Ye Jiao turned over in bed, her eyes closed, yet her hand groped beneath the covers.
"Sisi?"
No reply came. Suddenly, she sat up abruptly, her hair loose and her face filled with panic.
"Did I kick you off the bed?"
She was prone to kicking in her sleep. Since Li Ce was sleeping outside, he must have fallen under the bed.
"No," Li Ce chuckled softly and quickly approached, pulling her into his embrace.
Only then did Ye Jiao hear footsteps fading outside the window.
"Who was that?" she murmured, draping her leg over Li Ce and resting her head on his shoulder, half-asleep.
"The Ministry of Justice," Li Ce replied. "It's nothing serious. Go back to sleep; tomorrow is your homecoming visit."
On the third day after the wedding, the newlywed couple would return to the bride's parental home to pay respects—known as the homecoming visit.
"Oh?" Ye Jiao muttered drowsily. "I'm going to report you for sneaking out at night to secretly meet your lover, and I'll have my brother give you a good beating."
"Go ahead and report," Li Ce said with eyes closed, "but remember to mention my lover is short and stout, with a beard down to his chest, and smells like he hasn't bathed in half a month."
Ye Jiao laughed heartily beneath the covers. Long after the laughter faded, a gentle reminder came from her sister Ye Rou.
"Jiao Jiao, everyone cries during their homecoming visit."
They had returned bearing generous gifts. After paying respects to Madam Ye, they proceeded to the East Wing Courtyard to visit Ye Chang Geng. Li Ce led the way, with Ye Jiao and Ye Rou linked arm in arm behind him. Seeing Ye Jiao smile at Li Ce's back, Ye Rou teased her.
"Why cry?" Ye Jiao said, "We haven't even argued yet. If anyone should shed tears, it's you all—letting the King of Chu take such a valuable treasure like me away, without demanding a hefty bride price, instead sending half of the An Guo Duke's estate as dowry! Are you all even serious about living together?"
On the second day after the wedding, Ye Jiao received the dowry inventory and discovered the family had given her the most lucrative shipping business: more than a dozen private docks along the Grand Canal, and dozens of cargo ships. Though the imperial family and Li Ce had provided the bride price, that was a fixed amount, while the shipping enterprise was a tangible source of wealth.
Ye Rou covered her mouth to stifle a smile.
"It was Mother and Brother's plan," she said, wrapping an arm around Ye Jiao's waist. "Mother said most princes in the Tang marry into families of similarly illustrious heritage. We have no such powerful backing to rely on, so we added more silver to your dowry—to let you spend without worry."
Ye Jiao's expression softened, and she squeezed Ye Rou's hand.
"Sister, my greatest strength is that you all love me. With your love, no obstacle is insurmountable. Brother risked his life in Jinzhou, most likely to help the King of Chu."
She blinked mischievously.
"When I see him later, I'll ask what kind of woman he likes, and carefully pick one for him."
Arriving at the East Wing Courtyard, Ye Jiao hurried forward, stepping past Li Ce and calling out:
"Brother, I'm home!"
She pushed open the door, while Ye Rou hesitated, hand raised to speak but stayed silent.
Passing behind the zitan screen, Ye Jiao abruptly halted, frozen in place as if time stood still.
Ye Chang Geng lay on the bed, while a Taoist priest sat on a low stool beside him, gently stirring a bowl of medicine.
He raised his eyes to the couple at the door, his expression as detached as one admiring autumn maple leaves or a flock of geese in flight—appreciative, yet devoid of paternal warmth.
His gaze was bright, his lips pale. His posture tall and straight like a pine tree; though seated in his own home and dressed in coarse Taoist robes, an austere dignity emanated from him.
"Father," Ye Rou squeezed past to inquire about his condition, then whispered to Ye Jiao,
"Father came on the day you were wed. He watched you leave, then stayed here to tend Brother's injuries. Thanks to him, Brother's condition improved."
On the way here, Ye Rou had many chances to tell Ye Jiao that their father was here. She had not said so before because Ye Jiao always refused to see him or even speak of him in their presence.
At the wedding, their father appeared only behind a wall, hearing the drums and gongs, the officiant's shouts announcing the auspicious hour, and the imperial procession escorting Ye Jiao away—yet never once seeing her in her bridal gown.
Ye Rou feared that if she mentioned it, Ye Jiao would stubbornly refuse to meet him, though he loved her dearly.
Thirteen years ago, on the night before he left home, their father held the sick Ye Jiao all night, soothing her to sleep until her fever broke, before packing his bags.
Ye Rou, then a child, had naively hoped if her sister had fallen ill for a few more days, perhaps Father would have stayed.
But their mother explained that the Imperial Guards had been stationed outside the residence, and fierce debate raged at court over whether to detain Ye Xi and confiscate the An Guo Duke's estate.
Some said the conspiracy came from the former Princess Chen's maternal clan; others insisted she had already severed ties and the An Guo Duke's house was uninvolved.
More believed in rooting out the threat completely to prevent future troubles.
Outside, swords and axes stood ready, but inside, their father cradled Ye Jiao, softly humming a lullaby:
"Little one safe, little one safe, little one bears the sword to ward off evil; sickness depart, demons scatter, leave the child half hungry and cold…"
Now, their father no longer needed to hold her or sing such songs.
Thirteen years apart had transformed his daughter into a graceful princess consort, who, standing before him, took a cautious step back with a distant expression.
Only King of Chu Li Ce seemed unsurprised. He stepped forward, knelt, and said,
"Your son-in-law pays respects to his father-in-law."
Even Ye Rou felt Li Ce's formality was excessive—he was a prince who knelt only before the emperor. The crown prince outranked him but never made his brothers kneel out of fraternal respect. By status, Ye Xi should have been the one kneeling to Li Ce. Yet Li Ce knelt and signaled Ye Jiao.
"Come, pay respects to your father."
Ye Jiao hesitated, reluctant, and as she bent her knee, Ye Xi said,
"Prince, no need for formalities; please rise."
Ye Jiao's half-bent knee stiffened instantly. She turned sideways, avoiding her father's gaze without a word.
In truth, Ye Jiao had secretly visited her father once. Outside the Taoist temple, she climbed a tree and glimpsed him from afar.
She was only five when he left, barely remembering his face. She only recalled him tall and stern, a presence that steadied the household and brought comfort.
Years later, he remained tall but aged; she saw the fine wrinkles on his face and his thin shoulders from a vegetarian diet.
Her heart churned with conflicting emotions, unsure how to face him or relate to him, so she chose to avoid him.
Fortunately, Li Ce broke the silence, producing an object from his sleeve and respectfully presenting it.
"This is the Tibetan Fengmu Bird Atlas. Please accept it, Father."
Li Ce had borrowed this chart from Ye Xi to pressure Gesang Meiduo into releasing Ye Chang Geng. The map proved invaluable; after Ye Chang Geng fell from a cliff, the Tibetans ceased their pursuit and vanished without a trace.
Now that they had returned, the chart ought to be returned, but Ye Xi declined.
"Prince Chu should hand this over to the Ministry of War," Ye Xi said. "They asked for it earlier, but I refused."
Li Ce's expression flickered. Was Ye Xi's refusal born of disdain for the Ministry, or because he intended to use it himself?
Rumors of Ye Xi's extraordinary powers were spreading in the capital. Some said that the day Prince Wei rebelled, fierce winds toppled countless buildings. The temple and Taoist shrines outside the city were filled with the injured.
Yet Ye Xi had warned his followers to leave their homes a quarter-hour before the storm, gathering in the open, so none at Qingyao Temple were harmed.
Those who escaped spread the tale, and incense offerings surged at Qingyao Temple, which expanded its services to all ceremonies.
Those seeking matches encountered those wanting divorce; the priests would first inscribe longevity talismans on one, then help the other with soul rituals.
The priests, once content with chanting sutras, now busied themselves day and night practicing talismanic scripts to avoid mishaps, leaving no time to sweep floors or cook properly—nearly driving Ye Xi home.
Sensing Li Ce's thoughts, Ye Jiao voiced her doubt.
"That day," she spoke to her father with a tone of accusation, "was it you who told Wang Qianshan not to let his daughter stand beneath the eaves?"
Before Ye Jiao entered the palace to save the emperor during Prince Wei's rebellion, the Sixth Prince Li Can had arrived, delivering a message from a Taoist for Ye Jiao.
That warning was not empty, but her father's actions confused her: why appear when he sought seclusion, and at such a perilous moment, displaying power surpassing the Observatory?
Li Can was the Crown Prince's right hand; if he suspected, he would see Ye Xi as a threat to be eliminated.
"Yes," Ye Xi answered, "Qianshan was uncertain. Are you hurt?"
"No," Ye Jiao replied, "the Crown Prince saved me."
Hearing this, Li Ce's expression shifted.
"The Crown Prince?"
He knew Ye Jiao had saved the emperor and that the wind had collapsed eaves, but did not know it was the Crown Prince who saved her.
Ye Jiao waved off the concern.
"I saved him too—a debt repaid; I owe him nothing."
Yet the complexity in Li Ce's eyes showed this was no mere matter of owing or not owing.
But now that they were married and it was the homecoming day, his heart relaxed slightly.
Ye Xi tilted his head and set down the medicine bowl.
"What do you want to say?"
Ye Jiao said,
"Father, what is your true purpose in returning? Surely not merely to attend a wedding…"