The night wind howled along Huanhua Creek, where hardly anyone ventured. As fine snow particles fell with a rustling sound, blown by the cold wind, Sheng Fengze took a deep breath, his remaining tipsiness dissipating. His guards waited for him in the grove ahead, but he was in no hurry to join them, stopping instead by the river.
“A thousand-gold son shouldn’t sit beneath a leaning roof”—that was what the Central Plains people said. In Nanzhao, it was common for court officials to work alongside old farmers in the fields during harvest season. When he went to the Ji family, relying on his martial arts skills, he hadn’t even brought a guard. Now that his identity was discovered, he could only use the excuse of admiring the Great Tang’s prosperity during this peaceful period between Nanzhao and Tang. Who knew if Tang opportunists might use this to extort more from Nanzhao?
The northern mountains blocked the cold winds from Chang’an. Past the Tai Ridge, Shu remained evergreen through all seasons. A wild mulberry tree stood beside him. In Shu’s farmlands, mulberry trees were everywhere. Even in the dead of winter, this old mulberry hadn’t completely withered and dropped its leaves—they persisted on the branches, trembling in the wind.
This place was closest to Nanzhao, using its terrain to maintain peace in its corner, avoiding the chaos of dynastic changes and recovering its strength. Shu’s ease and wealth made the Nanzhao people envious.
Here, the sky was forever covered in thick clouds, lacking Nanzhao’s sunlight and blue skies. Yet here they had brocade more precious than gold. He plucked an old mulberry leaf—the trees here were different from Nanzhao’s. Nanzhao’s silkworms ate oak leaves, producing harder, coarser silk. They couldn’t weave Shu brocade comparable to gold.
Ah, Nanzhao. Since his ancestors had allied with the Great Tang to unite the Six Zhao states, Nanzhao had become Tang’s vassal. In the eyes of Tibet and Tang, Nanzhao was just a vegetable garden—good for providing cannon fodder during wars and annual tributes. To be trampled and harvested at will. Yet Nanzhao had never stopped yearning to become a strong nation.
For decades, Shu’s mulberry trees had been transplanted to Nanzhao. They had raised silkworms and woven silk. But Nanzhao was vast with few people, home to many uncivilized tribes. Few craftsmen could dye silk and cloth, and even fewer could weave brocade fine enough for military payments.
For three years, he had led his subordinates to Shu. Using jade and gold from southern mountains, ivory, tiger pelts, and bear gallbladders from the forests to buy and exchange various dyeing and weaving secrets. Constantly infiltrating Nanzhao people as apprentices to steal the crafts. Was his method wrong? Sheng Fengze took out a gold-threaded bamboo tube from his robe, his fingers applying pressure until it cracked.
He crumpled the thin paper in his hand and threw it violently into the river. The white paper, soaked by the river water, disappeared beneath the surface in a few breaths. Just like his three years of effort, turning to bubbles in an instant.
He waited for his emotions to calm before striding into the grove.
A lookout spotted him and whistled like a bird. The guards emerged silently from their hiding places, bowing to him.
Advisor Jin led his horse forward, offering the reins with hesitation.
Sheng Fengze mounted: “Speak if you have something to say.”
Advisor Jin said: “Master, don’t you plan to take the three members of the Ji family back with us?”
Sheng Fengze’s heart chilled as he gazed at the distant household lights, saying coolly: “Is this Advisor Jin’s suggestion, or the King’s wishes?”
Sweat suddenly broke out on Advisor Jin’s back. He fell to his knees, his voice trembling slightly but still speaking the truth: “Yes. The King has ordered…”
The sound of drawing swords filled the grove. Advisor Jin knocked his head against the ground, offering his neck without resistance.
Sheng Fengze raised his hand, and his guards, though glaring at Advisor Jin, sheathed their swords.
My good brother has run out of patience, hence the urgent pigeon message calling me back to Taihe City. Sheng Fengze closed his eyes briefly, and when he reopened them, they were as dark as the impenetrable night: “You are no longer my man. Take care of yourself.”
He spurred his horse forward, his guards following closely. The guard who had been protecting Advisor Jin spat at him viciously before riding away, leaving him alone.
The cold wind blew, leaving only the sound of wind in the grove. After a long while, Advisor Jin’s broken sobs could be heard: “…not just the Ji family refusing to give up their secrets… we’ve spent so much time and money for so little… can’t wait any longer…”
——…——
The three members of the Ji family arrived at the prefectural office again, waiting for the prefect to begin court.
Perhaps because they no longer needed to surrender their secret formula, Madam Ji’s anxiety had largely lifted, and her spirits were better. She insisted on attending court to see for herself the letter produced by the Baron of Yichuan’s estate.
Amid the yamen runners’ calls, the prefect ascended to his seat. The three Ji family members knelt before the court, while only a steward represented the baron’s estate. The maid was nowhere to be seen.
The prefect looked as if he hadn’t slept well, his expression weary. He scanned those kneeling below, his gaze stopping on Madam Ji. Having come from Chang’an and knowing the Xu family there, he deliberately studied her more closely: “Is the woman below the court Madam Ji née Xu?”
Madam Ji raised her head: “Yes, Your Honor, I am.”
As she looked up, the prefect was startled again, a hazy memory surfacing. The noble ladies of Tang hunted at Leyou Plain—the three Xu beauties were relatives of the Duke of Ying, Li Ji. Though not expert martial artists, they were excellent horsewomen. He had been just a student going to the capital for examinations then. With his classmates, he had watched a group of noble ladies gallop past. He vaguely heard someone point out: “The three Xu beauties! The youngest is betrothed to the Military Commissioner of Fengyang. Second Miss Xu is the most beautiful, I hear the Baron of Yichuan has already proposed…” He had unconsciously glimpsed her, remembering that fleeting beautiful face. His only thought then was that after achieving success in the imperial examinations, he too might have the chance to marry such a noble lady.
The memory overlapped with the person before him, making him blurt out: “Second Miss Xu?”
Madam Ji gaped in surprise. For so long, no one had called her that. A surge of bitterness welled up in her eyes, and she lowered her head: “This humble woman married into the Ji family of Huanhua Dye House in Sandaoyan, and is now Madam Ji née Xu.”
The prefect immediately came to his senses. Time had passed—the former noble lady of Chang’an was now a merchant’s wife. He couldn’t help but feel extra sympathy.
“Did you write this letter? I had it examined—the handwriting is identical.” The prefect knew several expert forgers among the civil service scribes. Countless craftsmen in the civilian world had such skills, so he hadn’t paid it much mind.
Madam Ji took the letter and, without even reading its contents, looked at the paper and said: “Your Honor, I never wrote this letter.”
The baron’s steward shouted angrily: “You wrote it—would my lord falsely accuse a merchant’s wife?”
Third Miss Xu had married the Baron of Yichuan. The Xu family had switched daughters—did the baron harbor resentment for this? Why hadn’t Second Miss Xu married the baron, instead of wedding a small dye house owner? The prefect suddenly became energized, eagerly watching how Madam Ji would explain.
“Your Honor, Yi Prefecture is close to Jiajiang, where bamboo paper is of good quality and reasonably priced. Thus, respectable families mostly use Jiajiang bamboo paper. But this letter is written on Hui-Xuan paper. The Ji family runs only a small dye house—we wouldn’t forsake Jiajiang bamboo paper for imported Hui-Xuan. Please investigate, Your Honor.” After this long explanation, Madam Ji was somewhat short of breath.
The prefect’s sympathy grew stronger, and he said gently: “I understand. You may rest.”
Ji Yingying secretly glanced at the prefect, surprised by his favorable attitude. Seeing how he treated her mother, the Yang family had some influence. Was the prefect not afraid of Deputy Commander Niu? Or had Fifth Lady Niu not helped the Zhao family? How would Zhao Xiuyuan react if he knew the prefect treated the Ji family this way?