Late at night, the sky hung dark and somber, while a chilly autumn wind shook the tender pomegranate branches outside the window.
The recently planted pomegranate trees trembled their leaves and branches, standing resolutely in the wind.
At the second quarter of the yin hour, Wei Qin, neatly dressed, lifted the bed curtains and bent down to whisper something to the person huddled under the covers.
Jiang Yinyue, groggy and confused, was helped to sit up. Her dark hair was a messy tangle, and her face was full of reluctance.
Having grown used to freedom in her husband’s home, she had almost forgotten the rules of morning greetings.
The only family rule her father had ever imposed on her was morning greetings, but ever since returning from Yangzhou, she had never done them on time, and her father had never scolded her.
She took the hot towel Wei Qin handed her and wiped her face haphazardly before slipping into her embroidered shoes and heading to the bathing chamber to wash up. “You’re more considerate than your own daughter, as my husband.”
Wei Qin glanced at the water clock before walking behind her. He took out a toothbrush from a bamboo tube, dipped it in fine salt, and personally cleaned her teeth for her.
After gargling with a gurgle-gurgle, Jiang Yinyue checked her clean, neat pearly whites in the bronze mirror. She pulled a handkerchief from Wei Qin’s sleeve to wipe the corner of her mouth, then hurried behind the screen to change clothes without delay.
Wei Qin sat on the blackwood couch to wait, slowly rubbing his fingertips. He showed no tension from his first day of duty, nor any panic at the prospect of facing the cabinet heavyweights.
When the rustling sounds reached his ears, a pair of phoenix eyes beneath the black gauze hat turned slightly, landing on the nightgown draped over the edge of the screen.
The water-blue sash on the moon-white satin had been wrapped around his palm just last night.
Last night, the autumn wind had blown the treetops, scattering leaves in red, yellow, orange, green, and every shade in between, painting the bleakest scene with the most vibrant splendor.
The deeper the autumn chill, the grander the vista.
A morning breeze tugged at their robes as the little couple walked together. Jiang Song, who was feeding the birds, snorted. “Sleeping until the sun is high in the sky—the lazy bird has no swan ambitions.”
Jiang Yinyue huffed left, then twisted her head to huff right, grumbling softly to Wei Qin about her father’s unfairness.
Wei Qin, who usually took her side, did not do so this time, which only made the little lady angrier.
She figured she was just a magpie bridge, connecting this father-in-law and son-in-law pair.
Her father’s gaze on his son-in-law brimmed with appreciation and comfort—had he ever looked at her that way?
“Playing favorites.”
Jiang Song didn’t hide his favoritism. He chuckled and clapped his son-in-law on the shoulder, inviting him to ride to court together.
“Your son-in-law prefers to walk.”
Jiang Mansion was not far from the palace gates; walking there and back was no trouble.
Warm laughter rippled in Jiang Song’s eyes. “For your first time at morning court, as your father-in-law, I must lend some prestige to my fine son-in-law.”
Unable to get a word in, Jiang Yinyue circled the two men once.
Fine. No one paid her any mind.
Both father-in-law and son-in-law towered over her by a head, making her feel like a puffed-up lazy bird looking up at two ambitious swans.
She missed her brother. He would never ignore her like this.
With his son-in-law at his side, Jiang Song’s gaze stuck fast without a blink. He even affectionately linked arms with him as they left the mansion side by side.
“Old swan.”
Hearing his daughter’s nickname for him, Jiang Song, seated in the ornate carriage, was unperturbed. “Little lazy bird, watch the house.”
Inside the swaying carriage, Jiang Song held a bowl of bird’s nest, leisurely appraising Wei Qin across from him.
An outstanding new noble, remarkably handsome—his own eye for talent was as sharp as ever.
However, Jiang Song raised his brows with a touch of scrutiny. Even the most exceptional new nobles would appear somewhat ill at ease in their first cabinet meeting, but the young man before him remained as composed as ever, as if accustomed to nobles and generals, tempered with a seasoned mindset.
“Are you nervous, my son-in-law?”
Wei Qin set down the porcelain spoon he had used to stir his almond congee. “Not really.”
“The cabinet brims with talent—tigers, leopards, and wolves abound. The deputy prime minister is acting as chief minister; you can consult him on matters, but never bare your heart.”
“Your son-in-law will remember.”
At morning court, the Shunren Emperor listened to the censors’ remonstrations, mostly about the misconduct of noble sons, which held little interest for him. He absentmindedly swept his gaze over the young officials, his eyes locking onto Wei Qin at the rear.
This young man carried echoes of Jiang Song in his youth—steadfast and upright, never fawning or biased.
A malleable talent.
After whispering with the eunuch by his side, the imperial eunuch nodded respectfully. After court adjourned, he scurried up behind Wei Qin, who was about to leave the hall. “Lord Wei of the Cabinet, please wait. Follow this slave to the Imperial Study.”
Wei Qin turned his gaze, a faint frost at the upturned corners of his eyes.
Beside a massive incense burner wafting musk, the Shunren Emperor had heard opinions from the crown prince, deputy prime minister, and others on the candidate for minister of revenue. He smiled at Wei Qin in the corner. “What is your esteemed view, my dear subject?”
“This minister is humbled.”
“Speak freely.” The Shunren Emperor tapped the imperial desk. “Come to Our side.”
Under several watching gazes, Wei Qin steadily circled the desk and stood beside the dragon throne, facing the crown prince and the key ministers of the six ministries and cabinet.
“In this minister’s humble opinion, the minister of rites is proficient in mathematics. During his local postings, he also handled accounts for granary storage, land reclamation, and tax levies—making him a suitable choice.”
The minister of rites paused in stunned silence, stroking his beard.
Precedents existed for a minister holding two posts, and the minister of rites outranked and had more prestige than the other nominees.
Wei Xichen stepped forward. “If we appoint the minister of rites as minister of revenue concurrently, it would certainly be well-deserved, but…”
The crown prince shifted tone, eloquently laying out his own insights.
Clear and measured, his words made the minister of rites stroke his beard again.
It was just a flowery way to push his crony from the Chamberlain’s Office. Officials there followed the crown prince’s lead; if the revenue post fell to them, it would add wings to a tiger for His Highness.
The Shunren Emperor smiled. “Both the minister of rites and the deputy chamberlain are capable candidates. Allow Us to consider further. Would it be too taxing for the minister of rites to helm two ministries?”
The minister of rites declared loudly, “This old minister is willing to spill blood and brains for the realm!”
The minister of personnel, head of the six ministries, was slightly surprised. Out of the seventeen nominees he had put forward, His Majesty had singled out only the minister of rites and the deputy chamberlain, clearly endorsing Wei Qin and the crown prince’s suggestions. Yet everyone could tell His Majesty leaned toward Wei Qin’s proposal.
The minister of personnel glanced at the youth by the dragon throne, whose gaze met the crown prince’s intentionally or not.
A faint air of confrontation simmered.
After conferring with his maternal grandfather, the crown prince—intent on pushing the deputy chamberlain for revenue minister—unconsciously tightened his hands clasped before him.
Wei Qin’s gaze revealed a depth of scheming he no longer hid.
An enemy of the Eastern Palace.
Back in Yangzhou, when they had worked together, he had never sensed this ambition in Wei Qin.
His edge was sharpening.
That evening, as splendid colorful clouds painted the dusk sky, Jiang Yinyue, having bathed early, wrapped herself in a long cloth towel and approached the wardrobe. Amid the vibrant brocade dresses, she pulled out a loose, plain mid-layer robe.
Full of curiosity about Wei Qin’s personal items, she mustered the nerve to slip it on and stand before the bronze mirror.
Hong Mei’s voice came from outside the door. “Miss, shall this servant wring out your hair?”
“No need. Sister, guard the door for me. I don’t want to be disturbed.”
What about the young master? Hong Mei wondered, but the tall, refined man was already approaching along the outer corridor. Her question caught in her throat.
Wei Qin passed her and pushed open the door.
With the creak of the door opening and closing, Jiang Yinyue, who had been admiring herself in the bronze mirror, froze like a wooden chicken.
Once she snapped out of it, she scurried about like an ant on a hot pan.
Seeing his wife barefoot on the floor, Wei Qin strode forward, wrapped his arm around her waist, and lifted her upright, carrying her to the nearest blackwood tea table.
The loose robe barely covered her legs, so she curled her feet back, as if “folding” herself would hide her embarrassment.
“Cold.”
When he set her on the tabletop, she tried to rise in a hurry, her hands climbing to his nape.
Getting delicate now? She hadn’t minded her soles getting cold while running around the room barefoot moments ago.
Winter had yet to arrive, and Jiang Mansion had no underfloor heating; the floor was far chillier than the table, seeping with cold.
Wei Qin knelt on one knee and wiped her little feet with a fresh handkerchief from his sleeve. He watched her try to cover up by pressing her knees together, her ten toes curling and uncurling to mask her inner panic and awkwardness.
The robe’s hem barely reached above her knees, exposing her straight, even calves dangling off the table edge, gleaming with delicate luster.
Soft as if it could be pierced by a puff of air.
Wei Qin straightened, pinching her feverish cheeks. “If Miss has no clothes to wear, you can tell me. No need to steal mine.”
A suspicious faint trace curved at the man’s lips—subtle, almost unnoticeable, yet in Jiang Yinyue’s eyes, it carried a teasing hint.
“Got addicted to wearing it, huh.”
“Who got addicted?” The little lady, with no defense, puffed up indignantly. She shouldn’t have let her curiosity run wild. “I just wanted to imitate the county princess and dress as a man.”
Mentioning Cui Shihan, Wei Qin pinched her soft, springy little face again. “Learn something good.”
Having salvaged a bit of ground, Jiang Yinyue coughed. With mock seriousness, she said, “Father has plenty of new clothes in the wardrobe, gathering dust. Next time, I’ll wear his instead of yours.”
Wei Qin immediately nodded solemnly in approval. “This one suits you well.”
Having deftly shifted the awkwardness, the woman—who had regained half her composure—swung her little legs unconsciously, nearly wagging an invisible fox tail.
Clever little thing.
Wei Qin’s heart softened at the touch. He ruffled Jiang Yinyue’s head, threading his fingertips through her satin-smooth black hair, scrutinizing her… and the robe.
His gaze swept over the prominent swells nestled at the overlapped collar.
Realizing it, Jiang Yinyue hugged her chest protectively, but Wei Qin gently pried her arms away, one by one.
“Can’t look?”
What was he saying? Jiang Yinyue’s mind buzzed, but as she tried to cover again, he pinned her hands behind her back, arching her body forward.
With her hands forced behind, she twisted her shoulders, becoming a bow drawn taut, ready to loose.
Wei Qin glanced down, then slowly leaned in.
Jiang Yinyue even felt his breath through the ill-fitting loose robe.
His high nose bridge hovered just a coin’s width away, tracing that graceful curve.
His thin lips landed on the woman’s extended neck.
The flickering candlelight danced shadows across her fine jade neck, casting the man’s profile in dim outline.
Jiang Yinyue clenched her fingers behind her back to stifle a whimper.
“Wei Qin… Wei…”
“I’m here.”
Wei Qin nuzzled one side of her neck with his nose tip, his lips sensing the pulse quicken beneath.
Swift as lightning, surging like wild waves.
The hand in her hair tightened slightly, forcing her to arch back further, presenting an alluring curve for him.
Fortunately, Jiang Yinyue’s waist was supple enough to withstand such kneading and bending.
Whose ragged breaths first disordered their heartbeats, neither knew.
A ring of teeth marks now marred that jade-white neck.
Unable to endure the “torment” any longer, Jiang Yinyue straightened forcefully and yanked free her reddened wrists.
“Young master, the master requests your presence.”
Hong Mei’s report interrupted the pair in the room.
Wei Qin paused for a moment before humming an acknowledgment toward the door.