The matter of Wei Pingzin being punished to kneel in the ancestral hall reached Madam Wei’s ears that very night.

Not long after Wei Qishan returned to his study, Madam Wei brought people and made a scene.

The manor physician had just finished taking Wei Qishan’s pulse. Liao Jiang stood beside Wei Qishan. Hearing what seemed like a commotion outside, he went to the door to inquire. When he returned, his expression was somewhat strange as he told Wei Qishan: “It’s Madam who has come.”

Wei Qishan covered his mouth with a handkerchief and coughed several times. When he removed the handkerchief, his five fingers folded it to conceal the bloodstains on it. He said: “It’s getting late. You should return home early as well.”

Wei Xian, standing nearby, nodded slightly to Liao Jiang, indicating he would take good care of Wei Qishan.

Liao Jiang also knew he had witnessed too many of the marquis manor’s scandals today. With Madam Wei making a scene now, things would likely become unseemly soon. Though he was Wei Qishan’s trusted confidant, he was ultimately an outside minister. He immediately cupped his fists toward Wei Qishan: “Then this general shall take his leave first. Tomorrow I’ll deliver the roster of generals for the southern campaign.”

Wei Qishan reclined halfway on the sitting couch, his authoritative bearing suppressing his illness. He nodded slightly.

As Liao Jiang opened the door to leave, he encountered Madam Wei leading a group of servants, still pushing and forcing their way past the guards stationed at the bottom of the steps.

Seeing someone emerge from inside—a military general no less—Madam Wei still minded appearances somewhat. She straightened her clothing and hair, then stood at the bottom of the steps with a rigid face, surrounded by matrons and maidservants.

Liao Jiang found it inappropriate to say more. Cupping his fists and calling out “Madam,” he departed first.

Wei Xian appeared at the study doorway right after, looking at Madam Wei and bowing slightly: “Madam, please enter.”

Only then did the guards who had been blocking Madam Wei’s group make way.

When Madam Wei led people inside, the guards only allowed her alone to enter. The numerous maidservants and servants following behind were all stopped by the guards’ crossed halberds.

Madam Wei glared furiously. Wei Xian only lowered his head respectfully: “Madam should know the study is an important place. The Marquis has never allowed idle persons to enter.”

Madam Wei looked at the imposing tower beyond those dozen stone steps—majestic as a giant beast crouching in the night curtain. Her eyes faintly reddened.

She had been married for over twenty years to this renowned master in the world’s eyes, yet the number of times she had set foot in his study remained only the second time to this day.

From age sixteen when she married to become a Wei family wife, she had always looked up to him.

Madam Wei forcibly suppressed the sourness in her eyes, clutching her shawl with a rigid face as she climbed the stone steps one by one.

A floor dragon burned in the study. Due to its master’s years of taking medicine, the clear, bitter medicinal scent in the room was also steamed out by the heat.

These past years, Wei Qishan had always slept alone in his study. Only during festivals would he go to her courtyard to dine with the children.

Madam Wei looked at the person draped in an outer robe handling official documents behind the desk. She felt his figure seemed unchanged from before. Though he had grown a beard and his prominent cheekbones showed thinness from this recent injury and illness, the stern coldness on his face remained no different from his youth.

When she married him, he was already past thirty with a twelve-year-old eldest son.

Madam Wei unconsciously smoothed a strand of hair by her ear. When looking in mirrors, she often spotted silver threads at her temples. Plucking one today, more would still appear in a few days…

She knew she had aged and often feared whether it was because her beauty had faded, that she no longer resembled his first wife, that he rarely even crossed the threshold of her courtyard anymore.

Back then, though her family background was humble, with her beautiful appearance, her family never lacked matchmakers proposing marriage.

Only later, because her looks attracted trouble—catching the eye of that shameless old Salt Transport Commissioner who wanted to take her as a concubine—did her family urgently send her to her maternal grandparents’ home to avoid disaster.

It was then she met him. After days of heavy rain, rolling stones blocked the mountain road, and floods cut off the return path. At the moment between life and death, a cavalry patrol inspecting the river channels saved her.

She still remembered him wearing a conical hat, sitting high on horseback, the look in his eyes when he glanced toward her after hearing her family servants’ cries.

So pained, yet so incredulous.

The cavalry brought ropes across. A strong, sturdy matron carried her on her back through the water, but then stumbled on accumulated stones below. Both were swept away by the flood together.

Just when she thought she would surely die, someone waded into the water. Powerful arms grabbed her, carried her on his back, and waded through the rushing flood.

She had never seen such a cold, hard, yet resolute face among boys her age, nor leaned against such a broad back. Under the terror of nearly perishing in the mountain flood, she sobbed quietly pressed against his back the entire time.

Yet the person carrying her said not a word, silent as a desolate mountain.

Carriages, horses, and luggage were mostly swept away by the flood. She and the remaining servants were escorted by that cavalry unit to a nearby post station.

Before she even knew his name, he left.

She cried all night at the post station with her wet nurse, fearing if this matter spread it would ruin her reputation, making it even more impossible to escape the fate of becoming a concubine to that nearly seventy-year-old Salt Transport Commissioner.

After arriving at her maternal grandparents’ home, not long after, a marriage proposal was delivered. It shocked her grandfather into reading it over and over again, then fearfully asking the matchmaker—was it truly that Marquis Wei, who had been widowed for years, seeking to remarry?

The Wei Manor’s status—even as a second wife—wasn’t something their small household could hope to reach.

After confirming he was the one proposing marriage, the night before she returned home, her grandmother held her hand and spoke many words.

She said Marquis Wei was of noble character. His manor had no concubines. After marrying in, the household staff would be simple, with no parents-in-law above to oppress her—a fortunate blessing. Only she must remember to treat that eldest young master well.

Learning he already had a wife and child, she felt uncomfortable, but thinking his first wife had been dead nearly ten years, she felt relieved.

The day she first met his brilliant eldest son, he surprisingly called her “mother.”

She had been extremely happy, but under some servants’ shocked yet secretive gazes, she gradually sensed something amiss.

He spent most of each month sleeping in his study. She knew he was busy with official duties and the study was an important place in the marquis manor. Besides his personal attendants, others couldn’t easily enter. So she never dared make unreasonable requests.

Her heart remained suspicious until after she became pregnant. While strolling the garden, she inadvertently overheard manor servants discussing how he doted on her, even hanging her portrait in his study.

Just as sweetness rose in her heart, she heard the manor’s old servants shush the discussion, saying not to mention this matter—the painting hung in the study was of his first wife, dead ten years.

That day she went mad. Taking advantage of him not yet returning from the government office, relying on her pregnancy so the guards dared not touch her, she forced her way into the study and saw that painting hanging on his study wall.

At first glance, she thought it was herself. But she quickly and sadly realized she couldn’t produce the bright, bold expression of the woman in the painting.

The date inscribed in the painting’s lower corner was from even earlier.

That moment, she couldn’t tell if it was anger or grievance, or perhaps jealousy.

Every day in his study, was he gazing at this painting while missing his late wife?

Did he marry her as his second wife because she greatly resembled his late wife? Or because he felt saving her from the flood had ruined her reputation?

She dared not, and was unwilling to ponder that answer further. Impulsively, she picked up a candlestick and set fire to that painting.

When he rushed back and saw the study engulfed in flames, he didn’t move his important documents, nor did he acknowledge her weeping heart out. He only tried to rescue that painting burned to mere corners.

That was also the first time since their marriage he lost his temper with her.

The man whose eyes had never reddened even when barbarians slashed scars across his shoulders and back now red-eyed touched the ashes left after the painting burned. When she tearfully demanded an explanation, he coldly told her to get out.

Her great sorrow caused fetal movement and bleeding. She was carried out of the study.

She was stubborn too. From then until now, over twenty years, she had never voluntarily come to his study again.

Tonight was the second time.

Madam Wei took a deep breath. Thinking of this visit’s purpose, she said harshly: “You wanted Jin’er to marry that actress, and I agreed. What now? Because he disrespected that actress, you’re punishing him to kneel in the ancestral hall? If I drink the tea that actress serves tomorrow morning, will the Marquis also use disregarding hierarchy as grounds to punish me to kneel and beg forgiveness from our ancestors?”

Wei Qishan heavily set down the official documents in his hand. After covering his mouth and coughing several times, he said coldly: “If you continue spoiling him, that unfilial son will be even more ruined!”

Hearing him speak ill of their son, Madam Wei’s eyes reddened with anger again: “If you can teach him well, then teach! Have you properly taught him these years? Every time he comes before you, you either beat or scold him. Did you teach your eldest son this way back then too? You always say my Jin’er is bad in a thousand ways, ten thousand ways, but I see he’s good everywhere! Diligent in studies, hard-working in martial arts, and filial! You and your subordinate generals all look down on him—why not just say directly that you look down on him for not being born from your late wife’s belly!”

Finishing this burst of anger, Madam Wei turned her face away, continuously wiping tears with her handkerchief.

Wei Qishan’s expression was extremely cold. Forcibly suppressing his temper: “You’re comparing him to Chuan’er? Chuan’er entered the military camp at fourteen, at sixteen could pursue barbarian armies with inferior numbers and establish great merit. That unfilial son has been spoiled by you to the point he can’t even endure military hardships. When subordinate officers fight at the front lines, he enjoys luxuries in the rear. How do you expect the army to respect him? The strategic essays Chuan’er wrote at thirteen have more insight than the pile of waste paper he writes now! Even if he were somewhat slow-witted, as long as he treated people loyally and kindly, plenty of officers would respect him. Instead, he’s been spoiled into an arrogant, self-important fool!”

He stared coldly at Madam Wei: “You blame me for not teaching him properly! Now that I’ve begun teaching him, don’t come crying and wailing!”

Madam Wei had never been so harshly scolded by him. Red-eyed with unstoppable tears: “Is that teaching a child? Do you know how wronged he feels inside? Marrying an actress as a wife is one thing, but on his wedding day to be humiliated by those volunteer armies outside the city making such a scene—those volunteer armies clearly don’t regard him as Young Lord! Did you consider his dignity?”

She seemed utterly aggrieved on her son’s behalf. Having spoken, she covered her face and sobbed.

Wei Qishan coldly shouted: “Dignity is earned by oneself! When he himself is an embroidered pillow, who should respect him? If he hadn’t arrogantly ordered subordinates to trample a military officer to death, none of this would have happened!”

Mentioning that old matter, Madam Wei couldn’t help but rage again, crying: “You don’t care about Minmin’s safety, and now won’t even allow her brother to seek justice for her…”

Hearing her drag up Wei Jiamin’s horse-trampling incident again, Wei Qishan grew irritated and shouted: “The nation has national laws, the army has military regulations!”

“I speak to you of our daughter, you speak to me of military regulations. If Minmin truly had some mishap that day, you wouldn’t bear to punish your beloved generals even slightly, would you?” Madam Wei cried even harder.

This entire conversation was like chickens talking to ducks.

In earlier years, Wei Qishan felt his wife was more than a full zodiac cycle younger than him, and they didn’t spend much time together, so he rarely argued with her. Only today did he realize that after over twenty years, his wife’s temperament was no different from when she newly married him.

He gave up continuing to reason with her, pressing his brow and saying icily: “I’ve said before—if he only wants to be a wealthy idle person, I’d be far more secure picking several loyal subordinates to adopt as sons and handing Northern Wei’s foundation to them than putting it in his hands!”

Madam Wei suddenly said sharply: “Don’t you just want to restore Jin for your late wife! You’ve already forced Jin’er to marry that actress pretending to be a former Jin princess, and now you say you’ll hand the foundation over to your subordinate generals. Wei Qishan, you have no conscience! Search your heart—if that eldest son of yours were still alive, would you bear to make him marry such a lowly legitimate wife!”

“She’s already a fake former Jin princess—couldn’t you pick a girl with a clean, proper background? Isn’t my natal niece more presentable than that actress?”

Wei Qishan’s voice was unexpectedly stern and cold: “Comparable in what? Propriety? Conversation? Or bearing?”

“Even among those aristocratic young ladies, how many could remain composed before three armies?”

Perhaps angered to the extreme, Wei Qishan’s brow showed only coldness: “She was chosen because no matter what she learned, she was the fastest and best learner among that batch of suitable young women. You look down on her actress origins, but it’s precisely that courage and boldness she accumulated on stage that allows her to uphold the bearing a dynasty’s princess should have!”

Madam Wei still felt aggrieved for her son: “She’s just a puppet fake princess—must she also show her face in public?”

Wei Qishan said coldly: “The Liang princess could single-handedly prop up a crumbling realm. Should my Great Jin princess appear timid and cowering before the world?”

Having been too angry today, after another coughing fit, feeling the heavy metallic taste in his throat, unwilling to argue further with Madam Wei, he ordered toward the door: “Wei Xian, escort Madam back!”

Madam Wei still wanted to argue something with Wei Qishan. Seeing Wei Xian had already pushed the door open, she only raised her hand to wipe her eyes, unwilling to appear so disheveled before servants.

After Wei Xian made a “please” gesture to her, Madam Wei grabbed her handkerchief herself and departed with a rigid face.

Wei Xian escorted her all the way to the bottom of the steps. Only after Madam Wei had servant women supporting her did she coldly order Wei Xian to return, stating she didn’t need his escort.

Far from the study’s location, Madam Wei walked almost the entire way crying while leaning on the railing.

The servant women beside her tried to comfort her. She beat her chest with her handkerchief-clutching hand, weeping: “I should have become that Salt Transport Commissioner’s concubine back then, or been swept away by the flood—anything! I shouldn’t have married here! What does he take me for… nothing but an object to remember his late wife!”

This servant woman was Madam Wei’s wet nurse. She hurriedly said: “Madam, you mustn’t say such angry words!”

Madam Wei cried: “Look how he treats my Jin’er! Instead of living a good life, why restore Jin? Isn’t it just because back then he surrendered to Liang, his first wife killed herself, and he feels he wronged her…”

The wet nurse felt her lady had everything she should have, yet was instead confused while blessed, unable to see clearly. She advised: “Madam, why must you always compete with the dead?”

“No matter what the first Madam was like, what the eldest young master was like—they’re all people under the earth now. If the Marquis restores Jin and the Young Lord is the Marquis’s only son, when he unifies the world in the future, won’t the Young Lord still inherit everything? Why can’t you see what’s before your eyes?”

Madam Wei cried in extreme anger: “How noble my Jin’er is—how can he make him marry an actress!”

The wet nurse truly felt her lady had lived too smoothly these decades. Wei Qishan had no concubines, and in her twenty-plus years at Wei Manor, her temperament had grown even worse than when she was an unmarried girl. Her thinking was also one-track, stubbornly fixated.

She said: “Madam, a man marrying a wife isn’t limited to once in a lifetime. Once that ‘Princess’ gives birth to the Young Lord’s child, if she’s injured during childbirth and passes—the Young Lord’s child would still carry former Jin imperial blood. The Marquis’s restoration of Jin would be even more justified. Not to mention when the Young Lord ascends the throne he’ll need to fill his harem extensively—even if after having an heir he remarries, what kind of noble lady couldn’t you choose? As for the title of the Young Lord’s first wife, to outsiders she’s still a former Jin princess—who would dare look down on that? You must look to the long term. What’s the point of fixating only on the present?”

After her wet nurse’s persuasion, Madam Wei finally gradually stopped crying. As the wet nurse supported her walking back, she still choked with sorrow: “He treats me poorly…”

The wet nurse could only continue advising: “My dear lady, what use is affection? Among your maiden friends back then, how many married satisfactory husbands, yet in later years their husbands took concubines and the inner quarters became daily chaos? This man’s heart being on a dead person is far better than on a living one. Never mind what the Marquis thinks—in the future, won’t everything in this marquis manor belong to you, the Young Lord, and the County Princess?”

In the dark, cold night, pavilions, towers, and roadside stone lantern towers glowed dimly, winding and extending like swimming dragons into the distance, illuminating the entire stone path covered with a thin layer of snow. Madam Wei’s weeping and the wet nurse’s admonishments grew increasingly distant.

—

In the Wei Manor study, the moment Wei Xian closed the door, he saw Wei Qishan supporting himself against the desk, having coughed up large bloodstains again.

Wei Xian’s expression panicked. He hurried toward the door again: “I’ll call the manor physician.”

Wei Qishan stopped him: “Taking the pulse again will show the same thing. With the southern campaign imminent, don’t spread word of this and needlessly cause panic among subordinates.”

He took two breaths before continuing: “Clean up this desk and bring me the maps of the Northern Territory and the Central Plains heartland.”

Wei Xian’s eyes reddened: “Marquis, why don’t you rest today!”

Wei Qishan raised his eyes: “In my youth I could endure three days and nights without sleep. Do you think I now lack even the energy to examine a map by candlelight?”

Wei Xian had no choice. Understanding his marquis was also strong-willed, he could only comply and fetch the maps.

Wei Qishan, by the candlestick at hand, pointed to several routes on the map: “The Liang camp shouldn’t advance north on all fronts. After capturing Ziyang Pass, they should quickly reconnect the north-south arterial routes. If they can’t fully deploy forces along the northern line, they’ll need to use terrain, advancing north along the Qiling mountain range, marching through the mountains. This both avoids direct strangulation by Pei’s army and allows unexpected targeted attacks on cities from Tongzhou to Mozhou. For her Prince Changlian’s lineage, the old prefecture Fengyang is more important than the capital Luodu. Hanyang previously had the main army continue advancing north, seemingly to take Xiangzhou—likely just a feint.”

Wei Xian looked at the map for a while: “But Fengyang is positioned in the north-south heartland. Even if Princess Hanyang attacks there, she probably can’t hold it.”

Wei Qishan said: “What if she’s only trying to seize a person?”

Wei Xian started slightly, only then remembering Prince Changlian’s heir’s consort seemed still detained in Pei Song’s hands.

He unconsciously shook his head: “If her mother were still alive, the Liang camp attacking Fengyang would be a certainty. But mobilizing forces just for an elder sister-in-law taken by Pei Song—even if Princess Hanyang has this intention, her subordinate Liang ministers probably wouldn’t easily agree.”

Wei Qishan said: “You’ve forgotten—this elder sister-in-law helped her rescue the Liang camp’s Yu Zideng and other old ministers.”

Wei Xian asked: “Does the Marquis have a campaign strategy?”

Wei Qishan said after a coughing fit: “‘Jiang Yu’s concubine’ was abducted midway. The Liang envoys this time only took Jiang Yu’s corpse back. The benefits we couldn’t obtain in these negotiations, we must reclaim from this southern campaign.”

When he raised his eyes again, looking at Wei Xian, his expression was rarely solemn: “If anything unexpected happens to me on this trip, that Xiao youngster cannot be kept alive!”

Wei Xian felt Wei Qishan was making a final testament. He immediately knelt down, tearfully calling out “Marquis.”

Wei Qishan clenched the hand he’d earlier held to his mouth, feeling the sticky wetness in his palm. Like finally willing to acknowledge his aging, he said: “In the entire Northern Territory, there is no one left who can suppress him.”