Time passed in the blink of an eye, and His Majesty Sixth, Li Chengyu, had been on the throne for sixteen years.
Pei Cijing’s status had risen steadily along with him.
From Left Junior Secretary of the Eastern Palace to Hanlin Academy Lecturer, from local magistrate to Minister of one of the Six Ministries, and from Minister to the chancellor of the entire nation—he had advanced one step at a time, each step steady and sure, never relying on the slightest shortcut.
By now, most people in court had to respectfully address him as “Chancellor Pei.”
Yet not a single person secretly resented the fact that he had risen to such a lofty position at such a young age.
It wasn’t merely that they didn’t dare resent him.
They truly had no reason to.
Leaving aside the fact that he was one of the old retainers who had followed Emperor Sixth since the days of his princely residence, working tirelessly at his side and earning outstanding merit, and leaving aside the fact that when he had been sent out to govern a locality, he had brought order to the region, ensuring that the people lived and worked in peace, that lost items went unclaimed, and that doors could remain unlocked at night—
Just look at the hybrid rice he had developed. With the assistance of irrigation and fertilization, its widespread cultivation had doubled Da Qian’s grain production. In many places, the people had even built shrines to Pei Cijing and Shen Ninghuan.
Shrines built for the living.
That meant people worshiped you as though you were a god while you were still alive.
The first time Pei Cijing heard about it, he had remained silent for a long while. Then he said to Shen Ninghuan, “Wife, I don’t think this is a very auspicious sign.”
Shen Ninghuan gave him a look and said nothing.
But Pei Cijing read a sentence in her eyes:
“Who cares whether it’s auspicious? The people are acting out of genuine gratitude.”
Pei Cijing thought it over.
She had a point.
The people weren’t fools. They knew perfectly well who treated them well.
If you gave them enough to eat, so they no longer had to go hungry or freeze, sell their children, chew tree bark, or eat clay, they would remember your kindness for the rest of their lives.
If they wanted to build a shrine, then let them build one.
To reward him for his achievements, Sixth Son issued an imperial decree, conferring upon Pei Cijing the title of Duke of Yu.
He became the first non-military meritorious official in Da Qian’s history to receive a hereditary dukedom with an actual fief.
The day the imperial decree arrived, Pei Cijing received it in the main hall. His expression was solemn and dignified, but inwardly he couldn’t help muttering to himself.
Duke of Yu.
Yu.
That character felt very much like Sixth Son.
Pei Cijing was somewhat displeased, but there was no room for him to bargain over such a matter.
After accepting the decree and offering his thanks, he placed the document in his study and went on with his day.
Whether he was a duke or not—
Wasn’t life still the same?
His salary was merely a little higher, his residence a little larger, and there were more people bowing to him when he went out. Even the angle at which they bent their backs had grown a little deeper.
That was all.
In the administrative office, the afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows and fell across the piles of memorials on the desk, coating the densely written pages in a warm golden glow.
Pei Cijing sat in his chair, a vermilion brush between his fingers. Before him lay a memorial concerning the repair and restoration of coastal defenses in the southeast. He read it once, then again, before dipping his brush in ink and writing several words at the end:
“Reviewed. Let the Ministry of Revenue release the funds and the Ministry of Works oversee the project.”
When he finished, he set down the brush and leaned back in his chair, letting out a long breath.
Outside the window, the sun had already begun to sink toward the west.
He calculated the time.
The sixth quarter of the hour of Shen.
Pei Cijing’s eyes lit up.
It was time to leave work.
He rose, straightened his robes, gathered the memorials he had reviewed, and handed them to the clerk on duty.
“That’s all for today.” His tone was calm, as though he were stating something utterly ordinary. “We’ll discuss whatever remains tomorrow.”
The clerk accepted the memorials and replied respectfully, “Yes, Chancellor Pei.”
Pei Cijing nodded, picked up the outer robe draped over the back of his chair, and slipped it on before heading outside.
His pace was neither hurried nor slow, yet it carried an unquestionable certainty.
Several young officials were speaking in hushed voices in the corridor outside the office. When they saw Pei Cijing emerge, they immediately fell silent and bowed in unison.
“Chancellor Pei.”
Pei Cijing gave them a slight nod without breaking stride.
Once he had passed, the young officials straightened and watched his composed, unhurried back. One of them sighed softly.
“Chancellor Pei is really… punctual.”
“Of course he is,” another replied. “I’ve worked in the Grand Secretariat for three years. Chancellor Pei leaves at the sixth quarter of Shen every single day, as regular as clockwork. There’s never been an exception.”
“I heard that sometimes His Majesty keeps him behind to discuss state affairs, and he’ll even watch the time before saying, ‘Your Majesty, I should be heading home.’”
“Really? His Majesty doesn’t get angry?”
“Why would he? His Majesty has known Chancellor Pei since the days of the princely residence and is well aware of his temperament. Besides, Chancellor Pei never lets a single task go unfinished. He simply finishes everything early and leaves. Who could say anything against that?”
The few of them discussed the matter for a while before dispersing.
Pei Cijing walked along the palace road, the setting sun stretching his shadow long across the flagstones.
His pace was light and unhurried. From head to toe, he radiated the relaxed air of a man who had finished work and was going home—an air that clearly said, “I’m off the clock. Don’t even think about making me work overtime.”
Everyone in court knew that Chancellor Pei was exceptionally punctual about leaving work. Only His Majesty Sixth could persuade him to stay a little longer.
But only a little.
If it went beyond half an hour, Chancellor Pei would simply say, “Your Majesty, it’s getting late. There are still matters waiting for me at home. I shall take my leave first.”
Sixth Son could do nothing about him.
Neither could all the civil and military officials in court.
The carriage rolled along the main streets, passing through familiar lanes one after another as it headed toward the Duke of Yu’s residence.
Pei Cijing leaned against the carriage wall with his eyes closed, resting.
The wheels rolled over the stone road, producing a deep, rhythmic sound. Again and again, it resembled a lullaby.
He wasn’t asleep.
His mind was occupied with serious matters: what to have for dinner, whether he should spend some time playing with Pei Yanqing afterward, and what intimate things he might say to his wife that evening.
These were all important matters.
Far more important than the bickering, buck-passing, and scheming that filled the imperial court.
The carriage stopped outside the Duke of Yu’s residence.
Pei Cijing jumped down and climbed the steps.
When the gatekeeper saw him, he immediately bowed.
“Master, you’re home.”
Pei Cijing nodded and entered through the gates.
The Duke of Yu’s residence had once belonged to a prince of the previous dynasty. Its layout was grand and its architecture exquisite. After Sixth Son ascended the throne, he bestowed the estate upon Pei Cijing, then allocated funds from the imperial treasury for its renovation and expansion. The entire undertaking took more than half a year before it was finally completed.
At first, Pei Cijing had refused.
But Sixth Son had said, “You’re a duke now. Your residence must match your rank, or the court officials will say I, the emperor, am stingy.”
Pei Cijing had considered this and decided that Sixth Son had a point, so he stopped refusing.
He crossed the front hall and followed the covered corridor toward the inner courtyard.
The setting sun shone in from the west, bathing the entire residence in warm gold. The shadow of the old locust tree in the courtyard stretched long across the stone pavement, resembling an ink-wash painting.
Just as he reached the moon gate leading into the inner courtyard, Pei Cijing suddenly stopped.
Because he had seen a familiar scene.
At the foot of the courtyard wall stood a small figure with his back to Pei Cijing, facing the wall. He stood ramrod straight.
The little boy looked no more than four or five years old. He wore a bright red short jacket, and his hair was tied into a small topknot. Both hands were obediently pressed against the seams of his trousers, and he stood completely motionless.
Pei Yanqing.
After their eldest boy, Pei Yan'an, Pei Cijing and Shen Ninghuan had their second child.
Now, this second little menace was being punished by having to stand facing the wall.
Pei Cijing stood where he was, looking at the second boy’s obedient little figure facing the wall, and the corners of his lips curled up despite himself.
That little rascal.
He was a real handful.
On ordinary days, he was forever climbing onto the roof, chasing chickens and hounding dogs. There was practically nothing he didn’t dare do.
Since he had been punished today, he must have done something naughty and been caught red-handed by his mother.
Pei Cijing walked over. His footsteps were neither heavy nor light, the soles of his boots making a steady sound against the flagstones.
Hearing the approaching footsteps, Pei Yanqing’s little body shifted slightly, but he did not turn around.
Only when Pei Cijing came up behind him and stopped did he slowly—very slowly—turn his head to the side, revealing one round, bright, sparkling eye.
That eye was filled with a plea for help.
“Papa…” Pei Yanqing’s voice was soft and childish, carrying both grievance and supplication. “You’re back…”
Pei Cijing looked down at him.
The little thing looked exactly like Pei Yan’an had when he was young: a round face, big eyes, a tiny nose and little mouth, all fair and tender, like a glutinous rice cake fresh from the steamer.
At that moment, he was gazing up at him with those dewy eyes.
Pitiful as could be.
Like an abandoned puppy.
Pei Cijing bent down and leaned a little closer, lowering his voice as he asked, “What bad thing did you do?”
Pei Yanqing’s gaze darted away. In a small voice, he said, “I… I broke Mother’s vase.”
“Which vase?”
“The one… in the study… the blue-and-white one…”
The corner of Pei Cijing’s mouth twitched.
That vase.
It was one of his Wife’s favorites, a masterpiece from the imperial kilns of the dynasty before last. Although Pei Cijing could not appreciate it himself, according to his Wife, it possessed considerable artistic value and was virtually impossible to buy on the market.
That little rascal really knew how to pick one.
“And then?” Pei Cijing asked.
Pei Yanqing’s voice grew even quieter. “Then… I was afraid Mother would scold me, so I hid the broken pieces under the bed…”
Pei Cijing: “…”
He drew in a deep breath, then slowly let it out.
“So not only did you break your mother’s vase, you also tried to destroy the evidence and conceal what happened?”
Pei Yanqing lowered his head and dared not speak.
Pei Cijing straightened, looking at the second boy’s bowed little head. He sighed inwardly and reached out to gently ruffle Pei Yanqing’s hair.
“Was standing here facing the wall your mother’s punishment?”
Pei Yanqing nodded.
“How long do you have to stand?”
“Half an hour…” Pei Yanqing raised his head and looked at him pitifully. “Papa, I’ve already been standing for so long…”
Pei Cijing looked at him, and the corners of his mouth shifted slightly.
Then he withdrew his hand and stood up straight.
“Then keep standing.”
Pei Yanqing’s eyes widened at once. “Papa—”
Pei Cijing turned and walked away.
Behind him came Pei Yanqing’s soft, desperate voice. “Papa! Aren’t you going to plead for me?”
Pei Cijing did not even turn his head. He merely waved a hand.
“Nothing I can do.”
Inwardly, he added: This second boy really isn’t very clever. He’s this old already, and he still hasn’t figured out who’s in charge of this household?
In this family, his Wife was the eldest, he was the second, and the little menaces came after them.
Whatever his Wife decided, he did not dare overturn it casually.
Besides, breaking a vase and then hiding the pieces truly deserved punishment. It would do the boy good to learn his lesson.
Pei Cijing passed through the moon gate and followed the covered corridor toward the study.
The study door was ajar, and orange-yellow lamplight spilled out from within. It was warm and gentle, like a tender hand softly beckoning him inside.
He pushed open the door and walked in.
Shen Ninghuan was seated before the writing desk.
An account book lay open on the table. Beside it sat a cup of tea, its surface long since gone cold, clearly having been left there for quite some time.
She held a brush in her hand, but was not writing anything. She simply sat there quietly, her gaze resting on the account book while her thoughts were obviously elsewhere.
At the sound of his footsteps, she looked up, and her eyes met Pei Cijing’s.
There was a trace of fatigue in that gaze, a hint of distraction, and also a faint loneliness hidden deep within—so subtle it was almost impossible to detect.
“My husband is back,” she said.
Her voice was as gentle as ever, but beneath that gentleness lay a low, indistinct heaviness.
Pei Cijing walked over and sat down across from her.
“I’m back,” he replied. His eyes settled on his Wife’s face, studying her carefully for a moment.
Her complexion looked fine, and she appeared to be in good health. Yet the light in her eyes was dimmer than usual.
Like a lamp trembling faintly in the wind. Its glow was still there, but it was not quite as bright.
Pei Cijing’s heart tightened.
“Wife,” he began softly, tentatively, “did the second boy make you angry? I’ll go teach him a lesson.”
Shen Ninghuan shook her head.
“No.” She set down her brush and leaned back against the chair. Her gaze lowered slightly, and her voice became quieter. “Yanqing may be a little mischievous, but he’s not a bad boy at heart.”
“Boys are all like that when they’re young.”
Pei Cijing said nothing, waiting for her to continue.
Shen Ninghuan was silent for a moment. Her fingers brushed lightly over the tabletop, as though she were arranging her thoughts—or slowly sorting through the emotions she had kept pressed down for a long time.
“It’s just…” She paused, and her voice dropped even further. “Yan’an has been away on campaign for so long. Who knows when he’ll return?”
Pei Cijing understood at once.
His Wife was missing their eldest boy.
After Sixth Son ascended the throne, Great Qian’s national strength grew increasingly formidable. The northern border tribes had been dealt a crushing defeat and soon settled down. Every year, they sent envoys to pay tribute, never daring to cause trouble again.
But several years earlier, trouble had broken out along the southeastern coast.
A band of Japanese pirates had been sailing swift ships along the coast, burning, killing, and looting in the various prefectures and counties. They came and went like the wind, so quickly that even the government troops could not catch them. The imperial court had sent forces to suppress them several times, but the results had been less than satisfactory.
Whenever the pirates could not win, they fled.
Out to sea.
How were they supposed to find them there?
Only after extensive investigation did they discover the pirates’ lair: the Dongying Archipelago, a scattering of islands across the Eastern Sea.
Could Great Qian possibly tolerate that?
Of course not.
Thus, at Pei Cijing’s suggestion, the imperial court launched this expedition, with the aim of wiping out the pirates completely, incorporating the Dongying Archipelago into Great Qian’s territory, and eliminating the threat once and for all.
Pei Yan’an, who was in the prime of his youth and brimming with vigor, showed tremendous interest in the campaign against the pirates. When he heard that the imperial court was preparing an expedition, he volunteered to join the army.
Pei Cijing and Shen Ninghuan could not talk him out of it. In the end, they had no choice but to let him go.
There was no need to worry about his safety.
That boy had been put through the wringer by Pei Cijing ever since he was little. Starting at the age of three, Pei Cijing had pinned him to the ground and thoroughly beaten him—over and over—for more than a decade. As a result, Pei Yan’an’s martial foundation was exceptionally solid.
Pei Cijing estimated that Pei Yan’an now possessed roughly eighty percent of his own strength.
Eighty percent.
In an era without firearms, that was already enough to let him dominate wherever he went.
What was more, he had prepared life-saving treasures for Pei Yan’an, all exchanged from the system shop. They had cost him a great many gossip points.
A safe return should not have been a problem. Still, it had been more than a year since he had set out for war, and naturally, his Wife could not help worrying about him.
Shen Ninghuan reached out and took Pei Cijing’s hand.
“I’ve been dreaming a lot these past few days.” Her voice was soft, as if she were speaking of a private worry she did not want anyone else to hear. “I dreamed of Yan’an as a child, running around the courtyard, his head drenched in sweat, refusing to stop no matter how many times we called him.”
She paused, the corners of her lips lifting slightly, though there was a hint of bitterness in her smile.
“In the blink of an eye, he’s grown so much. He can even go into battle and slay enemies now.”
Pei Cijing turned his hand over and clasped hers tightly, saying nothing.
He knew his Wife was not the sort of woman who burst into tears at the slightest thing. But no matter how strong a mother was, she would still worry when her son traveled far from home. It had nothing to do with whether she was strong or not—it was simply human nature.
After a moment of silence, he suddenly smiled.
“Wife, guess what I received today?”
Shen Ninghuan blinked and raised her head to look at him.
Pei Cijing pulled a folded document from his sleeve and handed it to her. “This is the battle report the Ministry of War sent today. I copied out a duplicate for you. Have a look.”
Shen Ninghuan accepted the document and unfolded it.
Her eyes swept from top to bottom. The faster she read, the brighter her eyes became.
Sitting across from her, Pei Cijing watched the changes in his Wife’s expression, the corners of his mouth slowly curling upward.
“The islands of Yingdong have all been taken. The pirates’ stronghold has been uprooted, and the remaining forces have collapsed completely. They no longer possess the strength to fight back.”
He paused, his voice carrying a hint of laughter.
“Yan’an served under Pei Ciling and earned quite a number of military merits. According to the report, that boy charged into battle with extraordinary courage. Several times, he led the assault himself, slaughtering the pirates until not a single one was left standing.”
Shen Ninghuan’s gaze fell on the final line of the report, and her fingers trembled slightly.
“He is expected to return to the capital with the army shortly.”
Watching the light gradually return to his Wife’s eyes, Pei Cijing finally felt the stone weighing on his heart fall away.
“So,” he said, placing his hand over the back of hers, “Wife, you needn’t worry so much. Yan’an is safe and well. He’ll be back in a few days.”
Shen Ninghuan said nothing.
She merely lowered her head and looked at the battle report—that cold, stiff, official document devoid of any emotion.
But to her, those words were no longer merely words.
They were her son.
The son she had carried for ten months, brought into the world, and raised through endless hardship.
The son who appeared in her dreams at night, and whose absence left her heart feeling hollow whenever she thought of him during the day.
Shen Ninghuan drew a deep breath, folded the report neatly, and closed her hand around it. Then she lifted her head to look at Pei Cijing, the corners of her lips slowly curving upward.
“That’s good.”
Just a few words.
Light as a feather landing on the surface of the water.
Yet the weight contained in those two words was as heavy as Mount Tai itself.
Looking at his Wife, who was clearly delighted but insisted on pretending to be calm and indifferent, Pei Cijing suddenly felt a powerful urge to pull her into his arms.
He rose, walked around the long table, and sat down beside her. Then he slipped an arm around her and drew her into his embrace.
Shen Ninghuan did not resist. She simply leaned quietly against his shoulder and closed her eyes.
Outside the window, dusk had completely deepened into night.
One by one, the lanterns in the courtyard lit up. Their orange-red halos swayed gently in the evening breeze, like countless tender eyes watching over everything taking place within the residence.
Holding his Wife in his arms, Pei Cijing rested his chin against the crown of her head and breathed in her familiar, faint fragrance of orchids. His heart was as tranquil as a still pond.
“Wife,” he said softly, “now that Yan’an is coming back, it’s time we started looking for a bride for him.”
Leaning against his shoulder, Shen Ninghuan gave a quiet hum of agreement.
“What do you have in mind?” Pei Cijing asked.
Shen Ninghuan was silent for a moment before giving him an answer that left him both exasperated and amused.
“Let him decide.”
Pei Cijing: “……”
He tightened his arms around his Wife and said nothing more.
The night breeze slipped in through the crack in the window, carrying the clean fragrance of the old locust tree in the courtyard and the faint chirping of insects from somewhere in the distance.
The lamplight in the study burned quietly, casting the intertwined shadows of the couple onto the wall. One large and one small, they rested together in silence, like a picture that would never fade.
Pei Cijing lowered his head and placed a gentle kiss on Shen Ninghuan’s forehead.
“Wife.”
“Hmm?”
“When Yan’an comes home, the whole family should sit down and have a proper reunion dinner.”
Leaning against his shoulder, Shen Ninghuan’s lips slowly curved into a smile.
“All right.”
Outside, the night grew deeper.
Inside, warmth filled the room.
Outside the room—
Pei Yanqing: “……”
Did some people perhaps forget something!!!
