The banquet was over, the lanterns dimming.
The laughter from Yifu Hall still echoed beneath the eaves, but the guests had already drifted away in twos and threes.
Maids led the way with lanterns, their dim yellow glow swaying gently in the night breeze, casting the bluestone path in flickering shadows.
Pei Cijing had drunk quite a bit tonight. His steps were unsteady, but he could still hold himself upright.
He walked beside Shen Ninghuan, his hand sneaking beneath her sleeve to hook her fingers, swaying them gently back and forth like a child at a temple fair refusing to let go of his mother’s hand.
Shen Ninghuan indulged him but steadied him as they turned a corner. “Watch the road,” she said softly.
Pei Cijing let out a couple of silly chuckles.
Then he obediently watched his step.
A few paces ahead, Pei Fugui and Madam Zhou were walking.
Pei Fugui had also drunk his fill tonight, his round face flushed red. He walked steadily enough, but he was humming an off-key tune, completely oblivious to how badly he was mangling it.
Madam Zhou walked beside him, unusually refraining from scolding him for the noise. She simply stared ahead into the night, her gaze distant.
The group crossed the moon-gate, passed the wisteria trellis where new buds had already sprouted, and arrived at a fork in the path.
To the left was Wealth Yard, the courtyard of Pei Fugui and Madam Zhou.
To the right was Peaceful Dwelling, the courtyard of Pei Cijing and Shen Ninghuan.
This was where they were supposed to part ways, each returning to their own quarters.
Pei Fugui had already taken a half-step to the left, his off-key humming still going, while Pei Cijing led Shen Ninghuan toward the right.
Then Madam Zhou abruptly stopped.
“Fugui,” she said, her voice not loud but carrying a tone of finality. “Go on ahead.”
Pei Fugui halted mid-step, turning back with a bewildered look on his round face: “Wife?”
Madam Zhou ignored him, fixing her gaze on Shen Ninghuan instead. “Cijing, you go back too. I have some private words for Ninghuan.”
Private words?
Pei Fugui and Pei Cijing exchanged glances, both their faces wearing the same look of confusion—father and son in mutual bewilderment, unable to figure out what this was about.
Late at night, what words couldn’t wait until tomorrow?
What had to be said behind their backs?
Pei Fugui opened his mouth to ask but, seeing his wife’s “don’t-pry” expression, swallowed the words that had risen to his lips.
In all these years of marriage, he had learned one lesson well: when his wife spoke, you listened. Asking too many questions only invited a scolding.
He let out an “oh.”
Then obediently turned and walked toward Wealth Yard.
After a few steps, he looked back and threw Pei Cijing a meaningful glance, one that clearly said—You and I are in the same boat, son. Don’t ask. Just leave.
Pei Cijing caught his father’s signal and twitched the corner of his mouth.
He lowered his head and looked at Shen Ninghuan. She gave him a slight nod, a faint smile curling at the corner of her lips. He had no choice but to swallow his curiosity.
“Then I’ll head back, dear,” he said, letting go of Shen Ninghuan’s hand. Then he turned to Madam Zhou: “Mother, please rest early as well.”
Madam Zhou waved her hand dismissively—her gesture clearly said, Stop dawdling, just go!
Pei Cijing didn’t linger any longer. He turned and walked toward Peaceful Dwelling.
His steps were more steady now. The night breeze had sobered him up a bit, clearing his mind. He walked while pondering—what exactly did his mother want to say to his wife?
Just women’s private talk?
At the fork, only the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law remained.
The night breeze swept through the corridor, the lantern swaying gently, stretching and shrinking their shadows, overlapping them before pulling them apart.
Shen Ninghuan stood quietly, her expression calm, a faint smile on her lips.
She already knew what Madam Zhou wanted to say.
Back at the banquet, Madam Zhou’s thoughts had been pouring in like a broken floodgate, rushing straight into Shen Ninghuan’s mind.
A grandson. I want a grandson.
Shen Ningyue is pregnant. Why hasn’t our Ninghuan had any news?
Ninghuan’s body looks healthy. Good complexion, shapely figure—she looks like she’d be great at bearing children. There shouldn’t be a problem…
What if that brat Cijing has worn himself out from all that studying?
He has been up early and late these past few months, losing weight. Could he have harmed his health?
No, no, I must have Imperial Physician Hua prescribe him a tonic.
Tomorrow, I’ll prepare generous gifts and go see Imperial Physician Hua!
Shen Ninghuan listened to these ramblings, keeping her face composed while inwardly finding it hard not to laugh. Her mother-in-law’s train of thought jumped from her grandson to her son’s health and then to Imperial Physician Hua, erratic and unstoppable.
Madam Zhou cleared her throat, then took Shen Ninghuan’s hand and led her a few steps to the side of the corridor.
No one else was around.
Only the night wind occasionally whispering through the treetops.
“Ninghuan,” Madam Zhou said in a low voice, “you saw it at the banquet too. Shen Ningyue… she’s pregnant. What do you think about this?”
As she spoke, her gaze lingered on Shen Ninghuan’s face, as if observing her reaction.
Shen Ninghuan blinked.
She knew exactly what her mother-in-law was really asking, but she wasn’t about to point it out. In situations like this, whoever spoke first lost. She’d let her mother-in-law say it herself.
So she replied earnestly, “Mother, this is about the Elder House’s affairs. Since Grandmother, the Marquess, and Aunt didn’t object, I don’t really have an opinion.”
Madam Zhou’s mouth twitched.
Who asked you about that!
Who asked for your opinion on the Elder House!
She took a deep breath, about to say something more, but then Shen Ninghuan reached out and gently placed her hand over Madam Zhou’s.
“Mother.” Shen Ninghuan’s voice was soft, laced with comfort. “I know what Shen Ningyue did back then wronged everyone.”
“But it’s been so long. You don’t have to keep dwelling on it. She’s been staying quiet in the Elder House, leaving our Second House alone. You should let go of your worries.”
Madam Zhou was speechless for a moment.
Was she really that petty?
Frankly, if Shen Ningyue hadn’t stirred up all that trouble, she wouldn’t have gotten such a gentle and virtuous daughter-in-law now. In a way, one misfortune had truly brought unexpected fortune.
So she had long stopped caring about the past.
The important thing was to focus on the present.
As for Shen Ningyue, as long as she stayed out of trouble and didn’t drag the Second House into her messes, Madam Zhou was perfectly fine treating her like a stranger.
But that’s not what she intended to talk about!
Her daughter-in-law was usually sharp enough to catch on immediately, so why was she being so obtuse tonight, missing the key point?
Madam Zhou inhaled deeply, deciding not to beat around the bush anymore. She grabbed Shen Ninghuan’s hand tightly, her eyes blazing with intent: “Ninghuan, that’s not what I meant. What I’m asking is—look, Shen Ningyue is already pregnant. When will you two give me a grandson?”
Her voice dropped even lower, as if she was sharing an earth-shattering secret. "Cijing has become a Tanhua now, which counts as making something of himself. Your mother has no other wishes left in this life. I just hope to hold a grandchild, enjoy the company of little ones, and savor the joys of family."
"When that day comes, your mother's life will be complete!"
As she spoke, she kneaded Shen Ninghuan's hands. Her demeanor wasn’t like a mother-in-law speaking to her daughter-in-law, but more like a child making a wish to an adult.
Shen Ninghuan looked at her like that.
She found it both amusing and overwhelming.
"Mother," she said softly, her tone gentle, "these things depend on fate."
Hearing this, Madam Zhou's anticipation didn’t diminish in the slightest. Instead, she gripped Shen Ninghuan’s hands even tighter and said earnestly, "Ninghuan, your mother knows it’s about fate. But having children isn’t something you leave entirely to heaven. You have to work at it yourself."
She paused, as if organizing her thoughts, then said with utter seriousness, "It’s just like farming. Only by diligently sowing seeds and working hard in the fields will you get a good harvest in autumn. If you just rely on heaven to provide, the land will be barren long before. You young couple are still in your prime. This is the perfect time. You can’t afford to be lazy."
Shen Ninghuan: "..."
Farming? Sowing? Working hard?
Her mother-in-law’s metaphor was—both down-to-earth and impossible to argue with. Struck speechless by these words, Shen Ninghuan could only blush and nod repeatedly in agreement.
Seeing her agree, Madam Zhou’s smile deepened.
She patted Shen Ninghuan’s hand and said warmly, "Alright, alright. Your mother won’t say more. It’s getting late. You should head back quickly. That rascal Cijing is probably getting impatient."
She released her hand, stepped back, and added with a reminder, "Be careful on the way. Have the maid keep the lantern bright so you don’t trip."
Shen Ninghuan bowed. "Mother, please rest early too."
She turned and headed toward the Peaceful Retreat. The maid walked ahead with a lantern, its dim yellowish glow casting shifting patterns of light and shadow on the bluestone path.
Shen Ninghuan walked slowly, her steps steady.
She could feel that gaze still fixed on her back, unwavering. She could even "hear" the restless thoughts churning in Madam Zhou’s mind, still close by—
"Keep going! Work hard!"
"Daughter-in-law, keep it up! Son, keep it up!"
"My dear grandchild, your grandmother is waiting for you!"
The corner of Shen Ninghuan’s mouth curled slightly, but her feet didn’t stop. Just two steps later, she "heard" Madam Zhou’s train of thought suddenly veer off course.
"Right, I need to pay a visit to the Imperial Academy of Medicine one of these days."
"Imperial Physician Hua and our family have some ties. He cured Miss Cheng’s illness. He must have plenty of prescriptions. I’ll go ask him if he has any secret formulas for bearing sons..."
"Yes, I need to give them to that rascal Cijing."
"He can’t have ruined his health from all that studying. He needs to be nourished. A big boost!"
Shen Ninghuan’s step faltered slightly, nearly tripping over her own skirt. She took a deep breath, suppressed the mix of laughter and exasperation, and kept walking.
Her mother-in-law’s thoughts truly jumped around.
Still, was her husband’s body really that weak?
Not quite.
But if Madam Zhou wanted to visit Imperial Physician Hua, she wouldn’t stop her. After all, given Pei Cijing’s temperament, if he found out his own mother suspected he was "inadequate," he’d probably leap to his feet on the spot.
That image.
Was rather amusing.
The corner of Shen Ninghuan’s mouth lifted again as she quickened her steps.
...
The Peaceful Retreat.
Pei Cijing had already washed up. He had changed into a moon-white underrobe and was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting.
His hair was still slightly damp, clearly just towel-dried but not fully dry. A few stray strands clung to his forehead, making his fair face appear even more pristine. Candlelight cast its glow on his face, illuminating his features sharply.
His gaze kept drifting toward the door, his ears pricked for sounds outside.
Why wasn’t his wife back yet?
What exactly had his mother said to her?
Just as he was pondering, he heard footsteps outside. The steps were light, one after another, in a rhythm he knew well.
Pei Cijing immediately sat up straight.
The door opened, and Shen Ninghuan entered.
She had already changed into casual clothes—a lotus-root-colored vest and a moon-white pleated skirt. Her hair was undone, loose strands cascading over her shoulders, softening her already delicate features.
Pei Cijing stood up, walked over, took the outer garment from her hands, and hung it on the rack. The motion was so natural, as if he had done it a thousand times.
"Wife, what did Mother say to you?" He turned his head, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.
Shen Ninghuan didn’t hide anything. She said plainly, "Mother wants to hold a grandchild."
She spoke these words with a flat tone, as if commenting on the weather, but a faint hint of amusement flickered in her clear eyes as she looked at Pei Cijing.
Pei Cijing: "..."
He knew it!
From the moment his mother had kept his wife behind, he had a vague premonition. After all, continuing the family line was no small matter in this era.
Shen Ningyue was pregnant.
Naturally, his mother felt envious. The balance in her heart tipped. As daughters-in-law of the Pei family, one branch had already shown signs of progress, while the other remained quiet. How could his mother not be anxious?
But he hadn’t expected his mother to push for grandchildren right in front of his wife.
This whole "push for grandchildren" thing—he had seen plenty of it in his past life online.
Things like "Have one while we’re still young enough to help you take care of it," or "Old Man Wang next door is already on his second, why haven’t you started?", or "If you wait much longer, it’ll be dangerous"... Aunts and uncles took turns hitting you with it, each with their own tricks that caught you off guard.
Who would have thought that even after traveling through time to the Great Qian dynasty, he couldn’t escape this?
They hadn’t even been married a year yet!
What’s the rush!
Every day he could sleep in with his wife, wake up naturally. They could have breakfast, lunch, and dinner together. He could hold her hand as they walked in the courtyard, rest his head on her lap and read idle books, fall asleep breathing in her fragrance...
He hadn’t even gotten his fill of this two-person world yet!
If a little creature actually showed up—crying at night, fussing during the day, needing constant attention for everything—his wife would be wrapped up around the child. She’d have no time for him!
No way!
Absolutely no way!
The whole "introducing a little beast" project could be put off for now.
But—Pei Cijing did a quick mental calculation. His eyes suddenly lit up. Today happened to be his wife’s safe period. That meant no matter how hard they "worked," there wouldn’t be any "real consequences."
He could satisfy his wife’s need to report back to his mother, fulfill his mother’s wishes, and still have no "risk."
Everything aligned perfectly.
Killing two birds with one stone. Perfect!
The corner of Pei Cijing’s mouth lifted. He stepped forward, took Shen Ninghuan’s hand—her fingers were slender and soft, like holding a piece of warm jade—and said with the utmost seriousness, "Mother’s wish must be fulfilled. Wife, it’s late. We should retire to bed."
Shen Ninghuan looked at him, this "seriously perverted" act, and couldn’t help rolling her eyes at him. But the eyeroll carried no force, carrying instead a hint of playful reluctance.
Pei Cijing chuckled and, in one swift motion, swept her up into his arms, then strode purposefully toward the bed...
