Chapter 133: I Am Not Your Highness’s Ally; I Am Your Highness’s Husband, The Father Of Your Highness’s Child

Li Rong’s words made Pei Wenxuan pause in surprise. She looked at the young man kneeling before her and spoke softly, “Rise. If we are ruler and subject, you may kneel to me. But if you regard me as your wife, there is no need for this. I know you don’t wish to argue with me, but I don’t need you to yield like this.”

“I am not a teenage girl who doesn’t understand things,” Li Rong poured herself a cup of tea. “I won’t change my mind just because you kneel to me. It only makes me feel like you are pressuring me.”

Hearing this, Pei Wenxuan was momentarily at a loss. After hesitating for a long while, Li Rong glanced up at him. “What, do you need me to help you up?”

Finally, at her words, Pei Wenxuan stood up. Li Rong patted the space beside her and said gently, “Sit.”

Pei Wenxuan complied and sat down next to her. Li Rong leaned back in her rocking chair, swaying slowly. “You thought I wouldn’t agree to you handling this matter. Do you know why I might object?”

“This time, His Majesty’s ultimate intention is to set quotas.”

“Quotas?”

Li Rong looked up. Pei Wenxuan did not hide it from her and explained truthfully, “Starting this year, the number of recommendations from noble families must be limited. Alternatively, those who pass the imperial examinations must have a unified placement—they should undergo at least a year of training before the Ministry of Personnel assigns them to various departments.”

The biggest issue with the imperial examinations now is that without Li Ming’s close supervision, officials from humble backgrounds cannot attain positions of real power.

In Great Xia, commoners currently encompass two types of people: lower-ranking noble families like the Pei and Qin families, and ordinary families not even listed in the Clan Register.

The so-called noble families in Great Xia are defined by whether they are listed in the “Clan Register.”

The Clan Register is revised every few hundred years, documenting the most recognized noble families across the regions. The register further classifies these noble families into first, second, and third tiers. Marriages occur within these tiers, and crossing tiers is considered a tremendous honor.

All families pride themselves on marrying into first-tier noble families. Meanwhile, the children of first-tier families would rather remain unmarried their entire lives than marry into lower-ranking noble families.

This centuries-old practice of marital alliances has cemented the nobility’s absolute authority in the court. In the past, the Li family, to balance the influence of the existing nobility, formed a marital alliance with the Shangguan family of Fanyang in Youzhou, bringing this locally influential clan—then at the bottom of the eight great families—into the capital as a counterweight to the southern clans.

However, after three generations, the Shangguan family entrenched itself in the court, forming intricate connections with other noble families and countering imperial authority. Li Ming then realized the shortcomings of using one noble family to balance another. Drawing from past dynasties’ experiences, he reinstated the imperial examination system, hoping to balance the court by selecting talent beyond family ties.

Li Ming forcibly implemented the imperial examinations, but the noble families had their own methods. Even if commoners could pass the exams, the Ministry of Personnel handled the appointments of the hundreds of successful candidates each year, placing them in bitter, exhausting positions with no future.

It’s difficult to participate in the exams, difficult to pass them, difficult to secure an official post after passing, and difficult to get promoted after appointment.

If Pei Wenxuan hadn’t relied on Pei Lizhi back then, how could he have become the top scholar?

If Cui Yulang hadn’t gained a noble’s appreciation with his poetry back then, his exam papers might never have reached Li Ming’s hands.

This year, the imperial examinations were handed over to Pei Wenxuan, and the palace examination was made a regular practice to address the difficulty of taking the exams.

Limiting the number of recommendations from noble families or unifying the initial placements for examination candidates aims to solve the problem of securing official posts.

Listening to Pei Wenxuan’s words, Li Rong pondered for a moment before realizing where these examination candidates were meant to go after their first year: “So, the place these imperial examination graduates are to spend their first year—is it the Inner Cabinet?”

After the Memorial Hall burned down, Li Ming immediately established a temporary advisory body called the Inner Cabinet.

At the time, they had only thought that Li Ming wanted to ensure memorials reached him without being controlled by the noble families. But now, with Li Ming making this demand, Li Rong finally understood: “Has Father Emperor been planning this all along?”

“Your Highness, before His Majesty tasked you with establishing the Surveillance Department, he had been preparing its land, personnel, and funds for years. If you hadn’t built the Surveillance Department, he would have had Consort Rou establish it sooner or later. You gave him the opportunity to create it. Given His Majesty’s temperament, his current push for reform is unlikely to be a mere whim.”

“The fire in the Memorial Hall was his opportunity to establish the Inner Cabinet. And the creation of the Inner Cabinet was precisely to pave the way for today’s imperial examination reforms.”

Li Rong listened silently.

She suddenly realized that she did not truly understand Li Ming, just as she had not understood Li Chuan in the past.

In the royal family, everyone wore masks. Neither Li Ming nor Li Chuan had ever truly understood her either.

“You thought I wouldn’t agree to the reforms,” Li Rong said after a moment of reflection.

Pei Wenxuan did not respond. Li Rong smiled faintly. “Indeed, I do not agree.”

“But whether this happens does not depend on Your Highness’s will. If not now, then another time.” Pei Wenxuan looked up at her. “This is the emperor’s will. Even if His Majesty were to die today, any successor with even a hint of ambition would pick up where he left off.”

Just like Li Chuan in their previous life.

When he ascended to Li Ming’s throne and looked down upon this empire, he would realize that he was merely the next Li Ming.

Li Rong sat in silence, feeling as though she were riding in a carriage hurtling uncontrollably forward. She could not stop it, only watch as it plunged over a cliff, crashing and bleeding.

Pei Wenxuan watched Li Rong lost in thought, and his heart ached.

In their previous life, he would have already argued with her.

He had resented her stubbornness, her prejudice against commoners. Most frustrating of all was that he loved her, yet the person he loved looked down on him deep down.

But now he did not want to argue. They had come too far to clash over such matters again.

After a brief silence, he explained with difficulty, “Rongrong, I know you believe the imperial examinations cannot truly select talented individuals. But you must remember, in our previous life, many of the people around me were from humble backgrounds. They were capable too, weren’t they? The noble families certainly have their dignity, and the education they receive cannot be replicated merely by reading books. That’s why the recommendation system still exists.”

“Lineage is important, but we are all human.” Pei Wenxuan forced a smile. “Look at me—I came from a humble family, and I turned out well, didn’t I?”

Hearing his words, Li Rong slowly turned to him.

Her eyes were bright, with moonlight reflecting in her amber irises like a quietly flowing stream.

Leaning halfway up, she gently brought her lips to his.

Pei Wenxuan was taken aback, and then he heard Li Rong whisper soothingly, “Don’t be sad.”

It was a brief, gentle kiss—seemingly meant only to comfort. She drew back and reclined in her rocking chair again, speaking softly, “Wenxuan, I don’t care that much about these things. If I did, I wouldn’t have fallen for you back then.”

Pei Wenxuan watched as Li Rong lay back in the rocking chair, swaying gently back and forth. Her gaze drifted to the scattered moonlight in the air as she spoke slowly, “Everyone always emphasized the importance of bloodline and family name to me. But for some reason, when I first met you, I didn’t think about whether you were from a humble background or a noble family. I just thought, this person is truly beautiful.”

“Your Highness…” Pei Wenxuan’s voice was hoarse, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say.

“In the past, I always argued with you. You always thought I cared about social status and was biased. But the one who truly cared about status was you.”

Li Rong’s voice carried a note of weariness.

“I used to disagree with your reforms because I felt the imperial examination system was too rigid. And as you saw, even in our previous life, most of those who passed the exams were from noble families. But as I grew older, my perspective changed. Noble families appear more accomplished because they have access to more resources—not because they are inherently better or worse. That’s why I fully supported your efforts to establish schools across the regions later on. And the reason I disagree with your reforms now is that they are too rushed.”

“Wenxuan,” Li Rong looked up, “Father Emperor doesn’t have many years left, but you are still young. If Consort Rou hadn’t intervened today, what would you have done?”

Pei Wenxuan was speechless. Li Rong answered with certainty, “You were planning to take on the case yourself, weren’t you?”

“You’ve divorced me, so if anything happens, it won’t affect me. That’s why you had two plans: if Consort Rou took the case, that would be best. If she didn’t, you would take it yourself. His Majesty would fully support you then. If it succeeded, all would be well. But if it failed…”

“In our previous life, how difficult was it for you and Chuan to implement reforms? Do you not remember? Why do you think I was reluctant to challenge the noble families? Because behind every reform lies turmoil. For us, the turmoil meant life and death as players in the game. But have you ever considered what that turmoil meant for the common people?”

“During Chuan’s reforms, uprisings erupted everywhere. Battles were fought repeatedly in the court. It took us over twenty years to recover and rebuild. But during those turbulent times, how did the common people live? Don’t you understand?”

“Your Highness, it won’t be like that now,” Pei Wenxuan frowned. “The Crown Prince was too hasty back then. That’s why I’m pushing for change now—to proceed slowly and steadily.”

“And if you push the noble families too far and they rebel?” Li Rong stared intently at Pei Wenxuan.

He fell silent. After a long pause, he spoke slowly, “Your Highness, there has never been any change in this world without cost. But if we do nothing, will the lives of the common people truly be better?”

“If they rebel, the people will suffer. But if military funds in the north are insufficient, won’t the northern people and the soldiers who die in battle suffer? If there’s no money year after year for disaster relief and river repairs in the south, won’t the victims suffer? The common people at the bottom are born as slaves or peasants—unable to engage in trade or become officials, forced to farm generation after generation under the oppression of noble families. Aren’t they suffering too?”

“I’ve heard these words before,” Li Rong said slowly. “From Chancellor Pei. And later, he died in his prime.”

“Pei Wenxuan,” Li Rong’s voice was slightly choked, “you are so much like your father.”

“It’s a pity he left too soon. Otherwise, he would have been very proud to see you today.”

Pei Wenxuan could not speak. He faintly sensed a glimmer of moisture in her eyes, but it quickly faded.

The two of them gazed at each other in silence. Li Rong looked at the person before her, her heart trembling slightly. “I don’t want to become your mother.”

“Your Highness will not be my mother.”

Pei Wenxuan smiled. “Regardless of success or failure, this matter paves the way for the Crown Prince. Both His Majesty and the noble families will be weakened. With Qin Lin’s military power in hand, by the time the Crown Prince ascends the throne, Your Highness—”

Before he could finish, Li Rong slapped him across the face.

The sound of the slap echoed in the room. Li Rong stared at him. “Who are you to me?”

“Are you my strategist or my death-seeking warrior?”

Pei Wenxuan’s face was turned to the side by the force of her slap. He didn’t dare look at her and remained motionless.

“Is your life so cheap? If you care so little for your own life, why did you become my husband?”

“Rongrong,” Pei Wenxuan’s voice was hoarse, “nothing will happen.”

“Whether something happens or not, did you ever think to ask me before taking such a risk?” Li Rong looked at him, rising to her feet. She gazed down at the young man before her. “In your heart, do you think I don’t care about your life? Or do you believe your life and death have nothing to do with me?”

Pei Wenxuan remained silent. Li Rong’s tone softened. “Have you heard this story?”

Pei Wenxuan shifted, looking up at her. Li Rong smiled. “There was a couple in the east of the city who grew up together, deeply in love. They overcame countless hardships and life-and-death trials before finally being together. But later, the husband developed a passion for cockfighting. He took most of the family’s silver and secretly bought a fighting cock. Guess what happened?”

Pei Wenxuan didn’t speak. He understood Li Rong’s metaphor and didn’t dare answer. Li Rong chuckled softly. “The woman divorced her husband.”

After more than a decade of love, what life and death could not separate was ultimately torn apart by a fighting cock.

What wears away isn’t the great storms and waves, but the countless droplets that gather into a river in everyday life.

“Pei Wenxuan,” Li Rong looked at him, “your life is not yours alone. You are my husband, the future father of my children. Even if it’s for my sake, you should have discussed it with me. If you can’t do that—”

Li Rong couldn’t finish her sentence. Pei Wenxuan watched her. Though he was looking up at her, in that moment, he felt as though she was the one bowing her head.

He had never imagined this person would lower her head for him. Even now, her words were carefully restrained, unlike before when she would have hurt him without hesitation.

He suddenly noticed her change, her growth. They both knew each other’s vulnerabilities and had once mercilessly targeted them. But now, she had learned to hold back, not even uttering the word “separation.”

Pei Wenxuan stood up and pulled her into his arms.

Li Rong initially resisted, but as his warmth enveloped her, she felt her eyes sting. She struggled not to cry over such a matter, gritting her teeth as he drew her into his embrace.

“It’s my fault,” Pei Wenxuan murmured softly. “From now on, I won’t act on my own. I’ll discuss everything with you. We’ll decide together.”

Li Rong remained silent. Pei Wenxuan lowered his head and kissed her forehead, his voice gentle. “I didn’t realize how wonderful my Princess is. I was narrow-minded. Please forgive me.”

“Silver-tongued and slick,” Li Rong muttered under her breath.

Pei Wenxuan smiled softly as he straightened her clothes. “Your Highness, let me escort you back.”

Li Rong was taken aback. She looked up at him, expecting that given his nature, he would have insisted she stay the night.

She had already prepared her refusal, but instead, Pei Wenxuan offered to take her home.

Before Li Rong could fully process this, she watched as he fetched an outer robe and gently draped it over her shoulders. After smoothing her clothes, he picked up a lantern, took her hand, and pushed the door open as if nothing had happened. “How did Your Highness come here tonight?” he asked lightly.

“From next door,” Li Rong murmured, letting him lead her out. “I bought the place.”

Hearing this, Pei Wenxuan couldn’t help but smile, though he stifled any sound to avoid upsetting her, letting the amusement simply linger on his face.

It was nearly April, and the night breeze still carried a chill. Wrapped in his robe, she walked beside him along the corridor.

Pei Wenxuan shielded her from the wind and lit their path through the courtyard. The estate was not yet fully renovated, and many areas remained unlit. Worried he might not know the way, Li Rong said, “There’s a ladder in the backyard. I climbed over from there.”

“Your Highness has gone through much trouble,” Pei Wenxuan replied, his heart feeling as though it were steeped in the most comforting warm water, softening his entire demeanor.

They walked side by side, with Pei Wenxuan guarding her as if she were a child. After a long silence, Li Rong asked quietly, “Aren’t you going to ask me to stay?”

“I would love to,” Pei Wenxuan admitted with a faint smile. “But I made a mistake tonight. If I asked you to stay, you might think I’m trying to gloss over what happened. The pleasures of the bedchamber are matters of elegance—they shouldn’t be mixed with such disputes.”

Li Rong turned to look at him. His white robes outlined his tall figure in the darkness, embodying the grace and refinement of a noble scholar, like a pine or bamboo—austere yet elegant.

For a moment, Li Rong was mesmerized. No matter how many years passed, Pei Wenxuan’s beauty never seemed to fade.

Unaware of her distraction, he continued, “From now on, I will inform you of everything in advance and discuss matters with you. If you are willing, you can also share your plans with me. You are right—we are husband and wife now, unlike in our previous life. We should consult each other in all things. I am not your ally; I am your husband, the future father of your children.”

As he spoke, he turned to meet her gaze and smiled. “I haven’t quite learned how to do this properly yet. I hope you will guide me, Your Highness.”

Hearing his words and seeing his smile, Li Rong felt her face grow warm for some inexplicable reason. She turned away and murmured an acknowledgment to hide her embarrassment.

Noticing her slight shyness, Pei Wenxuan found it utterly endearing. He tactfully averted his eyes, smiling as he looked ahead.

When they reached the backyard, he spotted the ladder leaning against the wall. Setting down the lantern, he steadied the ladder and carefully helped Li Rong climb up.

After ascending a couple of steps, she turned back.

Now slightly taller than him, she called out, “Pei Wenxuan.”

He looked up, puzzled. “Hmm?”

In that instant, Li Rong leaned down and kissed him lightly. Before he could react, she swiftly climbed over the wall and waved. “I’m off!”

Pei Wenxuan gazed up at the spot where she had disappeared, his fingers unconsciously brushing his lips.

After a moment, a slow smile spread across his face.

He couldn’t wait any longer.

It was time to make plans sooner—to marry her and bring her home for good.

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