"Enough with the nonsense."
Pei Huaizhen patted the child, his voice cold: "What's the situation?"
Jingzhe: "Your Highness, seven days have passed since you fell off the cliff. The news hasn't reached the capital yet, and all parties remain quiet."
Jingzhe paused, then continued: "However, according to the scouts' report, on the second day after your accident, an urgent confidential letter was delivered to… the Third Prince's residence."
The hand patting the swaddled baby suddenly froze.
Pei Huaizhen lifted his eyelids. Those amorous eyes that were always gentle and smiling when facing Xue Qingqing suddenly turned cold and terrifying.
"That fool," he sneered, "and besides, the old man doesn't have much time left. Who taught him this desperate last-ditch move?"
The old emperor had been repeatedly assassinated in his early years, leaving lasting damage. In recent years, he had indulged in women and recklessly consumed elixirs. Now that his end was approaching, it was no longer an unspeakable taboo.
It was precisely because this good father of his was dying that Pei Huaizhen had lost some restraint in the Battle of Yanmen Pass, revealing his ruthlessness.
He knew well that if he didn't settle the external chaos soon, when the old man finally kicked the bucket and he took the dragon throne, his uncles—who coveted the imperial seat like wolves—would stir up who knows what trouble.
At that point, internal strife plus external enemies would give him plenty of headaches.
So rather than sit and wait for death, it was better to clear out everything that needed clearing while his good father still had a breath left. If the sky fell, there would be taller people to hold it up. At worst, he, the Crown Prince, would earn a less-than-pleasant reputation—nothing more than a scratch. Afterward, he could voluntarily accept punishment, then go along with those old ministers and do a couple of hypocritically virtuous deeds to offset his faults. That would settle it.
Shu had granaries stocked, and the people were prosperous again.
That refugees from the border would flood into Shu was something Pei Huaizhen had anticipated long ago. Entering Shu to pacify the refugees was also part of his plan to stabilize the court.
He just hadn't expected that after all his careful scheming, he would be stabbed in the back by his own full-blooded brother.
Pei Huaizhen almost laughed out loud. The fingertips of his hand, which hadn't held a blade in a while, itched slightly.
Jingzhe remained silent, waiting until the rapid breathing inside the door—quickened by anger—gradually steadied before speaking: "Additionally, I discovered that Prince Qi's spies are also active in Shu."
Prince Qi held the largest fiefdom and the greatest power among all the feudal princes. Ever since Pei Huaizhen proposed reducing the feudal domains at court at the age of thirteen, Prince Qi had regarded him as a thorn in his side. But at that time, Pei Huaizhen was too young, and the matter was brushed off as "childish words." Prince Qi couldn't openly retaliate, so he had secretly kept an eye on Pei Huaizhen for years, constantly watching his movements.
This time, with his assassination and disappearance, aside from his dear third brother who was the mastermind behind it, Prince Qi was the fastest to learn of the news.
Jingzhe: "The Eastern Palace has been harmed—this concerns the foundation of the state. Perhaps Your Highness should return to the capital with me immediately to thoroughly investigate this case and uncover the culprit."
Pei Huaizhen slowly rubbed his thumb against his index finger, as if turning a white jade thumb ring that wasn't there.
After a moment, he spoke in a low voice: "No rush to return to the capital. First, spread the news of my death."
Jingzhe was stunned: "Your Highness doesn't plan to show yourself?"
In his arms, the little tiger seemed startled by the sound and began whimpering as if about to cry.
Pei Huaizhen glanced at Jingzhe, his hand continuing to pat the swaddled baby gently: "Keep your voice down."
Jingzhe nodded.
Pei Huaizhen slowly coaxed the little tiger back to sleep, his voice unconsciously lowering: "I originally planned to make contact with you all and leave this place as soon as possible."
"But now, I've changed my mind."
Pei Huaizhen chuckled: "Rather than watch useless people huddle together, I prefer watching dogs fight dogs."
"Spread the news that Prince Qi assassinated the Crown Prince, gravely wounding him and leaving his whereabouts unknown."
Jingzhe was taken aback, then cupped his fists in acknowledgment: "Understood. I'll see to it immediately."
"And also."
Pei Huaizhen's expression softened slightly as he swept his gaze across the crude room, his eyes landing on the amaranth cornbread that had long gone cold on the table.
The few shabby cornbreads steamed that morning—Xue Qingqing had reheated them twice, stubbornly eating them all day, and kept asking Pei Huaizhen why he wouldn't eat.
One look was enough to kill Pei Huaizhen's appetite.
He felt that in the end, he wouldn't die from his injuries—he'd starve to death first.
His long fingers rose to his brow, and Pei Huaizhen pinched the bridge of his nose: "After you finish the main business, find a way to get me the dishes I like."
…
Half a month passed in the blink of an eye. The weather in Shu was fickle—sometimes drizzling endlessly, sometimes blazing with sunshine.
Taking advantage of a clear day, Xue Qingqing once again hid Pei Huaizhen in the wooden cart, drove the gray donkey, and went to the town's medical clinic.
Pei Huaizhen's injuries had recovered remarkably well. Even the old physician exclaimed in wonder, teasing that he didn't look like a scholar at all—he ought to be a martial artist.
Pei Huaizhen smiled without saying a word.
After getting a few more doses of medicine, as they were about to leave, Xue Qingqing hesitated and spoke to the physician: "Do you have… any medicine that can cure amnesia?"
The old physician: "Amnesia? Who has amnesia?"
Xue Qingqing opened her mouth but stopped.
Pei Huaizhen looked at Xue Qingqing, a hint of depth surfacing in his eyes.
Xue Qingqing turned her face away, avoiding his gaze.
A moment later, the two left the medical clinic.
It was not a market day, so there were few people on the street. Yet Xue Qingqing still deliberately kept her distance from Pei Huaizhen, her head lowered as she walked straight ahead.
Pei Huaizhen's movements were hindered, but his legs were long, and he easily caught up to Xue Qingqing's pace, walking shoulder to shoulder with her.
"Why does Miss Xue dare not look at Shen?"
The young man's gentle voice appeared at her ear, like the willow branches by the riverbank, softly brushing against her skin, stirring an inexplicable itch.
Xue Qingqing's body stiffened, and she instinctively retorted, "I… I'm not afraid to look at you."
After speaking, as if to prove herself, she raised her moist eyes and looked directly at Pei Huaizhen's face, her cheeks flushed red—clearly not from the sun.
Xue Qingqing was a bit embarrassed.
Her words earlier, to put it kindly, were "concern," but in reality, they were no different from showing someone the door.
But she had made up her mind before speaking.
After mulling it over for several days, Xue Qingqing still felt that this Young Master Shen was no ordinary person. Even if he was kind-natured, who knew whether he might bring some disaster?
Taking him in until now, she had already done her utmost. She only hoped he would recover his memory soon and return to where he belonged.
The sun hung high, leaving no subtle expression hidden.
Pei Huaizhen looked at the clear depths of this young widow's eyes, filled with guilt and timidity, feeling as if he were looking at a spring so clear one could see straight to the bottom.
He knew exactly her hesitation and concerns. If he were a gentleman, he would stop while ahead and not make things difficult for her.
But he was the number one scoundrel under heaven.
"Do you really want me to leave that much?"
Pei Huaizhen lowered his voice, his radiant peach-blossom eyes drooping slightly, appearing deeply dejected—even aggrieved.
Xue Qingqing suddenly felt at a loss. Though she was empty-handed and the man before her was so much taller, she felt as though she had become a vicious villain, holding a butcher's knife, wantonly stabbing this helpless, pitiful young man.
"I'm not, I didn't…" Xue Qingqing waved her hands frantically. "I just want you to recover your memory faster, I…"
Pei Huaizhen looked at her with reproachful eyes. "Once I recover my memory, I'll have to leave. Isn't that the same thing? I never expected Miss Xue to be so eager to cast me out."
He let out a light sigh, looking especially hurt, and turned his gaze away, no longer looking at her.
Xue Qingqing grew even more anxious to explain. "That's really not it. I just want you to go somewhere safer. You don't remember anything, hiding in my home—it's not safe after all. Think about it yourself, isn't that so?"
"I've thought about it. I feel very safe." Pei Huaizhen turned his face back, looking into Xue Qingqing's eyes with a serious expression.
Even if Prince Qi's spies dug three feet into the ground, they would never search a widow's home.
There was no place safer than the home of a woman who had just lost her husband.
By her side, he was determined to stay.
Xue Qingqing was left speechless, feeling that under his gaze, she couldn't reason with him at all.
"Forget it, I can't reason with you."
Xue Qingqing muttered, turned her head away, ignoring the man beside her entirely, and hurried toward the donkey, wanting only to get home quickly.
Pei Huaizhen's pace was unhurried, his gaze lingering darkly on the back of Xue Qingqing's round head.
This reaction—it seemed she was angry with him.
Just because she couldn't win an argument?
Suddenly, Pei Huaizhen felt a hint of amusement.
…
After a bumpy journey, they returned to Plum Blossom Village, again at night.
Xue Qingqing led the donkey into the yard, hastily helped Pei Huaizhen down from the cart, and then rushed off to the neighbor auntie's house to pick up her son.
Because Xue Qingqing had specifically reminded the auntie before leaving to pat the baby's back after feeding, Little Tiger hadn't spit up milk today. But he still cried fiercely, especially once back in his mother's arms, his throat nearly hoarse from screaming.
Xue Qingqing was too busy soothing the child to prepare dinner, so she brought out the leftover pickled vegetables and, with some dry, hard cornbread, called it a meal.
Pei Huaizhen glanced at the two unappetizing dishes on the table. While Xue Qingqing went into the inner room to nurse the baby, he quietly picked up the food box at his feet, took out the food from inside, and arranged it on the rough tabletop.
Xue Qingqing finished settling her son and came out of the inner room. Seeing the table laden with delicacies, she exclaimed in surprise, "Where did all this food come from?"
Pei Huaizhen said lightly, "Bought on the road. You were sulking with me at the time and didn't notice."
Xue Qingqing recalled the scene from the day, turned her face away, and said rather awkwardly, "I wasn't sulking with you."
Pei Huaizhen let out a low chuckle and said softly, "Eat up. These things don't keep well. If we don't finish them, they'll go bad by tomorrow."
Only then did Xue Qingqing take her seat. Looking at the table full of exquisite foods whose names she couldn't even say, she felt extremely ill at ease. She looked left and right before picking up a small, white, soft pastry.
Holding this snow-white, flawless cake, she seemed reluctant to take a bite. She hesitated for a long while before lowering her face and taking a gentle bite.
A sweet, refreshing flavor filled her lips and teeth, and Xue Qingqing felt momentarily dazed.
In her previous life as a modern person, her parents were both busy with work and rarely cooked. She ate in the school cafeteria during her school years and ordered takeout when she worked. When under stress, she would either eat food heavy in oil and spice or high in sugar and salt.
In this life as an ancient person, her father didn't dote on her and her mother didn't love her. The most delicious things she had ever eaten since childhood were the wild pheasants and hares that Lu Fang hunted from the mountains.
This kind of clean, delicious flavor was something Xue Qingqing had never tasted in either of her two lives.
Seeing the young widow's dazed and blank expression, Pei Huaizhen unconsciously propped his elbow up, resting his chin on his palm. His peach blossom eyes curved as he tilted his head and asked her, "Do you like it?"
Xue Qingqing snapped back to reality and gave a slight nod.
She savored the light sweetness on the tip of her tongue and asked softly, "What's it called?"
Pei Huaizhen was silent for a moment.
How would he remember the names of foods? That was something for his subordinates to keep track of.
"Sugar White Cake," he made it up on the spot.
It was white anyway.
Xue Qingqing nodded, taking his word for it. Looking at the pastry, a faint glimmer sparkled in her eyes. "If I make it myself in the future, I should be able to save quite a bit of money."
Pei Huaizhen laughed. "No need for such trouble. If you like it, however much you want to eat, I'll buy it for you."
Xue Qingqing's chewing paused for a moment.
Even as careless as she was, she could sense something out of the ordinary.
She suppressed the strange feeling in her heart and quietly ate the pastry, no longer lifting her head, avoiding those peach blossom eyes that could drown a person.
Heaven above, please let it be that she was overthinking things.
The candlelight flickered drowsily, dancing quietly. Wisps of smoke from the burning wick curled and lingered between the two of them.
Pei Huaizhen narrowed his eyes slightly and simply watched Xue Qingqing eat in silence—small bites, one piece of pastry chewed for ages, like a rabbit gnawing on a carrot.
Since he could remember, he had been meeting with officials at palace banquets. When bored, he would observe how people ate.
Those who wolfed down their food were rash, swift and decisive, prone to acting on impulse.
Those who took only a taste were cautious, deeply calculating, prone to developing second thoughts.
Those who chewed slowly and deliberately were steady, unflinching in the face of danger, prone to stubbornness.
Which category did Xue Qingqing belong to? He couldn't quite figure it out.
She didn't fit into any of his past understandings.
Fortunately, she was so pitifully simple that he could see through all her thoughts without lifting a finger—including that bit of vigilance and wariness she had, which he held in contempt.
Pei Huaizhen knew very well that winning a woman's kindness was easy, as long as she was inherently a kind person.
But winning the trust of a kind woman was not easy.
He would have to be good to her, protect her, make her happy, let her grow accustomed to him, depend on him, be unable to leave him, and have eyes only for him.
At his mercy, at his disposal.