Cuihua's eyes sparkled as she opened up and began chattering about what had happened in the palace: "Take today's idle chat with my younger sisters, for instance. Fifth Sister has a sweet tongue and said she'd never gotten along so happily with siblings other than those she'd grown up with. Naturally, I took the opportunity to deflect with a modest remark—'You really know how to flatter a person, Fifth Sister. If Crown Princess Sister and Third Brother heard that, they'd be heartbroken.' But the moment those words left my mouth, Fifth Sister's expression turned a bit uncomfortable, and Fourth Sister quietly shot her a glare."
Pei Huaiche listened with lowered eyes, his long lashes casting a faint shadow beneath them.
Recalling the intelligence he'd gathered earlier, he wasn't surprised that Li Chan and Li Yuan were so reticent about the Third Prince, but the fact that they also harbored a rift with the Crown Princess, who was known for her virtue, did catch him somewhat off guard.
After a brief pause, he spoke in a low, measured voice, like still waters running deep: "For children of the imperial family, unless they share both parents, it's not unusual for some friction to exist between them. But the way Fourth and Fifth Princesses behave suggests there's something more beneath the surface."
Cuihua nodded, a loose strand of hair by her temple swaying gently: "Exactly. I'm not from the same father as them either, yet they're perfectly happy to be close to me. But that Third Brother of theirs, who shares the same father—they clearly avoid him like the plague, even more so than they avoid mentioning Crown Princess Sister."
Pei Huaiche tapped his fingertips lightly on the solid wood armrest of his wheelchair, lost in thought. "If the sisters are like this, what about Her Majesty the Empress? Even if she has her reservations, she shouldn't show any sign of it in front of you."
Cuihua's delicate lashes trembled: "Mother isn't exactly watertight, is she? There are things I clearly want to ask, and I rehearse my questions over and over in my head before seeing her, but when I finally stand before her, I can never find the right moment to bring them up. Once or twice might be coincidence, but when it comes to my birth father and Crown Princess Sister… so many times, the conversation always gets steered elsewhere without my meaning it to."
Pei Huaiche's right hand interlaced fingers with hers, while his left remained on the armrest, knuckles slightly bent as if weighing his words: "You… really want to know about your birth father?"
Cuihua extended a fingertip and traced lightly over the calluses on his palm: "Of course I do. Though Father has treated me wonderfully and I've never lacked for a father's love, he's still the one who created me together with Mother. I can't help but wonder what he looked like, what kind of person he was… Besides, there's always been something strange about the relationship between Mother and that monk stepfather she found for me. I originally thought it was because she'd always kept a place in her heart for my birth father."
Pei Huaiche's brow relaxed slightly: "Strange? What makes you say that?"
Cuihua tilted her head, her cherry lips pursing slightly in a girlish expression of puzzlement: "I've heard from the palace attendants that my monk stepfather has been in the palace for years, yet he still observes many monastic precepts in various aspects of his life. Not only does he fast and worship Buddha daily, he pays no attention to matters of court or the inner palace. Even for his nights with Mother, he only attends on the first and fifteenth of each month. If Mother summons him on those days, he goes; if not, he quietly waits for the next month. He's so ascetic… it's like he never truly returned to secular life at all."
This was something Pei Huaiche hadn't anticipated either, and it drew a sharp focus to his gaze: "To maintain such a bearing in the harem, and to have been nothing more than a humble person of the cloth before entering the palace—yet still hold the position of Empress Consort steadily? And all your younger siblings are his children?"
Cuihua was clearly just as puzzled, so she simply lifted her chin slightly and said half-jokingly: "Husband, is there any chance that blessings like becoming Empress Consort or Prince Consort are more a matter of heaven's will? Maybe pleasing the gods and Buddhas is more effective than racking your brains competing with people in the mortal world."
Pei Huaiche was momentarily speechless. After a long silence, he said with resignation: "…Are you suggesting I should take up some faith too? Twice a month—are you trying to frustrate your husband to death so you can become a widow?"
Cuihua swallowed, recalling that his usual frequency was once every two or three days, stretching to five or six only when she was on her period. She couldn't help but think that if he had some faith and practiced a bit of asceticism, that really wouldn't be a bad thing…
This time, Pei Huaiche ultimately chose not to soothe her with empty words, nor to lull her into continuing that seemingly stable dream.
First, because he understood she couldn't remain naive forever—she needed to learn to see the subtle complexities within and beyond these palace walls. Second, because he'd suddenly realized he might have been underestimating his young wife all along.
The principles of conduct and verbal sparring he taught her—she grasped them with a single hint, never requiring him to repeat himself twice.
Whenever it came time to put those principles into practice, she showed no timidity either. Instead, she often adapted with remarkable agility, turning his teachings back with just the right touch.
What was even rarer was that she wasn't rigid or dogmatic, doing only what he said without any thought of her own. Nor did she become complacent with small progress, gradually growing willful and ceasing to heed his words.
Though she accepted his guidance just the same, looking at her now, she hadn't followed a single step down the path the young Emperor had once taken.
So much so that Pei Huaiche couldn't help but entertain the thought that perhaps he wasn't so bad at teaching after all—the reason things had escalated to the point where the young emperor would go so far as to want him dead likely lay with the young emperor himself.
In any case, when a "child" performed well, one ought to offer praise and rewards—this was a principle Pei Huaiche understood well.
Thus, when it came to her subsequent arrangements, he naturally followed along obediently and cooperated without complaint.
The next day, as their carriage made its way to the medical clinic, Cuihua recounted their more detailed cover identities to him.
Since Steward Di ultimately didn't dare presume upon her status as a princess, the role of "distant relative" fell to Pei Huaiche instead.
According to the story Steward Di had previously worked out with Cuihua, Pei Huaiche was the son of her maternal cousin.
His Western appearance was explained by the fact that his father had indeed been a Western merchant who came to trade in these parts years ago. His mother had entrusted herself to the wrong man—his father abandoned his wife and child shortly after his birth and was never heard from again. He lived with his mother in the borderlands of Yuan until her death from illness when he was twelve.
As for her, she was the young wife he had married two years prior. Though the young couple had little money, they were a handsome pair, and their days were sweet. She ran a small business to manage the household while he took on odd jobs copying texts and studied diligently for the imperial examinations, hoping to earn himself a title and position.
But fate was fickle—Yuan had grown turbulent in recent years. The injuries covering his body were sustained when, shortly after their wedding, he set out for the provincial capital to sit for the provincial examination and encountered bandits on the road. In his frantic flight, he stumbled and fell from a cliff.
Fortunately, his young wife refused to abandon him. She had searched far and wide for medical treatment, barely managing to keep him alive.
His legs, however, had been left with severe disability. With their meager savings nearly exhausted and their livelihood cut off, the couple had no choice but to seek refuge with this wealthy "distant maternal uncle" in Liang.
Cuihua was clearly quite pleased with this story. Her brows curved like crescent moons, her smile radiant: "This is perfect—now I can call you 'husband' in front of others with every right to do so."
Ever since entering the princess's estate, he had gone from being her legitimate husband to a male concubine of awkward status, treated no better than a servant.
He had made the transition with ease—whenever anyone else was present, he would respectfully address her as "Princess." It was she who still harbored lingering resentment, unwilling to accept that she could only quietly call him "husband" when they were alone.
Seeing the young woman's beaming, lovely face, Pei Huaiche smiled along with her: "I'm the one who lost the title—why are you more anxious about it than I am?"
Cuihua's dark eyes sparkled with lively brilliance as she leaned in closer to him affectionately: "Because I'm the one who wants to give you that title. Didn't I tell you when I took you in as my husband? Once we've saved up enough money, we'll build a new house, hold a proper wedding in grand style, and have a few children… According to our original plan, by this time the year after next, we'd already be parents."
Perhaps because he had grown up watching his imperial brother go to great lengths—three times mobilizing the people and spending lavishly to hold grand Fengshan ceremonies—all for the sake of ensuring the continuation and health of his bloodline, Pei Huaiche himself held no particular attachment to the idea of children. But as always, if it was what she wished for, he would go along with it.
After all, Pei Huaiche, Prince Xuan of Yuan, had "died" cleanly. He had even abandoned the royal surname Pei. Whatever surname their future children took—Li or Liu—they would never again be drawn into the infighting and strife of the Pei royal family, which he had seen more than enough of and grown increasingly disgusted with.
Cuihua seemed determined to make up for all the times she'd missed calling him "husband" these past days. Throughout the journey, "husband" this and "husband" that flowed from her lips, her voice sweet enough to drip honey.
Even when they arrived at the medical clinic, she showed no sign of stopping.
Their modified carriage had been stripped of its elaborate decorations. Not only was the interior more spacious, but a ramp had been installed at the bottom so the wheelchair could be pushed on and off with ease.
The young apprentice waiting at the clinic entrance had just helped the coachman secure the ramp when he heard a girl's crisp, tender voice from behind the carriage curtain, playfully teasing her husband.
Cuihua's voice was full of mischievous laughter: "Husband, getting off is harder than getting on. Getting on is uphill—I just need to use more strength, and at worst you won't fall. But getting off is downhill—aren't you afraid that if I lose my grip for a moment, I'll send you tumbling down with the wheelchair?"
She was, of course, deliberately teasing him.
Back in Baishi Village, she had pushed her heavy tofu cart back and forth between the village and town every day, crossing countless slopes and bumps. Pei Huaiche plus his wheelchair didn't even weigh as much as her tofu cart. Besides, a man who had rolled down a cliff face could hardly be less sturdy than the tofu in her cart.
So Pei Huaiche was completely unruffled. His tone was calm, even carrying a hint of indulgence: "No matter. If you drop me, you drop me. Your husband's legs are crippled now—you're the only one I can rely on. Whether you scold me, hit me, or drop me, I have no choice but to go along with it."
Though it was said in jest, Cuihua's delicate brows knitted slightly at his words. She pouted her red lips, displeased: "What nonsense are you talking? I dote on you—when have I ever scolded or hit you? In broad daylight, don't go slandering my good name!"
Her tone sounded like a mix of petulance and complaint, but on closer listen, the affection in her voice was unmistakable—clearly the playful banter of a young couple deeply in love.
The apprentice, who had already learned of their situation from his master, watched them with quiet astonishment.
A medical clinic was a place that saw all the coldness and fickleness of the world. Most patients who needed long-term care and couldn't manage their own lives would soon be seen as burdens by their families. Not to mention spouses—even with birth parents, there were plenty of cases where no filial child remained at a sickbed for long. Yet this young woman, having cared for her husband who was crippled right after their wedding for two full years, still showed nothing but tender affection, without the slightest hint of disgust. Truly rare.
When they followed the apprentice into the clinic and met Doctor Qu's wife, who was helping out there, she simply let her gaze travel between Pei Huaiche in his wheelchair and Cuihua pushing it, and understood at once.
The doctor's wife was a brisk, forthright woman. The moment she saw them, her eyes lit up, and she blurted out in admiration: "Oh my heavens! This young gentleman and young lady—are you two immortals who've stepped right out of a painting? How can you be so stunningly handsome and beautiful?"
This clinic, owing to Doctor Qu's superb medical skills, charged no small fees, and noble patrons came and went without end. Yet never before had they seen a couple where both were so exceptionally good-looking.
As she led them to find Doctor Qu, the doctor's wife kept praising them: "When Old Di mentioned his nephew earlier, I thought to myself—the lad may have injured his legs, but he's a fortunate one, marrying a young lady who refused to abandon him and dotes on him so. Now that I see them, no wonder she can't bear to part with him. With a husband this handsome, who could bear to let go?"
Hearing someone praise her husband, Cuihua beamed with delight and replied with a hint of smugness: "Isn't that so! Back in our village, it was a poor, remote place. The girls there thought his family was too poor and wouldn't marry him, so he was delayed all the way to twenty-eight. I was the only one who saw it clearly—if there's no money, you can earn it together after marriage, but if your husband isn't good-looking, you'll be vexed every day for the rest of your life."
Her tale was half true, half embellished, but her heart's true motive of wanting him for his handsomeness was genuine—after all, when she'd first brought him home, aside from his face, he'd had nothing else to his name.
Unexpectedly, her remarks struck a chord with the doctor's wife, who burst into hearty laughter, fine lines crinkling at the corners of her eyes: "Haha! Young lady, your thinking is exactly the same as mine when I was young! My father once served as an instructor at the Imperial Medical Academy, and many of the current imperial physicians were his students. But I went and set my heart on our Old Qu, who at the time had failed the medical examination seven years in a row."
Only then did Cuihua and Pei Huaiche understand why Doctor Qu, despite his superb medical skills, held no official rank and simply practiced medicine in the marketplace.
It turned out that the Liang Kingdom's medical examinations tested not only medical skill but also required proficiency in literature and the ability to write policy essays.
Doctor Qu had entered the Imperial Medical Academy at twenty to prepare for the examinations, and had watched, almost helplessly, as his juniors passed one after another, while he himself stumbled for seven years, unable to master that thousand-character essay.
Fortunately, those seven years weren't entirely wasted—at least his handsome appearance had won him the heart of the chief instructor's daughter. It had infuriated the old instructor no end, who kept muttering, "A daughter should marry for talent, not for looks."
Recalling those days, the doctor's wife still wore the same stubborn expression in her eyes: "I don't regret it one bit! I've got a quick temper and a sharp tongue. If I hadn't found a husband whose face alone could calm my anger the moment I looked at him, I'd probably have lived twenty years less!"
Cuihua nodded vigorously in agreement: "Exactly! And my husband has the best temper too. Sometimes I'm the one being unreasonable, throwing a little tantrum, and he never once blames me."
Doctor Qu was still attending to other patients, so Cuihua accepted the melon seeds and roasted snacks the doctor's wife offered and chatted happily with her.
Pei Huaiche sat quietly in his wheelchair the whole time, rarely interjecting unless the doctor's wife addressed him directly. He kept his eyes lowered, meticulously shelling peanuts and melon seeds, and always, just before Cuihua finished her handful and reached for more, gently placed the plump kernels into her palm.
Watching them, the doctor's wife's eyes softened with a gentle smile, as if she saw her own youth reflected in them: "I thought our Old Qu was already the most handsome and attentive man when he was young, but I never expected this young gentleman to be not only better-looking than him, but even more meticulous in doting on his wife."
Cuihua quickly waved her hands and lowered her voice playfully: "Don't praise him so much—if Doctor Qu hears you, he might not be in the mood to treat my husband properly."
Noticing that the doctor's wife, though past fifty, still had slender, delicate fingers, Cuihua knew that Doctor Qu must dote on his wife greatly in daily life, unwilling to let her work too hard.
And from her experience, such considerate husbands, though good to their wives, were usually quite possessive. Ever since that unpleasant incident last time, she hadn't dared mention her brother-in-law in front of Pei Huaiche again.
The doctor's wife didn't deny it, only covering her mouth with a light laugh: "At this age, his jealousy is even worse than when he was young. He doesn't care if the younger generation laughs at him."
Jokes aside, since they were recommended by Steward Di and Cuihua had grown quite close to the physician's wife, Doctor Qu would naturally do his utmost to treat them out of both courtesy and obligation.
But when the physician—who, though nearing sixty, still bore traces of former elegance—placed his fingers on Pei Huaiche's wrist, his expression gradually turned grave.
After a moment of deliberation, Doctor Qu raised his eyes and asked slowly, "Your uncle never mentioned that you had practiced martial arts?"
Pei Huaiche's heart tightened.
He naturally knew that the pulse of a martial artist differed from that of an ordinary person—slower and deeper at rest, and especially the guan and chi positions, which, due to vigorous qi and blood, were exceptionally full and strong. But it had been two full years since his severe injury, and he had never had the conditions to properly recuperate. He had been falling ill on and off the entire time. Any benefits gained from martial training should have long since been worn away. How could traces still be detected?
Almost instinctively, his wrist shifted slightly, as if to withdraw.
Doctor Qu's intention had merely been to better understand the illness in order to prescribe the right medicine. He had not expected such an abrupt reaction and could not help but look at Cuihua with slight surprise. "After his leg injury, does he not bear hearing mention of such past matters?"
To his surprise, Cuihua was also frozen in place, her almond-shaped eyes wide open, staring at Pei Huaiche with shock and confusion. "Ah? Husband… you also practiced martial arts?"