Pregnancy seemed to have taken a toll on her health. She used to be able to climb trees and wade through rivers without a problem, but now she couldn’t manage much—just a few steps would leave her breathless. She was also constantly drowsy, as if sleep clung stubbornly to her eyelids, making it impossible to keep them open even under the bright sun.
Xiazhi often teased her, “You’re like a drunk cat these days, always sleeping and never smiling. Things were better before—when you were busy scraping by for food, you didn’t even think about revenge. But now? You’re stuck in this limbo, miserable yourself and exhausting everyone else.”
She hummed in response. “As you grow older, you can’t stay ignorant of sorrow forever. If you found a brother you were close to, only for him to die in front of you after a year, you’d understand.”
Xiazhi chewed on a dry stalk of grass as he leaned against a pillar, pondering before nodding. “True, losing something after having it—whether it’s a brother or even a pet—would break anyone’s heart.” His words earned him a glare, and he chuckled awkwardly. “Honestly, you shouldn’t have met the Twelfth Master in the first place. All your troubles started after getting involved with him. Otherwise, where would all this drama come from? People should know their limits—bite off more than you can chew, and now you’re choking, aren’t you? Indigestion, huh?”
Truthfully, he was speaking out of selfishness. Having missed his chance with his childhood sweetheart, he often felt an emptiness inside. But then he realized—wasn’t the Twelfth Master the one who’d asked him to persuade her? Was he going about this the wrong way? Poaching someone else’s love wasn’t right. He coughed to cover his unease. “About that house you asked me to find—I couldn’t get one. Beijing’s packed these days. Poor folks with nothing to do after work just make babies to pass the time. You’ve seen it—two adults with a whole swarm of kids trailing behind, like tadpoles, all needing a roof over their heads. Besides, if the Twelfth Master found out I was trying to split you two up, he’d have me burned alive. Don’t make this hard for me—your brother’s your brother, but so’s your shixiong. And it’s not bad living here—you’ve got food and shelter, so make do. You’re already carrying a child—what’ll happen if you keep pushing yourself? You can’t just wander the world with a little Prince in tow. That’s someone else’s child.”
Dingyi glared at him again. “What do you mean ‘someone else’s child’? Isn’t it in my belly?”
“You—you just haven’t learned enough about wifely virtues. If a man loves you…” He wiggled his thumb. “You’re this. But if he doesn’t care about you, you’d better rely on your child for status, got it? Take the imperial family, for example—how many sons become Princes or Beiles while their mothers remain mere noble consorts? Don’t think just because the child came from your belly, you get to decide its fate. It’s just entrusted to you for now—they’ll come to claim it later. If you lose it or hide it, you’ll have hell to pay. Women shouldn’t have so many opinions. You’ve got a courtyard—just stay put and wait to give birth. You still want to go out and live alone? Who do you think you are? Been reading too many novels?”
Dingyi was fuming. “Why are you so long-winded? Did you come here just to mock me?”
“We’re close, so I don’t mince words. With anyone else, I wouldn’t even bother!” Xiazhi shot her a sidelong glance. “Now that you’re pregnant, you should hurry and have the Twelfth Master report it. The palace should issue an edict soon. If you wait till the child’s born, what’ll people say? They’ll talk behind your back.”
She turned away, frowning. “Mind your own business. I know what I’m doing.”Xiazhi sighed, "That's enough. There should be limits to everything. The Twelfth Master is kind-hearted and indulges you in every way. If it were me, I'd just tie you up, stuff you into the bridal sedan, and shove you into the wedding chamber. You'd have to accept it whether you wanted to or not."
Just as he said, there should be limits—even in persuasion. Repeating the same thing over and over would only make the listener's ears grow calloused, rendering it ineffective. He shifted his gaze to the branches, where pomegranate buds had just sprouted, faintly hinting at spring. Squinting, he said, "Yesterday, the Suo family sent their daughter away. I followed them to Red Snail Temple to investigate. Hailan didn’t take the tonsure—she’s keeping her hair and living as a lay practitioner. Her mother said she’d let her stay at the temple to clear her mind. Once she comes to terms with things, she can return to secular life. But if she shaves her head, there’d be no hope left, and her mother would rather die right in front of her."
Dingyi listened with a sorrowful expression. "No matter how much I tried to persuade her, she wouldn’t listen. Maybe staying at the temple for a while will do her good. I can’t see her off—after all, it’s because of Rujian. I don’t have the face to face her family. I’ll visit her in a few days to comfort her. It’d be best if she could come back—she’s their only daughter, and her parents will need someone to care for them in the future. As for Lord Suo, go on my behalf and tell him I’m sorry. Hailan was held back because of us siblings."
Xiazhi agreed. "Don’t take all the blame on yourself. Everyone has their own fate, decided the moment they’re born." Then he changed the subject. "Do you remember Seventh Lord’s squirrel-eyed one? That slippery one."
Dingyi gasped. "The one we stole last time?"
"That one got eaten. There was originally a pair—one’s left. Plus the Shaanxi hound the Twelfth Master compensated him with, two in total. Seventh Lord gave them both to me."
"Weren’t those his lifelines? He gave them to you?"
Xiazhi grinned. "Yeah. He’s about to get married and is too busy to take care of them. Later, Najin went to fetch the dog and accidentally let slip—it turns out their new Fujin forbade him from keeping them. Said indulging in trivial pleasures would sap his ambition."
Seventh Lord could hardly show his face these days. It was said Xiaoman Fujin kept a tight rein on him. Even before the wedding, she inspected the prince’s residence every few days, nitpicking everything and demanding it all be done her way. Seventh Lord had finally met his match. He used to be so arrogant, bowing to no one, but no matter how unruly he was, he couldn’t escape her grasp. How could a pampered prince who got winded after a few steps contend with a Mongolian princess skilled in archery and horsemanship? Add to that the smiling tiger-like Prince Bao, and Seventh Lord’s defeat was absolute.
Dingyi leaned against a pillar and sighed. In truth, Seventh Lord was a fortunate man—good things came to him even in his obliviousness. In comparison, the Twelfth Master had it much harder—no influential father-in-law to rely on, no prestigious Principal Wife to speak of. Life had never been easy for him, and after getting involved with her, it became even more difficult. Sometimes she indulged in wild thoughts—how wonderful it would be if they could return to the past. He could live his own life without being tormented into confusion. As for her, she’d stay in the tenement, take on odd jobs, earn a few coins to buy wine and treats for her master. Now, though she lacked nothing materially, her heart felt hollow. Every morning she woke up unsure why she was alive. She watched the sun rise in the morning and set in the evening, buried herself in sleep, and before she knew it, another day had passed.She placed her hand on her belly, where a little life lay, though she couldn’t feel anything yet. It was her first time being a mother, yet some instinct seemed to take hold, making her reluctant to part with it. But after much deliberation, she knew she had to make a decision. People change with time. Back then, she was naive, knowing nothing beyond survival in the streets. Ignorance breeds fearlessness—that was her then. She acted on impulse, unburdened by understanding or care. But now, the more she learned, the smaller her courage became, shrinking from the size of a bowl to a sesame seed, nearly vanishing altogether. Fear had taken root.
Why was marriage called "finding a mother-in-law’s home"? Did she think the prince’s household would shut its doors and live in isolation? How naive! There were court visits to make, greetings to offer in the gardens, and gatherings of Princess Consorts and titled ladies—where did she fit in?
She looked up at Xiazhi. "Brother, get me a chicken."
Xiazhi readily agreed. "Do you want beggar’s chicken or white-cut chicken? There’s a new restaurant outside Qianmen—their spicy chicken is quite good..."
"I want a live one," she said. "It doesn’t need to be big, just small enough to sneak in unnoticed."
Xiazhi was startled. "What are you planning? Are you up to no good? No, I can’t do that. If Master finds out, he’ll skin me alive." He hurried down the steps. "I’ve got duties to attend to. I’ll come see you tomorrow. Take care."
Dingyi called after him, but he ignored her, tucking his hands into his sleeves as he headed for the gate.
No sooner had Xiazhi left than Sha Tong arrived, bowing slightly. "Mistress, your uncle is at the gate, waiting for permission to enter."
She glanced up and saw a man in a dark blue lined robe standing under the eaves, rubbing his hands together as he peered inside.
Zhou Fuyang was Dingyi’s maternal uncle, holding a fifth-rank official post. He was neither particularly honest nor shrewd. The Zhou family had a tradition of women taking charge. Back when Dingyi had fallen on hard times and sought refuge with them, her uncle and aunt had been home—yet they refused to open the door. She and her wet nurse had stood in the rain for two hours, waiting. Even now, the memory filled her with resentment. But family ties couldn’t be ignored, so she had Sha Tong usher him in.
Zhou Fuyang approached as if greeting a superior, bending at the waist and sweeping his sleeves in a kowtow. "Greetings to the Princess Consort."
Dingyi frowned. "Don’t do that. I’m no Princess Consort." She turned to a maid. "Fetch a seat for Master Zhou."
She remained seated on the steps, not bothering to rise, addressing him formally as "Master Zhou." The gesture stung Zhou Fuyang. Even when the seat was brought, he dared not sit. "Xiao Zao, you’ve had a hard time lately," he said softly.
A pang of sorrow struck her, but she held back her tears. "What brings you here today?"Zhou Fuyang spoke in a humble tone, “It’s nothing urgent, just came to see you. Zaor, I know you resent me. Your uncle wronged you in the past, but it’s been so long—won’t you forgive me? They say the bond between aunt and uncle is unbreakable, like bones connected by sinews. Nowadays, family is getting scarcer. With Third Brother just gone, I couldn’t rest easy about you, so I came to check on you today.” He paused briefly, glancing at her indifferent expression, and felt somewhat reassured before continuing, “I came for Third Brother’s funeral and saw how well the Prince treats you. But a lady still needs her natal family, especially since the grand wedding hasn’t happened yet. Where will you depart from when the time comes? Who will arrange your dowry? It’ll take some effort! You see, if relatives don’t stay connected, the ties grow cold. You’re alone now—how can you be left outside? Your uncles aren’t in the capital, so it’s inconvenient for them to look after you. Why not come home with your uncle? Your aunt has prepared a courtyard for you, everything brand new, and even picked a few clever maids to serve you. We were foolish before, but with age, we’ve come to value family more. Your mother and I were full siblings. At your uncle’s place, it’ll be just like returning home…”
While the uncle and niece conversed, Sha Tong stepped outside to wait for someone delivering books. The gatekeeper glanced back and asked, “What kind of ‘immortal’ is this, daring to show his face here?”
Sha Tong snorted with a laugh, “Just here to bask in the rising fortune. In the past, he’d have avoided her by miles—let alone anything else. People, always fawning over the high and trampling the low—that’s just how wretched they are.”
No one knew exactly what was said, but Zhou Fuyang left after staying for two cups of tea. Later, the Princess Consort strolled around the courtyard and instructed at the gate, “Next time he comes, no need to announce him—just bring him in directly.”
The gatekeeper assented, thinking to himself, family is still family. With no one left around her, past grievances are forgotten—like a desperate patient grasping at any remedy.
When the news reached Hongce, he was drafting a memorial in his study. Upon hearing it, he felt a vague melancholy and merely said, “That’s fine. She’s been too lonely. Having her own people around might ease her heart.”
“Will Your Highness not go check on her in the alley? She’s been left alone since yesterday, and now the sun’s about to set.”
His brush hovered, unmoving for a long while. The faint scent of sandalwood filled the study, the clock on the desk ticking away as if time had frozen. After a long silence, he finally said, “Let her calm down for now. If I force myself into her sight and she acts rashly in distress, we’d regret it too late.”
Guan Zhaojing tucked his hands into his sleeves and hung his head. “In this humble servant’s opinion, you should still go. A woman’s heart is narrow, but you’re a man of stature—you must be considerate of her. Think of how she used to be—such a fine girl. Like a tree, stubborn and unyielding, growing straight and tall. Now she’s hit a ditch, her legs too short to cross it—but it’s no great matter. Give her a hand, just a little lift, and she’ll be over it. But if you also act stubborn, that won’t do. You’ll suffer, and she’ll stay tangled up—why torment yourselves?” He chuckled. “Though I’ve never been much of a man, my head’s still a man’s head. Men have thick skin—a few curses or spits, and we’ll still grin. Your Highness is noble, forgive my bluntness, but that’s only in outsiders’ eyes. At home, who are you trying to prove a point to? She’s the one who shares your pillow.”Hongce loosened his grip on Xian'er. Guan Zhaojing was right—no matter how exhausted or aggrieved he felt, it couldn't compare to her suffering. Having just lost her brother, she bore fresh wounds atop old scars. Even if she said something extreme, he could only console her, not take offense.
He set down his brush and stood, stepping outside where the setting sun bathed the courtyard in crimson. Reflecting on how he'd neglected her all day, guilt overwhelmed him. He hastily ordered a horse saddled and galloped toward Wine and Vinegar Bureau Alley.
Yet an ominous premonition churned within him, growing stronger as he approached. Bursting through the gate, he collided with someone exiting—the impact left them both dazed. Regaining his footing, he saw people rushing about in silent panic.
"What happened?" He seized the nearest person by the collar. "What's wrong?"
The eunuch dangled helplessly, gesturing frantically. "Your Highness! I was just coming to report—the Princess Consort complained of stomach pains. When Bao'er helped her to the privy... the chamber pot was full of blood! Even the sandalwood shavings turned red—"
His mind exploded with white noise. Shoving past, he raced down the path to her chamber. She'd been moved to the kang bed, lying on her side with her face hidden.
Sha Tong threw himself at Hongce's feet, slapping his own face repeatedly. "This worthless servant failed you! I neglected the Princess Consort's care, causing her miscarriage. I deserve death!"
Guan Zhaojing kicked the man viciously. "You should die ten times over for this!"
Hongce's legs gave way, forcing him to brace against the crescent-moon table. Struggling to comprehend, he rasped, "Show me."
Servants brought the evidence. One glance made him wave it away weakly.
Amid the chaos, the baffled imperial physician stood dismissed by the wall. Guan Zhaojing barked orders: "Stop gawking! Investigate everything the Princess Consort ate today—who prepared it!"
But Hongce interrupted, "No investigation. Everyone out."
With tremendous effort, he reached her bedside, tucking in the emerald-green silk quilt. "Does it still hurt? Was it because I didn't come today? My absence upset you, causing this... I've wronged you again." His voice broke as he stroked the fabric, patting her back like a child. "Don't blame yourself. We can try again. Let me check your pulse—give me your hand so I can be at ease."
She remained motionless until finally turning. Her swollen eyes met his slowly. "No. Not because you didn't come."
He nodded mechanically. "Then an accident—you stumbled and fell?"
She offered no answer, turning her face away again.
His expression hardened, his voice a blade against her ear. "So you've truly made your decision?"Still receiving no answer from her, he let out a long sigh, finally understanding and seeing through everything. Even the last shred of self-deception was hard to maintain. He turned and walked out, violently lifting the hanging curtain high. Outside, the setting sun truly bled like crimson. Casting a cold glance at Guan Zhaojing, he said sharply, "Bring me my token. I'm going to the palace."
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