Li Yun happened to be seeing patients near the training grounds, and by the time she rushed over after getting word, Huayue’s whole head was already drenched in sweat. She went in to examine her and frowned. “By my count, there should be more than half a month left — how could it suddenly start now? Did you eat something wrong?”
“No,” Shuang Jiang answered from the side. “I already checked. There was nothing wrong with anything she’s eaten.”
Her face pale, Huayue blinked and looked at Li Yun, unease showing in her eyes.
Li Yun surveyed the room, her heart sinking, but turned back with a smile anyway. “Then it’s just that this little one couldn’t wait to come meet you, Madam. Don’t be afraid — I’ll deliver the child safely, nothing will go wrong.”
With that reassurance, Huayue felt much more at ease. She drew in cold breaths, bearing through wave after wave of labor pains.
The training grounds were full of cold weapons and hardware — where would there be fine silks and soft bedding? Wen Guzhi led people searching for a long while before barely managing to find one clean quilt, along with two copper basins, and had people boil water and prepare food.
The banquet had dispersed, and An Yuan, still not fully sober, was dragged off by Xu Changyi to go fetch the midwife. Sitting on horseback, he asked in confusion, “What do we need a midwife for?”
His expression grave, Xu Changyi said, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, brother — you’d better hope Madam has a safe delivery today. If something goes wrong at a banquet you arranged, the Third Young Master won’t reason with you at all.”
Half sobered by the shock, An Yuan grabbed his own clothes, his face going pale. “This isn’t my fault either — I wasn’t the one who invited Madam here.”
Xu Changyi: “…”
The horse, running at a gallop, was reined in abruptly, and An Yuan, unable to keep his seat, tumbled off the horse’s back.
“Hey.” He flipped over as he landed, nearly falling, and looked up with a grimace. “Brother Xu, what are you doing?”
Xu Changyi said nothing, simply continuing on horseback alone to fetch the midwife.
An Yuan wasn’t entirely wrong — he truly hadn’t been the one to invite her. It had been Mingshu. If something really did go wrong, the Third Young Master would blame Mingshu first.
Mingshu wasn’t a particularly likable person — always full of lectures, never one to flatter or soften herself, more like another mother to him than a wife. But whatever he thought of her personally, she was still someone who’d grown up alongside him since childhood — there was no reason to let her take the blame for helping out.
The midwife’s house was quite far from the training grounds. By the time Xu Changyi picked her up, one glance at the sky made his heart sink.
“Amituofo.” He murmured a quiet prayer. “May the young mistress have heaven’s own fortune watching over her.”
He wasn’t the only one — everyone outside the side room at the training grounds was praying.
And yet, perhaps because this crowd of rough men had done too much killing in their time, their store of blessings wasn’t deep enough, and the prayers did no good. Huayue labored in pain for a full hour before the delivery even properly began, her body so weak from the pain that she had no strength left to push. Li Yun, sweating profusely, kept lifting her eyelids to check on her while having Shuang Jiang talk to her, to keep her from slipping into unconsciousness.
In other households, when a wife was giving birth, sisters-in-law and aunts would be nearby offering kind words and blessings. Shuang Jiang, pale-faced, looked at Huayue and genuinely couldn’t think of any words about adding fortune or longevity, so she could only say, “Just hold on a little longer — we’ve got plenty of good days ahead of us.”
Huayue looked at her weakly, her eyelids fluttering.
“It’s true, this servant isn’t lying to you. Those shops we bought earlier with the several hundred taels are all arranged, and along with the deeds and land contracts Madam Xu is going to give us, we won’t go hungry wherever we end up.” Shuang Jiang said earnestly. “Just get through this and it’ll all be fine.”
Mingshu, listening nearby, frowned deeply. “How can you say such things at a time like this?”
Before she could finish, the woman in labor let out a groan of exertion.
Mingshu: “…”
She thought back to what Huayue had said to her earlier, and a bad feeling suddenly came over her. Unable to help herself, she rose and stepped outside to ask, “Where is the Third Young Master?”
Guiltily, Liu Chenghe answered, “Something came up and he went into the palace. He probably won’t be back for a while.”
Something came up at exactly this moment? Mingshu’s brow furrowed tightly. She quickly shut the door and glanced back inside, hoping the woman in labor hadn’t heard, and only then pressed her lips together.
Wealthy households were often full of coldness like this — women risked their lives giving birth while the men waited outside sipping tea with folded hands. But she hadn’t expected that the Third Young Master wouldn’t even keep watch — he’d simply gone off to attend to other matters entirely.
Glancing at Huayue, her whole body soaked in cold sweat, Mingshu sighed.
Huayue’s eyes were half closed, her gaze somewhat blank. She truly couldn’t see anything, could only hear Shuang Jiang’s stream of murmuring — clear enough at first, but before long she could no longer make out what was being said. Her body ached as though it didn’t belong to her anymore, hands pressing down on her belly again and again, her whole body feeling as though everything inside had shifted out of place, and yet she no longer even had the strength left to cry out.
For a moment, she felt as though she were about to die. The noise and chaos around her receded into the distance, and she felt as though she were floating, half-suspended in the air, not knowing where she was headed.
“Such a weakling.” Someone taunted her.
Huayue startled and turned to look, and there was Yin Ninghuai, standing at a distance with his hands behind his back, giving her a sidelong glance, his face full of disdain. “None of the Yin family children ever went through anything but the greatest hardship and suffering — and here you are, whining, unable to bear even this much pain.”
All around was a hazy white mist, and before long it resolved into the furnishings of the Great Wei palace — every brick and tile, every flower and tree, exactly as they had once been.
Her mouth pursing, she suddenly felt like crying, her eyes reddening as she looked at him and reached out to try to grab him.
“Get away from me,” Yin Ninghuai said warily, backing off. “I don’t like you. Just stay put and behave.”
“It hurts,” she said in a small, wheedling voice.
Someone came over from the side and gently lifted her up. Huayue glanced over and saw her own father the emperor, his face full of tender kindness, lifting her high just like when she was small, and saying gently, “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Reach out again, reach a little higher — ah, there, that’s it, sweetheart, you’re doing so well.”
Above her head was the jade magnolia tree from her childhood, its blossoms falling into her open palms, soft and pure white.
Choking back a sob, Huayue reached for her father’s hand, but just as she was about to touch it, he set her back down and gave her a gentle push forward. “Go.”
“Go where?” She shook her head, anxious, trying to grab hold of their robes. “I want to go home. I want to go home with you.”
“Not right now,” her mother said, standing beside her father, waving her hand toward her. “Go back quickly.”
“No—”
“Keep this up and I’ll smack you,” Yin Ninghuai said fiercely, giving her a shove. “How embarrassing, carrying on like this!”
Her body staggered, and the pain came crashing back over her whole body all at once. Huayue let out a hoarse cry of pain, tears rolling down in fat drops.
“Ah, she’s awake, finally there’s movement — Madam, Madam, push a little more, there’s still one more inside, if you don’t deliver now it’ll be too late!”
The noise poured back into her ears all at once. Huayue groaned, her eyes gradually able to make out the roof beams above, some strength returning to her body.
“All right, all right, there we go, quick, quick, take the baby over.”
The second child had arrived. Li Yun sank down beside the bed, utterly spent, only able to hold onto Huayue’s hand. Huayue felt some pain and tried to struggle, but truly had no strength left to move; in her ear she could still hear Shuang Jiang’s hoarse voice: “Great success — we’re about to earn one more. You absolutely must hold on, don’t lose heart now.”
The room was thick with the smell of blood; the maids and attendants were all exhausted, swaying on their feet; outside, it was impossible to tell what hour it was, everything pitch black.
Huayue rested for a long while, then rolled her eyes to look to the side.
“You want to see the children?” Shuang Jiang caught her meaning and quickly had the midwife bring the two little ones over.
Twins were a rare thing — and here it was, two little young masters at once, enough to make any household happy for half a year. And yet, as Huayue gazed at the two small bundles in their swaddling clothes for a moment, the confusion in her eyes only deepened.
“You’re looking for the Third Young Master?” Shuang Jiang turned to ask Mingshu. “Right, where is the Third Young Master?”
Mingshu lowered her eyes. “He said something came up in the palace and he had to go. He’s still not back yet.”
Shuang Jiang was stunned. A shadow crossed Huayue’s eyes as well.
Everyone knew there was no real affection between the two of them, but childbirth was the kind of thing that could cost a life in an instant — anyone would hope to have their husband nearby, even if just to say a word of thanks for the hardship afterward. And yet, of course, the Third Young Master was the Third Young Master — forget saying thanks, he hadn’t even shown his face at all.
The midwife and maids listening felt awkward, all scrambling to offer comforting words. Huayue only fell silent for a moment, then closed her eyes to rest, no longer paying it any mind.
After all, he was the Grand Marshal — affairs of state came first, and there would inevitably be urgent matters more important than holding a newborn. She had nothing to feel too sad about. Better to hurry up and get some sleep — that would do her more good than anything else.
Li Jingyun knelt beside the imperial bed, suddenly feeling a strange restlessness.
It was already past midnight, and His Majesty showed no sign of waking. He still didn’t know why the emperor had summoned him today of all days — perhaps it really was just because the illness was severe, and he wanted someone trustworthy by his side. Li Jingyun frowned, glanced at the Princess Imperial kneeling beside him, and, with no other choice, continued waiting.
Yin Huayue should already be back at the residence by now, he thought idly to himself. With him not around, who knew what mischief that little pup would get up to — no one in the household besides him dared discipline her anyway.
“Lord Li.” An attendant bowed to him, gesturing for him to step outside for a moment.
Coming back to himself, Li Jingyun followed him out through the palace doors, and heard the attendant say quietly, “The Fifth Prince is away on his tour of inspection, and His Majesty currently trusts only you in the palace. Please continue keeping watch a while longer, my lord, to prevent any trouble. This servant has already prepared a fine quilt for you inside — if you grow tired, you may rest on the small couch.”
Pulling him away from his days of leave wasn’t enough — now they wanted him to keep watch indefinitely as well? Li Jingyun frowned deeply, but catching sight of the Princess Imperial kneeling properly out of the corner of his eye, he didn’t dare leave either, and could only agree with a stifled grunt, continuing on inside to keep watch.
The emperor, said to be gravely ill, in fact woke the next morning after all, was even able to take some breakfast, and gave him a few instructions. By then Li Jingyun could no longer even remember exactly why he’d been urgently summoned into the palace in the first place. Once the guard rotation was arranged, he mounted his horse and left.
The moment he returned to the Grand Marshal’s residence — well. Quite a number of people were standing at the gate. The morning dew hadn’t even dried yet, and Wen Guzhi, Xu Changyi, and the rest were all dressed neatly and properly, standing guard as though they hadn’t slept at all.
“What are you all doing?” he said teasingly. “Come to guard my door like temple gatekeepers?”
The group startled, all turning to look at him at once, their expressions complicated. Wen Guzhi was the first to step forward, taking the reins of his horse, thinking it over before asking, “Third Young Master, if your sister-in-law were giving birth, and it came down to saving the mother or saving the child — which would you choose?”
His footsteps halted, his smile freezing. Li Jingyun slowly turned to stare at him. “She’s giving birth?”
“No, no,” Wen Guzhi waved his hands and laughed. “Just asking, hypothetically.”
What kind of question was that to just ask out of nowhere? He gave a short laugh and answered just as carelessly: “Whichever one — as long as one of them lives, that’s fine.”