Liang Shi lacked interest in bringing Lady Tala and the others back, saying lightly: “Just send someone to Songjiang Prefecture to inform them—why trouble with going back and forth?”
Wanwan now had no apprehensions about them. She trusted Liang Shi—if he had such intentions, he would have brought them back to the Prince’s mansion long ago during the three years she was absent. The Dowager Consort’s words were also correct. Though the secondary consorts couldn’t appear in public, whether to allow their return was a matter of her grace as Grand Princess and primary consort. There were too many observers—some people could cause someone’s death with just their mouths. Why not handle the matter properly to avoid leaving gossip for those rumor-mongers to spread?
She smiled magnanimously: “It’s just some extra trouble. They’ve been away for three years too—such a long time without seeing them. As a family, don’t you miss them?”
He knew she was teasing, but his heart still tensed slightly: “With you saying this, all the more reason not to let them return. In my opinion, let Lan Zhou make the trip personally to kowtow to his mother—that would suffice. He’s already under your name now. Bringing Lady Tala back out would break protocol.”
He was thinking entirely of her, and she understood this in her heart. But protocol was protocol, and human feelings were human feelings. Though Lady Tala was indeed insignificant, they needed to account properly to Lan Zhou and his new bride. The child remained silent, but he surely thought of his birth mother. Better to bring her back so everyone could be happy together—how wonderful that would be. Besides, she had her own concerns. Moving closer, she nestled in his embrace, playing with his fingertips: “Two sons… too few. My body doesn’t cooperate—I fear I’m letting you down…”
He lowered his head and kissed her hair: “I know you’re always uneasy. Several times at night you’ve talked in your sleep—I’ve heard it all. You’re still young—no worry about not being able to raise sons. Taking the worst case, even if we’re fated to have none, with Lan Zhou and Lan Ting here, would we fear having no one to care for us in old age?”
She sighed wistfully: “People leave their names behind when they pass, geese leave their voices when they fly. I’ll leave nothing behind—coming to this world for nothing.”
Her melancholy seemed to have become habit. Those three years had given her too many unbearable memories—her brother imprisoning her, court officials daring to argue back and forth with her, her miscarriage, serious illness, mental breakdown—too much misfortune. Actually, he’d always regretted not forcibly taking her away that Mid-Autumn Day if he’d known such great upheavals would follow. If he hadn’t thought so far ahead and had fully cooperated with Prince Ding, at least he could have preserved his legitimate son…
Those regrets he dared not mention before her, only rambling to comfort her heart.
“You mean to bring them back to continue bearing sons for me? What do you take me for? The Old Dowager forced me then, and now you want to force me too? You say geese leave their voices, but you’re no goose. You’re a chisel that’s carved your name into my heart—isn’t that enough?”
Even his sweet words were delivered seriously. Wanwan looked at him and couldn’t help laughing. Then remembering his earlier words, her delicate brows furrowed as she muttered dejectedly: “Do I talk in my sleep? How do I have this problem!”
He began teasing her: “Not only do you talk in your sleep, your hands and feet aren’t honest either. I don’t know how many times I’ve been confusedly beaten by you. Fortunately I sleep lightly and can still defend myself. If you kicked me and broke something, you’d be the one suffering in the future.”
Wanwan was first startled, then blushed, saying bashfully: “Then we’ll have to sleep in separate beds. With you beside me, I feel crowded anyway!”
She looked disgusted and turned her face away. He cupped her face with both hands, turning her back to face him. Looking at those large eyes and bright cheeks, his forehead knocked against hers with a thud: “Want to get rid of me? In your next life!”
As for Lan Zhou, when he later met her, he always looked very embarrassed. Probably because every detail of his intimate affairs was reported to her, he felt ashamed. Several times when seeing her, he was very evasive, not even daring to look her in the eye when speaking.
Wanwan originally thought that given time, he would naturally see past it, but unexpectedly, after a long while, the situation still hadn’t improved. She thought she should find an opportunity to have a good talk with him—always avoiding her whenever he saw her, how could this be good!
New Year was approaching, and gifts from the estates had all been sent up. This year, because she was present, various government offices also had items to present through him. He brought those fans, writing brushes, and similar items before her. After saying just a few words, he wanted to leave again, but Wanwan called out to stop him first.
“Is there something I did wrong that displeased you? Lately you haven’t wanted to pay attention to me—I’m truly hurt.”
He said no, still keeping his eyes downcast: “This son has been too busy with duties, thus neglecting Mother—it’s this son’s lack of filial piety.”
After all, still a child, looking constrained and formal. Wanwan was truly a competent good mother. She had him sit down and spoke to him gently: “When men grow up, they all marry wives—there’s nothing shameful about such things. Your father and I are both quite happy, hoping you’ll help the Yuwen family flourish. Chamber maids are meant to serve you—if you just leave them unused, we’d be the ones worrying. Your grandmother isn’t here, so only I can speak these words to you. No matter how big you grow, in our eyes you’re still a child. What’s there to be embarrassed about between children and parents? You handle affairs outside and meet so many people and situations—being so thin-skinned, how can you help share your father’s burdens?”
Lan Zhou listened silently, then stood up: “Mother misunderstands—it’s not because of this…”
“Then why?” Wanwan asked him patiently. “Is it because you miss your grandmother?”
He shook his head, slowly raising his downcast eyes to look at her with some trepidation: “Mother needn’t worry about this son. Everything goes smoothly for this son. The chamber maids were arranged by Great-grandmother and Mother—this son dares not disobey. But… this son has his own thoughts that can’t be shared with others. It’s enough that this son knows them himself.”
Wanwan couldn’t make heads or tails of it: “From this, it seems you have someone you like? After New Year we’ll arrange your betrothal. If you have someone in mind, you must tell Mother. As long as the girl is from a good family, we’ll certainly accommodate you first. After all, it’s a lifetime matter—we can’t be careless.”
His face flushed red as he lowered his head again, mumbling that there wasn’t anyone. Hastily performing a kowtow: “This son still has unfinished duties and can’t delay further. Please allow this son to take leave first. Whatever needs saying can wait until this son returns.”
He fled as if escaping. Xiao You was quite puzzled: “This young master becomes more incomprehensible as he grows older.”
Wanwan didn’t take it seriously either. In her view, she’d done all she could. Children had their own thoughts—if he wouldn’t confide in her, she couldn’t force him.
New Year came, finally bringing a snowfall. Southern snow differed from northern snow—because it was rare, its arrival was full of surprises. After the reunion dinner on New Year’s Eve, the whole family watched fireworks in front of Silver Peace Hall. At that time, the sky still hazily held stars. After a night of thunderous firecrackers, when they opened the windows the next day, the courtyards were all white.
Liang Shi had been strictly disciplined since childhood. The brothers Lan Zhou and Lan Ting had to rise at the fourth watch to read—he had been the same way. When young and unable to get up, Nanny Jingqi would stand by the bed, tapping the bed frame with her ruler until it rang loudly. Fearing family punishment, one had to get up quickly. This habit formed over many years—he woke when the time came, more precise than that Western chiming clock.
Wanwan loved staying in bed in the morning, sleeping sweetly at the fourth watch. Originally wanting to call her to see the snow, he feared disturbing her good sleep, so he put on clothes and quietly moved to the outer room.
Though he didn’t leave the mansion, outside affairs still needed handling. Some aspects could be delegated to subordinates, but some required his personal attention. In the evening he received two letters—one from the capital, one about conditions at Andong Guard. He’d been preoccupied, previously inconvenienced by her presence, but now finding free time, he remembered to take a look.
Developments in the capital concerned not only the Emperor but also the rise and fall of court personnel, troop deployments around the capital, and so forth. The Emperor was a muddled fool. The Military Commissioner of the Five Armies, due to conflicts with Yan Sunlang, had been framed by Eunuch Yan. Without investigation, the Emperor simply expressed that he wouldn’t employ those he suspected, vacating the position. Fifth Prince had already begun making moves, mobilizing all available connections, determined to push their man into that position. Once successful, with both the capital’s defenses and Andong Guard’s garrison forces in his hands, he could rest easy in the future.
His scheme for the empire proceeded step by step steadily. Generations had planned until now—waiting another three to five years was nothing remarkable.
From Andong Guard, along with the letter came a tiger tally. He opened the box to look—the bronze gilt surface, due to its age, already showed a faint green patina. He held that left tally in his palm. The second step was obtaining the right tally in the Emperor’s hands. When both tallies combined, not only the surrendered Guizhou troops, but half of Daye’s forces could be deployed at his will.
Under the lamplight, his face showed an emotionless cold smile. If love had once confused his ambitions, now they were unprecedentedly clear. He loved Wanwan and wanted to give her stability above all others. Though the title of Grand Princess was noble, regrettably the Emperor was mad. If the Emperor were replaced, she could live without fear or restraint from anyone.
The ground brazier burned with charcoal. He lifted the cover and threw the letter in. The paper twisted and contracted in the blue flames, suddenly trembling and lifting a sheet of red light. He stood there quietly, flames dancing in his eyes.
From the inner room came rustling sounds of fabric. He replaced the cover on the brazier, having just covered it when Wanwan emerged from inside.
She still looked drowsy, saying confusedly: “You’re up? So early—dawn hasn’t come yet.”
He calmly returned to his desk, hands behind his back, putting the tiger tally back in its box while responding: “Couldn’t sleep, got up to read. Did you see outside? It’s snowing.”
She exclaimed, delighted like a child, running to open the door. A cold current hit her face, lifting the hair by her temples. She shivered, seeing the dim sky and pure white ground, smiling: “This snow falls well—right at the turn of old and new years.”
She stood in the wind, her thin nightgown fluttering. He came forward and pulled her back: “It’s still falling—not too late to look again in the morning.”
She was reluctantly dragged back to bed, lying in his arms: “Today is New Year’s Day—shall we go out for a stroll?”
He agreed: “After paying respects to Mother, I’ll have someone prepare the carriage.”
She hesitated again: “I fear the young masters will come to pay New Year’s calls. If we’re gone, it wouldn’t look proper.”
She was never the type to act without consideration, thinking too much, destined for heavy thoughts.
He stroked her hair as she lay on him, a gentle burden that gave him peace. They talked for a while, then dozed lightly until white light appeared at the window before rising.
New Year’s Day was indeed busy with various matters—receiving guests and worshipping at the family temple. Among the sisters-in-law, Wanwan didn’t like to show off. With her tranquil nature, when they chatted about everything under the sun, she leaned to one side listening. Wearing a faint smile, like a beauty in an ancient painting, she sat quietly in her precious frame.
The consorts were all very concerned about Lan Zhou’s marriage. Later topics basically revolved around the eldest son’s bride selection. Lan Zhou was the eldest son—even if he couldn’t inherit the title in future, he wouldn’t fare badly. So the consorts vigorously recommended girls of appropriate age from their natal families, asking Grand Princess to consider them carefully.
Wanwan couldn’t respond definitively, only saying to let the Dowager Consort decide. The Dowager Consort drawled: “Marrying a wife isn’t hiring a laborer—how can it be decided in a few words? We must pick and choose carefully. The eldest son is particular—if we casually find him someone, there’ll be chaos later with domestic unrest. Let’s wait—there are already several candidates. Once he sees clearly for himself, then it’ll be easy to handle.”
The consorts were somewhat disappointed but didn’t mind, changing topics for idle chat. Wanwan sat too long and really couldn’t bear it anymore. Claiming fatigue, she got up and went to the garden.
Today being New Year’s Day, Liang Shi and several brothers rarely gathered, going out together to play cuju. Wanwan, bored, went to his study to find books. He had two large bookcases—besides the Four Books and Five Classics, he also collected many Jiangnan county records and local customs. She picked a Record of Strange Events, moved to sit behind the desk, and seeing a thick stack of manuscripts on the table, helped organize them, planning to put them in the drawer.
In the drawer was a box—she remembered seeing it that morning. She hadn’t asked then but was very curious afterward. Now discovering it, she absolutely had to open it and look.
She was a princess, and unlike most princesses, while others studied embroidery patterns and stitches, she understood military strategy and recognized tiger tallies.
Tiger tallies should be called military tallies—credentials used by emperors to grant military authority to subjects and deploy troops. She stared at the tally body, covered with intricate gold inlay small seal script: “All who raise troops and don armor, using fifty men or more, must match the sovereign’s tally before daring to proceed”… The right tally stayed with the ruler, the left with the general. Usually only those commanding large forces could keep them. Prince’s military authority had been reduced for over a century—how could this tiger tally appear here?
Her heart was alarmed. Could it be an imperial reward? Had the Emperor made another mistake, giving the left tally to Liang Shi? She held that bronze lump like holding a hot potato. After much thought, she didn’t know whether to confront him directly. If it came legitimately, wouldn’t it show she was always suspicious of him? If it came through other suspicious means, then… the matter would be very bad indeed.
For a moment she was truly afraid. Actually, she did have wariness—it was her instinct, irrepressible. Her heart pounded as she struggled to calm herself, putting the item back. After checking repeatedly for flaws, she hurried back to Longen Tower.
Though seated, her thoughts turned in countless directions, unable to settle. She had Tonghuan summon Yu Qixia. After struggling for a long time, she quietly instructed him: “Go investigate something for me—where are Daye’s tiger tallies currently held?”
Yu Qixia was startled: “As far as this subject knows, there are two pairs of tiger tallies total—one each at Daye’s eastern and western fortresses, both should be with the garrison commanders. Why does Your Highness inquire about this?”
She dared not reveal the truth, only evading: “I want to know precise information… whether tallies can be transferred as gifts, whether the court has recently redistributed military authority…”
As she spoke, someone outside responded to her words: “Tiger tallies cannot be transferred as gifts. Who holds command is decided by His Majesty alone, and kept strictly secret.”
She turned around in panic to see Liang Shi entering through the door, his face slightly pale, expression displeased. Reaching her, he waved for Yu Qixia to withdraw, then fixed his eyes on her, examining her thoroughly as if he’d never known her before.
After a long moment he smiled, the smile hanging at his lips while his gaze was like sharp swords, devastating and piercing through her body.
“Wanwan, you’ve never truly trusted me.”