“Who will drink this cup – you or your wife?” An Jin stepped forward to take the wine cup, but I rushed to stop him. “Your Majesty, must it be drunk?” The Emperor smiled kindly. “It must be drunk.” “Your Majesty,” I said, holding the cup with both hands, “I often hear people praise your benevolence, calling you an enlightened ruler. Why must you make things difficult for us?” The Emperor of Qi was momentarily stunned. “How is this making things difficult? This is a kind marriage arrangement. An Jin has defied the decree and must be punished.” “Isn’t it just remarrying? We’ll comply,” I gritted my teeth, feeling my eyes burn. “A Yao,” An Jin said, pulling me close, “I will never marry anyone else.” I was on the verge of tears. An Jin was usually clever; why couldn’t he see a way out? Agreeing first and then finding a solution would be better than death… He raised the wine cup again to drink. I quickly stopped him, saying in grief: “Fine! Your Majesty, since you won’t leave us a way out, we’ll die together in this hall! And what you’ve done today cannot silence public opinion…” I had prepared for the worst, writing a novel about the Emperor forcing his subject to remarry, even including illustrations, and had Que’er send it to Chen Hua Ou at Shai Yue Zhai.
If anything happened to us, he could add an ending and publish it under the name of the Thirteenth Young Master of the Three Kingdoms.
An Jin, the Emperor, and the Empress all had strange expressions, looking somewhat stiff. Suddenly, An Jin coughed and said, “A Yao, this is not poisoned wine.”
I stood there in a daze. Had I been dramatic for nothing? The Emperor finally came to his senses, stroking his beard, frowning as the kind smile disappeared from his face. “You two are truly devoted to each other. No wonder An Jin refuses to remarry. However, to gain something, one must lose something. I’m sure you understand my meaning.”
“This subject understands,” An Jin said, raising the wine cup and drinking it in one gulp. I couldn’t stop him and could only watch nervously. Except for looking slightly pale, he seemed fine. So it wasn’t poisoned wine after all?
The Emperor rubbed his forehead and narrowed his eyes. “I will not mention the marriage again.” The Empress looked at me with a complex expression.
“Que’er pointed in the direction of her mother-in-law’s study. ‘The master said the madam must be hungry, so eat something first, no need to wait for him.'”
“Mm.” While we were talking, Yuanxiao had already held a stick in his mouth and flew back, his snow-white body like an arrow released from a bowstring.
I took the stick from his mouth and absentmindedly thought about why An Jin had gone to see his mother again. With a forceful throw, the stick arced over the roof and landed in the courtyard.
I was stunned. Que’er pointed in that direction. “Isn’t that the old lady’s study?”
Yuanxiao rushed over excitedly, too fast to stop. The mother-in-law most hated others entering her space, especially Yuanxiao. I hurried after him, wanting to grab him back before he could dive into the courtyard.
The courtyard was eerily quiet, with no one around. By the time I caught up, Yuanxiao had already joyfully found the stick and was running back to me. I tried to pull him away, but I heard the study door creak open.
I thought it was An Jin coming out, but instead, I faced the mother-in-law’s pale, cold face. Her expression was more rigid than usual, her lips slightly trembling, as if trying to conceal an intense emotion.
“Mother-in-law,” my heart tightened. “My husband—”
She stared at me, her black eyes, similar to An Jin’s, deep and dark as twilight. The sharp east wind rustled the leaves, making the silence unbearable. Yuanxiao whimpered, nestling close to me for support.
The mother-in-law descended the steps, walking towards me, her gaze never leaving my face.
“Juezi wine,” she said, the stiffness on her face dissolving into sorrow. “One wrong step, and every step goes wrong.”
“Juezi wine?” I finally awakened from my confusion. “The wine bestowed by His Majesty—”
“Ah Yao, does the An family owe you, or does Jin’er owe you?” The mother-in-law seemed to ask and lament simultaneously.
“Mother!” An Jin suddenly appeared in the half-open study doorway. “Stop talking.”
The secret imperial medicine of the Qi Kingdom’s royal family, Juezi wine, could prevent a person from bearing children. The Emperor had given three choices: marry Miao Yin, render An Jin infertile, or render me infertile. Surprisingly, An Jin chose to render himself infertile rather than me.
I sat on a stone stool in the courtyard, reflecting on our life together. From the moment I stole An Jin’s sugar cake at three and became his little follower, to rejecting a suitor at fifteen, to our noisy wedding at eighteen, I thought we were ordinary childhood sweethearts meant to accompany each other for life. He was my husband and the father of my children. We were supposed to have two children, one like me and one like him.
How did such a good marriage invite disaster? At this moment, I didn’t want to think about unanswered questions.
Yuanxiao lay at my feet, occasionally looking up. An Jin stood behind me, waiting quietly.
“Brother Jin,” I turned to him. “Not having children isn’t a big deal. We’ll just find more wives for Yuanxiao to have dozens of puppies running around, more lively than children.”
Yuanxiao raised his head in shock at the mention of his name, probably guessing my intentions.
An Jin laughed. “That’s settled then.”
He crouched down and rubbed my frozen face. I pulled him into my embrace. Hot tears rolled down my face, something in my heart swelling painfully.
“Brother Jin, we’ll never separate in this lifetime.”
An Jin nodded slightly in my arms. “Even if you try to drive me away, I won’t leave.”
He had always been cunning, calculating precisely. One cup of Juezi wine opened my heart, making me devoted to him for life. Knowing I hated owing favors, he ensured I would owe him completely, leaving no way to escape.
Later, An Jin told me that while Juezi wine had no antidote, it significantly reduced the chances of bearing children but did not completely eliminate them.
If we tried hard, there might still be hope. However, I understood that the An family was already weak in producing offspring, and with the added Juezi wine, the chances were slim. But we wouldn’t give up. The kitchen often smelled of seahorse chicken soup. An Jin tried hard, and I worked hard too, but I still couldn’t get pregnant. As time passed, our anxious desire faded, and we decided to let nature take its course.
The true reason behind the Qi Emperor’s actions seemed to be a secret far more significant than An Jin’s previous investigation into Princess Nan Rui’s whereabouts. Pursuing this secret might disrupt our peace, so we chose to ignore it for now. I advised An Jin to find an opportunity to resign and leave Yanfeng, and he hinted he had been planning this.
The Emperor’s actions had deeply hurt my reverence for the Qi royal family. I slightly modified the novel manuscript stored with Chen Hua’s puppet and had him distribute it as a hand-copied novel. This illustrated manuscript later inspired a play called “Beating the Mandarin Ducks,” which became popular, even performed in the palace during the Emperor’s grand birthday.
This situation failed to result in a successful marriage, and we had secretly formed a grudge with the royal family. Therefore, when my elder brother came to find me, saying that Miao Yin had disappeared from the Hanlin Academy, I was not surprised.
I speculated that the empress discovered her affection for my brother and placed her under house arrest to prevent further connection with our family. My brother, unaware of her identity and difficulties, thought she had left due to an urgent family matter.
