Chapter 5

Matters of the bedchamber were not something Pei Yun wished to share with others; only she herself truly knew. She dreaded those moments intensely. While other wives longed for their husbands to stay with them night after night, she wished the opposite. Whenever the night came for her to share a room with Li Changye, she secretly hoped his official duties would be so pressing that he would send Chang Lu with a message, allowing her to retire early.

To Pei Yun, the act of marital intimacy with that man was nothing short of torture—long and agonizing. Thus, when she saw Chang Lu, instead of feeling disappointed, she felt a quiet relief, as if she had narrowly escaped a calamity.

The lively chatter around her had never concerned Pei Yun. At first, she couldn’t join the conversations and feared saying the wrong thing; later, she simply stopped speaking altogether.

After sitting for nearly half an hour, everyone began to take their leave, but Pei Yun remained until the very end.

The Noble Consort, sensing that Pei Yun had something to say, kindly asked, “Princess, what brings you to Yong’an Palace today? Is there an important matter?”

Pei Yun first expressed her gratitude for the full-month gift the Noble Consort had sent, then revealed the true purpose of her visit—she wished to return to the Pei family home tomorrow.

It was not a great matter, and the Noble Consort understood her yearning for home, immediately granting permission.

Pei Yun bowed deeply in thanks. Upon leaving Yong’an Palace and heading back to the Eastern Palace, her steps quickened with anticipation.

Book Yan and Shu Mo, upon hearing the news, were equally thrilled. Their lady was finally putting aside her inner grievances and was willing to return home.

Back at Linlang Hall, Pei Yun set about making arrangements. Since it was a homecoming visit, gifts were necessary. She handed Shu Mo a list of medicinal herbs from her private treasury and glanced it over. Her brows furrowed slightly as she murmured, “I recall there was a century-old ginseng root in the storage. Where has it gone?”

Surprised, Shu Mo reminded her, “Your Ladyship may have forgotten, but the late Dowager Lady was unwell recently and sent someone to request that century-old ginseng, saying it was for replenishing her qi and blood...”

Pei Yun’s fingers hesitated on the list, her lips pressing into a thin line.

She remembered now. Indeed, her grandmother had no serious illness; she had merely heard that consuming such fine ginseng could prolong life and, without hesitation, had sent someone to the Eastern Palace to request it from her.

Since her grandmother dared to shamelessly ask for it, Pei Yun felt she must grant the request, if only to maintain the appearance of filial piety.

Shu Mo seemed to sense Pei Yun’s thoughts and lowered her gaze in contemplation before saying, “If Your Ladyship still desires the century-old ginseng, I believe the Crown Prince’s storage still has one. It was a gift from the Empress Dowager.”

The Crown Prince’s storage was, in fact, the Eastern Palace’s treasury. Li Changye had no private stash; as the master of the Eastern Palace, its storehouse was his, housing all the jade, treasures, and famous calligraphic works.

Pei Yun always distinguished clearly between the Eastern Palace treasury and her private treasury. Though she held the keys and often checked the inventory for discrepancies, she never personally used any of its contents beyond what was necessary for daily social exchanges.

She neither dared nor wished to touch it.

Yet, the ginseng outside could be procured, but its medicinal quality and appearance could never compare to that kept within the palace.

Seeing Pei Yun hesitate, Shu Mo added, “Before the Crown Prince left, he instructed me that if you needed anything, you should ask for Shengxi Gonggong (Eunuch Shengxi), and he would find a way to help. Since the Prince said so, taking one piece of century-old ginseng should be no trouble, and he surely wouldn’t mind.”

Shengxi was the senior eunuch’s apprentice, having served the Crown Prince for over a decade and known for his astuteness.

Before Pei Yun entered the Eastern Palace, Shengxi managed the treasury. Later, when the Crown Prince entrusted the treasury to Pei Yun, she did not fully assume all duties; though nominally in charge, the daily affairs remained Shengxi’s responsibility.

Since the Crown Prince was willing to let her use his trusted aide, he certainly wouldn’t object to a small matter like a piece of ginseng.

This was all Shu Mo wished to convey.

After a moment’s thought, Pei Yun lowered her eyes and pointed on the list, giving a few instructions. Shu Mo was momentarily surprised but then nodded and withdrew.

Half an hour later, Shu Mo returned, carrying two sandalwood boxes.

Pei Yun sat on the small window-side couch, sewing a sachet, and looked up with a puzzled frown. Shu Mo reported, “Your Ladyship, the ginseng has been retrieved. Shengxi Gonggong was initially reluctant to accept the lingzhi mushroom you sent, but after my repeated persuasion, he accepted it. However, he took something from the treasury as well, saying since it was a trade, the lingzhi’s value far exceeded that of the ginseng, so this item had to be added. Shengxi Gonggong also said this would be perfect for Third Miss to wear.”

Upon hearing this, Pei Yun set aside her needle and lifted the lid of the carved wooden box. Inside lay a pair of gold filigree earrings adorned with red rubies.

The lingzhi mushroom was sent by her elder brother, Pei Xuan, who, upon learning of her pregnancy, specially had someone bring it from Wunan to nourish and stabilize her. She had never cared much for such things and had not used it. Its value was roughly equal to the century-old ginseng, yet Shengxi had deliberately added the earrings, handling the matter with finesse.

She did not refuse, so as not to embarrass Shengxi or make it difficult for him to report back. She closed the box and said lightly, “Since he has said so, let’s take them both back tomorrow.”

In future, if anything went into the public treasury, she would quietly replenish from elsewhere.

Meanwhile, Book Yan worked swiftly. In less than an hour, he had prepared everything Pei Yun would need for her homecoming. There was not much, as she would not stay overnight and planned to return later that evening.

***

That night, whether due to excitement or the frequent awakenings of her infant Jin’er, Pei Yun hardly slept, totaling barely two hours of rest.

Even so, she remained spirited. At the dawn hour, she rose, holding Jin’er, who had just finished nursing from his wet nurse and burped. She paced back and forth until he fell asleep again, then handed him back to the wet nurse before dressing and grooming herself.

By mid-afternoon, she boarded a small sedan chair and headed toward the palace gates.

The sky had been overcast for days, but today was a rare clear day. As her sedan passed through the long, arched gate, a ray of light broke through the gray clouds, streaming through the window onto her hand and half of her face.

She squinted, momentarily lost in thought.

In her previous life, Pei Yun had left the palace several times a year for various reasons, so she was not overly joyous at leaving this vast cage, knowing it was but a temporary departure, not liberation.

But this time was different.

The sedan chair stopped outside the palace gate. Book Yan and Shu Mo helped Pei Yun down and settled her into the carriage heading back to the Pei residence.

Inside the carriage, the sound of wheels turning echoed. Her heart pounded as if trying to leap out, and she clenched the hand warmer on her lap tightly.

She silently wished for time to pass swiftly.

After some time, the carriage slowed with a sigh from outside, and Pei Yun’s heart skipped a beat.

“Your Ladyship, we have arrived.”

Only after a while did Shu Mo’s voice drift in, awakening her. The curtain was lifted. Pei Yun bit her lip, then dared to peek outside.

The sight before her blurred instantly.

Above the grand vermilion gate of the Pei mansion hung a black-and-gold plaque inscribed with the words “Duke of the Nation Residence.” On either side stood solemn, majestic stone lions. Outside the wide-open gate stood a large assembly of servants. At the forefront was a middle-aged woman who immediately bowed respectfully as the curtain fluttered.

“Your Highness, the Crown Princess, I pay respects.”

Before the woman could finish kneeling, she was suddenly lifted by eager hands, and a trembling voice whispered, “Mother.”

The woman stiffened slightly, looking up in surprise.

Pei Yun’s eyes were red-rimmed as she carefully examined the woman before her—around forty years old, with gentle features. Though signs of aging were evident, the grace and beauty of youth still lingered.

Seeing her mother again—the one she had yearned for in dreams, the one she whispered to in moments of vulnerability—Pei Yun fought back tears and grasped her mother’s cold hand. “The weather is so cold. Didn’t I tell them to wait inside? Why did you come out to greet me?”

Hearing the gentle reproach laced with deep concern, Mrs. Zhou was momentarily stunned. She stared for some time, acknowledging that this was indeed her eldest daughter.

But in her memory, since the day Pei Yun entered the Eastern Palace seven years ago, her demeanor had grown increasingly cold and indifferent. Even speaking to her mother was no longer as intimate; she rarely smiled, and the aura of a Crown Princess made her feel a stranger at times, no longer able to confide in her as before.

Seeing her now like this, Mrs. Zhou felt unexpectedly touched. The last time Pei Yun had come home, their relationship had been strained. She had thought this return would be no happier.

Suppressing the choking emotions in her throat, Mrs. Zhou clasped her daughter’s hand firmly. “It’s all right. Besides, it’s been so long since I last saw you—I could hardly stay still.”

She looked her daughter over with care and asked, “Are you feeling better?”

Mrs. Zhou naturally knew of Pei Yun’s difficult labor and postpartum hemorrhage and had been anxious. She had wanted to visit the palace but was stopped at the gates because Pei Yun, upset with her, had instructed not to see her. Helpless, she could only kneel in the cold family temple all night, chanting sutras and praying for her daughter’s health.

“Mother, don’t worry. I’m much better.” Pei Yun nodded sincerely, looking closely at her mother’s worried face. She grew ever more aware of her own past foolishness—how could a mother so good be unloved as she once thought?

In her previous life, she had been blinded by external things, stubbornly clinging to what should not have been, leading to estrangement from her family and never seeing her mother’s final moments. Only after her mother’s passing did she learn some truths from her sister.

But by then, it was far too late for regrets.

“Mother, let’s go inside.”

She linked arms with Mrs. Zhou and slowly entered the mansion.

Mrs. Zhou was startled by her daughter’s sudden gesture but soon smiled, unable to hide her joy.

***

“Where is Yan Yan?” Pei Yun asked casually on the way to the flower hall.

Yan Yan was the childhood name of her younger sister, Pei Wei, the third Miss of the Pei family.

Mrs. Zhou’s eyes flickered briefly. “Oh, she said she was bored at the residence and has been staying at the suburban villa. You came back so suddenly, and you’ll be returning to the palace soon, so I didn’t tell her to come home.”

Pei Yun noticed her mother’s nervousness but did not expose it. If given another chance, she knew the truth was otherwise but still smiled and replied softly, “Mm.”

They took seats in the flower hall. Pei Yun sipped her tea, then suddenly turned to look at Mrs. Zhou, frowning. “Mother, you seem pale. Are you feeling unwell?”

Mrs. Zhou’s smile faded slightly, but she feigned ease. “Ah, you noticed. It’s nothing serious—just caught a cold a few days ago. I’m almost recovered.”

Pei Yun pressed her thin lips together, fully aware but pretending ignorance. She glanced at Shu Mo, who understood and respectfully presented a wooden box.

Pei Yun placed the box before Mrs. Zhou and said slowly, “This is ginseng I brought from the palace. It’s good for your health. I’ll have the servants prepare it for you to take these days. It should help you recover faster.”

Though Mrs. Zhou’s family was but a small household from Wunan and not highly refined, she had lived in the capital for many years and had some discernment. She recognized the ginseng’s considerable value and hurriedly declined, “Such a precious gift for me would be a waste. It’s better to send it to your grandmother to help her recuperate.”

Mention of the Dowager Lady caused the smile on Pei Yun’s lips to fade.

At that moment, urgent footsteps approached.

Soon, Shu Mo’s voice came from outside, “Your Ladyship, Nurse Li from the Dowager Lady’s side has arrived.”

Pei Yun’s gaze darkened, but she did not summon the woman inside. Instead, her voice, cold and distant, floated out, “What is it?”

Through the felt curtain, the old nurse replied, “The Dowager Lady heard the Crown Princess has returned and sent me to remind you not to forget to pay respects to her at the Chengzhong Hall.”

The nurse’s tone was somewhat arrogant, showing no deference to Pei Yun’s status and carrying an unmistakable displeasure that Pei Yun had not come to pay her respects sooner.

Pei Yun understood—the real grievance came from her grandmother, who ruled the household with absolute authority.

Hearing this, Mrs. Zhou showed signs of panic. “See, I was so happy I forgot. Let’s go to Chengzhong Hall to pay respects to your grandmother.”

“No rush.” Pei Yun’s voice was calm as she stopped her mother from rising. “Mother, stay here. I will go alone.”

“But...” Mrs. Zhou hesitated.

Pei Yun knew what she feared. “Mother, rest assured, Grandmother will not blame you...”

She paused, looking deeply into her mother’s eyes, speaking each word with solemn meaning: “From now on, I will protect you.”

Mrs. Zhou, hearing her daughter’s earnest and somewhat cryptic words, was stirred by a feeling she couldn’t quite explain. She always sensed a strange gaze from her daughter, but couldn’t say why. She smiled and nodded, trusting her.

Pei Yun rose to take her leave, saying she would return from her grandmother’s side in time for lunch with her mother.

Mrs. Zhou nodded but still seemed uneasy. She held Pei Yun’s hand tightly and earnestly cautioned, “Speak kindly with your grandmother. Do not let there be any quarrels.”

“I will.” Pei Yun smiled in reply.

Yet, the moment she donned her fox-fur cloak and stepped out of the flower hall, all warmth vanished. Her gaze turned cold and piercing, like a biting wind. She lifted her chin slightly, each step forward steady and resolute.

She would protect her mother—this was no empty promise.

In her previous life, Pei Yun never knew that her mother had suffered repeated torment from her grandmother on her behalf, that her mother developed chronic ailments and was long plagued by pain, which worsened when news of Pei Yun’s brother’s death arrived three years later, ultimately leading to her mother’s demise from grief.

But this time, no matter how domineering her grandmother was, no matter how cruel she was to her descendants, Pei Yun would show no mercy.

All the cunning, ruthlessness, and steely heart she had learned in her past life would be wielded exactly where it belonged—against this very person.