Chapter 133

King Jing wanted to take Nianxi as his concubine, but Wen Yuanqiao didn’t mention it to anyone in the family. Such a degrading matter—there was no need to bring it up and ruin the family’s mood.

Still, he was furious. How dare King Jing propose such a thing about his perfectly good daughter!

It was as though others didn’t cherish his precious jewel. Wen Yuanqiao only hated his powerlessness, unable to give a proper beating to the middleman who delivered the proposal to show King Jing how resolute he was. If King Jing wanted to bully his Nianxi, he’d have to go through her father first!

Pei Jian hadn’t visited Father Wen for a while. He’d been busy with a case in the Lianghuai region, making it hard to find the time. With the year-end approaching, he still had to take on a distant assignment. So, on a clear afternoon after the snow, he brought along a recently acquired ancient painting to pay a visit.

Father Wen was not as cheerful as usual. He picked up the painting and gave it a fleeting glance, not showing much enthusiasm or joy.

Pei Jian noticed his reaction clearly. After exchanging a few words about the painting, Pei Jian finally spoke up, “Uncle, you seem to be in low spirits?”

Father Wen, with his typical literary temperament, had a clear and firm set of standards for his likes and dislikes. One glance at his demeanor revealed that something was on his mind.

Wen Yuanqiao had always felt a natural rapport with Pei Jian, and after being saved by him last time, Father Wen didn’t treat Pei Jian as a junior despite his youth. He spoke directly, “My youngest daughter is now growing up—it’s about time to find her a good match.”

Hearing this, Pei Jian’s forehead twitched slightly. But he was always one to hide his thoughts and keep his demeanor calm. He smiled and said, “Jinghe hasn’t married yet. How could the younger sister get married before her elder brother? Uncle, don’t be partial. When it comes to marriage, Jinghe should come first.”

Wen Yuanqiao felt bitter in his heart. How could he bear to see his precious daughter marry early? It was only because of the pressing circumstances.

But he couldn’t say that aloud. Even mentioning the idea of his daughter being a concubine felt like defiling his mouth.

However, Shizhang was well-intentioned, and his words were reasonable. So Wen Yuanqiao forced a smile and said, “What you said is also true.”

Pei Jian, having been father-in-law and son-in-law with Father Wen for more than a decade in his previous life, wasn’t exactly deeply familiar with his father-in-law’s ways, but he did know his general personality.

Seeing him act like this now, Pei Jian had already formed a plan in his mind. He didn’t press further and instead shifted the topic to the beauty of literary works.

He waited until he stepped out of the Wen residence before his face turned dark, giving orders, “Investigate who Uncle Wen has met with recently.”

In his previous life, Prime Minister Pei had his own intelligence network with many capable subordinates. Such a small matter usually takes no longer than the time it takes to finish a meal to uncover. However, his foundation in this life was still shallow, and everything was still being established. Thus, it was already evening by the time he learned of King Jing’s intentions.

After reporting back, the subordinates received no instructions for half a day. One of them finally mustered up the courage to raise his head and take a glance—only to see Pei Jian’s face deeply serious, no different from usual, except for the piercing, murderous glint in his eyes that sent chills down their spines, making them tremble with fear, unable to meet his gaze.

“Dismissed,” he said.

The study was silent as if even the sound of a feather dropping could be heard. The candlelight flickered faintly, and Pei Jian’s face, half-hidden in light and shadow, appeared even more rugged and profound.

King Jing wanted to take Nianxi as his concubine.

There was almost no doubt—the cause was definitely him.

That day, at the entrance of Fusheng Banzhan, King Jing had seen the scene of him and Nianxi together.

Pei Jian, who supported the Crown Prince, naturally opposed King Jing. He was unafraid of this arrogant and impulsive prince. Or perhaps, in those final years, his true opponent was Lu Wensheng, the man behind King Jing.

In the court, it was a battlefield for men. Life and death were determined by fate, but the outcome depended on skill. However, King Jing should not have dragged innocent people into the fray.

This made Pei Jian recall his past life. At that time, the Emperor was gravely ill, and the Crown Prince was about to ascend to the throne at the Emperor’s spirit altar. While Pei Jian was handling affairs in the palace, he received the news of his wife’s death upon returning home.

His wife had been murdered in their home.

Today, Xiao Xun could humiliate him by taking Nianxi as a concubine. In the future, would he not channel his full resentment onto an innocent woman in seclusion to exact revenge on Pei Jian?

He definitely would.

Pei Jian stared at the flickering light on the candlestick, and his murderous intent surged, almost bursting out. Many things did not necessarily have to follow the trajectory of his past life. Since Xiao Xun wanted to die so desperately, he might as well fulfill that wish sooner.

What one thinks about during the day manifests in dreams at night.

That night, Pei Jian slept very late. As soon as he lay down, he dreamt of Nianxi and himself.

It was still their little courtyard. The courtyard was full of blooming roses, their fragrance even more intense after nightfall—the floral scent wafted through the gauze windows of the study, carried by the evening breeze.

He saw himself seated at the desk, busy with his tasks. Nianxi sat in the armchair in front of him, gently flipping through the book in her hands.

The study was small, with only the soft, rhythmic dripping sound from the bronze water clock breaking the silence.

Pei Jian was reviewing official documents. He had always excelled at this, no matter how arduous or intricate the content was; he could read ten lines at a glance and write easily.

Yet, at this moment, he was somewhat distracted. Because the person who had just promised earnestly to accompany him was now resting her delicate wrist against her cheek, leaning sideways on the armrest. Her sleeve had slipped from her wrist, bunching up at her elbow and revealing a stretch of pale skin as pure and delicate as snow.

The book in her hand was loosely held, teetering at the edge of her skirt.

She had already fallen asleep.

The silver lamp burned brightly, and the study was utterly silent. Although there were still unfinished documents, he gently moved his chair and slowly approached her.

She slept soundly, her lips slightly curved, revealing faint dimples. Her elbow, propped on the armchair, slowly slid down, about to fall. He quickly supported her head with his hand.

Nianxi’s small face fell into his palm.

He knew she was awake. Her raven-black lashes trembled lightly, and the corners of her lips almost betrayed her amusement. Yet, she mischievously refused to open her eyes. So, Pei Jian adjusted her face, lifted her pointed chin, and let his gaze fall on her full, crimson lips. Slowly, he leaned down, his face moving closer to hers.

Their breaths intertwined, each feeling the warm, moist rhythm of the other’s breath.

Unable to resist, Nianxi puckered her red lips and took the initiative to touch his lightly.

Pei Jian let out a brief chuckle.

Nianxi’s face turned red with embarrassment. Frustrated, she opened her eyes, stood up, and pushed him away. “I’m tired. You’re not allowed back in the inner chamber tonight!”

She turned to leave, but he caught her by the arm just as she lifted her foot and pulled her back into his embrace.

“I wasn’t laughing at you earlier…” He leaned lightly on her shoulder, whispering softly in her ear. Yet his chest trembled distinctly, unable to suppress another laugh.

At this, Nianxi grew annoyed and refused to let him hold her any longer. Helpless, he wrapped her tightly in his arms and continued coaxing her in a gentle voice.

The midsummer night’s breeze blew through the window, stirring her skirt and brushing against her ebony hair adorned with a slanted jade hairpin.

Pei Jian overheard a pair of lovers murmuring beneath the moonlit window: “Husband, do you prefer boys or girls?”

“Either is fine.”

“You must choose one!”

“Twins—a boy and a girl?”

…

In the dream, unaware I was but a guest, briefly indulging in joy (*).

Upon waking, Pei Jian unexpectedly recalled the past life when he had erected a tombstone for the child who never had a chance to be born. A master had once offered him a remark: “The official star is too strong, hindering the child star. Thus, the bond with children is thin and cannot be forced.”

His gaze lost its usual calm, like a deep current surging through an abyss, his eyes impossibly dark and brooding.

Note: The line 梦里不知身是客，一晌贪欢 (“In the dream, unaware I was but a guest, briefly indulging in joy”) is from the late Five Dynasties poet Li Yu.