On the sixteenth day of the third month in the second year of Rongshun, the Qi family welcomed another young master, named Cheng with the courtesy name Jingsi.
The Grand Tutor’s wife giving birth was theoretically a private matter for the Qi family that outsiders shouldn’t inquire about. However, given the Grand Tutor’s current position and his extremely delicate relationship with the young emperor, whether this child was male or female was particularly crucial: if female, all would be well, and perhaps she could even marry the young emperor in the future, thus turning swords into jade between the Qi and Xiao surnames; if male, then…
The result was indeed a son.
For a time, the court and countryside seemed calm on the surface, but inevitably there was much discussion behind the scenes: the Grand Tutor now had a son. Perhaps he himself had no intention of competing for the throne, but would he compete for his son? And facing this young master of the Qi family, how should the young emperor conduct himself?
Everything was in chaos.
At the same time, the name of the Grand Tutor’s legitimate eldest son spread to the ears of the world.
Qi Cheng, Qi Jingsi.
Cheng—a room for storing books; Jingsi—a learned person.
This name carried some meaning of avoiding sharp edges like idle clouds and wild cranes. Perhaps the Grand Tutor did not expect his son to usurp power, but only hoped he would study diligently and cultivate himself to govern and bring peace? Or perhaps this name was merely a smokescreen to conceal the Qi family’s greater ambitions?
No one could guess.
But these chaotic speculations from court and countryside could not enter the gates of Fenghe Court, which remained quiet and peaceful, still maintaining an atmosphere of harmony and splendor.
The Grand Tutor had rarely personally attended to court affairs during his wife’s pregnancy, and now that the child was born, he stayed even closer to home, not even attending court for nearly half a month. This wasn’t for any other reason—his wife’s constitution was simply too delicate. This birth had taken her around the gates of death, and for several days after delivery she hadn’t recovered her spirits, remaining listless all day.
Though she had little strength herself, she loved to play with the child. Whenever she woke, she insisted that someone bring the child to her side, never tiring of looking at him.
Lady Yao also came to Fenghe Court to care for Shen Xiling. Seeing her thin, pitiful appearance, her heart ached terribly, repeatedly saying how hard it had been for her. Upon seeing the child, she said: “Look at you—you’ve become so thin, yet you’ve raised this little fellow so sturdy. It truly has been hard on you.”
This wasn’t false. Qi Cheng was born at full term and was quite heavy at birth. He was spirited every day, with eyes remarkably similar to Qi Ying’s that stayed open, rarely crying, just constantly looking at people.
He was extremely endearing.
Shen Xiling now treated this child like the apple of her eye, watching him all day without growing tired, and wanting to continue watching at night, always leaving Qi Ying deeply helpless.
When he advised her to rest, she wouldn’t listen, only examining the child’s features intently and discussing with him whom the child resembled, saying with conviction: “I think he looks more like you—look at his eyes, even the curve at the corners is the same as yours, and his nose, look here…”
Qi Ying truly didn’t know what curve at the eye corners a child not yet a month old could have, but he couldn’t very well contradict his wife, so he only nodded in agreement. After coaxing for a while, he finally managed to have Shuipei come in to take the child to the wet nurse, then began personally coaxing his wife to sleep.
But his wife was even harder to coax than the child. Once Cheng’er was taken away, she tossed and turned in bed, and after a while pulled his hand worriedly and asked: “…Should I have given birth to a girl instead?”
Qi Ying raised his eyebrows upon hearing this, then heard her say somewhat self-reproachfully: “If it’s a son, whether for you or for the child… it would surely be a burden.”
Shen Xiling was no longer a sheltered young lady in a boudoir. She could see the court situation clearly and deeply understood what extraordinary significance Cheng’er’s arrival held for Great Liang’s court and countryside. Everyone would certainly watch this child closely, and Qi Ying would certainly bear more invisible burdens because of this.
Shen Xiling was naturally delighted by Cheng’er’s birth, but… she couldn’t help feeling anxious, and for a time couldn’t calm these feelings.
At this moment, Qi Ying’s arm around her shoulders tightened slightly. She leaned into his embrace, once again surrounded by the familiar sweet pine fragrance, hearing his steady heartbeat as he said: “There is no ‘should have been’—male or female would be the same.”
“Nothing will happen.”
He was never one for sweet words. For instance, when comforting her now, he merely said “nothing will happen” rather than “I will protect you both.” Yet it was precisely such seemingly plain words that made Shen Xiling feel secure, perhaps because she had always deeply trusted him from the bottom of her heart.
The two were quiet for a while. Shen Xiling nuzzled against him in his arms, then said glumly: “…But I still want a daughter.”
Qi Ying: “Hmm?”
“Daughters are so wonderful—I could dress her in beautiful clothes and style her hair beautifully,” she looked up at him happily, “and people say it’s best to have both sons and daughters. More little ones would be livelier too—besides, what if Cheng’er takes after you and doesn’t like talking? Then wouldn’t we have no fun?”
This latter half was somewhat off-key. Qi Ying frowned and expressed some confusion: “…Isn’t your temperament also not very talkative?”
More than not talkative—as a child she had been practically mute, even keeping physical discomfort to herself and enduring it alone, repeatedly giving him headaches.
Shen Xiling was suddenly exposed and momentarily speechless. After a while, she huffed and protested: “That, that was when I was little, and I’m actually very lively. It was just that you were too fierce then, so I didn’t dare speak…”
…Slanderous lies, utter nonsense.
But what could Qi Ying do? He couldn’t very well argue with a young lady, so he still agreed verbally and lowered his head to coax her to rest.
Sigh, actually speaking of it, Shen Xiling had already become a mother and could no longer be considered a young lady, but in his eyes… she would probably never escape this designation for her entire life.
She was someone who needed his care and indulgence.
Time flowed like water, years passed like shuttles, and in the blink of an eye Qi Cheng was already four years old, at the age to begin studying.
Actually, he had already started learning at three, but formally taking a teacher waited until he was four, because his mother doted on him and didn’t want him confined to a study at such a young age. She often told him: “Cheng’er is still small, there’s no rush to read and practice writing. Even when grown up, don’t be too hard on yourself—natural temperament is best.”
He vaguely felt his mother’s views differed somewhat from his uncle and aunt’s—he had heard that his cousin Qi Tai had been forced by his mother to study at age three, and if he couldn’t recite the Analects, he would even have his knuckles rapped with a small ruler.
He found this quite puzzling and thought it was because his mother was too kind-hearted. But kind mothers often spoil their children, and he couldn’t let himself drift, so he secretly worked hard when his mother wasn’t looking and often took books to ask his father for guidance.
His father didn’t prevent him from studying but didn’t particularly urge him either—if he asked, he answered; if he didn’t ask, he acted as if nothing had happened. Unfortunately, even this was later discovered by his mother, who became very angry and blamed his father for being too strict with him. Since his father always indulged his mother and agreed to whatever she said, thereafter he rarely personally guided his studies.
Given this situation at home, his education became troublesome. It was lamentable that his father, though clearly the second place scholar of Jiangzuo and Grand Tutor of Great Liang, couldn’t personally teach him. Therefore, when he turned four, he had to take someone else as his teacher.
The teacher was also an acquaintance of his parents—the top scholar from the Jiahe years, his uncle Han Feichi.
Master Han was quite different from his parents. Though usually very gentle with him, when it came to studies he became suddenly stern, repeatedly giving earnest instructions as if fearing he wouldn’t amount to anything.
Everything about the teacher was good, except one thing that often puzzled him—he wouldn’t let him read leisure books.
This matter deserves elaboration.
Qi Cheng was naturally intelligent and studious. Even though Han Feichi assigned him consistently heavy coursework, he could always complete it early. In his remaining time, he liked to run into his father’s Wangshi study to read.
He deeply respected his father and naturally wanted to read the books his father loved. Later his mother told him that his father’s favorite was the collected works of Master Baopu, and when he knew more characters, he could read them too.
His mother always thought he didn’t know many characters, but in reality he could already basically read things like literary gatherings. Later one day he secretly took his father’s book, planning to study it carefully after school.
Unexpectedly, Master Han discovered the book.
Master Han was very angry at the time, and besides anger had other complex emotions that he couldn’t entirely understand then. He only heard Master Han very seriously forbid him from reading such books again.
He was very confused, not knowing why he couldn’t read them when even his father loved reading them.
When he asked this, Master Han sighed and was silent for a long time before answering: “Those books are certainly good too, but I fear they might wear away the sharp edges of youth… If you like them, it’s not too late to read them when you’re older.”
Qi Cheng didn’t quite understand these words. Later he even asked his father for explanation. At that time, his father’s expression was also somewhat obscure, but he later just smiled and told him: “Just listen to your teacher. Future matters can only be planned in the future.”
Qi Cheng was half-understanding.
Apart from these minor disputes about reading, Qi Cheng’s childhood passed very smoothly.
With his background, it would have been difficult not to be smooth: his father was a powerful minister controlling life and death, whom even the Son of Heaven had to respectfully address as “Teacher”; his mother controlled Jiangzuo’s financial arteries and had deep connections with Jiangbei, with people accommodating her wherever she went; as for the various levels of court officials, most were his father’s students who often brought him novel toys when they came to Fenghe Court to pay respects to his father during festivals. He truly lacked for nothing.
The only thing missing was siblings.
He actually had quite a few cousins, but no biological siblings, which made him feel somewhat lonely. He lived with his father and mother in Fenghe Court and didn’t often return to the main residence, which meant he rarely had children his age to play with on ordinary days—quite regrettable.
He very much wanted a younger brother or sister, and his mother thought the same. Logically, in their household, as long as something gained mother’s approval, its realization was a foregone conclusion, since father loved mother so much that he would agree to whatever she said.
But it was precisely this matter of having younger siblings that father absolutely refused to budge on, causing mother to occasionally get angry about it.
This couldn’t really be blamed on Qi Ying. Shen Xiling’s constitution was simply too delicate. When she gave birth to Cheng’er, she had injured her vital energy and hadn’t fully recovered even after all these years. If she had another child and something happened, what then?
They already had Cheng’er—why risk having another? Qi Ying thought clearly and wasn’t constrained by notions of multiple blessings. He only hoped Shen Xiling could be safe and sound without any danger.
But Shen Xiling couldn’t fully appreciate his good intentions. She was single-mindedly determined to have a beautiful baby girl, an adorable little cotton-padded jacket, and could truly be said to spare no effort for this.
She first reasoned with Qi Ying pleasantly, then began fake crying and making scenes when he refused, but unexpectedly even these tactics failed, deeply disappointing her. However, a merchant’s nature is most cunning and tenacious—she wouldn’t give up. While carefully maintaining her health, she persistently pestered him year after year, later even beginning to scheme in bed, though she never succeeded once.
He was serious about this and wouldn’t indulge her at all on this matter.
Shen Xiling was almost furious. Over the years he had always been completely accommodating to her, naturally spoiling her temper to be somewhat willful. Now she truly couldn’t bear any frustration. After another failed attempt at scheming one night, she became completely inconsolable, rolling herself up in the quilt and retreating to a corner of the bed, trying to banish Qi Ying to sleep in the study.
The Grand Tutor’s celestial wisdom wasn’t earned in vain—applied to coaxing his wife, he was also exceptionally outstanding. He held her through the brocade quilt, and after gentle words followed by earnest reasoning, asked her in return: “Do you truly not understand my feelings?”
He was sighing, appearing somewhat sorrowful.
Just as he doted on her, she also felt great tenderness toward him and couldn’t bear to hear him sigh. Hearing his sorrow, most of her anger had already dissipated, with only a small portion still stuck in her heart, preventing her from responding to his words.
He didn’t mind, only gently embracing her from behind, treasuring her as he lightly kissed the dark hair scattered on her pillow, his voice low and tender: “Wenwen, I cannot live without you.”
Her heartstrings were touched.
“I can lose many things,” he paused here, this small pause seeming somewhat subtle at this moment, as if indicating exactly what weight this “many things” carried, then slowly continued, “…but you are not among them.”
I cannot lose you.
Could this count as sweet words? Perhaps yes, perhaps no—he always seemed to avoid expressing feelings directly, yet those emotions were very deep. Even though his expressions were always so restrained, they could still clearly seep into Shen Xiling’s heart.
Making her feel how much he loved her.
And making her feel how wrong she was to throw tantrums at him.
Shen Xiling softened again. After a while, she actively turned toward him with her quilt and gently nestled into his arms, holding him and saying: “…Alright, I won’t mention having little ones anymore.”
This small compromise seemed to please him greatly. She could feel his previous heaviness dissipating, his voice tinged with faint laughter as he praised her: “So good.”
Shen Xiling was always a little happy when praised. She quietly rejoiced for a while, then also sighed, nestling in his arms and saying glumly: “Such a pity—girls would definitely be so lovely, smart and gentle, and better to raise than boys.”
After saying this, she received no response for a long moment. Shen Xiling looked up to see Qi Ying looking at her with a half-smile.
“Smart and gentle is indeed true, but whether they’re easy to raise is questionable,” he said meaningfully, “when grown up, they still throw tantrums from time to time—quite difficult to handle.”
These words…
Shen Xiling immediately knew he was making pointed remarks, so angry her nose wrinkled. She hit and played with him in his arms. The two first laughed and played for a while, then became intimate through their playfulness.
Their passion was boundless.
Since Qi Ying’s attitude was too resolute regarding having a daughter, Shen Xiling had to seek other paths. To fulfill her dream of a daughter and also find a playmate for Cheng’er, she compromised with a solution, often inviting her sister-in-law Lady Ning to bring her daughter Qi Nian to visit Fenghe Court.
Qi Ying also approved of this.
During the great turmoil at Xiaoshan, his fourth brother Qi Le had died innocently, leaving behind only a wife and daughter. Lady Ning was also devoted—despite the Qi family continuously encouraging her to remarry and not remain trapped in sorrow, she stubbornly refused, preferring to raise the child alone while cherishing memories of her deceased husband.
Since she was so stubborn, the Qi family couldn’t say much more, and Qi Ying was even less appropriate to comment. He could only do his best to care for his sister-in-law and niece. Having Nian’er visit Fenghe Court more often was also good—this way the world would know that she and her mother were under his protection and would have his support for life.
These adult considerations were unknown to the children, who were still young and naturally only cared about having fun.
Little Nian’er was exactly one year older than Cheng’er, with a cheerful disposition and much more talkative than Cheng’er. Every visit was boisterous, pulling Cheng’er to run everywhere. Though Qi Cheng was young, his temperament was much more steady than his sister’s. Under his mother’s guidance, he was very accommodating to this sister, taking care of her in every way, making Nian’er love coming to Fenghe Court even more. The little girl never wanted to leave once she arrived.
However, their childhood time playing together wasn’t very long, because when Qi Cheng turned five, he suddenly began emphasizing propriety, saying that males and females were different and should maintain boundaries. Thus he would no longer be as intimately close with Sister Nian’er as in childhood. Nian’er was very unhappy and cried loudly several times over this. Qi Cheng would squat beside her explaining principles, his frowning, serious appearance truly resembling his father. Even Lady Yao said he and Qi Ying in childhood were like carved from the same mold—not just in appearance, but even in temperament and speaking manner.
This left Shen Xiling both laughing and crying.
That Cheng’er resembled Qi Ying naturally made her delighted beyond measure, but she knew that person, besides his good qualities, carried deeper burdens—he wasn’t someone who lived easily. On the contrary, every step he took was extremely difficult.
As a mother, what she hoped for wasn’t how accomplished her child could be, but merely that he could live peacefully and happily with smooth fortune throughout life. With her and his father protecting him, he wouldn’t need to be swept up by those dangerous worldly schemes, nor constantly face sacrifices and choices. Those things his father was destined never to obtain in his lifetime—”what the heart yearns for”—she hoped her Cheng’er could possess them all.
This beautiful hope remained peacefully in Shen Xiling’s heart, and their family did indeed enjoy a period of tranquil and beautiful years.
However, the sudden incident in the seventh year of Rongshun finally made Shen Xiling understand… that strife and killing had always lurked beside them.