How the Emperor would handle this matter, no one knew. They only knew the couple had reunited, and this moment brought unprecedented satisfaction. As for the problems they would face next, they temporarily set aside such considerations—thinking about it was useless, bringing only more distress and nothing else.
Wanwan pulled him into the back courtyard and personally prepared a towel for him to wash his face. While he was cleaning up, she watched from the side, as if afraid he would fly away with a blink of her eyes, her gaze full of deep attachment.
He unbuttoned his collar to wash his neck, smiling somewhat bashfully. “I haven’t cleaned up for four days—I’m terribly dirty. I should have arrived earlier, but encountered heavy rain in Baoding Prefecture, which delayed me for most of the day.” He stood and embraced her. “Were you anxious waiting?”
She shook her head, then nodded. “I thought you’d arrive yesterday, but you didn’t come even by midnight. I was afraid—afraid you’d forgotten our agreed time and would never come again.”
He just smiled. “Silly words. I prepared long ago. I wanted to set out earlier, but feared that missing you too urgently would still mean traveling day and night. If you stayed too briefly in the capital, the Emperor would be displeased, which wouldn’t be good. This timing is just right. Tomorrow at dawn I’ll request an audience with the Emperor to take you back to Nanjing.”
While he spoke, she couldn’t help feeling heartsick. Afraid of crying constantly and making him feel bad, she turned to instruct Xiao You: “Where are the clothes prepared for His Highness? Bring them so His Highness can change.” She helped him sit down and asked if he was weary from the journey.
He said it was nothing. “Men aren’t like you ladies. Our children are resilient—we’ve been trained this way since childhood. My previous trips to the capital were the same. When traveling, my heart still worried about Nanyuan affairs. Only by hurrying could I avoid wasting time on the road.”
Wanwan remembered that winter solstice day last year when he had rushed thousands of li to the capital, accompanied the Emperor in sacrificing to heaven and earth, then been ordered by her to stand as punishment in wind and snow for two hours. Recalling it now, she felt she had been inconsiderate and owed him greatly.
But too embarrassed to say it aloud, she crouched down. “Let me massage your legs.”
Just as she was about to kneel, he helped her up. “That won’t do—don’t harm the child.” While speaking, he placed his hand over her belly. “From now on, you can’t run like you did earlier—it’s too dangerous. Remember that?” Under her garments, a slight swelling was already visible. He touched very carefully, saying softly, “Growing well, though it’s rather pitiful—so small yet already experiencing upheaval away from home. If not for this incident, you and your mother would both be beside Father. Our whole family would be happy together, and you wouldn’t have to endure such fears.”
He spoke to the child while Wanwan’s face bore a smile. “I’ve returned to visit relatives, so the Emperor shouldn’t find fault. Let’s pack up and leave the day after tomorrow.”
If only it could be so, allowing them to return smoothly. Actually, sometimes the Emperor’s decisions truly weren’t wise. Forcibly separating them was tantamount to driving him to rebellion. Several times, unable to find peace at midnight, he had suddenly jumped up, planning to immediately mobilize troops. But what would be the consequence of acting without considering outcomes? It would give Prince Zhen’an and Prince Wusi a good opportunity, providing them excuse to unite and eliminate him entirely. To seize the realm required both timing and favorable circumstances. The gun shoots the bird that sticks its head out—why should he sacrifice himself to create opportunities for others? So he must endure. Among the three princes, whoever could remain most composed would laugh last.
But the character for “endure” has a knife over the heart—this time he truly felt that pain. Wanwan was full of hope; he couldn’t let her down, nor dared analyze the situation for her. Whether he could take her back this time remained unknown. That emperor who was sometimes shrewd, sometimes mad—no one could fathom his thoughts.
He could only hold her, letting her sit on his lap. She was so good, preparing food and clothing for him like an ordinary wife. He hadn’t slept for days, yet now felt no fatigue whatsoever. Fearing their time together would be too brief, even sleep had become a luxury he dared not indulge.
They had originally planned to share the Mid-Autumn feast together, but that table setting remained untouched in the courtyard. Having someone bring a kang table, they ate simply, then reclined together on the arhat couch by the window. The moon was large and round, hanging in the center of heaven, illuminating their anxious hearts. Wanwan had him pillow his head on her lap, stroking him repeatedly like she did those two little squirrels.
“When we first married, I was completely unwilling to marry you.” She looked down at him. “But now, I don’t regret it.”
He hummed in acknowledgment. “Why?”
She grinned, revealing a row of pearly white teeth. “Because in this world, besides you, no one else is worthy of me. I often think, if I’d had a different prince consort, who knows what things would be like now…”
“Perhaps you’d be peacefully drinking wine with him, watching the moon.” He said somewhat despondently. “No need to worry about forced separation, no need to endure great storms. Wanwan, sometimes I regret too—I shouldn’t have been so determined to marry a princess. I ended up harming you, leaving you so desolate and alone.”
But Wanwan didn’t like this. “You regret marrying me, don’t you?”
He hurried to refute, but she covered his eyes. “Enough, sleep a while. We have plenty of time to talk—no need to rush in a single day.”
He was truly exhausted. Thinking to rest briefly, he ended up sleeping until dawn.
That night passed peacefully. The Embroidered Uniform Guards had reported to West Sea, but the Emperor was probably busy with cultivation and paid no attention. Wanwan and he rose early together for an audience, but waited all morning in Taisu Hall. Only at midday did Chong Mau appear, smiling as he greeted them and invited the Prince Consort to speak in Ninghe Hall on the eastern shore.
Calling him alone, Wanwan’s heart churned anxiously. She wanted to question Chong Mau, but he gave her a reassuring look, telling her to wait quietly here while he went and returned.
Chong Mau led him across Nine-Hole Bridge, appearing very respectful in attitude, but after all was the Emperor’s closest attendant. He had once tried to sound him out but found him difficult to buy off, so abandoned the idea. They walked in silence all the way. Only after leaving the bridge did he hear Chong Mau say: “Your Highness, be careful. His Majesty’s dragon countenance is displeased today. Please be cautious and avoid angering His Majesty.”
Liangshi had an ominous premonition and cupped his hands to thank him for the warning.
As they spoke, they entered Ninghe Hall. He had thought West Sea was the Emperor’s cultivation site, and the Emperor who emphasized unity between heaven and man shouldn’t be so solemn. Unexpectedly, upon entering the hall he saw him wearing the dragon robe, crowned with the winged good crown, sitting upright with a face full of murderous intent.
He was startled, lifted his robe and knelt. “Your subject Yuwen Liangshi respectfully requests Your Majesty’s sacred well-being.”
The Emperor didn’t grant permission to rise, instead descended from the precious throne and walked step by step before him. Those black shoes embroidered with golden dragons entered his field of vision. He frowned and lowered his head further. Only after a long while did he hear the Emperor say to rise. “The Prince Consort has quite an urgent temperament. I heard you arrived at the Grand Princess Mansion yesterday, spending only three or four days on the road?”
He bowed and confirmed. “Because Her Highness is with child, this subject was restless in Nanyuan. Therefore without Your Majesty’s summons, I entered the capital. Please forgive my transgression, Your Majesty.”
The Emperor sighed. “What in the world is most bitter? Missing someone is most bitter. I’m not someone who doesn’t understand feelings. Your coming to see Wanwan shows your marital affection. Moreover, when Wanwan married down, I granted you the privilege of entering the capital at will. Today I won’t punish your crime either. However, as a prince, your thousand-li dash prompted unanimous impeachment from the Cabinet when reported to me. They said you show no respect for your sovereign and act recklessly, putting me in a difficult position. Next time, be more careful. Though you’re now my brother-in-law, charging about recklessly lacks proper decorum. If people report you to the imperial presence again, I won’t be able to show you consideration.”
Don’t think the Emperor was confused most of the time—he thoroughly understood the technique of slapping then offering a sweet date. Liangshi acknowledged this. “This subject also feared causing others to look askance. This trip to the capital, I brought only two attendants. I also had a memorial sent to the Ceremonial Directorate—I wonder if Your Majesty has reviewed it?”
The Emperor put his hands behind his back and sighed deeply. “The Ceremonial Directorate… is in chaos right now. Xiao Duo’s life or death is unknown, the Director position vacant—this isn’t proper… In your opinion, who would be suitable to fill the vacancy?”
This question was strange. He understood clearly that he absolutely couldn’t continue this line of conversation, or who knew what trouble might arise.
He bowed. “Your Majesty, forgive this subject’s dullness. This subject is far away in Jinling. Besides having met Director Xiao a few times, I’m not well acquainted with the other Senior Secretaries of the Ceremonial Directorate. When Your Majesty asks my opinion, I truly cannot answer.”
The Emperor laughed heartily, not taking it to heart. “True enough. My asking this puts you in a difficult position. Whether you know them is secondary—the Ceremonial Director wields great power. You’re a cautious person who can’t invite trouble for yourself without cause.” He paused. “The situation with disaster victims along the Huaining line—I’ve been informed. You handled it well; the court should reward you. However, the people are Great Ye’s people, Jiangnan is Great Ye’s granary. How to provide relief still requires your efforts there. I won’t hide from you—last year’s excessive rain flooded crops in many places with no harvest. This year the capital’s granaries contain old rice; even the palace is the same. To have the court provide grain and silver when state coffers are empty is impossible to arrange. Nanyuan is my right arm—I still need you to share my burdens.”
In the end, it all came down to one thing: the Emperor wanted to reign while avoiding responsibility. Being such a peaceful emperor—one person enjoying while the whole realm doesn’t starve—was rather wonderful.
He hadn’t come to discuss Huaining’s future. Ultimately, it was just for Wanwan alone. After this long detour, he said deliberately: “This subject understands the court’s current difficulties. Whatever this subject can manage, I absolutely dare not trouble Your Majesty. This year’s autumn harvest in Jiangnan—I don’t know how the yield was. If after excluding disaster grain there’s still surplus, this subject will find ways to send some tribute grain to the capital to help resolve urgent needs.”
The Emperor was delighted to hear this, striking right to his heart. “Jiangzhe, Henan, and northern Shaanxi are all the realm’s granaries, but the other two regions are in shambles. We can only depend on your Nanyuan.”
He acknowledged this, then continued: “This subject came this time to take Her Highness the Grand Princess back to Nanyuan. Because Her Highness is pregnant, the Dowager Consort at home worries day and night, insisting Her Highness remain nearby for close care. If Your Majesty grants permission, this subject will depart with Her Highness tomorrow. We came by waterway and will return by waterway—Her Highness won’t be made to suffer.”
The Emperor had been pleasant because of the tribute grain settlement, but as soon as he mentioned taking Wanwan back, his face immediately fell eight zhang long. He flatly refused: “Impossible. Having endured upheaval once is enough—how can there be a second time! Though waterways are better than land routes, you’ve also seen that after half a month in the capital, she hasn’t recovered much. Another round of traveling—I fear her body can’t withstand it. If you truly love her, you must prioritize her safety. Why rush to return to Nanyuan? After the child is born, you can come fetch her then.”
He had long expected this outcome. This emperor had no other abilities, but setting traps was crystal clear. What he truly wanted to detain wasn’t Wanwan at all—it was his child. Not allowing them to leave now, once a son was born, he’d be even less likely to let go.
He steeled his heart, determined to argue this once no matter what. The subordinate generals might be shocked and amazed if they knew, thinking him reckless for love and ignoring the big picture, but he couldn’t care about all that. He knew the Emperor still had use for him and wouldn’t do anything to him for now. If he could win this argument, it would be like finding a bargain—even losing all face would be worth it.
“Why doesn’t Your Majesty listen to Her Highness’s wishes? This subject and Her Highness have deep feelings. Her Highness is precisely when she needs this subject most. Leaving her alone in the capital—this subject cannot bear it.”
The Emperor’s eyes flashed with storm and thunder, glaring fiercely at him. “Prince of Nanyuan, don’t forget your place. What do you mean ‘alone’? Am I not a person? Is the Empress Dowager in the palace not a person? Wanwan was born in the capital, raised in the capital. Just because she married down to you doesn’t mean she’s forgotten her roots. You speak of listening to her wishes—I tell you, absolutely unnecessary! I know best what kind of temperament she has as her brother. She’s face-conscious with a soft heart. If something went wrong from reluctant compliance, could you bear that responsibility? So I refuse. I have only this one sister—she must remain in the capital for childbirth. Other matters can be discussed later.”
Refusing completely in one breath, Liangshi grew anxious. Seeing him about to leave, he took two steps forward. “If so, this subject humbly requests to remain in the capital to accompany my wife and child. I hope Your Majesty will grant this.”
The Emperor turned back and looked at him coldly. “Liangshi, I never knew you were someone so devoted to romantic feelings. What would you do staying in the capital? Not manage Nanyuan’s government affairs? So many matters await your handling. Do your duty for me properly. Wanwan is my own sister—do you fear I’ll mistreat her?”
Wanting the horse to run while not feeding it—this was the Emperor’s wishful thinking. Though he had prepared for this, he was still shocked by his shamelessness. What more could you say to such a person? In anger, he declared loudly: “I request Your Majesty withdraw this command and fulfill the wishes of Liangshi and his wife.”
The Emperor swept his sleeves and left without hesitation. Chong Mau hurried to follow. After a few steps, he looked back and said softly: “Your Majesty, that Prince of Nanyuan is stubborn—he’s kneeling at the bottom of the steps.”
Hearing this, the Emperor became even more furious. “Let him kneel! I want to see whether my imperial decree is harder or his kneecaps are harder! Listen well—without my command, no one is permitted to let him rise. I want him to know that kneeling down is easy, but standing up requires my permission. If he really kneels to death there, that would be fine—I’ll find Wanwan another prince consort. I won’t let his son be fatherless.”
Chong Mau responded with repeated acknowledgments. “It looks like the weather’s changing again—shall we have him kneel in the rain?”
The Emperor paid no mind, striding out with hands behind his back toward Yingcui Hall.
Meanwhile, Wanwan waited a long time without Liangshi’s return, pacing anxiously in circles.
“Could he have been invited to a banquet? Kept for a feast?” She turned to ask Yu Qixia. “Is the Emperor so good-natured? When did he and the Prince become so close? I hope nothing has happened!”
Yu Qixia hesitated. “Perhaps they’re discussing state affairs. Your Highness, please don’t worry. This subject will have someone go look.”
Before Mid-Autumn, autumn had already arrived, but when weather changed there were still rumbling thunders rolling from one end of the sky to the distant horizon. Wanwan stood on the celestial street before Taisu Hall as a gust of wind swept over, carrying raindrops. She gazed into the distance. The eunuch Yu Qixia had entrusted pressed his black gauze hat and hurried up the long embankment. West Sea covered considerable ground—from south to north across a large stretch of lake required quite a while for a round trip.
Rain at this season came without warning, pouring down in the blink of an eye. When that eunuch returned, he was soaked like a drowned chicken, shivering as he pointed east. “The Prince Consort is kneeling in punishment on the celestial street before Ninghe Hall. I don’t know why—Your Highness should go look quickly!”