As summer began, willow catkins drifted on the breeze, and warm winds caressed the skin.
Liu’s young mistress, He Mudan, sat in the corridor, her alluring phoenix eyes half-closed. With a slender silver spoon, she scooped sunflower seeds to tempt the green parrot perched nearby. Each time the parrot, Shuai Shuai, said, “Peonies are the loveliest,” she rewarded it with a seed, praising gently, “Shuai Shuai is so clever.”
Shuai Shuai expertly spat out the shell, swallowed the kernel, and scratched the perch with its claws. It then waddled sideways, declaring smugly, “Shuai Shuai is so clever.”
Mudan laughed, “Yes, Shuai Shuai is indeed clever.”
“Young mistress, it’s time for your afternoon nap,” said a round-faced, big-eyed maid wearing a light green short-sleeved top and a high-waisted silver-red skirt. She approached, grinning and making faces at Shuai Shuai, pretending to grab it.
Well over ten years old and quite savvy, Shuai Shuai remained unfazed. It mimicked in an exaggerated tone, “Stupid Hehua!” The inflection perfectly matched the coquettish, soft voice of Yuton—another of Mudan’s maids—but Shuai Shuai’s odd tone made it hilariously absurd.
Yuhe, unlike usual, didn’t burst into laughter. She glanced furtively at Mudan, who remained expressionless. Mudan stood, handing the silver spoon to Shuer, a young maid standing nearby. She smoothed her pomegranate-red eight-panel gauze skirt and turned to leave.
Yuhe glared at Shuai Shuai, muttering, “Stupid bird! Don’t you dare imitate Yutong again, or I’ll stop feeding you rice!” Disregarding whether Shuai Shuai understood, she lifted her skirt and hurried after Mudan.
“Young mistress…” Yuhe had barely called out when she was startled into silence by a tall figure at the corridor’s end. She quickly stood at attention, hands at her sides, and loudly announced, ensuring Mudan could hear, “My lord!”
Liu Chang brushed off his exquisitely crafted dark purple round-collared brocade robe with floral patterns. He gave a faint “Mm” in response, then slowly approached Mudan’s room with his hands behind his back and chin raised. Yuhe rushed forward to lift the delicate red sandalwood curtain, inviting the master in.
Liu Chang’s somewhat sinister eyes scanned the quiet room. “Is the young mistress napping again?” he asked.
Yuhe eagerly offered tea, bowing and scraping with a hint of flattery. “Yes, my lord. The young mistress felt dizzy this morning.”
Liu Chang’s thick, straight eyebrows raised slightly. “Has a physician been called?”
Surprised by his unusually good mood, Yuhe replied uneasily, “The young mistress said it’s an old ailment that will improve with rest. She didn’t want to trouble a physician.”
Liu Chang did not comment and suddenly strode inside. “You may leave,” he ordered.
Seeing his movement, Yuhe trembled, her smile growing more ingratiating. “My lord, let me hold the curtain for you.”
Liu Chang cast her a cold glance, his thin lips uttering a harsh, “Go!”
Yuhe’s smile vanished as she backed out, head lowered.
Standing outside the curtain, Liu Chang peered through the crystal beads at the large purple sandalwood canopy bed. Its cherry-colored gauze curtains were somewhat worn, with golden phoenix hooks gleaming within. A pink brocade quilt lay neatly spread, showing no signs of use.
Frowning, Liu Chang shifted his gaze to the beauty couch by the window, bathed in spring sunlight.
There, a pomegranate-red long skirt draped gracefully. Mudan reclined on the couch, a white silk fan covering her face to block the sun. The fan’s ivory handle with lush purple tassels cascaded down, partly concealing her slender neck, accentuating its milk-white delicacy and inviting touch.
Liu Chang’s Adam’s apple bobbed imperceptibly as his gaze involuntarily moved to Mudan’s pea-green jacket embroidered with white peonies. The pure white flowers, with their vivid golden stamens, adorned the front—one on each side—glowing alluringly in the sunlight.
Liu Chang coughed lightly from beyond the curtain, but Mudan remained motionless.
“Mudan!” Liu Chang lifted the curtain and strode in. The crystal beads clinked melodiously behind him.
After a long silence from Mudan, irritation flashed in Liu Chang’s eyes. He forced his voice to remain calm. “You say you’re unwell, yet you lie about it so carelessly? Get up and go to bed properly. Mind you don’t worsen your condition and cause the entire household to fuss.”
Mudan’s thick, long lashes fluttered beneath the fan. A sardonic smile played on her lips. Her delicate fingers removed the fan from her face as she slowly sat up, her expression now gentle. “Does my husband need something?”
Backlit, she squinted, her lips red and enticing, still bearing a trace of sleepy confusion. Her languid demeanor was captivating. Liu Chang’s heart quickened involuntarily, and he blurted, “Can’t I come by without a reason?”
His tone was unprecedentedly soft. Mudan looked surprised, then lowered her eyes. She rose and walked to the window, gazing at a large pot of vibrantly blooming purple irises. “You can have someone move them,” she said flatly. “As long as they’re not picked for wearing, borrowing them for the night is fine.”
Seeing through her so easily, Liu Chang felt a mix of embarrassment and anger. His briefly calmed emotions flared again. He sneered, “Yutong is pregnant.”
Mudan didn’t bat an eye. “Oh, that’s wonderful news. I’ll inform the mistress to increase her monthly allowance and assign an extra servant. Will that suffice?”
Liu Chang stared intently at her, trying to find a crack in her beautiful, refined face—a glimpse of her hidden panic, pain, disappointment, or sorrow.
But Mudan merely touched her face casually, smiling at him. “Is there something on my face? Or do you find this turquoise forehead ornament novel and elegant? Ah I remember—the other day, Jade admired it and said she wanted you to buy her one. It’s from Fuxin Workshop on East Main Street, two taels of silver each. Though I’m sure this particular style is sold out.”
Her casual manner and tone were as if chatting with a close friend, showing no signs of panic or distress. Liu Chang suddenly deflated. He couldn’t understand why, after her illness, she had become a different person—neither competing nor fighting, neither jealous nor resentful. Even when he took Yutong, her most trusted maid, she accepted it calmly without losing composure, making him feel somewhat ashamed.
Liu Chang’s expression shifted several times before he smiled at her. “It’s not that you have something on your face, nor is it the forehead ornament. You are a peony.” He strode over and gently caressed Mudan’s face.
His fingers were cold, carrying a strong scent of incense. A flash of disgust crossed Mudan’s alluring phoenix eyes, but she didn’t move. Tilting her chin slightly, she smiled at him. “I am called Mudan, after all. It’s not surprising that you see me as one.”
Mudan was just her childhood name; her formal name was He Weifang, though it carried the same meaning. “Among all flowers in the west, only the peony is supreme.” He Weifang’s father treasured her, believing no other name could do her justice—only the king of flowers, the peony, was worthy. However, feeling that “Mudan” lacked elegance as a formal name, he chose “Weifang” for official use, while the family continued to call her Mudan in private.
The phrase “a cow chewing on peonies” suddenly came to Liu Chang’s mind—a metaphor Mudan had once used to mock him. He paused, withdrew his hand, and after a moment of silence, made his decision: “You’ve been pleasing me lately. I’ll sleep here tonight.”
Pleasing him? Did he think he was an emperor granting favor? Mudan lowered her eyes, concealing her contempt and unease. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
Being unwilling was one thing, but being rejected was another. Liu Chang sneered, “Not possible? You’ve been married to me for years without bearing a child, and now you refuse to share a bed with me. Are you trying to end the Liu family line?”
Mudan blinked, feigning distress. “Please don’t be angry, my lord. Why such fury? It’s just that I’m indisposed; it’s not that I don’t wish to serve you.”
Liu Chang glared at her. She met his gaze calmly and continued to play the victim. “You speak so gravely—what do you mean by ending the family line? Isn’t Qi’er your son? If Biwa heard this, she’d be upset.”
A concubine’s son means nothing, Liu Chang thought but swallowed the words. He snorted coldly and turned to leave, tossing back, “I’m hosting a gathering at home tomorrow. Dress beautifully and wake up early!”
Mudan didn’t respond.
He stormed out through the curtain but couldn’t resist glancing back. Mudan had already turned away, her slender figure leaning by the window, reaching for the largest bloom on the purple iris plant. The pot was a bit far, and she couldn’t quite reach it. She stood on tiptoe, stretching outward. Her delicate embroidered slipper, slightly too large, slipped off after a few wobbles. It fell with a soft thud, its white satin upper embroidered with a large red peony, and a lustrous pearl dangling from the toe.
Liu Chang’s heart suddenly softened. That pearl—he had casually given it to her as a gift in her second year of marriage when she turned fifteen and came of age. He hadn’t expected her to keep it, let alone attach it to her slipper. Forgetting his anger, he returned to her side and said softly, “What are you trying to do? Let me help.”
At that moment, he thought, even if she maliciously intended to pluck the largest flower to spite him, ruining tomorrow’s display for the guests, he would accept it.
Mudan turned to him in surprise, her luminous eyes wide. “What else do you want to borrow?”
Liu Chang’s face darkened again. The tenderness that had briefly welled up drained away, replaced by towering rage. He sneered, “Borrow? Do I need to borrow from you? Even you belong to me—why would I need to borrow? I was being considerate, and you became presumptuous? I’ll have someone come to move the flowers right away—not just this pot, but also the Yaohuang, Yulou Diancui, Zipao Jindai, and Yaotai Yulu!”
Mudan said nothing, silently watching Liu Chang.
He Mudan was passionately fond of peonies, which was why the He family had included twenty-four pots of precious peonies in her dowry. Now they were in her courtyard, tended by dedicated gardeners, and had become a must-show prop for the Liu family’s spring gatherings. These pots with auspicious names were particularly favored each year.
Mudan’s gaze reminded Liu Chang of the past and why he had married her. He raised his hand in anger. This time, Mudan genuinely panicked. She quickly assessed her surroundings, calculating the best escape route. Shrinking back, she stammered, “You… you… what are you doing? If you dare lay a finger on me, I’ll… I’ll…”