In the early spring, a few green plum buds had quietly blossomed. Their tender petals, touched by lamplight, shimmered faintly among the branches. A breeze carried their fragrance across the pavilion.
Shadows flickered, brushing across his refined features frame by frame, so striking one could hardly resist the urge to linger. Her soft lips clung tightly, teeth grazing lightly, the tip of her tongue pressing insistently as though seeking entry. Yet he remained unmoved. When she opened her eyes, they glistened like autumn waters, a delicate radiance pooling within them, lending her beauty a dangerous, bewitching edge.
That fleeting enchantment stirred something in Pei Yue, leaving him momentarily dazed. His self‑control was extraordinary. After only a pause, he turned his face aside. The lips that had lunged toward him instead landed against his throat. Her damp tongue brushed his Adam’s apple like a dragonfly skimming water. He forced himself to swallow a breath of cool air, suppressing the shiver that rose across his skin, and quickly set Shu Yun back down.
But the girl was clearly drunk. Her waist was pliant as silk, and the instant his hand withdrew, her whole body collapsed toward the floor. With no choice, Pei Yue caught her again—this time gripping her shoulders rather than her waist—and guided her to lean against a pavilion column.
Shu Yun, tipsy and unsteady, slumped against the pillar, her eyes clouded with grievance and confusion. Why wouldn’t this beautiful man let her kiss him?
Pei Yue deliberately stepped back, drawing in a deep breath to quell the heat surging through his chest. He looked at her with a weary frown. He had only meant to save someone, yet somehow he had invited trouble. What now?
In the eyes of the world, they had already shared an intimacy of the flesh. This young girl had just been rejected from her betrothal—if he pretended nothing had happened, who knew what scandal or lawsuit might arise? One way or another, he had to take responsibility. Very well. The Retired Emperor and the court ministers were pressing him hard; bringing her into the palace tonight would serve two purposes at once.
Pei Yue straightened the collar that Shu Yun had rumpled, then asked solemnly, “Miss, who is your father, and where is your family’s residence?”
Shu Yun’s graceful figure leaned against the pavilion pillar, half her delicate face resting on the back of her hand, her posture curving with languid allure—like a stranded mermaid. The palace lantern above spilled its glow over her, and beneath that light she was as radiant as jade, truly the living image of the verse: ‘Lotus blooms pale beside her beauty, jeweled fragrance drifting through the water halls.’
Even Pei Yue, a man untouched by women, had to admit—this girl’s looks were enough to topple a kingdom. Even among the countless beauties of the imperial palace, none could rival her.
Her drowsy eyes shimmered with complaint as she murmured, “Just now I asked you, why did you not answer?”
Pei Yue pressed his brow, sighed, and resigned himself. “I am Pei… My mother died young; my father still lives. There are seven sons in my family, and I am the youngest…”
Shu Yun, muddled by drink, did not catch the weight of that word ‘I’—the imperial pronoun. All she remembered was that he had seven brothers. In ordinary families, when there were too many sons, one might be sent out as a son‑in‑law.
Her interest sparked. She straightened slightly and said, “Seven brothers—your household must bear a heavy burden. Have you thought of saving your family the expense of taking a wife…?”
The evening breeze stirred her robes, revealing her fragile grace. Pei Yue turned his gaze aside, unsure how to answer. Yet out of the corner of his eye, he saw her stumbling toward him again. This time he did not evade. Since he had already decided to take her as consort, there was no need to avoid her. He steadied her with those pale hands.
Shu Yun leaned closer, ready to confide her heart—only to notice his lips were torn, a trace of blood glistening there. Her eyes widened. She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and rose on tiptoe to wipe it away. Pei Yue, puzzled, took the embroidered cloth from her hand and brushed his mouth. Only then did he realize—she had bitten him. This girl… How was he to face court tomorrow?
The snow‑white kerchief was stained with red. Pei Yue held it, hesitating whether to return it, when suddenly Shu Yun clutched her lower belly, bending like a shrimp, her face twisted in pain. “Sir… wait a moment, I’ll be right back…”
It was stomach pain—she needed the privy.
Supporting herself against the pillar, Shu Yun turned and staggered down the corridor, swaying as she went.
Pei Yue shook his head helplessly. Moments later, he even heard a few thuds echoing from the stairway corridor, as though something had been knocked over. He let out a quiet laugh and patiently waited for her return.
Once she returned, he would ask about her family background, send her home, and then issue an imperial decree the next day to welcome her into the palace formally.
The Grand Chamberlain of the Directorate of Ceremonies, Liu Kui, had already been waiting in the corridor. When Shu Yun left, the old eunuch stepped forward, bowing with a smile. “Congratulations, Your Majesty, felicitations indeed…”
Pei Yue cast him a glance, his expression unchanged. Lowering his eyes, he noticed the blood‑stained handkerchief in his hand—the crimson spreading across the white cloth like red plum blossoms in snow. He stared at it for a moment, then clenched it in his palm. “The antidote?”
Liu Kui froze, dumbfounded. “Antidote? You still want an antidote? Isn’t there already one at hand?” He quickly tucked his sleeve behind him.
Pei Yue’s gaze turned cool, his tone grave. “You would have me take medicine and then go to her? Besides, the girl is drunk, freshly cast off from her betrothal. If I were to claim her now, it would be nothing but taking advantage. When she sobers, she will surely resent it. I may be the Son of Heaven, but I cannot force what is unwilling.”
Deflated, Liu Kui reluctantly produced the antidote, wrapped in silk, and offered it with both hands. Pei Yue took it, sniffed to confirm, and swallowed it in one draught.
The antidote did not take effect immediately. Heat still surged through his body, so he stepped forward into the night breeze, letting the cool air wash over him. Master and servant stood together in silence. Liu Kui glanced back toward the corridor, but Shu Yun had not returned. Worse, she had gone to the privy, and as an old eunuch, he could hardly follow. Turning back, he saw Pei Yue lost in thought and ventured, “Your Majesty, what rank do you intend to bestow upon the young lady?”
Pei Yue had just been pondering the Ministry of Revenue’s accounts. Pulled back by the question, he recalled Shu Yun’s appearance and said, “Judging by her attire, she is not from a noble household.”
For the past three months, the Retired Emperor and the imperial consorts had contrived countless occasions for him to meet the noble daughters of the capital. Yet he had never seen Shu Yun among them. Clearly, she was not of high birth. Her dress was simple, not lavish—no daughter of a wealthy, extravagant family.
“But she is, after all, my first consort. I would not have her feel slighted.”
“As for her rank, I shall decide after asking her,” Pei Yue said. He needed to know what official post Shu Yun’s father held.
“Yes, yes, Your Majesty is most thorough…”
They waited another quarter of an hour, but Shu Yun still had not returned. Now Liu Kui grew uneasy—had something happened? The old eunuch wiped the fine sweat from his brow and asked permission to go down and look.
Thinking of how Shu Yun had drunk wine, Pei Yue worried she might have stumbled into trouble, so he allowed Liu Kui to go.
But Liu Kui had already dismissed the attendants, and now no one was left to send. He climbed to the sixth floor himself and stopped outside the privy. He dared not enter, so he waited a long while. At last, convinced there was no sound within, sweat poured down his face. Fearing the girl had vanished, he quickly signaled for guards to search the entire Zhaixing Pavilion. Yet there was no trace of Shu Yun.
On the quiet rooftop, Pei Yue looked down at the blood‑stained handkerchief in his hand and let out a bitter laugh. “What is this supposed to be?”
Late at night, Liu Kui followed nervously behind him into Fengtian Hall. Watching the tall figure stride ahead, he asked anxiously, “Your Majesty, perhaps I should send men from the Eastern Depot and the Embroidered Guards to search. After all, only a few people can enter the gardens—it would not take long to find her…”
A rare blossom had appeared on the iron tree; it must not be allowed to wither.
Pei Yue was indeed angry, though not so far gone as to think a single kiss bound him to her forever. He halted beneath the lantern‑lit corridor, turned his head, and looked at Liu Kui.
The chill of early spring cut through the air, yet Liu Kui broke into a cold sweat. He bent low before the emperor, scarcely daring to breathe.
Pei Yue was silent for a moment, then shook his head with a wry smile. “Forget it. Perhaps when she sobers, she will not be willing…” He brushed the scab at the corner of his lip, clicked his tongue, and stepped into the imperial study with weary resignation.
Liu Kui watched Pei Yue’s tall figure disappear behind the screen, then struck his own forehead in frustration. Why hadn’t he been more cautious?
What was this—His Majesty, the Son of Heaven, first being taken advantage of, then abandoned? Truly, it was like seeing a ghost.
The next morning, spring light was dazzling. Warm sunshine streamed through the lattice windows, stinging Shu Yun’s eyes. She rubbed at the corners, her head aching as though bound by an iron band—tight, swollen, and painful. After much effort, she managed to sit up, only for a burning heat to surge through her belly. Clutching her chest, she leaned over the couch and retched into a spittoon.
Shaoyao, hearing the commotion, entered carrying a bowl of honey water. Seeing Shu Yun awake and in her usual state, she let out a half‑angry laugh. “Miss, you have such fine composure. While I was running myself ragged catching thieves, you dared to drink wine! Without me at your side, how could you be so reckless? Fortunately, you didn’t encounter some scoundrel—what if someone had taken advantage of you?”
The thought still made Shaoyao shudder. Last night, she and a maid from the Wang household had finally caught the culprit, dragged him to the gate, and handed him over to Nanny Shan. Then they hurried back to find their mistresses. They searched the lower three floors of Zhaixing Pavilion without hearing a sound, only to stumble upon the two young ladies on the sixth-floor corridor—collapsed together in a heap. The sight had terrified the maids. Each carried one mistress on her back and hurried them out of the gardens.
Now Shaoyao set the bowl on the side table, helped Shu Yun sit upright, and looked into her dazed, muddled eyes with a cold smile. “Well, my lady, how was the taste of wine?”
“Not pleasant…” Shu Yun admitted ruefully. Her stomach churned, her head felt like mush, and her mind was crowded with strange, unfamiliar images. She let Shaoyao feed her a sip of honey water, then leaned against the pillow, quietly pondering.
Last night she had dreamed—a dream of a man strikingly handsome. She even seemed bold enough to kiss him. And after that, she remembered nothing. Though she called it a dream, it had felt far too real. That face lingered vividly in her mind even now, the warmth of his lips still clinging to the edge of her teeth.
Shu Yun touched her own lips, then shook her head fiercely. Surely it had only been a spring dream. Ashamed, she covered her face and burrowed back beneath the quilt.
At that moment, the bead curtain rustled. A beautiful woman, supported by attendants, stepped inside. The weather had warmed these past days, and Madam Su’s health had improved enough for her to walk again. After the events of last night, how could a mother not be anxious? At dawn she had come straight to Shu Yun’s quarters.
Madam Su wore a lake‑blue lined robe. Standing by the bed, she glanced in and saw her daughter still lying abed. She chided gently, “The sun is already high, and you have not washed or dressed? Your father waits for you in the main hall.”
At the reminder of that bitter matter, Shu Yun’s body tensed. The quilt was pulled back, revealing her disheveled yet still lovely face. “Mother, I have been unfilial, causing you and Father worry…”
Seeing her daughter’s reddened eyes, Madam Su’s sternness softened. She waved the maid aside, sat at the bedside, and drew Shu Yun into her arms. “Good child, it matters not. A lofty marriage is not always a blessing. Better to live freely than to bow to others every day. This match was never to my liking. Now that it is broken, I may arrange a new match for you. In my view, our Yun’er is innocent and lively—why not simply take a husband into our household? When the old matriarch passes and our branch divides, we can close our doors and live our own life. Would that not be joyful?”
Hearing her mother’s words, the shadow on Shu Yun’s brow lifted. She clung tightly to her mother.
Nanny Shan entered with two maids to dress and arrange Shu Yun’s hair. Soon, mother and daughter walked together to Yuanxing Hall in the main courtyard. Passing through the double doors, they saw beneath the hanging scroll “Cranes in the Pine Forest” a man seated with a fine beard, not yet forty, his bearing calm and refined like a clear moon and gentle breeze.
It was Shu Yun’s father, Shu Lanfeng, Assistant Director of the Imperial Academy.
As Shu Yun stepped in, she lifted her skirts to kneel in greeting, but Shu Lanfeng waved her off, rising to welcome his wife and daughter into the eastern chamber to sit.
The Third Master Shu and his wife Madam Su sat opposite each other, while Shu Yun attended at the side.
Madam Su asked, “Master, did you speak clearly with the Prince?”
The Third Master sighed. “Last night Prince Huaiyang came to me, speaking at length, reluctant to part. He asked if I would give the heir another chance. I refused. The prince was both ashamed and angry, vowing he would make amends. But for the Shu family’s dignity, I told him to let it go.”
“The heir’s rank may be noble, but he is unfit as a son‑in‑law. If he is given to the elder branch, so be it…” Shu Lanfeng looked at Shu Yun, his gaze gentle. “You are not like others. You are the only daughter of your mother and me, the pearl of my palm. Your marriage need not be rushed. If a good match is found, you may wed; if not, we may take a husband into our household. Either way, this matter is finished. Do not dwell on it.”
With parents so open‑minded, how could Shu Yun remain troubled? She brushed away her worries, bent her knees, and said, “Your daughter understands…”
The couple exchanged a smile and said no more. Madam Su raised her brows and instructed Nanny Shan, “Bring the morning meal.”
Soon, two maids carried in several boxes of food. Shu Yun herself helped her mother wash her hands, and the two sat close together. A moment ago the family had been cheerful and at ease—but when Shu Yun saw the dishes laid out on the table, her face finally changed.
Yesterday’s breakfast had been three bowls of bird’s nest, a plate of crystal dumplings, four kinds of pastries, a platter of steamed duck, and a dish of sliced fish. Today, there was only a single basket of buns, a few plain mantou, and a pot of soybean soup.
The Third Master’s face darkened. He lifted his chopsticks, then set them down again. “I will go speak with the Old Madam.”
“Wait…” Madam Su stopped him. “Husband, do not be hasty. This is a matter of the inner quarters—leave it to me.”
Seeing his wife calm and composed, the Third Master restrained himself and finally sat back down.
Madam Su smiled lightly. “Serve the dishes.”
The family of three ate in silence—small buns and a few sips of bean soup.
Shu Yun’s chest felt tight; she could hardly swallow more than a few bites. Just as she was about to set down her chopsticks, she caught her mother’s steady smile. “If you don’t fill your belly, how can you win the battle?”
Her mother’s teasing tone made Shu Yun laugh despite herself. She stuffed half a mantou into her mouth and chewed fiercely.
“Later, I’ll go with Mother.”
Madam Su said nothing more. After breakfast, she urged her husband to go on to the Imperial Academy, while she herself rested in the main hall to preserve her strength—her health was fragile, and she needed to conserve it.
Meanwhile, Shu Yun helped Nanny Shan clear the dishes. The two whispered together in the western chamber.
“When Madam gave birth to you, her body was left weakened, unable to conceive again. At first it was nothing, but when you turned five, the Old Madam flared up, insisting your father take a concubine. Master grew angry and overturned her table. The Second Madam seized the chance, accusing him of disrespecting his elders, even threatening to report him to the Censorate.”
“When Madam heard, she had no choice but to go to the upper hall to argue. In the end, she paid the price of two shops to secure peace for the third branch…”
At this point, Nanny Shan’s voice grew thick with sorrow. “Those two shops were the dowry your uncle had painstakingly prepared for Madam—meant to be yours one day. Now they’ve fallen into the hands of those vile people. Every time I think of it, I choke with anger.”
“If they had only treated us well, it might be bearable. But instead, they scheme and cut us down at every turn.”
“That shop was on Tongluo Street, at the third crossroads—a prime location. The Second Miss of the elder branch stole your marriage, the Second Madam of the second branch seized our shops, and the Old Madam reaped benefits from both sides. They feast and prosper, all at our expense. This grievance cannot be swallowed.”
Shu Yun’s eyes turned cold. “I had barely broken off my betrothal, and already they come to trample us.” She bit her lip and asked, “And Shu Zhi’s maid?”
Nanny Shan brightened a little, wiping her tears. “She has been placed safely. Do not worry. I have already reported to Madam, and she knows what to do.”
Madam Su’s health was poor, but she was no weakling.
By midday, a messenger arrived from the upper hall, summoning Madam Su and Shu Yun to the Old Madam.
Shu Yun rolled up her sleeves, ready to rise, but Madam Su pressed her down. “You stay here and lie down. Do not go anywhere. I will go alone.” She lifted her gaze to the long‑awaited spring sunlight outside the window. “When one is in a low place, there are advantages to being low.”
She smiled softly. “Then one may act without restraint…”