Chapter 18

 

Chapter 18: Spring Banquet

 

The spring night was heavy, warmth soaking the air. No longer the dry crispness of early spring, but a damp, clinging heat like drops of molten wax falling onto one’s clothes, seeping in without notice until the whole body felt sticky and uncomfortable.

Lan Yunjin knew she could not pry anything out of Wei Xiao.

The look on his face said enough; troubled, weighed down, his brow clouded as if shrouded by layers of dark storm clouds.

She could not guess what was turning in Pei Ye’s mind, but Wei Xiao was easier to read. Most likely, today he had heard something unpleasant from Pei Ye.

Yet Pei Ye was not the kind of man to speak recklessly. Without solid proof, he would not have laid his cards bare to Wei Xiao so directly.

But recalling her elder sister’s bloodless face earlier in the day… most likely she too had been frightened.

If matters had already spiraled beyond repair, her elder sister would never have hidden it from her.

There was still room to pull things back.

As she mulled it over, Lan Yunjin tugged at the collar of her robe, sticky with sweat clinging to her skin. She was just about to call for Pipa to prepare bath water when….

“Going to bathe?”

Wei Xiao’s voice was like a cutting wind across her cheek.

Somehow, without her noticing, he had placed himself right before her, broad as a wall.

Her sight was filled with him. Except when they were in bed, the two rarely stood so close.

She pressed her lips together. “Yes.”

Soap and that unique scent of his it was something between youth and manhood, vigorous, like a flame burning bright.

Wei Xiao was no fool. On the contrary, he was like his prized stallion; untamed, headstrong and brimming with unspent energy.

And if he truly were a horse that could be reined in, Lan Yunjin would not have to exhaust her mind finding ways to deal with him.

She could not sit idly any longer.

Before, she thought lying low was the safest way. Not drawing attention to the exchanged identity and lest deliberate concealment seem all the more suspicious.

Just as she stood up, his palm came down on her shoulder.

“I’ll help you,” Wei Xiao said.

Lan Yunjin froze, startled.

If she didn’t lift her gaze, all she saw was the breadth of his torso, only thinly covered by a robe, the outline beneath shifting, suggestive.

Her mind was churning, how to deflect, how to stall for time, how to distract him just one more day.

Yet with such a sight before her eyes, her thoughts scattered. She could not look away, nor find an immediate reply.

Here in this room, she could no longer be the fearless old woman of her past life, unafraid of gods or ghosts, leading Wei Xiao by the nose. Nor could she freely be her true self.

Her hand turned, gripping his arm instead. “Husband, you’ve been weary all day. How could I let you fetch bath water for me?”

“I’ll fetch it myself. No need to call the maids,” Wei Xiao replied.

She looked up at him then, genuinely puzzled. “But these are not things a husband ought to do.”

“Then what is?” Wei Xiao pulled on his outer robe, the movements sharp, as was his tone. “If you and I are husband and wife, then why keep so many rules?”

Lan Yunjin did not press further, only murmured politely, “Then I must trouble husband.”

She had seen him before at the training grounds, fierce as a war god astride his stallion.

This wooden tub in his hands was little more than a toy. One trip, then another, and he was done, without breaking a sweat.

Lan Yunjin despised spring and summer most. Each day left her drained, wrapped in breathless layers of skirts. Only at night, when she could finally loosen her bindings and sink into the bath, did she feel any relief.

Tonight, Wei Xiao bathed first, leaving her slightly ill at ease.

Neither Yuchan nor Pipa were anywhere to be seen, no doubt it was Momo Zhou’s doing.

The water was just right. Lan Yunjin washed absentmindedly.

If she wanted to divert his suspicions about her identity, she would need to play her hand carefully. It was not easy, but neither was it impossible.

Wei Xiao had never truly known her elder sister. Even with her writings to compare, once married, where could he look to distinguish one sister from the other?

Desire clouds reason.

And especially since Wei Xiao had his own desires, so if she could stoke them and keep him occupied, then he would have little attention left for other matters.

If she did nothing tonight and ignored the danger, then tomorrow would surely bring even greater risk.

Lan Yunjin decided to gamble.

She lathered soapberry, scooped up water with both hands, rinsing the suds from her skin.

Meanwhile, in the outer room, Wei Xiao snuffed out the lamps one by one, his mind circling back to Pei Ye and that little servant’s behavior during the day.

He still could not see through his wife.

And now a younger sister, so alike and yet unlike… perhaps not even a real younger sister at all.

He cut off that dangerous speculation.

He had already taken Madam Lan as his wife. Whether elder sister or younger, that fact would not change.

Besides, it was only a suspicion.

But Pei Ye’s feelings for Yunying, that much was real.

The outer lights were extinguished, plunging the inner chamber into shadow.

Wei Xiao stepped inside, by habit reaching for the wine flask.

In the General’s household, boys were taught from childhood to drink. A grown man could not afford to be undone by liquor.

Out on campaign in the northern deserts, when rations ran out, wine could be the difference between life and death.

The liquor was not only for pleasure or easing fatigue. On the battlefield, once soldiers had sharpened their blades, they needed to drown themselves in a jug of wine before they could swing with the resolve to sever an enemy’s head.

Outsiders thought generals were born fearless, eager for bloodshed. But that was far from the truth.

Without grueling, near-inhuman training, without the burning sting of spirits to steel their courage, the bones of the dead would have covered the fields ten times over.

The Emperor spared no expense in rewarding the troops with wine barrels of cloudy brew, fine-brewed yellow wine, and even tonics infused with deer antler and organ meats.

Wine emboldened men. And emboldened men fought harder.

Wei Xiao had once seen the Marshal’s own deputy drink himself to death. Yet the court turned a blind eye, continuing to send wine to every camp year after year.

So long had the soldiers been addicted to drink that without it many could not endure military life.

Wei Xiao had realized this early, and little by little, taught himself to abstain. Now, he picked up the flask but did not uncork it.

The spring night was restless. Somewhere beyond the courtyard wall, a stray cat wailed, high-pitched and grating, carrying a meaning only the worldly would recognize.

Lan Yunjin stepped out from the bath.

Since Yuchan was absent today, she suddenly recalled no clothes had been set aside for her.

With no choice, she slipped into a moon-white brocade robe that Wei Xiao had left draped on the rack.

Pulling it tight around her, she approached him.

“Husband, may I have a sip?” Her dark hair was loose, falling over her chest.

The robe swallowed her delicate frame, hanging loose, slipping with each step. Her slender, pale legs peeked out, revealed in flashes.

Wei Xiao knew well enough that the flask held only rice wine, filled just yesterday, and untouched by his lips.

Yet his throat burned as though he had swallowed strong spirits, his mouth warm and damp.

His gaze flickered, caught in the shimmer of her eyes. “Have you ever drunk before?”

Lan Yunjin nodded softly, her voice like silk. “Yesterday, with Mother and my sister-in-law, I had a few cups. My tolerance is poor so I thought to practice a little.”

Fearing he might refuse, she added quickly, “Only one sip. I won’t get drunk.”

Wei Xiao’s thoughts spun in disarray. He could not bring himself to question her intentions. As if possessed, he handed the flask to her.

It seemed oversized in her hands; her fingers were soft, smooth. If they were wrapped around his instead… sharp and unyielding desire surged up in Wei Xiao.

Lan Yunjin’s lips brushed the mouth of the flask. Tilting her head, the wine flowed past her lips.

But with her hands occupied, the brocade robe slipped open in an instant.

Startled, she coughed, lowering the flask hastily, her chest rising and falling as she sputtered.

The wine spilled, drenching her skin as though the flask itself had been frightened.

With a lamp still burning, there was no hiding.

Wei Xiao pulled the robe from her shoulders, his voice low and rough. “This robe doesn’t fit you.”

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