After the third watch, the capital had not yet quieted from the Lantern Festival’s fireworks and firecrackers when, from the northeastern corner of the imperial palace, the sound of bells suddenly rang out nine times. Temples in all directions responded in succession, the bell sounds echoing in the night of the capital, lingering endlessly.

The people living in the capital were not unfamiliar with such bell sounds.

All four city gates had already been placed under martial law. House after house extinguished their lanterns.

Before dawn, the entire city was covered in white mourning clothes, and crying could be heard everywhere.

Ci’er was also awakened from his sleep by the sound of these bells.

He sat up, leaned against Jiafu’s embrace, rubbing his eyes, still half-asleep, mumbling that it was dawn and he wanted to go see his grandfather.

Jiafu knew that at this moment, the court officials had already gathered outside the hall, waiting to escort the Imperial Grandson to succeed to the throne and become Emperor.

Cui Yinshui came in and stood waiting with his hands at his sides.

As the bells ceased, the sound of crying palace maids and eunuchs was faintly carried by the wind from outside. Although the crying was distant and intermittent, due to the stillness of the night, it still traveled inside.

Ci’er also heard it and seemed to understand what it meant. He immediately awoke, opening his eyes wide, and staring blankly at Jiafu.

The Emperor had been ill for a very long time. His grandfather had told him more than once that one day he would leave him, and when that time came, he did not want him to be sad—his grandfather wanted him to be a good Emperor of Great Wei.

Tears gradually welled up in Ci’er’s eyes.

Jiafu was filled with mixed emotions. She held her son’s tender body, wiped away his tears, personally helped him dress one garment at a time, carried him down from the bed, and finally embraced him tightly once more before letting go and handing him over to Cui Yinshui who was waiting nearby.

Cui Yinshui approached, knelt before Jiafu, kowtowed once, then rose and led Ci’er out, following behind him.

Jiafu stood there, watching as Ci’er looked back at her every few steps. She gazed at him, nodding slightly to him.

She and Pei You’an, since Ci’er’s birth seven years ago, had never had another child.

In the early years, Pei You’an had been traumatized by her difficult childbirth and was unwilling to let her risk it again. Being knowledgeable in medicine, he had somehow learned from some imperial physician which days of her monthly cycle were more likely to result in pregnancy and which were not. Later, she gradually figured out the pattern herself, but no matter how much she wanted another child, on those days when he wouldn’t sleep with her, she tried all sorts of tactics—coquetry, seduction, threats, coercion, or Fugned anger. He would either remain unmoved or, even if they did sleep together, he would never allow her to succeed. Her wish for another child remained unfulfilled.

In recent years, not only Pei You’an but also Jiafu herself had stopped thinking about having another child.

Although the couple had never explicitly discussed it, both Pei You’an and Jiafu had a tacit understanding from the day Ci’er was established as the Imperial Grandson.

Until Ci’er grew up, they would not have a second child.

They did not want Ci’er to feel the loneliness of abandonment, and they did not have extra love to give to another child besides Ci’er.

After tonight, her son would become the new Emperor of Great Wei.

When Ci’er first came into the world, she had never imagined that heaven had arranged such a path for her child.

Tonight, from the moment he stepped out through that hall door, Jiafu knew that on his future path of growth, there would inevitably be hardships, setbacks, and various crises that she could not yet foresee.

But Jiafu believed that one day, her son would surely advance step by step and finally become the great ruler that the late Emperor had hoped for.

Jiafu looked ahead until the small figure finally disappeared completely outside the hall.

…

Following the late Emperor’s edict, the seven-year-old Imperial Grandson ascended the throne. From the next year, the reign title would be changed to Yongyi. Before the young Emperor assumed personal rule, Pei You’an was designated as regent and allowed to approach the Emperor without kneeling.

Sharing this privilege were Zhang Shiyong and Liu Jiushao, who had also been summoned by the late Emperor in his final moments. One civil and one military, they would assist Pei You’an in supporting the young Emperor.

Three days after the late Emperor’s death, news of another death came from the Northern Garden: the deposed Empress Zhou, imprisoned for many years, had died. According to the late Emperor’s previous instructions, Lady Zhou would be buried in the imperial tomb with the honors of an Empress, and in the tomb, she would later be joined by the deceased imperial concubines. However, the late Emperor would not share a burial chamber with his consorts but would rest alone in the eastern part of the tomb. The mound built on the surface, when viewed from a distance on rainy days, stood between heaven and earth like a watching figure, facing toward the imperial Ci’en Temple, silent in the misty rain.

Although the late Emperor had left instructions for a simplified funeral, he was still the Son of Heaven. Even simplified, the funeral lasted for more than half a month. When the funeral was over and the twenty-seven days of deep mourning stipulated in the late Emperor’s edict had passed, the whole country removed their mourning clothes. The common people had not been much affected by the Emperor’s death, continuing marriages and entertainment without hindrance. As for the court, the late Emperor had already relinquished most governmental affairs in the past two years. Now, with the Grand Secretariat led by Pei You’an in charge, the transition was smooth. State affairs, after a brief pause during the national mourning period, resumed their normal flow.

Past events should be left in the past. People living in this world must always look forward.

Jiafu understood this principle. She knew Pei You’an understood it even more clearly.

Before the Emperor’s death, Pei You’an had returned and come before him, performing that formal kowtow.

In the eyes of the ministers who witnessed it at the time, Pei You’an’s action might have simply been out of gratitude for imperial favor.

But Jiafu knew that for Pei You’an, in his heart, from that moment on, he had truly let go.

Jiafu was not nearby at the time, and Pei You’an had not described the scene to her in detail, but Jiafu believed that the Emperor must have felt the same.

He must have understood the meaning of Pei You’an’s return and kowtow, a meaning known only between the two of them as sovereign and subject, father and son.

Sometimes, the greatest sound is silence; silence is more powerful than words.

The Emperor, in his final moment, must have received a ray of comfort he had long sought, allowing him to depart in peace.

…

After the national mourning period, the young Emperor ascended the throne. Pei You’an was busy day and night, leaving early and returning late. Sometimes, even in the middle of the night, if urgent reports arrived from the provinces, he had to hurriedly enter the palace.

During this time, Jiafu was also busy, with Tanxiang’s help, arranging belongings and shuttling between the Duke’s mansion and a residence located near the southeastern gate of the imperial city in Nanxun Ward, preparing to move on an auspicious day to make it more convenient for Pei You’an to enter and exit the imperial palace, and to reduce his suffering from travel during the winter.

Tanxiang had married Yang Yun several years ago and had given birth to a son. The couple had been faithfully assisting Pei You’an and Jiafu over the years.

As for the first and second branches of the Weiguo Duke’s household, they each presented different scenes in these years.

Three years ago, Pei Xiuzhi had mysteriously disappeared for a period and was only secretly brought back by Pei You’an himself half a year later. Lady Xin later learned that her son had been involved with the deposed Crown Prince’s rebellious faction. Despite his desperate pleading that he had been forced into it, if not for the Emperor’s consideration of her husband the Duke, and Pei You’an, he might have been charged with treason. She was terrified, and after that, seeing that her son was no longer his former self—dispirited, drunk all day, carrying only the empty title of Duke with no sign of any future, and with discord among his wives and concubines—she was constantly worried.

In contrast, the second branch had been sailing smoothly these years. Although Pei Quan himself had no great future in his official career, Pei Xiuluo had passed the imperial examination two years ago. Their in-laws, the Cao family, had seen the father-in-law promoted to Vice Minister of the Ministry of Personnel. What made Lady Xin secretly resentful was that Pei You’an, now serving as regent to the young Emperor with his power at its zenith—people privately called him “Minister Pei,” considered above ten thousand others with power over the court—while she was nominally his “step-mother,” her relationship with him and his wife remained awkward, neither cold nor warm. Over these years, the second branch had been flattering and fawning. Pei Xiuluo was extremely respectful to the couple, everywhere positioning himself as the brother of Minister Pei, socially adept with extensive connections, and greeted with smiles by all. Not only that, gradually, those wives of families with whom they usually associated seemed to all know that she, this “stepmother,” was estranged from her eldest son and his wife. Instead, it was the second branch’s Lady Meng, who was originally the maternal aunt of Pei You’an’s wife, who now had a good relationship with them. Those seeking connections all went to Second Lady Meng to cultivate relationships. Second Lady Meng was elated, her face full of smiles, causing Lady Xin to feel both secret hatred and envy, constantly worried and distracted, her temperament becoming increasingly strange, unable to sleep at night, prone to outbursts of anger, and her health gradually deteriorating.

The Duke title of the Pei family had long ago been transferred from Pei You’an to Pei Xiuzhi. With Pei Xiuzhi upholding the family’s facade, it was perfectly justified for Pei You’an to move out of the Duke’s mansion now for the convenience of his regency duties.

On the chosen day, after Jiafu had arranged everything, she moved from the Weiguo Duke’s mansion, where she had lived for many years, to the new residence.

She had been conducting the move quietly, not wanting to disturb others, but given her husband’s current position, her every move inevitably became the focus of attention for many noble ladies in the capital. As soon as they moved in, calling cards and visitors came in endless streams. Some, under the pretext of congratulating them on moving, sent various valuable gifts. Jiafu refused them all, not accepting a single coin. After being busy with such social obligations, spinning like a top for more than half a month, things finally settled down.

In the blink of an eye, it was mid-April, time for the grand sacrifice marking three full months since the late Emperor’s death. On this day, Pei You’an, representing the young Emperor, led a group of officials to the imperial tomb hundreds of li away from the capital to perform the memorial ceremony. This trip would take three or four days before he could return.

Jiafu was alone at home. By evening, second Lady Meng arrived uninvited, bringing Jiafu some dried bamboo shoots and other local products, saying her in-laws had brought them from her hometown. She thought of Jiafu and brought some over, saying, “Sister-in-law, I know you never accept valuable things. Fortunately, these are not expensive, just a token of my regard. After eating dragon liver and phoenix marrow, you and You’an can try something new. If you like them, I have more at home and can bring them over next time.”

Jiafu thanked her and accepted them. Since it was dinnertime, she invited her to stay for the evening meal. After dinner, it was already dark, but Lady Meng’s interest in conversation had not diminished. She talked about this and that with Jiafu, finally mentioning that Pei You’an would be away from home for a few days, and sighed, “You’an now holds a high position and great power, so it’s inevitable that he has many matters to attend to. But it always leaves you alone, which pains even me to see…”

She held Jiafu’s hand and said softly, “Afang, I am both your sister-in-law and your maternal aunt. I see you as my daughter, which is why I’m telling you this. You and You’an have been married for many years. The child you had in the frontier years ago was unfortunately lost, and so many years have passed, yet your belly has shown no signs. I’ve been quite anxious and have been looking out for you. Some days ago, I heard of an extremely efficacious temple where women who sincerely go to pray all give birth to sons within a year or so of returning. Why don’t I take you there? You can give it a try. If it works after you return, wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

Jiafu smiled and said, “Thank you, Aunt. When I have time, I’ll trouble you to take me there.”

Second Lady Meng was intent on securing another position for her son through Pei You’an. Seeing that the couple had not had another child for many years, she thought they were trying without success, so she had been inquiring everywhere and finally heard about that temple. She had hoped to please Jiafu, but seeing her lukewarm attitude, she felt somewhat disappointed. Just as she was about to persuade her further, one of her servants rushed in with a panicked expression. She was irritated and was about to scold him for his lack of manners when the servant fell to his knees with a thud, kowtowing and saying, “Madam, something terrible has happened! There’s a fire at home, the Third Young Master is missing, the Second Master is not home, and the Third Mistress has sent me to tell you to return quickly!”

Pei Quan was also among those making the sacrificial visit to the tomb, so he was not at home these days.

Second Lady Meng was greatly shocked and abruptly stood up.

Although Jiafu did not like the current members of the Pei family, the kindness that the Old Lady and the Duke had shown to Pei You’an was enough to outweigh the faults of these people. Hearing that something had happened to the Pei family, how could she possibly stand aside? She hurriedly brought several servants and accompanied second Lady Meng in a carriage, hastily rushing to the Duke’s mansion. Even several streets away, they could see the fire’s glow in the direction of the Pei mansion. The street intersection was blocked by onlookers, making it impossible for the carriage to enter. People from the Five Guards Command, knowing the Pei family’s mansion was on fire, dared not neglect their duty and had already rushed over with water pumps to fight the fire and disperse the onlookers, finally reopening the road.

When Jiafu arrived at the Pei family, the fire had already been contained and was gradually extinguished after burning through the connected buildings where it had started. But what she saw next astonished her.

The fire had started in a storeroom in the rear wing, normally used for storing fine silks, and the third son, Pei Xiuluo, had reportedly been locked inside. By the time the servants heard his cries for help and managed to rescue him, his face had been burned badly, and he had inhaled smoke and lost consciousness. The Third Mistress was kneeling beside him, weeping inconsolably. When Lady Meng saw her son in such a state, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed to the ground.

Jiafu quickly dispatched someone in her name to urgently summon an imperial physician skilled in treating burns. When the physician arrived and administered treatment, applying ointment to the burned areas of his body, Pei Xiuluo finally regained consciousness, lying there barely alive.

Second Lady Meng, gritting her teeth, demanded to know who had locked him in the storeroom. Pei Xiuluo’s eyes were vacant, and his throat had been damaged by the smoke and fire. His lips moved, but he could not speak.

The Third Mistress cried, “The servants said they saw a maid from the second sister-in-law’s side looking for the Third Young Master in the evening. It must be connected to them! Elder Sister-in-law, I beg you, please help my Third Young Master get justice!”

The Third Mistress wept and pleaded with Jiafu incessantly.

Second Lady Meng, seeing her once handsome and refined son burned to such a state, knew that even if he survived, he would be like a cripple for the rest of his life, unable to ever hold office again. Years of nurturing were destroyed in an instant. Thinking of her son’s hopelessness for the rest of his life, it was as if her heart had been torn out. With tears streaming down her face, she gritted her teeth: “Well! Those black-hearted people—their son uselessly occupying the ancestral title, a hopeless case, and now they can’t bear to see my son doing well. Afang, please be a witness for your aunt. Even if it costs me my life, I must seek justice for my son!”

Second Lady Meng wiped away her tears, told her daughter-in-law to take good care of her son, and led a group of servants and maids angrily toward the first branch’s quarters. Halfway there, she saw Pei Xiuzhi approaching, his face flushed red, his steps unsteady, reeking of alcohol. With a thick tongue, he said, “Second Aunt… how is Third Brother…” Before he could finish, second Lady Meng spat directly in his face and pushed him away.

Pei Xiuzhi staggered backward several steps, fell to the ground, and passed out from drunkenness, motionless.