The grand occasion, with the arrival of news of Prince Qin’s great victory, was lifted to its highest peak—and it was amid this jubilant peak that the curtain came down in complete triumph.
The blood on the Aqini king’s severed head, still hanging from the top of the flagpole, had not yet dried when his kingdom, with the support of the Protectorate, selected a new king from among the nobility. The commoners of the kingdom, upon learning that the Protectorate would not impose taxes and that going forward they would no longer have to bear the heavy additional taxes levied to support the Eastern Di Grand Commander’s armies as they had in the past, were all overjoyed. They celebrated and embraced the new king with open arms.
Pu Zhu kept busy for a few more days. After seeing off the last delegation, she finally had some leisure and began waiting for Li Xuandu to return.
She counted the days one by one. Nearly a month was almost done, and Li Xuandu had still not come back—but she received another piece of good news first.
Ye Xiao’s wife, Ruo Yue, was with child!
Royal Sister Ruo Yue had a gentle temperament. Since marrying Ye Xiao and coming here, she had gotten along warmly with everyone. The whole household was filled with happiness, and everyone rejoiced for her. Even Luo Bao, upon hearing the news, made a special trip over to join in the excitement.
Ju A’mu laughed and chatted loudly in the courtyard: “No wonder Royal Sister hasn’t come to do needlework with us these past few days. I thought to ask about her a few days back and they said she’d been drowsy all day, and also vomiting. Deputy Protector Ye thought she was unwell and was somewhat alarmed. When I heard it, I thought right away—could she be expecting? But it wasn’t my place to say it outright; I was afraid it might be my imagination running away with me and then cause everyone to get their hopes up for nothing. This morning, Deputy Protector Ye called a physician to examine Royal Sister, and sure enough—she is! Speaking of which, since we moved here, first we had the lively polo matches, then His Highness Prince Qin’s great victory, and now Deputy Protector Ye’s wonderful news. In my view, this place is truly a land of good fortune—happy occasions one after another!”
Pu Zhu was delighted as well. She told Ju A’mu to prepare some gifts for her to bring when she went to visit her royal sister. They were still in the middle of talking when she noticed Luo Bao staring at her fixedly, with a rather peculiar expression. She asked him what he was looking at.
Luo Bao seemed to snap out of a dream. He shot a quick glance at her lower abdomen, then leapt up excitedly and blurted out: “Ju A’mu! Could our Princess Consort also be expecting? The other day I saw her vomit too!”
Pu Zhu was caught off guard and before she could react, Ju A’mu and Nanny Ju both grew tense at once. They immediately moved in around her, took her by the arms without a word of question, and sat her down in a chair. Then Nanny Ju questioned Luo Bao for details while Luo Bao gestured and spoke animatedly, and Ju A’mu began counting on her fingers, calculating the date of Pu Zhu’s last monthly cycle.
For such personal matters, Pu Zhu was sometimes too busy and sometimes too careless to remember them clearly herself—but Ju A’mu remembered perfectly.
Pu Zhu finally caught up with what was happening. She had been about to find Luo Bao’s wild talk amusing, but now, seeing how serious Ju A’mu was, her expression carrying a trace of apprehension—for reasons she couldn’t explain, she too suddenly became a little apprehensive. She even felt as though she was quietly harboring a certain kind of expectation.
She held her breath and waited. She saw Ju A’mu finish counting, pause with her hand still in the air—and then, as if unwilling to accept the result, lower her head and begin counting again on her fingers one by one. In her heart, she understood.
It must be a misunderstanding.
When Ju A’mu finished counting a second time, stopped, and her expression showed a trace of disappointment—Pu Zhu stopped Nanny Ju and Luo Bao from speculating any further and said: “There’s nothing to it. Stop talking nonsense.”
Luo Bao nodded sheepishly.
Pu Zhu rose and said: “Royal Sister’s pregnancy is the truly joyous thing worth celebrating. Go quickly and get things ready.” Nanny Ju hurried off to fetch the food to bring over. A’Ju came back to her senses and gestured for Pu Zhu to follow her inside; once in the room, she opened a chest and took out a set of infant’s clothing and a pair of tiger-headed little shoes. She explained, with a demonstration, that she had made these in her spare time when she had nothing to do—this set was specifically made for Ye Xiao and his wife. Now that Royal Sister had good news, they could bring it along as a gift.
Pu Zhu’s sharp eyes caught sight of another set of small clothes and shoes in the chest, along with a tiny tiger-headed cap. She let out a little sound of surprise, reached over and picked up the cap, stroked the lifelike small tiger on the toe of the shoe, charmed and reluctant to set it down, and asked: “Ju A’mu—who did you make these for?” As soon as she asked, she saw Ju A’mu’s gaze drift down to her own lower abdomen, and recalled the misunderstanding just now. Understanding dawned on her, and she quickly changed course to praise Ju A’mu’s craftsmanship, then put the cap back, turned, and with the gifts in hand set off for Ye Xiao and his wife’s quarters.
Ye Xiao had just gone out on business. Ruo Yue was seated by the window, head bowed, stitching a little doll’s outfit. When she saw Pu Zhu arrive—even bringing little garments and shoes as gifts—and heard her offer congratulations, she felt both bashful and deeply happy, a look of contentment and joy shining all over her face.
Pu Zhu had nothing to do that day. Seeing that Ye Xiao was busy outside and had no time to keep his wife company, she stayed for half the day. At noon she shared a meal with her royal sister. Knowing Ruo Yue needed a great deal of rest now, she bid her farewell and left. After she came out, she deliberated for a while and in the end could not resist—using the pretext of inquiring about Ye Xiao’s wife’s pregnancy—and went in person to see the Protectorate’s physician.
She sent everyone else to wait outside, then quietly asked the physician to take her pulse.
The result was clear.
Luo Bao had indeed been imagining things.
Pu Zhu suppressed the feeling in her heart—the feeling that perhaps could be called disappointment—and returned to her quarters.
In the recent period she had been constantly busy, and had even somewhat grown accustomed to that state. But these past few days things had suddenly gone quiet, and Li Xuandu still hadn’t returned—according to the latest news she had received about him a few days ago, he had already broken the Grand Commander’s seat and was nearly finished sweeping up Hufeng’s remnant forces, but even so there was no rush for him to return. He would likely need at least a few more days.
At this moment, Ju A’mu and the others had all gone off to rest.
This long, still spring afternoon left her feeling so hollow.
She lay alone on the splendid bed, and the image of Ruo Yue’s face—full of smiles—rose before her eyes. She was suddenly curious.
Could learning that one was going to become a mother truly make a person feel so happy and fulfilled?
Just what kind of feeling would that be?
She unconsciously pressed a hand against her own flat lower abdomen and was lost in thought for a moment. Then, without knowing why, she recalled something that had happened when they had first come to the Western Regions, still on the road.
That night, he had once again rejected her overture and said those words to her—that he did not yet want a child.
The matter had long since passed, and circumstances were entirely different now. She never felt that she deliberately remembered things he had said. But now, for some reason, those words suddenly surfaced in her mind, every word and sentence clear as day—she even remembered the tone he had used at the time: that manner of his, as if he had more he wanted to say but held back, talking to her in a perfectly gentle tone, yet in fact leaving her not a single opening to argue, as if the matter were already settled—
His reasons had sounded very convincing. Every word was about constraints and conditions.
But when all was said and done, wasn’t it simply that he looked down on her in his heart and didn’t want to have a child with her?
A restless, burning sensation like cat’s claws rose again in Pu Zhu’s heart, and she grew increasingly listless—yet she couldn’t sleep either. She rolled around fretfully on the bed a few times, and then thought of Mistress Shuang.
The polo tournament’s smooth running had been inseparable from the considerable financial support Mistress Shuang had provided. Just a few days prior, Mistress Shuang had even sent over two casks of newly pressed grape wine, saying she had selected them specially and set them aside for Li Xuandu.
She had originally planned to visit Mistress Shuang together with him when he returned.
But now she no longer wanted to wait for him.
She had nothing to do anyway. From here to Mistress Shuang’s estate was only about a hundred li—an hour on horseback. Mistress Shuang surely wouldn’t mind her coming to stay. She might as well go and spend a few days there.
Pu Zhu finally felt some energy returning. She got up from the bed, summoned the maids to pack her things, changed into riding clothes suited for travel on horseback, put on a shielding veil hat, and went out. Before leaving, she told the maids that when Ju A’mu woke, they should tell her she had gone to stay at the Shuang clan estate for a few days. Then she had someone bring her red horse, took a few attendants, and left the fortress. She swung herself into the saddle and was just about to set off when Luo Bao came running up from behind upon hearing the news, seized her horse’s reins, and refused to let go. He said he wanted to come along.
Pu Zhu sat on horseback, thought for a moment, and said: “When Prince Qin comes back, there needs to be someone to attend to him. Stay here and wait for him.”
And so it was that on the night Li Xuandu returned to Shuang clan city a few days earlier than planned—dusty and travel-worn—the one waiting to receive him was not the dear little wife he had thought of all the way home, the one he hadn’t seen in nearly two months. It was his capable subordinate Ye Xiao.
The situation was as follows: when he arrived it was not particularly early—already the middle of the Hour of the Dog. Ye Xiao, upon receiving word, hurried with his men to meet him outside the fortress. Seeing that only he and a few light-riding guards had returned, with Han Rongchang and Zhang Zhuo nowhere in sight, Ye Xiao asked about it. He explained that Han Rongchang had stayed behind to continue wrapping things up, and that Zhang Zhuo was still on the road behind him with the main force—their pace was slower, and they would arrive in a couple of days.
He exchanged a few more words, and while walking quickly inside, asked about the affairs of the Protectorate during his absence.
Ye Xiao suddenly had more to say than he could get through. He described everything that had happened since the day of Li Xuandu’s departure: how the Princess Consort had played polo in his place to hold everyone’s attention, and then how she had managed the various guests, slowly releasing information according to plan. He went on to describe the final day of the grand occasion—how the Princess Consort, with a casual remark, had put the Shache king in his place, and then how she had silenced the entire assembly with the Aqini king’s severed head, making an example of him to deter all the rest. When Hufeng’s head was also delivered and the whole place erupted in jubilation, the crowd surged toward the high platform where the Princess Consort was, each competing to pledge their loyalty to her.
Even now, telling the story, Ye Xiao still felt his blood stir. When he spoke of the Princess Consort, his tone was full of respect and admiration.
Li Xuandu listened with fascination. Without realizing it, his steps grew faster and faster. He quickly passed through the maze passage and arrived at the rear hall—only to find no trace of the graceful figure he had been expecting. Instead, Luo Bao stood at the entrance to receive him.
He stopped mid-step and looked at Ye Xiao.
Ye Xiao understood what he meant and quickly explained: “I was just about to say—unfortunately, the Princess Consort is not here tonight. I understand she left for Mistress Shuang’s place this afternoon and hasn’t returned yet.”
Li Xuandu was startled. His steps came to a complete stop: “Did she say when she would be back?”
Ye Xiao signaled Luo Bao to come forward and answer.
Luo Bao hurried over and was about to bow in greeting when Li Xuandu waved him off and immediately asked: “What did the Princess Consort say—when is she returning?”
Luo Bao replied: “The Princess Consort didn’t tell this servant. But from what Ju A’mu said, it sounds like she intends to stay a few days.”
Li Xuandu looked at him: “Why didn’t you go with her to attend to her?”
“The Princess Consort said Your Highness would also need someone to attend to him when you returned, and told this servant to stay behind.”
Li Xuandu was displeased: “How many times have I told you before—when the Princess Consort goes out, you go with her? I don’t need you to attend to me!”
Luo Bao, hearing Prince Qin reproach him, quickly made his excuses: he had very much wanted to go attend the Princess Consort, but the Princess Consort wouldn’t take him along, and there was nothing he could do. He then added with a mournful expression: “This servant has been reflecting on it, and after much thought, I think it may be because I said something wrong today, and that’s why the Princess Consort didn’t want this servant’s attendance anymore!”
Li Xuandu frowned slightly: “What did you say?”
“This servant thought the Princess Consort was with child…”
Li Xuandu was taken aback.
Luo Bao recounted the misunderstanding from that day, then mumbled: “It’s entirely this servant’s fault for jumping to conclusions—hearing the wind and taking it for rain, and causing embarrassment to the Princess Consort…”
It was only now that Li Xuandu learned that Ye Xiao had such joyous news. His first reaction was astonishment.
How was that possible?
Ye Xiao had only recently married—how long had it even been?
And Royal Sister Ruo Yue had news already, so quickly?
He was going to be a father?!
Li Xuandu stood there in a daze for a moment, then finally came back to himself. He quickly turned to Ye Xiao, a sincere smile crossing his face, and offered congratulations one after another, asking when he had learned the news.
Ye Xiao remained composed as always, but a joy he could not conceal shone in his eyes: “My wife had been drowsy all day recently, and seemed in poor spirits. I thought she was unwell. Today when I called a physician, we learned she is expecting.”
Li Xuandu suppressed the sudden inexplicable surge of something that felt like envy in the depths of his heart, kept saying “wonderful, wonderful,” congratulated him two more times with a smile, and said: “That being so, go back quickly—don’t linger here on my account any longer.”
He paused briefly and added: “You’ve also worked hard these past days. Going forward, if any matters at hand are not urgent, hand them off to someone else. You should spend more time with Royal Sister—there’s no need to worry.”
Ye Xiao beamed, thanked him, and wasted no more time in taking his leave.
Li Xuandu watched the light, quick figure of Ye Xiao as he turned and walked away. For a long while he could not come back to himself from the news he had just heard. He remained where he stood, still unable to move his feet.
They had been apart for nearly two months. Afraid she had missed him too much, eager for her to see his face, secretly looking forward to her flinging herself joyfully into his arms—he had pushed himself through the journey without complaint and come back a few days early. Yet here he found an empty room and no one waiting.
She had left him behind and gone off to the Shuang clan estate.
He simply could not wait until tomorrow.
If he had to wait until tomorrow, how was he supposed to get through tonight?
He wanted to see her—right now, immediately.
If it came to that, he could thicken his face a little and spend the night over there with her—that was fine too.
But there was one problem.
She had only just gone there today, and it was already late. If he turned up at this hour to fetch her in the middle of the night, it would be somewhat discourteous to the Shuang household.
Go, or not go?
He slanted his gaze at Luo Bao, who was standing to one side making no sound at all: “Should I go and bring the Princess Consort back?”
Luo Bao immediately replied: “Since Your Highness has asked, this servant will venture a word—you absolutely must go! Your Highness, there is something you don’t know: the Princess Consort was thoroughly exhausted in the days before, sleeping poorly. Her health was already weakened. That day she was also frightened by those two severed heads—she had quite a shock. She is likely still feeling somewhat unwell even now. Your Highness cares deeply for the Princess Consort, and so the moment you returned you didn’t stop to rest for a moment before riding through the night to go see her. How could Mistress Shuang possibly find that discourteous?”
Li Xuandu gave a slight nod: “What you say is entirely correct.”
He finished speaking, turned, and strode outside. He mounted his horse and rode straight out of the city, urging his horse to full speed. In the brilliant light of the full moon overhead, he galloped toward the estate.