Yan Ning paused for a moment, then smiled and replied, "It's a son. Judging from his current appearance, he must be just as unruly as you!"
A hint of regret flickered in Xiang'er's eyes as she sighed softly, "I wish it were a daughter, so she could stay close to me. A son would be fine too, then I wouldn't be all alone in this world!" A smile of new motherhood crept onto her pale face.
After saying only a few words, Xiang'er fell into a deep sleep again.
Yan Ning stayed by her side for half a day, and then instructed Zhu Xiang and Rong Xi not to reveal the slightest clue before returning to Jian Gong Zhai. Rong Xi watched Yan Ning's figure leave Fu Rong Yuan, opened her mouth, but didn't know how to speak. She was just a maid, her words carried little weight, how could the general and his wife listen to her?
Zhao Xing stood guard outside the main room of Jian Gong Zhai. Yan Ning knew at a glance that Fukang'an was inside. She went in. It was dusk, and the room was unlit. She couldn't see Fukang'an sitting in the main seat clearly; he was just a dark figure, and her expression was hard to discern.
Just as Yan Ning was about to order someone to light the lamps, Fu Kang'an stopped her. "Yan Ning, sit with me for a while!" His voice was low and pleading. Yan Ning nodded, then remembered that he might not be able to see, so she went forward. Just as she was about to sit down next to him, Fu Kang'an pulled her into his arms.
The thick curtains, originally meant to block the autumn chill, now blocked out the light. A faint scent of sandalwood wafted through the air; perhaps from the long burning of this incense, Fukang'an was imbued with this fragrance, which lingered on his body for a long time.
Amidst wisps of smoke, Fukang'an's face appeared both real and unreal. He buried his face in Yan Ning's neck, tightly embracing her waist, as if trying to melt her into his own body.
Yan Ning winced in pain as Fu Kang'an held her tightly, struggling to push him away. But he tightened his grip, completely ignoring Yan Ning's cries of pain.
"Yan Ning, please grant me a child!"
His low, labored breathing sounded against Yan Ning's neck, deep and powerful like the striking of a wooden fish.
Through the three layers of fabric, Yan Ning felt a dampness on her neck. Her heart ached, and she gently stroked Fukang'an's braid. He had fought across the world, his blood staining countless wounds, yet now he had witnessed his son's death, powerless to save him, and could only hold him like that, sending him on his final journey.
Yan Ning felt a pang of regret. She blamed herself for being so willful that day, completely disregarding his feelings. Just as she was about to speak, Fukang'an suddenly lifted his head, picked her up, and carried her into the inner room.
With a forceful and coercive tone, his lips pressed against hers, giving Yan Ning no chance to react. Pain and heat washed over Yan Ning's senses in waves.
The pain in her body woke Yan Ning early; there was no lamp in the room. The pale moonlight streamed in through the latticed window, falling directly on Fukang'an's furrowed brows.
Her hands rubbed the deep furrows of his skin, trying to smooth them out, hoping that this might alleviate some of his pain.
A cool touch came from between his brows. Fukang'an was a very light sleeper, and his consciousness immediately returned. Without opening his eyes, he pulled Yan Ning, who was nestled in his arms, closer.
"Yan Ning, will you have a child for me?"
His tone was extremely soft, not like a request, but with a hint of pleading in his command.
Yan Ning looked up and met his resolute chin, which, in just a few days, had become sharp and piercing, as if cut by a knife.
Beneath her white nightgown, Yan Ning's face was as beautiful as jade. Her delicate eyebrows and pearly teeth were bathed in moonlight. She nodded, tugged at his collar, and he opened his eyes. He took her hand in his other hand and placed it against his heart, then fell into a deep sleep.
The Mid-Autumn Festival at the Fucha Mansion passed by in silence because of Xiang'er's matter. Chef Wu took all the dishes he had revamped that day to the Hibiscus Garden.
The autumn colors in Furong Garden were the most vibrant in the mansion. The servants in the courtyard all bowed their heads and worked, their faces devoid of any joy. Only Zhuxiang and Rongxi, who served in the inner chambers, greeted Xiang'er with beaming smiles, but as they turned away, their smiles froze on their faces, and tears silently streamed down their faces.
Fukang'an's hand gently traced Xiang'er's slightly rosy cheeks. Then he grasped her exposed hand, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Xiang'er, thank you for giving me a son!"
The bed curtains had been changed to a shade even paler than pale purple, almost pure white, with a hint of silver sheen. This perfectly accentuated Xiang'er's round face, making her appear somewhat alluring. She gazed at Fukang'an's tall, slightly weary figure in deep crimson robes. What she had previously let go of immediately filled the emptiness and carefree void in her heart. She could now be a devoted wife and mother!
She covered Fukang'an's hand with her own, "General, have you named our child?"
"Dejia!"
Fukang'an's straight back trembled slightly, which Yan Ning noticed.
Xiang'er's cheeks flushed red. "The name the general chose must be good!" She looked at the empty space beside her. "I haven't seen our child yet. Can the wet nurse bring him here? Every day when I wake up, I see him being taken to be breastfed by the wet nurse."
Fukang'an tightened his grip on Xiang'er's hand. "You are still sick. Your mother is afraid that you will pass on your illness to Dejia, so she has already taken him to the Peony Hall! You should rest and recover. When you can get out of bed, Yan Ning can accompany you to the Peony Hall to see him. After you recover, you can bring him back to keep him by your side."
He spoke very slowly, calmly and forcefully.
Although Xiang'er was worried about her son, she still nodded obediently. Fukang'an's words made perfect sense, and besides, he had promised not to leave the child in Mudan Hall.
Previously, the old lady had taken such good care of her unborn child that she worried the old lady might despise her lowly status and leave the child at the Peony Hall. Now that Fukang'an had spoken, she was willing to patiently wait a few days to raise her son, which she considered worthwhile.
Outside Furong Garden, the roof tiles shimmered beneath the high eaves. Fukang'an stood upright, his hands clasped behind his back. Yan Ning stepped forward, wrapped her arms around his, and said, "Xiang'er will listen to you! Tell her only after she's fully recovered! Only then can we save her life!"
Fukang'an nodded and reached out to embrace Yan Ning.
Rongxi looked at the beautiful couple standing outside the courtyard, mustered her courage, and stepped forward. She knelt down, "General, Madam, this servant has something to report!"
The two turned around and saw Rongxi carrying a pair of worn-out women's floral-patterned shoes. Yan Ning, with her sharp eyes, immediately recognized them as the shoes Xiang'er had worn while admiring the flowers. She had thought the shoes were beautiful that day and had asked the steward to sew her a pair, but then Xiang'er had her accident. She had long forgotten about it.
Fukang'an nodded. Rongxi, as if going to the execution ground, wiped the sweat from his forehead with a garment made of inferior fabric, closed his eyes, and spoke the words that had been stuck in his heart for several days.
"That day, my aunt was wearing these shoes when she walked by the Taihu stone. She stepped on some loose pebbles and bumped her stomach on the stone. I initially thought she had lost her footing, but later, when I was tidying up, I discovered that although the shoes were tightly stitched, the seams weren't sewn onto the heel; they were glued there. I suspect someone deliberately harmed my aunt. I beg the General and Madam to seek justice for my aunt!"
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