Wen Yu didn’t expose this, only saying with a faint smile in her eyes: “No need.”

Under Wen Yu’s gaze, Zhao Bai had been somewhat uncomfortable. Hearing her words, he couldn’t help but ask: “Why?”

Wen Yu withdrew her gaze, looking toward the window. The hot steam rising from the clear tea on the table slowly ascended, half-concealing her face. She said: “If it were only for him alone, the day I left the Northern Territory I could have brought him along. But he still has numerous subordinate generals. If we abduct him, what position does that leave his subordinate generals in with Wei Qishan? I will personally demand his return from Wei Qishan.”

Originally it was she who forced him away. Now it should also be she who requests his return this way.

She would let all under heaven know he was upright and honorable.

Zhao Bai nodded: “This slave understands.”

—

Jiang Yichu leaned against a corridor pillar of the roofed walkway, a lake-green cloak draped over her shoulders, gazing absently at the peony garden outside the corridor.

This garden was built when her pregnancy sickness was severe and she couldn’t eat anything. When Pei Song kept hovering around her, she deliberately made things difficult for him, saying she wanted to see peony flowers. He built it like a madman.

In winter’s harsh cold, with her weak body, the physician said she couldn’t bear wind. Confined daily in her room, her entire person grew thinner day by day.

When Pei Song first saw her like this, he ordered the roofed walkway enclosed. Curtains blocking wind were hung on all four sides. He had floor dragon heating channels dug directly beneath the walkway. Charcoal fires burned ceaselessly twelve hours a day, finally making the entire corridor warm as indoors, convenient for her to go out and walk around to relax anytime.

After she proposed wanting to see a garden full of peonies, he also enclosed half the courtyard outside the southern corridor. Three sides were bricked into walls. The top was covered with glazed tiles adjoining the corridor eaves. Underground floor dragon channels were added beneath the courtyard.

In less than half a month, in this garden built like a temporary greenhouse, various transplanted peonies were forced into bloom by gardeners using every method.

Jiang Yichu naturally knew this action drew much dissatisfaction from Pei Song’s subordinate ministers and generals. Once when Pei Song was with her, that old man he most valued named Gongsun came seeking him. His gaze upon her was extremely unfriendly, nearly kneeling before her to beg Pei Song to execute her.

Pei Song seemed unwilling to let that old man have too much contact with her. He quickly went elsewhere with the old man to discuss matters.

Jiang Yichu didn’t care about this at all.

Sometimes she couldn’t distinguish whether it was Pei Song or herself who was truly mad.

She was just weary, numb, day after day waiting—waiting for someone to give her an ending.

She couldn’t seek death herself. She still had A’yin.

But living with this body that seemed rotted both inside and out, she was indeed so tired.

Jiang Yichu’s spirits had never been good. Leaning against the corridor pillar nearly asleep, an argument came from the other end of the corridor.

She opened drowsy eyes, asking the maidservants attending nearby: “What’s happening?”

The people serving by her side had been replaced batch after batch. With this newly sent batch, she hadn’t even remembered their names yet.

That maidservant hesitantly replied: “It’s Beauty Zheng who also wishes to come to the corridor side to view flowers.”

This roofed walkway was situated in the main courtyard, which was also the largest courtyard in the entire estate.

With current warfare looking unpromising, Beauty Zheng’s father was being heavily relied upon by Pei Song. Thus Beauty Zheng’s status also rose with the tide.

She was also the only one among Pei Song’s many concubines who, like Jiang Yichu, was pregnant.

In the past when Jiang Yichu didn’t go out, Beauty Zheng also often came to view these winter peonies. Today unfortunately, the two encountered each other.

The servants responsible for caring for Jiang Yichu, though ordered by Pei Song to prioritize Jiang Yichu in everything, with Beauty Zheng’s current arrogance in full bloom, didn’t dare completely offend her either.

Jiang Yichu heard the argument at the corridor’s end continue for a while. Suddenly feeling somewhat wearily lazy, she said: “Both are beauties by the lord’s side. How can we favor one over the other? Let Beauty Zheng come over. This garden is so large—one more person won’t make it too crowded.”

That maidservant naturally didn’t dare decide on her own. After bowing to Jiang Yichu, she left another servant girl to continue guarding her while she went to that end of the corridor, seemingly to report to the managing matron blocking Beauty Zheng.

After the matron in stone-blue robes heard the maidservant’s whisper, she glanced back toward Jiang Yichu, who was already leaning against a beauty’s couch seemingly viewing the garden’s peonies or perhaps already asleep. Her expression was gravely uncertain.

Beauty Zheng wore a pomegranate brocade dress. The cloak on her body was also cut from flame-red velvet. Seeing this matron before her with a rigid face still showed no intention of making way, she inevitably grew angry, haughtily saying: “The lord enclosed this corridor and built this garden for our convenience to walk while pregnant. Now only that woman surnamed Jiang may go, but this madam cannot? Do you servants dare say these words before the lord, Old Master Gongsun, and this madam’s father?”

With her father currently in favor, she spoke these words with full confidence.

After weighing the pros and cons, that managing matron finally stepped aside half a step, head lowered: “Beauty Zheng, please calm your anger.”

Seeing her sensible, Beauty Zheng coldly snorted, then led her own group of servant women, striding haughtily into the corridor.

The middle section of this corridor had another opening carved out. Stone steps were laid allowing direct access to the garden for flower viewing.

Jiang Yichu sat on the beauty’s couch by those stone steps. Due to severe fatigue, she had been leaning against the railing with closed eyes in light sleep.

After Beauty Zheng walked over and saw this, she seemed to feel Jiang Yichu was deliberately ignoring her to embarrass her. Her gaze swept across Jiang Yichu’s abdomen, her eyes deepening slightly as she mocked: “Beauty Jiang has such refined interests.”

Jiang Yichu opened a pair of weary eyes, looking at Beauty Zheng standing several steps away, her entire person gorgeous as a pomegranate flower. She gazed at her quietly for a while, saying: “Beauty Zheng’s spirits are also quite good.”

Beauty Zheng’s gaze swept critically across her plain face, seeming very puzzled: “Every time the lord goes to your place, you have this appearance?”

Jiang Yichu was unexpectedly good-tempered today. Even being thus humiliated, she didn’t strike back, only saying: “A willow’s frail beauty indeed cannot compare to Beauty Zheng’s natural beauty.”

Beauty Zheng looked at her even more strangely, but on second thought, seemed to feel Jiang Yichu had finally recognized the situation clearly. As a former Liang Heir’s Consort, her identity alone was enough to draw criticism—what could she compete with herself for?

She laughed mockingly: “For Beauty Jiang to understand these things now isn’t too late, is it?”

She half-raised her forearm toward Jiang Yichu, her face still wearing a haughty expression: “Support this madam to walk in the garden.”

This was humiliating Jiang Yichu like a servant.

The servant women on both sides changed expressions. The managing matron responsible for watching Jiang Yichu said: “Our Beauty’s body is weak. This servant woman will support Madam.”

The servant women following Beauty Zheng also repeatedly said it couldn’t be done.

Beauty Zheng glanced at them casually, as if not understanding their tension: “What are you afraid of? Can Beauty Jiang possibly harm this madam?”

The managing matron caring for Jiang Yichu wanted to speak again, but Jiang Yichu already said: “Between younger sister Zheng and myself there have been many misunderstandings. Now that younger sister Zheng is willing to turn swords into jade, how could I not respond?”

The managing matron’s expression darkened slightly: “Beauty Jiang…”

Jiang Yichu glanced at her faintly: “Do you want me to continue being estranged from younger sister Zheng?”

The managing matron’s brows knitted tightly. Before Beauty Zheng, she could only nod and say “this servant woman wouldn’t dare.”

Beauty Zheng seemed very satisfied with Jiang Yichu’s understanding, sneering: “Wouldn’t it have been fine to do this earlier?”

Jiang Yichu rose and supported Beauty Zheng’s extended forearm, saying: “Thank you, younger sister Zheng, for not holding past grievances.”

The two walked toward the stone steps.

The managing matron gave several maidservants a look. They all followed the two very closely to prevent any mishap.

Only when the two reached the stone steps and stopped, they didn’t hurriedly descend.

Jiang Yichu said: “Among all flowers the peony is foremost. Among peonies the Yao Yellow reigns supreme. I wonder which peony in this garden younger sister Zheng favors most.”

Beauty Zheng said overbearingly: “Yao Yellow is too plain. This madam prefers Wei Purple.”

Her gaze turned to Jiang Yichu: “Beauty Jiang shouldn’t rely on being older to keep calling me younger sister. Being older with fading beauty isn’t necessarily a good thing, is it?”

Having finished this mocking speech, she continued: “Support this madam to pick a Wei Purple.”

Jiang Yichu’s face showed no expression. In those eyes that had been numb and hollow from pain for too long, as she supported Beauty Zheng stepping down the stairs, something like struggling emotions seemed to flash for an instant, only to quickly be swallowed again by that pain and numbness.

She used a voice only she and Beauty Zheng could hear, speaking extremely softly: “I’m sorry.”

The managing matron had been alertly following behind the two. When the two stood talking at the stone steps, her nerves had been in a highly tense state. Seeing the two finally step down, she hurried to follow.

But the accident happened in that instant.

Whether their feet missed the steps or they were tripped by something, the two suddenly rolled down the stairs together.

“Madam!”

“Beauty!”

Both sides’ servants were alarmed. The entire garden instantly became a noisy chaos.

Lower abdomen aching with falling pain, her entire skeletal joints also hurt from the jarring fall against the ground. Jiang Yichu’s ears were full of ringing. Everything before her eyes spun dizzyingly, yet she still looked with difficulty toward Beauty Zheng who had fallen beside her.

The other likewise covered her abdomen with a pained expression, yet in the eyes looking at her, clearly held a trace of shock.

Jiang Yichu’s last consciousness stopped at that eye contact with Beauty Zheng.

Sinking into the deepest darkness, she seemed to dream a very, very long dream.

On the Prince’s Manor swing frame, Wen Heng pushed her as before, helping her swing out.

She laughed joyfully, her entire person light and floating, swinging so high, yet still calling out: “Heng Lang, swing higher!”

The person pushing her in place, a refined face holding a gentle smile that seemed able to embrace everything in the world, complied and pushed her even farther with more force.

Before long, a matron carried her Jun’er over, smiling and telling her: “The young lord hasn’t seen Madam for quite some time. He’s crying insistently!”

Jiang Yichu reached out wanting to hold the child, but instinctively felt something was wrong.

By her ear suddenly rang faint yet heart-piercing crying: “Mother… Mother…”

“A’yin wants Mother…”

Jiang Yichu finally noticed what was wrong. She looked toward her husband: “Heng Lang, where’s A’yin? I hear A’yin crying…”

Wen Heng looked at her gently and silently for a while, then reached out to tuck a strand of hair by her cheek behind her ear, gently telling her: “Yes, A’yin is still over there. Don’t worry about Jun’er—I’ll take good care of him. Go back.”

Go back?

Go back where?

Jiang Yichu didn’t understand. She wanted to call him back to ask something, but her consciousness became muddled again.

Jiang Yichu didn’t know what she was resisting, but at that moment she suddenly felt so sad, so sad. She saw Wen Heng pick up Jun’er, his white robes refined and elegant, his back to her, step by step walking toward their former residence.

She wanted to chase after, but her feet seemed bound by something. No matter what, she couldn’t move an inch. She urgently and hysterically called out her husband’s name: “Wen Heng! Wen Heng!”

He never dared make her angry. She was calling his full name now—why still wouldn’t he turn back to look at her again?

Her eyes were sore and painful, her throat burning.

On the bed soaked with the clear, bitter scent of medicine between the bed curtains, Jiang Yichu’s eyes were tightly closed, her lips struggling to murmur something. Clear tears rolling from her eye corners slowly slid toward her temples.

A’yin, not yet four years old, lay collapsed at her bedside, crying severely. Both eyes were already swollen like walnuts. Her two hands clutched Jiang Yichu’s arm, shaking helplessly, continuing to cry hoarsely: “Mother…”

Jiang Yichu still sank in unconsciousness, yet seemed to finally break free of some restraint. Her throat finally hoarsely called out that name: “Wen Heng…”

Her long lashes fluttered. The eyes that had been tightly closed for days finally slowly opened a crack.

A’yin had cried too long. From excessive emotion and inability to catch her breath, her throat kept emitting sobbing sounds like a young beast’s bloody wail. Her small body also kept trembling.

“A’yin…”

Seeing her daughter like this, Jiang Yichu also instantly reddened both eyes. She reached out wanting to touch her daughter’s face, but noticed Pei Song sitting on a stool behind A’yin the entire time.

He looked more disheveled than any time she’d ever seen him. The stubble on his chin hadn’t been shaved in who knows how long—at a glance it was all pale blue-green. His hair was still meticulously groomed, but his eyes were red from prolonged sleeplessness.

Meeting Jiang Yichu’s gaze, he smiled indifferently: “I thought Elder Sister was truly going to abandon this little bastard and go find that useless waste Wen Heng.”

Jiang Yichu’s hand hanging outside the bed instinctively protected A’yin. Though sick to emaciation, the eyes looking at Pei Song were still full of wariness.

Seeing her like this, Pei Song still smiled, yet the vicious fury and bloodlust in his eyes intensified. He said softly: “Elder Sister killed our child.”

Hearing this answer, Jiang Yichu seemed to freeze for a moment, then revealed some expression like relief in her eyes.

This undoubtedly further enraged Pei Song. Only the smile on his face instead grew even brighter. The back of his knuckles lightly caressed across Jiang Yichu’s cheek, saying leisurely: “I only now know Elder Sister harbors such cruel thoughts toward me—not only wanting to kill my child, but also wanting to use the opportunity to make Beauty Zheng miscarry too, driving a wedge between me and her father, isn’t that right?”

His knuckles fell to her chin. Taking advantage, he gripped her jaw, staring at her face pale from illness, asking sarcastically yet intimately: “But does Elder Sister know she was the one being schemed against?”

Under Jiang Yichu’s wary and shocked gaze, he mocked with a smile: “Beauty Zheng’s pregnancy was from an affair. She naturally also knew she couldn’t let this child be born. Now that her father is being heavily relied upon by me, it’s the perfect time to eliminate that child.”

“Dragging you down with her both eliminates the threat of you giving birth to a child in the future and shifts all blame onto you. Isn’t that killing two birds with one stone?”

Jiang Yichu’s pupils dilated slightly. Her lips had become almost the same color as her white face. She said not a word.

Pei Song released the hand gripping her chin, instead loosely grasping the back of A’yin’s neck as she lay collapsed at the bedside.

He had practiced martial arts for years. Though his build wasn’t burly—among military generals he could even be called slender—when those callused hands gripped a young child’s neck, that section of neck still appeared so fragile.

His eyes suppressed extreme madness, as if extremely puzzled: “Doesn’t Elder Sister always cherish this little bastard? How can you be so cruel to our child?”