Dear Lovely Readers,

My sincerest apologies! I must admit, I got a bit lazy and terribly forgetful—I didn’t realize there were still extra chapters of this wonderful novel waiting to be translated. But fear not! I’m now working on them, and here’s a freshly completed one for you. I hope you enjoy it!

Thank you all for your patience and support!

Chapter 100: Extra Four

On this day of rest, Ning Zizhuo and Yu Xinyi were to be formally betrothed.

Yu Lingxi changed into casual attire and left the palace. The moment she stepped through the gates of the Yu manor, she saw Ning Zizhuo striding briskly across the courtyard, two loudly quacking wild geese in hand, feathers flying everywhere as he came to formally propose.

The young prince was two or three years younger than Yu Xinyi, perpetually cheerful and untroubled. Even now, as a man grown, he still carried the same bright, untarnished youthfulness he’d had during their first meeting at the spring hunt.

Yu Xinyi, dressed in martial attire, marched over amid the flurry of feathers and indignant squawking. She could bear it no longer. “Ning Zizhuo, what are you doing?”

“Proposing, of course.”

The prince proudly presented the geese, their necks adorned with red silk flowers. “I caught these myself and raised them all winter just for today. They’re yours now!”

Among common folk, it was an old custom to gift wild geese as a betrothal present—a symbol of lifelong loyalty and constancy.

But noble families typically used gilded or silver goose-shaped vessels instead. Even those of modest means could buy a pair at the market for a handful of coins. For a young prince to personally hunt and raise geese for his proposal was unheard of.

“The prince has gone to such lengths for you, Sister. How can you refuse?” Yu Lingxi teased.

Yu Xinyi had no choice but to accept the flustered birds and tuck them into a cage. Peace returned at last. Though she feigned exasperation, the warmth in her eyes betrayed her true feelings.

Over the betrothal banquet, the two families merrily settled on the tenth day of the fourth month for the wedding.

---

At dusk, an understated yet spacious carriage drew to a halt before the Yu residence’s steps.

Hearing the commotion, Yu Lingxi stepped out—and sure enough, glimpsed Ning Yin’s striking profile behind the half-parted curtain.

“Finished with your duties?” She braced her hands against the carriage and leaned in. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you? Come inside and join us.”

Ning Yin tilted toward her, tone idle. “Won’t your father and brother spoil our Lantern Festival mood?”

“How could they? You’re not just the emperor—you’re my husband.”

She knew Ning Yin held little affection for so-called “family.” To him, attending such gatherings was merely time stolen from being alone with her.

After a pause, Yu Lingxi smiled. “Wait here a moment.”

She returned shortly with a tiered food box and slipped into the carriage. As it rolled toward the bustling markets, she unpacked her treasures with deliberate ceremony:

“These are the egg tarts my mother made.”

The next layer revealed an ebony plate bearing six varieties of delicate tea cakes.

“These are the betrothal sweets exchanged for Ning Zizhuo and my sister.”

Finally, she lifted the last tier—two steaming bowls of yuanxiao glutinous rice balls.

“One must eat these during the Lantern Festival for family unity.” She passed Ning Yin a bowl with a smile.

Even if he couldn’t comprehend familial joy, she would share hers with him.

Ning Yin disliked sticky foods, yet he ate every last yuanxiao, fragrant with osmanthus syrup, with slow precision.

---

By the time the carriage halted again, the glow beyond the curtains had intensified to a dazzling radiance.

When they pulled the drapes aside, a wave of firelight and noise engulfed them—they’d arrived at the lantern market’s periphery. Before them stretched a river of light spanning ten li, illuminating the capital’s century-old splendor.

This—strolling the lantern festival with Ning Yin—was a promise spanning two lifetimes. After countless twists of fate, it was finally fulfilled tonight.

“Wait. It’s too crowded—put this on first.”

Yu Lingxi produced a half-faced Nuo opera mask and stood to fit it against Ning Yin’s features.

As the black lacquered mask settled over his sharp brows, his silhouette overlapped momentarily with that of the enslaved youth once forced to serve as a human footstool—that humiliated figure before the pleasure district’s gilded facade.

It was a memory Yu Lingxi assumed Ning Yin would rather forget. Hesitating, she made to withdraw it. “I’ll have someone fetch a new—”

Before she could finish, Ning Yin caught her wrist. “What are you afraid of?”

“That you might dislike it.”

He laughed softly and pinched the nape of her neck. He’d never been one for fragility.

Besides, if Sui Sui gave it to him, he’d wear it even were it red-hot iron.

Assured, Yu Lingxi tied the mask securely. As she leaned in to fasten the cords, the warm fragrance of her robes brushed his face.

His lips curved. Deliberately, he nuzzled his nose against her collarbone.

The contrast between his cool skin and warm breath made her shiver. Her fingers fumbled—the knot nearly slipped twice before she managed it and pulled away, shooting him a glare.

Ning Yin, utterly unrepentant, adjusted the slightly askew mask with elegant fingers.

---

The streets were a riot of color: lanterns shaped like blossoms, fruits, and mythical beasts hung in endless rows, while illuminated boats glided through the capital’s canals like drifting stars.

Yu Lingxi clutched an orange lantern in one hand and a newly purchased candied hawthorn skewer in the other. One bite made her grimace—sour.

As expected, night market treats were all scams.

Suppressing a mischievous impulse, she glanced at the man beside her—hands clasped behind his back, the picture of detachment—and held out the skewer with an innocent smile.

“Want some? It’s so sweet.”

Ning Yin’s gaze fell on the string of glistening, crimson hawthorns. He tilted his head, leaned down, and took a bite from her hand, chewing slowly.  

His eyes, visible through the holes of his mask, narrowed slightly, as if savoring the taste.  

*Strange. Did he get one that wasn’t sour?*  

Yu Lingxi refused to believe it and took a bite herself, only to shudder from the tartness.  

Then it dawned on her—Ning Yin couldn’t handle spice, but his tolerance for sourness was unusually strong.  

As Ning Yin leaned in for another bite, Yu Lingxi pulled the candied hawthorn away. “Don’t eat it. I lied—it’s so sour it hurts your teeth.”  

Ning Yin didn’t seem to mind. “It’s fine. Tastes much better than poisoned food.”  

She remembered him once saying that, as a child locked in the cold palace, he had been lured with meat and maliciously fed poison.  

“Perhaps if Sui Sui feeds me with her mouth, it’ll taste sweeter.” Ning Yin tapped his lips, his implication obvious.  

He had a habit of smearing cherry jam, hawthorn jam, and the like on Yu Lingxi’s lips, then slowly savoring every trace from shallow to deep.  

Still preoccupied with his childhood poisoning, Yu Lingxi glanced around, hooked his finger, and whispered, “I’ll feed you when we get back.”  

Satisfied, Ning Yin smiled, took the candied hawthorn from her hand, and crunched into it.  

He wasn’t one to dwell on the past. Playing the pitiful, obedient act was just a way to coax out her inadvertent softness and concern—because he loved it.  

Did Yu Lingxi not see through his little schemes?  

She stole a glance at the faint curve of his lips, and a delicate smile flickered in her eyes.  

Side by side, they strolled leisurely until the end of the long street.  

By the time they returned to the palace, it was midnight. The dim orange glow of the lantern on the bedside table cast hazy silhouettes of two figures behind the gauzy canopy.  

With a *clatter*, a jade-green dish toppled over, staining the sheer fabric at the bedside with red hawthorn jam.  

…  

Not long after returning from the Lantern Festival, Yu Lingxi began feeling unwell.  

Nothing too severe—just an unusual sensitivity to cold, drowsiness, and a lack of energy.  

That day, the imperial physician came for her routine pulse check. Behind the sheer curtain, he let out a small, surprised sound before asking, “Forgive my bluntness, but has Your Majesty’s monthly cycle been regular?”  

Only then did Yu Lingxi realize her period was late by several days.  

“Your Majesty’s pulse is smooth and rolling—it is undoubtedly the sign of pregnancy!”  

After triple-checking, the elderly physician knelt and announced, “Congratulations, Your Majesty!”  

Truly joyous news!  

Hutao’s eyebrows nearly flew off her face as she and the palace maids promptly knelt in unison. “Congratulations, Your Majesty!”  

Yu Lingxi instinctively placed a hand over her abdomen, dazed. *She was going to be a mother?*  

Ning Yin always cleaned up thoroughly afterward, so she had slept without worry. She had no idea which time had allowed this little life to slip through.  

It was unexpected, but more than anything, it brought her joy.  

This was hers and Ning Yin’s child—a continuation of their bloodline.  

“I’ve only just conceived. Once the pregnancy stabilizes, we’ll announce it to the world.”  

With a smile, Yu Lingxi instructed Hutao, “Prepare New Year’s coins and pastries. Everyone shall be rewarded.”  

By the time Ning Yin rushed back from the Palace, Yu Lingxi was reclining on the daybed, ordering a eunuch to deliver the happy news to the Yu residence.  

Seeing Ning Yin enter, she sat up eagerly. “You already know?”  

Ning Yin’s cloak was dusted with frost. He stared at her abdomen for a long moment before finally uttering a low, “Mm.”  

Yu Lingxi finally noticed his odd demeanor. Those dark, fathomless eyes showed no trace of joy or surprise.  

Ning Yin had always been inscrutable, but to remain so expressionless at a time like this was concerning.  

“What’s wrong, Ning Yin?”  

She took his hand and looked up at him. “We’re going to be parents—this is a happy occasion. You should smile.”  

His fingers were firm and cool, the veins on the back of his hand faintly pronounced, a testament to his power over life and death.  

Ning Yin removed his cloak, tossed it aside, and sat beside her. Then, very slowly, he pulled her into his arms.  

He held her so tightly, as if afraid of losing something.  

Sensing the turbulent emotions beneath his silence, Yu Lingxi turned after a long pause, meeting his deep gaze with quiet determination. “What are you worried about, Ning Yin?”  

Ning Yin’s thin lips parted. “It carries my blood.”  

“Yes,” Yu Lingxi nodded. “It’s a part of us, so naturally, it carries our blood.”  

“It will torment you.”  

Before birth, it would drain her vitality; after birth, it would demand her milk. And if it inherited the beastly, tainted blood of the Ning family, it would grow up to torment her further.  

Yu Lingxi froze, then understood—Ning Yin feared this child would inherit his cruelty and madness. He dreaded the possibility that, like him, it would feel no gratitude or reverence for its mother.  

In Ning Yin’s world, fatherhood and motherhood had never been sacred or noble. He had never known warmth, never learned familial love. No one had taught him such things.  

In some ways, he loathed his own bloodline more than anything. And now, this bloodline would thrive by feeding on the vitality of the person he loved most…  

Yu Lingxi had no idea such heavy thoughts weighed on Ning Yin’s heart.  

“That’s not how it is, Ning Yin. A child is the continuation of hope, not suffering.”  

She pressed her palm against his pale cheek, speaking earnestly. “Think of the good—it might have my eyes and temperament, your intelligence and strength. Our best traits will live on in this child. Maybe it’ll have some flaws, maybe it’ll be mischievous, but that’s alright. We’ll teach it how to live and grow. I’m not Consort Li, and you’re not the late emperor. It will have a completely different nature and life, won’t it?”  

She said all this in one breath, then smiled softly. “I love this child. Because it’s yours and mine.”  

Ning Yin stared at the light in her eyes—a sweetness and hope he had never seen before.  

He tried to understand her words.  

“You’ll suffer,” he said, handing her a cup of water.  

Yu Lingxi took a sip from his hand and replied contentedly, “With you by my side, it won’t feel like suffering.”  

Only then did Ning Yin set the cup aside and pull her into his arms.  

Ning Yin was, after all, a man whose mind was sharper than a honeycomb’s maze. It took him only a moment to grasp her meaning.  

Yet a faint displeasure lingered in his heart—Sui Sui’s undivided love, which had always been his alone, would now be split in half by this little creature.  

And worse, it might even look just like him.  

So when Yu Lingxi asked whether he hoped for a princess or a prince, he answered without hesitation: “A daughter. A little Sui Sui.”  

His domineering tone made her burst into laughter.  

*If it turns out to be a little Wei Qi, would he stuff it back in and start over?*  

—  

Yu Lingxi began suffering from morning sickness, unable to keep food down.  

While most women gained weight during pregnancy, she grew thinner, her jawline sharpening.  

“Do I really have to drink that black medicine today?”  

She sat on the edge of the bed, watching the young emperor kneel to help her into her shoes.  

“Yes.” His response was absolute.  

At the familiar bitter scent, her shoulders slumped in instinctive resistance.  

Ning Yin wiped his hands clean, took the medicine bowl from a maid, and blew on it lightly. “But today’s dose isn’t bitter.”  

“Really?”  

She sipped from the spoon he held, and indeed, a subtle sweetness lingered. The taste was much better.  

It wasn’t until much later that she learned this prescription had been refined through sleepless nights by Ning Yin and the imperial physicians—all to ease her discomfort.  

—  

By the seventh month, as summer’s heat faded into early autumn, the baby’s movements had grown frequent and strong.  

Thanks to meticulous care, Yu Lingxi’s figure remained graceful—her complexion healthy, her limbs slender, only her belly swelling high and round. Under the warm glow of lanterns, her loose black hair cascaded around her, lending her an indescribable, sacred beauty.  

Every night before bed, Ning Yin would patiently rub lotus-infused ointment over her belly, keeping her skin smooth and free of stretch marks.  

By now, he performed these tasks effortlessly, a far cry from the ruthless, icy ruler of the court.  

Once, as he massaged the cream in, a small lump suddenly pressed outward beneath her skin, the size of a tiny fist.  

Yu Lingxi tensed, then laughed breathlessly. “Look, it’s moving again.”  

Sensing her joy, Ning Yin lowered his gaze. Almost curiously, he placed his broad palm over the spot.  

Through the thin barrier of her skin, the little thing slid beneath his touch, sending an inexplicable sensation straight to his heart—as if something had connected them in that instant.  

“It’s saying hello to its father,” Yu Lingxi murmured, eyes crinkling. “Isn’t it fascinating?”  

Ning Yin braced himself against the bed, leaning so close his nose nearly brushed her belly. After a long pause, he asked, “Does it hurt when it kicks?”  

A man who could disregard his own pain, yet couldn’t bear even the slightest discomfort for her.  

“No,” she assured him. “It just feels… strange.”  

As if on cue, the little lump nudged again.  

“Little monster.”  

Ning Yin scoffed in mock disdain. Only when the movement settled did he bend down and press a kiss to her smooth stomach.  

—  

As her belly grew, sleeping became a challenge.  

Yu Lingxi often woke at night to find Ning Yin silently massaging her lower back, easing the ache away.  

By mid-October, the child was ready to arrive.  

Before labor began, Yu Lingxi made one demand:  

*The emperor was forbidden from attending the birth. He wasn’t to set foot near the room.*  

He would lose his mind otherwise.  

Previous

Next