He couldn’t remain long in the capital because the Emperor wouldn’t allow it. The spring silkworms had all formed cocoons, and the hundred-plus looms in Nanyuan couldn’t just sit idle. Soon the rice would also need harvesting, and the capital was still waiting for him to arrange grain relief. The court had previously sent officials south to handle such matters, but they were utterly useless—the common people only trusted the Prince of Nanyuan. So the south couldn’t function without him.
The Emperor’s words hit the mark: “The Yuwen clan holds hereditary titles, passed down unchanged for over two hundred years—the people recognize the face. Since you hold the position, you must fulfill its duties. Though this princely title can’t be taken away, the official cap isn’t exclusively yours. The Yuwen clan produces capable men—the old prince has so many sons, any one of them could handle the job. If Liangshi keeps refusing to return to his post, don’t obstruct other brothers’ advancement. The court appointing someone else to take over isn’t impossible either.”
In the end, the situation had shifted to choosing between wife and official position. Don’t think the Emperor was confused—he knew how to apply pressure, understood psychological warfare. When shrewd, no one was his match.
Wanwan couldn’t bear to part with Liangshi, yet was helpless. She deeply understood how important status was to a man. Asking him to abandon such a large domain as Nanyuan to become merely her humble prince consort—never mind what he thought, even she felt sorry for him.
Unwilling to make things difficult for him, she could only urge his return. “I’ll be fine. You’ve seen this mansion is well-built—spacious with beautiful scenery. Everyone around me is devoted. Don’t worry. Return to Nanyuan—we’ll have our day of reunion. Surely the Emperor won’t force us to divorce? I’m just sad not knowing when you can come again. Wait a while—I’ll petition the Emperor. When the child is about to be born, let him permit you to come to the capital to see the child and attend my confinement.”
Only then did his face show a smile. “I’ll also submit a memorial then. If the Emperor understands human feelings, he won’t prevent our reunion at such a time. If really pushed to the limit, I’ll give up that title entirely.” He gripped her hand firmly. “Wanwan, before you give birth, our matter must reach a resolution. You must wait for me—I’ll spare no cost to bring you back to my side.”
She embraced his waist, choking with emotion, unable to speak. She didn’t know if passion had an expiration date, only that she and he had truly loved for just three or four months—precisely when they were first tasting sweetness, inseparable as glue. Having their connection so harshly severed, perhaps even her mother who had taught her to hang red silk on flower trees never imagined that ultimately obstructing her marriage would be Gaogong. “Why such urgency in mutual torment?”—the imperial family’s fraternal killing existed not only between brothers, but apparently between siblings too.
Unable to let go yet forced to separate, her heart felt tortured. Her hands slowly slid down from his shoulders, lovingly adjusting his collar, then his belt. Seeing the gourd ornament hanging from his Seven Necessities pouch, she caressed the bat pattern repeatedly. “My needlework isn’t good enough—I’ve never embroidered you a pouch. Next time—when we meet again—I’ll definitely give you a complete set.”
He said good, “But no need for a set—just make one. Don’t strain your eyes; rest more when you have time. That’s more important than any gift.”
He still left. She couldn’t care about her princess dignity, seeing him off all the way to the main gate. Watching him ride away with his whip raised, she stood in the autumn wind with tears streaming down her face. Later chatting with Tonghuan and the others, she said she owed a debt of tears—this year’s crying surpassed the total of her previous fifteen years.
Actually women are vulnerable. No matter how high their status, psychologically they need someone to depend on. Without Liangshi, she felt incomplete. Sometimes when clan women visited her and she heard them speak of husbands and children, she was secretly envious. Meeting tactless ones who asked why she didn’t return to Nanyuan, she could only claim she preferred giving birth in Beijing to save face.
“Jiangnan is humid—I don’t adapt well there, always getting rashes on my arms. Now pregnant and unable to take medicine carelessly, the Emperor pities me and let me return to the capital to nurture the pregnancy. After the child is born, returning to Nanyuan won’t be too late.”
Saying this, her face showed embarrassment. She’d never liked lying since childhood. Speaking with open eyes against truth, before others could even go along with her words, she’d already blushed with shame.
“Actually they all know. When I say this, they probably all laugh at me behind my back.” She complained to Yu Qixia. “Why do I put gold on my own face? Clearly I’m under house arrest, yet I still beautify the situation.”
Yu Qixia said: “Your Highness has great wisdom, knowing complaints solve no problems. What you can do now is endure humiliation with the Prince. Throughout history, there have been countless tragic princesses and prince consorts. Your current circumstances aren’t yet terrible. As long as you can persevere, someday you’ll see through the clouds to blue sky.”
She nodded. “I know Princess Ningguo’s story. Her brother usurped the throne while her husband Mei Yin remained loyal to the former lord. The new ruler forced the princess to write a blood letter summoning her husband to court. Receiving the letter, he wept bitterly, then at Daqiao Bridge was ambushed and pushed into water to drown… That was another princess and prince consort’s lifetime. Compared to them, I shouldn’t have any resentment.”
Once accepting this, her spirit calmed. For those at power’s peak, wanting a perfect marriage was inherently difficult. Ordinary families fought bloodily over small fortunes; imperial families faced life-or-death stakes at every turn. Comparatively, temporary spousal separation was nothing!
Wanwan’s body grew heavier daily. She stayed secluded in the mansion, no longer asking about whatever new troubles her brother caused.
For instance, when he elevated Tongyun to Noble Consort, she received the news with ordinary expression. After the Great and Small Ryukyu campaign ended, Tan Jin led the navy back to court. The memorial listing fallen officers included Xiao Duo’s name. The Emperor mourned for half a day, sighing deeply: “With the Depot Minister’s death, I’ve lost an arm.” Two days later he enfeoffed the hero’s wife to fulfill his duty of providing for the widow. Upon hearing this news, people merely smiled and called him a sentimental emperor—what else could they say? What else could they do?
“Great Ye’s national fortune—who knows what direction it will take. I’ve urged him to govern diligently several times, but he seems quite impatient, probably tired of hearing it. Honest advice sounds harsh; saying too much breeds hatred. In the end he’ll blame everything on me—wouldn’t I be lifting a rock to drop on my own feet!” She sat by the window doing needlework—pouches and sachets for Liangshi, plus the saddlebags their Qi people loved using. Every stitch and thread held longing. Working long hours, the sun gradually shifted, shining on her hands with dazzling golden light. She moved slightly aside. Tonghuan told her to rest, and she agreed while switching from the embroidery hoop to small clothes for the child.
Carefully calculating conception time—around Dragon Boat Festival—birth should be in next year’s February. February required lined garments. She worked very carefully, embroidering flowers on the hems. Whether girl or boy, she would love the child deeply.
Xiao You said Her Highness seemed like a different person, unlike before. Wanwan paused to consider, still remembering those days in Yude Palace when she’d close doors in the afternoon to sing opera, so absorbed she forgot herself, as if she were the only person in the world. How wonderful to have no attachments. She sighed. “I’m out of options. Now I either do needlework or cry. Would you rather watch me cry?”
So needlework it was. She had a box where she kept all the little things prepared for Liangshi—pouches made one after another, neatly arranged. But too much immersion strained her eyes, and constantly hunching over was indeed bad for the child. On clear, bright days, she enjoyed wandering around the mansion.
The mansion was vast; some areas she’d rarely visited. Without a man to anchor the household, it always felt somewhat desolate. Fortunately there were many capable people, each duty having corresponding supervisors. So apart from her inner loneliness, the Grand Princess Mansion still appeared magnificently prosperous.
She strolled at will. Leaving the second gate meant entering another world. Silver Peace Hall was every princely mansion’s facade—unlike the exquisite rear quarters, it had to be built grandly and solemnly. Residences of princely rank had specialized configurations, just as she, ranking equivalent to Three Dukes, had ceremonial escorts when going out. Inside the second gate were clusters of flowers; outside was stern backbone. The mansion’s military officers had duty rooms. When she passed, those standing guard bowed from afar. She nodded slightly and walked around them. Sometimes she encountered Jin Shi. This Embroidered Uniform Guard captain had an unsmiling face and would bluntly ask each time: “Does Your Highness wish to go out?” Wanwan gave no pleasant expression, saying coldly: “When going out, I’ll naturally have someone notify you. Captain Jin needn’t worry about my running away.”
But this day when he approached, his words differed from before. He said: “Your Highness should go out for walks. Fragrant Hills’ maple leaves have all turned red. If Your Highness is willing, this subject will immediately gather men to escort Your Highness sightseeing.”
Probably everyone thought she wasn’t quite normal now—even this person responsible for guarding her pitied her. Wanwan smiled mockingly. “Isn’t the Captain afraid the Emperor will blame him if he finds out?”
Jin Shi avoided her gaze, bowing his head. “The Emperor ordered us to protect Your Highness. As long as Your Highness is safe, the Emperor won’t blame us.”
Fragrant Hills’ red leaves must be beautiful, but unfortunately Liangshi wasn’t beside her. Even if the mountains were romantically splendid, it meant nothing to her. She shook her head, saying next time—pausing to consider, next time would probably be next year. How could she possibly still be in Beijing next autumn? She’d definitely have returned to Nanyuan.
Tonghuan also supported her going out. “Is Your Highness afraid of jolting? From the city to Fragrant Hills is somewhat far, but the road isn’t difficult. This servant will make the cushions extra thick afterward. We’ll go slowly—there shouldn’t be any harm.”
She thought about it and wavered somewhat, smiling as she said fine. “Light travel, just a quick look and return… Always staying cooped up indoors, my heart’s growing moldy.”
From the Princess Mansion to Fragrant Hills was roughly fifty li. If making a same-day round trip, they might not manage it. She said light travel, but in the end couldn’t simplify it—not one escort was omitted. However, they changed the Embroidered Uniform Guards’ official robes to ordinary civilian clothes to avoid attracting attention.
Wanwan didn’t know if anyone reported her movements to the imperial presence, but she left Beijing without difficulty. She brought Tonghuan and Xiao You, plus two nannies. Once people left that environment and no longer felt oppressed, they discovered outside was crisp autumn weather—suddenly October had arrived.
The carriage moved very slowly. Fearing his subordinates might be inadequate, Jin Shi personally drove, extremely cautious throughout. Wanwan’s opinion of the Embroidered Uniform Guards also improved. Previously she’d often heard they randomly arrested and tortured people, thinking these killing machines were all bloodless and heartless. Now it seemed not entirely so. At least those at her mansion weren’t responsible for prisons and shouldn’t have so many lives on their hands.
Fifty li of slow travel required most of the day. When the carriage climbed the mountain slope, it was time of infinite sunset. Maple leaves covering the mountains blazed like fire under angry clouds. Sitting in the carriage looking out, her heart felt grand shock along with indescribable bleakness and desolation. After this season passed, those leaves would gradually fall, dropping into soil to rot and decay until becoming dust. People were the same—flourishing briefly before withering away, worse than these maple leaves.
She still couldn’t summon interest, leaning by the window for two incense sticks’ duration. Her somewhat pale face never showed good color. Initially her eyes held joyful light that quickly extinguished, leaving her listless and infinitely lonely.
Seeing her expression, Jin Shi knew comforting words weren’t his place to say, so he bowed: “This subject has sent advance notice to Tranquil Garden. If Your Highness is tired, please rest in the garden.”
Tranquil Garden was an imperial park where previous dynasties’ emperors and consorts occasionally stayed briefly. But reaching her second brother, whose entire world was enclosed in West Sea—able to spiritually travel the world without leaving home—this park had long been cast behind his heels.
Wanwan nodded, then turned to add: “This Fragrant Hills trip, the Captain arranged very properly. Let me guess—everything was actually the Emperor’s instruction, wasn’t it?”
Jin Shi was silent before finally nodding. By his authority as a mere Embroidered Uniform Guard captain, he lacked the boldness to encourage the Grand Princess to go sightseeing. However absurd the Emperor might be, he still loved this sister. Setting aside major state affairs, sibling relations had never reached such extremes. His imperial command had left his sister alone; he could only do his utmost to make her happy. Going out to see scenery was the only good solution that brain stuffed with moral philosophy could devise.
Wanwan couldn’t define her feelings, nor describe her emotions toward this brother. Resent him? Certainly, but they shared the same mother and grew up together—however much hatred, how far could it go!
Since she’d come, she might as well settle in. After viewing the maple leaves, she’d first enter the garden to rest. Originally wanting to burn incense at Fragrant Hills Temple, seeing time wasn’t early, she might as well compete for tomorrow’s first incense.
She stayed in Mind-Seeing Studio. Having come with Father before, she was familiar with this Jiangnan garden-style courtyard. Having traveled to Jinling, now returning here and seeing these blue tiles and white walls brought different flavors to her heart. Xiao You and Tonghuan tidied inside while she stood at the door briefly, her heart empty, slowly pacing along the covered corridor. Not far ahead was Spectacles Lake—she remembered that pond of ornamental carp where she’d once fished with her two brothers. Her crab-catching skills were childhood foundation laid then.
Spectacles Lake was named for its shape. Though over ten years had passed and the garden had gradually declined, revisiting old places still evoked former memories. Standing on the pavilion looking down, the ornamental carp in the water had decreased considerably—thin and small, only a few sparse fish. Moss grew abundantly around the pond’s edge, showing none of past glory—evoking imperial twilight panic. She hazily conceived a notion, momentarily feeling this realm’s fate was truly ending. Staring blankly at the pond, suddenly large ripples formed at the bottom as muddy sediment like ink tumbled up, startling the carp to scatter. She also panicked, stepping back in alarm, but her feet slipped and she suddenly fell backward.
This fall would likely cause disaster. Panic-stricken, she instinctively tried to grab something, but the railing was too far—she couldn’t reach it. Thinking she couldn’t escape calamity, unexpectedly someone behind supported her. In her dizzy confusion she cried in fright, ears ringing with buzzing sounds. Being terrified to the extreme felt exactly like this.
The person above asked if she was all right. Her hands and feet trembling wildly, she covered her belly to check—seemingly no major harm. Only then did she clearly see who had caught her—that Embroidered Uniform Guard Captain Jin Shi. She hurriedly struggled to stand, steadying her breathing to say she was fine, tears still hanging on her face. At this moment she missed Liangshi beyond self-control.
Jin Shi watched her restrain herself for a long while before finally covering her face and wailing. Her silhouette in the sunset was big-bellied yet so frail. Unfortunately, all he could do was show compassionate expression and quietly stand guard.