A Willing Mistake, My Lady – Chapter 96
by Little PandaWho Is Anhe?
Oh no, she seems angry!
The howling mountain wind swept past in wave after wave through the night. Even huddled inside the carriage, it could be heard loud and clear.
An oil lamp burned inside the carriage, casting a warm yellow glow that illuminated her skin — soft and smooth as jade to the touch. That was, of course, ignoring the injured area.
Shen Hetang warmed her palms over the flame. Once they were no longer cold, she poured medicinal wine into her hand, rubbed her palms together twice, gritted her teeth, and set to work.
“Ah… that hurts a bit!” Jiang Chenyu lay across her lap, covered entirely by a quilt with only her waist exposed. Shen Hetang’s palms pressed and kneaded with firm strength, and the pain knitted her brows together until she could only gasp softly.
“Just a little longer. Work out the bruising now and it’ll heal faster later.” Looking at the slight trembling of the person on her lap, Shen Hetang spoke softly to comfort her. The delicate figure draped over her legs had curves that were unmistakably pronounced, but she didn’t dare let her thoughts wander — not in this freezing cold. Better to get her dressed again quickly.
After sharing a bowl of dough drop soup with the soldiers, she did feel much warmer, and the night’s sleep would be a good one. The enemy prisoners weren’t afforded such treatment. Letting them eat their fill would spell disaster — half a flatbread a day, enough to keep them from starving, and the rest was up to fate.
The small stove in the carriage could boil water, and Jiang Chenyu always kept some warm water stored in her canteen for the group to have something hot to drink.
After resting for one shichen1, Jiang Chenyu’s spirits had improved considerably. Combined with the excitement of seeing Ah Tang, she kept rummaging through their snacks.
“Ah Tang, do you want a candied fruit? There’s also hundred-flower cake, malt sugar, and beef jerky.” Holding her sore waist, she buzzed through the bundles like a little bee. Knowing that local produce was scarce here, she’d brought plenty of snacks.
“Why did you bring so many odds and ends? There’s not much here, sure, but my daily meals are still adequate.” She smiled at the enthusiastic girl.
“Have a candied fruit — they really don’t have those here. Madam thought of everything.” Catching Jiang Chenyu turning to raise an eyebrow at her, she quickly corrected herself.
“That’s more like it.” Jiang Chenyu picked the largest, prettiest plum from a glazed jar, turned, and offered it to her. The sweet-and-sour taste truly brought her entire palate to life.
Before turning in, Shen Hetang stepped out of the carriage and made a round of the camp. Jiang Ning was comforting the cart drivers who had come with the supply convoy — during the fighting, they had sheltered behind the soldiers, and not many had been seriously injured.
She mounted her horse and rode to the rear to check on the enemy prisoners. Bound with hemp rope like grasshoppers on a string, they were strung together in a line, hemmed in by soldiers on both sides.
“Any problems?” she asked, walking up beside Ye Huaiqing.
“None. I’ll keep these men watched tight.” Ye Huaiqing still felt guilty, so he had taken on this duty himself.
“Good. I’ll take over tomorrow during the day.” She left that one sentence and returned to the carriage.
The moon hung large overhead. Everyone was settling down to rest.
Inside the carriage, Jiang Chenyu lay down in her inner robe. The blankets on her cart were thick, so wearing something light was fine. She usually slept in a padded jacket, but tonight Ah Tang would be sleeping beside her, and she wasn’t afraid of anything going wrong.
The oil lamp still burned, her small face visible as she waited quietly for someone to return.
After making a full circuit, Shen Hetang returned to the carriage and found the girl blinking at her in anticipation. She pressed the padded door curtain firmly shut, blew out the lamp, slipped off her shoes and middle garment, and slid under the covers.
The moment she lay down, Jiang Chenyu pressed close, an arm draping over her waist, her tone turning coquettish. “Ah Tang, you were gone so long — didn’t you miss me at all? You couldn’t even bring yourself to write a few extra letters?”
Her fingers roamed restlessly over the firm plane of her waist and abdomen, a honeyed stream of complaints.
Shen Hetang said nothing. In the darkness, her eyes still sought that enchanting, heart-stirring face.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Receiving no reply, she lifted her head to look at her, though she could make out only a silhouette.
Shen Hetang laughed softly — clear and light, pleasant to the ear.
Suddenly she turned on her side, curved a hand around the back of Jiang Chenyu’s neck, and found those petal-soft, sweet lips, pressing her own against them.
The kiss was urgent, growing ever more fervent — no gradual build, only reckless, deepening intensity spiraling beyond control.
“Mm…!” Jiang Chenyu couldn’t quite catch her breath, even as a thrilling current of panic and excitement sent heat flooding through her blood.
She closed her eyes, slipped her hand around Ah Tang’s shoulder and neck, and surrendered to every tangle and chase — fierce and sweet.
After the kiss that had slaked their longing came the gentle, lingering spring rain — soft embraces and light kisses that nourished the heart.
Though neither had spoken words of direct confession, the body always surrendered to one person alone.
She lifted Jiang Chenyu’s wrist and placed it over her own heart, letting her feel the beating.
“Only when you come here does it beat this fast.”
Feeling the vitality beneath her palm, Jiang Chenyu pressed her ear to the spot.
“Only me. No one else allowed.” The corners of her mouth lifted secretly, her heart flooded with honey.
“Mm. There isn’t.”
After three days of hastening their pace, they finally caught sight of the General’s Mansion on the fourth day.
The prisoners of war had been escorted to the designated location, awaiting word from the messenger on how things stood on the other side.
The grain had been sorted by category, properly stored, and placed under guard. When Shen Hetang learned that half the grain had been purchased with Jiang Chenyu’s own silver, her heart ached terribly.
This was no way to live — she provided the manpower and her wife provided the money. Did they owe the old Zhao family or something?
The more she thought about it, the more shortchanged she felt. In the end, she actually marched over to Ye Huaiqing and demanded an IOU.
“What’s the point of me writing an IOU? I can’t repay it.” Ye Huaiqing looked at the unreasonable Shen Hetang, his expression suggesting she had lost her mind.
“I don’t care. It’s the old Zhao family’s debt, so I’m holding you responsible!” Still seething, she snatched the beef jerky right out of Ye Huaiqing’s hand — Jiang Chenyu’s provisions.
“You can only bully me. If you’re so tough, why don’t you go find the one above2?” His snack gone, he thought to himself how petty she was — as if he didn’t have a wife. What he didn’t know yet was that his own wife had been fleeced too.
“I’m not tough. I only come to you.” Shen Hetang wore the face of a shameless rogue — she simply wanted the money.
“Fine, fine, I’m truly terrified of you. When I’ve made my fortune, I’ll pay you back for certain.” Ye Huaiqing agreed to everything just to hasten her departure.
“I’ll remember that. Don’t even think about welshing.” She was casting a net — if Ye Huaiqing wanted to repay, he would find a way through the court. She couldn’t bear to let Jiang Chenyu play the sucker, footing the bill for all these men to lie flat while a woman spent so much silver for nothing.
The day the military grain arrived at Xixing Pass was exactly two days before New Year’s Eve. The grain borrowed from Hongying Stockade hadn’t been touched yet, and combined with the thousands of carts delivered this time, they calculated they could last half a year. The lock that had weighed on her heart for so many days finally lifted, and she felt entirely unburdened.
Wang Ma had lately taken to leaning against the wall, watching the new lady of the house — that fresh-faced girl who couldn’t be found anywhere else in all of Xixing Pass, her cheeks like March peach blossoms, vivid and tender.
She was utterly at odds with the desolate landscape of Xixing Pass; just looking at her seemed to bring a whiff of spring vitality.
When it came to choosing a wife, the Little General far outshone the Old General. Only a beauty like this could be worthy of him.
Beneath Wang Ma’s stolid exterior, her inner monologue was extraordinarily rich. She even began mentally ridiculing Concubine Ru — they were both generals, and the Old General had been far too casual in his choices by comparison.
Shen Hetang had recently discovered that Wang Ma was a face-con3. She smiled at Jiang Chenyu until her face was full of wrinkles. Wait — when Shen Hetang had first arrived, she had been decent-looking too, hadn’t she? How come Wang Ma had never smiled at her until her face crinkled like a chrysanthemum? Was she serving dishes according to the guest or what?
In the spacious courtyard, Jiang Chenyu wore a mist-blue front-buttoning long robe, its cuffs and collar embroidered with colorful albizia flowers and trimmed with a fur collar. Below, she wore a matching printed mamianqun4 — grand yet exquisitely detailed, making Wang Ma fawn over it to no end.
Jiang Chenyu said she would give Wang Ma one too, next time. Wang Ma, thoroughly embarrassed, replied that she couldn’t wear such things.
The two bustled back and forth, preparing the New Year’s Eve dinner.
With the arrival of military rations, the soldiers could finally have a proper New Year. The junior officers each collected their share of grain, and by year’s end they could serve the troops two meat dishes, let them get some oil in their bellies.
What Shen Hetang was really pinning her hopes on, though, was that herd of cattle and sheep. She wondered how the messenger’s errand was going. She refused to believe that none of these Qiang tribesmen had families.
Any family that still had cattle and sheep would trade them to get their people back.
They say a compassionate person cannot lead an army5. She wasn’t someone with an especially hard heart to begin with, but since she sat in this position, she couldn’t afford to be soft.
Even at the border, ravaged by years of war, there was a touch of New Year atmosphere on the thirtieth of the lunar month.
The families who still remained inside the city walls put up spring couplets on every door, seeking good fortune for the coming year.
In truth, there weren’t many common folk left in the city — only a few dozen households. Those with means had all relocated elsewhere.
Wang Ma and Jiang Chenyu together prepared a table full of dishes. Ye-biaoge6 had gone to Hongying Stockade to celebrate the New Year, but Commandant Zhao had nowhere else to go and would join them for the New Year’s Eve dinner.
After finishing her work, Wang Ma returned to her own home. For the New Year’s Eve dinner, it was Shen Hetang and her wife, Zhao Chenlan, Jiang Ning, and Cuiwan — enough to fill a table.
Cuiwan’s injuries had healed after several days of herbal medicine; she looked none the worse for wear.
Jiang Chenyu’s waist bruise had faded its redness and swelling after three days of medicinal wine.
On the eight-immortal table7 sat chicken stewed with dried mushrooms, cabbage stir-fried with cured bacon, yam stewed with spare ribs, braised three delicacies, hot and sour shredded potatoes, crispy fried peanuts, scallion lamb stir-fry, and dried green beans with glass noodles stewed with pork.
A few simple, unpretentious home-cooked dishes, yet in this rare moment of peace on New Year’s Eve, they felt extraordinarily serene.
Jiang Chenyu and Jiang Ning chatted about news from the capital, while Shen Hetang and Zhao Chenlan shared amusing stories from the border, each telling the other things they didn’t know.
“Chenyu, how long are you staying at the border this time? If it’s too long, won’t Anhe start fussing?” As they talked, Jiang Ning thought of the little one. Her mother had been away for so long — would the little thing manage?
“Who’s Anhe?” Shen Hetang keenly sensed that this person was no ordinary matter, and asked in blank confusion.
That remark set Jiang Ning and Cuiwan laughing until they doubled over, leaving her even more bewildered.
“He doesn’t know Anhe?” Jiang Ning laughed so hard she rocked back and forth, not forgetting to stir the pot from the sidelines.
Jiang Chenyu’s face suddenly flushed. This, this, this — she had actually forgotten to tell her something so important! How was she supposed to explain it now?!
Shen Hetang’s gaze turned serious. She turned to look at Jiang Chenyu and asked, “Hmm? Who exactly is this Anhe?”
“She’s… our child. After you left, I found out I was with child. She’s already several months old now. It’s your fault for not sending letters home — otherwise you’d have known I was carrying!” Jiang Chenyu delivered this line as though she had a death wish, then watched Ah Tang’s face turn subtly pale.
Shen Hetang felt as though her ears were ringing. She hadn’t heard what was said. The shock in her eyes — she couldn’t tell if it was delight or fright. Nothing showed on her face, but she alone knew her hands and feet had stopped obeying her.
Jiang Chenyu quickly reached under the table and took her hand. Her fingers were ice cold. She shook them twice, pinching and twisting to rouse her — oh no, she’d apparently upset her.
Footnotes
- A shichen is a traditional Chinese time unit equal to approximately two hours.
- 'The one above' is a colloquial Chinese euphemism for the Emperor, avoiding direct mention of the sovereign.
- 'Face-con' is modern Chinese internet slang for someone obsessed with physical attractiveness — a person who judges others primarily by their looks.
- A traditional Chinese pleated skirt with flat front and back panels and gathered sides, worn during the Ming and Qing dynasties.
- A classic Chinese military adage meaning that a compassionate, softhearted person should not command troops, as military leadership requires tough, pragmatic decisions.
- A pinyin kinship term meaning 'older male maternal cousin'; used here as a familiar reference to Ye Huaiqing.
- A traditional Chinese square dining table named after the Eight Immortals of Daoist mythology, large enough to seat eight people.
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