Chapter 3
The women Sun Yurong knew in the capital were always ready to clash. The moment she spotted Yunzhu's weak spot, she charged in to mock her, sharp and biting.
But Yunzhu didn't play along. Instead, she struck back decisively, leaving no room for games.
Sun Yurong came away empty-handed. Her brother, Sun Guangfu-a stocky brute with ears like an ape-stormed off in frustration, stomping his way down the mountain like a tantrum-prone ox.
Once the siblings were gone, the pavilion was peaceful again.
Cao Shao watched Yunzhu. She appeared calm, gazing at the distant mountains, but her lips were tight, betraying her simmering anger.
He stepped closer, touched her head lightly, and said, "She's nothing but a squawking crow. Don't waste your breath on her."
Yunzhu turned her head, avoiding his gaze.
She understood his point, but the insult had been directed at her father. Forgiving something like that? Only a saint could manage it.
"Let's head back," she said, brushing off Cao Shao's hand and starting down the path.
Cao Shao knew words wouldn't soothe her. So, he stayed by her side silently, his presence doing the talking.
Three days later, early morning, the battle report from Ganzhou reached the capital.
Cao Xun, the Great Imperial Uncle, wasn't eager to smear Li Yong's name-personal connections mattered. But military rules were clear: reports from the border had to go to court without bias. No exceptions.
Li Yong didn't bother with cover-ups. He owned his defeats and sent a confession along with the report.
In the imperial court, Emperor Yuan Qing erupted in anger. He commanded Li Yong's return to the capital, stating that keeping him on the battlefield, even without command, would destroy morale.
Word spread like wildfire. If Li Yong had been just another mediocre officer, three losses in a row would've made him a laughingstock, but that's it.
But Li Yong wasn't just anyone. He was the son of the legendary, undefeated Duke Ningguo. Favored by the Emperor for two decades, beloved by the women of the capital, his disgrace hit harder. His once-shining reputation crumbled, and the city's mood turned savage. Even the beggars mocked his name.
For the common folk, it was gossip fodder-a topic for curses and jokes. But for certain gangs who hated the rich and powerful, it was open season. They gathered outside Duke Ningguo's mansion, jeering and heckling.
"Madam, the troublemakers outside are increasing. Shall we round them up and hand them to the authorities?" the steward asked as he entered Zhenghe Hall, his face sour with worry.
One glance at the mob and it was clear-they weren't just regular rabble. Hidden among them were enemies of the Ningguo Duke's family, stirring the pot.
Meng shi, the mistress of the house, was about to agree when Yunzhu cut in, her tone dripping with mockery.
"For this little crime? The authorities would give them two days in jail, tops. They'd get free meals and walk away untouched. Too soft."
The steward nodded, catching her drift. Yunzhu was known for her sharp, ruthless ideas. He waited, curious, as she laid out her plan.
"Here's what we'll do: round them up, toss them back out the gates, and charge each family a hundred wen to take them back. Those who won't pay? Let them rot on gruel until they starve."
-------TN:
[ ] æ (wén) can refer to a specific type of ancient Chinese coin used from the Zhou dynasty (770 BCE - 256 BCE) until the Tang dynasty (618 CE - 907 CE).
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A hundred wen was all it took to put those punks in their place. After feeling the sting of it, they wouldn't dare cause trouble again.
Steward: "But what if they accuse us of being too harsh?"
Yunzhu: "Tell them this-our doorposts and courtyard bricks are worth money. If they mess with them, they can either pay up or take it to the authorities and cover the full cost. Their choice."
The steward grinned, knowing only an idiot wouldn't see the smart way out.
Those thugs were nothing but parasites clinging to their patrons for protection. Now, they'd have no choice but to skulk at home like cowards.
When Duke Ning's guards stormed out and snatched the loudest dozen troublemakers, everyone else froze in shock.
It didn't take long before the crowd scattered. Those who were caught didn't dare make a sound after hearing the steward's warning. They knelt outside the Duke's gates, filthy and defeated, waiting for their families to bail them out.
That's the power of a hundred wen. The families who came to collect their troublemakers were livid, tearing into their kin: "You idiots! Why get involved in someone else's mess? Did you think shouting would make you important? If you've got guts, go fight in Ganzhou! Take on the Hu soldiers if you're so bold. Talk is cheap!"
With that public humiliation, no one dared step out of line near Duke Ningguo's mansion again.
The staff cleaned the area thoroughly, leaving the threshold of the Duke's residence pristine and imposing as ever.
But whispers began circulating about Yunzhu's family. The usual noble allies of the Lis were clearly pulling back, their attitudes shifting.
*
The Cao family, meanwhile, lived in the Duke Mansion of Dingguo.
For days, Cao Shao had been brooding. His sweetheart Yunzhu's family was being mocked and dragged through the mud, and it weighed on him. He rushed to see her, but his words of comfort couldn't erase the humiliation.
People like Sun Yurong were practically salivating over the chaos, waiting to stir the pot further. Yunzhu, ever proud and sharp, refused to flinch.
But Cao Shao wasn't the type to sit and sulk. He resolved to act.
After much thought, he approached his mother, Pan Shi, and declared firmly, "Mother, people love piling on when things go wrong, but true loyalty shines in tough times. I want you to send a marriage proposal to the Li family. Now."
He wanted Yunzhu to know that no matter how bad things got, his commitment to her was unshakable. He also wanted to send a message to the vultures circling the Lis: not everyone was a target, and not all alliances could be crushed.
Pan Shi almost laughed, shaking her head. "Marriage isn't a game to settle scores, son."
Cao Shao pressed on, unwavering. "Yunzhu and I already planned to marry. Doing it now shows her how serious I am."
Pan Shi sighed, her tone firm but patient. "You're young and impulsive. The Lis are in turmoil right now-what makes you think they'd welcome a marriage proposal? Your timing would only make things harder for them, especially Yunzhu. She might think you're using this situation for your gain. Do you want to burden her with even more trouble? Can you bear seeing her resent you for it?"
Cao Shao's brow furrowed, frustration flickering across his face.
He knew well Yunzhu had real feelings for him, but half the time, he couldn't figure out what was going on in her head. Even when he tried to make her happy, she'd still end up upset.
His mother's worries weren't baseless.
Pan Shi pressed on, "Duke Ningguo will be back in Beijing soon. Sit tight. Once this storm blows over and the dust settles, I'll make the call for you."
Cao Shao gave a distracted nod, barely paying attention.
*
In early November, Li Yong stormed back into the capital as icy snowflakes whipped through the air.
He knelt on the cold stone floor of the Qianqing Palace's west hall, the polished black bricks gleaming faintly, throwing stark light on the imposing figure of the military attache bowing before the dragon couch.
Li Yong, a warrior with a commanding frame and ruggedly handsome face, carried an air of sharp intellect honed by forty hard-won years. Once a blazing spring sun in his youth, he now radiated the calm, ruthless certainty of an autumn moon.
Emperor Yuan Qing lounged atop the dragon couch with languid authority, one hand stroking the silken fur of a white cat draped across his lap while the other propped his chin. His gaze lingered indifferently on the snow piling up along the window ledge, dismissing Li Yong as though he were a shadow.
Li Yong waited in silence, eyes downcast, the weight of the emperor's disdain heavy in the air.
After what felt like an eternity, Yuan Qing's eyes flicked back to the men kneeling before him.
"You look frail," he said, his voice smooth yet cutting. "Thinner. Paler."
The emperor's casual insult hit like a hammer. Fire flashed in Li Yong's eyes, his fists clenching, his entire being straining to maintain composure.
Despite two months of grueling effort, the tan he once bore was gone, his face marred with exhaustion-a stark change that hadn't escaped the emperor's sharp eye.
Yuan Qing let out a slow, deliberate sigh, each breath laced with cruel indifference.
"The old Duke called you a fool all his life. I humored him. Before his death, he warned me-again and again-not to hand you command. I ignored him. Now I see the truth of his words. He was wise. I have been blind."
Though his voice was steady, the rebuke slashed deep. Li Yong's proud features burned with shame, his head bowing lower with each passing moment.
The name Li carried weight that spanned centuries. The Li family had fought alongside the founding emperor during the bloody Southern and Northern wars, their blood sealing the foundation of the empire. Their glory was immortalized in the Gongchen Pavilion, their statues equal to the great emperors themselves.
Li Yong's lineage traced through generations of warriors, strategists, and leaders, men who had earned titles of Duke and Marquis through unshakable loyalty and unmatched brilliance. Never in over two hundred years had a Li disgraced the family name.
Li Yong's father, the old Duke, had been a lion of a man, defending the empire's borders for thirty years with an iron will, revered by soldiers and feared by enemies. His reputation was untouchable.
And Li Yong himself? Handsome, brilliant, with a razor-sharp mind for strategy and war, he had been anointed by two emperors as a star rising above his peers. He was the perfect soldier, the ideal commander-until now.
But his first true campaign had shattered him. Defeat had come swiftly, brutally, despite every tactic, every principle of war he had followed to the letter.
The bitter sting of failure coiled in his chest like a serpent.
How had it come to this?
How could he, a son of the legendary Li family, fall so low?
After this humiliating defeat, Li Yong not only disgraced the legacy of his ancestors but also tarnished the Emperor's reputation-a ruler who had placed unwavering trust in him. Overwhelmed by the weight of his failure, Li Yong threw himself to the ground, admitting his guilt and submitting to whatever punishment the Emperor saw fit to impose.
His hands pressed against the cold, unyielding palace floor, Li Yong resolved with steel-like determination: if his life was demanded as payment, he would not utter a word of protest.
The Emperor, Yuan Qing, gazed at him, a weary sigh escaping his lips.
Li Yong had been by his side since their childhood, chosen as his companion at the tender age of eight. Together, they had grown into men. Li Yong was more than a loyal subject-he was sharp-witted, magnetic, and unerringly considerate. He had been the Emperor's right hand, a steady presence in moments of solitude and struggle.
To Emperor Yuan Qing, Li Yong was no mere subordinate; he was a brother in all but blood.
How, then, could Yuan Qing bring himself to destroy the man who had once been his closest ally? Even as anger burned within him, he knew: executing every general who failed in battle would turn military command into a death sentence-and leave his empire defenseless.
"I owe my people an explanation," Yuan Qing said, his voice sharp and unyielding. "You'll keep your title, but your duties end here. Step down."
Li Yong trembled, tears threatening to spill. And yet, those tears were not of despair but of relief-the Emperor had shown him mercy.
Bowing repeatedly, his face streaked with tears, Li Yong withdrew, his chest heavy with shame and gratitude alike.
Outside the palace gates, Li Yao, heir to the Duke, stood motionless against the biting wind and snow. Flakes clung to his dark brows, sharpening his features into a picture of grim resolve. He was unshaken.
At the sound of footsteps, Li Yao turned his head to see his father emerge, crushed beneath the weight of his failure. For all his resentment of his father's weakness, Li Yao found himself unable to turn away. Jaw tight, he extended a hand to steady his father, using the other to wipe his tears and snot with a handkerchief.
It was only then that Li Yong noticed his eldest son waiting for him. He opened his mouth to speak but found himself strangled by emotion, words stuck in his throat.
"Mother and sister are waiting," Li Yao said quietly. "Stand tall for their sake."
Li Yong let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "How can I?"
Li Yao's voice turned sharp, cutting through the tension. "Yet you can still write and wield a bow better than most. You still have fire in you. Do you really plan to end up like the Duke of Qi, who can barely mount a horse without help? Is that the man you've become?"
The image of Sun Chao, the bloated, inept Duke of Qi, rose unbidden in Li Yong's mind. The insult struck like a blade.
Was he truly nothing more than a relic?
A defeated, broken man no better than Sun Chao?
No.
The thought ignited a fierce blaze in his chest.
His spine straightened, and his eyes burned with renewed determination. Snow whipped around him, but he stood unmoved, radiating defiance. He was no lesser man, no crumbling shadow of his past. He was a warrior, a man who had once shaped legends.
He was not finished yet.
Li Yao took a step back, startled by the sudden force in his father's presence, but quickly shook it off. He would not be swayed by a mere glimmer of pride.
"Go home," Li Yao barked, sharp and impatient. "Now."
Inside the palace, Emperor Yuan Qing watched from a distance, his own heart heavy. He had seen that fire before, and it both pained and reassured him.
---
Author's note:
Duke of Sun: I didn't provoke you-why drag my name into this?