Early spring in March.
At Qifu, in Feiyunxuan, a gentle breeze rustled through the apricot blossoms, sending a flurry of petals drifting down. They landed softly in the woman’s silken hair, imbuing her with an intoxicating fragrance.
Qing Luan reclined lazily on a lounge chair, dressed in a jade-green Liuxianqun. With a graceful sweep of her sleeve, she brushed away the fallen petals.
Her delicate fingers plucked a shelled nut from the small table, bringing it to her lips for a slow, savoring chew. She then took a sip of floral tea, relishing the exquisite taste.
Across the table, Yinping was using a small brass nutcracker to shell walnuts for her, muttering under her breath, “Madam, you’ve been in the manor for nearly half a month, yet the general still shows no intention of making you his concubine. You don’t seem worried at all, leisurely enjoying the spring scenery here.”
As she spoke, she stole a glance at Qing Luan’s expression.
Qing Luan merely smiled enchantingly, her eyes shimmering like autumn water under moonlight. When the corners of her eyes lifted slightly, they glimmered with a captivating charm, blending elegance with a hint of seduction.
Even Yinping, a mere maid, felt her heart flutter under that gaze. Softening her tone, she said earnestly, “This servant is worried for you, Madam. You may not know, but that Aunt Liu from Jingyiju, relying on her status as the late wife’s sister and using the excuse of caring for the two young masters, has already seized control of the household management at Qifu.”
“The general has yet to remarry, and everyone knows Aunt Liu’s intentions. If you don’t ask the general for a proper status, I fear that once she rises to power, you’ll be the first one driven out of the manor.”
Yinping was a newly purchased maid to serve Qing Luan when she entered the manor, having been there for only half a month. Despite this, she had gathered quite a bit of information, and her concerns were not unfounded.
Unfortunately, Qing Luan was not one to engage in such struggles. She picked up a walnut kernel and gently stuffed it into Yinping’s mouth.
“Thank you for worrying on my behalf,” she said, stretching comfortably and speaking softly. “But the spring scenery is lovely today. Why bother with talk of rivalry? If Liu Xirou wishes to manage the household and the general allows it, that’s their affair. What does it have to do with us?”
“As for the position of the principal wife, Liu Xirou has been scheming for years without success. Matters yet undecided are best left as mere thoughts—why frighten ourselves with them?”
Yinping chewed the walnut kernel and swallowed, her expression resigned.
“The Liu family knows that clinging to our general promises a bright future, and they’re eager to curry favor, refusing to leave even when driven away. Madam, you are the general’s favorite. Why don’t you plan for yourself?”
Qing Luan laughed at her. “How do you know I haven’t?”
Yinping blinked, about to ask more, but Qing Luan looked up at the blooming apricot blossoms and changed the subject.
“These flowers are beautiful, but they pale in comparison to the apricot blossoms of my hometown. Buds form in February, and by March, the hills outside the city are blanketed in blooms. After half a month of admiring them, it’s time to brew apricot blossom wine…”
Qing Luan closed her eyes slightly, as if she could still smell the fragrance of blossoms and wine carried by the breeze in her memories.
Both far from their hometowns and sharing a similar fate, Yinping sighed softly and refrained from further persuasion, simply pouring her another cup of tea.
In the quiet, the sound of a stone hitting the ground reached Qing Luan’s ears. Turning her face toward the wall, she saw a round little head peeking over the top—nervous and timid yet stubbornly holding on, having eavesdropped for who knows how long.
Everything in this manor was fine, except for the two pampered little brats who were nothing but a nuisance.
Qing Luan sat up, picked up an unshelled walnut, and tossed it toward the little head over the wall.
A startled “Ouch!” followed, and the little nuisance that had ruined the scenery tumbled down, crashing noisily and setting off a chorus of pained cries.
They kept their voices low to prevent Qing Luan from overhearing their jokes, unaware that she possessed the keenest hearing and had long since grasped the situation outside. Clutching her handkerchief, she stifled a quiet laugh.
Beyond the wall, a young boy in a stone-blue round-collar robe clambered up from the heap of tumbling servants, his delicate, jade-like face flushed with embarrassment and etched with anger.
Even if discovered, he had already heard everything he needed to know.
So it was true—she had ulterior motives for clinging to Father!
Filled with righteous indignation, Qi Zhaoye turned and headed toward the garden, resolved to inform his father of the concubine’s schemes as soon as he returned.
After walking several dozen steps, he heard the heavy thud of leather boots hitting the ground, accompanied by the dull clatter of the Diedie belt against a short knife at the waist. The sound tightened Qi Zhaoye’s heart with a mix of nervousness and anticipation. Lifting his gaze, he saw it was indeed his father returning.
He immediately halted, stepping aside to make way. For a nine-year-old, his bow and salute were impressively formal. “Your son pays respects to Father.”
His disciplined demeanor gave no hint of the child who had just been eavesdropping by scaling the wall.
Qi Zheng slowed his pace, casting a brief glance at his eldest son before sweeping his eyes over the servants behind him, who hung their heads in shame. Frowning, he asked, “At this hour, why are you not in your courtyard studying? What brings you here?”
When Qing Luan moved into Feiyunxuan, Qi Zheng had instructed everyone in the household that she cherished peace and quiet, and no one was to disturb her without reason.
Qi Zhaoye’s heart raced with panic as he prepared to explain, but his father’s tall figure brushed past him, leaving behind a dismissive remark: “Knowing you are usually sensible, I’ll let it pass this time. Return to your studies.”
With that, Qi Zheng turned and entered Feiyunxuan.
Qi Zhaoye stood rooted to the spot, the concern he had meant to share stuck in his throat. From beyond the wall, he heard the woman’s melodious laughter and the man’s tender inquiries. His heart felt as though pierced by needles again and again, and his eyes instantly reddened.
A servant beside him hurried to console him: “The General is mindful of your studies, Young Master. If not for that Qing Luan bewitching him, the General would surely have taken time to speak with you properly.”
In the face of reality, no amount of comfort could ease the pain.
—Father’s eyes were only for that concubine. She was so detestable, with ill intentions, yet Father favored her alone, caring nothing for anyone else.
Clenching his small fists, Qi Zhaoye wiped away his tears and stormed off in a huff.
The sun dipped westward, casting long shadows as apricot blossoms carpeted the courtyard.
On the soft couch, the delicate young woman nestled against the man’s sturdy, sun-bronzed arm, her breath still uneven. Hearing him recount his encounter with Qi Zhaoye outside the courtyard earlier, she secretly smiled to herself.
Raising an arm to wrap around his chest, she feigned virtuous concern. “General, you came straight to my courtyard upon returning home. Why not visit your two sons first? Since you’ve already seen the eldest, shouldn’t you have shown him some care instead of focusing solely on me? I wouldn’t want the young master to resent me for it.”
Her charming, endearing tone softened Qi Zheng’s heart, easing the hard lines of his stern features. He clasped her hand and pressed it to his chest, reluctant to let go.
“My thoughts were with you, so naturally I came to see you first.”
“As for those two children…” Qi Zheng lowered his gaze in contemplation, his rough calloused fingers stroking the back of her hand, sending shivers through her. With her warm, soft form in his arms, his worries seemed to lighten slightly.
“Whenever I see them, I’m reminded of their mother. Everyone says I wronged her, that I was heartless toward her. But who knows how she spun lies, pretending to be virtuous and gentle, yet in her madness, she nearly drove others to despair? I could not raise a hand against her…”
Though Qi Zheng spoke with heaviness, Qing Luan paid little heed to his words.
A dead person, living in others’ mouths, had long since blurred their true appearance. Qing Luan didn’t care about her or her sons.
She only cared about herself.
Casually offering a few words of comfort, she sat up from the couch, reached for the clothes at the foot of the bed, and dressed herself piece by piece.
Qi Zheng propped himself up behind her, his sturdy arm wrapping around her shoulder, pulling her back into his embrace, as if reluctant to part.
Qing Luan teased, “General, please spare your humble servant.”
Qi Zheng didn’t let go, his expression hidden in her soft black hair. After a long moment, he said, “At court this morning, His Majesty ordered me to go north to campaign against the Xiongnu. I’ll leave early next month.”
Qing Luan’s heart skipped a beat. She turned to look at him, worried, “Didn’t you just return from the southwest? Why is His Majesty sending you out again? Can’t you refuse? There are more than just you among the military officials in court…”
Counting from the day she was presented to him, she had been with him for nearly half a year—several months in the southwest, two months on the road—and had only just settled down.
Whether Qi Zheng’s departure would bring fortune or misfortune was uncertain.
The more she thought about it, the more she felt this shouldn’t happen. She gripped his wrist, pleading gently.
“Couldn’t you pretend to be ill and pass this on to someone else? Surely His Majesty, remembering your merit in suppressing bandits in the southwest, wouldn’t blame you harshly. Even if the General doesn’t consider me, he should think of Qifu and the two young masters. If you’re not here, who will hold up this household?”
As she spoke, she began to cry.
Qi Zheng watched her quietly, a flicker of reluctance flashing in his eyes. He pulled her into his embrace and said in a low voice, “I volunteered to go. There’s something I must settle. Wait for me in the capital. In less than six months, I will give you an answer.”
Qing Luan’s heart sank, her eyes dimming.
What answer did she need? It was just a man willingly charging into battle for power and glory. No matter how much he doted on her, it was only a temporary distraction.
Men were all like this—full of talk about love, yet unwilling to yield even a little for her.
“Since the General has made up his mind… I won’t ask anymore…” She pretended to sob twice, softening her body as she sank into his embrace, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe away the tears at the corner of her eyes that held little sincerity.
Qi Zheng’s broad shoulders supported her steadily as he comforted her, “When I return, I’ll stay in the capital and not leave again. I’ll accompany you every day from then on, alright?”
Qing Luan murmured a low agreement, her mind elsewhere.
With separation approaching, they clung to each other in silence until the spring chill washed away the lingering warmth from their bodies.
The spring sky, like the human heart, was sometimes cold, sometimes warm.
In the afternoon, Qi Zheng went to a banquet at a colleague’s residence. Qing Luan sent Yinping to sweep fallen flowers in the courtyard, while she herself went behind the bed, counting and recounting the banknotes she kept hidden at the bottom of her trunk until her heart finally settled.
After putting away the banknotes, she called Yinping to take a walk in the garden.
The spring breeze brushed against the light, flowing hem of her skirt. The garden branches were newly green, and the air carried the faint scent of tender sprouts and fresh grass.
Qing Luan took a deep breath, savoring the tranquility of the moment, when suddenly, from the sparse woods beside the path, a small figure darted out—face and hands covered in mud—running straight to her and firmly colliding with her skirt.
“Ah!” Yinping was startled, reaching out to push the child away. The child only came up to Qing Luan’s knees—it was the second young master of the household, Qi Yuchen.
“How… how is there no maid accompanying the second young master?” Yinping didn’t dare to scold aloud. Looking at Qi Yuchen, who was grinning foolishly and extending his dirty hands, she glanced helplessly at Qing Luan.
Qing Luan scanned the surroundings but saw no one else around.
Everyone in the mansion knew that recently, it was Liu Xirou who had been taking care of Qi Yuchen. For this child to come running to her now, it could only be Liu Xirou seizing the opportunity to test her. It certainly wasn’t because her skirt was smeared with honey, attracting this little rascal.
The five-year-old child, with short limbs, was plump and fair-skinned, dressed in festive red brocade clothes, looking like a sticky rice dumpling. Qing Luan grabbed him by the back of his collar and lifted him up.
The little dumpling, experiencing weightlessness for the first time, widened his eyes and stopped laughing. His small nose twitched, finally showing a hint of the innocent cuteness a child should have.
Qing Luan asked him, “How did you get your hands so muddy?”
Qi Yuchen pouted. “Auntie said I could play.”
“You can play all you want, but why come running here?”
“You’re a bad woman!” Qi Yuchen blurted out, then deflated, guiltily glancing to the side as if waiting for someone to rescue him.
Hearing this, Qing Luan sighed and carried Qi Yuchen toward the pond at the end of the grove.
She didn’t go looking for trouble, but trouble came looking for her.
As the shimmering water drew closer, Qi Yuchen instinctively sensed danger and burst into tears, clinging to her arm and struggling. “Waaah! Let me go!”
Qing Luan pretended to toss him into the water. Qi Yuchen, pampered since birth, was afraid of the cold even when bathing in warm water at night. How could he endure the chilly pond water in early spring? Terrified, he clung to her arm, crying and refusing to let go.
Only when his crying became unbearable did Qing Luan ask, “Do you know what you did wrong?”
Qi Yuchen sniffled, tears and snot streaming down his face, looking utterly pitiful. “I shouldn’t have… dirtied your skirt.”
“And what else?”
“I shouldn’t have called you a bad woman.”
“And what else?”
“I shouldn’t have… played in the mud.”
The child was still young, easily swayed by a few words from those around him to “cause trouble.” If she didn’t discipline this little master thoroughly, she wouldn’t be able to walk freely in this garden in the future.
Satisfied with his “confession,” Qing Luan told him, “Second Young Master, stay away from me from now on and watch your tongue. If there’s a next time, I’ll tell your father and have him spank you.”
Qi Yuchen, still sniffling, nodded gloomily. When she dropped him to the ground, he rolled over, scrambled up, and scurried away.
Yinping, watching from the side, stifled a laugh.
“Madam has no intention of competing with Aunt Liu, yet she’s willing to take the Second Young Master to task. Look how frightened he is—his face has gone pale.”
“Precisely because I can’t hold a grudge against a child, I have to scare him so he remembers. Otherwise, who knows what filthy things he’ll bring next time to disgust me.” Qing Luan shook her hand; her sleeve was stained with tears, snot, and mud. She no longer had the mood for a stroll.
The mistress and her maid returned to the courtyard to change clothes.
In the garden, Qi Zhaoye had been persuaded by his servant to take a walk. Not far from the pond, he heard his younger brother’s cries.
“Brother—” Qi Yuchen ran toward him, sobbing.
Qi Zhaoye crouched down, intending to hug him, but saw his younger brother covered in filth, his pants soaked through—he had wet himself.
Hearing his younger brother’s tearful account of how Qing Luan had threatened to throw him into the pond, Qi Zhaoye’s anger surged. It was as if that piercing, mocking laughter echoed in his ears again, unsettling his heart.
This woman had already bewitched his father, and now she was bullying Yuchen!
Thinking of his late mother and aunt’s gentle and dignified demeanor, he felt even more that Qing Luan was unrefined and petty, lacking any sense of propriety—wicked and detestable.
Qi Zhaoye comforted his younger brother. “Don’t be afraid. Your brother will stand up for you. I won’t let that woman bully you again.”
He secretly resolved to drive that woman out of the house, to make his father settle down, and to vent his anger for his younger brother.
The next day, however, he saw his younger brother nestled in Qing Luan’s arms.
His father stood by, smiling as he watched them—a happy family of three, harmonious and joyful—leaving him as the outsider alone.
Author’s Note:
This is a forbidden love that begins with shelter and ends in ruin. If you enjoy this story, please bookmark it. I hope you, my dear readers, will savor it happily and feel content and fulfilled.