Chapter Nine: I’m the One Who Should Apologize

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Having a child wasn’t something that could rely solely on Pei Zhouwu.

To ensure everything went perfectly, all variables had to be considered in advance.

“Madam, are you all right?” Jinli noticed that Liu Fuying’s expression had suddenly shifted—it was hard to tell whether it was sorrow or bitterness.

“I’m fine. Let’s go to Mother’s courtyard. I’ll have dinner with her.”

The Zhaiyun Courtyard of Old Madam Shen grew livelier with Liu Fuying’s arrival. The entire table was filled with dishes she had specially ordered—everything the old lady loved.

“Mother, look at you, eating like a child, getting sauce all over your mouth.”

Liu Fuying pulled out a handkerchief and gently wiped the soup from Old Madam Shen’s lips.

“You’re teasing me,” Old Madam Shen pouted, childishly aggrieved.

“How could I?” Liu Fuying laughed. “I just think you’re as cute as a little girl. Eat to your heart’s content—Ah Yin will clean you up if you get messy.”

Her eyes were full of doting affection as she smiled at the old woman.

“I knew Ah Yin was the best.” Old Madam Shen sipped her soup again and, after swallowing, suddenly asked, “Where’s Xiunian? Why didn’t he come with you? Feels like I haven’t seen him in forever.”

“Mother, he holds a second-rank military post—he’s often swamped with affairs.”

Busy with military matters? Since the injury, Shen Xiunian had been recuperating at home, barely stepping out of his room, ignoring the world entirely.

“Is he treating you well? If he isn’t, just tell me—I’ll go teach him a lesson! You two were promised since childhood. I made him swear he’d treat you right.”

Liu Fuying gently placed a few bites of food in her mother-in-law’s bowl, her expression never faltering.

Acting was second nature to her now.

“Mother, he’s your son. You know what kind of person he is better than anyone. He’s doing well.”

That evening’s meal was enjoyed outdoors in the courtyard. The weather had warmed, and it was pleasant to eat under the sky and sit afterward to enjoy the evening breeze.

In the shadows beyond the main courtyard gate, someone stood silently.

He had heard every word of their conversation.

It was Shen Xiunian.

The dim light of the lantern at the gate flickered, never fully illuminating his figure or the face that hadn’t smiled in years.

His deep, emotionless eyes settled quietly on Liu Fuying inside.

At the very least, she treated his mother well.

And that was enough.

No one knew how long he had been standing there. He left just as silently.

By the time Liu Fuying returned to Shuxing Courtyard, it was already late.

She was exhausted—so tired she didn’t even want to wash up.

Jinli, worried she wouldn’t sleep well, coaxed her into a hot bath. Liu Fuying slumped against the edge of the tub, eyelids drooping no matter how she tried to keep them open.

“Madam, when are we going up the mountain again?”

Liu Fuying didn’t respond, though she wasn’t fully asleep either.

“We don’t really have a reason to go frequently, and going too often might arouse suspicion. But if we don’t go often, how long will it take to conceive?”

After a long silence, Liu Fuying finally murmured, “Didn’t I give you a reason this afternoon when I had you spread those rumors?”

“Huh?”

Jinli blinked, confused. The rumors were about the Second Branch fighting over the family fortune. What did that have to do with Madam going into the mountains to see the Imperial Uncle?

But hearing how tired Liu Fuying sounded, she didn’t press further.

Just finding a path into the mountains had been enough to wear anyone out.

Let alone dealing with the aftermath once they returned.

Liu Fuying wasn’t even sure how she made it to her bed—she only knew she collapsed into it and immediately drifted off.

She knew exactly when to go back up the mountain.

As she’d said, the excuse had already been made, yet she had purposefully refrained from taking action for nearly half a month.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t anxious.

She was deliberately baiting Pei Zhouwu.

•  

Ever since being imprisoned in Xiangshan, Pei Zhouwu had lost all sense of time.

At first, he tried counting the days—tracking how long he’d been locked away.

But eventually, he stopped. What was the point? His release wasn’t tied to any calendar.

He only remembered that when he arrived, the snow on the mountain had yet to melt.

Now it was the peak of summer.

But lately, he’d started counting days again.

Ever since Su Yueying left, he remembered her saying that day was the first of the month.

Not that he had any particular feelings for her.

It was just… rare.

Rare for someone to barge into his desolate cage, to speak with him, to make him feel alive again.

That final look of disappointment on her face had lingered in his mind to this day.

She knew who he was. She knew the crimes on his back. But she hadn’t feared him—had even risked herself to come find him.

That kind of sincerity… how rare it was.

But if she had truly believed he scorned her background—

Then maybe… she really would never return.

Pei Zhouwu stood by the window, a bitter smile tugging at his lips.

Fate didn’t bless a man like him twice. A woman like Su Yueying—willing to brave danger and defy convention—might never come again.

Even his own parents had never visited, choosing to avoid scandal.

He felt guilty.

He shouldn’t have been so cold to her that day.

Today was the fifteenth.

The first and fifteenth of every month were considered auspicious days for offering incense and prayers.

He wondered if… if her grandmother would come to the mountain again.

If she would be with her.

If she had been punished when she got back that day.

Even if she did return to the mountain, it didn’t mean she’d come here.

Suddenly, his ears perked up.

There was a noise near the pond—and with it, a strange spark of hopeful delight in his eyes.

He pulled his chains and rushed out of the room, heading toward the deep pond.

But the pond was empty.

Nothing.

Had he imagined it?

His heart, which had leapt with hope, slowly sank again.

But then—he noticed something strange.

The dry rocks along the pond’s edge were always pale under the sun, yet now there was a single trail of dampness, leading toward the bamboo grove.

Pei Zhouwu followed the trail, turning around a cluster of bamboo stalks.

And behind them stood someone.

Who else could it be but the one he’d been thinking about—Su Yueying?

His heart, quiet for so long, suddenly pounded violently. He was so shocked, he couldn’t speak.

She was soaked from head to toe, the hem of her dress dripping onto the ground.

Stray strands of hair clung to her cheeks and forehead, unmoving—just like her. Frozen in place, too afraid to move or speak.

“I… I’m sorry.”

Her first words were an apology.

Pei Zhouwu’s brows drew together at once.

“No. I’m the one who should apologize.”

Before speaking, he had reminded himself over and over: be gentle, don’t scare her away again.

Liu Fuying lowered her head to hide the smile in her eyes.

Half a month of careful baiting had paid off handsomely.

If the setup was done well enough, some roles didn’t even require her to take the stage.

He would act it out on his own—and deliver the ending straight into her hands.