Zhu Yu – Side Story: Wei Yan’s Chapter

In early spring, the air was still cold, and ice and snow just melting away.

In the inky darkness of night, a faint light still flickered in the study of the Wei residence. The steward knocked on the door and reported from outside, “Lord Minister, the young master is having nightmares again, crying inconsolably…”

Inside the study, an air of desolation prevailed. A bronze crane candle holder stood beside the huanghuali wood desk, its copper plate atop the crane’s head covered in mottled wax tears. The half-melted candle cast a dim yellow glow. Wei Yan sat behind the desk, his lean jawline appearing harsh even in the warm candlelight.

He seemed to be reading but looked up from his book at the sound. Turning slightly, he gazed at the small stub of a candle in the bronze crane holder, lost in thought for a moment before coldly asking, “What are the servants doing? Can’t they even comfort a child?”

The steward hesitated before replying, “The young master cried for Miss, then remembered she had gone with her husband. Then he cried for his uncle… That’s why this old servant dared to come and find you, Lord Minister.”

At the word “uncle,” a flash of anguish crossed Wei Yan’s face. He closed his eyes to compose himself for a long moment before standing to open the study door, his face now devoid of emotion. “I’ll go see him.”

The Great Protector General Xie Linshan and the Crown Prince of Chengde had died in battle at Jinzhou. Unable to bear the fact of her husband’s death, Madam Xie had recently chosen to “join him in death,” entrusting her four-year-old son to her brother, Wei Yan.

The young master of the Xie family had been brought to the Wei residence and was staying in the Linxuan Pavilion.

As soon as Wei Yan stepped into the courtyard, he heard the child’s cries from within: “Uncle… I want Uncle…”

The voice was intermittent and hoarse, like a wounded young beast.

Hearing these cries, the steward’s eyes flashed with sorrow and pity.

Wei Yan’s face remained cold, his profile bathed in the chill moonlight as if covered in frost.

He pushed open the door. Inside, the small child saw him and stopped crying, reaching out to him dependently: “Uncle…”

The nursemaids comforting him all bowed to Wei Yan: “Lord Minister.”

They kept their heads lowered, appearing anxious and rushed, as if fearing Wei Yan would blame them for failing to care for the young master properly.

Wei Yan coldly looked at his nephew, whose eyes were swollen from crying, and immediately issued a stern rebuke: “A proper man, what are you crying for?”

Little Xie Zheng seemed startled by his harsh words. He withdrew his outstretched hands and clutched his quilt uncertainly. His large black eyes, brimming with tears, stared at the frost-faced young man before him. His lips were pressed tightly together, not daring to cry out, but large teardrops still fell uncontrollably, leaving wet marks on the quilt.

Fearing Wei Yan’s scolding, he quickly lowered his head and wiped his eyes with his small, lotus-root-like arms.

Father was dead, Mother had abandoned him, and now his formerly kind uncle no longer liked him…

One of the nursemaids looking after Little Xie Zheng felt pity and softly said, “The young master had a nightmare…”

Wei Yan shot her a cold glance, and she immediately fell silent, lowering her head and not daring to speak further.

He issued a frigid command: “Replace all the servants in Linxuan Pavilion with male attendants. This child, raised by women’s hands, will never amount to anything great.”

The nursemaids in the room immediately knelt and begged for mercy. Little Xie Zheng, realizing what was happening, forgot his fear and clutched Wei Yan’s sleeve, sobbing: “Uncle… don’t send the nursemaids away. Zheng won’t cry anymore…”

Wei Yan looked down at his nephew, his gaze cold as ice: “You cry for half the night over a mere nightmare. How will you avenge your father, who was disemboweled and hung on the city walls by the Beixi? The Xie family doesn’t produce cowards, nor does the Wei family!”

That piercing gaze stabbed at the young child: “If you remain this weak all your life, relying on your father’s military achievements, the court might as well keep you like a pig or a dog. You’ll live a life free from worry.”

With that, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

The steward frowned at these words. He looked at Wei Yan’s retreating, then at the stunned child sitting on the bed, seemingly dumbfounded by Wei Yan’s harsh words. He sighed softly and said to Little Xie Zheng, “Young Master, please don’t take it to heart. The Lord Minister… he’s just upset because Miss has recently passed. He hopes you’ll grow up quickly, march north to reclaim Jinzhou and avenge General Xie.”

The four-year-old child lowered his head, his thin shoulders shaking with sobs. He looked like a bow made of tender branches, unable to bear the sudden weight placed upon it.

“Uncle… hates me…” His voice was childish yet hoarse as if weeping blood: “If I hadn’t gone out to eat osmanthus cakes if I hadn’t left Mother… Mother wouldn’t have been alone in her room to take her own life…”

He choked with sobs: “I didn’t take care of Mother… Uncle hates me…”

The steward’s expression grew more complex. He tried to comfort the child: “Miss chose her path. It’s not your fault, Young Master. The Lord Minister… doesn’t blame you either.”

Little Xie Zheng just shook his head, turning away to curl up on the bed, his small figure looking heartbreakingly fragile.

The steward sighed, tucked in the blanket around him, and left the room with heavy steps.

At the end of the covered walkway, a solitary figure stood with hands clasped behind his back, cutting a lonely silhouette in the cold wind.

The steward approached and said, “The young master is still very young. Your harshness only serves to hurt him. He’s been blaming himself for not watching over Miss that day, thinking… you hate him for it…”

Wei Yan watched the bamboo shadows swaying in the night breeze and coldly replied, “Then let him think so.”

The steward’s expression turned bitter: “Why do you torment yourself like this?”

The lantern under the walkway swayed in the cold wind, casting a dim, flickering yellow light. Wei Yan’s dark robes billowed like sails, accentuating his tall, lean figure. He spoke slowly: “The imperial court is a murky pond, full of pitfalls and hidden currents. If he were to live as a mere nobleman, I could indulge him. But he must go to the battlefield and enter the court. If I don’t harden him, I’d be sending him to be slaughtered by others.”

“Wei Quan, if he’s not ruthless, he’ll never sit in my position.”

“Even if I were to hand it to him, would others be so accommodating?”

The steward understood his master’s good intentions and fell silent. After a long while, he said dejectedly, “Will you let the young master resent you like this?”

Wei Yan gave a faint smile: “It’s better if he hates and resents me.”

The steward looked at Wei Yan, startled.

He heard him say very softly: “One day, he will discover those matters.”

Those grave crimes pinned on him by the late emperor, which he could never erase no matter how hard he tried for the rest of his life.

The steward thought of Wei Wan’s death, and his eyes darkened further.

Miss had died resenting the Lord Minister, believing him to be the mastermind behind General Xie and the Crown Prince’s deaths…

At the fourth watch of the night, a strong wind arose, causing the improperly closed window to bang against its frame. The child on the bed seemed to have fallen into another nightmare, unconsciously clutching at his quilt and mumbling, calling for “Father” and “Mother.”

The man who had been sitting in the corner armchair for who knows how long stood up walked to the window and closed it. Then, by the faint light of an oil lamp outside the canopy bed, he silently watched the child on the bed, whose forehead was covered in cold sweat.

He took a handkerchief, seemingly intending to wipe the sweat from the child’s brow, but the boy let out a short, sharp cry and suddenly sat up, gasping for air.

Wei Yan put the hand holding the handkerchief behind his back and stood by the bed, still looking at his nephew, who was drenched in a cold sweat and seemed as if he had just been pulled from the water, with an icy expression.

The small child looked at him and opened his mouth as if to call out to him, but seeing his expression fell silent again.

The look in his eyes towards Wei Yan now held a confused wariness and awe, no longer the dependence of before.

Like a young beast that had been driven away.

Wei Yan spoke in a hard voice: “I’ve found a martial arts master for you. Tomorrow, you’ll start training at the Jingwu Academy.”

As he stepped out of the room, a personal guard waiting outside handed him a cloak to put on and asked in a low voice, “Lord Minister, you’ve been watching over the young master for half the night without rest. Would you like to return to your chambers for a while?”

Wei Yan looked at the sky and said, “Prepare my court robes. It’s time to go to the palace.”

As he reached the ornamental gate, Wei Sheng, the leader of his elite guards, hurriedly reported, “Lord Minister, we caught several more intruders trying to break into the mansion last night. They’re all from the Xie family’s old retainers. Should we lock them in the dungeon too?”

A flash of severity crossed Wei Yan’s eyes. “Weren’t all of the Xie family’s retainers sent back to Huizhou by Wan’er?”

Wei Sheng bowed and said, “They’re from the Xie family’s collateral branches. They somehow got wind of something and, after being captured, cursed you loudly. They even said… you shouldn’t expect the young master to recognize a thief as his father…”

Wei Yan’s hand, which was adjusting his cloak, paused briefly. His expression grew colder: “Interrogate them to find out who leaked the information. Once you get the answer, there’s no need to keep them alive.”

Wei Sheng was slightly taken aback, not understanding why his master, who had always ordered these people to be imprisoned before, suddenly wanted to silence them permanently.

Thinking about how these people were trying to get close to the young master, and how Miss had learned the truth from them, coupled with the incident where Jia family spies had pushed the young master into the lotus pond to create the illusion that the Lord Minister wanted to kill him, which had forced Miss to leave a suicide note and hang herself to protect the young master and the uninvolved old retainers of the Xie family, Wei Sheng understood his master’s hatred for a moment.

His master hated the Sui and Jia families who were instigating the Xie family’s old retainers behind the scenes, and he also hated those old retainers who had used the “truth” to pressure Miss.

Miss was gone, and his master couldn’t allow them to approach the young master again.

The direct retainers of the Xie family had been sent back to the old mansion in Huizhou by Miss before her suicide. This move was to protect the remaining power of the Xie family and also to pave the way for the young master’s future.

These collateral branches of the Xie family coming now had undoubtedly hit a sore spot for his master.

After Wei Sheng received his orders and left, Wei Yan strode towards the mansion gate. The steward came to see him off. As Wei Yan was about to get into his official sedan chair, he suddenly instructed, “Have the child from Muxui Garden move to Linxuan Pavilion.”

The steward nodded in agreement, understanding Wei Yan’s intention, and said with a smile, “Young Master Xuan is usually quite lively. The young master has just lost both parents, having a playmate around should cheer him up and perhaps prevent his nightly nightmares.”

Wei Yan said nothing, lowering the sedan curtain. The sedan bearers, former elite guards, lifted the chair and began walking steadily towards the still gray streets.

More than a dozen mansion guards with long swords at their waists followed on both sides of the sedan. Each had a steady breath and stable stance, all excellent fighters selected from among the elite guards.

With the young emperor on the throne, Wei Yan wielded imperial authority to command the feudal lords. The war south of Jinzhou was intense. Although the Sui family was leading troops to resist the Beixi’s southward advance, they were also using this opportunity to make exorbitant demands for money and provisions from the court. In the capital, the Jia family, like a centipede that refuses to die even when killed, was always ready to strike back at Wei Yan and seize power from his hands.

Since Wei Yan had become Chancellor and started acting as regent, he had already survived more than ten assassination attempts.

Everyone was looking for his mistakes, searching for his weaknesses. If he were to take one wrong step, both the Wei and Xie families would face irreversible disaster.

As the sedan reached Tongque Street, cold arrows shot towards it along with a gust of wind.

Dozens of black-clad figures leaped down from the buildings on both sides, their blades glinting coldly in the light of the sedan’s lanterns.

The mansion guards surrounding the sedan drew their swords, creating an impenetrable net of blades that blocked all the poison-tipped arrows. They then engaged in fierce combat with the black-clad assassins who had jumped down from the buildings.

The spilled blood dyed red the frost-covered bluestone pavement of Tongque Street.

One black-clad assassin, taking advantage of the moment when the elite guards around the sedan were all engaged, thrust his blade toward the sedan. The powerful blade wind tore through the brocade curtain of the sedan, but the blade itself could not advance another inch.

Blue veins bulged on the assassin’s temples from the exertion, but the person inside the sedan, who had caught the blade with one hand, merely twisted his wrist. This movement sent the black-clad assassin spinning in the air. The blade, unable to withstand the force, shattered with a “clang.” As the assassin landed, the broken half of the blade thrown from within the sedan ended his life.

The elite guards outside the sedan had also finished off the last of the black-clad assassins, their blood splattering half of the sedan’s curtain.

Wei Yan lifted the curtain and stepped out, his embroidered boots stepping into a pool of sticky, dark red blood. The early sun was rising from the east, its red glow, like the blood on the ground, struggling to break through the gray clouds, coating the distant palace towers and halls with a layer of golden light.

Wei Yan faced that brilliant light, his handsome face showing only cold indifference.

He stepped forward, treading on the blood-colored dawn, moving step by step towards the majestic imperial palace.

This journey would last eighteen years.

The great revenge of yesteryear, he had exacted it one by one.

Pacifying the realm, and eliminating traitors, he had also forged the sharpest blade in the world, one that even he could not break. There was no one left in this world who could shake that blade.

Now, as he went to meet old acquaintances, he had no regrets.

Whether his destination was the Jade Terrace or Hell, he was at peace.

The merits and faults, glory and disgrace of this life, let posterity judge, condemn, curse, or sigh over them. When dust returns to earth and dry bones have no words, what did it matter to him?