For a moment, silence fell over the courtyard.
The quiet came abruptly, like a sudden halt of wind, drawing away every sound and leaving only the faint creaking of the lanterns swaying gently beneath the eaves in the night breeze.
Pei Cijing's words, "a double blessing," were spoken lightly, yet each person present interpreted them in a distinctly different way.
Madam Zhou understood at once. Her gaze moved from Shen Ningyue's hand covering her mouth, to her slightly pale face, then to her still slender waist, and finally settled on the posture she had assumed when she bent over retching moments ago.
She was a woman of experience.
What more was there to understand?
Madam Zhou's mouth twitched. She subconsciously turned her head to glance at Pei Fugui beside her. He too had caught on, his round face still carrying a smile, but he tugged gently at his wife's sleeve and shook his head slightly.
The meaning was clear enough—
Don't get involved. Don't say a word.
This matter belonged to the eldest branch.
How they handled it from here was their concern.
Madam Zhou took the hint, lowering her eyes to stare at the tips of her shoes.
As for the eldest branch, the atmosphere had grown visibly stagnant.
The smile on Madam Li's face froze the moment she recognized Shen Ningyue's symptoms. It was not the stiff expression of someone doused in cold water, but something more complicated—a stifled discomfort, as if she had swallowed a fly and could not spit it out.
Her gaze fell on Shen Ningyue.
This concubine, born of a secondary wife, was now bent over, covering her mouth, her face faintly pale. To an outsider, the sight might have evoked pity—after all, she carried Pei family blood.
But in Madam Li's heart, it was like knocking over a cruet of five spices—sour, sweet, bitter, spicy, salty—all churning together, an indescribable mixture.
Good news?
No.
For the eldest branch, this was hardly good news at all!
Pei Ciling's marriage had already been a thorn in her side. That scandal had been suppressed, and both families merely explained it to outsiders as "a twist of fate, a swap of engagements." But walls had ears, and discerning eyes in the capital kept their own hidden accounts.
Over these past days, she had exhausted herself trying to find a suitable primary wife for her son.
She had truly worn her heart out.
She had sent intermediaries to families of equal standing, prepared generous gifts, personally called upon them, and said every sweet word imaginable. Yet those ladies, polite on the surface, would murmur, "The Heir is a man of exceptional talent," and then fall silent, with no follow-up.
The matchmakers she dispatched returned with their reports.
Their phrasing was tactful.
But She understood the meaning—they looked down on it.
Not on Pei Ciling's character or appearance, but on this entire muddled affair. The Heir of the esteemed Weiyuan Marquis Manor, the future Marquis himself, and this is how his engagement had turned out? Which family, cherishing their daughter, would willingly marry her into such a household?
Madam Li refused to give up.
She broadened her conditions.
Even a family of lower standing was acceptable, as long as the girl had good character and a clean background. A marriage beneath their station was better than no marriage at all.
Yet even so, few responded.
A few families were tempted, for the status of a marquis manor was no small thing. But after sending someone to inquire, they went silent, and she needed no more explanation—the outcome was likely unfavorable.
The conditions would probably have to be lowered even further.
Madam Li had already been worried, watching the standards for Pei Ciling's match drop lower and lower. And now, to make matters worse, Shen Ningyue was pregnant. Whether the child was a boy or a girl, Pei Ciling's prospects for marriage had become even harder.
If it were a boy, he would be the Heir's eldest son and the future eldest son of the Marquis. Before the primary wife had even entered the household, a eldest son had already been born. Which family would be willing to marry their daughter into that—becoming a stepmother before she was even a mother? If it were a girl, it would be slightly better, but not by much. A eldest daughter, claiming the position of "eldest," did not sound pleasant either.
Madam Li sighed inwardly, the stifling feeling rising uncontrollably.
What kind of mess was this!
Pei Fucheng stood nearby, his expression motionless.
His gaze swept over Shen Ningyue, paused briefly on Pei Ciling's face, then shifted away. His square, upright countenance betrayed no emotion.
He said nothing.
He simply stood there, like a silent mountain.
Shen Ningyue remained bent over, her hand still covering her mouth. She could feel the weight of everyone's gaze upon her. Those looks held surprise, understanding, complexity, and a few that pierced her like needles.
She did not look up, and dared not lift her head.
The churning in her stomach had gradually subsided, but her heart felt as if it were being gripped, tightening more and more until she could scarcely breathe.
Pregnant.
She was pregnant.
Once, she had believed that bearing Pei Ciling's child was her only chance to turn things around.
More than once, she had fantasized about this scene—she, carrying the Heir's child, rising in status through her offspring, elevated to secondary wife, or even primary wife. At that point, she could hold her head high, crush Shen Ninghuan underfoot, and reclaim everything she had lost in her previous life.
Those fantasies.
Had sustained her through countless sleepless nights.
But later, as the days dragged on, her belly remained still.
Pei Ciling was busy with official duties, leaving at dawn before the sky was fully light and returning late at night. The intimacy between them was scarce, barely once or twice a month.
At first, she thought it was merely bad luck.
Later, she gradually realized.
Pei Ciling seemed to be deliberately avoiding something.
He only approached her in the days after her monthly cycle ended. At other times, even when she moved closer, he would gently push her away, say "I'm tired," and turn over to sleep.
At first, she did not understand. Later, she pieced it together.
He was controlling it.
He did not want children.
Or rather, he did not want her to conceive at this time.
So she stopped hoping, stopped scheming, and even stopped thinking about "rising through a child." She simply lived day by day, like a forgotten weed in a corner, without sunlight or rain, clinging numbly and stubbornly to life.
And now, she was pregnant.
Counting the days, it must have been from last month, the one time Pei Ciling had been with her. Her period had just ended, a time that made conception unlikely, but—against all odds—she had conceived.
Shen Ningyue could not clearly articulate what she felt at that moment.
If it had been before, she might have been overjoyed—pregnant! She was finally pregnant! This was her ticket to a comeback, her only chip to climb to the position of Madam of the Marquis Manor!
She would have guarded this child carefully, used every means to keep it safe, and made it her stepping stone to high status.
But now, she had only one thought.
It was not about the ethereal future.
Rather, it was this child—could she protect it? Not in terms of her physical ability to carry it, but whether the marquis manor would allow this child to be born alive.
Her eyes involuntarily drifted to Madam Li's face.
Madam Li was watching her, and the complexity in her gaze was something she could read—disgust, frustration, helplessness, and a faint, chilling coldness that sent a shiver down Shen Ningyue's spine.
Shen Ningyue trembled, lowered her head, and clenched the fabric of her robe tightly.
Pei Cijing stood to the side, taking in the entire scene.
His earlier remark about "a double blessing"
had been intended as a peacemaking gesture.
Shen Ningyue was retching violently in front of him, and the scene had become rather awkward. On such a joyous day for himself, he didn't want things to get too ugly.
He offered his congratulations, hoping to let the matter pass.
But what he hadn't expected was that the moment he said "Congratulations," the atmosphere in the main branch's quarters would become so tense. He understood quickly, though.
He had put his foot in it!
Pregnancy in an ordinary household was naturally a great cause for celebration—adding a new member, continuing the family line, bringing joy to the entire clan. But in the main branch, and especially for Pei Ciling, it was a hot potato. With no legitimate wife yet and a concubine's child arriving first, the difficulty of securing a proper marriage for him would immediately double.
Pei Cijing scratched his head.
He had only meant to smooth things over. He never imagined that his "congratulations" would put the main branch on the hot seat. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something to salvage the situation, but for a moment, he couldn't think of what to say.
Just as he was hesitating, a soft, warm hand gently grasped his fingers.
It was Shen Ninghuan.
She had come to his side without him noticing. Her expression was calm, and there was even a faint smile at the corners of her lips.
She squeezed his hand lightly, as if to say, Don't worry—I'll handle this.
Then she let go, stepped forward, and turned to the Old Madam. Her voice was gentle but clear: "Grandmother, it's getting late. Let's not keep standing at the doorway. The feast will get cold if we don't eat soon. Whatever needs to be said, we can talk about it inside once we're seated."
She paused briefly, her gaze passing over Shen Ningyue without lingering, merely glancing at her before looking away.
"Today is my husband's day of celebration. Everyone has waited so long and must be hungry. Let's eat first and discuss anything else afterward. Does that sound agreeable, Grandmother?"
Her words were flawless.
She neither brought up Shen Ningyue's pregnancy nor deliberately avoided it. With a simple "anything else," she shifted everyone's attention away from that awkward topic and onto something as ordinary as eating.
This preserved the main branch's dignity, saved Shen Ningyue from further embarrassment, and gave everyone an easy way out. Pei Cijing silently applauded his wife in his heart.
His wife really knew how to speak!
He still had a lot to learn!
He quickly chimed in, putting on a deliberately playful tone: "Ninghuan is right, Grandmother. I'm starving! I've been riding through the streets all day, and the bouncing on horseback has nearly rattled my bones apart. Let's eat first. Whatever needs to be said can wait until we're full!"
As he spoke, he leaned in toward the Old Madam and blinked, looking almost like the child he once was, begging his grandmother for candy.
The Old Madam looked at him, the complexity in her eyes fading, replaced by a hint of helpless indulgence.
This brat of a boy—he was even resorting to acting cute just to smooth things over.
A full-fledged Tanhua stooping so low—if she didn't go along with it, she would seem heartless. The Old Madam gave a slight nod, her gaze sweeping over the crowd in the courtyard.
"Everyone, disperse," she said, her voice low but carrying an undeniable authority. "Go about your business. There's no need for all of you to crowd around here."
The servants, relieved, murmured their assent in unison and quietly withdrew. Their footsteps were as soft as cats'; the rustle of robes faded away, and the courtyard emptied out.
Cheng Lu had been standing at the back of the crowd, neither rushing forward to join the commotion nor hurrying to leave. Now that she saw the Old Madam dismissing the servants, she understood—what came next was not for her ears.
She was the "Miss Cousin."
A distant relative seeking shelter at the Marquis's manor.
On a sensitive topic like this—the main branch's private affairs, involving a concubine's pregnancy—her presence as an outsider would only make everyone uncomfortable.
She stepped forward, curtsied to the Old Madam with impeccable grace and etiquette, and said in a composed, clear voice: "Old Madam, I'm feeling a bit weary. May I take my leave now?"
The Old Madam glanced at her, approval flickering in her eyes. This girl had good instincts—she knew when to step back without being told.
She nodded. "Go ahead. Rest early."
Cheng Lu acknowledged the command, then turned to Pei Cijing, giving a slight bow. "Congratulations, cousin, on achieving the title of Tanhua. I offer my felicitations."
Pei Cijing clasped his hands in thanks. "Thank you, cousin."
Cheng Lu straightened up, said nothing more, and turned to walk toward the inner courtyard.
The Old Madam watched her leave, then shifted her attention back to the three members of the main branch.
"Don't just stand there," she said flatly, her tone betraying no emotion. "Let's all go eat together. Whatever it is, we'll settle it later."
……
In the main hall of Yifu Hall, the feast had already been laid out.
Dishes were arranged neatly in rows: braised pork elbow, steamed perch in clear broth, Four-Joy meatballs, and osmanthus-glazed lotus root stuffed with sticky rice—all Pei Cijing's favorite flavors.
The pork elbow was stewed so tender that its skin glistened red; a gentle poke with chopsticks could sink right into the meat. The perch was steamed, topped with shredded ginger and scallions, drizzled with soy sauce, its fresh aroma filling the air.
But despite the spread, no one had much appetite.
The Old Madam sat at the head of the table.
The bowl and chopsticks in front of her had barely been touched.
Pei Fucheng sat on her right, nursing a cup of wine, taking small sips. His gaze was fixed on some distant point, lost in thought. Madam Li sat next to him, picking up her chopsticks only to set them down again, her plate empty.
Pei Ciling sat further down, his food also untouched. He sat straight-backed, his eyes leveled forward, his face expressionless.
The second branch's family wanted to eat, but they felt awkward doing so with the main branch's heavy atmosphere hanging over the table.
Seeing how stifling things had become, the Old Madam set down her chopsticks.
The clatter of bamboo on porcelain was light, but in the near-silent hall, it cut through the air like a drop of oil hitting hot water.
Everyone paused.
The Old Madam did not look at anyone. She picked up her teacup, took a sip, and set it down again.
Then she spoke.
Her voice was not loud, but every word was clear as a nail driven into wood—firm and resolute. "What do you plan to do about Shen Ningyue's situation?"
At these words, silence fell over the table.
No one spoke.
No one reached for their chopsticks.
Even breathing was subdued.
The Old Madam's gaze swept over the three members of the main branch, one by one. Madam Li, Pei Fucheng, Pei Ciling—she read every expression clearly.
"She's already pregnant. There has to be a plan," the Old Madam continued, her tone flat and unreadable. "This is your branch's own affair. I won't interfere. But since we're one family, there must be some statement made. Hiding and covering it up—what kind of example is that?"
Pei Ciling's fingers tightened slightly.
He was silent for a moment. Then he set down his chopsticks and rose to his feet. The legs of his chair scraped lightly against the stone floor, the sound cutting sharply through the quiet hall.
He straightened his robes, turned to the Old Madam, and bowed with full respect.
"Grandmother," he spoke, his voice not loud but steady enough to reach everyone's ears, "since she is with child, let it be born. Regardless, it is my own flesh and blood. I will not abandon it."
After speaking, he bowed deeply: "Please, Grandmother, grant your blessing."
The hall fell silent for another moment.
The Old Madam's gaze rested on him, her eyes clouded yet sharp, carrying a mixture of scrutiny, curiosity, and an indescribable complexity.
She did not answer immediately, merely watching Pei Ciling as though weighing something.
After a moment, she spoke.
"This is a matter for your own branch of the family," she said flatly, her tone revealing neither joy nor anger. "I, an old woman, will not interfere."
Pei Ciling breathed a quiet sigh of relief, bowed once more, then straightened and turned his gaze toward Pei Fucheng.
Pei Fucheng sat there, his expression still stern, revealing no emotion. He did not speak at once, merely slowly rotating the wine cup in his hand.
Finally, after a long pause, Pei Fucheng spoke.
His voice was low.
His tone was calm.
As though asking about an ordinary matter: "Have you thought this through?"
But Pei Ciling knew this was no ordinary matter.
His father was asking him—have you considered what it means for this child to be born? Have you considered how much harder your future path will become? Have you considered whether you can bear this responsibility?
Pei Ciling did not hesitate.
He nodded firmly.
"I have."
Four words, simple and plain, without any embellishment.
Pei Fucheng looked at him, was silent for a moment, and then said nothing more.
He lowered his head.
Took a sip of wine.
His face remained expressionless, but the slight relaxation of his brow and the hint of gentleness at the corner of his mouth betrayed his feelings.
A real man knows what to do and what not to do.
This rebellious son!
He had grown up a little, after all.
To recognize what he truly wanted, to accept the responsibility he ought to bear, to withstand the troubles and criticism that came with it—this sense of duty was worth more than any fame or fortune.
Pei Fucheng set down his teacup and said no more.
That was his tacit approval.
Pei Ciling turned to Madam Li.
Not just him—everyone from the second branch of the family also looked toward her. Pei Fugui set down his chopsticks, Madam Zhou put down her teacup, Zhou Youfu's wine cup paused mid-air, and Zhou Dahe even forgot to chew, his mouth still half-full of rice.
In those gazes were curiosity, inquiry, sympathy, and a hint of something elusive.
Madam Li felt uncomfortable under all those stares.
She could read the meaning behind their eyes: in everyone's view, she was probably the wicked mother-in-law, the cruel mistress who would feed her husband's concubine contraceptive tea and refuse to let a bastard child be born.
That was how the plays told it, how the storybooks wrote it.
But was she really?
Madam Li clenched her teeth and finally could not hold back. Her voice rose higher than usual, tinged with irritation and indignation: "Why is everyone staring at me? So I'm the only villain here?"
No one in the hall answered.
Madam Li took a deep breath and decided to lay it all out: "If you drink too much contraceptive tea, it ruins your health. I never once had anyone give it to her! I only told you to be careful, not to have a bastard child born before the official wife enters the household, or it would make it harder to arrange a good marriage later.
"Now that something has happened, why are you all staring at me?"
The more she spoke, the angrier she grew, and her voice rose. Her gaze swept across everyone's faces before finally settling on Pei Ciling: "If I truly wanted to make sure she couldn't bear a child, I have plenty of ways! Why would I wait until today?"
Her words were blunt, even harsh, but after hearing them, the biting edge in everyone's eyes faded somewhat.
Yes.
If Madam Li had truly wanted to take action, she would have had countless opportunities. Shen Ningyue's daily meals and routines—what could escape the eyes of the mistress of the household? If she had wanted to make her infertile, she could have tampered with her food without anyone knowing, and no one would have found fault.
But she hadn't.
She had merely told Pei Ciling to "be careful."
That alone was already an act of mercy.
After hearing her words, Pei Ciling's expression did not change much, but a complex emotion flickered in his eyes.
He walked up to Madam Li, stopped, then clasped his hands and bowed deeply.
"Mother," he said, his voice low but sincere, "Your son knows that everything you did was for my benefit. Given what happened between Ningyue and me before, it was only natural that you were displeased with her. But this matter—I beg you to grant your blessing."
Madam Li looked at her son standing before her, bowing respectfully. She saw his tall, upright figure, a head taller than herself, and the newfound steadiness between his brows.
The anger in her heart.
Suddenly dissolved.
She sighed—a sigh filled with helplessness, heartache, and a touch of resignation.
"Enough, rise," she said, waving her hand, her tone softening. "If you want this child, then have it. The Marquis's household has too few descendants; a newborn would be a good thing."
Pei Ciling straightened up, about to say something, but Madam Li spoke again, her tone more serious than before: "But some things must be made clear. I am not playing the villain on purpose."
Her eyes fixed on Pei Ciling's face, she said, word by word: "Her pregnancy cannot be used as leverage to raise her status. Your lawful wife will never be her. Do you understand that?"
The hall grew quiet.
Everyone's eyes were on Pei Ciling.
This was a weighty question.
Not asking whether he "knew," but whether he "understood." Knowing was one thing; understanding was another. To know was merely to hear and remember; to understand was to think it through, accept it, and never harbor false hope again.
Pei Ciling paused for a moment.
That moment was brief.
So brief that others barely noticed.
But Pei Cijing noticed—his elder brother's Adam's apple moved, and he saw the fingers at his side curl slightly, then slowly relax.
Then Pei Ciling nodded.
"Your son understands."
Madam Li looked at him for a long while, then sighed again, waved her hand, and said nothing more.
Seeing that the first branch had settled the matter, the Old Madam withdrew her gaze.
She picked up her chopsticks again.
"Now that everything has been said clearly, let's eat properly," she said, her tone much lighter than before. She picked up a piece of steamed sea bass and placed it in her bowl. "Cijing passed the imperial examination as Tanhua. That is a great joy for our Marquis's household. This meal was originally meant to celebrate his success—don't let other matters spoil the mood!"
Pei Fugui immediately caught on, raising his wine cup with a hearty laugh: "Yes, yes! Mother is right! Come, Cijing, your father toasts you! Tanhua! You've brought glory to our second branch!"
Pei Cijing quickly raised his cup, clinked it with his father's, and drank it down in one gulp.
Madam Zhou also broke into a smile. She picked up her chopsticks and placed a piece of osmanthus-glutinous rice cake for Shen Ninghuan: "Ninghuan, try this. Made fresh today—sweet but not cloying, soft and tender."
Shen Ninghuan took it, smiling slightly: "Thank you, Mother."
Zhou Youfu stroked his beard and laughed heartily. "Cijing, didn't I tell you from the start? You were certain to pass! And now, look—you've done it, and even ranked Tanhua! Come, come, let your grandfather toast you as well!"
Zhou Dahe's dark face was full of smiles. He raised his wine cup, said nothing, merely nodded toward Pei Cijing, then drained it in one gulp.
Pei Cijing responded to each toast in turn, drinking cup after cup, unable to hide the smile spreading across his face.
The tension that had lingered moments ago, like a thin layer of ice, now melted away under the warmth of a few cups of wine—dissolving, softening, dissolving into nothing.
Laughter, chatter, and the clinking of cups filled the hall once more.
Goblet in hand, Pei Cijing glanced sideways and noticed that Pei Ciling had also raised his cup.
The brothers' eyes met across the room. Pei Ciling gave a slight raise of his cup, the corners of his lips curving into a smile that carried a hint of gratitude, mixed with something else—something subtle and hard to read.
Pei Cijing raised his own cup in return and drank it down.
He said nothing.
Outside the window, the night was deepening.
Lanterns hung under the eaves swayed gently in the evening breeze, casting pools of warm light upon the flagstone path. The laughter from Yifu Hall drifted out in fragments, carried away into the spring wind of April, floating far, far away...
