It was not until the next day.
The sky was just beginning to brighten.
Morning light scattered down through the clouds, coating the entire imperial city in a layer of pale gold.
That light should have been warm.
But falling upon those who had not slept all night, it only made them look even more exhausted.
Their faces were deathly pale, their eye sockets bruised with dark circles, and their lips chapped. Their robes were crumpled into a mess, some even stained with blood, looking as wretched as if they had just crawled out of a battlefield.
The palace gates finally opened.
Those who were meant to be released could finally go home.
The crowd reacted as if granted a general amnesty, hurrying outward with eager steps, wishing they could immediately flee this place that had turned into a slaughterhouse overnight.
Outside the palace gates.
Pei Cijing and his group gathered together once again.
In the faint morning light, the upturned eaves of the imperial city were gilded with pale gold. In the distance, early-rising birds hopped among the branches, chirping merrily, as if the bloody carnage of the previous night had been nothing but a nightmare.
Marquis Weiyuan, Pei Fucheng, stood at the very front.
The original color of the dark brocade robe he wore was no longer discernible.
It was heavily bloodstained; some patches had already dried into a dark brown, looking like dirty smudges, while others were still a fresh, vibrant red, gleaming with moisture in the morning light.
Those bloodstains belonged to both himself and others.
His face also bore several small cuts left by the grazing edge of a blade. They had formed thin scabs, looking like dark red centipedes resting on his cheeks.
After a night of fierce fighting, his strength had long been exhausted. Yet, standing outside the palace gates at this moment, his back remained perfectly straight, without the slightest hint of slacking.
That resilience was an instinct brought back from the battlefield.
No matter how tired he was!
He could not collapse in front of others.
The Old Madam walked over slowly from behind.
She leaned on her red sandalwood cane, her steps steady and her expression as composed as usual. Her dark green beizi remained tidy, and her hair bun was not out of place by a single strand. Only the faint traces of dark red remaining at the bottom of her cane silently told the tale of what had happened last night.
That dark red had dried and seeped into the grain of the wood; it likely could not be wiped away.
Seeing the Old Madam, Pei Fucheng's tightly drawn face finally showed a hint of relief. He quickly took a few strides forward, bowing respectfully to greet her, Mother! Are you alright?
His voice carried a bit of urgency.
A bit of worry.
And a sense of immense relief at finally seeing his mother.
Last night, while he was fighting in the Hanyuan Hall, a heavy stone had hung in his heart—how were things over at the Huaqing Pavilion? Was his mother safe? Had anything happened to her?
He had thought about these questions all night but was unable to split himself in two to check on her.
Now, seeing his mother walk out safe and sound, the heart that had been suspended all night finally settled.
The Old Madam looked at him.
Her gaze swept over his bloodstained wounds one by one, especially the gash on his shoulder that looked like a sword strike; it had torn his clothes, revealing rolled, exposed flesh. The cut on his arm, resembling a long slash from a sword, had already scabbed over. The few cuts on his face, though not deep, were still a shocking sight.
A flash of heartache crossed her eyes, but her face remained impassive.
I am fine, she spoke, her voice as steady as if she were commenting on the fine weather today. There were no major issues on my end. Although the Huaqing Pavilion was also attacked by rebels, the Empress had made proper arrangements, so no great chaos ensued.
She paused, shifting her gaze from Pei Fucheng to the wounds across his body.
You, on the other hand, with all these injuries... make sure to treat them properly once we return, lest they leave behind any lingering ailments.
Pei Fucheng nodded repeatedly, his gaze moving to look behind the Old Madam.
Shen Ninghuan was following by the Old Madam's side. Her pale lotus-colored beizi was still neat, and though her hair bun was slightly loose, her hairpins and ornaments were still properly in place. Her face was slightly pale, but there was no sign of panic. She merely stood there quietly, like an orchid that remained standing tall after enduring a storm.
Pei Fucheng looked at her and secretly nodded in approval.
This child.
She was quite composed.
Given the grave danger of last night, for a young daughter-in-law to follow his mother in the Huaqing Pavilion and come out completely unscathed was already a stroke of great fortune; to remain so calm and collected was even rarer.
Just as he was thinking this, he saw Pei Cijing approach Shen Ninghuan's side.
The boy's dark blue brocade robe was completely clean, without a single speck of blood, and even had fewer wrinkles than the clothes of others. His face bore a perfectly measured look of exhaustion and bewilderment, as if he had merely been frightened all night and had experienced nothing else.
Pei Fucheng gave him a glance but said nothing.
This boy!
He was nowhere to be found all of last night.
Only after everything had settled down was he discovered hiding in a corner, miraculously unharmed. Considering how brutal the fighting in the Hanyuan Hall had been last night, the boy certainly had quite a bit of luck on his side.
The Old Madam's gaze also swept over Pei Cijing.
Her look was very faint.
It was just a casual glance, as if merely confirming whether he was alright.
Yet, hidden within that glance was a profound meaning not easily noticed by others.
Perfectly clean.
Spotless.
With such fierce fighting in the front hall, even her eldest son was covered in blood, yet he managed to remain completely unharmed, his robes so pristine?
The man in black at the Huaqing Pavilion last night...
His figure.
It seemed somewhat similar to Cijing's.
And the swiftness of his strikes, his elusive movements...
The Old Madam lowered her eyes, concealing the sharp gleam that flashed in them. But she did not say much, merely giving a slight nod, and spoke in a calm tone, As long as everyone is safe.
Her gaze swept over everyone present—Pei Fucheng, Pei Cijing, and Shen Ninghuan.
Her tone.
Suddenly grew a bit heavier.
Regarding today's events, once we return to the manor, you must keep your lips strictly sealed. The higher-ups have not yet reached a final conclusion, and absolutely no rumors or gossip must spread from our Marquis's household. Have you all memorized this?
These words were spoken clearly.
Her voice was not loud, but it carried the unique authority of someone who had long held a high position, pressing down heavily on everyone's heart like a stone.
The matter of a palace coup involved far too much.
The Crown Prince's rebellion, the struggle for the throne—the intricate twists and turns within it were not something subjects like them could discuss, even if they had witnessed it with their own eyes.
Whatever the higher-ups said, they would listen.
Whatever the higher-ups did not say, they would pretend they hadn't seen.
If anyone spoke out of turn and spread words that shouldn't be spread, at best they would bring disaster upon themselves, and at worst, implicate their entire clan.
There were no fools present; everyone knew this logic perfectly well in their hearts.
Pei Fucheng was the first to cup his hands in a salute, his voice solemn. Rest assured, Mother, your son understands. Upon returning to the manor today, I will certainly discipline the household and absolutely not let half a word of idle gossip slip out.
Pei Cijing and Shen Ninghuan also replied in unison, Your grandson and granddaughter-in-law will strictly remember Grandmother's teachings.
The Old Madam looked at their demeanors and secretly nodded.
Indeed, speaking with intelligent people was effortless. There was no need to say too much or explain too much; a mere hint was enough for them to grasp the deeper meaning.
In this Marquis's household.
Fortunately, there were still a few sensible people.
She said no more and merely waved her hand. It is good that you understand. Let us go, back to the manor. Cheng'er's injuries need to be treated early, we must not delay.
She looked at Pei Cijing and Shen Ninghuan, her gaze softening a bit, her tone carrying the unique gentleness of an elder: "Cijing, Huan'er, I originally brought you along to broaden your horizons, but to my surprise, you ended up being frightened instead. Go back and rest well, and don't overthink it. You don't need to worry about anything for the next few days; focusing on recovering your health is what's important."
Pei Cijing cupped his hands, his attitude respectful and obedient: "Thank you for your care, Grandmother."
Shen Ninghuan also gave a slight curtsy.
Old Madam nodded and said no more. Leaning on her walking stick, she took the lead and walked toward the carriage.
The stick tapped against the bluestone slabs, making soft, rhythmic thuds.
One tap after another.
Steady and powerful.
Pei Fucheng quickly followed, personally supporting Old Madam into the carriage.
The group boarded their carriages. The rumbling wheels rolled over the bluestone roads, gradually departing from the imperial city where the political climate had changed overnight.
...
Weiyuan Marquis Manor.
Anle Residence.
As soon as Pei Cijing and Shen Ninghuan entered the door, they saw Yuanbao waiting with a nervous look on his face.
They had not returned all night.
It was certain that an unexpected incident had occurred.
Yuanbao was deeply worried. Seeing his young master return, he hurriedly went to greet him. Before the words in his mouth could come out, Pei Cijing shoved something into his hands.
It was a small white porcelain bottle, heavy to the touch, and still carrying a bit of warmth.
"Take this to Eldest Uncle," Pei Cijing said. His tone was casual, yet it carried an unquestionable authority. "Tell him it's a top-tier wound medicine I'm offering out of filial respect. This medicine works exceptionally well, a hundred times better than what you can buy outside. He needs to apply it immediately; tell him not to let the wound fester."
Yuanbao looked down at the porcelain bottle in his hand and froze for a moment before snapping back to reality. He nodded repeatedly: "Yes! This servant will go right away!"
After saying that, he ran off like a wisp of smoke.
Pei Cijing turned around and spoke to the maid waiting under the corridor: "Go to the kitchen and tell them they don't need to make any complicated dishes. Just quickly cook two bowls of plain noodles and bring them over to line our stomachs."
"Be quick, we are starving!"
The maid acknowledged the order and left.
Only then did Pei Cijing let out a long breath. He plopped down onto a chair, leaning limply against the backrest as if all his bones had been removed.
"I'm starving to death..."
He muttered, his voice carrying a bit of grievance and the laziness of someone who could finally relax.
He had kept his stomach empty all day, just waiting to have a good meal at the evening palace banquet.
And the result?
Before all the dishes were even served, the Crown Prince started causing trouble.
Dancers turned into assassins, eunuchs turned into killers. A perfectly good imperial feast was all spilled on the ground to feed the cracks between the bricks.
Not only did he get nothing to eat, but he had also been running around all night. Between killing enemies and saving people, his physical exertion was massive. Right now, his stomach was touching his back from hunger, and he felt like he could eat a whole pig in three bites.
Shen Ninghuan watched him in this state.
She could not help but curve the corners of her lips.
The smile rippled from the bottom of her eyes, a few degrees warmer than the sunlight outside the window.
She sat down in the chair next to him and did not say much, simply keeping him company quietly.
The room quieted down. Only the occasional chirping of birds outside the window added a bit of vitality to the room.
Before long.
The maid came in carrying a tray.
On the tray were two bowls of plain noodles, steaming hot. The soup was clear and the noodles were white, sprinkled with finely chopped green onions, topped with a poached egg, and drizzled with a couple of drops of sesame oil.
The aroma drilled straight into their noses, making their appetites surge.
Pei Cijing's eyes lit up.
He took the bowl and, disregarding any image, picked up his chopsticks and began to eat in large mouthfuls.
His way of eating could truly be described as a whirlwind sweeping away the clouds.
A bowl of noodles reached the bottom in just a moment. He even drank the soup clean before putting down the bowl, letting out a long sigh of relief, and showing a satisfied expression on his face.
Then, he rested his chin on his hand and watched Shen Ninghuan eat.
Shen Ninghuan ate unhurriedly, her movements elegant, as if she had not just returned home after a night of shocking changes, but was having a normal snack on an ordinary afternoon.
She picked up a chopstick full of noodles, blew on them gently, put them into her mouth, chewed carefully, and then swallowed.
Every single movement.
All exuded the demeanor of an aristocratic lady, pleasing to the eye.
Pei Cijing just rested his chin on his hand and watched her, the corners of his mouth curling up unconsciously.
My wife looks so beautiful when she eats.
Shen Ninghuan noticed his gaze, raised her eyes to glance at him, and curled her lips slightly. However, she did not say anything and continued to lower her head to eat her noodles.
After she finished eating.
Only then did Pei Cijing order the maids to clear the bowls and chopsticks.
"My wife and I are going to rest for a while," he said, his tone casual, betraying no abnormality. "Unless there is an urgent matter, do not come over to disturb us."
The maids acknowledged the order and withdrew, the door gently closing behind them.
Inside the room, finally, only the two of them were left.
The hint of idleness on Pei Cijing's face gradually faded away.
He turned around and looked at Shen Ninghuan, his gaze turning a bit more serious. His eyes, which usually carried a bit of laziness, were exceptionally clear at this moment.
"My wife," he spoke softly, keeping his voice very low. "What do you think about the matter at the palace banquet?"
Shen Ninghuan was slightly startled.
She looked at him, looking into his serious eyes, and her heart stirred slightly.
Last night she was at Huaqing Garden, staying there from beginning to end. The rebel army attacked the gates, Old Madam killed three people in succession, and a mysterious man in black (her husband) stepped in to save them—all she saw were the events that occurred at Huaqing Garden.
But regarding the matters at Hanyuan Hall, she truly did not know much.
She only knew that the Crown Prince had rebelled, the palace coup had failed, and the Crown Prince had been executed.
As for the specific process, the details within, and the surging undercurrents behind the flashing swords and shadows of blades, she had not witnessed them with her own eyes, so naturally she had no way of knowing.
She walked up to Pei Cijing.
She held his hand.
His hand had distinct knuckles, warm and powerful, but at this moment it tightened slightly, as if holding onto something important.
"Husband, what is it?" she asked gently, her gaze clear and focused. "Is something wrong?"
Pei Cijing looked at her and remained silent for a moment. Then, he pulled her to sit down on the couch by the window, lowered his voice, and slowly spoke—
"At first, I also thought that yesterday's event was simply because the Crown Prince had been in his position for too long and could not hold back anymore, so he chose to launch a palace coup during the banquet."
Then his brows furrowed slightly.
"But looking back on it now and thinking it over carefully, something doesn't feel right..."
