The third watch had passed, but the capital had yet to quiet down from the fireworks and firecrackers of the Lantern Festival night. Suddenly, from the northeastern corner of the palace, the tolling of bells rang out—nine solemn strikes. Temples across the city echoed in response, their chimes reverberating through the night sky, lingering endlessly.
The people of the capital were no strangers to such bell tolls.
All four city gates had long been under strict lockdown. Households extinguished their lanterns one after another.
Before dawn, the entire city was draped in mourning white, and the sound of weeping rose from every corner.
Ci'er was also awakened from his sleep by the tolling of the bells.
He sat up, nestling into Jiafu's embrace, rubbing his eyes while still half-asleep, mumbling that it was morning and he wanted to see his grandfather.
Jiafu knew that at this very moment, the court officials had already gathered outside the hall, waiting to receive the Crown Prince's grandson, who would soon ascend the throne as emperor.
Cui Yinshui entered, standing by with hands clasped respectfully.
As the bell tolls faded, the distant cries of palace maids and eunuchs drifted in with the wind. Though faint and intermittent, the silence of the night carried their sorrow into the room.
Ci'er heard them too, and as if understanding what had happened, he suddenly became fully awake, his eyes wide as he stared blankly at Jiafu.
His grandfather had been ill for a long time, and one day, he would leave him. When that time came, his grandfather didn’t want him to grieve—he wanted him to be a good emperor for Great Wei. His grandfather had told him this more than once before.
Slowly, tears welled up in Ci'er's eyes.
Overwhelmed with emotion, Jiafu hugged her young son tightly, wiping away his tears. She dressed him piece by piece, lifted him from the bed, and embraced him one last time before finally letting go and handing him over to Cui Yinshui, who stood waiting nearby.
Cui Yinshui approached, knelt before Jiafu, and kowtowed once before rising. He then led Ci'er out, following closely behind him.
Jiafu stood there, watching as Ci'er turned back to look at her every few steps. She met his gaze and nodded slightly.
Seven years had passed since she and Pei You'an had welcomed Ci'er into the world, and they had not had another child since.
In the early years, Pei You'an had been haunted by the memory of her difficult childbirth and refused to let her risk it again. Well-versed in medicine, he had somehow learned from a court physician which days of the month were more or less likely for conception. Over time, Jiafu had also picked up on this pattern. But no matter how much she longed for another child—whether she coaxed, tempted, threatened, forced, or pretended to be angry with him on the days he avoided intimacy—Pei You'an either remained unmoved or ensured she never succeeded. Thus, her wish for another child remained unfulfilled.
In recent years, neither Pei You'an nor Jiafu had even entertained the thought of having another child.
Though the couple had never spoken of it openly, from the day Ci'er was named Crown Prince's grandson, both had silently understood.
Until Ci'er grew up, they would not have a second child.
They did not want Ci'er to feel the loneliness of abandonment, nor did they have any love left to spare for another child besides him.
After tonight, her son would become the new emperor of Great Wei.When Ci'er first came into this world, she had never imagined that the heavens would chart such a path for her child.
Tonight, from the moment he stepped out of the palace doors, Jiafu knew that his journey ahead would be fraught with hardships, trials, and crises she could not yet foresee.
But Jiafu believed that one day, her son would walk steadfastly forward and become the wise ruler the late emperor had envisioned.
She gazed ahead until that small figure disappeared completely beyond the palace gates.
...
In accordance with the late emperor's edict, the seven-year-old crown prince ascended the throne, and from the following year, the era name would be changed to Yongyi. Until the young emperor came of age, Pei You'an was appointed as regent, serving before the throne with the privilege of exemption from kneeling.
Sharing this honor were Zhang Shiyong and Liu Jiushao, who had also been summoned by the late emperor on his deathbed—one a scholar, the other a warrior—to assist Pei You'an in guiding the young ruler.
Three days after the emperor's passing, news of another death arrived from the northern gardens: the long-imprisoned deposed Empress Zhou had died. Following the late emperor's final decree, Zhou Shi was buried with the rites befitting an empress in the imperial mausoleum, where she would later be joined by deceased imperial concubines. However, the emperor himself did not share their resting place; he lay alone in the eastern part of the tomb. The hill erected above, seen from afar on rainy days, stood between heaven and earth like a silent sentinel, its gaze fixed toward the direction of the Royal Ci'en Temple, shrouded in mist and rain.
Though the late emperor had left instructions for a modest funeral, as a sovereign, the rites still lasted over half a month. By the time the mourning period ended, the twenty-seven days of strict mourning prescribed in the edict had passed, and the nation shed its mourning attire. The common people were largely unaffected by the emperor's death, continuing with weddings and festivities as usual. As for the court, the late emperor had already delegated most state affairs in the preceding two years. Now, with Pei You'an leading the cabinet, the transition was smooth, and governance resumed its usual flow after a brief pause during the mourning period.
What was past should remain past. In life, one must always look forward.
Jiafu understood this well. She knew Pei You'an understood it even better.
Before the emperor's final moments, Pei You'an had returned to his side and performed a deep bow of respect.
To the observing ministers, this gesture might have seemed merely an expression of gratitude for imperial favor.
But Jiafu knew that for Pei You'an, it marked the moment he truly let go.
She had not been present then, nor had Pei You'an described the scene in detail, yet Jiafu believed the emperor must have understood as well.
He would have grasped the meaning behind Pei You'an's bow—a silent understanding shared only between ruler and subject, father and son.
Sometimes, the greatest sound is silence, and the unspoken speaks loudest.
In his final moments, the emperor must have found a long-sought solace, departing this world in peace.
...
After the national mourning, the young emperor ascended the throne, and Pei You'an became immersed in ceaseless work, leaving early and returning late. Sometimes, even in the dead of night, urgent reports from the provinces would summon him back to the palace.During this time, Jiafu had not been idle either. With Tanxiang's assistance, she busied herself with packing and shuttling between Duke Wei's Mansion and a residence near the southeastern gate of the imperial city in Nanxun Lane, preparing to move on an auspicious day. This relocation would make it more convenient for Pei You'an to enter and exit the palace and spare him the hardships of winter travel.
Tanxiang had married Yang Yun several years earlier and had a son. Over the years, the couple had loyally served Pei You'an and Jiafu in their respective capacities.
As for the first and second branches of Duke Wei's Mansion, the past few years had painted very different pictures for each.
Three years ago, Pei Xiuzhi had mysteriously disappeared for a period. It wasn't until half a year later that Pei You'an personally and secretly brought him back. Madam Xin later learned that her son had been involved with the faction of the deposed Crown Prince, who had plotted rebellion. Though he vehemently protested that he had been coerced, it was only out of respect for her husband, the Duke of Wei, and Pei You'an that the Emperor had spared him from being charged with treason. Terrified by the ordeal, Madam Xin watched as her son never regained his former self, sinking into despair and drowning himself in drink. Though he still held the title of Duke, there was no sign of a promising future. His household was in constant turmoil with quarrels between his wives and concubines, leaving Madam Xin with no peace of mind.
In contrast, the second branch had flourished over the years. While Pei Quan himself had no remarkable career prospects, Pei Xiuluo had passed the imperial examinations two years prior and earned the title of Jinshi. Moreover, the father of the Cao family, with whom they had previously formed a marriage alliance, had risen to the position of Vice Minister of Personnel. What gnawed at Madam Xin most bitterly was Pei You'an's current status as a regent minister assisting the young Emperor, his influence towering like the midday sun. Behind his back, people referred to him as "Chancellor Pei," a man whose power eclipsed all others at court. Though she was nominally his "birth mother," her relationship with him and his wife remained awkward and distant. Meanwhile, the second branch had been fawning over them—Pei Xiuluo treated the couple with utmost respect and proudly introduced himself as "Chancellor Pei's younger brother" in social circles, skillfully networking and earning widespread goodwill. To make matters worse, it seemed as though all the noblewomen in their social circle had gradually become aware that she, the "birth mother," was estranged from her eldest son and his wife, while Second Madam Meng—Jiafu's aunt by marriage—enjoyed a close relationship with them. Those seeking favors now flocked to Second Madam Meng, who basked in the attention, her face perpetually wreathed in smiles. Madam Xin seethed with resentment and envy, her days consumed by anxiety and her nights sleepless. Her temper grew increasingly erratic, her health deteriorated, and she often flew into fits of rage.
Since the title of Duke had long been transferred from Pei You'an to Pei Xiuzhi, and with Pei Xiuzhi now the nominal head of the household, Pei You'an's decision to move out of Duke Wei's Mansion for the sake of his duties as regent was entirely justified.
On the chosen day, Jiafu finalized the arrangements and moved from Duke Wei's Mansion, where she had lived for many years, to the new residence.
She had kept the relocation low-key, not wishing to draw attention. However, given her husband's current status, her every move had become the focus of many noblewomen in the capital. No sooner had she settled in than a steady stream of visiting cards and guests arrived, with many sending lavish gifts under the pretext of congratulating her on the move. Jiafu firmly declined them all, accepting nothing. For over half a month, she was caught in a whirlwind of social engagements before things finally began to quiet down.In the blink of an eye, it was already mid-April. On the day marking the three-month anniversary of the late emperor's passing, Pei You'an led a group of officials to the imperial mausoleum located hundreds of miles outside the capital to perform the grand memorial rites on behalf of the young emperor. This journey would take three to four days before he could return.
Jiafu was left alone at home. By evening, Second Madam Meng arrived uninvited, bringing some local products like dried bamboo shoots, saying they were gifts from relatives who had traveled a long way from their hometown. She thought of Jiafu and brought some over, saying, "Auntie knows you never accept extravagant gifts, but these are just simple things—nothing valuable, just a token of goodwill. After feasting on delicacies like dragon liver and phoenix marrow, you and You'an might enjoy something fresh. If you like them, I have more and can bring you more next time."
Jiafu thanked her and accepted the gifts. Since it was dinnertime, she invited Second Madam to stay for supper. After the meal, though it was already dark, Second Madam remained in high spirits, chatting about this and that. Eventually, the conversation turned to Pei You'an's absence these past few days. She sighed and said, "You'an now holds a high position with great responsibilities—it’s only natural he’s busy. But seeing you left alone like this, even as your aunt, my heart aches for you..."
She took Jiafu’s hand and lowered her voice. "A'fu, I’m both your aunt and your mother’s sister—I see you as my own daughter, which is why I’m telling you this. You and You'an have been married for years. The child you had early on in the frontier was tragically lost, and so much time has passed since then—why hasn’t there been any news of another? I’ve been terribly worried for you and have been keeping an ear out. Recently, I heard of a temple with miraculous powers—any woman who goes there and prays sincerely returns to bear a son within a year or so. Why don’t I take you there? If it works, wouldn’t that be wonderful?"
Jiafu smiled faintly. "Thank you, Auntie. If I find the time later, I’ll trouble you then."
Second Madam was determined to secure another opportunity for her son through Pei You'an. Seeing that the couple had remained childless for so many years, she assumed they were struggling to conceive and had been searching everywhere for solutions. Upon hearing of this temple, she had hoped to win Jiafu’s favor. But seeing Jiafu’s indifferent response, she felt somewhat dissatisfied and was about to press further when one of her own servants suddenly rushed in, looking frantic.
Furious at the lack of decorum, she was about to scold the servant when the man dropped to his knees and kowtowed, crying, "Madam, disaster has struck! There’s a fire at home, Third Master is missing, Second Master is away, and Third Madam sent me to fetch you back at once!"
Pei Quan was also among those attending the memorial rites and had been absent these past few days.
Second Madam jolted to her feet in shock.
Though Jiafu had little fondness for the current members of the Pei family, the kindness the late Madam Pei and the Duke had shown Pei You'an outweighed any grievances. Hearing of trouble at the Pei residence, how could she stand idly by? She quickly gathered a few servants and accompanied Second Madam in a carriage, rushing to the Duke’s estate. Several streets away, they could already see flames rising from the direction of the Pei residence. The intersection was clogged with onlookers, making it impossible for the carriage to pass. Officers from the Five Armies Headquarters, aware of the fire at the Pei household, had arrived promptly, using water pumps to fight the blaze and dispersing the crowd to clear the way.
By the time Jiafu arrived at the Pei estate, the fire had been contained. The connected buildings where the fire had started had burned out, and the flames gradually died down. But what she saw next left her utterly stunned.The fire started in a rear storage room usually used to keep fine silks and valuables. The third son, Pei Xiuluo, was reportedly locked inside. By the time servants heard his cries for help and managed to rescue him, his face had been badly burned, and he had inhaled smoke, falling unconscious. Third Madam lay weeping bitterly by his side, while Second Madam Meng, upon seeing her son in such a state, fainted and collapsed to the ground.
Jiafu quickly sent someone in her name to urgently summon a physician skilled in treating burns. When the physician arrived and treated Pei Xiuluo, applying ointment to his burns, he finally regained consciousness, lying there weakly, barely alive.
Second Madam, gnashing her teeth, demanded to know who had locked him in the storeroom. Pei Xiuluo’s eyes were vacant, his throat scorched by smoke and flames. His lips moved, but no words came out.
Third Madam sobbed, “The servants said they saw a maid from Second Sister-in-law’s side looking for the Third Master this evening—it must be connected to them! Eldest Sister-in-law, I beg you, please seek justice for my husband!”
She wept pitifully before Jiafu, pleading incessantly.
Second Madam, seeing her once handsome son now disfigured—even if he survived, he would be crippled, never able to serve as an official again—felt as though her heart had been torn out. Tears streamed down her face as she ground her teeth. “Fine! Those black-hearted wretches! Their own son is a useless fool, squandering the family’s inherited titles, and now they can’t stand to see my son prosper. A’fu, bear witness for your aunt—even if it costs me my life, I will demand justice for my son!”
Wiping away her tears, she ordered her daughter-in-law to care for her son and stormed off with a crowd of maids and servants toward the main household’s quarters. On the way, she encountered Pei Xiuzhi, his face flushed, staggering drunkenly, reeking of alcohol. He slurred, “Second Aunt… how is Third Brother…?” Before he could finish, Second Madam Meng spat directly in his face and shoved him aside.
Pei Xiuzhi stumbled back several steps before crashing to the ground, dead drunk and motionless.
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