The Nu’ergan Regional Military Commission was located on the east bank of the lower Heilongjiang River, a place where multiple ethnic groups converged—the Jiliemi, Kuyi, Daur… fierce and warlike tribes who had submitted to the Ye court two hundred years ago, but whose ambitions to advance into the Central Plains had never died. There had been many disturbances in the past, but due to garrison suppression, they hadn’t stirred up major waves. However, now that the court had chronically defaulted on military pay, soldiers weren’t proper soldiers and generals weren’t proper generals. When even eating was difficult, who would properly guard the nation’s borders?
Though Wanwan remained in her inner chambers, she was still deeply concerned about the war. On the road from the prince’s mansion to the Grand Princess’s mansion, she could sometimes hear roadside vendors discussing how business in the north had become increasingly difficult—now the routes were completely cut off. They ended with a phrase—”chaos of war and horses.” Wanwan’s heart grew troubled first. Could that brother of hers, who only knew peach wood swords and not weapons of war, handle such a chaotic situation?
After much deliberation, she could only go to Silver Peace Hall to hold court and summon Jin Shi to speak.
“Jinling is a nest of comfort. Staying too long makes one ignorant of outside situations. What’s really happening in the north? His Majesty hasn’t written to me recently either—he must have encountered great troubles. You Embroidered Uniform Guards often travel outside—do you have any reliable news?”
Jin Shi said, “War has already begun. It’s said to have started as merely rioting by rebels from one guard station, then gradually expanded with successive rebel forces joining. Now they number forty to fifty thousand.”
“And the court? They dispatched the Three Guards of Duoyan to suppress the rebellion—do you think they can contain it?”
“The Three Guards of Wuliangha were the most elite and skilled fighting forces in the north during Taizong’s reign. How they are now… is unknown.” Jin Shi glanced upward. “If Your Highness is concerned, this minister could enter the capital to gather intelligence. Should there be any movements in court, I could report back to Your Highness promptly.”
Wanwan agreed and had Tonghuan fetch her identification tablet. “The capital conducts strict inspections. If you encounter questioning, say you’re conducting business on my orders. Whether purchasing supplies or checking on residences, arrange the story as you see fit.”
She didn’t want him to tell the truth because Nanyuan was in a delicate position—caution was always wise.
Jin Shi knelt on one knee and accepted her tablet. The plaque was ice-cold, with her title carved on the reverse and her personal name on the front. He bowed low with hands raised high, declaring loudly, “This minister receives the command.” The three characters “Murong Jun” were exceptionally clear beneath his fingertips.
Wanwan smiled slightly. Even with subordinates who served her faithfully, she was somewhat embarrassed to trouble others. She told him to rise, saying bashfully, “It’s a long journey—the Chiliarch will suffer hardship. Take a few men along, be careful on the road, and return quickly.”
Jin Shi rose and bowed. “Your Highness take care—await this minister’s news.”
He turned and left Silver Peace Hall with a martial artist’s swift strides, wind beneath his feet. Xiao You blinked. “I think this Chiliarch… seems more pleasant than before.”
Tonghuan smiled at Wanwan, who said, “Last time I tried to arrange a match for you, you were unwilling, wasting two years. Now I’ve sent him away—it’s too late to say anything. Wait until he returns. If his hometown has no one, we’ll see if he has feelings for you.”
Usually bold and straightforward, Xiao You now twisted like a pretzel. “Master, why are you teasing me like this!” That long string of affected trailing sounds gave everyone goosebumps.
Liang Shi grew increasingly busy at the provincial administration. Unable to return himself, he sent Rong Bao to run between locations, bringing back nothing but inquiries about what she wanted to eat or play with. This man occasionally showed small romantic touches—when peach blossoms bloomed, he’d have someone bring back two branches, saying the prince had personally broken them for Her Highness to arrange in vases. When carp were plump, he’d have one brought back on grass rope, sending someone to deliver it to the mansion, saying the prince had bought it while passing the market on business, for the cook to prepare as an evening dish.
Wanwan felt she could ask for nothing more from such days. Only a child was missing—with a child, regardless of gender, she could enjoy this love with a clear conscience.
Xiao You consoled her, saying it didn’t matter. “Every embrace should be treasured as hard-won. Remember how much effort the prince expended trying to marry you initially! Standing outside Zhenshun Gate on snowy days, his face frozen blue, his ear tips red with cold. What if there’s no child? No child doesn’t prevent him from cherishing you! Besides, it’s not that you can’t bear children—that time you miscarried while defending Nanyuan and arguing with the cabinet. The prince knows what’s proper—he won’t blame you.”
She slowly shook her head. “It’s not about whether he blames me—I can’t get past it in my heart. No matter how well spouses get along, children are fundamental. A kite may fly high, but it needs a string tethering it. Children are that string, connecting me on one end and the prince on the other. With children, spouses truly seem like spouses. Otherwise, when great difficulties arise, each flies separately—who can’t live without whom?”
The love between her and Liang Shi, separated by an entire nation, could never truly draw close. Her feelings weren’t deeply invested as self-protection. Wanwan sometimes felt she lacked the ability for reckless abandon—she was always clear-headed. Even when confined in the capital, missing him to distraction, once matters involved the state, she could immediately calm down. Of Emperor Xiaozong’s three children, only she most resembled their father. The emperor spent his life’s blood for the realm; his diligence in governance was something her elder brothers could never match.
Unfortunately, she was born a woman—otherwise she could contribute to the country. Now, even knowing the outside situation, she could only worry helplessly.
When spring warmed and flowers bloomed, she strolled in the garden. Last year’s cluster of hostas had frozen to death, so this year she planned changes, replacing them with red peonies. She watched young eunuchs dig soil beneath the artificial mountain to level the ground. She hadn’t stood long when word came that the secondary consort and young mistress had arrived. She paused slightly. “What are they here for?”
Tonghuan shook her head. “If Your Highness doesn’t wish to see them, this servant will go out and deflect them.”
Wanwan said it wasn’t necessary. “Probably something regarding the young master.”
They were summoned into the garden. The young mistress was bashful and hesitant, while Tala Shi beamed. Entering, they first offered formal greetings. “Congratulations to Your Highness.”
Wanwan made a sound of acknowledgment. “Congratulations for what?”
Tala Shi smiled and pushed the young mistress. “Tell mother yourself—you’re grown up now, what’s there to be embarrassed about?”
Wanwan had already guessed seven or eight parts, thinking there was good news. She felt happy for her while saddened for herself.
Yun Wan’s face reddened as she curtsied hesitantly. “This servant has been… uncomfortable these past days. Grandmother summoned a physician to examine me, and he said… I’ve conceived. Today I specially came to see Mother and report to Mother…”
Wanwan maintained a proper smile throughout, nodding approvingly. “This is tremendously good news. When your father returns, I’ll certainly inform him.” Looking at this child—fourteen years old, still quite young really, with a fresh face, timid around people. She beckoned her over to sit beside her, asking how many months along she was. “Are you experiencing any discomfort now?”
Yun Wan smiled, revealing two pointed canine teeth, quite adorable. “Responding to Mother, nearly four months. This servant is fine in all respects, thank you for your concern, Mother.”
Tala Shi bent forward smiling. “This child is confused—she was with child and didn’t even know. If the doctor hadn’t taken her pulse yesterday, we’d all still be in the dark. The young master returned for New Year on the thirtieth and left on the third—it must have been conceived then. Look at these two—though married, they’re still completely childish. Adults must watch over them more.”
Wanwan pursed her lips with a gentle smile, carefully examining the young mistress twice. “Whatever you want to eat or drink, don’t be embarrassed—tell your grandmother. Right now you’re the great contributor. In the whole household you’re most important. If it’s not available in Nanjing, we’ll go outside to buy it. Everything should prioritize your happiness, remember?”
Yun Wan nodded. “Thank you, Mother. I’m quite embarrassed to trouble Mother over my affairs.”
Wanwan patted her hand. “Silly child, good news—telling me makes me happy too.” She turned to ask Tala Shi, “Everything’s being prepared? The child’s clothes and bedding, and the cradle… calculating the time, it should be in September. The season will be perfect then—neither cold nor hot, so neither mother nor child will suffer.”
Tala Shi rose and curtsied affirmatively. “This servant has already begun preparations. When the time approaches, I’ll find the city’s best midwife to attend the birth. Your Highness need not worry.”
Wanwan again cautioned the young mistress to be careful with her health, avoid extreme joy or anger, maintain a peaceful state of mind, and had someone report the good news to the young master in Xuzhou. The women sat together, appearing happy for them while her own heart felt quite unpleasant. Even the younger generation had news, while she remained without movement—probably hopeless for this lifetime.
When Liang Shi returned, night had already deepened. Usually she would wait for him, but tonight was different.
She lay with her back turned, seemingly asleep. He undressed and got into bed, leaning over to look at her face. Her tear tracks hadn’t yet dried—he was startled and gently shook her. “Wanwan, what’s wrong?”
Only after repeated shaking did she open her eyes, sit up to wipe her face, and say with downcast head, “I want a child. Even the young mistress has conceived, while I… am so useless.”
This was the first time she’d cried over this—clearly she’d suppressed it far too long, reaching the breaking point long ago.
What could he do? They hadn’t neglected that activity, yet there was simply no response. He decided to take all responsibility upon himself. “Actually, during the campaign against Prince Ding’s great army, in the battle at De’an Prefecture, I carelessly fell from my horse… I think I was injured then. I didn’t dare tell you, fearing you’d worry. Now it seems I’m the one who’s inadequate…”
She was astonished. “This happened? You’re not deceiving me, are you?”
He immediately swore to heaven and earth. “If I speak even half a lie, let me become a toad.” Then sheepishly, “I didn’t want to mention it, but seeing how much you want a child, I feel terrible toward you. When I have leisure, I’ll have a doctor examine me. Perhaps taking a couple prescriptions will help—who knows.”
Wanwan was half-believing, half-doubting. His words weren’t entirely credible. If false, she’d be even more desperate.
Later she questioned his attendants. According to Rong Bao’s description, that fall was truly catastrophic—even women listening felt acute pain in their groins.
“Only Eunuch Yu could understand such suffering,” Xiao You sighed and shook her head. “Poor thing, nearly lost his life.”
Wanwan asked where the doctor who had treated him was. Rong Bao said, “Military doctors were all makeshift—chaotic times when they treated both people and livestock. After the fighting, everything needed reorganizing. Heaven knows where that person went.”
Having suffered such severe injury, how had he been so vigorous later in the capital? She wanted to ask but was too embarrassed. On second thought, after a month or two of recuperation, he’d probably mostly recovered. She’d accept his story as true for now.
Afterward, she treated him with twelve parts tenderness, as if caring for an invalid.
“Did it leave complications? Does it hurt?” She held and comforted him. “How pitiful…”
Liang Shi’s tongue went numb, alternately clenching teeth and gasping. “Just bumped it once, nothing serious… ah…”
Wanwan looked up at him. “Are there scars? I never examined carefully before—let me look.”
His face flushed red, stammering, “That would be so embarrassing… besides, after so long, it’s long healed.”
He was especially rough this time. Wanwan, understanding his difficulties, looked at him with eyes full of loving compassion, like the dowager consort.
He grew somewhat anxious. “Don’t look at me so tenderly—don’t imitate the old lady. I feel like you might call me ‘son’ at any moment.”
“Don’t talk nonsense—why mention the old lady now!” She whimpered softly as a wave crashed over her, crying out lightly, “Ah, Liang Shi…”
Still no child, while the young mistress was about to give birth.
Jin Shi sent back news—the north was severely cold with intermittent fighting. Heavy snow fell in September; movement was now impossible. In the season of scarce food and drink, rebellion was also beyond their strength, so they temporarily ceased hostilities, waiting for ice and snow to melt before resuming battle.
The premonition of war was brewing, weighing heavily on her heart—she didn’t know when something major would happen. While Wanwan studied defense maps, Nanny Li entered to announce, “Just now the prince’s mansion sent someone with word—the young mistress’s water broke and she’s about to give birth.”
The grandson was about to be born. She sighed softly—she should go see.
Great households had this custom—no rule of old and young standing at the door in anxious circles. Elders remained in their respective places, waiting for the child’s arrival when subordinates would announce everywhere whether a boy or girl was born, then everyone would gather to see the child and mother. Wanwan first went to see the young mistress, who lay on the bed with her small frame and drum-like belly. Seeing her, she called “Mother,” though her eyes held determined light.
Wanwan encouraged her. “The young master is on his way back. When the child is born, you’ll see him.”
Yun Wan’s delicate brows furrowed as she forced a smile at the corners of her mouth. “I will definitely deliver brother safely.”
Wanwan returned to Longon Tower, sitting in the round chair awaiting news. Time passed slowly with the sun high in the sky—not yet noon. She too had once carried a child, only unfortunately it died early, lacking Miss Yun’s good fortune. Actually, she envied her somewhat. No matter how much pain a mother endured, thinking of soon meeting her child filled her with strength. Though she herself was inadequate, she also hoped for Yun Wan. “Did you bring the golden locket prepared earlier? When the child is born, send it over.”
Tonghuan bent over lighting incense, turning back to say, “Everything’s ready. Your Highness please sit calmly—don’t worry.”
She smiled bashfully. “Small children are so interesting… do you think I could take the child over to play for a few days?”
For a grandmother to want her grandson by her side was the most natural thing. Just as the eldest and second young masters had been raised by the Grand Dowager Consort, if she wanted to rear the child, the young mistress should be grateful. Tonghuan said, “From your expression, if you’re willing, one word from you and they wouldn’t dare disobey. Having the young master raised in the Grand Princess’s mansion would bring honor to the young master and mistress too.”
Wanwan fell silent. But separating mother and child seemed overly cruel.
Childbirth was truly lengthy! Word came from outside that the young master had returned. Qi customs were strict—regardless of how the wife might be crying to heaven and earth in her chamber, a returning son must first pay respects to his parents.
Wanwan saw someone enter through the gate—tall in stature with bright eyes and brows. After lengthy military training, his build had strengthened, his every gesture carrying the unhurried bearing of a great general. It momentarily reminded her of first meeting Liang Shi at West Flower Gate—father and son were so alike!
He entered and made formal obeisance. “Your son has returned to pay respects to Mother.”
Wanwan raised her hand slightly. “Young master, the journey was arduous. Have you seen great-grandmother?”
He said yes, never raising his eyes to look at her.
Wanwan was very understanding, saying gently, “Don’t delay here—go see your wife. She’s been in labor for some time and should deliver soon.”
He acknowledged, bowing with lowered sleeves, and withdrew from the main chamber.
The entire household waited. Since Liang Shi couldn’t return due to naval inspections, Wanwan had a servant await news to immediately report to Xinjiang Harbor. The sun gradually declined westward. Listening carefully outside, only rustling wind could be heard. She grew somewhat worried—the water had broken so long ago, which seemed bad for the child.
As evening gradually darkened and lamps were lit indoors, dinner was served but she had no appetite, eating only a few bites before having it removed.
Just as she fretted, shouts came from the hanging flower gate: “Born, born…” She sprang up, even the lamp flame on the table trembling.
Rushing footsteps reached the eaves as Lan Zhou entered, throwing himself to his knees before her, hands gripping brick seams as he kowtowed. “My wife has given birth to a son. I’ve come to report the joyous news to Mother.”
Wanwan smiled with pleasure, breathing a long sigh of relief. “Finally born—Amitabha, as long as mother and child are safe.”
Lan Zhou, newly appointed to office, was probably overjoyed and remained kneeling without rising. When Wanwan called him, he didn’t respond, so she went over to help him up. He kowtowed again and embraced her legs in childlike fashion, choking softly, “Mother, while away, your son thought of you every day…”