It was said that if a couple’s hearts were not united, Heaven would find it difficult to bless them with an heir.
But in truth, considering how devoted the General had been, nearly two months had passed since their marriage, and yet there was still no sign of pregnancy.
The Empress’s subtle “reminder” earlier that day had left Du Jingyi faintly uneasy.
Shang Ji, ever perceptive, caught the trace of worry in his wife’s eyes. As the family walked ahead of them, he deliberately slowed his pace, leaning close to murmur beside her ear,
“I’m not in a hurry. You needn’t be either.”
Du Jingyi turned to him, puzzled for an instant, before understanding dawned. She lowered her gaze with a soft smile; her heart warmed as if touched by spring sunlight.
At the dinner table, Du Jingxiang — her older sister — carefully picked out a few slices of sausage and placed them in Du Jingyi’s bowl. Her expression brimmed with expectation.
“Try it, Sister. I never liked this before, but now it tastes like the finest delicacy.”
Her praise piqued Du Jingyi’s curiosity. She lifted her chopsticks and tasted it.
The meat was firm, lightly smoked, its flavor mellow and faintly sweet — likely dried under natural sun and seasoned with preserved fruit.
After two or three bites, she finally set down her chopsticks and smiled.
“When Aunt He arrives, I’ll send Danruo over to learn her method.”
Though she didn’t say outright that the sausage was delicious, her meaning was clear enough to make Du Jingxiang and He Shilin laugh.
“I told you,” He Shilin said proudly, “my mother’s sausages are the best.”
“Yes, yes,” Du Jingxiang added, “eat more! You’ve grown so thin — it must be from nurturing the child around all day.”
He Shilin looked at his wife with affection, unaware that his words left the rest a little startled.
Thin?
Impossible.
Just days ago, she had been pale and slender, yet now her cheeks glowed and her figure had softened with life.
Especially her belly — rounder than before, barely concealed by her loose garments.
Du Jingyi smiled knowingly.
“Next year, my brother-in-law will surely pass the imperial examinations.”
“Why do you say that?” He Shilin asked, amused.
“Because he speaks such flattering words!”
The room burst into laughter.
Master Du and Madam Du watched their eldest daughter and son-in-law with gentle eyes, pleased to see the harmony between them.
Du Jingxiang, on the other hand, blushed until her ears turned red. Though she was soon to be a mother, she still had the shy air of a young bride.
To Du Jingyi, this sight was perfect. She hoped her older sister would live peacefully, never knowing hardship, always surrounded by warmth and affection.
Meals in the Du household always seemed to pass in a blink.
Since Shang Ji had no duties that day, he joined in their light-hearted conversation, listening quietly as laughter filled the hall.
It was then he realized — today was his father-in-law’s birthday.
No wonder there had been a bowl of longevity noodles [a traditional birthday dish symbolizing long life and happiness] during the meal. He had thought it merely a preference for noodles.
Startled, he rose at once, guilt flashing across his face.
“I didn’t realize today was Father-in-law’s birthday. I came empty-handed — please forgive my discourtesy. I’ll prepare a gift once we return to the Duke’s Mansion and bring it personally to apologize.”
Master Du laughed, waving his hand in modest refusal.
“No need, General, no need! I’m too old for such fanfare. If the gods above hear I’m celebrating too loudly, they might grow jealous and shorten my years!”
“Besides, with such a lively meal and all my children gathered, what more could I wish for? There’s no need for gifts.”
His words were kindly, yet Shang Ji sensed a hint of embarrassment between the lines. Before he could reply, Du Jingyi stepped in with a serene smile.
“Don’t worry, General. I already sent Father’s birthday gift a few days ago — and he likes it very much.”
At this, the room rippled with laughter.
Du Jingyi had, with a playful whim, commissioned ninety-nine tiny golden piglets [a symbol of prosperity and fortune] as a birthday gift.
Each one was adorably crafted, almost foolishly so, gleaming like sunlight on treasure.
The Du family still recalled how the moment they opened the chest, the golden shine nearly dazzled their eyes.
Indeed, it was wealth and joy incarnate — a mountain of glittering blessings.
Shang Ji hadn’t known she had already sent such a gift, but her thoughtfulness filled him with quiet pride. Saying nothing more, he simply sat beside her, listening as the family shared their warm chatter.
His thoughts, however, drifted briefly to his father’s birthday banquet some days prior — a grand affair filled with cold formality.
No one had eaten heartily, no one had spoken sincerely.
In contrast, this modest gathering at the Du residence was vibrant and sincere.
No extravagance, no display — just laughter, good food, and genuine affection.
This, he thought, was what a birthday should feel like.
Unconsciously, Shang Ji found himself absorbed into their warmth. Though he was not a man of many words, each time someone addressed him, he responded readily — calm, measured, even gentle.
In this way, the Du family came to know him better, seeing beyond the armor of the General to the steadiness within.
As the conversation drifted, Master Du mentioned casually,
“The snow fell early this winter. I reckon spring will come sooner next year — but that might harm the crops in the northern border. We must find ways to comfort the farmers.”
It sounded like a passing remark, yet Du Jingyi immediately grasped the deeper meaning.
Though her father spoke of the northern farmlands, he was hinting at trade — the possible disruption of grain supply chains, and the ripple it might send through southern markets.
If the crops failed, prices would rise; merchants would scramble. Balancing profit and stability was no small feat.
Understanding this, Du Jingyi’s expression grew solemn.
“Don’t worry, Father. I’ll handle it.”
“Good.”
They said no more. Matters of the Du family’s private business were not discussed openly.
But Shang Ji, seated beside them, caught the undertone.
The Du family had long been renowned for its business acumen — their ability to sense market tides before others. Even a slightly early snowfall could lead them to predict trade shifts between regions.
He realized then that while his wife’s family were merchants, they possessed an insight few officials did.
Cezhou, however, might not be so prepared.
He resolved to send a letter when he returned, reminding the local magistrates and commanders to tend to the people’s needs before hardship struck.
Sui’an City, at the heart of the empire, would not suffer much. But the outlying Cezhou region — where winter bit deeper — could not afford neglect.
He would seek Du Jingyi’s counsel as well. Her keen mind might find ways to ease the burden on those farmlands.
If such wisdom could prevent starvation for even a few families each year, it would be worth every effort.
By the time they finished dinner, the sun had set beyond the crimson eaves. The couple bid farewell to her family and returned together to the Duke’s Mansion [a noble residence granted by imperial decree to families of high military or political merit].