The next day, after morning court was dismissed, Jiang Sanlang knew Lin Xiao was heading out of the palace to go home, so he walked with him.

Once they passed through Lingxiao Gate, the two mounted their horses. With no one around to overhear, Jiang Sanlang spoke more freely, saying to Lin Xiao, “I never expected Xia Di to volunteer to go to Yumen Pass himself. The pieces we’d arranged didn’t even get used—though that’s just as well, saves us from tipping off anyone watching too closely.”

Lin Xiao didn’t respond.

Jiang Sanlang continued, “Did you see Duke Wei’s expression at the time? His face turned green when he heard Xia Di request the assignment—clearly even Duke Wei didn’t know beforehand.”

Lin Xiao’s mouth twitched. “Isn’t that how Xia Di always operates?”

Jiang Sanlang stifled a laugh. “I heard that ever since he married that young lady surnamed Feng, he hasn’t set foot in the inner courtyard once. Every time I run into him, he never has a smile on his face—who knows what fire he’s nursing inside. Speaking of which, ever since that incident, although Duke Wei and Princess Derong have kept putting the blame on Kangping, Xia Di has always known how much you value your sister. And that magistrate Cheng who tried to blackmail him appeared all too conveniently—right after he tried to scheme against your sister, no sooner, no later. I’d guess he’s suspected you for a while now.”

A trace of malice flickered in Lin Xiao’s eyes. “Let him suspect me—suits me just fine. Better that he knows this Yumen Pass trip has my hand in it too. Even if he hadn’t volunteered himself, I wouldn’t have let him off the hook! If he’s not capable enough to avoid dying under a Turkic blade, then let him die, and we’ll call it an apology to Qin Yao!”

He flicked the reins and rode on ahead.

Jiang Sanlang blinked, then spurred his horse to catch up, laughing. “You, you—your temperament hasn’t changed one bit over the years. You never bother anyone who doesn’t bother you, but if someone crosses you, you give it right back, and somehow you still manage not to lose your gentlemanly composure. Heh, your aunt really raised you well. Speaking of which, my mother is different from all the other ladies of Chang’an too—she never gossips about household trivialities. Even my father, a hardened general who’s spent his whole life on the battlefield, is kept perfectly in line by her. So the saying that ‘every household wants a Zheng family daughter’ really isn’t wrong—just look at the two of our mothers and you’ll understand.”

Lin Xiao was at a loss for words. “If you want to flatter yourself, just say so directly—no need to drag me into it.”

He glanced at Jiang Sanlang, and recalling some news he’d heard a couple of days earlier, his thoughts stirred. “Aunt sent someone to Xingyang a few days ago to fetch a cousin from the clan to Chang’an. There are so many Zheng family cousins I can’t even keep their names straight, but I heard this one is exceptionally well-read and accomplished in poetry, chess, calligraphy, and painting. She’s currently staying at the Duke of Lu’s residence. Judging by Aunt’s intentions, isn’t she trying to arrange a match within the family for you?”

Jiang Sanlang’s expression went flat. “Let her fuss about it all she wants. As long as I don’t agree, that’s the end of it.”

Lin Xiao smiled. “You can’t keep stalling forever. Be careful you don’t anger your grandfather and end up with a proper beating under the family rules. If your father actually gets serious about it, and no one else speaks up for you, your mother would be only too pleased—she certainly wouldn’t stop him.”

Jiang Sanlang fell silent for a moment. “A beating in exchange for some peace and freedom might not be such a bad trade.”

Seeing this, Lin Xiao knew that ever since the matter of the beauty-charm poison, his friend had been deeply unwilling to discuss marriage, so he let the subject drop and said nothing more.

Xia Di strode quickly into the inner courtyard. Feng Chuyue, upon receiving word, was both startled and delighted, hastily fixing her makeup in front of the mirror before coming out to greet him, supported by the hand of a maidservant.

She was slender by nature, and having suffered from severe morning sickness lately and unable to eat much, she had grown even thinner. Though she wasn’t far along, she was already showing more than most women would be at this stage.

Just as Xia Di stepped through the courtyard gate, he saw Feng Chuyue waiting in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by a group of servant women.

Seeing him enter, Feng Chuyue hurried forward to greet him with a bow. “Second Young Master is back.”

Everything about her manner, from speech to bearing, was as gentle and humble as could be.

Xia Di stopped, his gaze involuntarily falling to her slightly swollen belly. Recalling what had happened that day, a wave of nausea rose in him. He gave a cold laugh, looked straight through her as though she weren’t there, brushed past her, and strode up the steps.

This was the first time Feng Chuyue had seen her husband since their wedding, and his coldness did nothing to dampen her elation. She rose to her feet with a smile, smoothed the new robe she was wearing, and followed him into the inner room, supported by her maidservant.

Nanny Deng, the wet nurse standing nearby, watched with poorly concealed disdain. Feng Chuyue had no idea at all of the Second Young Master’s habits and preferences; if she were allowed to act however she pleased, she would likely end up provoking his temper. Not that Nanny Deng cared whether Feng Chuyue suffered for it—but the child in her belly was the Second Young Master’s first legitimate son, and it wouldn’t do to let any harm come to the baby.

With that thought, she didn’t dare be careless, and hurriedly led the servants in to attend to Xia Di.

Xia Di had walked quickly and was sweating. He sat down by the window, loosened his collar, and tapped impatiently on the table with one finger.

This meant he wanted tea.

Nanny Deng had already brought the tea over, but as she approached, Feng Chuyue took the tray from her hands instead, saying, “You may all withdraw. I’ll attend to the Second Young Master myself.”

Nanny Deng glanced up at her. Feng Chuyue’s expression was pleasant and amiable, but the hand holding the teacup was perfectly steady, not yielding an inch. Nanny Deng sneered inwardly—this woman did have a bit of backbone. But whatever tactics worked on other men wouldn’t fly with the Second Young Master; she’d only earn herself a scolding. Still, Nanny Deng decided to let her find out for herself.

She lowered her eyes, folded her hands, and withdrew to one side.

Feng Chuyue carefully carried the tea over to Xia Di, saying softly, “My lord, please have some tea.”

She waited for a long while, but Xia Di showed no reaction at all. Feng Chuyue couldn’t help but look up, only to find Xia Di watching her with open mockery, his eyes full of undisguised disgust, as though he might strangle her the very next moment.

A chill ran down her back, and the teacup in her hand tilted slightly, nearly spilling.

Though she prided herself on being able to endure cold words and harsh treatment, the man before her clearly carried an intense, uncontrollable quality—hard and cold as stone, not someone who could simply be won over by lowering herself. She froze in place, unable to step forward or retreat.

Xia Di looked at Feng Chuyue coldly and said curtly, “Get out.”

Nanny Deng, watching nearby, felt a measure of satisfaction but also worried quietly that Feng Chuyue might not be able to bear such cold treatment and, in her shame and anger, might harm the pregnancy. But with the Second Young Master’s temperament, even if the Princess herself came in person, there would be no way to change it. She could only hope Feng Chuyue would recognize her place and not try to clash with him—after all, the Second Young Master was only home to have his things packed; tomorrow he would set off for Yumen Pass.

Thinking this, she looked up and saw Feng Chuyue still standing there, neither speaking nor moving, apparently determined to hold her ground against the Second Young Master, and grew secretly anxious.

She was just trying to think of a way to coax Feng Chuyue out of the room when Feng Chuyue suddenly let out a cry, clutching her belly, hissing in pain. “My stomach hurts so much.”

Nanny Deng’s heart sank. Just as she’d feared—the moment the Second Young Master came home, he was bound to make trouble for Feng Chuyue, and however thick-skinned Feng Chuyue was, how could she possibly endure his scolding? Sure enough, the pregnancy had been disturbed.

She hurriedly sent someone to inform Princess Derong, while she herself led the others forward to support Feng Chuyue.

In the midst of the commotion, Nanny Deng glanced at Feng Chuyue, whose eyes were tightly shut, crying out in pain—yet her face was rosy, without a single bead of sweat. The hand supporting her froze: she was faking it!

A thought struck Nanny Deng, and she nodded inwardly—this woman really wasn’t foolish. Unwilling to be thrown out of the main chamber in front of the servants, yet not daring to confront the Second Young Master directly, she knew the only thing she could currently rely on was the child in her belly, so she used the pretext of a disturbed pregnancy to give herself a way out.

Xia Di saw through Feng Chuyue’s little trick completely. How could he let anyone use such a tactic to control him? He gave a cold laugh, strode over, seized Feng Chuyue’s collar, and hauled her up, forcing her to stand straight, looking at her with something between a smile and a sneer. “I see the Duke of Wei’s household really has given you quite an inflated sense of yourself, resorting to such crude country tricks. Disturbed pregnancy? Good—that’s a piece of flesh I never wanted in the first place. Better off dead and done with it!”

Feng Chuyue was the greatest humiliation of his life—the thought that such a scheming, unscrupulous woman had become his first wife made him want to kill her on the spot.

Forced to open her eyes and face Xia Di, his words cut like the sharpest blade in the world, finally tearing a gap in the thick armor she wore. She couldn’t quite name the feeling inside her—it wasn’t quite sadness, more humiliation and fear, and for the first time in her life, she felt the urge to cry.

But when her gaze swept over the precious black jade crown atop his head, recognizing the extraordinary value of the material, she swallowed back the bitterness in her throat, softened her gaze, and looked instead at the red marks on his face, deliberately changing the subject. “My lord, were you bitten by some poisonous insect on your face? Should I get you some detoxifying medicine?”

Xia Di froze for a moment, his expression—previously the picture of icy disdain—suddenly turning uncomfortable.

Just then, a startled cry came from the doorway. “Second son! What are you doing? Let her go this instant!”

It was Princess Derong, with Xia Yuan following behind her, the two of them surrounded by a crowd of servant women.

Xia Di glanced at his mother and coldly released Feng Chuyue, walking back to sit by the window.

Derong had Nanny Deng help Feng Chuyue onto the bed. Once Feng Chuyue was settled, Derong didn’t bother going over to look at her directly, only saying, “I’ve already sent for Imperial Physician Lin. He’s the best with women’s conditions—he’ll take your pulse in a moment.”

Feng Chuyue propped herself up weakly on the bed, thanking Derong. “Thank you for your concern, Mother.”

Derong walked over reluctantly, a few steps closer, and said flatly, “Second son is busy with official duties all day, and now he’s about to head off to Yumen Pass on campaign—he has plenty on his mind already. He finally manages to come home, and instead of comforting him, you go and provoke him. Look at you, already carrying a child—what would you do if the pregnancy were truly disturbed?”

Feng Chuyue dared not show even a trace of resentment, only repeating, “It’s A’Yue’s fault for not understanding. I provoked my lord’s anger. I won’t do it again.”

Xia Yuan said gently from the side, “All right, Mother, let sister-in-law rest properly.” She gave Feng Chuyue a friendly smile.

Feng Chuyue hurriedly returned the smile gratefully.

Only then did Derong let the matter drop. She walked over to Xia Di, and seeing her son’s gloomy face—he hadn’t smiled once this whole time—with faint red marks visible on his face and neck, a pang of tenderness struck her. The reproach on the tip of her tongue she swallowed back, only reaching out to flick his forehead and saying quietly, “Come to the main hall in a moment. I have something to ask you.”

Xia Di naturally knew what his mother wanted to ask—why he had suddenly requested to go to Yumen Pass. He gave a listless smile. On Mount Shouhuai, he had watched with his own eyes how she and another man had fought side by side, their affection deep and unmistakable, needing not a single word—just one glance was enough for the two of them to understand each other’s hearts.

He had stood by and watched, and the thought of the phrase “love as solid as gold” had suddenly struck him, a burning ache in his chest. Especially when he thought of how unbearable a person she must consider him to be in her heart, he couldn’t stand to remain there a moment longer. Perhaps only by fleeing all the way to a desolate, freezing place like Yumen Pass could he ease his regret even slightly.

He rose and walked toward the door. Derong hurried after him a few steps, then suddenly remembering something, turned back to address Feng Chuyue. “In a moment, when Nanny Deng and the others are packing the Second Young Master’s things, pick two presentable maidservants from among your attendants. Once he’s at Yumen Pass, there’s no telling when he’ll be back—he can’t be without someone to attend to him.”

Because Xia Yuan was present, Derong hadn’t spelled it out too plainly, but Feng Chuyue understood that Derong meant for her to prepare a bedmaid for Xia Di. She showed not the slightest hint of displeasure, only saying obediently, “Of course, A’Yue will see to it right away.”

Xia Di had already reached the doorway, but upon hearing this, he stopped abruptly, thinking his mother had lost her senses—he was going off to war, not to seek pleasure. What was the point of bringing women along?

He turned back, about to refuse outright, but then it occurred to him that if he didn’t bring a bedmaid, the servants might assume he was abstaining out of consideration for Feng Chuyue, refusing to take other women out of regard for her. He sneered—if he was going to elevate anyone, why should it be her?

He immediately changed his tone, looked back at Feng Chuyue, and said casually, “Remember to pick good-looking ones. I won’t take any ugly ones.”

Worst case, he could send them off somewhere along the way.

Feng Chuyue lowered her eyes. “Yes.”

The next morning, as he was leaving, Feng Chuyue indeed sent over two maidservants, around fourteen or fifteen years old.

He glanced at them coldly, then suddenly froze. The two maids both had skin as fair as jade and bright, clear eyes and teeth—and bore a faint resemblance to Qin Yao.

Fury surged through him, and he strode toward the inner courtyard to find Feng Chuyue and make trouble for her—what was this madwoman trying to disgust him with?

But he was stopped by a group of guards at his side. “My lord, it’s getting late. We need to set out.”

He clenched his jaw for a long moment before finally managing to swallow down his anger.