Han Ji

Chapter 149 Xun Cai is Pregnant

"Yide, courage is a good thing." He looked at Zhang Fei with deep eyes, "But in the future... we need not only courage, but also strategy."

Zhang Fei seemed to understand, but nodded, "Whatever Brother says goes!"

The wind picked up, whipping up the snow from the city wall and stinging people's faces like needles.

Liu Bei turned and left the city.

Guan Yu followed behind, and halfway down, he looked back at the east.

The clouds pressed down even lower.

It was the 24th day of the twelfth lunar month, early morning.

Xun Cai was awakened by a wave of nausea.

She opened her eyes; it was still dark, the window paper a bluish-gray hue. Her stomach churned, and a wave of acid rose to her throat. She covered her mouth, threw off the covers, and jumped out of bed. Without even putting on her shoes, she rushed barefoot to the door and lay down under the eaves, dry heaving.

All that came out was clear water.

The maid Xiaohe rushed out in a panic, draping a robe over her shoulders: "Madam! What's wrong? I'll go get the physician..."

"No." Xun Cai grabbed her, her hands icy cold. "Don't make a sound."

She took a few breaths, straightened up, and placed her hand on her lower abdomen. It was still flat, but it felt different; something was sinking down, warm and comforting.

My period is half a month late.

She already had a feeling about it, but wasn't sure. Now that she's experiencing morning sickness, it's probably true.

Xiao He helped her back to the room and brought her warm water to rinse her mouth. Xun Cai sat on the edge of the couch, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her clothes, her eyes somewhat dazed.

child.

Her child with Liu Bei.

They've been married for almost two years, sharing the same bed and whispering sweet nothings. Liu Bei treats her well, genuinely well, not just superficially.

If she coughed once at night, he would wake up and drape a robe over her shoulders or pour her water. No matter how busy he was with official duties, he would always make time to talk to her every day, asking her what books she had read or what she was thinking about.

She knew he wanted children. Not to carry on the family line, but to have a home. Liu Bei lost his father at a young age and had a deep attachment to family. He often said, "When we have children, we'll teach them to read and practice martial arts, and watch them grow up."

Now, it really exists.

Xun Cai lowered his head and gently pressed his hand on his abdomen.

Inside, a little life is growing.

At noon, Liu Bei returned to his residence for lunch.

The meal was laid out: three dishes and a soup: stewed mutton, stir-fried cabbage, pickled bracken, and a fish soup that was milky white.

Xun Cai sat opposite him, scooped out only half a bowl of porridge, and drank it in small sips.

Liu Bei looked at her: "Are you feeling unwell?"

Xun Cai stopped eating with her chopsticks.

She looked up at Liu Bei. Liu Bei looked back at her with concern in his eyes.

"Husband..." she said softly, her ears turning red, "My period... is half a month late."

Liu Bei's chopsticks stopped in mid-air.

He stared at Xun Cai for several breaths. His gaze shifted from doubt to realization, to shock, and finally to ecstasy. It was like a pot of water boiling, bubbling and gurgling.

He put down his chopsticks, stood up, walked to Xun Cai's side, and squatted down.

"Really...really?" His voice was a little hoarse.

Xun Cai nodded, his eyes suddenly welling up with tears.

Liu Bei grabbed her tightly, his arms around her. Xun Cai could feel his body trembling slightly, his chest heaving violently.

"Okay—" he murmured, "Okay."

He held her for a long time before letting go, his hand gently touching Xun Cai's lower abdomen, as light as if he were touching a feather.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"The physician said it's been over a month," Xun Cai wiped her eyes. "The pulse is smooth and the fetus is healthy."

Liu Bei hugged her again, this time less tightly.

"From today onwards, take good care of yourself." He stood up and called out, "Xiao He!"

Xiaohe ran in.

"Go tell the kitchen that from now on, the lady's meals should be prepared separately, and they should be refined and nourishing. Also, have someone clean up the west wing and use it as a delivery room." Liu Bei spoke quickly. "And, level all the high thresholds in the mansion. Sweep the snow in the courtyard clean and don't let it freeze."

Xiaohe responded immediately and ran out.

Liu Bei sat back down next to Xun Cai and took her hand.

"Cherrie," he looked into her eyes, "thank you."

Xun Cai smiled, but tears fell from her eyes.

The news spread like wildfire.

In the afternoon, Du Xi was the first to arrive.

The carriage drove directly into the mansion gate and unloaded ten bolts of Shu brocade. They were all top-quality Yizhou brocade, with intricate patterns that shimmered even in the overcast sky. There were also two sandalwood chests; when opened, they revealed neatly stacked gold ingots, a golden expanse.

"A small token of my appreciation," Du Xi said, cupping his hands in a gesture of respect, "to help the lady recover."

Then Wang Chun arrived, accompanied by four servants, carrying a three-foot-tall red coral. The coral's branches were outstretched, its color as red as blood, making it particularly eye-catching against the snow.

"These are rare items that just arrived from the South China Sea caravan," Wang Chun laughed. "They'll be nice to display in the house for a festive touch."

Yang Song presented a pair of jade ruyi scepters, white as mutton fat, carved with cloud patterns. Chen Lun presented two hundred-year-old ginseng roots, their whiskers resembling an old man's beard.

The gifts filled half a room.

Liu Bei stood under the corridor watching Jian Yong compile the register, recording each item one by one.

"Ten bolts of Shu brocade, two hundred gold ingots, one coral, a pair of jade ruyi scepters, two ginseng roots..." Jian Yong said, turning the abacus beads, which clicked.

Liu Bei took the order and looked at it.

"The brocade will be stored away for future rewards. Gold ingots will be used for military pay. Coral and jade artifacts... keep them for later distribution." Liu Bei paused, then added, "The ginseng will be reserved for Xunzi."

Jian Yong jotted it down, his pen pausing slightly.

"Brother," he whispered, "there's still no word from Su Gu's side."

"He will come," Liu Bei said.

That night, on Rice Warehouse Road.

The wind whipped up the snow on the ground, mixing it with sand and dust, and stung our faces. The mountain path on Micang Road was icy; the horses' hooves crunched and slipped with every step.

Qian Zhao, accompanied by twenty personal guards, arrived at the abandoned post station at dusk.

The post station dates back to the Huang era, and half of it has collapsed. The adobe walls are pitted and uneven from wind erosion, and the door is long gone, leaving only a dark, gaping doorway that looks like a toothless mouth. The courtyard is filled with ankle-deep snow, and withered grass sticks out from it, a mix of yellow and black.

"Boss," a guard reined in his horse and whispered, "there's light."

As soon as Qian Zhao raised his hand, the twenty riders behind him stopped simultaneously.

He squinted at the post station. The collapsed half was pitch black, but on the intact half, a faint yellow light shone through the broken window—not moonlight, but firelight, flickering and carrying the shadows of people.

At this time of day, in this weather, in this place.

"Dismount," Qian Zhao said.

Twenty men landed silently, their reins tied to withered trees by the roadside. The horses' hooves were wrapped in thick cloth, making only a muffled thud as they stepped on the snow. Qian Zhao gestured, and ten men circled around from behind, while ten others followed him from the front.

The snow was thick, sinking up to her calves with every step. Qian Zhao walked slowly, drawing her sword half an inch from its waist, pressing the scabbard against her leg to avoid making a sound. The wind howled in from the mountain pass, drowning out the sound of her footsteps.

When we were about twenty steps away from the post station, we heard voices coming from inside.

"...This awful weather, how many more days do we have to travel?"

"Almost there. Once we exit Micang Road, someone will meet us in Shangyong."

His voice was rough and hoarse, with a Jingchu accent.

Qian Zhao lay hidden behind a snowdrift and peered through a crack in the broken window.

A fire was burning inside; the firewood was damp, and the smoke was thick, blackening the walls. Five people sat around the fire, all dressed in coarse cloth tunics and wrapped in fur coats. The one in the lead was a man in his thirties, with a square face and a scar on his brow, who was poking the fire with a stick.