Chapter 318: Hello Chang'an
Chapter 318: With Child
“Today I went to visit Mother and stayed for most of the day…” Ma Wan smiled gently. “She looked much better — she could even sit up and talk for a while. She also told me to remind the Heir that he should not overwork himself.”
Li Lu smiled faintly.
He had asked what she had been doing, and she had answered instead with where she had gone — a detail that seemed innocuous, yet told him much.
Ma Wan was a careful woman, not one to speak in circles. But when one’s heart is unwilling to deceive, even the smallest slip may betray the truth.
A woman who has given all her heart — becomes like this.
His gaze softened. “Wan’er, thank you for caring for Mother in my stead.”
“How can the Heir speak so distantly? We are husband and wife,” she replied gently. “If we speak of hardship, these past days it is the Heir who has suffered the most — tending to every matter within and beyond the Prince’s Residence.”
The world was far from peaceful. Around Yizhou, there had been rumors of uprisings; and as their province bordered the Western frontier, the Prince of Rong’s household bore burdens both internal and external — never granted a moment of rest.
Ma Wan had included reports of these disturbances and the Prince’s responses in her letters home to the capital.
Yet the reply she received from her grandfather today said that the Holy Emperor did not wish to hear of such trivial matters. From now on, she was expected to “pay closer attention.”
Pay closer attention…
How was she to do that?
Her brief distraction did not escape Li Lu’s eyes. He smiled and lifted a hand to her cheek. “What are you thinking, Wan’er?”
Ma Wan flushed slightly from his touch. “It’s nothing… I was only thinking the Heir has been too busy lately — you should take more tonic and nourishment.”
As she spoke, she noticed the hand caressing her cheek was cold as snow. “Why are your hands so cold?” she asked softly.
Li Lu’s eyes curved in a tender smile. “It is nothing. Wan’er need not worry so much for me.”
The atmosphere between them softened — enough for one of the maids standing by to sense it. She quickly interjected, “Oh! There’s tonic soup warming in the kitchen for the Heir. We’ll go and fetch it.”
She nudged the maid beside her, Lan Ying.
Lan Ying stood unmoving, pretending not to notice.
The other maid gave her sleeve a sharp tug.
Forced, Lan Ying followed her out.
Once outside, the first maid shut the door quietly and dragged Lan Ying down the corridor.
Lan Ying’s face darkened. “Didn’t you say we were fetching soup? I’ll get it now.”
She wanted to move faster — as fast as possible — and dump the entire pot down the Prince’s throat if she could. Let him drown in tonic and confusion alike, unable ever again to bewitch her lady!
“Fetch soup? What soup?” The other maid rolled her eyes and pulled her farther away. “The Heir and the Lady finally have a quiet moment together — surely you understand?”
The words made Lan Ying’s ears burn.
“Or perhaps…” The maid leaned close with a teasing smirk. “Perhaps Sister Lan Ying has a little interest in the Heir herself? If so, I could help you.”
Lan Ying felt struck by lightning.
Interest in the Heir?
She must be mad before she’d ever take interest in that silver-tongued fox who had bewitched her lady to this point!
If she felt anything, it was a murderous impulse!
The maid, mistaking her stunned silence, grew bolder and whispered slyly in Lan Ying’s ear.
“…” Lan Ying nearly dropped her jaw. “You want me to climb his bed?”
She might want to separate the Heir and her lady, but certainly not by joining in!
This time it was the maid’s turn to look scandalized. “How can Sister Lan Ying say it so crudely? You’re the Lady’s personal maid — helping her share her burdens is only proper, isn’t it?”
Lan Ying swallowed her disgust, forcing an awkward smile. “I think we’d better concern ourselves more with the Heir’s health. If he’s worn out too quickly, runs dry of strength, and dies on us — what then?”
“…” The maid fell speechless at such bluntness.
Lan Ying seized the excuse of needing to tidy the study and escaped.
The instant she was out of sight, her polite mask dropped entirely.
Before her lady’s marriage, she had opposed it with all her might. No matter how she looked at the Prince’s Heir, she found him displeasing — sickly, elusive, untrustworthy. Yet her lady had insisted, almost quarreling with her for it.
Having grown up together, Lan Ying could not bear to part from her and had pleaded for days until her lady agreed to take her along.
Her lady had said the Heir of Prince Rong was a once-in-a-lifetime soulmate — that his music carried a solitude untouched by the world, a loneliness that drew her in. Even if his heart already held another, he had promised that one day, he would let go.
As she spoke, her eyes glimmered with longing — and a faint, aching pity. The sight had made Lan Ying’s temples throb. She had wanted to pinch someone — her lady, herself, anyone — just to wake from this madness.
Her lady, a legitimate daughter of the Prime Minister’s household, talented and refined, had willingly married such a frail man — and loved him as if her heart could heal him.
And that guilt she carried toward him… of course it came from the “task” she had undertaken.
As the maid born and raised in the Prime Minister’s manor, Lan Ying knew of that “task” all too well.
Knowing only made her feel all the more helpless. Her lady had married with hidden purpose, risking life and honor — all for a man she pitied!
Lan Ying sometimes wanted to look to the heavens and demand which meddlesome deity had dared tie such a blood-tipped red thread.
If she could find that thread, she would tear it apart, grind it beneath her teeth, and set it aflame!
True, she had no proof the Prince’s Heir harbored ulterior motives — only a servant girl’s instinct and fierce loyalty. But watching the man who had dragged her lady into this treacherous marriage, how could she feel anything but resentment?
Still, she knew the truth of their situation — under another’s roof, one must bow one’s head.
And so, no matter how heavy her indignation burned, she could only swallow it down, again and again.
In these past days, Lan Ying had come to believe that every person within the Prince of Rong’s residence possessed eight hundred hidden schemes.
She dared not open her mouth too wide when speaking, for fear that one misplaced word might be caught by the countless fine nets of calculation that filled the air like sand, suffocating her.
Even at night she avoided walking about — afraid that one misstep might send her tumbling over one of those invisible snares scattered everywhere.
Just like that maid earlier who had tried to coax her into “warming the bed” — who knew whose person she was, or what her true intentions might be?
Lan Ying sighed and began tidying her lady’s writing desk to distract herself, forcing her thoughts away from imagining what her lady and that frail fox of a man might be doing at this very moment.
The very picture of it made her chest ache.
At that moment, Li Lu drew Ma Wan gently into his embrace from behind.
“Your Highness…” she whispered, flustered.
“Wan’er,” his soft murmur brushed against her ear, “it is time we had a child.”
Her lashes trembled at his words, and joy bloomed uncontrollably in her heart.
Though he treated her with courtesy and affection, his weak health and the endless affairs of the princely household had meant that, in the half-year since their marriage, their nights together could be counted on one hand.
A child…
This was the first time he had spoken of such a thing of his own accord.
He was a reserved man by nature — this must mean that he had truly accepted her, that he had finally opened his heart to his wife.
Her eyes moistened. She nodded, trembling, and closed them.
Li Lu lowered his head to breathe against the faint fragrance of her neck. “Wan’er,” he whispered, “thank you.”
This was the wife he had chosen when he could not have the one he truly wanted — a woman gentle, sincere, and easily guided.
Everything about her was… perfectly convenient.
Yet when he closed his eyes, another face rose in his mind — one utterly beyond his control.
He thought of that marriage proposal returned by arrow, of the woman standing beneath the moon on the departing boat that night… and his jaw tightened. His lips brushed her neck, and then bit down gently.
Ma Wan’s face flushed crimson. Gathering her courage, she turned in his arms and buried her face against his chest.
The next morning, Ma Wan awoke with a faint smile upon her lips.
Turning, she gazed at the sleeping man beside her and felt utterly content.
Last night, she had sensed it clearly — he had accepted her at last, placed her within his heart. She had not chosen wrongly; her sincerity had not been wasted.
His acceptance had come gradually, and because of that, she felt more secure than ever.
She watched him for a long time before rising quietly from the bed, careful not to wake him.
Before calling her maids, she walked to the window, cast another look at the motionless bed curtains, and, seeing no movement, reached for a small jade bottle. From within, she drew out a folded letter she had hidden the previous night.
Behind her, Li Lu’s eyes were open — awake, calm, and faintly amused.
Unaware, Ma Wan tucked the letter close to her body before dressing.
When the sound of movement reached the outer room, a maid entered to attend her.
“The hour is still early,” Ma Wan whispered. “Do not disturb the Heir.”
After washing and dressing, she went to the study.
The servants of the residence knew the Princess Consort’s habits well: born in a minister’s household, she was scholarly and refined, and rose early each day to read and copy scriptures.
But today, Ma Wan could not bring herself to read.
She took out the wrinkled letter, unfolded it, and after long contemplation, began to write her reply.
She promised her grandfather she would be more “attentive.”
Yet she also insisted that the Prince of Rong’s household bore no disloyalty as the Holy Emperor suspected. The people of Yizhou were simple and content; His Highness of Rong was benevolent and virtuous — a true gentleman, not one to endanger the realm for selfish gain.
She wrote that both the Prince and the Heir must surely know she had been sent as the Holy Emperor’s eyes and ears, and yet they had always treated her with respect and trust, never showing the slightest wariness — proof enough of their integrity.
Her brush moved swiftly as she sought to use her sincerity to clear their name, to dispel suspicion.
When she finally laid the brush aside, Ma Wan breathed softly, her brows filled with quiet hope.
Perhaps Heaven truly favored her — perhaps it would grant her a path where both loyalty and love could coexist.
Since her marriage, all had gone well. Her mother-in-law, though ill, treated her kindly.
The Prince himself, of royal birth, was tolerant and unpretentious, imposing few restraints upon her.
And her husband… had never spoken a harsh word. When busy, he reminded her to care for herself; when free, he played the flute to accompany her reading.
If there was any faint sorrow in her heart, it was only when she heard others speak — too often — of the Ningyuan General.
It was not that others meant to provoke her. The woman’s deeds were simply too dazzling to ignore — a young lady who, by her own strength, had won glory in battle.
Truly a woman worthy of his heart.
She knew she could never compare.
And she knew that somewhere in her husband’s heart, that woman’s shadow still lingered.
But she had no right to complain — he had never lied to her. This path was her own choice.
And now… things were good.
Last night, he had whispered again and again that he wanted a child — their child.
Whatever the past had been, she and he were fated companions, husband and wife.
One day, with a child between them, they would even share blood — bound as true family.
Ma Wan placed a gentle hand upon her still-flat belly, eyes glowing with hope.
“Congratulations, Great Khan! From the pulse, the Queen’s pregnancy is over two months along!”
In the royal palace of Tuyuhun, northwest of Yizhou, the air rang with rejoicing.
“Congratulations to the Khan!”
Murum Yun, ruler of Tuyuhun, beamed with joy as he clasped the Queen’s hand. “Princess — we are to have a child!”
Ming Luo inclined her head slightly, a faint smile upon her lips.
The man before her — open-faced, simple, easily read — was both her husband and Tuyuhun’s ruler, the “talented warrior and statesman” her aunt had so often praised.
At least that much had been true: he treated her with respect, never daring the slightest offense.
She was the County Princess Gu of Da Sheng, raised by the Holy Emperor herself.
Tuyuhun was but a vassal state living under Da Sheng’s shadow; her marriage here was a gift, one for which he should feel eternal gratitude.
She could see his joy was genuine. He should be joyful — he should be honored.
Murum Yun was more than ten years her elder, already past thirty, with sons of twelve and seven.
But those low-born whelps could never compare to the blood she now carried within her.
When the attendants had withdrawn, Ming Luo gently touched her abdomen and murmured, “You must be a son. Otherwise, you will be of no use to me — and should never have come into this world. Do you understand?”
She despised this barren, savage land — so coarse beside the capital’s splendor.
She despised Murum Yun — his dullness, his simpering eagerness to please, made her stomach turn.
Compared to him, even the courtiers who once flattered her in Da Sheng were admirable men — and as for Cui Jing, Murum Yun could never hope to match him.
But she endured. Because she wanted power.
In these six months, she had helped govern Tuyuhun’s affairs, earning some reputation among its ministers — yet to her, it was far from enough.
She would seize every shred of power she could.
No one would ever cast her down again — not the aunt who had discarded her, nor Chang Suining, who had overturned her destiny.
Her slender fingers tightened over her abdomen.
The embroidered feathers on her robe distorted under her grasp, twisting into the shape of a winged creature ready to strike.
At dawn in the capital, a carriage procession departed from Anyi Ward, rolling down the long streets toward the city gate.
“They’re here!”
Waiting beyond the gate, Hu Yi called out, “The Cui family’s carriage — it’s coming!”
Qiao Yubai and several students of the Imperial Academy quickly stepped forward.
“My lady—”
Xiao Qiu, standing by the carriage, saw the curtain lift swiftly from within.
She hurried forward to help Qiao Yumian alight.
(4,300 characters updated — good night!)
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