Chapter 5: The Little Rabbit
Chapter 5: The Little Rabbit
The incident involving the Yuwen family posed no fundamental threat to the Vice Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices. Though Feng Yuanjun had been betrothed to the Yuwens, he had no prior knowledge of Yuwen Xiao's misdeeds. With the eunuch Gao Lishi speaking on his behalf in the palace, Feng would undoubtedly absolve himself of any blame. As for exposing Yuwen Xiao's shameful acts to uphold justice… what use was that to Xue Chongxun?
Yet Yuwen Xiao's secrets were not entirely useless.
Xue Chongxun ordered his servants to stop heating the stones and pouring water. He soaked in the hot water tub, his body relaxing into exhaustion.
"I'm returning to the estate," Xue said, glancing at San Niang, who was drenched. "It's getting colder here. Bathe, change, and stay in the Misty Pavilion courtyard. You'll be safe."
The Misty Pavilion stood just across the street from Xue's mansion, the Duke of Wei's residence. With a fief of three thousand households, his wealth was evident in the estate's ornate carvings and lavish halls—though it paled in scale and grandeur compared to his mother Princess Taiping's palace. The compound centered on two main buildings connected by corridors, flanked by smaller courtyards.
Xue's bedroom lay behind sliding lattice doors. Pale walls, bamboo curtains, and paper-paneled windows framed a tranquil classical aesthetic. A large painting of a lone crane in flight adorned the wall, its implied vastness making the room feel airier.
A flower-shaped incense burner with a gourd-shaped lid emitted wisps of smoke, its fragrance soothing. In this sanctuary, Xue could momentarily shed his burdens. He picked up a thread-bound copy of Strategies of the Warring States edited by Liu Xiang and settled onto a cushioned bench. By chance, he flipped to the page on "The Cunning Hare's Three Burrows"—a fable he knew well, but now read with leisure.
A timid voice interrupted: "My lord, may I enter?"
Recognizing the voice as Pei Niang, daughter of the cook "Dumpling Beauty," Xue recalled the groom Pang Er's earlier mention of sending her as a chamber maid. As servants of the Xue household, their bodies and fates belonged to their masters.
"I told your stepfather not to send you," Xue replied.
"Have I… done something wrong?" Her voice quivered.
"The door's unlatched. Come in."
The door slid open slowly. A girl entered, head bowed, hands clasped tightly at her waist. Her shoulders trembled with nerves.
Pei Niang had a heart-shaped face still soft with youth, long lashes framing downcast eyes that glimmered like dewdrops. Her frost-pale feet clacked in wooden clogs. Though dressed in rough hemp, her slender neck gleamed with the milky innocence of untouched jade.
At thirteen or fourteen—barely a middle schooler in another world—she was marriageable by Tang standards. Yet after recent events, Xue found the idea of bedding this child unsettling.
"My lord… will it hurt very much?" she whispered.
Xue stared.
"Mother said to endure the pain… so long as you take me as your concubine and let me stay with you."
"You're too young. Return to your mother. Close the door on your way out."
"She'll beat me." Pei Niang lifted tear-bright eyes.
As a mere servant, she had no right to negotiate. Xue's temper flared, but her next words disarmed him: "I hate pain most… Mother cries when she strikes me too…"
Xue softened.
"I'm not lying! See the marks—" She began undoing her clothes.
Once permitted, Pei Niang pressed her advantage. For a slave girl of beauty but no talents—whose future might involve being traded between masters or sinking to brothels—becoming concubine to the mighty Xue clan meant security and keeping her family close.
Before Xue's nanmu desk, inlaid with marble from Annam, Pei Niang stood bare to the waist, arms crossed over budding breasts. Chilled in the spring night, her skin pebbled as she turned to reveal red welts striping her tender back.
"If you send me back, she'll whip me again."
"Dress first," Xue sighed. "There's medicinal wine in the cabinet. Apply it."
As he smoothed the liniment over her satin skin, his fingers traced the inward curve of her waist, the sudden swell of hips. The white cleft of her buttocks peeked through skirt folds.
"My lord, may I use this on my front?"
"More injuries?"
"No… the rough cloth chafes." She touched her chest. "Mother said my underclothes were too ugly… might displease you."
"This is for bruises. But try this." Xue cut two squares of parchment, glued them into makeshift pasties. "Stick these where it rubs."
"It works! How did you think of this?"
"Nipple covers," Xue muttered. "Sleep in the outer chamber tonight."
Pei Niang brightened. As a personal maid, her status would rise above ordinary servants. She kowtowed eagerly: "I'll serve you well, my lord!"
"Your stepfather served my family loyally for decades. Don't shame him."
After she withdrew, Xue sat in darkness by the window. No moonlight, only lantern-glow beyond the paper panes. Safety? He never felt safe. The sword of history hung overhead—Princess Taiping's imminent downfall, his father's fate repeated: kin-slain, like so many imperial relatives.
When Xue's lamp died, the estate fell into hushed night. In the stillness, his thoughts wandered—past lives, present schemes. Hesitations arose, yet resolve held. The plan remained.