Mama Dou had no wish to stir up any trouble now that the household was preparing to move. Otherwise, it would disturb Madam Wei in the neighboring courtyard and perhaps delay the auspicious moving date — an omen best avoided in a noble household.
Du Jingyi understood her meaning at once. Her lips curved in a faint smile, and she said nothing more.
Two days later, the sky darkened early, heavy clouds pressing low. The wind outside carried the damp chill of snow. One after another, lamps were lit across the East Courtyard, soft light flickering through the latticed windows. By the time Shang Ji returned, snow had already crusted on his shoulders and boots, and the cold had seeped deep into his bones.
Instead of entering the main hall immediately, the general went straight to the side room. After all, he had ridden through half the province in wind and snow — he couldn’t very well face his wife covered in dust and frost. With that thought, he began washing up carefully, his broad back faintly visible through the thin screen as steam curled up into the air.
The sound of running water drifted into the main chamber, stirring Du Jingyi from her slumber.
Lately, she had been sleeping more and more. Whether it was the winter drowsiness or the subtle changes in her body, she could hardly keep her eyes open through the day. Sometimes, she would wake only for meals before drifting back into dreams again.
Mama Dou had assured her that such weariness was normal, so Du Jingyi used it as an excuse to rest as much as she pleased. No one in Xitang Courtyard dared to speak otherwise.
To outsiders, it was said that the Young Madam was recuperating from an illness. No one questioned it. Ever since she returned from the Du family last month, she had not left the courtyard. In fact, every master of the East Courtyard was said to be “ill” — a convenient curtain to hide what must not be revealed too soon.
But the more their servants tried to cover it up, the more suspicious it appeared to outsiders.
The ones most anxious were those living in the North Courtyard — the third branch of the family. Their residence was closest to the East Courtyard, and with more than a dozen people packed inside, even turning around was difficult. The rumor of “illness” spreading from the East Courtyard terrified them.
If they were to catch it, how could they enjoy a peaceful New Year?
So every day, they secretly prayed for the East Courtyard to move out quickly — perhaps then they could use the excuse of overcrowding to move in themselves.
A petty, wishful plan — but one that only deepened Madam Wei’s suspicions.
Though she knew Du Jingyi and her people were feigning illness, she could not discern the reason.
But Du Jingyi had no time for such idle thoughts.
When she woke, she rubbed her eyes and murmured drowsily, “Is the General back?”
Yingtao, who had been tending the incense burner, hurried over. She gently propped a pillow behind Du Jingyi’s back before answering respectfully,
“Yes, Young Madam. The General has returned. He’s washing in the side room. I believe he’s nearly finished.”
Du Jingyi smiled faintly. Shang Ji was always swift in his movements — he could bathe faster than one could finish a cup of tea — yet for all his haste, he was never careless. Yingtao, who had long served in this courtyard, knew his habits well.
Sure enough, after she helped Du Jingyi rinse her mouth and drink a few sips of warm water, the door slid open with a quiet creak.
The man who stepped in was already freshened, his hair still damp but no longer icy. The faint scent of cold wind and cedar clung to his robe. Beneath the soft glow of the lamps, his features appeared sharper, more heroic than when he’d left half a month ago.
The long journey through wind and snow had been harsh; fearing to delay matters, he hadn’t dared return sooner.
Du Jingyi’s eyes brightened at the sight of him — yet the next moment, her nose prickled inexplicably, and tears slipped down her cheeks like beads from a broken string.
Shang Ji’s eyes widened. He strode forward quickly, voice filled with concern.
“What’s wrong? Are you unwell?”
His palm pressed gently to her forehead — it was slightly warm. And at this hour, should she not have already dined? Why was she still lying down?
His anxious tone tugged at Du Jingyi’s heart. She blinked away her tears and murmured softly, “I’m not sick, truly. I’ve just been… a little emotional lately — laughing and crying without reason. Mama Dou says it’s normal.”
Shang Ji frowned, unconvinced.
“Yingtao,” he ordered in a firm tone, “go summon Doctor Guo from Bencaotang [herbal medicine hall] to examine Madam at once.”
Yingtao froze, eyes darting nervously to her mistress. They had worked so hard to keep the matter concealed — calling a doctor now would ruin everything.
Sensing her hesitation, Du Jingyi reached out and tugged lightly at Shang Ji’s sleeve. “There’s no need. It’s nothing serious.” Then, turning to Yingtao, she added gently, “Yingtao, go down first. I have something to say to the General.”
“Yes, Young Madam.”
Yingtao’s eyes curved in a knowing smile. She bowed and withdrew. The General had been away for many days; surely, the Madam wished to share something in private. As she left, she whispered to Danruo to prepare fine dishes and warm wine — tonight was worthy of celebration.
Her cheerful steps faded beyond the screen, and Shang Ji watched her go, faint puzzlement crossing his eyes. He hadn’t been gone that long — yet everyone in Xitang Courtyard seemed strangely joyful.
When they were alone, he turned back to Du Jingyi.
“You’re pretending to be ill again,” he said slowly, “because of Madam Wei, aren’t you?”
Du Jingyi blinked, then nodded — only to shake her head a moment later.
That made him frown. “What does that mean?”
“I’m feigning illness,” she said, smiling, “but I’m also truly not feeling well. So I both nod and shake my head.”
Her teasing tone eased the tension in the room, and Shang Ji couldn’t help but sigh. “Unwell? Where exactly?”
She pursed her lips, pretending to think. “I don’t know… perhaps you should guess, General.”
He was taken aback by her playful tone, then said, half serious, half uncertain, “Is it your stomach? I’ll tell the kitchen to bring you a bowl of brown sugar water [a traditional remedy used to relieve menstrual discomfort]. It helps when women’s monthly cycles are irregular.”
For a moment, Du Jingyi simply stared at him, surprised — then she laughed. “General, how did you know that?”
“I once saw my third uncle prepare it himself for my aunt when we were stationed at the border,” he replied honestly, scratching his neck.
This time, when he mentioned the Gu family, his tone held neither grief nor resentment — only a calm simplicity, as if the old wounds had begun to fade.
That, too, made Du Jingyi’s smile soften. But she soon shook her head.
“General, you misunderstand. I haven’t had my period for almost two months.”
Shang Ji froze.
No period for two months? His first thought was that her Qi and blood were depleted — but her color looked good, her spirit calm. Slowly, the meaning sank in.
His eyes widened — confusion giving way to disbelief, and then dawning joy.
“Are you…” His voice faltered. “Are you pregnant?”
Du Jingyi smiled, her eyes glistening like rippling water beneath lamplight. She nodded gently.
“I’ve been feeling unwell for some time, so I asked Mama Dou to find a reliable physician. The doctor confirmed that I’m nearly two months along. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I feared gossip might spoil matters — so I waited until today.”
For a long moment, Shang Ji could only stare at her, the warmth of her words settling into his heart like spring sunlight melting snow.
Outside, the cold wind howled softly against the windows — yet within the Xitang Courtyard, it felt as though spring had quietly arrived.