The two returned to the main house, where the meal had already been set upon the Eight Immortals table.
The dishes included both Du Jingyi’s favorites and those preferred by Shang Ji, with a pot of wine placed neatly at the side.
At the sight of the wine, Du Jingyi’s cheeks flushed faintly, tinged with a drunken warmth even before drinking.
Shang Ji noticed the maids’ little scheme and found it amusing.
Did they really think he needed wine to draw closer to his wife?
So, this time, he stepped forward and spoke.
“In the future, if Madam wishes to drink, you may bring it out. But there’s no need to prepare it otherwise.”
“…Yes, General.”
Yingtao, standing by, stiffened slightly.
What did he mean by that?
Could it be that the General suspected they had tampered with the wine?
Though uneasy, she dared not protest and quietly removed the pot, leaving the couple in peace for their meal.
In the past few days, Du Jingyi’s “illness” had steadily improved. After all, Madam Wei had issued an ultimatum—she must appear at the Duke’s upcoming birthday banquet.
Thus, Du Jingyi had refrained from applying her pearl-jade face powder these last two days, allowing a natural flush to return to her cheeks.
During the meal, the couple exchanged few words. Only afterward, when the table had been cleared and they sat with tea in hand, did they begin to speak again.
“Did Sister-in-law come to see you?” Shang Ji asked.
“Yes,” Du Jingyi nodded. “She seems far more at ease than before. Once we move into the General’s Mansion, it will be a new beginning. I believe everything will be well.”
“That’s good.”
Du Jingyi hesitated, then said,
“My sister-in-law also mentioned Ping’er. He’s at a delicate age now—not too young, yet not quite grown. General, have you considered what should be done for him next?”
“I have already arranged for a tutor in riding and archery. That much is easy. As for his studies, I am still weighing whether to hire a private tutor at home or send him to study outside. The last time I looked over his work, his performance was middling, nothing remarkable.”
This, too, weighed on Shang Ji’s heart.
After all, Ping’er was his elder brother’s only son. Wealth and comfort he could provide, but he could not allow the boy to drift into mediocrity.
His childhood brilliance had been wasted in the cloistered backyard—it was a bitter regret.
Seeing his concern, Du Jingyi gently offered another thought.
“General, at this stage, forcing Ping’er into both civil and military studies may not work. He has been too constrained. All he thinks of now is how to avoid mistakes. If this continues, even the finest scholars or instructors will be of little use.”
“What you mean is…”
“He must travel. Let him see the vastness of the world, not just the walls of a rear courtyard. Travel broadens the mind. Once he overcomes the shackles within, he will be able to learn with a free heart.”
Shang Ji agreed in principle, yet putting it into practice was not simple.
First—who would accompany the boy? Second—would his mother be willing to let him go?
He fell silent.
Du Jingyi did not press. She knew such matters could not be rushed. Instead, she said softly,
“Don’t worry too much, General. By the time we move into the General’s Mansion, it will be nearly New Year. The weather will be too cold for travel. At the earliest, he could leave in the third or fourth month of spring. We still have half a year to find a suitable companion and to discuss it with Sister-in-law.”
Shang Ji gave a low hum of assent.
“You’re thoughtful. Very well, let us proceed as you suggest. If we cannot find someone suitable, I will consult Grandmother and see whether she can recommend a proper guide for Ping’er in Jinling City.”
At the mention of the Gu family, Du Jingyi noticed a rare tenderness in her husband’s expression. Clearly, his grandmother had treated him with deep kindness.
It reminded her of her own parents, and of her elder sister.
They spoke a while longer as night deepened outside.
Had it been spring or summer, they might have sat beneath the stars to admire the moon. But now, in the bitter chill, Du Jingyi preferred the warmth indoors.
More than ever, she longed for the greenhouse to be finished, so that she might have something to look forward to during the bleak winter months. Without it, enduring wind and snow day after day would dampen her spirits.
Shang Ji noticed her rub her arms and guessed she was feeling cold. Glancing at the dark sky outside, he said,
“Let’s retire.”
“Mm.”
Du Jingyi thought he only meant to rise early for the next day’s duties. She did not realize it was because he had noticed her dislike of the cold.
After they washed and prepared for bed, they lay down together.
The large bed had always been ample for her alone, but with two, it suddenly felt narrower.
Though they were husband and wife, they were still in the tender stage of new marriage.
Du Jingyi, shy, turned on her side, her back facing Shang Ji.
He was far less restrained. As soon as the lamp was extinguished, he drew her into his arms.
Feeling the warmth at her back, Du Jingyi thought with sudden relief: her husband was like a living brazier—perfect, simply perfect.
But that thought lasted only a moment before she realized the warmth behind her was growing hotter, almost searing.
Shang Ji was no ascetic monk. To hold such beauty in his arms was incomparable—far better than the cold solitude of a barracks tent.
Her breathing quickened; his, deep and warm breath also , fell against her shoulder and ear.
“General,” she whispered faintly, “you have to rise early tomorrow…”
“Hm?”
His response lingered, low and drawn out, colored with both emotion and desire.
The sound enveloped her like a silken net, binding her heart and senses alike.
“You rogue…” she murmured, half in protest, half in surrender.
Outside, Yingtao had learned her lesson.
This time, she did not wait idly in the corridor. Instead, she walked into the courtyard, where the night’s chill pressed down upon her.
Luo Yuan stood a few steps away and gave a couple of dry coughs.
He had no wish to disturb those inside, but he longed to say something—anything—to Yingtao.
Yet, lacking the flowery words of poets, all he managed was a clumsy,
“Ah… it’s really cold tonight.”
Yingtao cast him a glance, then shook her head with faint disdain.
So dull.
“Guard Luo, please remain here. I’ll take a walk elsewhere,” she said curtly.
If it had been Lizhu standing guard, the sisters could have chatted together. But with Luo Yuan, she had nothing to say.
Without hesitation, she walked away.
As for Luo Yuan , he stood frozen, watching her retreating figure vanish into the corridor, feeling utterly bewildered.