In her deep slumber, the Old Madam felt her hand being grasped by another strong hand.

That hand, due to the swift ride through the snowy night, had now become damp and burning hot.

She slowly opened her eyes and gradually recognized the person holding her hand. Her dim eyes instantly brightened.

“Grandmother! Grandmother! Your unfilial grandson has returned too late—”

Pei You’an knelt before the bed, calling out repeatedly, tightly gripping her hand, as if wanting to transfer the strength from his body to hers through this connection.

The Old Madam gazed steadily at his face. After a moment, her eyes slowly turned, as if searching for something, until finally seeing Jiafu nearby. A look of contentment appeared on her face as she gestured for her to come closer.

Jiafu held back her tears that were about to fall and approached, kneeling beside Pei You’an.

The Old Madam withdrew her hand, laboriously raised her arm, grabbed one of Jiafu’s hands, drew it over, and placed it in Pei You’an’s palm.

Behind them came the sound of hurried footsteps. Pei Quan, Madam Xin, Second Madam, Pei Xiuzhi, Pei Xiuluo, Zhou Jiao’e, the wet nurse with Quan’er, as well as those clan women who had been keeping vigil these past few nights knowing the Old Madam was failing—all came rushing in upon hearing the news. The room became filled with people.

The Old Madam’s gaze passed over each grief-stricken face in turn, finally returning to Jiafu and Pei You’an. She focused on them for a moment, then gently patted the two hands stacked together—one large, one small. A faint smile appeared at the corners of her lips before she slowly closed her eyes, her expression serene.

After a brief deathly silence, someone in the back began to cry, and in an instant, everyone in the room joined in. The sounds of weeping rose and fell, one after another, incessant.

Jiafu felt the hand pressing on her back of hers gradually grow cold. Tears flowing, she turned to look at Pei You’an beside her.

He stared fixedly at the elderly woman lying peacefully on the pillow with closed eyes. His eyes were bloodshot, and for a long while, he didn’t even blink once. His figure seemed frozen by the icy, snowy world outside.

…

News of the death of the Old Madam of the Duke of Wei spread that very night. While people were still crying inside, the Pei family’s major and minor stewards, upon hearing the news, had already erected a funeral tower at the front gate and set up mourning shelters. By the fourth watch, the mourning hall was prepared, with Buddhist and Taoist rituals arranged. By the fifth watch, Pei You’an and Pei Quan had reported the family bereavement to the Ministry of Rites. The Duke Zhu’s household, the Marquis of Anyuan’s family, Liu Jiushao, and other mourners began arriving in white mourning clothes to pay their respects. The filial sons and grandsons stood by to express their gratitude, while the women kept vigil and wailed behind screens. The palace also sent funeral offerings, with Li Yuangui arriving to convey the Emperor’s grief over the Old Madam’s passing.

The funeral arrangements for the Old Madam were extremely elaborate and honored, almost stirring the entire capital. During the days when her body lay in state, visitors came to pay their respects day and night, with an endless stream of carriages and horses. Pei You’an and Pei Quan managed external affairs, while Madam Xin and Second Madam handled internal matters. The younger generation, such as Jiafu and Zhou Jiao’e, kept daily vigil and mourned. After seven days and nights, the funeral procession moved to Ci’en Temple for temporary repose. After forty-nine days, when the rituals to dispel disasters and eliminate karmic obstacles were completed, the coffin would be escorted back for burial.

In the nearly half-year since Pei You’an had left the capital, Jiafu had been attending to the Old Madam and had already lost some weight. After this grand funeral, she was utterly exhausted. On the night after the funeral procession, there was one final religious ceremony at home. Once completed, the funeral proceedings would be considered finished. Madam Xin and Second Madam were both initially present but were successively called away by the managing matrons. Shortly after nightfall, Zhou Jiao’e, seemingly unable to endure any longer, quietly slipped away, leaving only Jiafu. When half the ceremony was completed, she stood up after the prostrations and suddenly felt dizzy. Her body swayed slightly. Nearby, Tanxiang noticed and hurriedly supported her, turning her head to call for someone to bring a stool when she saw Pei You’an striding in, gripping Jiafu’s arm.

Jiafu steadied herself and slowly opened her eyes. Seeing Pei You’an there, looking at her with concern, she said softly, “I’m fine. I was kneeling for a while, and my circulation may have been affected. I’ll be better after walking around a bit.”

Pei You’an glanced at her complexion and said, “Come, I’ll escort you back to our room.”

Jiafu shook her head: “There’s still half the ceremony left…”

Pei You’an turned and instructed the managing matron nearby to have Madam Xin send someone else to keep watch, then led Jiafu out.

Jiafu remained silent, following him back to the rear courtyard, entering their compound, and arriving at their bedroom door. Pei You’an pushed the door open. As Jiafu stepped inside, her legs felt somewhat weak, and her toe caught on the threshold, causing her to stumble forward.

Pei You’an supported her waist and, under the gaze of the servants behind them, lifted Jiafu horizontally into his arms and strode quickly toward the inner chamber.

How long had it been since they had been this close physically?

These days, although Pei Quan was nominally managing affairs, within two days he claimed excessive grief had damaged his health. Almost all external matters fell onto the shoulders of his grandson, the acting eldest filial son. During the day, Pei You’an was extremely busy, and Jiafu could hardly see him. At night, either Jiafu herself kept vigil, or he would return to their room, briefly close his eyes, and rise at the fourth watch to arrange the next day’s affairs. Day after day, in the seven or eight days since his return home, calculating carefully, it seemed they had barely exchanged a few words.

Pei You’an carried her into the inner chamber, placed her on the pillow, helped her remove her outer garments, pulled up the quilt to cover her, and finally bent down to remove a plain white silk flower pinned in her hair, tossing it aside. The back of his fingers gently brushed over one side of her face as he said, “You’ve had a difficult time these days. Go to sleep.”

His cheeks were hollow, the bloodshot in his eyes had never receded, and his voice sounded hoarse.

Having spoken, he turned to leave.

Last night he had kept vigil until dawn, and the night before he had returned to their room at the third watch, leaving before the fourth.

Jiafu reached out and lightly tugged at his sleeve. When he turned back, she said, “Cousin, I want you to sleep with me.”

Pei You’an thought for a moment, agreed, removed his outer garments, got into bed, and took her into his arms, closing his eyes and saying, “Sleep now.”

Jiafu clung to him with both hands and said softly, “Cousin, if you’re feeling sad, just tell me. Speaking about it will make you feel better.”

Pei You’an’s eyelashes quivered slightly as he slowly opened his eyes, meeting her gaze for a moment. He smiled faintly and patted her back gently in a comforting manner: “I’m fine, don’t worry about me. If you’re tired, go to sleep quickly. I won’t go out to receive guests tonight, I’ll stay with you. Sleep peacefully.”

Jiafu gazed at him for a moment before finally saying a soft “All right” and closing her eyes.

She felt the man beside her tucking in the quilt for her and gently drawing her closer into his embrace.

She docilely rested her face against his chest.

Soon, fatigue washed over her like an avalanche, and she fell into a deep sleep.