Chapter 247: Chapter 247

Unaware of all the twists and turns back home, on Mu Yang’s wedding day, An Ning happened to receive joyous news.

Because of Situ Jing’s condition, the Wang mansion kept an imperial physician on standby almost all the time, checking the safety pulse every other day.

That night, just as An Ning began to show a little discomfort, the elderly imperial physician who had been dozing off hurried over with his medicine box.

Not to mention how delighted Mu Yang was when she heard—she kept exclaiming that this child was destined for her. If not for considerations of seniority and propriety, she might have immediately claimed the role of the child’s godmother.

On the other hand, Situ Jing, the biological father, after a brief moment of joy, could not help but show a trace of worry in his usually composed features.

Especially during the first few months, when the fetus’s condition wasn’t stable, at night An Ning could even feel the person beside her shifting now and then and occasionally glancing at her.

She pretended not to notice the other’s unease and went on eating and drinking as usual; when she felt especially uncomfortable she would groan softly and hug the person at her chest tightly. Out of An Ning’s sight, the furrow between Situ Jing’s brows grew heavier and heavier.

Fortunately, things improved when Yu arrived.

Perhaps it was because she had her beautiful mother by her side, or maybe they had passed the danger period — An Ning gradually became lively again. She resumed teasing the birds and playing with the fish every day; at worst she would pull along visiting sisters to admire flowers and watch plays. Life was happily ordinary.

When winter arrived, they all returned to live at the manor, dragging the whole household back. It was a pity there were no hot springs to soak in anymore, but a warm room beat everything else.

Situ Jing, however, fretted daily over his lively, seemingly careless wife.

He reached out with practiced hands to cup her small, milk-white foot in his palm. Soon, the man’s slightly low voice sounded in the room:

“A-Ning, didn’t I tell you not to walk barefoot on the floor anymore?”

“I… I’m just used to it!”

In winter, a thick rug had long been spread on the floor.

The Hot Spring Manor kept a comfortable temperature; before she was pregnant she liked to hop about barefoot on the rug. Under his rare solemn gaze, An Ning, unusually sheepish, tucked her head in. Her slightly splayed toes had already taken on a faint pink.

Before she could explain, in the next instant her whole body was lifted into the air and gently laid onto the soft bed, the motion carefully avoiding her waist and abdomen.

“Are you… angry, husband?”

“Actually, it was really just a habit. Even if you hadn’t come over, I wouldn’t have actually stepped down hard.”

She still knew her limits.

Besides, Chun Lan and the others outside were not slack either.

“And really, except for the first two months, it’s been fine. The baby hasn’t been fussy; besides being heavier I really feel the same as before!”

As if worried he wouldn’t believe her, An Ning nodded again for emphasis. Her smiling eyes seemed to say: Don’t you know how I am?

Gazing at his wife’s clear, bright eyes for a long, long while, Situ Jing at last gently drew her into his arms and said softly, “Sorry. I just—”

But what “just” meant, he did not say.

From that day on, in her naivety An Ning seemed to sense something and restrained herself more in her actions; even the bird she used to adore was only brought over for a quick look now and then.

But he grew bored easily and liked to play with things — and as the one who accompanied her nearly every day, Situ Jing naturally was the first to suffer.

Spring was approaching and the sun was uncommonly warm.

Not far from the main hall, beneath a red plum tree, a soft mat had been placed there at some point.

Feeling the steady breaths of the person in his arms, Situ Jing finally reached out and carefully picked a lock of her long hair between his fingers.

In the plum-filled courtyard, a young man clad in a snow-blue cloak raised his hand and awkwardly undid the little braids he had hastily made in her hair, then resecured them simply with a plain white jade hairpin.

There was not the slightest impatience in his expression. After finishing, Situ Jing, with practiced ease, lifted her into his arms.

Staring at the sweet sleeping face in his embrace, a low, soft chuckle escaped from someone nearby.

An Ning’s due date was in April next year. At that time she and the also-pregnant Mu Yang were discussing the latest fashionable jewelry and clothes in the capital.

Even being pregnant did not stop her love of beauty. Only when familiar labor pains started beneath her did An Ning finally react.

The delivery went smoothly, but even so, outside the delivery room Situ Jing’s face had gone pale.

How long it lasted, no one knew; only when the midwife reminded him did he wrap the baby in a blue swaddling cloth and hold the child, his gaze fixed on the delivery room’s direction without daring to move a step.

Everyone there was shrewd; the matrons who had come immediately understood and, while inwardly sighing, quickly plastered on smiles and said, “Your Highness, rest assured. The little heir was born smoothly; the Princess Consort has always had a strong constitution, and this time her vital energy was not harmed…”

“A-Ning, look — this child really looks just like you…”

Children change so fast, especially after the full month celebration. Besides a resemblance in outline to his father, the child’s brows and eyes were cut from the same mold as An Ning’s.

As the saying goes, love for the house extends to the sparrow on the eaves — Yu was over the moon. Yang, who occasionally had his say, seemed to have thought of something and fell into a strange silence for a moment, quietly sipping his fragrant tea.

Only then did he speak:

“How has the prince’s mood been lately?”

Still uncertain what her husband was thinking, Yu happily nodded: “Of course — our son-in-law is pleased. Oh, recently the palace even specially sent word saying His Majesty would like to see our little Rui’er!”

“And as A-Ning said earlier, even the name ‘Rui’er’ was personally chosen by the palace! It’s meant to signify wisdom and clarity!”

Just as her words fell, Yang couldn’t help but clear his throat.

“Husband, what’s wrong?”

Why was his face suddenly so odd? Shouldn’t he be glad that their grandson had earned the emperor’s favor?

But Yang Yuanze soon stopped worrying.

Because the next day at court, an imperial censor, a man famous for his uprightness, stepped forward:

“Your Majesty, I, Jiang Mu, accuse the Second Prince of colluding with the Duke of Cheng’en’s household to secretly manufacture weapons with treasonous intent!”

When the words fell, on the throne the Mingde Emperor’s eyes flared:

“This matter is grave. Does Inspector Jiang have evidence?”