Youthful Glory

It was unclear what kind of wine Yun Yi had prepared, but Ming Tan felt slightly drunk after just one sip. By the time the fireworks ended, her head was spinning, and the words she had wanted to say to Jiang Xu earlier slipped her mind completely.

She cupped her face in her hands, gazing at the clear, starry sky above and the pristine lake below. The occasional night breeze rippled the water, scattering the reflections of stars like shattered crystals. When a wave of dizziness hit her, the scene before her twisted and swirled, pulling her into a tranquil, dreamlike haze.

In her dream, there was an endless expanse of stars, a mirror-like lake dotted with shimmering lights, and silent trees standing tall. She found herself draped over her husband’s broad shoulders as he carried her step by step.

The sensation of his sturdy frame felt so real that she couldn’t tell whether it was a dream or not. Letting out a tipsy hiccup, she mumbled a line of poetry: "Drunk, I know not the sky mirrors the water—a boatful of clear dreams presses down the Milky Way. Mmm… but I’m not… not drunk!"

Jiang Xu glanced back briefly, adjusting her gently on his back.

The moment was peaceful—until Yun Yi spotted them from a distance and, without hesitation, stepped forward to offer to share the burden. After all, carrying someone seemed like a task unfit for the Master himself.

"..."

"Unnecessary. Mind your own affairs."

After a brief overnight stay in Lixian, Jiang Xu and Ming Tan parted ways with Shu Jingran the next day, heading for Tonggang in Quanzhou. The accompanying shadow guards also split up, with most being assigned by Jiang Xu to protect Shu Jingran—including Yun Yi, whom Shu Jingran specifically requested.

Truthfully, Jiang Xu had been reluctant to let her go, but he ultimately relented. Ming Tan was puzzled by this arrangement and asked him once they were on the road, "Husband, why did you let Yun Yi go with Second Young Master Shu?"

"What do you think?"

Ming Tan pondered for a moment before tentatively suggesting, "Could it be… because Second Young Master Shu has feelings for Yun Yi, and you wanted to help them?"

Jiang Xu didn’t answer. Ming Tan pressed on, "Madam Right Prime Minister is famously strict about propriety in the capital. How could she ever allow Second Young Master Shu to be with Yun Yi? Are you sure this… won’t cause trouble?"

Throughout their journey, it had been impossible not to notice Shu Jingran’s special regard for Yun Yi. At first, Yun Yi had been indifferent, but in recent days since leaving Quancheng, she had clearly warmed up to him.

Ming Tan had noticed but pretended otherwise, never attempting to play matchmaker. In her eyes, the two had no chance whatsoever.

Between the son of the Right Prime Minister and a shadow guard of the Jin Yunwei lay a gap wider than a thousand noble heirs and a lowly constable. Even marriage with an ordinary family would be impossible—let alone with Yun Yi. Unless… she were to become his concubine?

Given Madam Right Prime Minister’s notorious adherence to propriety, even taking Yun Yi as a concubine would likely be out of the question. And why should a free-spirited girl like Yun Yi ever submit to being a concubine in the Shu household? Rather than face insurmountable obstacles later, it was better not to let things develop too far in the first place.

"Shu Jingran will handle his own affairs. He is a man of strong convictions—there’s no need for you to worry," Jiang Xu explained, though his real reason was simply that Yun Yi had been getting in the way. He had no intention of playing matchmaker.

Ming Tan nodded, though she couldn’t help feeling a little melancholy. She had a tendency to fret over others, yet in the end, it seemed she had no control over anyone but herself. Over a month had passed since leaving the capital, and she still had no news of how Bai Minmin and Jing Wan’s marriage affairs were progressing.In just three days, the carriage and horses had already traveled through Quanzhou. However, the road to Tonggang was rough—the first half of the official path was narrow and potholed, seemingly untouched by repairs for years, while the latter half was even worse. Even seated in the comfortable carriage, Ming Tan was jostled to the point of dizziness and nausea. To make matters worse, as they neared the town closest to Tonggang, Jiang Xu announced that they could no longer proceed by carriage.

Ming Tan couldn’t help but ask, “Why?”

“The paths ahead are too narrow for carriages, and in such remote, impoverished areas, it’s unwise to draw attention.”

Since her husband had put it that way, Ming Tan didn’t want to trouble him further. She even took the initiative to glance down at her own attire—though she had tried her best to dress modestly, the gown still stood out conspicuously in a crowd. “Should I change my clothes too?” she asked.

“It would be best. Simpler attire is preferable.”

Ming Tan nodded obediently and retrieved a small bronze mirror from the cabinet, studying her reflection. After a moment, she sighed fretfully, “But even with a veil, my features are too striking. Would I have to wear a curtained hat the entire journey?”

Jiang Xu: “…”

Though Jiang Xu had repeatedly emphasized that Tonggang was a remote and impoverished place, Ming Tan couldn’t quite picture just how destitute it might be. By her standards, even Wang County’s Pang Mountain, where Ming Heng resided, was already a remote backwater far from the capital.

Along the way, there were no inns—only a crude roadside shack at the foot of the mountain. The structure looked so dilapidated, its roof seemingly on the verge of collapse, that Ming Tan couldn’t bring herself to sit down for even a cup of tea.

She changed into a plain cotton dress, abandoned the carriage, and rode on horseback with Jiang Xu.

Perhaps to accommodate her, Jiang Xu slowed the horse’s pace considerably. On particularly rough stretches, he even dismounted and led the horse on foot.

As dusk fell, Ming Tan glanced around at the desolate surroundings and couldn’t help but ask, “Husband, where will we stay tonight?” Surely they wouldn’t have to camp in the woods.

As if her fears had summoned it, Jiang Xu replied, “When I led troops in battle, I often camped in the wilderness.”

With one hand behind his back and the other leading the horse, he didn’t even turn to look at Ming Tan seated atop the steed.

Just as Ming Tan resigned herself to the prospect of a night under the stars, he suddenly added, “But there should be a household ahead. We’ll ask to stay the night there.”

Ming Tang exhaled in relief. Though she hadn’t brought her own bedding and doubted she’d sleep well as a guest, it was still far preferable to camping in the open—at least she wouldn’t have to worry about being drenched by rain in the middle of the night.

However, after settling into their borrowed lodging, she realized this worry might not be entirely unfounded.

They were staying with a hunter’s family at the foot of the mountain. Among the five or six households scattered there, theirs was the largest and most well-kept, with strings of dried corn and cured game hanging outside—signs of relative prosperity compared to the others. Yet the interior was still exceedingly crude, with finger-width gaps in the roof. If it rained, there’d be no escaping it.

“My husband’s been hunting in the mountains these past few days and hasn’t had time to patch the roof. It might rain tonight—here, use this to catch the drips. Apologies for the inconvenience,” said the woman of the house, soothing her infant while kindly offering them a small wooden basin.

“Thank you, Sister Liu,” Ming Tan replied with a polite smile.“We don’t stand on ceremony here,” the woman called Sister Liu waved her hand dismissively. “You two can stay the night. There’s not much to eat tonight—just steamed buns and pickles—but make do for now. Tomorrow morning, I’ll make you some meat porridge.”

“No need, Sister Liu,” Ming Tan quickly declined. The place was so poor that meat couldn’t possibly be a common food. She couldn’t bear to impose on their hospitality.

“It’s no trouble. We may not be rich, but we can afford meat. My man’s a skilled hunter—the best in these parts.” Sister Liu raised a thumb, her face brimming with pride and contentment. “He treats me and the little ones well. Every time he goes to town to sell his game, he brings back a couple of pounds of meat. Even if you don’t eat it, my little one will.”

Just as she mentioned the child, the baby in her arms began to wail. She soothed it expertly before looking up again. “You two rest now. I’ll go feed the baby.”

Ming Tan nodded quickly.

After Sister Liu left, Ming Tan stared at the wooden basin she had brought, speechless for a long moment.

Back in the mansion, she had seen servants use wooden basins to collect rainwater, but those were always lined up under the eaves outside, replaced once full to prevent clogged drains during heavy rain. It had never occurred to her that people might need basins indoors to catch leaks.

Nor had she ever imagined that a dwelling could be this crude—and that this was considered a well-off household in these parts.

According to Sister Liu, the room they were staying in had belonged to her eldest daughter before she married. Against the wall stood a simple wooden bed, and what might charitably be called a dressing table—though it was cluttered with odds and ends, its uneven legs wobbling precariously. A worn-out small round table held a set of half-chipped earthenware teacups, their rims cracked. There was nothing else.

When Ming Tan first entered, she had felt there was hardly space to stand, let alone sit. She couldn’t fathom how a young woman could have lived in such a room for over a decade.

Yet Sister Liu spoke with evident pride—she and her husband had clearly cherished their daughter. Most families wouldn’t even spare a separate room for a girl, and the fact that they’d waited until their daughter married before having a son was unheard-of in the surrounding villages.

Ming Tan didn’t know what to say. She whispered her astonishment to Jiang Xu, who replied, “Actually, over seventy percent of the people in Great Xian live worse than this. A roof overhead and food to fill their bellies—that’s all many spend their lives striving for.”

Ming Tan was stunned, struggling to grasp just how many people that percentage represented.

The sky had been ominous all day, hinting at rain. Sure enough, shortly after they spoke, the downpour began—first a drizzle, then heavier and heavier, until fat raindrops punched through the roof’s gaps, splashing violently onto the floor.

The cracks in the roof were more than a finger’s width wide, and one basin couldn’t possibly catch all the leaks. Jiang Xu placed it over the bed, the most critical spot, then lifted the flustered Ming Tan to the dry corner. “Sleep here. You won’t get wet.”

“What about you, Husband?”

There clearly wasn’t enough dry space for two.

“I… I’ll just sit.”

No sooner had he spoken than the dim oil lamp guttered out in the wind.Ming Tan huddled in the corner of the bed as raindrops pattered incessantly into the wooden basin placed on the bedframe. Soon, splashes bloomed, dampening her sleeves with an icy chill.

Outside, the rain grew heavier, occasionally split by flashes of lightning. The flimsy window was suddenly blown open, allowing wind and rain to sweep in unchecked.

Jiang Xu rose to shut the window firmly again, then approached the bedside. "Can't sleep?" he asked.

...Who could possibly sleep in this?

Ming Tan had originally resolved not to cause him any trouble during their trip to Tonggang, no matter how unbearable things got—she wouldn't complain. Yet she'd never experienced such dire circumstances before. Frozen in her corner, she barely dared move as rainwater from the basin splashed onto her sleeves. With each thunderclap, she flinched anew.

After holding out for what felt like ages, she finally inched toward the edge of the bed in the darkness. Wrapping her arms around Jiang Xu's waist, she whispered in a small, plaintive voice, "Husband, hold me please... I'm scared."

After a pause, Jiang Xu embraced her, gently stroking her slender shoulders. "Don't be afraid. I'm here."