Chapter Fifteen: Keeping Vigil Through the New Year

Changning Palace. The Empress Dowager sat upright in the seat of honor. Even though she had removed her auspicious phoenix attire and gilded crown, her regal bearing remained undiminished. She wore a deep red palace robe, embroidered with golden thread in subtle patterns of a phoenix soaring through the heavens.

Two imperial physicians knelt inside the hall, their bodies trembling. The bolder of the two was replying, “The heir Yuns Ming keeps sweating, his body feverish, yet he complains of feeling cold. I am but a humble and inexperienced servant, unable to diagnose the illness.”

“Sweating?” The Empress Dowager echoed with a chill, her gaze icy as she swept it toward the other physician. “Speak!”

“Your Majesty, I have observed closely,” the timid physician stammered, “There are only two charcoal braziers in the room, nothing else unusual.”

Unable to judge whether Yun Ming’s illness was genuine, the Empress Dowager waved them away. Her armor, adorned with gold dust and silver patterns, shone brightly.

Today just after the marriage decree, Yun Ming fell ill upon arriving at the Prince of War’s residence. The timing was too coincidental, as if blatantly announcing his feigned illness, which ironically made it seem more authentic.

In Listening Wind Pavilion, Yun Ming continued his act, leaving only Weishao Qingyu and Feng Jinye behind. Feng Jinye asked, “She imitates your style—what do you make of it?”

The slap from earlier lingered in Feng Jinye’s mind; someday, he would demand repayment.

Weishao Qingyu’s interactions with Luo Yanqing could be counted on just a few fingers. One memorable occasion, about four years ago, was when Weishao Qingyu seized a chance for revelry and visited the Flower Pavilion, where she encountered the heir to the Marquis of Dingyuan embroiled in a fight. Luo Yanqing went there as well, became the target of teasing, and Weishao Qingyu once rescued her.

Reflecting on this melodramatic scene—the type played out countless times on television—Weishao Qingyu mused, “I believe she only wants to draw attention to herself.”

“If she wishes to attract the notice of someone who cares about me, that person must have been present at the palace banquet,” Weishao Qingyu said, casting a suspicious glance at Feng Jinye, implying something.

Then, with a playful tone, she teased, “It’s quite likely you!”

Weishao Qingyu wasn’t suggesting Feng Jinye cared for her; she merely wanted to provoke him for once.

Feng Jinye, however, didn’t take the bait. Addressing Weishao Qingyu, his usually cool voice gained a touch of warmth, the chill eased by compassion. “She mentioned seeing you at Shuiyue Pavilion while I was in Xiyan. When she said she lacked your talent and beauty, I was likely being threatened by you.”

Weishao Qingyu nodded; she had thought of that too. If not Feng Jinye, the most probable candidate was Yun Ming.

She had once wondered if Luo Yanqing might prefer women, but soon dismissed the idea. On the day of the Laba Festival, Luo Yanqing’s appearance was perfectly normal.

Moreover, Luo Yanqing, having witnessed Weishao Qingyu’s kindness toward Yun Ming outside the palace, let her maid strike Weishao Qingyu in retaliation?

Yet all Weishao Qingyu had done was gift Yun Ming a small hand warmer. For Luo Yanqing to hate her over that seemed far-fetched.

But the human heart is unfathomable.

“Enough about her. Today is New Year’s, a wonderful day—let’s not let an outsider spoil our mood!” Weishao Qingyu refused to discuss Luo Yanqing any longer.

She wished to keep vigil, to welcome the New Year, and gently asked Feng Jinye, “Will you stay up with me tonight?” Her tone carried a hint of command, not to be refused...

To keep vigil? Feng Jinye found the phrase unfamiliar; such customs had never touched him.

Since their parents’ passing, Feng Jinye and his sister Feng Qingxuan had never spent New Year’s Eve together. The prince’s residence was always cold and quiet—only a pair of couplets pasted on the door, two lanterns hanging outside, all prepared by the servants, never his concern.

Now, things seemed different. If she were truly his princess consort, his wife, could he finally have a home? Feng Jinye nodded, his deep voice low and husky. “Very well.”

After Feng Jinye’s reply, silence settled between them.

Nearly two months had passed since Weishao Qingyu and Feng Jinye’s marriage. Aside from the initial turbulence, after her return to the Prince of War’s residence, their relationship was only slightly more harmonious than at the beginning.

They met to discuss matters when necessary, and otherwise maintained a comfortable partnership. It was not awkward, but this peaceful coexistence under one roof was a first for Feng Jinye.

He recalled the night Weishao Qingyu had gotten drunk and slept in his room, vanishing the next morning without any sign of discomfort.

Their thoughts diverged—Weishao Qingyu felt at ease with Feng Jinye present.

She had been away from Liyue for two years and lost her father during that time. Never in those two years had she felt so calm.

Ancient nights offered little entertainment. After years in Liyue, Weishao Qingyu’s body clock was fixed—she would begin to nod off once the hour came.

Propping her head with one hand, she murmured, “Feng Jinye, I’m sleepy. You must keep watch; don’t let me fall asleep before midnight!”

Her head swayed dangerously, about to knock against the sandalwood desk, when Feng Jinye, quick as lightning, reached out. Weishao Qingyu obediently let her head rest on his arm...

Out of habit, Feng Jinye’s next move was to gather her into his embrace...

A smile curled beneath Weishao Qingyu’s veil. Keeping vigil, also known as staying up through the New Year, was a tradition in Liyue—remaining awake to greet the new year, symbolizing peace through the ages.

Her first wish for the new year was already fulfilled: to stay up in Feng Jinye’s arms.

The interlude of Yun Ming’s feigned illness passed in Listening Wind Pavilion. After the evening meal was cleared, servants bustled throughout the residence.

Every corner of the mansion glowed with lanterns. Chu Jiu and Qingxia were busy outside Listening Wind Pavilion, hanging lanterns and pasting window decorations. Feng Jinye absorbed the myriad sounds from outside, sensing these fragments as the feeling of a home.

In the past, Weishao Qingyu only knew that New Year meant couplets, window decorations, lanterns, and lucky money, but never realized that each small act carried a beautiful meaning and blessing.

Her father’s New Year nagging used to go in one ear and out the other. Now, every word was clear as day.

Memories flooded her mind—her father instructing the steward to light all the lamps in the residence; outside, asking her to steady the ladder for pasting couplets; after dinner, urging Qingxia to watch her lest she fall asleep; after midnight, always preparing sweet sesame porridge.

These scenes were vivid. She now understood that her mother had done all these things, and what she once saw as her father’s devotion to his wife was, in truth, the essence of family.

Just like the General Weishao residence’s spring couplet, for three years running, the same pair was always chosen: “Peace every day, happiness every spring.”

A tear welled in Weishao Qingyu’s eye. Suddenly, the crackling of firecrackers resounded, wave after wave, echoing through the sky...

Nestled in Feng Jinye’s arms, she opened her eyes, smiling brightly, and whispered, “Happy New Year. May you have poetry and wine, distant lands and old friends...” And me! The last words were left unspoken.

Her gentle voice lingered. Feng Jinye stood, set her down, and finally spoke, “Happy... New Year. May the years ahead... be graced by your smile.” He too left four words unsaid.

Qingxia brought in sweet sesame porridge, its symbolism rooted in the hope for growth and prosperity, as her father once explained. The sweetness represented happiness.

After finishing the porridge, Weishao Qingyu prepared to return to Ziyu Pavilion. Rising, she said to Feng Jinye, “Walk me out—there’s a surprise at the door!”

From the earlier busy sounds, Feng Jinye knew the entire mansion was illuminated; this must be what she meant. He followed her outside to see.

But as Feng Jinye stepped out of Listening Wind Pavilion, he was stunned. The entire residence was aglow, lanterns hanging everywhere. Most striking was the bare maple tree in the courtyard, now adorned with countless red envelopes, each the size of a child’s palm, radiating festivity.

He stared, motionless, as an image flashed through his mind: a girl running to him beneath the tree, throwing herself into his arms...

The vision was blurry—had he dreamed it before?

Weishao Qingyu waved her hand before his eyes. “Hey, are you so moved you can’t speak?”

He returned to himself, the vision fading, and looked again at the red envelopes sparkling in the winter night.

He gazed for a long moment before turning to the girl beside him...

Weishao Qingyu drew a prepared red envelope from her sleeve and handed it to him, “This is for you!”

She had once received New Year’s money from her father and guessed that Feng Jinye had not received such a gift in many years.

Again he was dumbfounded, staring at the slender hand offering that splash of red.

She took his hand and placed the envelope in his palm, smiling softly, before leaving with Qingxia and Dongnuan for Ziyu Pavilion.

Only when her delicate figure disappeared around the corner did Feng Jinye slowly withdraw his gaze, looking at the red envelope in his hand.

He chuckled at its flatness—could she have tucked a banknote inside?

Unable to resist, he opened it, and indeed drew out a slip the size of a banknote. He was about to tuck it back in, but something felt different. He pulled it out again.

Unfolding it, he found a sketch of a girl with eyes bright as stars, so lifelike it seemed to breathe—her artistry was unmistakable.

Weishao Qingyu had drawn a portrait, remembering the day she sought out Feng Jinye for drinks and negotiations. He had crumpled her sketch, but the next morning she found it on the desk, and saw those innocent, childlike eyes.

Qingxia and Dongnuan followed their mistress back to Ziyu Pavilion. Along the way, they could feel her elation. Seeing the warmth on her face, Qingxia’s heart was warmed as well.

Indeed, the Prince of War was both her poison and her cure.

“Qingxia, what did Doctor Leng say about the antidote Aunt sent?” Weishao Qingyu’s happiness had another cause—now she could begin treating her own poison.

Qingxia hesitated, but Dongnuan quickly interrupted, “Mistress, the antidote is complex. Doctor Leng said he needs to study it carefully.”

“Alright. Tomorrow, when Doctor Leng comes to check on Yun Ming, have him visit Ziyu Pavilion,” Weishao Qingyu nodded, knowing her situation was unusual and required caution.

Dongnuan had no intention of hiding anything, but today her mistress was so joyful, troublesome matters could wait until tomorrow.