Night fell, the crescent moon hung in the distant sky, and countless stars spread across the heavens like a magnificent tapestry.
In the Yun family’s garden, Yun Shuyue, draped in a lotus‑pink brocade cloak, walked with her mother across the covered bridge over the lotus pond, arriving at the pavilion in the center. From morning until night, this was the first time mother and daughter could speak privately.
The spring evening breeze carried a slight chill. Miao Yuhua touched her daughter’s cool hand: “Are you cold? If you are, let’s go back inside to talk.”
Yun Shuyue laid out two cushions she had prepared on the stone bench: “Mother, I’m not cold.”
Without the brightness of candles, Miao Yuhua could only see her daughter by the faint light of night. In the past, Yun Shuyue’s temperament had been as cold and fragile as the evening itself. But today, her tone, her spirit, even her complexion—all were vastly different, full of vitality.
Naturally, Miao Yuhua attributed this change to her new son‑in‑law. With only the two of them present, she spoke openly: “Yue’er, how has Chengyuan treated you? Since the wedding, have you felt unwell in any way?”
Yun Shuyue answered calmly: “He treats me quite well. He’s just busy with official duties.”
Miao Yuhua understood. After all, he was the Prime Minister; heavy responsibilities were inevitable. Lowering her voice, she added: “Yue’er, I’ve already asked Doctor Li from the east of the city to come tomorrow and take your pulse.”
Her urgency was clear. On one hand, she wanted the physician to check her daughter’s health—Yun Shuyue had always been frail, and now that she had left home, any minor ailment could worsen. A few prescriptions of nourishing medicine might help her recover.
On the other hand, the doctor could also determine whether she was currently fit to conceive.
This had always been Miao Yuhua’s deepest worry. Her daughter was now married and bearing children was inevitable. But Yue’er was not like ordinary women—she feared her daughter might not withstand the risk. After all, for a woman, childbirth was like walking through the gates of death.
Yun Shuyue refused without hesitation: “No need, Mother. I’m fine now. It’s you who must take care of your health once I’m no longer at home.”
Though her body was still somewhat frail, she believed that with steady exercise she would grow stronger.
They chatted further about the different branches of the Yun family, until Shuyue remembered Yun Ruoning: “Mother, I heard Second Aunt plans to marry Second Sister to Assistant Minister of Justice, Feng Shiting?”
Miao Yuhua was surprised: “You’ve heard of this? In the past, you never paid attention to such matters. Yes, since you married Chengyuan, your second aunt has been asking around. Most officials of marriageable age hold low positions, but the Assistant Minister is at least respectable. Still, he’s already twenty‑eight.”
Yun Shuyue’s almond eyes widened: “That’s thirteen years older than Second Sister! What is Aunt thinking?”
Miao Yuhua agreed it was absurd, but since it was the second branch’s private matter, she couldn’t interfere: “Yes, he is older. But he’s been busy and hasn’t taken a wife. If it happens, Ruoning would at least be a principal wife.”
Yun Shuyue frowned: “True, he hasn’t married—but he already has three concubines. With Second Sister’s temperament, if she marries him, she’ll surely suffer.”
Miao Yuhua sighed: “Who doesn’t see that? But your second aunt is set on this match. We can’t say much.”
At that moment, Chun Liu arrived, interrupting their talk: “Madam, Panyue Garden has been tidied up.”
Yun Shuyue responded softly: “Mm. Has the Lord gone over yet?”
Chun Liu shook her head: “Not yet. After dinner, Master pulled the lord back into the study to play chess again.”
Miao Yuhua glanced at the sky and complained: “See? It’s already this late, and your father is still keeping Chengyuan at chess. Come, let’s go together to fetch them—it’s time they rested.”
As her mother rose, Yun Shuyue instinctively reached out to stop her: “Mother, why hurry? I haven’t talked enough with you yet.”
Her hand was icy cold. Miao Yuhua’s face tightened instantly. She bent down, clasping both of Yun Shuyue’s hands: “Oh dear, your hands are freezing. Come back inside with me at once.”
But Yun Shuyue refused, pouting playfully: “Mother, tonight I want to sleep with you.”
Miao Yuhua was taken aback, then laughed, pinching her daughter’s cheek: “You—acting more childishly than before. You’re already a married woman. Do you still want your mother to coax you to sleep?”
Yun Shuyue clung to her arm: “Please, Mother… won’t you?”
Miao Yuhua almost agreed, but then reconsidered. After all, her daughter and son‑in‑law had just married—this was supposed to be their tender, intimate time. Yun Shuyue might not care, but she had to think of Jiang Chengyuan. So she deflected: “All right, we’ll talk about it later.”
Mother and daughter entered the study, where Yun Hongyi was speaking enthusiastically: “Chengyuan, you’ve improved quickly! Out of five games, you only lost two. With more practice, you’ll progress even further.”
Jiang Chengyuan replied modestly: “It’s all thanks to Father‑in‑law’s guidance.”
At that moment, Miao Yuhua pushed open the door and scolded her husband: “Old man, today is our daughter and son‑in‑law’s return‑home day. Yet most of the time, you’ve kept him here playing chess. No one else has had a chance to talk with him. And look at the hour—it’s time to rest.”
Yun Hongyi glanced at the water clock. Indeed, it was late. Looking at his daughter and son‑in‑law, he nodded knowingly: “Yes, it’s late. We’ll continue tomorrow.”
After speaking, Yun Hongyi rose, intending to send his wife and daughter back to their rooms. But Yun Shuyue clung to her mother’s sleeve: “Father, tonight I want to sleep with Mother. I have so much I want to tell her!”
Yun Hongyi’s smile froze: “That won’t do. A married woman must act like one. Do you still expect your mother to coax you to sleep like when you were a child?”
Yun Shuyue pleaded: “I rarely get to come home. I just want to talk with Mother.”
She turned her eyes toward Jiang Chengyuan, silently asking for support. Before her gaze reached him, he had indeed intended to speak on her behalf. But at that moment, he suddenly chose not to.
His silence made Miao Yuhua believe he was unwilling to sleep apart from her daughter. A small spark of satisfaction rose in her heart. She echoed her husband’s words: “It’s late. Whatever you want to say, you can say tomorrow. Be good, Yue’er—go back to Panyue Garden with Chengyuan.”
Without waiting for further protest, she pulled her sleeve free, gave her daughter a meaningful look, and left with her husband.
The study grew so quiet that one could hear each other’s breathing. A flicker of doubt stirred in Yun Shuyue’s mind. In the original story, on the very day of the return‑home visit, Jiang Chengyuan had gone back to the Prime Minister’s residence. She had never considered what would happen afterward.
But now—why had the plot veered off course?