Wen Yu hadn’t slept well the previous night. By the time she returned from the government office, she was extremely exhausted, yet she forced herself to muster her spirits and continue reading through the memorials that Chen Wei had sent over. Seeing her constantly rubbing her temples, Zhaobai advised, “It’s still early. Why don’t you rest a bit more, Wengzhu?”
Wen Yu’s gaze remained fixed on the memorial as she shook her head. “It’s no matter. Given the current state of affairs, I cannot afford to rest. I once thought that governing the realm was a heavy burden my father and brother should bear, so I never seriously studied national policy and political discourse. Now that this burden has fallen upon my shoulders, naturally I must pick up everything I neglected in the past.” The Prince of Changlian’s manor had always stood at the eye of the storm, cultivating in her a keen perception for observing the political situation, and through constant exposure, she had gained some insight into employing people. However, when it came to truly governing the state and discussing political affairs, there was still far too much she needed to learn. The lessons she had gleaned from sitting in on her brother’s classes and learning from Grand Tutor Yu were insufficient to support her in governing a city or a country. She had to, within this pressing timeframe, grow as quickly as possible into a mature wielder of power.
Zhaobai understood what troubled Wen Yu. After that conversation, she also grasped why Li Yao and the others showed her disrespect. She said, “The Grand Tutor is a man of vast learning. After Fengyang fell, Pei Song confined the Grand Tutor separately, presumably intending to persuade him to surrender. If the Grand Tutor were still by your side, Wengzhu, you wouldn’t have to work so hard.” With Grand Tutor Yu’s prestige, not to mention one Li Yao—even if ten more such stubborn and self-opinionated individuals appeared, they wouldn’t dare act presumptuously before Grand Tutor Yu.
Wen Yu’s hand paused slightly as she turned the page. Thinking of the many former ministers still detained in Fengyang, her heart sank several degrees. She wondered how many of those officials remained after the previous assassination attempt on Pei Song. She wearily closed her eyes for a moment and said, “Zhaobai, prepare me a pot of strong tea.”
Zhaobai accepted the command and went out. When she returned bearing tea, she found that Wen Yu had already fallen asleep from exhaustion, leaning against the imperial concubine couch with the memorial still in her hand. The warm spring sunlight was balmy. Outside the lattice windows, fine bamboo blinds hung in a staggered row. Sunlight leaked through those gaps, illuminating the green sandalwood desk and Wen Yu’s hand holding the scroll. The halo of light filtering through the thin gauze sleeves fell upon those lustrous arms like rippling water.
Zhaobai couldn’t bear to disturb Wen Yu. She quietly set down the teacup and withdrew. When maids in the courtyard walked a bit too briskly, Zhaobai made a silencing gesture toward them. The maids looked on in trepidation as Zhaobai said expressionlessly, “Wengzhu is asleep. Do not disturb her.” The maids all nodded, and when entering or leaving the main courtyard thereafter, they moved with extreme quietness. For a time, only the chirping of birds could be heard outside the windows.
After extricating himself from Fan Yuan’s side, Xiao Li returned intending to see Wen Yu. By then, the one guarding outside the main chamber was no longer Zhaobai, but a maid Chen Wei had arranged to serve Wen Yu. After Xiao Li stated his purpose, the maid couldn’t decide what to do and hesitated. “Wengzhu has been sleeping since returning from the government office. Miss Zhaobai gave orders that we must not disturb Wengzhu. You… perhaps you could come back later?”
Fearing the room would be stuffy, the lattice windows hadn’t been completely closed—only fine bamboo blinds had been lowered to block the outside light. Xiao Li glanced toward the interior of the room and caught sight of a section of an embroidered silk skirt trailing down below the imperial concubine couch. Sunlight filtering through the fine gaps in the bamboo blinds fell in strips upon the skirt hem. The gold-threaded embroidered patterns were dazzlingly gorgeous, like brilliant light on phoenix plumage.
Xiao Li withdrew his gaze and said, “No matter. I’ll wait here until Wengzhu wakes.”
The maid didn’t know what matter Xiao Li needed to report to Wen Yu, so she dared not dismiss him arbitrarily. She brought over a chair for him to sit and wait, but he didn’t sit. With his back to the lattice window, he stood beneath the eaves, from when the sun hung high until it descended toward the western hills. Wind blew courtyard pear blossoms scattering like snow. Many landed on his shoulders, yet he only stood there with lowered lashes leaning against a pillar, unusually quiet and melancholy. Passing maids who saw him couldn’t help but steal extra glances, yet constrained by his status, they dared not look closely.
When movement finally came from inside the room and someone called for attendance, the maid waiting outside hurriedly brought in a washbasin. Wen Yu had been troubled by too many worries lately. This nap had been quite deep. Upon waking, she noticed the light in the room had dimmed considerably, and her neck ached somewhat from leaning against the imperial concubine couch for too long. She took the handkerchief the maid handed her and asked, “Why didn’t you wake me?”
The maid answered apprehensively, “Miss Zhaobai said you rarely get a good sleep and told us not to disturb you.”
This was indeed something Zhaobai would instruct. Wen Yu pressed her temples and asked, “Where is Zhaobai?”
The maid answered, “It seems there was some matter on Lord Li Xun’s side. He summoned Miss Zhaobai over, and she hasn’t returned yet.” After a pause, she added, “Righteous Knight Xiao has been waiting outside the door, saying he has matters to see you about. He’s been waiting all afternoon.”
Wen Yu wiped her hands with the handkerchief. Her gaze passed through the wide-open lattice window to look outside, catching sight of that tall, upright figure. She said, “Summon him in.”
The maid responded with a “Yes” and respectfully withdrew carrying the copper basin. Shortly after, Xiao Li entered.
Wen Yu remained leaning against the imperial concubine couch without moving, picking up the memorial again to read. Hearing footsteps, she pointed to a circular chair nearby and said, “Sit.”
After Xiao Li took his seat, he noticed the memorial in her hand bore a bright red seal stamp—it appeared to have already been reviewed. He asked, “You’re reading reviewed memorials?”
Wen Yu lifted her eyes to glance at him briefly. “I’m not omniscient. To learn how to handle government affairs, naturally it’s faster to study the prefecture’s past memorials. Everything has its methods. Once you grasp the methods, when you encounter similar difficulties in the future, you’ll know what to do.”
Xiao Li was slightly stunned. This was the first time he’d heard Wen Yu say there were things she didn’t know. Perhaps because she always appeared so effortlessly capable, he had nearly forgotten that she too had once been merely a royal noblewoman extremely well protected by her parents and brother. Only after Great Liang’s collapse and the slaughter of the entire Wen clan had she been forced to rapidly grow a full suit of armor.
For a moment, Xiao Li felt she no longer seemed so unreachably distant. That cold, clear moon was flowing with softness in the rippling moonlight. He lowered his eyes and said, “Wengzhu is brilliant. I’m sure you’ll learn quickly.”
Wen Yu’s tone was half-mocking, half-not: “So-called brilliance is merely a desperate struggle when forced into a corner with no way out.” Her gaze returned to Xiao Li as she asked, “You’ve been waiting outside for half a day. Is there some urgent matter?”
Xiao Li looked quietly at the dignified elegance and weariness on her face. “Not urgent matters, really. I just thought that since I’m going to the military camp, I should bid you farewell in person.”
Wen Yu fingered the memorial, not turning to the next page for a long while. She only said, “Go then. Don’t waste time on such matters in the future. What you should be doing right now—there’s much more of it.”
Xiao Li sat with his legs apart, his body leaning slightly forward, his solid, powerful elbow joints resting on his knees. His long lashes lowered, concealing the expression in his eyes. “I won’t disappoint you, nor do I feel that coming to bid you farewell in person is a waste of time.”
Having said this, he strode out.
Zhaobai, returning from Li Xun’s side, happened to encounter him coming out of Wen Yu’s room. The two met under the eaves, both with impassive expressions. Zhaobai stepped aside. After Xiao Li departed, she entered the room and asked Wen Yu, who sat on the couch reading memorials yet was clearly somewhat distracted, “Wengzhu, did he come to—”
“He’s about to go to the military camp. I gave him some instructions.” Wen Yu interrupted Zhaobai’s words, then asked, “What happened on Lord Li’s side?”
Zhaobai recalled why she’d gone out. Her expression darkened somewhat. “After returning from the morning discussion, Lord Li Xun kept trying to counsel Li Yao. However, Li Yao is arrogant by nature and said some highly disrespectful things about Wengzhu. Lord Li Xun feared some disturbance might arise, so he had me go intimidate him somewhat.”
Hearing this, Wen Yu’s expression remained calm. She thought for a moment and said, “Although Li Yao doesn’t submit to me, he’s utterly loyal to the prince’s manor, so he shouldn’t cause any major disturbances. Keep watch on that group of scheming officials who either follow his lead or are still wavering uncertainly on the road—these are the ones likely to do foolish things.”
Zhaobai nodded in acknowledgment.
Wen Yu closed the memorial in her hand and looked at her. “Additionally, I need more manpower.”
—
In the blink of an eye, ten days had passed. Military life was monotonous. Daily drills made Zhao Youcai’s group cry out in suffering, though their physiques visibly became more robust. According to military regulations, newly enlisted soldiers should have been reorganized with their household registrations mixed up. However, Fan Yuan felt it improper to incorporate the five hundred soldiers brought from Xinzhou into his own forces, as they belonged to Wen Yu. But after Xiao Li also came to work in the military, having him command only those five hundred soldiers seemed inadequate, so Fan Yuan allocated another two thousand men to Xiao Li.
After taking command, Xiao Li didn’t maintain the clear distinction Fan Yuan had. Instead, he reorganized those new recruits together with the Pingzhou troops assigned to him. Ordinarily, he addressed the military officers as brothers, and when drinking and conversing they seemed utterly devoted to each other. Yet by tacit understanding, there always seemed to be an uncrossable boundary there. Those military officers were Pingzhou’s generals. While he was Wen Yu’s man.
He had reorganized those five hundred soldiers together with the two thousand Pingzhou troops. The rank-and-file soldiers below didn’t sense that alienating feeling of being unable to integrate, but within that iron wall he couldn’t break through, Xiao Li gradually began to feel a trace of restlessness. It was from these subtle details that he suddenly understood the entire attitude of Pingzhou toward Wen Yu.
Pingzhou acknowledged Wen Yu as master because Chen Wei recognized Wen Yu as master. This also determined that Pingzhou’s troops were not forces Wen Yu could deploy at will like her own direct subordinates. If she wanted to mobilize troops, she still needed to consult with Chen Wei. And maintaining all of this depended entirely on Chen Wei’s loyalty alone. Or rather, even if Chen Wei’s loyalty were insufficient, as long as the current situation made serving Wen Yu as master still most advantageous for him, that would suffice.
Xiao Li didn’t know if Wen Yu had thought through all this long ago. That day in the government office’s council hall, she proposed borrowing troops from Southern Chen to campaign northward, making Pingzhou serve as that door bolt. But from another angle, if Pingzhou turned traitor, Southern Chen could also attack from both front and rear. She seemed to have never completely trusted any party, using the principle of checks and balances from beginning to end.
Xiao Li recalled what Wen Yu had told him at Bodhi Temple—that many things become complicated once tainted with power and position. A thought suddenly arose in his heart: what about him? Toward him, was she also constantly weighing pros and cons, or did she trust unconditionally?
Xiao Li couldn’t arrive at an answer, so he simply buried himself in the vast sea of military texts and documents. Wen Yu was also studying the art of governance through Pingzhou’s past official documents and memorials. In a sense, she had severely motivated him. He began to realize that Wen Yu wasn’t born omnipotent either. She too would be confused, would have things she didn’t understand, but she would only force herself to learn.
If he wanted to catch up to her, he inevitably had to study more diligently and work harder than she did. The military officers who regularly trained troops with him, after being “consulted” by him too many times, each developed dark circles under their eyes and sallow complexions. When news reached Fan Yuan’s ears, he tactfully suggested to Xiao Li, “Since Brother Xiao is so eager to learn, why not request a strategist to attend you?”
Xiao Li thought this was a good idea. However, before he could engage a strategist, news came from Wen Yu’s side that she had been attacked in the streets!