A Willing Mistake, My Lady – Chapter 84
by Little PandaPreparations for Departure
“Take Me with You?”
After Shen Hetang left, the Emperor stared blankly toward the door, lost in thought for a long while.
After all, the Shen family remained the backbone1 of the Great Qian Dynasty. When danger arose, the Shen family still had to step up. The Emperor leaned back against the dragon throne, his expression weary.
The Emperor was no longer young. The mere thought of the ebb and flow of the battlefield left him exhausted in spirit. Yet he still hesitated over the choice of Crown Prince. The First Prince had been foolish and blundered, forfeiting his right to the position.
The Second Prince’s maternal family had originally kept a low profile, but with the First Prince’s downfall, they were gradually beginning to emerge from the shadows.
By all rights, the Third Prince, born to the Empress, should have been the most suitable candidate—whether by age or by status. But the Empress’s natal family was powerful, with an extensive web of connections, and she herself was a strong-willed woman. The Emperor feared that the empire he had painstakingly built might be handed over to others.
Then there was General Shen’s biaoge2 Ye Huaiqing. The Emperor had known Ye Huaiqing’s mother from an early age, but the Ye family belonged to the Pure Stream Faction3—a household with reputation but no real power.
Moreover, the two had only met a handful of times and shared but a budding fondness, so the Emperor had resolutely chosen the current Empress—for she was the legitimate daughter of the Old Prime Minister, and the current Left Prime Minister was the Old Prime Minister’s star protégé.
But Ye Huaiqing’s mother was a stubborn woman. In a fit of defiance, she had come to serve as a Female Official, and at first had treated the Emperor like thin air, rigid and indifferent.
Yet having a woman he had been fond of appearing before his eyes every day—that was essentially play hard to get4—and over time, the two rekindled their relationship.
Originally, it would have been effortless for the Emperor to take any woman he fancied as a consort or Beauty, but someone had leaked their affair to the Empress.
The Empress, still young and spirited in those days, had schemed to drive a wedge between them. In the end, the Emperor had been unwilling to grant Aunt Ye a consort title, and she had disdained becoming one anyway. The two parted awkwardly, and the Emperor soon found new beauties, rarely thinking of her again.
In the end, all that remained was the news of her death—and a child of uncertain paternity.
The Emperor had hoped the child was his own, but doubt had lingered from the misunderstandings. It was only after later investigation revealed the truth that he gradually accepted the biaoge—but so many years had passed that he could not reopen the Empress’s old accounts for the sake of a dead woman.
The Emperor was not a sentimental man, yet he had ultimately allowed Ye Huaiqing to grow close to the Shen family—whether out of guilt or old affection, he himself did not know.
Though the Empress knew Ye Huaiqing’s identity, the Emperor’s dismissive attitude toward him meant she had never taken him seriously. A wild child with nothing to his name—she had treated him as no more than an extra mouth to feed. There was another reason as well: she had already done something to Aunt Ye, and if she were to move against Ye Huaiqing too, she dared not test the Emperor’s bottom line.
But who could have predicted that during the power struggle between the Empress and the First Prince’s faction, that unremarkable child would carve out his own path, securing a place in the military and forging ties with the Shen family? The Empress could no longer ignore him.
The last scheme had been meant to kill two birds with one stone, yet they had still slipped through. The Shen family, after all, was not so easily toppled. The Empress had never expected to eliminate both rivals in a single stroke.
Moreover, if General Shen could be brought to the Third Prince’s side, that would add a formidable general to their ranks. If not—then kill the donkey after the mill5—the Empress had not dismissed that option either.
For now, the Second Prince’s position was weak, and Ye Huaiqing’s origins were irregular. By age, the Emperor leaned toward the younger Third Prince. So the Empress’s best course was to watch and wait.
Shen Hetang left the Imperial Palace with a heavy heart. She had grown accustomed to two years of comfortable life. The thought of returning to the brutality of war required mental preparation—but besides going back herself, what other option was there?
The Shen family had no one else to rely on, and no new general had risen to prominence in the Great Qian Dynasty. Even if there were capable young officers, none could command the Shen Family Army.
She returned to the Shen Manor with a grave expression. The moment she stepped into the main hall, a rich, savory aroma hit her.
On the table sat two plates of browned plum spare ribs, their rich fragrance laced with a hint of sweet and sour. The glossy red ribs dotted with white sesame seeds looked so appetizing that just seeing them made your mouth water.
“Ah Tang, you’re back? Quick, try the spare ribs I had the kitchen make. It’s a bit cool today, so I had them make extra—no harm in something rich.” Jiang Chenyu glanced left and right, saw that no one else had arrived yet, and sneaked a piping hot rib, blew on it twice, and brought it to her mouth.
“Have one while it’s fresh out of the pot—the texture changes once it cools.” She knew Ah Tang loved sweet and sour spare ribs, so she had specially bought preserved plums6, lending the ribs a plum-like fragrance.
The tender, flavorful meat melted in her mouth—rich but not greasy, the sweet and sour perfectly balanced. In that moment of satisfaction, the oppressive weight on her mood eased considerably.
After feeding her, Jiang Chenyu went back to waiting, as if nothing had happened, for the rest of the household to arrive so they could start the meal.
Only her eyes sparkled with a smile as she watched her. At that moment, Shen Hetang suddenly felt that going to the Border was, after all, a way to protect her family. If she did not stand at the front and hold the enemy beyond the passes, how could the family behind her live in peace?
So be it. She would go.
Jiang Chenyu sensed acutely that something was on her mind. She could tell that Shen Hetang was not as at ease since returning from the palace. She glanced at Ah Tang a couple of times, deciding to ask once they were back in their room.
The evening meal was lavish—a table full of delicacies to satisfy every palate. Ever since household management had been handed to the Young Mistress, the family’s standard of living had improved noticeably.
Though the Shen family was not short of silver, Madam Shen had never concerned herself with seasonal festivals, meals, or clothing. Nanny Gui, after all, was not a master of the household—there were matters where she could not make decisions on her own and could only follow the rules.
So with a new head of household, the manor seemed to have gained a new vitality. Greater care was taken with food, clothing, shelter, and transport, to everyone’s satisfaction—from top to bottom.
After washing up that night, the two of them lay in bed. Shen Hetang weighed how to broach the news of her departure for the Border. There was no set timeline—she did not know when she would be able to return.
Right now, she absolutely could not bring Jiang Chenyu along. Never mind that the environment could not compare to the capital—with the current danger and chaos, she could not let her follow.
She looked at Jiang Chenyu with reluctance and difficulty, stroking her still-damp hair.
“Just tell me. What’s happened to make you so conflicted?” Those beautiful peach-blossom eyes now held a probing gaze.
“I need to go back. The Border isn’t at peace, and I don’t know how long it’ll be before I can return.” Shen Hetang reached out, pulled her into her arms, and murmured against her shoulder.
When Jiang Chenyu heard she was going to war, worry filled her eyes—but she did not want Ah Tang to see her concern.
Her fingers gently traced the scar at the small of Ah Tang’s back—about a palm in length, yet thin as a thread. What tremendous luck it must have taken to come away with only this one light scar.
On the battlefield, swords and spears had no eyes. How could she not worry?
“I don’t want you to go. Or let me go with you.” She knew in her heart it was impossible, but she wanted to be stubborn anyway.
“If you could shrink, I’d tuck you into a pouch and carry you along.” Shen Hetang tugged the quilt over them both.
In the third or fourth month, with the charcoal basins removed, the room could still be cold at times.
“How long will you be gone? When do you leave?” Jiang Chenyu clasped her hands around her neck, pressing close against her as she asked.
“In seven days. If all goes well, maybe in a year or two I’ll be able to come back for you.” Her fingers rhythmically combed through Jiang Chenyu’s smooth, long hair.
“I won’t see you for a year or two?” Jiang Chenyu jerked her head up, her face full of grievance, eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“We can write letters. Or I’ll sneak back to see you!” Shen Hetang curved her lips up in comfort.
“Better not. I’ve heard that returning to the capital without an imperial decree is a capital offense. No matter how much I miss you, I won’t let you take such a risk just to see me a few times.”
Jiang Chenyu’s obedient, understanding demeanor made her heart go soft.
“Sigh. I haven’t even left yet and I already miss you. What am I going to do?” The thought of being alone in that bleak, frozen land made her crave this soft, warm beauty all the more.
“Let me disguise myself as a soldier and go with you.” Hearing her reluctance, Jiang Chenyu brought up the old idea again, still harboring a thread of hope.
“I’m going to war. How could I bear to let you suffer along with me? Once things stabilize, I’ll bring you over. Not now—it’s too dangerous!” she explained patiently.
“Fine, then. I won’t go be a drag oil bottle7 for you. Just remember to come get me soon!” Jiang Chenyu pouted her pink lips stubbornly.
“Alright. As soon as things settle down over there, I’ll come for you.” She agreed readily, though in her heart she had no idea how long it would take for things to settle.
As they entwined, lapels loosened, pale, tender curves flickering in and out of view.
Jiang Chenyu took the initiative, capturing her red, lustrous lips, kissing her again and again. The thought that in a few days she would leave again—this time for who knew how long—stripped away her reserve. She kissed her boldly, deeply, tangling with her lips and tongue, leaving no gap between them.
From the corner of her eye, Shen Hetang caught a glimpse of a slender waist and curving hips. Her fingers found their way to that waist unthinkingly, trailing slowly downward.
Like petals soaked in spring water—wet, slick, and soft.
Jiang Chenyu’s liquid eyes shut tight, her waist instinctively flinching away.
Seeing the faint sign of her trying to escape, Shen Hetang toyed with her casually.
Grinding like ink on an inkstone, slow and fine—then striking with full force when she least expected it…!
The beauty, her expression alluring, her face flushed like peach blossoms, leaned over her, trembling and gasping softly, her voice tempting one to tangle with her even more shamelessly!
The moonlight was hazy. Where wind rose, rain followed.
The next day, Jiang Chenyu spun as busy as a little top.
She sorted every piece of everyday clothing by thickness with meticulous care. Out at the Border with no one to look after her, and busy as she would be—if she did not prepare everything thoroughly, there would be no way to replace whatever was missing.
She also packed extra white cloth and cotton. Though Shen Hetang had already prepared her own menstrual cloths, just in case, Jiang Chenyu packed plenty of clean cotton fabric as well.
For nutrition, she gathered dried meat, red dates, dried preserves—and even tracked down milk curd, butter, honey, and dried fruits.
In total, she packed four large bundles and even bought three or four pairs of cotton boots.
Watching her bent over her packing, Shen Hetang almost thought she was going on a pleasure trip.
“There’s a nanny at the Border who handles daily life. You don’t need to pack so much,” Shen Hetang explained, watching her bustle about.
“What could possibly be available out there? I’ve even prepared all the everyday medicine pills you’ll need. I bought them at a high price straight from the pharmacy shopkeeper’s hands, so you’d better keep them safe and not lose them.” Jiang Chenyu instructed her with utmost seriousness.
Looking at the medicine pills, sorted and annotated, filling an entire large pouch, she curved her eyes and smiled radiantly. “Alright. I’ll do everything as Madam says.”
This time, she could take 20,000 soldiers from the capital, collect another 50,000 from the Military Reclamation Farming8 area on the way, and rendezvous with the 50,000 troops already at the Border—that would give her the bulk of her forces.
Her only worry was whether there would be enough food for so many.
Though all 50,000 troops had been assigned to Military Reclamation Farming, the land there had been wasteland to begin with. Even in the first year, the harvest had barely been enough to feed the farmers themselves. Who knew how much surplus remained now?
The Emperor’s provisions were said to be enough to feed an army of over 100,000 for one year. But what about after that year?
Well, she could not rely entirely on him. She would go to the Border first and figure out the rest from there…!
Footnotes
- A classical Chinese metaphor derived from a stabilizing pillar standing in the midstream of a river, meaning the central, indispensable support of a nation.
- An older male cousin on the maternal side, commonly used as a term of address between maternal cousins in Chinese families.
- A traditional Chinese political category referring to upright scholar-officials who emphasize moral integrity and reputation over practical political power.
- A classical Chinese military and political strategy idiom meaning 'to capture by deliberately letting loose,' commonly used in romance to describe feigning disinterest to increase attraction.
- A well-known Chinese idiom describing ruthless pragmatism: to eliminate someone who has served their purpose, once they are no longer needed.
- Dried preserved plums, a traditional Chinese snack made by curing plums with sugar and salt, imparting a distinctive sweet-tart flavor.
- A derogatory Chinese term for a burden or unwanted dependent, often referring to a child from a previous marriage; here used humorously by Jiang Chenyu about herself.
- A military-agricultural system where soldiers farm land during peacetime to supply their own provisions.
0 Comments