Because Wang Daxia was pressing urgently, Commander Mu mixed private affairs with official business, sending the letter about family matters as urgent military intelligence delivered with hundred-li haste to Wang Qianhu, who was far away in Jiangxi.
Wang Qianhu was conducting naval drills on Poyang Lake. Since being transferred here two years ago, he had strictly focused on military affairs, gathering together garrison soldiers who only knew farming for training.
Wang Qianhu’s actions offended many people. Jiangxi was an inland region—unlike the northwestern borders where Mongols continuously invaded, or the southeastern coast troubled by Japanese pirates. This place had been peaceful for long periods, only experiencing a few months of chaos over forty years ago when Prince Ning of Nanchang, Jiangxi, rebelled. At that time, the Ming emperor was Emperor Zhengde, who led a personal expedition from Beijing to the south.
But at that time, the Ming had a capable minister named Wang Shouren who emerged like a thunderbolt, quelling Prince Ning’s rebellion with lightning speed while Emperor Zhengde’s personal expedition was still halfway there.
So this place had been comfortable too long. The dozen or so garrisons under Jiangxi Regional Military Commission’s jurisdiction hadn’t seen blood for over forty years, only knowing farming, hardly different from ordinary farmers. They had no fighting spirit—their swords were rusted, and they didn’t even have armor.
The result was that two years ago, when Japanese pirates fled here after being pursued by General Qi’s army, nine pirates could take a small county town. How infuriating was that?
Wang Qianhu was a practical military officer. Posted to Jiangxi as Assistant Regional Commander, besides monitoring the movements of Yan Song and his son Yan Shifan, he also boldly reformed abuses, driving soldiers from farmlands to training grounds, teaching martial arts and formation drills to give soldiers basic combat capability.
The soldiers complained endlessly. Originally they only needed to farm well, hand over a portion to the garrison, and keep the rest for themselves. Combined with military pay, they could support their families. Now they had to both farm and find time for training—it was exhausting. Their farming suffered, garrison income decreased, and complaints were everywhere.
But Wang Qianhu’s backing was Zhu Xizhong, the Grand Commander of the Five Military Commissions and Duke Chengguo. No one dared provoke him. Despite complaints, whenever Wang Qianhu assembled soldiers, the garrisons still had soldiers put down their hoes and take up weapons for training.
Now in August, during the busy autumn harvest season, Wang Qianhu was training naval warfare on Poyang Lake. Arrows flew weakly—more arrows landed in the lake than hit the straw dummy enemies on the warships.
When it came to cannon attacks, not one hit the target. Cannonballs shot into the water one after another—rather than warfare, it was like fishing with explosives.
This would only waste arrows and cannons. Wang Qianhu’s anger flared as he watched, ordering his subordinates to sound the retreat early.
Several gong sounds ended the drill. Soldiers jumped into the lake to grab the fish blasted out, showing no desire for victory—everything was just a game.
Seeing this disheartening scene, Wang Qianhu was helpless. Just then, a messenger delivered an urgent letter. Wang Qianhu thought it was new orders from Grand Commander Zhu Xizhong, so he quickly opened it…
Ugh, even more disheartening! His son was determined to marry the neighbor’s little widow.
Wang Qianhu first wanted to tear up the letter, throw the pieces into Poyang Lake to feed the fish, but halfway through tearing, he stopped. Sighing heavily at Poyang Lake, he knew his son—if he opposed this marriage, given his son’s temperament, he’d probably leave home.
If that happened, his son’s future career path would be difficult. A hat of unfilial conduct would be crushing—dismissal would be possible.
His son had earned his Battalion Commander position through life-and-death struggles at only seventeen years old, with unlimited prospects. Marrying a little widow would at most invite private mockery and pointing fingers. Widow remarriage wasn’t anything rare—it was reasonable, proper, and legal.
But defying and being unfilial, leaving home, would affect his son’s future.
In the letter, Commander Mu advised him: Wang Daxia is an opinionated child with devoted, persistent feelings for the little widow. If you as his father don’t help him, and Wang Daxia takes extreme measures, you’ll regret it. Why sacrifice your son’s future for outsiders’ gossip?
Mouths belong to others, but sons are your own flesh and blood. Which is more important is obvious at a glance.
Commander Mu understood Wang Qianhu too well. He rarely had kind words for Wang Daxia. Even out of concern, words somehow became sharp and fault-finding when they reached his lips, maintaining a stern father’s image.
But in his heart, Wang Qianhu still hoped his son would be well and was proud of his achievements at such a young age. No matter how much he disliked having a little widow as daughter-in-law, he didn’t want to ruin his son’s future.
After much deliberation, Wang Qianhu took up his brush to reply. After wasting a basket of paper, he finally wrote it out and sent it urgently to the capital.
The letter was to Wang Daxia. Wang Qianhu agreed to this marriage and wanted Commander Mu as matchmaker.
However, Wang Daxia, as the Wang family’s legitimate eldest son and heir, even though the woman he wanted to marry wasn’t from a great family but a parentless common widow, proper etiquette couldn’t be abandoned. When a woman marries, she follows her husband. The Wang family must marry Wei Caiwei with the grand ceremony befitting a clan daughter-in-law—not slighting her or holding a hasty wedding because of her humble birth. She would be the Wang family’s eldest daughter-in-law and couldn’t be looked down upon, as this would embarrass the Wang family.
Now, being far away in Jiangxi, he couldn’t personally manage his eldest son’s marriage. He requested Commander Mu’s help with the three letters and six rites—not one could be omitted. He asked the Imperial Astronomy Bureau to help match their birth charts and set a formal wedding date, preferably this December. Then he would request leave to return and attend his eldest son and daughter-in-law’s wedding, staying home through New Year before returning to Jiangxi.
Wang Daxia read it three times over to confirm his father’s agreement, jumped three feet high with joy, and rushed happily to find Wei Caiwei next door.
But Wei Caiwei had just returned home when she entered the palace, not knowing when she’d return.
Wang Daxia calmed down—it seemed one thing remained unfinished… Right!
Wang Daxia hurried to find Lu Ying. Lu Ying was buried in intelligence reports at her desk—information about the White Lotus Sect, An Da Khan’s court, and various Mongol tribes collected by Ding Wu.
Over these two years, she and Ding Wu hadn’t met face to face, but seeing each other’s letters was like meeting—they’d become each other’s closest confidants.
Two years had passed, and her right face scar had faded considerably. Only a centipede-like mark remained, easily hidden with powder, though she didn’t care and always went bare-faced.
Her nickname in the Brocade Guard was “Scarred Pretty Young Master.” She was so beautiful that even her scar was beautiful.
Wang Daxia sidled over: “Chief, I want to discuss something with you.”
Lu Ying didn’t look up, tapping the desk: “Put expense reports here—I’ll sign after reading the intelligence.”
“It’s not about expenses.” Wang Daxia pulled up a chair, sitting across from Lu Ying: “In a few days I’ll propose to Doctor Wei. I’ll give an explanation to Li Yiren—saying I’ve fallen for someone else.”
Hearing this, Lu Ying wasn’t surprised. She’d seen through everything two years ago. Finally looking up from her files, she said: “You’re seventeen, Doctor Wei is twenty—it’s time to marry. So the house you bought at Shichahai recently was for taking a wife—have you told Ding Wu?”
“Huh?” Wang Daxia startled, then said: “He shouldn’t object.”
Lu Ying said sternly: “Ding Wu is Doctor Wei’s sworn brother after all—elder brothers are like fathers. For such a major matter as marriage, how can you propose first and inform later? This brother-in-law is half your father-in-law. Regardless of his attitude, you must give advance notice—etiquette can’t be wrong. If you offend your brother-in-law before even marrying, will you have peaceful days ahead?”
Everyone has their position. Wang Qianhu’s position was face, clan system, and human relations. Lu Ying’s position was simple—Ding Wu.
Wang Daxia quickly stood: “There’s no time—I’ll go to the pigeon loft and send him a message.”
Lu Ying said: “Why rush? Doctor Wei won’t run away from the capital. Marriage is such a major matter—how can it be hasty? I’ll speak to my mother myself. It’s not that you fell for someone else—I’ll give her a reason. Don’t worry about it. Arrange your marriage properly, don’t be careless.”
Wang Daxia said urgently: “I’m not anxious—time waits for no one. Three years ago, I made a lifelong vow with her, agreeing to propose on August 23rd three years later. That date is the day after tomorrow—there’s no time to tell Ding Wu.”
Three years ago, Wang Daxia knew by heart the marriage contract Wei Caiwei had written: “Today I make a three-year lifelong vow with Wang Daxia. Once this contract is made, we’ll be eternally joined in good marriage. In years to come, may our descendants flourish and prosper. This testimony. Wei Caiwei, thirty-ninth year of Jiajing, August 23rd.”
“Three years ago?” Lu Ying studied Wang Daxia: “You really kept it secret. Since you made an early agreement, follow it—propose on time and fulfill your promise. However, the wedding must be carefully prepared, and give Ding Wu time to prepare Doctor Wei’s dowry. She’s his only sister—how could he let her be wronged? He’ll definitely want her to marry in grand style.”
After many twists and turns, fortunately everything went smoothly—good things take time. Wang Daxia happily did a somersault on the spot: “Thank you, Commander Lu, for your support.”
In the Forbidden City, Yude Palace.
Wei Caiwei returned from Prince Yu’s mansion and immediately entered the palace, naturally for the matter of the imperial grandson’s one-month hair-cutting ceremony.
She spoke frankly to Shang Qinglan about Li Jiubao giving birth to a son.
Hearing this, Shang Qinglan laughed joyfully: “This is wonderful—finally one of our batch of selected maidens has borne fruit.”
When Shang Qinglan was selected, she and Li Jiubao shared a room in Chuxiu Palace, so she was genuinely happy for her. After two years, innocence had become her “weapon” for conquering the emperor’s heart. Shang Qinglan was increasingly young and beautiful, but no longer the naive sweet girl who knew nothing of the world. She understood that for selected maidens sent to princely mansions as attendants, bearing sons was their only path.
Wei Caiwei explained the difficulty of cutting the hair of Li Jiubao’s son: “…The imperial grandson’s birth is good news, but His Majesty most abhors this. Upon hearing Prince Yu’s mansion has a son, he rages. No one dares mention it. I shamelessly come to Shang Yi—no matter what, let’s first cut the hair and acknowledge this child’s bloodline. As for naming and titles, we don’t dare hope for more.”
“I see…” Shang Zhaoyi pondered briefly. The old emperor’s health declined yearly—she naturally understood that Prince Yu, being the eldest, had the best chance of becoming the Forbidden City’s new master. Moreover, three years ago during the maiden selection controversy at Qionghua Island, she had already earned Prince Jing’s deep hatred. Having made an enemy, her future could only depend on Prince Yu.
Shang Qinglan thought, then said: “This matter is very tricky. Look—these three years, no matter how I’ve acted up, I’ve never dared touch the dragon’s reverse scale. I always went with the flow, making His Majesty happy, so his favor has never waned.”
“However, there is a way. His Majesty has cultivated the Dao for long and most believes in Heaven. When undecided about matters, he uses spirit writing to ask the heavens. Two years ago, sending the Yan father and son back to their native Jiangxi was inspired by spirit writing—though behind the scenes it was Chief Minister Xu Jie who bribed the two stinking Taoists conducting the séance. You wait first. When His Majesty next ascends the altar to conduct spirit writing, we’ll reveal this matter through the séance. His Majesty surely won’t blame Heaven. Heaven’s arrangements are supreme.”
Author’s Note: Three years have passed, everyone has grown—even the naive sweet girl has become cunning. Palace life really does train people.