The summer night in Lingzhou differed from the capital. A humid breeze carried the lingering heat of the day.
Ming Tan refused to reply, and Jiang Xu didn’t press her. After a brief pause, he quietly left the inner chamber. He walked outside and stood motionless on the steps, lost in thought.
Meanwhile, Ming Tan curled up in her blanket, feigning sleep. Her mind was in turmoil, anxiety creeping in due to the uncertainty of her situation.
She knew she had always been fond of her husband. Yet, her affection was rooted in his exceptional appearance, status, character, and talent—all qualities that defined him as her husband.
Her love and admiration were built on the premise that this man was her husband.
Had there been no upheaval, no imperial marriage decree, she would have loved and devoted herself to Liang Zixuan or Shu Jingran just the same, had either been chosen as her husband. Wasn’t it natural for a wife to follow and be of one heart with her husband?
This had always been her belief. Now, she wasn’t so sure. Would she truly risk her life for any husband in times of danger, unwilling to live without him?
As she closed her eyes, unbidden images of moments shared with her husband flooded her mind.
He was always a man of few words—dignified, aloof, and sometimes visibly impatient. Yet with her, he showed a gentler side, patient and accommodating…
A sudden thought made Ming Tan’s head pop out from under the covers. She rolled over, her lips unconsciously curving into a smile, her heart a mix of conflicting emotions and sweetness.
After a while, she peeked over the edge of the bed and called out tentatively, “Husband? Ah Tan is a bit hungry.”
A faint “Mm” came from outside. Soon after, Jiang Xu entered with servants bringing the night meal.
…
On such a fine night, it would be a shame to waste it.
Shu Jingran was leisurely appreciating the moon in a secluded spot, about to play his flute, when he spotted Yun Yi half-leaning against a nearby eave, rather unromantically gnawing on a chicken leg. He couldn’t help but call out, “Miss Yun.”
Seeing him, Yun Yi slowed her chewing and instinctively wiped the oil from her mouth.
“Second Young Master Shu.”
Shu Jingran nodded and leaped onto the eave.
“Second Young Master Shu, you know martial arts?” Yun Yi was somewhat surprised, having not noticed his skills during their journey.
“A little,” Shu Jingran smiled, brushing off the tiles before sitting down.
His modesty was warranted; from his lightness skills, Yun Yi could tell his inner strength wasn’t profound, likely just enough for self-defense.
She had only eaten half her chicken leg and felt awkward continuing alone. Yet, she was reluctant to set it aside. After a moment’s hesitation, she offered him the other packet of chicken legs she’d been keeping warm: “Here, Second Young Master Shu, please have some.”
Shu Jingran lowered his gaze and smiled, “Thank you, Miss Yun.”
His gentle features, especially when smiling, were as refreshing as a spring breeze. Yun Yi was momentarily stunned, quickly withdrawing her hand and resuming her meal, albeit more demurely.
“Is this Lingzhou’s camphor tea chicken?” Shu Jingran asked after sniffing the aroma.
Yun Yi nodded, “I found the busiest shop. They’ve been in business for three dynasties. They start cooking at the third watch every day and sell dozens of pots. The camphor tea fragrance is quite strong. Please try it, Second Young Master Shu.”
Shu Jingran was tempted but found it rather challenging to eat with his bare hands. After a moment’s consideration, he said, “I’ve just had my night meal. I’ll certainly savor it when I return to my quarters.”
Yun Yi glanced at the chicken leg in his hand and nodded slowly, not saying much.
“By the way, I’ve been curious about something, Miss Yun. Why are you so fond of roast chicken?” Shu Jingran asked, his curiosity piqued.
Yun Yi looked puzzled, “Roast chicken is delicious. Besides, it’s not just chicken—I love roast duck and goose too. I enjoy all tasty food.”
Shu Jingran smiled again.
Yun Yi lowered her gaze, quickly finishing the remaining half of her chicken leg. With a muffled voice, she said, “The Jinyun Guard has no parents. We all eat a lot. Perhaps it’s because we experienced famine as children, though I don’t remember.”
Hearing this, Shu Jingran paused, “I apologize for my insensitivity.”
“It’s a fact that the Jinyun Guard has no parents, and not remembering childhood hardships is a blessing. There’s no need for apologies, Second Young Master Shu.”
“Your open-mindedness is admirable, Miss Yun.”
“Second Young Master Shu, do all scholars speak like this?” Yun Yi felt somewhat embarrassed. “Or is it just those who placed third in the imperial exams?”
“‘Like this’… in what way?” Shu Jingran inquired.
“Well… very good at complimenting people?” Yun Yi rubbed her nose. “Always mindful of others’ feelings.” Unlike her lord, who frequently told people to scramble or bring him their heads.
Shu Jingran smiled faintly, “Life is challenging enough. It’s best not to add to others’ burdens. In my youth, I was thoughtless and once hurt a classmate with my words, unaware of his struggles at home. My careless cruelty nearly drove him to take his own life. After reflecting on my mistakes, I learned to be gentler.”
Yun Yi nodded, not fully comprehending but understanding the sentiment.
Shu Jingran gazed at the moon, suddenly inspired, “Would you like to hear a tune, Miss Yun?” He gently stroked his jade flute.
“Yes, please.”
Shu Jingran stood up, cutting a graceful figure under the moonlight. Moved by the moment, he began to play “West River Moon” with fluid elegance.
As the long melody concluded, Shu Jingran slowly lowered his flute, “This piece, ‘West River Moon,’ is divided into three parts. The first part…”
Shu Jingran turned around to see Yun Yi nodding off.
“Miss Yun?”
Yun Yi’s head suddenly dropped, and she opened her eyes in confusion, instinctively wiping potential drool from her mouth, “Oh, three parts, right, three parts.”
The tune had been quite soporific. She had intended to listen attentively but found it uninteresting and dozed off within moments. These scholars had peculiar tastes indeed.
…
“That rendition of ‘West River Moon’ was beautiful,” Ming Tan praised, her face cupped in her hands as she waited for Jiang Xu to feed her the night meal. “The first part was ethereal, like the hazy early moon. The middle part was serene, like moonlight flowing across the sky. The final part was long and lingering, with echoing aftereffects. I’ve heard that Second Young Master Shu is skilled with both flute and xiao and now I can attest to his reputation.”
Jiang Xu’s hand paused as he was about to scoop some porridge. His voice remained calm, “The Princess seems quite interested in duets. Perhaps another day, I’ll invite Shu Jingran to play with you.”
“Really? That would be wonderful!” Ming Tan’s eyes lit up, nodding enthusiastically.
Jiang Xu: “…”
He tapped the silver spoon on the edge of the bowl before offering it to her.
Ming Tan was about to say more but, seeing the spoon approach, leaned in to take a small sip. She immediately frowned, “It’s hot!”
“If it’s hot, talk less.”
“…”
Realizing her husband hadn’t truly intended to invite Second Young Master Shu for a duet, Ming Tan let out a dejected “Oh.”
–
Because Ming Tan and Yun Yi had inadvertently saved Qiuyue, Jiang Xu soon obtained the evidence left by Zhou Baoping. This matter obviously couldn’t be kept from the Xiu family, so the next day, Lingzhou’s Maritime Trade Commissioner Yu Bozhong sent a visiting card to Jiang Xu.
When Ming Tan heard about this, she was in the courtyard studying grinding ink for Jiang Xu. “Husband, what is Yu Bozhong’s relationship with the Xiu family?”
“He’s their son-in-law.”
That explained why he didn’t share the Xiu surname.
Jiang Xu set down his brush and instructed the messenger, “Invite him to the study.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Ming Tan hesitated, “You’re meeting him here, husband?”
“Is there a problem?”
Ming Tan shook her head. It wasn’t that there was a problem, she had just assumed they would host a formal banquet or meet in the reception hall with the perfect present.
Understanding the situation, she put down the ink stick, “Then Ah Tan will return to her room.”
She intended to leave, but Yu Bozhong seemed to have sprouted wings, arriving outside in the brief span of their conversation. Confused, she instinctively looked to Jiang Xu for guidance.
Jiang Xu, unfazed, merely glanced at the folding screen.
Ming Tan understood and hurriedly hid behind it. In her haste, she forgot that she had been sweating while grinding ink and had left her gauze outer robe on the chair outside.
“This humble official, Yu Bozhong, pays respects to His Highness the Prince of Dingbei. May Your Highness enjoy ten thousand years of peace.”
Yu Bozhong appeared to be nearing thirty, slightly portly and entered with a deep, respectful bow to Jiang Xu.
Jiang Xu didn’t even raise his eyes, his voice cold, “Official Yu, spare the theatrics. I can ensure my peace.”
Yu Bozhong: “…”
He had heard of the Prince of Dingbei’s fearsome reputation, but he hadn’t expected someone so young to command such authority. A single sentence left him sweating, unsure how to proceed.
Ming Tan, hidden behind the screen, was also surprised by her husband’s directness, apparently not intending to engage in verbal sparring with the visitor.
“Since you’ve come to see me today, you must already know the situation. I don’t wish to entangle further with your Maritime Trade Commission. I can return the evidence but on two conditions.
“First, fully repay the tax allocations from Lingzhou for the past two years, and cease all future embezzlement from Lingzhou port. Second, Zhou Baoping was a loyal official and must not die unjustly.”
Yu Bozhong began to sweat profusely, “This…”
“If you lack the authority to decide, return and discuss it with those who can. Someone, see the guest out.”
Yu Bozhong was completely bewildered. He had spent all night preparing his arguments, only to be given just enough time for a formal greeting. However, as he was being escorted out, his sharp eyes caught sight of the gauze robe on the chair.
Upon returning, Yu Bozhong vented his frustrations to his father-in-law.
“…This Prince of Dingbei is indeed formidable. He gave me no chance to speak. The matter of Zhou Baoping can be resolved easily enough—we can sacrifice a few people and fabricate a plausible cause of death. But the tax allocations, Father-in-law, having to repay nearly two years’ worth is too harsh. Where will the Maritime Trade Commission find so much silver on such short notice!”
The elder Mr. Xiu pondered for a moment, “While ceasing future embezzlement of tax allocations might be feasible, repaying the past two years doesn’t seem like His Majesty’s idea.”
“You mean this is the Prince of Dingbei’s demand?”
“The Empress Dowager’s messages have always prepared us to relinquish the tax allocations but never mentioned repaying past years. His Majesty shouldn’t push so aggressively on past matters.”
Yu Bozhong considered this, “Could it be that the recent fire has displeased the Prince?”
The elder Mr. Xiu snorted, “Another of your foolish actions!”
Yu Bozhong looked sheepish, “I’ll do my best to make amends, Father-in-law.”
“How do you plan to make amends? Will you gather the tax silver yourself?”
“It’s like this when I met the Prince of Dingbei today, I noticed…” Yu Bozhong suddenly leaned in and whispered something to his father-in-law. “If we can appease the Prince’s anger, perhaps there’s room for negotiation on these terms.”
Hearing this, the elder Mr. Xiu’s expression softened, “Get to it, then.”
“Yes, right away.” Yu Bozhong hurried out.