Wei Shubin’s mind was in turmoil, various matters spinning endlessly before her eyes as she traveled. Li Yuangui’s rejection of marriage despite his feelings, Yang Xinzhi’s strange way of addressing his “Birth Mother,” Chai Yingluo’s silence since returning home from the palace, Yang Buyao’s postpartum illness… All these required quiet solitude to think through carefully, or direct inquiries to relevant parties.
However, she was whisked into a carriage by Princess Guiyang, and as they rode together toward Cihe Temple, her Fifth Aunt Chai Yingluo wouldn’t give her a moment’s peace to contemplate these matters.
The Fifth Princess was adorned with pearls and jewels in her hair, wearing an elaborate brocade short-sleeved garment that only emphasized her corpulent figure. Though the carriage compartment wasn’t small, Wei Shubin could only sit pressed against the lacquered wall.
The middle-aged woman’s strong perfume mixed with sweat assaulted her senses in waves, and Wei Shubin felt thoroughly suffused with the scent before they’d traveled half the distance. Those lips painted with bright red rouge never stopped moving, but most of what was said went in Wei Shubin’s left ear and straight out her right, leaving no impression.
The Fifth Princess knew of Wei Shubin’s background and seemed to also know about her recent frequent movements between the palace temples and monasteries, understanding the matters of Yang Buyao’s childbirth. While carefully avoiding any mention of the newborn’s father, the Fifth Princess rambled on about various topics, chattering endlessly until she repeatedly mentioned “General Cheng,” which finally caught Wei Shubin’s wandering attention.
“General Cheng has arranged another marriage?”
“Haha, that’s exactly right! General Cheng is quite efficient in these matters, isn’t he?”
Cheng Yaojin truly lived up to his reputation as a famous general of the age—he approached marriage just like waging war. “Then congratulations are for General Cheng. Which young lady is it this time?”
“Young lady? Ha! She’s quite the mature woman, and someone we all know very well!” The Fifth Princess clapped her hands and slapped her knees with laughter. “General Cheng is going to marry that matchmaker Madam Cui as his replacement wife for the Duke of Suguo!”
Wei Shubin was first startled, then burst out laughing herself. This was truly delightful news worthy of universal celebration and widespread sharing.
According to the Fifth Princess, the current gossip circulating among the royal relatives and official families was this: after breaking off the engagement with the Wei family, General Cheng had invited Madam Cui to his home, still anxious to arrange a marriage with a woman of scholarly background who could manage the household. Madam Cui had received several generous matchmaking fees from the Cheng family and was quite enthusiastic in offering suggestions. The two found themselves compatible in conversation, first removing the screen between them, and then drinking wine together. As the evening wore on and they became tipsy, they found themselves increasingly drawn to each other. General Cheng slapped his thigh and proposed on the spot, completing their union that very night.
This match, Wei Shubin thought amidst her continued giggling in the carriage, was quite suitable.
Cheng Yaojin was from Dong’e in Shandong and, like her own father, placed great importance on family status. Madam Cui came from the Cui clan of Boling, one of the most prestigious eastern aristocratic families of the age. Although her reputation had suffered somewhat from her matchmaking activities among Chang’an’s official families, Cheng Yaojin’s reputation wasn’t much better… Before his rise to power, wasn’t he just a poor military man who had fought his way up alongside the current emperor?
The Cheng household was full of concubines and children—bringing in a young, inexperienced maiden as the primary wife would only result in chaos and infighting. Madam Cui, however, was well-versed in such matters from her frequent visits to noble households, her expertise far surpassing Wei Shubin’s in this regard. Given her age, she likely couldn’t bear more children, but Cheng Yaojin had no shortage of offspring—fewer children from a subsequent wife would not harm. Madam Cui’s children from her previous marriage could also benefit from having General Cheng as their stepfather. It was truly a perfect match from all angles.
Wei Shubin thought she should personally deliver congratulatory gifts when the Cheng household welcomed Madam Cui after the mourning period for Emperor Emeritus ended.
If only she could go together with… how wonderful that would be.
But no use thinking about it. By then, that person would likely be in Gaochang, becoming the son-in-law of a great Western kingdom, pursuing his lifelong ambitions. As for herself… she would spend her life with books and an oil lamp for company.
Cihe Temple wasn’t far from Fanglin Gate, and Wei Shubin was quite familiar with this route. After disembarking at the entrance, they walked toward Yang Buyao’s quarters. Following behind the Fifth Princess, Wei Shubin looked back to see Yang Xinzhi had also followed, his face anxious. Though tall and long-legged, Yang Xinzhi could easily have overtaken his stepmother the Fifth Princess, but he hesitated to breach etiquette by going ahead, fidgeting anxiously as he walked.
At the courtyard entrance to the quarters, a middle-aged man of handsome features and upright bearing came out to greet them, first bowing to Princess Guiyang and saying “Thank you for your trouble.” The Fifth Princess didn’t return the gesture, instead saying directly, “Yingniang isn’t at Zixu Temple, she’s returned to her family home. Fearing we’d be too late, I brought her disciple, the young lady of the Wei family—the eldest daughter of Minister Wei. You’re familiar with her father, so she’s not an outsider.”
Seeing the man’s appearance, Wei Shubin had already guessed he was Yang Shidao, the Fifth Prince Consort and Director of the Imperial Secretariat, and Yang Xinzhi’s father. She quickly performed the proper greeting for a niece’s generation. After they exchanged courtesies, Yang Xinzhi finally came forward to pay his respects.
Yang Shidao seemed to have just noticed his tall and robust son, frowning as he asked, “When did you return to Chang’an? What are you doing he—”
The final question remained unfinished, as he appeared to recall something, paused in confusion, and looked up at his wife, Princess Guiyang. The Fifth Princess had already turned away with her hands clasped, adopting an attitude of complete detachment.
“In response to Your Honor,” Yang Xinzhi raised his head from his kneeling position, his usually plump face showing a determination Wei Shubin had never seen before, “hearing that my mother was unwell, your son has come to pay respects to his birth mother.”
Yang Shidao appeared somewhat shocked, opened and closed his mouth without speaking, and turned again to look at the Fifth Princess. The Fifth Princess gave a cold laugh toward the sky, swept her gauze sleeves, and moved her corpulent frame away toward the temple’s main gate.
So what was going on with this family?
Was Yang Xinzhi directly acknowledging that he was Yang Buyao’s son? The son of former Prince Li Yuanji? Nine years ago, had he escaped the current emperor’s execution of his father and brothers, and was now claiming to be the heir of the Princess of Hailing? How would his imperial uncle, the current emperor, deal with this?
Wei Shubin’s head was spinning with confusion, doubt, shock, and fear. Yang Shidao stared at Yang Xinzhi for a while without speaking, then simply turned to lead the way into the inner chamber.
The inner chamber was heavy with the smell of medicine. A silver pot boiled on a red clay stove near the door, containing dark medicinal soup. A young girl with her hair in three buns crouched by the stove, preparing medicine while wiping away tears. Wei Shubin vaguely remembered her features—she seemed to be either the fourth or sixth daughter of Li Yuanji, born to Yang Buyao.
Inside the bedroom were another young woman and two or three serving maids. Yang Buyao lay with her black hair spread across the pillow, covered by a thin summer quilt, her jade complexion deathly pale, as a middle-aged nun fed her soup with trembling hands, spoon by spoon. Her newborn son was not in the room, and no one knew where he had been taken.
“Mother!”
Yang Xinzhi suddenly pushed past his father and rushed to kneel beside the bed.
“You… ah, what are you doing here…”