“Brother-in-law?”

Fu Xuanmiao smiled faintly and repeated the title Bai Rongling had just used. But unlike Bai Rongling’s stumbling delivery, his own smooth and deep voice carried an edge of piercing cold.

“Has the young master’s brother-in-law not already been replaced by someone else?”

That thinly veiled remark was enough to make Bai Rongling want to kowtow to him!

Father! Grandfather! That godforsaken dirt-footed duck — where are you?!

“Ha ha… ha…” Bai Rongling gave a hollow laugh. “Brother-in-law is certainly fond of jesting…”

“It would appear that when young master Bai was last in Xiangyang, he already knew that Princess of Yue had not in fact perished,” he said softly. “Not only knew — but even helped to keep it concealed…”

When he had still been standing beneath the osmanthus tree with no knowledge of where Shen Zhuxi had gone if not Xiangyang, the moment he laid eyes on Bai Rongling, he had his answer.

After her reunion with Bai Rongling, she had not sought his assistance. Instead, she had brought Li Wu with her to Yangzhou to see Bai Yougang.

It had been her own choice.

She had willingly chosen to remain at the side of a lowborn man with neither father nor mother — a man who had crawled up from nothing — rather than return to his side.

No other truth was more capable of shattering him completely than this one.

Fu Xuanmiao moved at an unhurried pace until he stood before Bai Rongling. His glacial gaze looked down at him as Bai Rongling involuntarily hunched his shoulders, and then, as though he had only just noticed him kneeling there, Fu Xuanmiao reached out and lifted him to his feet. He spoke softly, each word laced with bone-chilling frost:

“…Young master Bai, you are truly full of surprises. As you watched me lift an unidentified woman’s body in Shoupingcun, what were you thinking inside? It must have felt rather satisfying, I imagine?”

Bai Rongling, beyond hollow laughter, had no idea what to say.

Lying to an intelligent person — that, one might attempt.

Lying to an extraordinarily intelligent person — that was nothing but humiliating oneself.

Even the impulse to lie his way out of this did not arise in Bai Rongling now, for he understood that at this point, any lie was only self-abasement.

Right now, he wished he could just close his eyes and pass out cold — anything would be better than kneeling here with his heart hammering in his chest. Even when his grandfather had come at him with the family rod, he had never been this frightened! His grandfather might beat him badly enough that he couldn’t get out of bed, but Fu Xuanmiao was different — the Fu family could not only put the entire family in bed, they could find any pretext they liked to throw the whole household into prison.

What had possessed him that day to have climbed aboard that accursed duck’s scheming boat?

“Bro-brother-in-law… I was forced into it too! I don’t even know how things developed this far. I — I was only trying to find the princess myself, so Father would see me in a different light. I — I’m absolutely on your side, but how was I to know the princess had already married? I — I was frightened! So then… and then…”

Bai Rongling’s words were completely incoherent, his only thought to separate himself and the Bai Family from any blame. He stumbled over himself and blurted out:

“I don’t even know how things came to this… blame me if you must! The Bai Family has nothing to do with this! All of this is my fault for withholding what I knew!”

“Why would I blame you?” Fu Xuanmiao’s voice was gentle, but his complexion was as cold and cutting as frost. Bai Rongling had been kneeling for some time; only now did Fu Xuanmiao seem to notice, as though for the first time, and reached out a hand to help him up, saying softly, “Since you don’t know how things came to this, then organize your thoughts carefully and tell me the details in the carriage.”

“In the carriage?” Bai Rongling’s eyes went wide. “The two of us?”

Fu Xuanmiao looked at him and said nothing.

Bai Rongling’s eyes grew even wider, round as a pair of copper bells.

“Going where?”

Fu Xuanmiao finally spoke.

He looked at Bai Rongling and let three words fall quietly from his lips: “To Yangzhou.”

……

As summer settled in, Yangzhou gradually grew warmer. One afternoon, Shen Zhuxi lay on her couch in the silkworm-silk garment the Bai Family had gifted her, drifting toward sleep. The fan in her hand moved more and more slowly, until Ti Niang came in carrying a bowl of chilled sour plum soup, rousing her from her drowsiness.

In the sticky heat of Yangzhou, what could be more refreshing than a bowl of chilled sour plum soup?

Shen Zhuxi drained the entire bowl with satisfaction, and only after setting it down did she notice Ti Niang’s peculiar expression. She was staring at her, wide-eyed and unblinking, as though she had never in her life seen anyone drink sour plum soup — her face showing a mixture of half-delight and half-uncertainty.

“…What is the matter?” Shen Zhuxi was startled.

“Madam —” Ti Niang hesitated, seemingly on the verge of speaking. “Have you not noticed that your monthly cycle is already three days late?”

“Is it?” Shen Zhuxi was taken aback.

“Three days — I’ve been keeping careful track for you!” Ti Niang said with full certainty. “This month it is a full three days late, and what’s more, Madam has been craving sour things lately and sleeping more than usual. Madam… could you be with child?”

It was fortunate that Shen Zhuxi had already finished that bowl of sour plum soup, for had she not, she would surely have choked on it at that very moment.

“W-w-with child?!” She was so alarmed that all the color drained from her face, and she stammered in her fright.

“Yes!” said Ti Niang. “Your cycle hasn’t come, you’re craving sour things, and you’ve been sleeping more — what else could it be if not that you’re with child?”

“Surely… surely not?” Shen Zhuxi instinctively shook her head.

Ti Niang couldn’t understand how something so wonderful happening to Shen Zhuxi could possibly receive such a horrified reaction.

She furrowed her brow in puzzlement, thought for a moment, and said, “Shall I go and find a physician outside, Madam, and bring him back under the pretext of checking your pulse for peace of mind?”

“No!” Shen Zhuxi refused without a second thought. Once the words were out, she caught herself, steadied her composure, and said, “There’s no need just yet… let’s wait a bit longer. You’re too impatient — my cycle is only three days late; it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m with child.”

Shen Zhuxi spoke in a reassuring tone, though it was unclear whether she was reassuring Ti Niang or herself: “Let’s wait a few more days and see… oh, and you must absolutely not breathe a word of this to Li Wu.”

Though she didn’t understand why, Ti Niang still agreed to Shen Zhuxi’s request.

With that, Shen Zhuxi had no heart left for an afternoon nap. She lay on the bed and tossed and turned without being able to sleep at all. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the basin after basin of blood carried out of Lady Zhang’s chamber as she labored and could not deliver.

Could she really be with child?

The more Shen Zhuxi thought about it, the more uncertain she felt; the more she thought, the more frightened she became. Had Li Wu not said he always took his medicine beforehand? How could it have happened anyway? She was only eighteen — she was not yet prepared to be a mother. And most of all — she was afraid.

She was afraid of becoming another Lady Zhang. She was afraid she would never again be able to be by Li Wu’s side, never again see Li Kun, Li Que, Sui Rui, Jiu Niang, and the other familiar faces.

Afraid of departing from this world and then being forgotten by everyone.

Perhaps she was worrying needlessly.

Her mother had once said that childbirth was the gate of death that every woman passes through.

As though this were the most ordinary thing in the world — as though it was entirely natural for a woman to risk her life in childbirth.

Shen Zhuxi could not understand why her mother and other women who had given birth felt no fear. Just as others could not understand why she feared something so commonplace.

She wanted to talk it over with Li Wu, but Li Wu had been called out early in the morning by Bai Anji to drink tea, and had not returned until now.

As she waited for Li Wu to come home, the unease and dread inside Shen Zhuxi with nowhere to go gradually transformed into anger.

If not for Li Wu pestering her every night, if not for Li Wu whining and playing pitiful whenever he was unhappy, if not for Li Wu choosing a useless contraceptive brew — would she be lying here alone, tormented by worry?

While she sat here on tenterhooks, sick with anxiety, he was out there with his legs crossed drinking tea!

Shen Zhuxi grew angrier the more she thought about it. She climbed off the bed, balled up her fist, and furiously beat Li Wu’s pillow.

Rotten Li Wu! Li Duck!

Stinking duck, stinking duck! He was infuriating her to death! And there he was drinking tea! Drinking tea! May he choke!

“Cough, cough, cough…”

Out on the shimmering Qinhuai River, an unexpected fit of coughing erupted from inside a pleasure boat.

Li Wu set down his teacup and coughed forcefully.

“Will no one help Lord Li with his coughing?” said Bai Anji.

Li Wu waved off the beautiful maidservant who stepped forward, and patted his own chest, coughing vigorously a few more times until he finally managed to dislodge the tea leaf that had gone down his windpipe.

“What happened to Lord Li?” Bai Anji watched him with a perceptive gaze.

“This tea — rough on the throat. Don’t like it.” Li Wu turned to the maidservant beside him and said, “Is there any hard liquor? Bring me a couple of catties to clear my throat —”

The pleasure boat fell silent. After a moment, the maidservant said with an apologetic look, “We don’t have hard liquor…”

Bai Anji spoke up: “If Lord Li wishes to drink, once we go ashore we can dine at the Bafang Pavilion — the finest establishment in Yangzhou. Their Du Kang wine is exceptional.”

“Du Kang wine is like watered-down fake liquor — nothing compared to a proper spirit,” said Li Wu with a look of disdain. “This boat doesn’t even stock hard liquor — what a mean and shabby operation! What kind of business is this? You’ll be closing down sooner or later!”

He hooked his arm around Bai Anji’s neck and hauled him in close toward his face — Bai Anji, doing his best to lean back away — and said with great excitement:

“On my way back from Chunfeng Tower last time, I found a tavern — the spirit they serve there has a real kick to it! I’ve already made enquiries: that tavern also sells dinner after the hour of Shen. What do you say we eat there instead? I’m treating! Not a word of protest!”

Every maidservant and manservant on the pleasure boat stared wide-eyed at the scene of Bai Anji — a man who commanded the wind and rain across Jiangnan — struggling inside Li Wu’s grip.

Bai Anji had not expected that at the age of forty, someone would dare to put him in a headlock. Did he think he was dealing with some common street ruffian? In forty years of life, this was the first time anyone had dared treat him this way!

“Lord Li…” Bai Anji struggled to maintain his composure. “Let go first…”

“Why are you being so distant with me!” Li Wu acted as though they were the oldest of friends, saying in an easy, offhand manner, “Before long, I’ll be becoming the adopted grandson of your father, and we’ll be separated by a generation — which means we can no longer treat each other as peers as we do today. We ought to take advantage of these few remaining opportunities to get closer and better acquainted. Don’t you agree?”

Bai Anji could not find the words to refuse.

Because Li Wu had locked his throat, and Bai Anji could only manage two gasps of fresh air by struggling within his arm.

In that brief moment, he even felt a flash of regret: had he known things would come to this, he should never have rejected the title of “senior uncle” — at the very least, a senior uncle would not have a headlock put on him by a twenty-something young upstart with no way to object!

After the pleasure boat docked, Bai Anji was forcibly dragged by Li Wu to the tavern he had been talking about. At a greasy, battered wooden table, he drank the most throat-scorching liquor of his entire life. When they walked out of the tavern, Bai Anji was already unsteady on his feet and needed a servant to support him, while Li Wu, by contrast, remained full of vigor and energy, each step sure and lively.

He had no solution.

Bai Anji fled into his own carriage and resolved to go home and confess his failure to his father: he had truly been unable to make any impression whatsoever on Li Wu.

If only Bai Rongling were here — he couldn’t help but think. That worrisome little wretch had no particular talents, but for getting on people’s nerves he was first-rate. He should have sent him to entertain Li Wu instead — perhaps fighting fire with fire might have worked.

On the other end, Li Wu had cadged a sprig of mint from the servant driving the Shen family’s carriage and tossed it into his mouth.

He dropped into the soft cushions of the carriage interior, sprawled out carelessly, and kicked open the half-latched carriage window with his foot. He watched the street scenery receding outside the window and hummed a little tune.

After the tune left his lips, he suddenly thought of Li Que, who had taught him that melody. The ease on his face faltered, and his mood gradually grew heavy.

He sat upright, his gaze growing somber as he stared out the window at the bright moon in the distance.

The moonlight, shifting through shadows and light, cast a layer of silver across the cold floor of a prison cell as the night wind carried the moon to its highest point in the sky. The great prison was utterly silent, broken only by the occasional moan of someone in pain. With a creak, the entrance to the prison at the far end let out a sound as the door swung open.

A tall silhouette walked in.

The sound of footsteps broke the silence of the prison. Roused prisoners, like mice in their burrows, peered through the shadows at the man making his way between the rows of cells.

The man was dressed in official robes, his bearing composed and dignified, with the manner of one long accustomed to a position of authority.

He walked to a cell at the end of the corridor and his footsteps slowly came to a stop.

“Ping’er…”

Fu Ruzhi gazed in astonishment at the young man who had been leaning against the cold stone wall and now slowly opened his eyes. His gaze fell on the hollowed-out half of that young man’s face.

Li Que slowly rose to his feet. In the fractured moonlight of the cell, he knelt before Fu Ruzhi.

His forehead met the ground in a kowtow, and he said, slowly:

“Your unfilial son Rong Ping pays his respects to his adoptive father.”