Chapter 114: The Kiss

Shen Xin's branch packed through the night. Most startling of all—before leaving, they forced Old Madam Shen to divide the household before the clan in broad daylight.
When Shen Xin and Luo Xueyan were summoned to court, Shen Miao's quarrel with Old Madam Shen at the gate had reached Shen Xin's ears. He was furious beyond bearing. The timing of this kick while they were down was perfect—no pretense of face left. Luo Xueyan was angrier still at her own blindness—she had treated that pack of scoundrels with a true heart.
Stripped of command, Shen Xin still had nerve. When he dug in his heels, nine oxen could not pull him back. The clan head could not arrive in time—but clansmen came. Old General Shen had hoped this family would live in harmony. In the end it shattered.
Old Madam Shen brought out the shrewish arts she had used as a street singer and seized more than half of Old General Shen's house and fields. Shen Miao did not stop her. Years of poor management had made those shops and lands yield far less than before—keeping them would only drag. Besides, they were bound for Xiaochun City. Such things were useless.
Shen Xin was not short of silver. The emperor's yearly rewards piled high. Old Madam Shen had thought the household ledgers had been cleaned of every trace of Shen Xin's money—yet at the last moment Shen Miao produced another book from nowhere. It listed clearly, year by year, the silver Shen Xin had paid into the public purse from his own pocket.
Before the clan, nothing could be denied. Old Madam Shen had to spit some back. Shen Miao's thinking was simple: whatever could be recovered—even if Shen Xin and Luo Xueyan scorned such trifles—disgusting Old Madam Shen was worth the trouble.
Old Madam Shen was indeed "disgusted" into illness. Chen Ruoqiu was furious too. Ren Wanyun had washed her hands of the matter. Chen Ruoqiu ran the house—and silver was already tight before Shen Xin clawed back a portion. The slightest future trouble and Old Madam Shen would vent on her.
Shen Yue was angry as well. These days she had watched Chen Ruoqiu worn ragged over money. The "aloof and proud" temper Shen Yue had been raised in was changing. Once she had looked down on silver; now she wanted to fight for her share. Before the clan she could not speak plainly. She looked at Shen Miao with false concern. "Fifth Sister—who knows when you'll return. I hear Xiaochun City lacks goods. If food and clothing run short, that would be terrible. Better take more silver."
Every word mocked the bitter frontier. Luo Xueyan was about to explode—but Shen Miao smiled lightly. "True. But prices in Ding are high too. Without His Majesty's rewards, Second Sister should not spend as freely as before." Her gaze fell on Shen Yue's wrist. "After all—Father won't be sending you bracelets anymore."
Shen Yue froze and looked at the bracelet on her wrist. Her face flushed crimson. That bracelet was none other than one of Shen Xin's rewards. Year after year his gifts went to the public purse—and Shen Yue had picked fine pieces from them. She had just mocked Shen Miao's exile—only to have Shen Miao say outright the bracelet was Shen Xin's. A public slap.
Yet the bracelet was precious. Shen Yue could not bear to remove it and return it.
Shen Miao seemed to read her mind and smiled. "Sister need not return it. Gifts given are never taken back. Who knows… whether there will ever be such fine bracelets again."
Now even silent Shen Wan's face darkened. Shen Miao meant Shen Wan could never win such rewards on his own merit. In official life he would never reach where Shen Xin had stood.
He pulled a long face, gave Shen Miao a cold look, and said to Chen Ruoqiu and Shen Yue: "We're going." He left without another glance at Shen Miao.
Shen Xin had left the capital; his command was gone. The false brotherhood of the past need not be performed. Shen Wan never looked twice at people without use.
Shen Gui bowed to Shen Xin with smug satisfaction. "Eldest Brother—your younger brother takes his leave." Sleeves swept; he walked off with something like swagger. Concubine Wan hurried after with Shen Dongling, bowing low as she had for decades—unchanged since the change at Caiyun Court.
Shen Gui could not hold his temper. He climbed by flattery; in learning he could not match his son Shen Yuan; in character he was less tough than Shen Wan; heartless—forget past suffering the moment he tasted sweetness. Hardly worth fear.
Only Shen Qiu raged: "What kind of people are these!"
Shen Miao smiled and did not answer. Shen Wan and Chen Ruoqiu could wait. But Shen Gui's branch—within two years Shen Yuanbai would die of smallpox. Shen Gui had already been given Ren Wanyun's infertility drug. He would never father another child. With wealth, power, and beauty—no heir. Of the three unfilial acts, none is worse than having no posterity. When that day came, Old Madam Shen would urge both sons to produce heirs. Did Chen Ruoqiu think she could rest easy then?
Villains would grind villains. Leave this rotten mess for the Shen house to sort out themselves.
……
When news of Shen Xin's retreat to Xiaochun City reached Prince Ding Fu Xiuyi, Emperor Wenhui had already approved it.
At this moment Fu Xiuyi could say nothing more. The more he spoke, the more suspicion he would raise. Yet Shen Xin's sudden move puzzled him. He saw clearly: for years Shen Xin had looked a blunt warrior on the surface, yet he was no impulsive man. Losing the tally might anger him—but he would not the next day rush a memorial and leave the capital.
Involuntarily Fu Xiuyi remembered Shen Yuan's warning.
"Your Highness—do not underestimate Fifth Sister Shen in my house."
Only that one line. At the time Fu Xiuyi had not taken it to heart. Now, for some reason, it floated up again. Had Shen Miao pushed Shen Xin to this? But why would a pampered young lady of Ding choose a cold northwest post of her own will?
Fu Xiuyi sensed something wrong without naming it—only that events should not have unfolded this way.
An adviser asked: "Is Your Highness troubled over the Great General? Though matters changed, the Shen army is scattered and the tally reclaimed. The Great General matters little now. Your Highness may act freely."
Fu Xiuyi gathered his wandering thoughts and answered lightly. Shen Xin's deviation from plan was small. He had never been a crucial piece. If any piece mattered, it had been when Shen Miao loved him—then she might have been used. Something later had scattered that love and cost him the chance to pull the Shen house onto his boat.
Still he breathed easier. To marry Shen Miao—even with Shen troops—would have been shame before the court. Fu Xiuyi's pride would not tolerate that stain. Now those hypotheticals vanished with the Shen family's departure. He said: "These days—recruit more men."
The adviser paused, then bowed assent.
Fu Xiuyi looked away. The game had begun. To seize the realm under heaven—the shortest path was to gather more talent.
……
Shen Xin left the capital early the next morning.
It was still dark. He slipped away in secret. First, so colleagues with ties would not be forced to see him off—open farewell would be open defiance of Wenhui. The emperor's heart was capricious; wrath might spread. Second, Xiaochun City lay mountains and rivers from Ding—early departure meant earlier arrival.
Even at full gallop, the journey would take more than half a year.
Though the Shen army was gone and only the vanguard remained, Shen Xin kept private loyal troops. Shen Qiu's men, Mo Qing, and A'zhi—enough to face danger. The road went smoothly. At first Luo Xueyan and Shen Xin feared Shen Miao's delicate frame could not bear such travel—that she would fall ill midway. Shen Miao never once complained of hardship. Shen Xin praised her again and again: "Jiaojiao is truly my daughter. Such grit—which girl in Ding can match?"
Luo Xueyan rolled her eyes at him—and felt guilt toward Shen Miao deepen. A girl raised in silk, now trudging mountains and rivers, eating every bitterness.
Jingzhe leaned on the carriage curtain. First long journey—everything was wonder. Now a bird in the sky, now a hare in the woods—she cried out in surprise. Seeing Shen Miao's calm face, she asked curiously: "Miss—why aren't you excited? We never see such things in the city."
At that Gu Yu tapped Shen Miao's cheek and tested: "Miss looks as if she has no regret at all."
Luo Xueyan in the carriage started.
To leave a homeland of more than ten years for a place never heard of—Xiaochun City could not rival Ding's splendor. Strange land, strange people. Any young girl would show longing and reluctance. Shen Miao had been calm throughout—sometimes even light.
Light? What was light about leaving home?
Feeling Luo Xueyan's gaze, Shen Miao paused, then smiled and looked at the scenery sliding past the window. "Father, Mother, and Brother are all beside me. What is there to miss? Staying in Ding without kin—that was never home either."
Luo Xueyan's heart ached. This journey home had shown the ugly faces of that great Shen family. All these years they had left Shen Miao among them thinking she was well. Now it looked like a cosmic joke. Shen Miao had never taken those people for family—or she would not speak so.
She drew Shen Miao into her arms, guilty. "Right. Jiaojiao will stay with Father, Mother, and Brother from now on. No one will bully you."
Shen Miao leaned against Luo Xueyan and lowered her eyes, hiding a trace of coldness.
Leaving home on a lonely road—was that new? In her past life she had gone to Qin as a hostage. Mountains and rivers—she had walked much of it alone. She brought trusted maids; how many died in a foreign land? The scenery then was like now—already blurred, yet the feeling at that moment remained sharp. From Ding to Qin, from Qin back to Ding—both roads had been desolate. She thought she served the greater good for the people. She did not know how laughable and clumsy she had seemed in others' eyes.
Now she did not leave alone. When she returned, she would not return alone either.
The mountain road stretched on. Before they knew it, night fell. On the mountain road there was no inn—only a farmer's house. Fortunately the family were warm by nature and received them kindly, cooking many dishes.
Shen Xin and his party dared not drink lest they delay the next day's march. Only Shen Miao—whether her mood had lifted or the farmer's plum blossom wine was sweet enough to intoxicate—drank several cups until peach color rose on her cheeks.
"Jiaojiao—how did you drink so much?" Luo Xueyan had not noticed at first. When she saw clearly she was shocked. Shen Miao propped her cheek, drowsy. Luo Xueyan hurried to feel her forehead.
"The young lady probably didn't know how strong this wine is," the farmer's wife laughed. "Our home-brewed plum wine tastes sweet—but the afterkick is fierce. Our girls often drink too much and end up drunk. Sleep it off and there's no headache tomorrow. Madam, don't worry."
Luo Xueyan relaxed. Shen Qiu found Shen Miao's drunken look amusing. "Didn't know Sister could get drunk. How funny."
This time home, Shen Miao had been steady and gentle—so mature Shen Qiu sometimes felt she was the elder sister. He missed the old Shen Miao—willful and ill-mannered, but at least a girl's temper. Now this sight felt familiar.
"Stinking boy," Shen Xin kicked Shen Qiu. "Your sister's drunk and you still tease!"
Shen Qiu stuck out his tongue and played afraid. The family and the farmers ate hot and happy—where was the "grief of exile"?
Shen Miao propped her chin with both hands and squinted at the scene. The plum wine was strong—but she was still somewhat clear. Today she was truly happy. Everything followed the plan. Besides pulling Shen Xin from Ding's whirlpool, in one year smallpox would strike the capital. In her last life her family had been untouched—but now she would risk nothing. Leaving Ding was leaving danger. Revenge—but only after kin were safe.
The lively table lasted till deep night. The warm hosts arranged enough rooms. Luo Xueyan meant to share with Shen Miao—but Shen Miao insisted on the small room by the courtyard wall, alone. That room stood apart from the others. To sleep there was to separate from Luo Xueyan and the rest.
Shen Xin disliked it—if danger came, rescue might be slow. But Shen Miao, drunk and stubborn, would die before giving up that room. The farmer's wife laughed. "Perhaps the young lady wants the flowers outside the wall? In snowlight they're lovely. Girls love that. Madam, don't worry—our place is small but there are no bandits. If uneasy, pitch a tent outside with more guards."
Then they noticed—the room by the wall opened its window on a great white garden. Winter plum not yet fallen; moonlight spilled on snow; flower shadows swayed on the ground—a scene of quiet beauty.
Shen Qiu laughed and pinched Shen Miao's nose. "Spoiled thing—no wonder they call you Jiaojiao. Drunk and still picking the room with the best view."
Luo Xueyan swatted Shen Qiu's hand. "Don't fuss." She looked at the muddled Shen Miao and shook her head. "Won't sleep with me—must sleep so far. Fine. Mo Qing and A'zhi will pitch a tent in the yard for the night. Jingzhe and Gu Yu—after helping Miss change, come out."
This farmer house was not like their Ding mansion with inner and outer chambers where maids could sleep on a couch. Luo Xueyan and Shen Xin were not harsh—they would not make Jingzhe and Gu Yu sleep on the ground. The farm was small; with A'zhi and Mo Qing outside, all should be well.
Jingzhe and Gu Yu changed Shen Miao, washed her face, and left. Outside, Mo Qing and A'zhi had pitched the tent and arranged watch in turns. The maids urged them again before leaving.
In that "beautiful-view" side room, only Shen Miao remained.
The Shen Miao Jingzhe had helped onto the bed suddenly climbed up again.
The plum wine's afterkick surged at last. Shen Miao's clear eyes turned hazy. She swayed upright and staggered toward the window—tripped, nearly hit the table corner, and fell hard.
In the dark, strong arms caught her. A light clean scent— a familiar voice at her ear, faintly teasing: "Tsk—throwing yourself at me."
Shen Miao looped his waist to steady herself—without noticing how his body stiffened.
A moment later—a "whoosh"—flame leaped. He had found a fire starter from somewhere and lit the oil lamp.
The farmer's windows were carved wood—solid carving, no paper layer. Light inside could not be seen outside. Those in the yard noticed nothing.
In the dim light she saw his brows and eyes clearly. Snow-white fox fur, deep crimson brocade, red lips white teeth, black eyes bright as peach blossom. Night travel in fine robes still showed elegant bone—who but Xie Jingxing?
Shen Miao paused. "Xie Jingxing?" She spoke heavily and leaned into him again—almost hugging him.
Xie Jingxing frowned. "Such a reek of wine—how much did you drink?" He looked her over with disgust. "I meant to see you off once—instead I meet a drunkard."
"You're the drunk one." Shen Miao retorted at once.
"Fine—you know me and still talk back. Not that drunk." Xie Jingxing helped her to the bed and brought the lamp closer.
In the flickering light Shen Miao wore plain white inner robes, hair loose, looking at him muddled—nothing like her usual shrewd composure. She seemed a pitiable little girl. Xie Jingxing thought a moment, then could not resist and pinched her face hard.
Shen Miao glared at him, cheeks puffed.
Rare childishness—he found it interesting. She was drunk now. Wine loosens truth—or so they say. Perhaps he could ask something. "Who am I?"
"Xie Jingxing." Shen Miao answered fast.
"Know what kind of man Xie Jingxing is?"
Shen Miao stared at him, brow slowly knitting, silent long. Xie Jingxing found it odd—was she cursing him inside? Then Shen Miao laughed suddenly. "A figure of dazzling brilliance!"
Xie Jingxing: "…"
He studied her thoughtfully. "Are you pretending to be drunk?"
"Young Marquis of the Xie house—young prodigy—figure for the ages—early…" The rest trailed off as if she could not remember.
Xie Jingxing's doubt faded. She did not seem to be acting. Strange. He raised a brow. "Didn't know you thought so well of me." He leaned closer, teasing. "Could it be you're fond of me?"
Shen Miao pushed his head away.
Xie Jingxing was speechless. Teasing sober Shen Miao was always fun. Drunk Shen Miao praising him as a "figure for the ages" made teasing feel pointless. "I meant to see you one last time. Drunk like this—forget it. Farewell." He turned to go—then heard a "thump." Shen Miao had fallen off the bed again.
Xie Jingxing meant to lift her—then stopped, crossed his arms, and watched her struggle on the floor. After a while he said: "You should see yourself now."
Head spinning, body soft, Shen Miao could not rise. She flailed long without success. Xie Jingxing could not bear it, lifted her again, and set her on the bed.
Then he heard Shen Miao say: "Eunuch Li—I want to see fireworks."
In the silent night, the words rang clear.
Eunuch Li—I want to see fireworks.
The charcoal fire in the room seemed to freeze.
Xie Jingxing's curved lips slowly flattened. His peach-blossom eyes lost their lazy smile. He crouched until his gaze was level with Shen Miao on the bed—gentle in motion, cold gathering in his eyes. "What did you say?"
Shen Miao opened her eyes at him. In the warm lamplight her eyes grew clearer. A star-point of drunkenness gave the green girl sudden womanly grace. She spoke coquettishly, proudly—reaching out one hand as if to take a palace servant's arm—and commanded: "Eunuch Li—I want fireworks. Bring the Crown Prince and the Princess."
Crown Prince? Princess?
Xie Jingxing stared hard at Shen Miao. His brows were drawn like painting—smiling like spring moon, still like silent abyss when he did not smile—one glance felt like mockery. He watched. Suddenly he laughed lightly.
Though he laughed, no smile reached his eyes. He hooked Shen Miao's chin—a rogue's gesture done with natural grace, gentle enough to drown a man in those dark eyes.
He asked: "Shen Miao—do you want to be empress?"
Shen Miao blinked. "That was always mine."
"Yours?"
"Mine."
Xie Jingxing slowly tightened his fingers. Her chin hurt. Shen Miao frowned in displeasure.
"Little girl—so young and already ambitious for empress." His tone was unreadable; his eyes dangerous. "Ambitious women are most beautiful—but you're not a woman yet."
Shen Miao looked back at him. Bright moon, snow shadows, swaying plum, two figures facing each other—a scene that should have been romantic. Danger and ambiguity pressed in from all sides, mixed with probe and crisis.
She seemed a pampered girl. In ordinary life she would only worry over marrying well. Yet step by step she had schemed in shadow, calculating the realm behind her back. He had guessed ambition—but hearing it drunk still shocked.
That girl was all thorns—from rough block to player of the board, from celebrated general's daughter to fallen lady. What never changed were eyes that looked meek yet were beast-fierce, and the innate nobility and pride of one long on high. "Eunuch Li—I want to see fireworks"—drawn long and soft, like a bell in still night, striking the heart's string.
Even in a dream, her bearing might suit an empress. Still a girl now—in a few more years, grace impossible to hide—perhaps truly mother-of-the-realm.
Xie Jingxing slowly released her chin, glanced at her, meaning unreadable. He made to rise—then heard Shen Miao mutter: "Little Li—fetch my cloak. I'm cold."
From "Eunuch Li" to "Little Li" in one breath.
Xie Jingxing's complex mood turned to helpless laughter. "You're ordering me?"
"Cold." Shen Miao looked at him aggrieved.
Xie Jingxing drew a deep breath and swallowed the urge to seize her and thrash her. He took off his cloak and threw it over her.
Shen Miao wrapped in his cloak and smiled at him. "Later this palace will reward you with several bolts of silk."
Imperial favor without limit.
Xie Jingxing watched her without expression. "Thank you, Your Majesty, for your grace. This servant takes his leave." He turned—Shen Miao grabbed his sleeve.
Tonight's Shen Miao was too abnormal. Xie Jingxing had never dreamed drunk Shen Miao would be like this. He had meant to bully her while she was drunk—instead he seemed bullied. The Young Marquis of the Xie house ordered about like a eunuch—Eunuch Li? Little Li?
Shen Miao pulled his sleeve down and down until Xie Jingxing crouched again, level with her, before she was satisfied. She released the sleeve and seized his collar.
Xie Jingxing was baffled by her movements. He heard Shen Miao murmur: "In the former dynasty, when a princess was widowed, she kept male favorites. Since His Majesty treated me ill, I count my husband dead. I should find a favorite too."
Xie Jingxing barely followed the first part. The second left him stunned. He stared at Shen Miao. "In your dream—you were a cast-off empress?"
"Not cast off! Husband dead!" Shen Miao glared.
Xie Jingxing nodded lazily. "Cast off so you curse your husband dead—you must be the Poison Empress."
"But you're really good-looking." Shen Miao said suddenly. "A new favorite?"
Xie Jingxing: "…"
"A princess of the former dynasty took a beautiful favorite. I saw the portrait—he wasn't as fair as you." Shen Miao said. "Follow this palace. This palace will see to your lower half—food and clothing without worry."
Xie Jingxing had been shaken by "favorite." The next line left him dumb. This was… being taken as a male pet?
He was still stunned when the hand on his collar yanked hard. Something soft pressed close—a cool small mouth licked his lip, then nipped. Plum-sweet wine breath washed over him.
"From now on, you belong to this palace." Shen Miao released him and looked at him primly, smiling.
By the time Xie Jingxing recovered, one thought dominated: he wanted to strangle this woman!
Then a whistle sounded outside—a signal from his man. Mo Qing's party had noticed movement. Xie Jingxing gritted his teeth, glanced at Shen Miao, and swept out the window.
A'zhi opened the door—saw nothing inside—scratched his head. "No one here."
"Probably a mistake," Mo Qing frowned.
Among swaying plum and white snow, the crimson-clad handsome youth—usually so at ease—looked somewhat unsettled. The middle-aged man beside him could not help asking: "Master—you seem distracted… What happened in there?"
Only going to bid farewell to the Shen young lady—why come out so wrong?
The youth's eyes were unreadable. "Tieyi—do I look… look…"
Tieyi puzzled: "Look like what?"
"Forget it!" he answered through gritted teeth. "Move."