When she spoke with such conviction, Shang Ji realized he had never considered the matter in that way before.
Yet deep down, he had no doubt: if he ever betrayed Du Jingyi, she would not hesitate to leave him.
For the first time, he met her gaze directly—neither evasive nor flattering.
After a long pause, Shang Ji gave a reluctant smile. In his eyes burned a heat that seemed as though it could sear right through her.
Du Jingyi’s heart skipped. Had her ill-chosen words just now angered the general?
Before she could think further, Shang Ji stepped forward, grasped her shoulders with both hands, and said,
“Do not worry. I am not particularly drawn to matters of love. And if I were, it would be only for you. My grandmother once told me: marriage is not built upon a day or two of passion, but upon the long years of ordinary, shared life. I have never known such a life before… but from today onward, I am willing to share it with you.”
His voice deepened.
“My mother wasted her years in this Duke’s mansion. In the end, it was all because of my father’s weakness and misplaced affection. I have no interest in concubines or illegitimate children. If you are willing, then let us simply have more children of our own to fill the house with joy. To worry about their studies and their growth is far better than returning home to a courtyard full of women’s tears, is it not?”
His words were not flowery, but to Du Jingyi’s ears, they were sweeter than honey.
Her husband was a man of unyielding resolve—this she had known since the very beginning.
And since he had spoken, she believed him.
Her lips curved with a joy she had not even realized was there as she replied brightly,
“What a coincidence! I have no interest in managing endless household squabbles. If I have time, I would far rather make money!”
Her light-hearted jest dispelled the awkward tension that had lingered between them.
Shang Ji’s thoughts turned suddenly, and he asked,
“By the way—your dowry. How much is it? Surely Zuixianlou is not all of it?”
He had always known his wife was wealthy, but the extent of it remained a mystery to him, and for once, he was curious.
Du Jingyi merely smiled.
“Zuixianlou, a small part? Not at all. It’s barely a drop in the bucket.”
At that, Shang Ji realized that the woman before him was not just his wife—she was a veritable God of Wealth.
He laughed aloud, so heartily that Du Jingyi could only stare at him in bewilderment, while he himself drifted into memories of the past.
The sun had been setting that year.
After wrestling with his cousins for nearly two hours, Shang Ji looked up to see his uncles approaching.
With eager eyes, they handed over a folded letter.
“These are the noble young ladies your mother has selected. Read through and choose one you favor, so she may arrange a proposal.”
His eldest cousin—the first son of his eldest uncle—accepted the letter reluctantly, his brow furrowed. He had been hoping for a few more years of carefree youth. Why was marriage pressing so soon?
Shang Ji, still only fifteen or sixteen at the time, had no reason yet to consider such matters. But curiosity drew him and his cousins to crowd around and read the names together.
Each brother pointed out one beauty or another, but no conclusion was reached.
At last, the third cousin—closest to Shang Ji in both age and affection—turned to him with a grin.
“And what about you? What kind of wife do you want?”
Shang Ji’s eyes lit up, his expression brimming with rare confidence as he declared,
“Someone who can make money.”
The cousins burst out laughing, and even the uncles nearby pricked their ears.
“Why?” they pressed, half amused.
Straightening his back, the young Shang Ji proclaimed boldly,
“I may hold command and power, but I have no gift for making money. If my wife were skilled in such matters, then should the day come when I lack the funds to pay my soldiers, I could turn to her for help!”
Laughter erupted all around. His cousins clutched their sides, and even his uncles mocked him as a dreamer.
Who would have thought that over a decade later, his youthful words would come true?
His wife truly was, just as he had envisioned, a master of wealth.
But those who had once laughed with him… all had long since perished in Cezhou, their bones buried beneath its soil, their names remembered only as heroes.
The flicker of joy in Shang Ji’s eyes dimmed into sorrow.
Du Jingyi noticed, but said nothing.
Some wounds did not need words to mark intimacy. If the day came when he wished to share, she would listen. For now, it was enough to let him keep his silence.
From that day on, their relationship blossomed.
Though husband and wife of only a month, they carried themselves with the ease of a couple long-wedded.
Perhaps it was because both had found a measure of trust and confidence, or because each now held a true desire to live well together. Whatever the reason, their hearts leaned closer, and sweetness spread through Xitang Courtyard.
On the morning of the twenty-second day of the tenth month, Du Jingyi awoke to the quiet bustle outside.
She shifted drowsily, then nestled herself into Shang Ji’s embrace, clinging to his warmth.
“Awake?”
“Mhm.”
Where Du Jingyi was still sleepy, Shang Ji’s habits remained disciplined—he woke at the break of dawn. Yet unlike in the barracks, he did not rise immediately. Instead, he remained at her side, gazing at her face with something like fascination.
Her shoulders bore faint marks of red and purple, making her skin appear all the paler and softer in contrast.
Traces of last night’s passion.
Though Shang Ji often wished to restrain himself, once he touched her he could not control the fire within. Perhaps this was what people called being unable to help oneself.
He pressed his nose to her ear.
“What time is it?” she murmured.
“Still early,” he replied softly.
The brush of his breath against her skin drove away the last of her sleep.
She opened her eyes and complained,
“General, you’re too reckless! If anything goes wrong at the birthday banquet today, it will be entirely your fault!”
Her hand instinctively pressed her aching waist.
Shang Ji only chuckled, his eyes gleaming with affection.
“It’s fine. The guests won’t arrive until noon. Rest a little longer before you rise.”
Du Jingyi shot him a playful glare, her lips pouting.
“General, what are you saying? If I truly appeared so late, Madam Wei would accuse me of slighting my elders.”
Shang Ji smirked, his sarcasm unmistakable.
“The Fifth House scandal has been whispered about for days. She can barely protect her own face, let alone find fault with you. Don’t worry—I am here. Wash up and have breakfast at ease.”
Reassured, Du Jingyi smiled.
But after thinking it over, she still chose to rise early and prepare.
This would be her first time presenting herself before the entire capital as the General’s wife. She could not afford to be careless.