The Qingping Official of Nanzhao, equivalent to a Prime Minister of the Great Tang, had a residence that was far from extravagant. One could seemingly see the backyard walls at a glance. The buildings were all made of white stone. The main hall’s furnishings were simple, with a grand chair in the center and long wooden chairs arranged on both sides.
The chair covers were made of brocade. When Ji Yingying stood in the hall with nothing to do, she glanced at them and realized they weren’t Shu brocade from Yizhou. She figured it must be brocade woven by the Nanzhao people themselves. The colors weren’t as vibrant, appearing somewhat thin, more like silk.
Even such brocade was considered precious in the Qingping Official’s residence.
“It can’t compare to Shu brocade. I hope Madam Yang won’t laugh at it.”
A mellow voice came from behind. Ji Yingying turned to look.
A middle-aged scholar walked in from the doorway. His skin was dark, with a neat long beard below his chin. He wore a narrow-sleeved short coat in mainly cyan-black with loose lantern-like trousers, his head wrapped in black cloth forming a pointed corner. A short silver knife hung at his waist, giving him a rather martial appearance. Yet his eyes were gentle.
In Ji Yingying’s imagination, a powerful official should have been born with a face of cunning craftiness, recognizable as villainous without needing it written on his forehead.
She hadn’t expected Du, the Qingping Official, to be so scholarly, and his first words to be so polite that she was momentarily stunned.
“Please sit,” Du Yan made a welcoming gesture, passing by her to take the main seat.
Ji Yingying had prepared for the worst, contemplating how to die comfortably. Since he hadn’t immediately called for violence, she had no intention of shouting slogans seeking death, and accordingly sat down in the lower seat.
A maid brought tea. Du Yan lifted his teacup and said, “Nanzhao’s tea isn’t as refined as the Great Tang’s, merely something to quench thirst. I hope Madam Yang won’t mind.”
He wasn’t redirecting anger at her? Such politeness made Ji Yingying uneasy. She silently took a sip. The flavor was mellow with a sweet aftertaste, extremely good.
“Nanzhao has some good things that the Great Tang doesn’t have. Given time, Madam Yang will understand.” Du Yan hadn’t missed Ji Yingying’s relaxing expression after drinking the tea. He was also somewhat surprised. He believed she knew why she had been brought here alone. At just sixteen or seventeen, she showed such composure, worthy of his special attention.
“Your husband beheaded my son. Nanzhao’s Northern Army was left leaderless, retreating to the Tongguan Valley where they were surrounded and attacked by the Tang’s Dongchuan army. Almost the entire force was annihilated.” Du Yan spoke calmly as if it wasn’t his son who had been beheaded.
Perhaps some people appear calmer the more furious they are inside. She would still die in the end, just not too easily. Ji Yingying put down her tea cup and looked up: “How does the Qingping Official intend to deal with me?”
Du Yan didn’t answer directly, continuing to speak about Yang Jingyuan: “The Tang Emperor has bestowed upon your husband the rank of Fifth Grade Mobile Corps General. I hear he’s only nineteen?”
“Yes. A fifth-grade general at nineteen, promoted through military merit. I share in his glory,” Ji Yingying did not attempt to hide her feelings, showing a proud smile.
“Ajing was twenty this year. I married at seventeen and had him a year later. He was my only son.”
Du Yan’s voice was like a slow-flowing stream. Ji Yingying listened with trepidation. Yang Jingyuan had beheaded his only son. This grudge indeed ran deep. She didn’t respond, listening as the Nanzhao Qingping Official continued.
“My wife passed away from illness five years ago. I haven’t taken another principal wife since. Busy with state affairs, I only have a few concubines in the residence. Perhaps because I’ve neglected them, there have been no more children.”
Ji Yingying glanced at him, thinking that when Nanzhao invaded the Xichuan Circuit, did the Tang army have to ask each enemy soldier if they were an only child? If so, would they be spared? In battle, both sides suffer casualties. Who told you not to protect your only seedling and instead send him to the battlefield?
“…Madam Yang, should I seek revenge on you?”
Du Yan’s gaze suddenly emitted a sharp light.
“No,” Ji Yingying wasn’t foolish, survival instinct making her reflexively contradict his words, “In the war between nations, there’s no place for personal grudges. Any hatred is between countries. Soldiers follow military orders, what has that to do with their families?”
“Are you saying my son’s death has nothing to do with you? Children pay for their father’s debts, husband and wife are one. Yang Jingyuan killed my son, you are my enemy!”
Du Yan’s fury didn’t show through his words, discussing it with Ji Yingying as calmly as if exploring a theoretical problem. Ji Yingying smiled, “He died on the battlefield. If you want revenge, Lord Qingping Official can seek it against my husband on the battlefield. Of course, I’ve been captured and brought to Nanzhao, my life and death are in your hands. Why bother listening to my defense?”
“Of course, I must listen. I hope Madam Yang understands, it’s not that I’m making things difficult for you. But this revenge must be taken.”
Hearing this, Ji Yingying stood up: “Very well, may I choose a more comfortable way to die?”
She knew Yang Jingyuan would want her to find ways to survive no matter what. He would surely come to rescue her. But time waits for no one. She wouldn’t live to see that day. Like meat on a chopping block, there was no possibility of swimming back to the river. It just depended on whether she would be chopped, sliced, or filleted. Better to be chopped, one stroke separating the head from the body, perhaps less painful. She’d heard biting one’s tongue could achieve suicide, but how much force would it take to bite through one’s tongue? Or perhaps charging headfirst into a stone wall? There were only her and Du Yan in the hall, he probably couldn’t stop her in time. She had almost scared herself silly—the small knife Yang Jingyuan had given her was still hidden in her boot. Cutting herself would be simpler.
As Ji Yingying’s thoughts were in chaos, Du Yan also stood up and unfastened the short silver knife from his waist.
Well, being stabbed to death by him would be simpler and more convenient than stabbing herself. Ji Yingying closed her eyes.
What a pity, even with her good eyesight, she hadn’t been able to see Yang Jingyuan’s face clearly that day. In her memory, he had upturned eyebrows, and when he smiled, he shone like sunlight…
Suddenly her hand was grasped, and Ji Yingying opened her eyes in shock. Du Yan placed the silver short knife in her hand: “Marry me!”
Ji Yingying screamed at these three words, throwing the silver knife away as if it were burning coal. She hastily backed away, falling into a chair.
She had thought of so many ways to die but hadn’t expected to nearly be frightened to death.
“Marry me, bear me a son… I want Yang Jingyuan to live in hell for the rest of his life!” Du Yan lowered his body, hands gripping the armrests, his seemingly calm face slightly twisted.
“Slap!” Ji Yingying’s palm struck his face. She knew someone who could become Nanzhao’s powerful minister wouldn’t be simple. Behind Du Yan’s calm words lay a fury that could burn everything in the world. “Dream on!”
She would rather bite through her tongue, rather die crashing into a stone wall, than let him have his way.
Du Yan grabbed her from the chair, shouldered her with one powerful movement, and lifted her.
Ji Yingying was so frightened her mind went blank, taking several breaths before reacting. Like a fish thrown onto shore, no matter how she twisted and turned, she couldn’t break free. Her scratching and hitting at Du Yan’s back only exhausted her strength. In a dizzy whirl, she was thrown onto the bed.
She finally pulled out the small knife from her boot, stabbing it forcefully toward her abdomen.