The matter was thus settled. Wanwan fulfilled her dream of becoming a mother, and Lan Zhou also achieved his wish.
The biological parentage of a son could not be changed, but altering the official family records was a major affair that required notifying clan relatives and informing everyone. Lan Zhou performed the grand ceremony of three kowtows and nine prostrations to Wanwan in the ancestral hall, with the entire extended Yuwen family serving as witnesses. From now on, he would be the biological son of Grand Princess, a change in status that was earth-shaking. Not only would he have a place in the Yuwen family genealogy, but even in the Murong clan’s imperial jade records.
Between blood relations and adoptive ones, having preferences was human nature. But if Grand Princess remained childless forever, then all of Lan Zhou’s privileges would be equivalent to those of a legitimate heir, and Lan Ting could never again stand shoulder to shoulder with him.
The observers tasted various flavors in this development. After the grand ceremony, they dispersed from the ancestral hall. Beijing folk speak of “seven great aunts and eight great sisters-in-law”—when they gathered together, there was always gossip. They had endless family matters to discuss, whispering behind people’s backs: “Grand Princess must be confused. Speaking so casually now, what will happen when she has her own son? In terms of seniority, she’d be ranked behind the eldest son. She’ll regret this sooner or later.”
Others disagreed: “It’s nothing special. Even ten fingers aren’t the same length. Prince’s mansions don’t emphasize birth order—in the future, the capable one will prevail. Besides, while Grand Princess is alive, would she bypass her own ranking to pass the title to a concubine-born son? No matter how clever Lan Zhou is, he can’t change the blood in his veins. It’s just pretty words for appearances—who doesn’t understand the real situation!”
Everyone clicked their tongues: “That Princess is quite pitiful too. She can’t carry her own children to term. Five months along and still miscarrying—that’s no different from full-term delivery. How harmful to her health! Right now you can’t see anything wrong, but when she gets older, she’ll be riddled with ailments that no medicine can cure.”
Everyone knew of the golden branch and jade leaf’s unfortunate circumstances, leading to endless sighs: “People don’t need to be so illustrious and prominent. Keeping quiet and enjoying secret benefits—that’s what’s real. Not to mention distant examples, just look at Lan Zhou’s mother. What was Lady Tala originally? A servant who washed feet for the Grand Consort! Such a despised serving girl, yet she rose step by step, served the young master, and gave birth to such an accomplished son. Though she herself has no prospects, her son has climbed to high branches. What does a woman seek in her lifetime? When she has no son, she depends on her man; after having a son, she depends on her son. She has it all complete. When her son prospers in the future, she’s sure to benefit—her good fortune lies ahead!”
Some disagreed: “Right now she’s exiled to the villa estate, her son has acknowledged a new mother, so it’s not her turn to rise in status through her son’s success. As long as Grand Princess remains, she can go cool off wherever she pleases.”
After saying this, everyone covered their mouths and laughed heartily. No one could predict future events clearly. A person’s fortunes come in waves—today’s toad might become tomorrow’s swan.
These gossips and rumors were all heard by Lan Ting without missing a word.
His young servant whispered in his ear: “My lord, look how the eldest young master has transformed from a dung beetle to a cicada—flying straight up to heaven! What shall we do?”
Lan Ting grunted: “What to do? Cold salad mix!”
Actually, he didn’t like to tax his brain much, preferring to listen to people’s chatter and gossip about this family and that. Regarding his childhood companion’s dramatic change in status, this completely didn’t weigh on his mind. He ate what he should eat, slept when he should sleep, his mood entirely undisturbed.
But his attendant was more shrewd than him, expressing worry about his master’s future prospects: “Legitimate and illegitimate are separated by mountains. The eldest young master will be a proper young lord from now on, while you’re raised by a concubine…”
Before he could finish, he received a kick to his rear, tumbling head over heels.
“Damn your grandmother! You’re the one raised by a concubine! I am Prince Nanyuan’s legitimate son. Anyone who dares look down on me, I’ll scratch his wife’s itch!”
Those around him covered their foreheads, marveling at this uniquely creative and ingenious punishment. But the reality couldn’t be avoided—originally both were illegitimate sons, now they had to be ranked high and low, clearly showing their own master was out of favor, falling short by a head.
Lan Ting sniffed, thought carefully, and quickly resigned himself to fate: “Big brother is indeed closer to Grand Princess. As for me, I can’t forget my own mother. I have a mother—why must I acknowledge someone else?”
This was the difference between having brains and not having brains. The eldest young master also had a mother, and his mother was even cleverer than Consort Zhou. She knew how to pave the way for herself, while their Second Young Master knew which field grew the fattest earthworms and what color willow branches had the best flexibility. Besides this, regarding matters like human relations and social customs, he was completely clueless—truly disheartening.
“You should do something too, curry favor with Grand Princess, at least match the eldest young master.”
Lan Ting refused: “He’s the elder brother, naturally he should be stronger than me. I’ll shrink behind him—this arrangement is quite good. I just think about how to bring my mother back. She’s been sent to Songjiang Prefecture for almost three years now. Every time I visit her, I have to travel such a long distance—I find it troublesome.”
Though his mother was quite open-minded and lived quite prosperously in Songjiang, as a son he always had a longing in his heart—father and mother together was only natural. If Grand Princess wanted to be happy and sent everyone away, what if his mother became unhappy? He felt his mother had arrived earlier than her, so everything should follow the principle of first come, first served. She could acknowledge whoever she wanted as her son—that was her business. He just wanted to bring his mother back. This small request, even if the Kitchen God were to judge, wouldn’t be excessive.
Wanwan naturally also discussed Lan Ting’s situation with Liang Shi, and afterward, upon reflection, felt quite regretful.
“I seem to have done wrong. How could I only think of Lan Zhou and forget about Brother Ting? The child will think I’m playing favorites, won’t he? Will he resent me?”
Liang Shi was trimming his potted plants, weighing each leaf and branch one by one. His level of concentration was no less serious than painting. Hearing her words, he smiled: “Others might be a concern, but you needn’t worry so much about Lan Ting’s side. This child has had a broad heart since he was small. Sometimes I dislike his lack of ambition, but from his standpoint, his every word and action comes from his nature—he lives quite freely. There’s a saying: ‘A person’s heart and mind—with many desires it narrows, with few desires it broadens.’ Lan Ting has no grand aspirations, so in terms of good fortune, he might even surpass Lan Zhou. Actually, before the ceremony, I also tested his attitude. Seeing him so muddled, I didn’t probe further. After all, the way he and his mother get along is different from Lan Zhou and his mother. When the Old Dowager took the child away, she made it explicitly clear that casual visits and meetings weren’t permitted. Lady Tala was broad-minded, but she didn’t dare overstep—she did everything exactly according to the Dowager Consort’s words. Consort Zhou, however, didn’t follow the rules, shamelessly pushing her way into the Dowager Consort’s courtyard daily. So she had many opportunities to spend time with Lan Ting, and Lan Ting’s half-witted nature took after her. To have him call someone else mother would probably make him unwilling at heart too.”
Only then did Wanwan feel relieved, sighing: “So that’s how it is. Indeed, I see he’s very close with Consort Zhou. When mother and son are together, they exchange clever looks, glancing back and forth—only they understand each other.”
He set down his pruning shears to embrace her shoulders, saying softly: “You were determined to acknowledge Lan Zhou, so I couldn’t go against your wishes. If you ask my heart, it remains the same as before. I hope you’ll focus your energy on your own children. Lan Zhou is no longer small—even without anyone looking after him, he can take good care of himself.”
She grasped his jade belt, pressing her face against the gold-embroidered dragon pattern on his chest: “You always say he’s grown up, but I see he’s still small—only twelve years old.”
“Twelve years old…” He shook his head. “When I was twelve, I followed Father on autumn hunts, competing in horsemanship and archery with those cavalrymen, and had already earned the title of Baturu.”
Baturu was the glory of their Qi people, meaning warrior—only the most valiant deserved this honor.
But Wanwan didn’t think a title had any special significance: “Didn’t he also participate in the campaign to pacify Prince Ding’s rebellion? In terms of military merit, he went into battle in armor—that’s better than your rabbit hunting. Do you still look down on him?”
What a devoted mother’s heart, defending him with everything she had. Liang Shi didn’t argue with her, just let her speak.
He had pruned an old boxwood stump into a graceful feminine form—this was the hand, this was the waist—pointing them out to her one by one. After the introduction, he asked with a smile: “Look at this potted plant—does it resemble you?”
Taking a sudden look, the beauty was elegant, truly bearing three parts resemblance. She laughingly pointed at that slender waist: “If only I really had such a graceful figure!” Then, blushing with a shy smile: “I think I’ve gained weight—my dress sashes don’t have the same extra length as before.”
He didn’t believe it and insisted on pulling her into the room to see for himself.
Today’s various joys—who knew how much virtue had been cultivated to accumulate them. Liang Shi now rarely dealt with outside affairs. For urgent matters, he had people report to his study, going out only when absolutely necessary. Wanwan knew he was fulfilling his promise to always accompany her, making up for the time they’d lost before. If asked which part of the mansion he was most familiar with now, it would definitely be the kitchen. He personally arranged her three daily meals. Southern delicate snacks came in countless varieties—they could go a month without repetition. Wanwan was gradually fattened up by his care. After her afternoon nap, snacks were always ready. He found various ways to make her eat more. Though she complained with her mouth, her heart was joyful.
The two were so loving that Wanwan regretted coldly treating him during their wedding period, wasting so much time for nothing. Their current feelings hadn’t faded at all, but had grown even deeper. Clinging together like this, you in me and I in you, everywhere around Yanwan Lake and in Longen Tower held beautiful memories enough to last her lifetime.
In a fluster, breathless, he placed her on the mother-of-pearl and jade square table, and amid her unwilling laughing struggles, he opened her front-buttoned jacket.
His movements were too forceful—carelessly sweeping the food box from the table, which fell to the floor with a crash. The pastries inside scattered in pieces around his feet. Wanwan softly exclaimed: “All ruined!”
He glanced at the floor, seeing sesame seeds and orange cake everywhere, and smiled: “Why do you love eating ‘Favorable Harmony Cakes’?”
She casually responded during their tussling: “Lan Zhou brought them back for me… These cakes used to appear often at imperial banquets, but haven’t been seen for many years. Eating them occasionally reminds me of my childhood.”
His hand movements paused as he asked doubtfully: “Lan Zhou brought them to you?”
Wanwan hummed in agreement: “This child is so thoughtful—even when handling business outside, he still remembers to bring me treats. My affection for him wasn’t wasted.”
Liang Shi’s expression became complicated. After hearing her out, he remained noncommittal.
She probably didn’t know that southern and northern customs differed. Northern “Favorable Harmony Cakes” could grace imperial banquets, but in the south they weren’t treated as common snacks. Even the names were different—the north called them “Favorable Harmony Cakes,” while the south colloquially called them “Dragon-Phoenix Cakes,” generally used as betrothal celebration cakes for men and women.
This type of food wasn’t like ordinary flatbread with stalls every few steps. They were only sold in wedding cake shops—in other words, unless one specifically sought them out, it would be impossible to obtain them. Where had that boy Lan Zhou gotten them?
Worry stirred in his heart, and he lost interest in everything else. He adjusted her clothing properly and straightened up, rubbing his forehead: “I suddenly remembered something that’s been delayed until now—it can’t be put off any longer. You’ve been tired all morning, rest first. I’ll return after finishing this business.”
Seeing his strange expression, Wanwan called out to him anxiously: “What’s happened? You’re making my heart panic terribly like this.”
He softened his expression, saying it was nothing: “His Majesty has ordered the Guizhou troops to be stationed at Andong Guard. That place already has a garrison—we need to figure out how to coordinate so the two forces don’t conflict. His Majesty entrusted this matter to me, but with my poor memory, I completely forgot about it.”
The emperor’s unpredictable moods filled her with dread, and she dared not hold him back, walking him all the way to the second gate. He looked back at her once; she gestured for him to go handle his business. He forced out a smile and hurried toward Silver Peace Hall.
Lan Zhou was inspecting and cataloging records at the office when he learned of his father’s summons and immediately rushed back. Entering the hall, he saw him standing with his back to the main entrance before the throne. Unable to see his face, he couldn’t discern his mood, so he was even more careful, performing a full kowtow: “Following Father’s instructions, I’ve taken control of all the garrison posts where the Guizhou troops are stationed. I initially wanted to secretly replace them, but in the end it proved unfeasible. Large army movements inevitably attract attention—Father’s strategy was better. All four limbs are controlled by the head; as long as we grasp the leaders, these Guizhou troops become ours to command. I’ve coordinated with the Vice Military Commissioner—all officers of thousand-household rank and above in each garrison are our trusted men. Should war break out, at Father’s single command, they can join with our main forces.”
He had returned excitedly to report, but unexpectedly, even after finishing his account, his father still hadn’t turned around. He spoke more and more slowly, looking up anxiously, his hands clasped in salute sinking ever lower. Only after a long wait did he hear his father’s emotionless response: “Be careful in your work. With many people and loose tongues, don’t let word leak out.”
Lan Zhou responded tremblingly: “Father summoned me—do you have further instructions?”
Another long silence followed. This silence harbored some kind of crisis, as if it were brewing and might explode at any moment, blasting one to pieces.
Liang Shi was deliberating. Some words, even between father and son, couldn’t be spoken lightly. His earlier anger had transformed into lingering worry. He looked up at the portrait of Confucius, and only after a long moment said: “Your adoptive mother dotes on you greatly.”
Lan Zhou was startled, bowing as he said: “I know. Henceforth I will certainly be filial to my adoptive mother.”
He sighed deeply with his hands behind his back: “Pretty words—anyone can say them. What matters most is your heart. You must understand that if this were anyone else, they certainly wouldn’t do such a thing. That she could accept you is your good fortune—you must cherish it and never fail her good intentions. She treats you as her own flesh and blood, so don’t forget your proper place.”
Lan Zhou’s heart tightened inexplicably as he cupped his hands: “I regard my adoptive mother as my true mother. Though these three years have brought many changes and I couldn’t serve at her knees, I never dared forget the kindness of my adoptive mother keeping me at the Grand Princess’s mansion and personally caring for me. Now I’ve come to understand things and can repay my parents’ grace. From now on, whoever dares bully my adoptive mother, I’ll exterminate their entire family.”
Liang Shi frowned, blaming him for his violent nature: “Don’t constantly speak of exterminating entire families.”
Lan Zhou quickly restrained his fierce manner, standing with lowered hands: “Just give them a small lesson to make them regret their actions.”
It seemed one could foresee what kind of miserable end Murong Gaogong would meet falling into his hands. This son was excellent material with great potential to surpass his teacher. He was more determined than himself, and more decisive too.
Cherishing talent, he gave indirect hints and guidance, hoping he would be alert and not develop thoughts that violated human ethics. He knew that guarding against heaven, earth, and his own son was somewhat pathological. But this awkward situation of a young mother and strong son was a breeding ground for problems. With the slightest negligence, great disaster could result, and when jade and pottery shattered together, it would be too late for remedies.