"My beloved Fu'er,
In all my past letters, I would begin with the customary 'as if we were face to face,' yet now I pray this letter never reaches your hands. It is not that I do not miss you or long to see you, but rather that if you read these words, it would mean I have failed—failed to keep the promise I made to you, failed to uphold the vows I once swore.
I remember our parting in midsummer, how sorrowful you were. Unable to bear your sadness, I whispered that I would soon bring you home. At the time, I still clung to a sliver of hope, praying fate might be kind. But tonight, autumn has come. Alone in this remote corner of the southwest, in a shabby room with the candle nearly spent, I listen to the night’s endless drips, each one hastening the dawn. I can deceive myself no longer, and so I take up my brush.
Normally, when I write, a thousand words flow effortlessly. Yet tonight, my thoughts are sluggish, the ink thick. Though my heart is full, I do not know how to set these words to paper.
I still remember that night two years ago in Chengjiang Prefecture. Like tonight, I was alone, lodging in a Courier Station, unable to sleep. Rising by lamplight to read, I suddenly heard you call my name—so faint I thought it a dream. But when I opened the door, there you were, disheveled, barefoot, your hair wild, trembling like a startled hare. You threw yourself into my arms and clung to me for a long, long time. Back then, I was utterly bewildered, thinking it strange. But now, looking back, that night was the beginning of my greatest joy. The memory is vivid, your scent still lingers in my mind.
Since childhood, I have studied the classics, steeped in the teachings of the sages—reverence, purity of thought. Yet for all that learning, all that discipline, it was you alone who unraveled me.
During those months in Wuding, under the same roof, your endless mischief often displeased me, and I scolded you harshly. Yet dare I say, even then, was I not secretly delighted without realizing it? And after we wed, behind the embroidered screens, in the warmth of incense, whispering beneath the silken canopy—every moment was perfection.
The Book of Han tells how Liang Hong’s wife would prepare his meals, never daring to raise her eyes in his presence, serving him with the tray held level to her brows—a tale praised through the ages. But I do not envy Liang Hong. I loved your boldness, your playful willfulness. What once annoyed me now seems a treasure I can never reclaim. To think I may never again see your coy glances or hear you call me 'Big Cousin'—this regret cuts deep into my bones.
My father once taught my brothers and me that a gentleman must hold fast to the right path, to duty and righteousness. I once believed this wholeheartedly. But now I understand: the hardest thing in this world is not how to act as a gentleman, but how to choose between you and that very path.
I have broken my word. I did not return south to bring you home as I vowed, leaving you waiting in vain. Tomorrow, I must set out to do what must be done—a deed that may cost me my life. Yet I do not take this risk for empty glory, nor because I love you less than others. It is simply that a man, standing between heaven and earth, must sometimes act.
This is my duty now, one I cannot refuse. But in doing so, I have failed you.
My darling, when you ran to me, it was for my protection. Now, with no way to spare you, I have betrayed you utterly. If one day you hear of my fate, do not grieve, do not waste yourself in futile efforts. My crime, in the eyes of the sovereign, is unforgivable.
In this life, though I have stood high in the halls of power, I am but a tainted man—born of uncertain origins, my mother’s name unspoken, my youth steeped in infamy. An ill-omened soul. That you did not spurn me, that you stayed by my side these two years—for that, the joy is enough to last my remaining days. If death comes, it is only fate. My one regret is that I can no longer shield your happiness. But I have made arrangements. Though I cannot protect you myself, you should still live in peace, free from fear of harm. This is the last thing I can do for you."The attached page is the Divorce Letter. Since I am leaving you today, from now on, you need no longer think of me. You are intelligent and lovely, and should you meet a good man, you may remarry. If I learn of it, I will surely smile with joy and wish you happiness from afar. The ink runs dry here. Take care, my dear.
Written by You’an on the night of the 27th of August, during the fourth watch."
Pei You'an's letter consisted of two parts—one was this content, and the other, the Divorce Letter, had already been torn to pieces and discarded by Jiafu that day.
She no longer needed to read these pages. Every word and sentence had long been etched into her mind.
It was only after receiving this letter that Jiafu realized that on that night, when he left, he had already prepared to bid her farewell. At the time, however, she had been so consumed by sorrow and reluctance at their impending separation, and later so comforted and dazed by his tenderness, that she had completely failed to notice his unusual behavior. Later, when she learned from her brother about the instructions and arrangements he had made before leaving, and then when Yuzhu arrived, all these pieces came together, and she finally sensed an ominous foreboding.
But all her unease and suspicions had remained mere premonitions, allowing her to cling to hope—until she saw the letter.
The moment the letter arrived, the depth of Jiafu's worry and anxiety was matched only by the fury and heartbreak that followed.
She would keep this letter carefully, and when she saw him again, she would slap his own words back in his face and make him swallow every single one of them!
It was with such anxiety, worry, and the anger and sorrow she could not yet vent—nor had anywhere to vent—that Jiafu traveled day and night, braving wind and dust, until she finally arrived in the capital and reached the Pei residence on this day.
The Pei household was still the same Pei household, yet in just over half a year, upon her return, it seemed to have become an entirely different place. The gatehouse and front hall were sparsely staffed, and as she walked further in, servants were either slacking off or idly gossiping. Only when they suddenly noticed Jiafu and her entourage did they hurriedly come forward to greet her, though their expressions carried a faint strangeness, quite unlike before. Jiafu went straight to the courtyard where she had lived, sent someone to inform Madam Xin that she would pay her respects after changing clothes, and then asked Liu Momo to gather news. Moments later, Liu Momo returned, her face pale with alarm, saying that for some reason, after leaving Quanzhou, the eldest young master seemed not to have gone to the southwest. He was rumored to be in the capital, yet had not made an appearance. Then, half a month ago, word spread that he had angered the emperor and been stripped of his position. Some claimed to have seen him escorted out of the city gates at dawn by two old soldiers, exiled to the north.
Jiafu's heart pounded wildly.
Though Pei You'an's letter had not mentioned what the "deed that must be done" was—the one that "might lead to death"—she had a feeling it must be related to Xiao Yu.
Only something involving such matters could be "unforgivable to the sovereign."
Her legs weakened for a moment, but she quickly steadied herself.
Between the lines of his letter, it was clear that Pei You'an had undertaken that deed prepared for the worst. And now, the emperor had not killed him.
Perhaps this was unexpected to him, but Jiafu knew exactly why it had turned out this way.
Losing his official position meant nothing to her. Exile to the north held no fear—she would follow without hesitation. Her only concern was his health.In his previous life, he had gone beyond the Great Wall, where his old illness flared up again, and he was most likely murdered by Xiao Yintang, ultimately dying in Suyeh City. In this lifetime, even if Xiao Yintang could no longer harm him, the harsh conditions beyond the frontier were unbearable. How could she rest easy knowing he was alone out there?
She had finally rushed back, only to find he had already been exiled to the north!
Jiafu suppressed the overwhelming urge to set off after him immediately.
He had been gone for over half a month. The northern lands were vast—where exactly had he been sent? Which route had he taken? What had happened? She knew none of these details.
She wrote a formal visiting card and had it swiftly delivered to Liu Jiushao’s residence, addressed to Madam Liu. Meanwhile, though her heart was heavy, she forced herself to gather her composure, changed into fresh clothes, and instructed the servants to bring the gifts she had brought from Quanzhou before heading to Madam Xin’s quarters.
Zhou Jiao'e had given birth to a daughter the previous month and had just emerged from her postpartum confinement. Madam Xin had grown extremely cold toward her. Pei Xiuzhi, however, had regained his title of Duke thanks to the Iron Certificate and rarely paid her any attention these days.
When Jiafu entered, she happened to see Quan Ge'er standing in the courtyard, hurling a handful of pebbles toward Zhou Jiao'e’s window. The stones clattered like frying beans, a few landing inside, followed by the wails of an infant and Zhou Jiao'e’s shrill curses. A maid poked her head out the window, and Quan Ge'er turned to flee—only to collide headlong with Liu Momo, who had just arrived. Liu Momo let out a cry and nearly toppled backward, saved only by Tanxiang’s quick reflexes. The impact, however, sent the small boy flying, landing hard on his backside. He immediately burst into loud sobs. His nurse and maids rushed out in a panic, startled to see Jiafu. They greeted her with a hurried "Madam has returned!" before scrambling to comfort Quan Ge'er. Hearing the commotion, Madam Xin soon appeared, scolding, "I told you to watch the boy properly! Now he’s crying again!"
The nurse and maids glanced at Jiafu, their mouths opening and closing wordlessly, not daring to respond. Quan Ge'er, however, pointed at Liu Momo and shouted, "It was this stinking old hag! She bumped into me on purpose!"
Madam Xin looked up, saw Jiafu, and paused, her lips curling into a faint, mocking smile.
Suppressing her disgust for the child, Jiafu said, "Mother, I’ve just returned home and came to pay my respects. Liu Momo accompanied me. We had only just entered when we saw Quan Ge'er throwing stones into that window. Afterward, he ran off and crashed into Liu Momo. She’s elderly and frail—she nearly fell but was fortunately steadied in time. I didn’t expect Quan Ge'er to end up falling too. How unfortunate!"
Madam Xin remained silent. Behind her emerged a pretty, unfamiliar girl of seventeen or eighteen, dressed unlike a servant, who stared intently at Jiafu and her companions.
"It was the old hag who bumped into me! She did it on purpose! Grandmother, you must avenge me!" Quan Ge'er rolled on the ground, throwing a tantrum.
"Get up!"
A sharp voice rang out from behind. Jiafu turned to see Pei Xiuzhi striding over. He reached them and glared down at the boy on the ground, reprimanding him harshly. "You were the one who crashed into her first, and now you’re throwing a fit? Get up this instant! Go kneel in the ancestral hall and reflect on your actions!"
Quan Ge'er instantly stopped his wailing and slithered behind Madam Xin like a frightened mouse.Madam Xin frowned and said, "Enough, enough. Let's go inside, and I'll teach him properly." She then instructed someone to take Quan Ge'er back to his room. At that moment, Zhou Jiao'e came running out of the house, holding her crying child, and wailed, "You think my family is gone, and everyone bullies me! Throwing stones into my room! If pushed too far, I can do anything! Oh, my poor, unfortunate daughter..."
"...The mourning period for Old Madam isn't even over yet!" Zhou Jiao'e continued to scream in their direction. "Don’t think I don’t know—you’ve already brought someone into the house!"
Several months earlier, Madam Xin had arranged for Pei Xiuzhi to take a concubine named Yunniang, using the excuse that Zhou Jiao'e was pregnant and couldn’t attend to her husband. Of course, since the one-year mourning period for Old Madam hadn’t yet passed, the concubine hadn’t been formally acknowledged.
Hearing Zhou Jiao'e’s outburst, Madam Xin’s expression darkened, and she snapped sharply, "What are you all standing around for? Escort Second Mistress back to her room at once!"
At her command, the servants rushed over in a flurry, with maids and matrons coaxing, pulling, and pushing Zhou Jiao'e back inside, creating a chaotic scene.
Suppressing her disgust, Jiafu bowed to Madam Xin, instructed her attendants to leave the gifts, and then took her leave. Madam Xin responded coldly with only a nod. As Jiafu stepped out of the courtyard, she faintly heard the murmurs of the matrons behind her: "...A plucked phoenix is worse than a chicken—look at her, still acting like she’s something..."
Liu Momo also heard it and, angered, stopped in her tracks, turning to confront them. Jiafu stopped her and continued walking. As they neared her own courtyard, hurried footsteps approached from behind—Pei Xiuzhi caught up to her: "Sister-in-law, don’t grieve too much about Eldest Brother. From now on, just stay peacefully at home. If you need anything, let me know."
Jiafu smiled faintly. "Thank you for your concern." With that, she turned and entered her courtyard. She sent someone to deliver gifts to the second household but didn’t go herself, waiting instead for Madam Liu’s reply. By evening, Madam Liu arrived in person by carriage. Jiafu welcomed her inside, and after tea and refreshments were served, Jiafu’s eyes brimmed with tears as she said, "I only just returned to the capital today and heard the news—it was like a bolt from the blue. I’m at a complete loss. Since your husband and mine were close, I thought of you, hoping to ask for any information—whether the person sent north is indeed my husband. I never expected you to come yourself despite the risks. Please accept my gratitude."
Madam Liu quickly steadied her. "Why stand on ceremony, sister? If not for Lord Pei, my Liu family wouldn’t be where we are today. I’ll be frank—it is indeed Lord Pei. But as for why he incurred Your Majesty’s wrath, even my husband doesn’t know. Some time ago, he and the Marquis of Anyuan went to see Your Majesty to ask about this, but not only did they get no answers, they were reprimanded instead."
Madam Liu sighed. "My husband truly can’t make sense of it. Later, we heard that Your Majesty specifically decreed no one was to accompany Lord Pei—not even servants—or the punishment would be doubled. Sister, what do you plan to do now?"
Wiping her tears, Jiafu said, "There must be reason in all things. If my husband truly committed a grave crime deserving punishment, it should be made public so people understand. But now, he’s been sent north without explanation—how can I rest? I wish to seek an audience with Your Majesty. Could I trouble your husband to present my plea tomorrow?"Madam Liu readily agreed and comforted Jiafu before leaving in a hurry after sitting for a while longer. Jiafu spent a sleepless night. The next afternoon, Madam Liu visited again, saying Liu Jiushao had already relayed the message, but since the emperor had remained silent at the time, he dared not press further and advised her to wait a little longer.
This wait stretched to seven or eight days with no news. Anxious beyond measure, Jiafu went to seek out Madam Liu again, asking Liu Jiushao to help convey another message to Li Yuangui, hoping to meet him instead. Several more days passed, yet there was still no response.
Just as Jiafu was burning with impatience, Cui Yinshui, who served under Li Yuangui, arrived with a message: "My foster father asked me to tell you, madam, that His Majesty is still furious and it’s not yet the right time for an audience. He urges you to be patient a while longer. Once His Majesty’s anger subsides, my foster father will naturally plead on your behalf."
It was already the end of October. Jiafu had been back in the capital for half a month, and with this delay, Pei You'an could be anywhere by now. The weather here had turned cold, and the north was even harsher—heavy snow in November was common. The thought of him alone, possibly without warm clothing, and usually so careless about his own well-being, made tears well up in her eyes instantly.
Seeing her tears, Cui Yinshui hastily bowed. "Madam, please don’t cry..."
Jiafu turned her face away, silently wiping her tears. Cui Yinshui stared, his heart aching, then gritted his teeth. Glancing around and seeing no one nearby, he leaned in and whispered, "Madam, you needn’t worry too much. My foster father was also concerned that Lord Pei might not endure the northern weather. Without His Majesty’s knowledge, he secretly instructed the old guards to take extra care of him. Truly, Lord Pei angered His Majesty too deeply this time—otherwise, His Majesty wouldn’t have acted so harshly. Please wait a little longer."
This eased Jiafu’s mind slightly. But waiting for the emperor’s anger to fade—who knew how long that would take?
Lost in thought, she suddenly remembered something. She hurriedly stood and asked Cui Yinshui to wait while she fetched the jade pendant Pei You'an had once given her as a betrothal token. Handing it over, she said, "Please convey my gratitude to Eunuch Li, and give this to him. Ask him to pass it on to His Majesty."
Cui Yinshui peeked into the pouch and saw the jade pendant, though he didn’t recognize its significance. He hesitated.
Jiafu reassured him, "Don’t worry, nothing will go wrong. Please help me with this." She bowed to him. Cui Yinshui exclaimed in surprise and dodged aside, accepting the item. "Fine, I’ll pass it to my foster father first. Whether he gives it to His Majesty or not, I can’t say. Wait for news."
Jiafu saw him out and spent another restless night in anxiety. By the following evening, a palace carriage stopped at the Pei residence. Cui Yinshui returned, announcing that the emperor had summoned Jiafu for an audience.
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