs in her Qingzhou clan, who often sunbathed at the ancestral hall’s entrance. They, too, would chide her gently—"Jing, off to Mianlou again? Books are endless—rest your eyes a little..."

An aching warmth spread through her chest.

Perhaps the Dowager had indeed mistaken her for a family member, but in this cold, sprawling capital, such sincerity was rare.

"Of course," she replied graciously, rising to her feet. "Thank you for your kindness."

Amidst the Dou women’s poorly masked discomfort, the Dowager smiled at her with gentle eyes.

Du Lingjing returned the smile faintly.

She returned to the hall, and soon, others began trickling back as well.

Before long, the Emperor and Consort resumed their seats at the head of the gathering. The Empress, of course, did not return. The Emperor uttered auspiciousries for the coming year with his ministers, while the Consort, on behalf of the Empress, offered a few encouraging remarks to the assembled officials and their families.

As the music and dances gradually ceased, the palace banquet neared its end.

Du Lingjing followed the crowd outside. The Taiye Lake’s night wind was brisker than by day. As she neared the plum grove, she spotted Chong'an hurrying toward her from a distance.

He bowed and relayed that the Marquis had been waylaid by nobles—dukes, marquises, earls, and their heirs. "They insist on pulling him to two tavern feasts outside the palace tonight. He won't be able to return home."

Du Lingjing understood. "I’ll return on my own."

But Chong'an quickly added, "The Marquis asks that you wait, my lady. He wishes to speak with you briefly before departing."

He wanted to see her before his next engagement?

She had no choice but to wait for him deeper in the plum grove.

Within minutes, he arrived.

Moonlight sheathed him. He had changed into a tawny brocade robe embroidered with daylilies, and as he strode beneath the silver glow, his very presence seemed to draw all light to him.

He crossed the arched bridge over the newly thawed stream, where noblewomen clustered. The moment his figure appeared on the bridge, every gaze turned toward him.

Not a single pair of eyes could resist lingering on his tall, striking frame. The bridge's lanterns cast shadows that deepened the handsome contours of his face—his sharp brows, the noble line of his nose, the faint, wine-softened curve of his lips.

Descending the bridge, his narrow waist and long legs clad in black boots made each step feel like a heartbeat.

Du Lingjing noticed several young wives and maidens blushing, too shy to look at him directly.

She smiled faintly and looked away.

Yet he swiftly moved past the crowd, heading straight for the plum grove.

In moments, he stood before her.

"What instructions does the Marquis have?" she asked.

But the moment she spoke, he caught the heavy wine scent on her.

"You drank this much?"

He inhaled again. "Bamboo-Leaf Green?"

His amiable expression darkened. His gaze sharpened, locking onto hers.

Du Lingjing turned her face away slightly.

"The palace staff poured it," she explained.

His mouth tightened. Without a word, he swept a glance downward, and the onlookers scattered. In mere moments, the plum grove held only the two of them.

Quiet engulfed them, as if the outside world had faded away. Only the moonlight drifted between the branches, gilding the budding plum blossoms.

"Did the Marquis have something to say?"

When he remained silent, she repeated her question.

Liquor-laden breath hung between them, their breaths heavier than usual. Under his wordless scrutiny, Du Lingjing's own breathing grew uneven.

If he had commands, why hesitate?

Instead of speaking, he suddenly raised a hand, brushing his calloused thumb against her cheek.

She was saturated with the aroma of Bamboo-Leaf Green, her face warm from the wine, her hair and even the seam of her lips carrying its lingering aroma.

Still, he said nothing.

Before she could react, he abruptly bent down and captured her lips.

His kiss was domineering, inexorable, the taste of wine flooding her senses and overwhelming the bamboo’s crisp notes.

Yet he wasn’t satisfied. The hand behind her ear pulled her closer, forcing her head back to deepen the kiss.

Du Lingjing pressed a palm against his chest, intending to push him away.

But the moment she resisted, his arm locked around her waist, hauling her flush against him.

Then—his teeth grazed her lip.

Du Lingjing couldn’t resist him and could only submit to his actions.

Her bamboo scent had almost faded, leaving only his scent enveloping her from head to toe.

Then he loosened his grip a little, his voice low and hoarse as he spoke.

"Don’t drink bamboo wine in the future."

Du Lingjing didn’t want to engage with him and started to walk away.

The man clamped down on her wrist, refusing to let go. "Quan Quan..."

Though his hold was firm, his voice turned gentle despite himself.

"I haven’t told you what I needed to say yet."

"What does the Marquis wish to say?" Her tone grew cooler, her eyes avoiding his.

The man suppressed a resigned sigh. He said it was nothing much and brushed aside a stray lock of hair behind her ear for her.

"I can’t accompany you home tonight. It’s quite a walk from here to the palace gates where the carriage awaits, and I fear the night wind might make you cold."

He removed his cloak and draped it over her shoulders.

"Wear this on your way home."

Only then did Du Lingjing couldn’t help looking at him.

He remembered even this...

She refused, saying, "The Marquis still has two more banquets to attend tonight. It’s better if you keep it for yourself."

Her voice finally warmed toward him once more, but Lu Shenru stopped her from removing the cloak.

"How could I be cold as long as my wife is wearing it?"

He chuckled lightly.

Hearing this ridiculous logic, Du Lingjing couldn’t help but study him wordlessly again.

He then called for Qiu Lin, instructing her to prepare hangover remedy upon their return, and added, "Go to bed early. I likely won’t be back until tomorrow morning."

Du Lingjing looked at him a few more times.

She thought to herself that he was, ever the thoughtful one.

Perhaps he had married her because of the Remonstrating Ministers, but he might have found his proper wife to his liking and thus treated her with care.

Yet even so, how far he went was beyond ordinary men.

Especially when he took the initiative to accompany her in honoring Sanlang’s memory.

Clearly, he cared—yet he truly went with her.

How many people in this world could do such a thing?

If a man could endure what others could not and achieve what others could not, what could he possibly fail to accomplish?

After giving his instructions, he was urged away by others. Du Lingjing turned to watch his receding figure.

He was indeed remarkable and had given up so much.

She could only hope that all he sought would come to pass and not be in vain.

...

The next day was New Year’s Eve.

True to his word, he didn’t return until dawn but stayed in the outer courtyard. It seemed he had only managed an hour’s sleep before someone came seeking his counsel.

By evening, he finally finished his duties. When he returned to the main courtyard, the scent of alcohol on him had nearly faded, and he was his usual self again, showing no signs of fatigue. He merely asked for two extra cups of strong tea.

Du Lingjing thought to herself that after a sleepless night and with the need to keep watch on New Year’s Eve, he could still power through with strong tea—truly...

She held her tongue but heard him speak regretfully.

"To be honest with you, my dear, I originally had fireworks and firecrackers prepared, but yesterday I heard news..." He lowered his voice slightly. "It’s said the Emperor caught a chill some days ago and hasn’t shaken it off. Lately, he’s been feeling poorly and can’t bear loud noises—many in the palace have been punished for it."

He continued, "Given this, it wouldn’t be appropriate for us to make a big show with fireworks. But this is your first New Year’s celebration with me at the Marquis’s residence, and it’s what a pity..."

He sighed and shook his head.

Du Lingjing wasn’t bothered about fireworks, but she had to ask, "How is the Emperor’s illness? Could it be..."

If the Emperor died before the Empress, the Imperial Consort would never become the Empress, and Prince Hui would lose his claim as the rightful heir to the throne.

Her question visibly clouded over the man’s expression, but he raised a hand to dismiss the thought.

"Unlikely. Let’s wait until spring when the weather warms up before seeing."

Yet he brought up another matter.

"Perhaps because the Emperor fell ill at the year’s end, he’s showing mercy. Whether it’s Shao Boju and the Shao family or those two troublemakers from the Earl of Rongchang’s household, the Emperor will likely go lightly on them."

Du Lingjing raised an eyebrow.

Miss Yang had been desperately lobbying for help, yet it was nothing compared to the mercy brought about by the Emperor’s illness.

But then the Marquis suddenly asked, "Why did you drink so much that day? Did Yang Jinyu say something to you?"

He was sharply observant.

Du Lingjing recalled how, before the palace banquet, he had warned her not to heed Miss Yang’s words. Had he guessed some of it—not wanting her to inquire further about the imperial decree arranging their marriage?

Back then, he had only said the marriage was entirely the Emperor’s will, that he knew nothing and could do nothing about it.

Du Lingjing replied, "The Shao family’s madam asked me to appeal for mercy before the Marquis. She even offered me a chest of pearls."

The man chuckled at that. "Does the wife of Marquis Lu need a chest of pearls from her?"

As he spoke, he called for someone to fetch the pearls from the treasury.

"I believe there are three or five cases—gifts from officials in Liangguang. They’ve been collecting dust in the treasury. Have them brought out for your jewelry."

That single chest of pearls from Miss Yang had been of great worth, yet he had three or five more stored away.

This Marquis was truly incredibly lavish. Had any of those noble ladies who wished to marry him been in her place, who wouldn’t be thrilled?

The thought amused her, and she smiled but waved off the offer.

The man asked her, "What are you smiling at, darling?"

"I was laughing at how generous you are, my lord. But I only have one body, and the jewelry you’ve already given me is more than enough, let alone several boxes of pearls."

The night was still long. She lowered her eyes with a smile, but the man lifted her onto the daybed.

Across the capital, the streets and alleys were alive with the loud crackling of firecrackers, yet he laid her down among the silken covers, lowering himself over her.

Du Lingjing inhaled sharply.

The sky had just darkened, and the entire city was keeping vigil for the New Year.

Here, on this daybed...

But with the slightest movement, her robe slipped away, and his lips traced the curve of her neck.

She resisted, pushing weakly at him, but he already knew her body too well.

In mere moments, she was overwhelmed by sensation.

Panicked, she struggled again, but it was futile.

He was a battle-hardened general, a mighty and formidable commander, master of every weapon and tactic.

He knew the enemy’s weakness best, exploiting it ruthlessly.

She didn’t want to be under his control, but resistance was impossible. With just the slightest aim at the most vulnerable point of her defenses, he struck, and her entire formation crumbled instantly.

The climax overtook her.

Then he murmured lowly, whispering in her ear,

"Quan Quan, do you think tonight might bring us our first child?"

A child...

Du Lingjing jolted back to awareness amidst her trembling.

He wanted the support of the Fu Party behind her, but he also wanted her to truly become his noble wife—to bear his children and build his legacy.

Every step, whether concerning his wife or his heirs, he had calculated and planned far in advance.

He planned three steps ahead, advancing with meticulous care.

She truly found him formidable—admiring and respecting him, believing that with his intellect and capability, he would undoubtedly achieve his ambitions.

Prince Hui would ascend to the throne, and he would become the empire’s most powerful regent, second only to the emperor.

The Remonstrating Ministers would serve him, and the world would be his to command.

Only, she never quite liked the capital, nor life here.

When the time came, and everything was settled—once he had no more use for her—would he let her go?

Just send her back to her home in Qingzhou, to Mianlou.