Slow Passing Years - Chapter 1

“The concubine is called Youyun; she is two months with child, and that unfilial son of mine is set on keeping the baby.”

The Marchioness wore a kindly expression, yet her words were blunt:

“I know full well that for a concubine to be pregnant before the principal wife has even entered the household is a disgrace to the family. What noble house would still marry their daughter into such a situation?”

That was true enough. Marquis Xuanping’s title had been passed down for generations, and Pei Xun was no idle wastrel who only relied on the protection of his forebears.

Gifted and quick-witted, he was named Tanhua at twenty and appointed to the Hanlin Academy.

Young and brilliant, deeply valued by His Majesty, he ought, by rights, to have had no worries over marriage.

Yet Pei Xun kept a beloved concubine in his quarters. Though she came from the Music House, she was exceptionally talented.

Pei Xun cherished and loved her, even declaring for her sake that he would never take a wife in this life.

Once those words were spoken, what highborn family would still dare discuss marriage with Marquis Xuanping Manor?

“It would not be impossible to lower our requirements and marry him to a respectable girl of humbler birth, but after thinking it over and over…”

The Marchioness sighed. “I cannot, in good conscience, make a good family’s daughter leap into this fire pit.”

I arched a brow. “So the Marchioness would have me leap in instead?”

“Because I know your two broken engagements were not due to ill fortune,” the Marchioness said, looking at me. “It was because you did not wish to marry.”

I was born into the Cui family, a family of upright scholarly repute. My father holds a third-rank office, and two marriages had already been discussed for me.

The first engagement was to a cousin of the Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices. When the man’s mother passed away, the betrothal was called off because of the mourning period.

That year, I had just reached my coming of age.

The second engagement was to the second son of the Transmission Commissioner. When the man’s family was convicted of a crime, the marriage contract was dissolved.

That year, I was already seventeen.

After two troubled marriage negotiations, rumors spread in the streets that I had an overly hard birth chart and was unfit for a good match. Thus, at twenty, I remained unmarried.

“Those words are far too serious, Marchioness.” I brewed the tea. “The affairs of the world are hard to predict. My marriage prospects have been rough-how does that mean I was unwilling to marry?”

“I know you had a full elder sister who married into a Duke’s Manor five years ago, yet because of childbirth, she passed away before she was even twenty.”

The Marchioness said, “I also know that the rumor about your overly hard birth chart was spread by you yourself.”

My fingers twitched around the teacup, but I said nothing.

“Miss Cui, you were raised amid brocade and luxury, with every aspect of your food, clothing, and daily life refined,” the Marchioness asked. “Can you truly bear to go to a Daoist temple and cultivate in hardship?”

My heart stirred. I had to admit, the Marchioness’s words had struck me where it mattered.

This world is truly harsh on women. I avoided marriage, and for me to remain unwed at twenty already counted as my parents’ tolerance.

The Cui family could provide for me for the rest of my life, but it could not shelter me forever. I had to find a path for myself.

Entering the Dao as a Daoist priestess-practicing cultivation without shaving one’s hair-was accepted by the world, but it was still the worst possible option.

“Then, Marchioness,” I smiled, “if I marry over, what can you give me?”

“I can guarantee that you will never suffer the pain of childbirth in this life,” the Marchioness said, “yet you will still have sons and daughters to support you in your old age.”