Chapter 59

Chapter 59

“With a temper as stubborn as a rock, no one would ever want to reconcile with you.”

Lu Huairu had laid her cards on the table, yet the man remained as unyielding as stone, truly impervious to reason. He merely snorted and strode out of Yuxing Palace without a backward glance.

The Imperial Noble Consort clutched her chest. Her attendant, Aunt Meng, quickly brought a cup of warm tea. “Your Highness, please don’t vex yourself over the Marquis. His temperament has always been thus; it’s nothing new. At least he would never truly harm the Marchioness.”

That much was true, but what kind of sense did it make to keep her locked up at home? Ask around the capital—whoever heard of a man imprisoning his own wife?

Lu Huairu declared, “Summon him back to the palace tomorrow!”

She issued the command, determined to pin him down in the hall the next day and make him see reason, to release her at once.

Yet the following day, after court was dismissed, the palace messenger returned empty-handed, a troubled expression on his face.

“Your Highness, as per your command, I invited the Marquis to Yuxing Palace, but he paid no heed. He simply mounted his horse and rode away.”

The words painted such a vivid image of her brother’s cold, unyielding demeanor that Lu Huairu felt a sudden dizzy spell.

“Your Highness!” Her attendants rushed forward to steady her.

Fortunately, the Imperial Noble Consort was still young and not angry enough to collapse. But as she gazed toward the Marquis of Yongding’s residence beyond the palace walls—

With such a foul temper, and their parents gone, who could possibly control him now?!

*

Jiqing Lane, Marquis of Yongding’s Residence.

That evening, he returned to the main room.

Du Lingjing had received word from NianJia that she had relayed the matter to the Imperial Noble Consort, who had summoned him to the palace immediately after court that day. It seemed Du Lingjing would soon be freed.

Yet five or six days had passed, and March had arrived—still, he refused to let her step outside.

Clearly, even the Imperial Noble Consort held no sway over him.

Now, as Du Lingjing saw him return, she started to leave for the western chamber. Before she could step out, he seized her forearm.

“You haven’t spoken a single word to me in six days and nights.”

Not since that night when he had the maids burn incense.

But he had locked her away at home, ignoring even the Imperial Noble Consort—just as he wielded absolute power in court, where not even Grand Secretary Dou could suppress him. He did as he pleased. And if Prince Hui were to ascend the throne, he could have anything he wanted.

Yet she controlled her own words. She had no desire to speak another syllable to him—could he force her to speak?

She pursed her lips tighter, refusing to utter a sound.

Her icy expression was like a shard of river ice piercing his heart, chilling it until it clenched in pain.

But if she refused to speak, what could he do to compel her? He could only sweep her up in his arms and trap her in the bed.

Between the bed curtains, he forced her to share his bed.

…

The next day, he went to court, but a visitor arrived from the palace—Aunt Meng, the Imperial Noble Consort’s longtime attendant, who had served her since before her marriage.

Aunt Meng was no stranger to the Marquis’s residence, but with a new mistress now in charge, she didn't presume. She waited patiently outside.

Du Lingjing had not expected the Imperial Noble Consort to send Aunt Meng. She quickly changed clothes and went to the front hall to receive her.

The moment she entered, she understood Aunt Meng’s purpose.

The Imperial Noble Consort had sent down a wealth of gifts, supposedly to thank her for Prince Hui’s fondness for her seashell wind chime. Yet these treasures were worth far more than the wind chime.

This was no mere thanks—it was an “apology,” for the Imperial Noble Consort was truly powerless against her own brother.

Du Lingjing felt she didn't deserve it, but Aunt Meng insisted she accept the gifts thankfully. Once the attendants were dismissed, Aunt Meng pulled something from her sleeve.

“Her Highness says these trinkets are nothing, and the Marchioness lacks no jewels. But she hopes these days may bring you some solace—enough to take up your needlework again. So she made this tassel for you.”

Du Lingjing was shocked.

She rose at once. “How could I dare accept a tassel made by Her Highness?!”

Such improper behavior, if spoken aloud! Yet Aunt Meng only said,

“Her Highness has already made it. Please accept it. The Marquis’s temper is truly… *sigh*. She only hopes you will not take it too much to heart.”

Du Lingjing understood.

The tassel was not truly for her—it was for the Imperial Noble Consort’s impossible brother, the powerful minister.

The Imperial Noble Consort was kind-hearted—unlike a certain someone.

Reluctantly, Du Lingjing accepted it and started to kneel in thanks, but Aunt Meng stopped her.

It was a long, aqua silk tassel, that could be tied at the waist or draped along a skirt. Folded, its intricate workmanship was stunning—unlike anything Du Lingjing had seen before. But when let loose, it cascaded like flowing water from the waist, resembling a mountain waterfall.

Du Lingjing was amazed. “Her Highness’s skill rivals the heavens. She shows me too much favor.”

Aunt Meng smiled. “Her Highness only wishes for your happiness.”

She explained that the technique itself was meant to bring blessings. “Her Highness asks that you not just put it away but wear it often.”

Then, from her sleeve, she drew another tassel. “There is one more—Her Highness made one on a whim, for the Marquis.”

But compared to the flowing water-like tassel from before, this one, meant for him, was pitch-black, woven with stiff threads, and knotted into a dark lump at the end.

Du Lingjing was confused. Aunt Meng cleared her throat.

“Her Highness was so cross, she made a tassel resembling a blackened rock for the Marquis…”

A blackened rock…

Du Lingjing pressed her lips tightly to stop herself from laughing.

She quickly changed the subject, praising the Imperial Noble Consort’s needlework. “Her Highness must often ply her needle for His Majesty and the young prince.”

But Aunt Meng didn't continue that topic.

“Her Highness is indeed skilled in needlework, especially in such intricate tassels. Even the palace’s embroidery bureau has few who can match her.”

Yet she added that such tassels demanded great effort. “Her Highness seldom has the leisure for it. She has not made one in years—not since Prince Yong left the palace to reside elsewhere…”

Aunt Meng trailed off with a soft sigh.

Du Lingjing knew bits and pieces about it.

Prince Yong had been raised by Lu Huairu since he was two or three, after the death of his birth mother, Lady Shao. He grew up under her care, from a toddler to a young man. He wouldn’t remember his birth mother, but he would surely remember Lu Huairu, who raised him.

Yet somehow, they'd grown apart.

When it came to palace intrigues, Du Lingjing only knew fragments. Apart from those directly involved and the “all-powerful, all-knowing” Marquis Lu, no one else knew the whole story.

Take Lady Lu Huairu's marriage into Prince Yin's household, for instance. At that time, Du Lingjing was in the capital with her father, so she witnessed the event firsthand, but she only knew part of the story.

That was in the Hongqi 14th year, when the Yongding Army was trapped beyond the frontier, and the Tatars suddenly sought peace with the court. The civil and military officials were at each other's throats in the court over whether to advocate peace or war.

At that time, the third, fourth, and fifth princes of the late emperor had gone south to stand in for him at the ancestral rites. Prince Yin, who was not favored—now the current emperor—was left behind in the capital.

But the late emperor, unable to decide between peace and war due to the endless debates, worked himself into a feverish illness. With the older princes vying for the throne absent, Prince Yin got stuck with temporary regency.

Prince Yin found himself with authority to make decisions on the matter.

It was at this moment that Lady Lu Huairu entered Prince Yin's household. The celebrated Miss Lu willingly became a concubine to Prince Yin.

She moved in first, and the ceremony to formally take her as a secondary consort was held afterward.

After this hushed-up wedding, Prince Yin immediately shelved the peace negotiations and insisted on sending troops to aid the Yongding Army. Though the delay had cost countless lives, the army wasn't wiped out completely and gradually recovered to its current state...

At that time, the Imperial Noble Consort, Lu Huairu, was just eighteen years old.

Word was she'd been promised to a young general in the Yongding Army. Du Lingjing didn’t know if this was true, but at the time, her father and grandfather were stationed at the border, her mother had passed away, and her grandmother was bedridden.

Half of the Yongding Army awaited reinforcements, while the court was gridlocked, with no one able to make a decision.

She alone made the call for the Yongding Army’s survival.

She gave up her standing as the eldest daughter of the Lu family, slipped into the prince’s household in a plain sedan, and became the concubine of the unfavored Prince Yin.

Had Prince Yin not later ascended the throne, what might've become of Lu Huairu, the eldest daughter of the Lu family?

No one knows.

…

Aunt Meng made small talk with Du Lingjing for a while, mentioning how much the Imperial Noble Consort liked the seashell wind chime she had sent.

“As for His Highness, needless to say—he hung it under the eaves to listen to the wind one moment, then held it to his ear the next, asking what the sound of the waves was really like.”

They talked until late. Just as that “tyrannical” marquis returned from court, Aunt Meng said the Imperial Noble Consort had a few more words to relay to him and took her leave.

Du Lingjing didn’t know how many more lectures the Imperial Noble Consort had for her brother, but she was still under house arrest, unable to step outside.

No social summons made a difference—except for the seventy-seventh birthday celebration of the Marchioness of Jing'an. He brought the invitation to her desk.

If Du Lingjing simply refused to leave, there would be nothing he could do. But this was a major event in the capital, and out of respect for the Imperial Noble Consort, she let it slide.

Still, she refused to speak to him.

On the eighth day, the Heir Apparent of Count Zhongqing, Wei Cong, who had returned to the capital to recuperate from injuries, came calling, bringing NianJia along.

The two had brought congratulatory gifts. Du Lingjing went to the front hall and immediately noticed a towering, battle-hardened man standing beside NianJia.

He was about the same height as Marquis Lu, but clearly a general who had never left the battlefield, his whole frame bearing the marks of wind and sand, exuding an even more formidable aura. NianJia seemed petite beside him.

Du Lingjing sized up the pair for a moment, especially noticing NianJia’s awkward discomfort around General Wei. She couldn’t help but sneak a few more looks at Wei Cong.

But those looks didn't escape notice from a certain someone. He frowned, his eyes demanding why she was staring at another woman’s husband.

Du Lingjing wasn’t reading that deep into it.

Besides, she was already confined indoors—was she not even allowed to look at people?

In her opinion, Wei Cong was a year older than him but infinitely more composed, sitting like a mountain, his calm and reticence embodying the unshakable bearing of a great general from the books.

In contrast, a certain domineering marquis was accustomed to arrogance, his every expression oozing unchecked power. It was hard to see how he could be called “Shenru”—“cautious as the beginning.”

He looked nothing like someone who walked on eggshells.

He was still glaring at her, his stare growing heavier. Du Lingjing ignored him, but it wouldn't do to keep staring at others.

Just then, a servant brought tea. His right hand was injured, thickly bandaged, so the tea was placed on his left side. But two fingers on his left hand were also hurt.

NianJia couldn’t help but glance at him, worried that his left hand—unaccustomed to use and injured—might struggle to lift the hot tea.

Yet Wei Cong’s face betrayed nothing. He unhurriedly lifted the lid, stirred the tea leaves twice, then set the lid aside and picked up the cup steadily, without so much as a tremor.

Du Lingjing saw NianJia visibly relax, but in an unguarded moment, her gaze suddenly met her husband’s.

Their eyes locked across the empty space in the hall, a chance meeting across the room. NianJia quickly looked away, pretending she hadn’t been concerned about whether the man across from her could drink his tea. She used the teacup lid to block his line of sight, lowering her head to take several hurried sips.

Du Lingjing caught her flustered reaction, while Wei Cong remained unperturbed, his eyes softening, the ghost of a smile touching his features.

NianJia, however, didn’t dare look at him again.

Having spent so much time with books in the study, Du Lingjing found this wordless back-and-forth unexpectedly amusing.

But NianJia soon noticed her watching and flashed her a look. Meanwhile, Wei Cong turned to Marquis Lu, discussing military affairs in the Shaanxi Regional Military Commission and its subordinate garrisons over the past six months.

The four exchanged a few light remarks before Grand Steward Zong announced the banquet was ready. The Marquis and his wife naturally invited their distinguished guests to dine.

At the banquet, Grand Steward Zong personally served Wei Cong, who protested the courtesy. Lu Shenru simply told him to sit comfortably.

Wei Cong’s right arm and hand were severely injured, and his left hand was also inconvenient, though he could move about without hindrance.

After Grand Steward Zong finished serving him, he withdrew. Once he was gone, Du Lingjing noticed NianJia stealing a few more glances at Wei Cong before swiftly slipping a morsel of food onto his plate when he wasn’t looking.

It was as if she was fulfilling an obligation to tend to him but didn’t even want him to notice her doing it.

He was in the middle of speaking to Lu Shenru, but just as he finished his sentence, he turned and caught NianJia’s retreating chopsticks.

“Thank you, my lady,” he said softly.

NianJia hadn’t expected to be caught so quickly. She had no choice but to reply, though she still didn’t dare look at him. “Please eat, my lord,” she urged.

The man’s eyes crinkled with amusement.

“Very well.”

Du Lingjing was thoroughly entertained. According to what Nianjia had previously told her, life in Xi'an was dead boring, and she had never sought out Wei Cong. Though they had been married for three years, they were barely more than strangers.

Yet now, it seemed Wei Cong certainly didn’t regard Princess Nianjia as an unfamiliar stranger.

Just as Du Lingjing was quietly amused, she noticed a portion of food had also been placed in her bowl.

Someone had served her—a tender piece of boneless fish.

It was the marquis.

Normally, she should have said, “Thank you, Marquis Lu,” but Du Lingjing remained silent.

Lu Shenru added another portion to her bowl, yet she still didn’t speak, acting like she didn't see it.

Eight days had passed.

Throughout the meal, Marquis Lu felt as if the fish had been tainted with bile or the vegetables laced with bitterness—each course worse than the one before.

By the end, each person got a taste of sour, sweet, bitter, and spicy.

The four walked a short way in the garden. Wei Cong had traveled all the way from the northwest to the capital—he wasn't here just to eat. Lu Shenru knew what he wanted and soon instructed his Consort and Princess Nianjia to enjoy the spring scenery in the rear garden while he and Wei Cong went to the Yuanxiu Pavilion for a private discussion.

With the two men gone, Du Lingjing and Nianjia were much more comfortable, especially Nianjia, who let out a relieved sigh.

Du Lingjing smiled and asked, “I find the young master to be quite dependable and thoughtful.”

“Who’s saying he’s not?” Nianjia replied.

“Then why do you and he…”

Three years married, why are you still so awkward?

Du Lingjing left the latter half unspoken, but NianJia understood perfectly. Instead of answering, she changed the subject.

“Let’s go to the Stone-Washing Pavilion on the rockery. The view there is lovely.”

Du Lingjing smiled, noticing NianJia’s reluctance and let it drop.

Then NianJia suddenly spotted the ornamental silk cord tied at Du Lingjing’s waist.

“Oh? This cord is beautiful—detailed but not stiff. Who made it?”

Remembering how she had asked the Imperial Consort to reprimand a certain someone, Du Lingjing said quietly, “The Imperial Consort made it.”

NianJia was startled.

She remarked, “Marquis Lu is truly formidable—even the Imperial Consort couldn't control him.”

Du Lingjing didn’t want to talk about it either.

But NianJia, still eyeing the cord, added, “I heard some old stories about the Imperial Consort in Shaanxi. Not sure if they’re true.”

“What stories?”

NianJia looked around to make sure no one was nearby before whispering, “She was once betrothed—to a young general from the Guo family, her maternal relatives. But in the Hongqi 14th year, when the Yongding Army suffered heavy losses, she married the Emperor, parting ways with that General Guo.”

“What happened to General Guo?”

NianJia looked toward the northwest, her eyes faraway.

“Three years after the Imperial Consort married, he died on the battlefield…”

*

In the Yuanxiu Pavilion of the outer courtyard.

Lu Shenru and Wei Cong didn't bother with small talk.

Having grown up together in the military, going through hell together countless times, they shared a deep understanding. When Lu Shenru entered the capital and joined the court, Wei Cong remained to guard the frontier, securing the northwest.

Cutting to the chase, Lu Shenru asked, “You’ve returned this time because those spies from back then have resurfaced?”

He finished, and saw Wei Cong’s expression tighten as he slowly nodded.