In the spring of the twenty-seventh year of the Jian’yuan era of the Great Qi dynasty, the powerful families of Bianjing city all pitied a certain young lady.
They said that the only daughter of the main branch of the illustrious Shen family, born with celestial beauty and jade-like features, and overflowing with talent and literary grace, who also had a father ennobled as a Duke and a mother granted the title of Grand Princess of Zhengguo, should by all rights have enjoyed a life of perfect fortune. Yet she had been assigned an unfortunate marriage, betrothed to the crippled second son of the Huo family from the border regions, who had lost the use of both legs.
Moreover, the one who had decreed this marriage was none other than the current Emperor himself, whom even the illustrious Duke Yingguo and Grand Princess of Zhengguo could not defy.
As for the reason behind this imperial decree, it was known throughout the court: the second son of the Huo family had once, with time on his hands in his early years, planted a grove of trees on auspicious land at the border. After many years, these trees had grown tall and sturdy, and by fortunate coincidence, they had blocked the invasion of the Xiqiang cavalry this past early spring. For this, he was being rewarded according to his merit.
Planting trees had earned him a heavenly beauty for a wife—that Second Master Huo truly made others green with envy.
Yet how pitiable was Miss Shen in the prime of her youth, who had been the treasured pearl in the palm of the Shen family for fifteen years, but would henceforth have to drink the northwest wind in that desolate land.
Still, though everyone sympathized, at most they would sigh privately behind closed doors. The die was cast, imperial commands could not be violated. They had to open their windows to the light and speak blind words with clear eyes, clasping their hands toward Duke Yingguo to say “Congratulations, congratulations.”
It was hard on the old Duke to plaster a face full of smiles, yet every wrinkle on his face clearly wrote—”This turtle is chanting scriptures, but your father isn’t listening!”
One could hardly blame the usually good-tempered Duke for such crudeness in his wrinkles. If Master Huo the Second were merely a cripple, the Shen family would have accepted it. But what kind of family was the Huo clan?
They were the fierce martial family who, twenty-seven years ago, had served the last Emperor of the previous dynasty with complete loyalty and red-blooded courage, crossing swords with the current Emperor!
That the Emperor had been merciful enough to spare the entire Huo family back then was one thing, but why this now?
Two children—one flowing with the blood of the new dynasty, one bearing the debt of the old dynasty. Even though the Huo family had been stationed at the border for many years and the yellow sands of the northwest had ground down their rebellious bones, this was absolutely not a good marriage match.
With the wedding date of the seventeenth day of the fourth month approaching, the Duke’s manor suffered misfortune upon misfortune—Miss Shen had gone missing.
After receiving the imperial edict, Shen Lingzhen had stayed behind closed doors for several days, gloomy and unhappy. On this particular day, Duke Yingguo thought to take her to Peach Blossom Valley outside the city to lift her spirits. Who knew that in just a moment of inattention, his daughter would vanish.
Disappearing along with Shen Lingzhen were her personal maidservant, as well as her maternal cousin Xue Jie, who had happened to pass through Peach Blossom Valley.
Xue Jie and Shen Lingzhen had known each other since childhood, and he was originally a son-in-law Duke Yingguo had favored. He thus suspected that this young man’s so-called passing by was not truly coincidental, but rather that he had conspired with his daughter to elope.
So initially, the Shen family did not publicize the matter, and together with the Xue family, quietly dispatched people to search. Unexpectedly, at dusk they found the corpse of the Shen family maidservant. Yet Xue Jie had returned home perfectly fine, completely baffled, saying he had absolutely not committed such a treasonous act.
This thoroughly alarmed the old Duke.
With the situation grave, even the Emperor was disturbed. The Imperial Guards were mobilized to search everywhere. Not until nearly the second night watch did they finally find Shen Lingzhen in a mountain cave in the deep mountains outside the city, her clothing soaked with blood, unconscious. They brought her back to the Duke’s manor.
When Duke Yingguo first saw his daughter’s condition, he nearly fainted from fright. Only upon careful examination did he discover that the dripping blood had merely soaked her dress and skirt, and did not come from her own body.
A physician took her pulse and said she had only a few minor scrapes on her body. Her unconscious state was due to shock-induced fever, and she would awaken before long.
Only then did Duke Yingguo breathe a sigh of relief and settle down to listen to the reprimand from Grand Princess Zhao.
But the ins and outs of the matter had not yet been clarified, so how could Zhao Meilan be in the mood to scold her husband for losing their daughter? She merely sat before Shen Lingzhen’s bed with tightly furrowed brows, and only after quite a while did she speak: “Whose cloak is that?”
Duke Yingguo Shen Xuerong stood to one side with his head hanging, stammering. Hearing this, he followed her gaze toward the blood-stained black cloak on the wooden rack, his expression equally puzzled: “When the Imperial Guards found Yinyin, this cloak was draped over her.”
“Yinyin” was Shen Lingzhen’s informal name.
But Shen Lingzhen had clearly only worn a jacket and skirt when she went out today. Moreover, looking at the size and style of the cloak, it didn’t seem like women’s clothing at all.
Zhao Meilan’s expression turned cold. She picked up the cloak to examine it carefully and saw embroidered in the corner a golden pattern that appeared to be a family crest: a tiger with spread wings.
Holding it up to the lamplight, the embroidery thread gleamed brilliantly gold in the candlelight, its color undimmed by mud and dust—clearly no ordinary material.
She frowned: “Which family does this crest belong to?”
Shen Xuerong shook his head to indicate he did not know.
Looking at the superior embroidery thread and craftsmanship, only high-ranking noble families could produce such work, and “tiger” most likely signified a military family. Yet with their status and broad experience spanning two dynasties, neither of them recognized this crest.
This was strange indeed.
Shen Xuerong said: “When Yinyin wakes up, we’ll ask her.”
Zhao Meilan nodded. As she was folding the cloak, she felt something unusual beneath her fingers—the inside of the cloak seemed to have a hidden layer sewn in.
She reached inside and extracted a silk handkerchief from the hidden layer. Unfolding it for a look, she was shocked and alarmed.
——
Shen Lingzhen had muddled dreams all night. She came around at the break of dawn, her head aching and dizzy, barely knowing where she was.
Yesterday, not long after she and her father had arrived at Peach Blossom Valley, servants from the Xue family quietly passed word to her personal maidservant that Xue Jie had urgent matters to discuss with her and requested a private meeting.
She had always been close to this maternal cousin, so she agreed and sent away her father and the attendants, keeping only one maidservant by her side as she went to the appointment.
Upon reaching a secluded corner of the valley, she learned he had come regarding her marriage, saying he had a plan to delay her wedding date. She need only agree, and he would immediately begin preparations.
Although Shen Lingzhen disliked this marriage match, she feared angering the Emperor and implicating both families. She refused Xue Jie on the spot, and thus they parted on bad terms.
Xue Jie galloped away on his horse in a fit of anger. On her return journey, she encountered a group of bandits and was abducted into a carriage.
Thinking of this, Shen Lingzhen was called back to her senses by a voice saying “Fourth Miss.”
Counting together with the second branch, she ranked fourth among the young ladies of her generation in the Shen family.
The maidservant attending her saw she had awakened and immediately sent someone to summon the Grand Princess, while pouring a cup of water to slowly feed her.
Shen Lingzhen had just quenched her thirst when she saw her mother arrive: “Mother…”
Zhao Meilan quickened her steps, sat down by the bed, and patted her shoulder: “My dear Yinyin, everything is fine now.” After comforting her daughter with a few words, she asked, “Yinyin, what exactly happened yesterday? You went out with numerous attendants—how could such a mishap occur?”
Shen Lingzhen had just been showing a tearful, aggrieved expression, but upon hearing this, her gaze flickered repeatedly: “I was momentarily playful and wandered too far…”
“Yinyin!”
Shen Lingzhen’s shoulders trembled at the reprimand, and only then did she honestly recount the entire encounter with Xue Jie.
Zhao Meilan sighed quietly: “And how did you escape afterward?”
At this mention, Shen Lingzhen suddenly raised her head: “Mother, where is my savior?”
“What savior?”
“That man who was with me in the mountain cave, wearing armor and a helmet.”
At that time, the carriage that abducted her had raced at breakneck speed. With her mouth stuffed with cotton cloth, her cries to heaven and earth went unanswered, and she had no idea where in the four corners of the world she had been taken. Fortunately, a kind-hearted passerby drew his blade to help, risking his life to battle fiercely with the bandits, thus allowing her to escape.
But Zhao Meilan said: “The Imperial Guards only found you alone in the mountain cave.”
“His injuries were so severe—where could he have gone?” Shen Lingzhen murmured, earnestly grasping her mother’s hand. “Mother, we must quickly send people to search for him.”
“Since he is a benefactor, naturally we must search.” Zhao Meilan patted the back of her hand soothingly, then pointed to the wooden rack and asked, “Is this cloak that person’s?”
Shen Lingzhen nodded.
After that man rescued her and brought her to shelter in the mountain cave, seeing that her dress and skirt had been torn in several places by thorns, he removed his cloak to cover her.
“Do you recognize this benefactor?”
“The helmet on his head covered him completely—I couldn’t see his face. From his voice, he didn’t sound like anyone I know.”
Zhao Meilan drew from her sleeve a sky-blue silk handkerchief folded into a neat square and spread it out for her to see: “Then what about this handwriting? This handkerchief was found inside that cloak.”
Shen Lingzhen leaned forward to look and saw that in the lower left corner, the character “Yu” was embroidered in gold thread. Above it were two lines of plum blossom small regular script in ink that had already aged:
“At Yusai and Yangguan, beacon smoke rises, barbarian riders enter Hexi. Spring is not seen, fragrant grasses grow scattered and sparse.
The mounted general draws his sword and departs, vowing not to return until Loulan is broken. What day will dawn, when my heart is ardent and true.”
“This is daughter’s calligraphy style…” Shen Lingzhen read it through silently, then said in surprise, “But it absolutely was not written by daughter!”
Zhao Meilan of course knew this was not written by Shen Lingzhen.
The “Yusai” and “Yangguan” mentioned in the first stanza were two important strategic passes in the Hexi region in former times. But ten years ago, Hexi had ceased to be territory of Great Qi, and the passes there had also been abandoned. Where would “beacon smoke” come from now?
Looking at the second stanza, it was not difficult to guess this was written by a young lady who secretly admired a general. But Shen Lingzhen spent all her days within deep courtyards and inner chambers—where could she have become acquainted with any general?
No matter how one reasoned it out, this poem should not be her daughter’s work. Zhao Meilan asked this additional question only to confirm the calligraphy style.
Though Shen Lingzhen was young, she had already achieved some renown in the arts of calligraphy and painting. Her plum blossom small regular script was executed with precision, with a charm all its own. Even she herself could not deny that this handwriting was indeed imitated with remarkable skill.
Shen Lingzhen was utterly puzzled. She unfolded the handkerchief, wanting to look for other clues, turned it over, and saw two more lines of characters.
This set was in running script, handsome and upright, with strong centered brushstrokes and beautiful slanted ones, deeply penetrating and yet measured in tension and release. Clearly this was not her handwriting, and the ink was considerably fresher than the previous two lines:
“At the headwaters of Hexi, spring grass turns green. Years have passed, and now it grows luxuriantly.
I ask how much should be left in history’s record? Why must one preserve a name after death? Better to remain forever drunk in an illusory dream, treating death’s parting as separation in life. Waking, I remain ardent; dreaming, I remain ardent.”
Shen Lingzhen’s heart jolted suddenly. In an instant, she felt her eyes swelling and stinging, as if she would inexplicably shed tears. But this impulse vanished in a flash, disappearing without a trace after just a moment.
She came back to herself and read the poem carefully once more. She thought this might be the general’s response, left on the handkerchief many years later upon returning from a distant campaign, after he and his beloved had been separated by death forever, with no chance to communicate their hearts face to face.
Love that dared not be spoken, a young lady who died early, and a general who devoted his whole heart to serving his country, achieving fame and success but bearing regret for life—this bitter romantic tale made others sigh with sympathy. That is, if the poem had not mentioned words like “zhenzhen” and “yinyin.”
Shen Lingzhen shook her head: “Mother, no matter how unwilling I am to marry, I would never have such a clandestine affair with someone else.”
Besides, wasn’t she alive and well?
“Mother knows, but I cannot understand the purpose of the person who imitated your calligraphy. If they meant to frame you for illicit relations with someone, that also makes no sense.”
“Mother, what do you mean by that?”
“Do you know what that Huo family’s second son is called?”
“Daughter has not inquired.”
“His given name is ‘Liuxing,’ and his courtesy name is ‘Yu.'”
Shen Lingzhen looked down at the handkerchief again. The golden gleaming character “Yu,” and the words “Liuxing” paired with “Yinyin” in the poem, instantly caught her eye.
She said in a daze: “You mean these two poems refer to… me and Second Master Huo?”
Since he was a proper betrothed, the notion of “illicit relations” made no sense.
However, this interpretation made the poem even more inexplicable.
Although Huo Liuxing had once wielded sword and spear in his youth, fighting on battlefields, before he could even aspire to the title of general, at the age of seventeen during a northern campaign, he was captured by the Xiqiang people beyond the passes. After narrowly escaping with his life, his two legs were ruined, and for the rest of his days he would have to rely on a wheelchair to get about.
How could someone crippled for a full ten years still serve as any general or command any army?
But if it referred to ten years ago, Shen Lingzhen had been only a few years old then—what would she have known of romantic feelings between men and women?
Going to great lengths to create a handkerchief, yet telling such a nonsensical story—forget the inexperienced Shen Lingzhen, even someone as shrewd and experienced as the Grand Princess could not fathom the mystery within.
All of this could probably only be solved by finding the owner of the handkerchief.
Zhao Meilan turned to ask about the person’s appearance and distinctive features of dress.
Shen Lingzhen recalled: “He was quite tall in stature, more than a head taller than me. As for distinguishing features… he treated his wounds in the cave, and I saw he had an alarming old scar below his collarbone. Also, his sword was rather peculiar—such a fierce and evil weapon, yet it was carved with lotus patterns and inlaid with prayer beads.”
Because Shen Lingzhen had been blessed by heaven with an innate exceptional memory—whatever passed before her eyes and ears, she could easily remember—Zhao Meilan ordered servants to bring brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, and had her draw both the shape of that person’s scar and the style of his clothing and sword.
When the drawing was complete, Zhao Meilan was shocked once again.
The helmet in Shen Lingzhen’s drawing was inlaid with cloud-dragon patterns, embedded with golden phoenix wings, and topped with a tiger with spread wings identical to the one on that black cloak.
The honor of having one’s family crest carved upon a helmet was absolutely not something ordinary soldiers could enjoy, and even most generals could not. Such status was already comparable to a Grand General.
But Grand General was the pinnacle of military positions, ranked above the Three Excellencies. Since the founding of Great Qi, this position had remained vacant. If such a supremely powerful general truly existed, how could Zhao Meilan, as Grand Princess, not know?
This matter was becoming increasingly bizarre.
Zhao Meilan thought for a moment and carefully gathered up the handkerchief and drawing: “Leave the matter of finding this person to Mother. You must rest and recuperate well.”