At the residence of the Marquis of Dingbei, Marquis Fu Ping saw Wei Ling arriving early in the morning in a sedan chair and immediately welcomed him inside.
Noticing Wei Ling’s serious expression, Fu Ping assumed he had come to discuss important matters. He dismissed the attendants and sent a trusted servant to guard the entrance. He even brought out his father’s untouched Da Hong Pao tea to brew for the Duke of Ying. Only after these preparations did he ask, “What brings you here? You can speak freely now.”
Wei Ling glanced at him and said languidly, “I’ve come mainly to seek your advice on how best to raise a daughter.”
Fu Ping nearly choked on his tea, startled by Wei Ling’s words. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? There’s nothing to ask about that!”
Wei Ling replied, “I wanted to tell you as soon as I arrived, but you kept interrupting me.”
Fu Ping snorted, “Never mind. Considering you’ve lost your senses, I won’t hold it against you.” He wiped his mouth and straightened his posture. “Doesn’t your family have an adopted young lady named Zhao Mingzhu? I recall she was brought to your household as an infant and raised as a proper young lady.”
Wei Ling sneered, “A mere plaything brought in to amuse the old madam is hardly comparable to Yining!” He fidgeted with the ring on his finger and continued, “I’ll arrange for the old madam to marry her off soon. I’ll provide a dowry and consider my duty fulfilled. When Yining returned, I wanted to remove her from the household to avoid upsetting Yining. However, given the old madam’s deep affection after raising her for years, I’ve left her be. We’ll see if she knows her place.”
Fu Ping now understood Wei Ling’s attitude toward his adopted daughter—he didn’t consider her significant.
He wondered how many in the capital’s noble circles truly understood the situation, and whether Zhao Mingzhu herself was aware of it.
“There’s nothing to ask about raising daughters,” Fu Ping said, puzzled. “My three daughters are under my wife’s care. I simply provide them with seasonal clothing and jewelry and occasionally check in on them.” This was how everyone raised daughters, after all. It was important to maintain the distinction between men’s and women’s roles.
“If you feel you can’t manage it well, why not simply take a wife to help you?” Fu Ping suggested with a smile. “You’ve been fighting in Mongolia with General Lu for four years. Isn’t it time for you to marry?”
Wei Ling had no desire to marry at present. It would be troublesome, and he feared a new wife might have too many thoughts of her own and treat Yining poorly.
He shook his head. “Let’s not discuss that now.” Wei Ling hesitated before continuing, “My girl is now thirteen, almost fourteen. The last time we dined together, I noticed she didn’t seem to enjoy the food I selected for her. Girls are different from boys—I can discipline Tingge with a beating, but I wouldn’t dare lay a finger on her. I’m at a loss for how to become closer to her.”
Wei Ling recalled that since her return, Yining hadn’t called him “Father” even once.
Fu Ping furrowed his brow and repeated some advice his wife had shared: “It’s enough to inquire about her studies daily and make time to dine with her—you must pamper her! I spend hundreds of taels of silver each year on cosmetics for my three daughters. My wife never hesitates to indulge their likes. I’m not sure about other matters, but you can’t go wrong with a kind attitude.”
Wei Ling listened with a frown, slowly pulling out a small notebook and a brush, which he dipped in tea. “Say that again. I’ll write it down.”
Was this truly the famous General Wei Ling, Duke of Ying, whose mere name struck fear into enemy hearts on the battlefield? Fu Ping was tempted to grab his face for a closer look, just to make sure he wasn’t mistaken.
Seeing Fu Ping’s hesitation, Wei Ling raised an eyebrow. “Well? Go on.”
Fu Ping cleared his throat and repeated his earlier advice, embellishing it with additional details.
By the time Wei Ling was satisfied and ready to leave, it was already afternoon. Fu Ping saw him off at the main gate, marveling at how having a daughter seemed to have humanized the Duke of Ying.
He returned to his chambers, lost in thought.
Meanwhile, Yining went to Wei Ling’s study to wait for him, intending to discuss matters concerning Songzhi and Qingqu.
As a martial man, Wei Ling’s study contained few books, with many complete sets left unopened. The two senior maids attending to Wei Ling offered Yining tea and asked if she wanted a book to read. Yining declined and approached Wei Ling’s desk, noticing the clutter.
She began tidying up, returning brushes to their holders, and rolling up unused scrolls to place in ceramic containers.
One of the senior maids seemed about to say something. Wei Ling disliked others touching his desk and rarely allowed anyone into his study, so it was always left untidy. However, the other maid quickly gripped her arm, signaling her to remain silent.
As Yining continued organizing, she came across a letter on the desk.
It contained only eight characters: “Jingmen has anomalies, do not act rashly.” It was signed with the character “Lu.”
Yining felt a chill as she recognized the handwriting. It was deeply familiar to her—the same as on the Buddhist sutras he had transcribed for her to give to the Lu family matriarch, the poems he had casually written on her ink bamboo paintings, and even the list of betrothal gifts. Back then, she had believed he had personally written the gift list out of special care for her.
But now, those once charming details were reduced to these eight cold, concise characters on the paper before her, devoid of any emotion.
“Yining, are you here to see me?” Wei Ling had returned and was outside the study.
Yining covered the letter with a book and took a deep breath.
Lu Jiaxue… He always managed to unsettle her. Even seeing his handwriting affected her this way, let alone the man himself. After all these years, Lu Jiaxue remained the person Luo Yining’s past self could never forget. She had truly believed he cared for her, only to discover his cold calculations at every turn.
Luo Yining had thought her heart had grown strong enough, but Lu Jiaxue could still throw her off balance. Perhaps even twenty years from now, that wouldn’t change.
By the time she looked up, she had composed herself. She said to Wei Ling as he entered, “I’ve tidied your desk for you.”
Wei Ling glanced at the desk and smiled, praising her: “It does look much neater. Thank you for organizing it!” Fu Ping had said to pamper girls, so as long as she was happy, Wei Ling didn’t mind if she turned the whole study upside down.
The two maids exchanged glances, relieved they hadn’t interfered earlier.
Yining gestured for Wei Ling to sit in the large chair, then sat beside him. “I came to discuss Songzhi and Qingqu with you…”
Wei Ling’s brow furrowed slightly as he heard this. “They’re the maids you brought from the Luo family. I must be cautious of the Luos and can’t allow them to attend to you closely. Since you brought them, they can help manage your courtyard, but they can’t remain by your side.”
Yining knew it wouldn’t be easy to convince Wei Ling. She continued, “I brought them with me because I trust them completely.” She smiled at Wei Ling. “Do you trust me?”
Wei Ling didn’t answer immediately. He was willing to indulge her in other matters, but he couldn’t yield on this issue of her maids.
She grasped his hand and shook it gently. “If you trust me, shouldn’t you let me make this decision? Don’t you agree?”
Wei Ling stared at the hand holding his. She rarely initiated physical contact with him. If only she would act coy like other girls often did with their fathers. But Yining’s personality made that impossible. She could never bring herself to do such a thing… Wei Ling suddenly felt a twinge of regret.
Given her persistence, how could he refuse? Wei Ling sighed, “Very well. You may arrange your maids as you see fit.” He added, “But Zhenzhu must remain by your side.”
Yining also valued Zhenzhu highly. Zhenzhu knew the Duke of Ying’s household inside and out. While she might not yet fully prioritize Yining, she was certainly better than Daimao in that regard.
By now, darkness had fallen. A maid entered with a candelabra, filling the room with a warm, golden light.
Wei Ling asked Yining if she was hungry and offered to have the maids prepare supper.
Yining admitted she was a bit hungry. Wei Ling gently patted her head. “Wait here, Meimei. I’ll finish replying to this letter, then we’ll have dinner together.”
Yining smiled and nodded. She felt a sense of familiarity, as one might with a close relative.
Wei Ling walked to his desk to write his reply. Yining watched his tall figure, made even more imposing by the candlelight casting his shadow on the curio cabinet. As she waited, Yining grew drowsy but felt completely at ease in Wei Ling’s presence. She curled up in the large chair, quietly waiting for him to finish writing.
After completing his reply, Wei Ling called for a guard to deliver it. He turned to find the young girl still curled up in the chair, having nearly dozed off while waiting. She looked so delicate and small, out of place among the serious furnishings and the oversized chair. Wei Ling was suddenly filled with a sense of fatherly responsibility. This child was so small and fragile; she truly needed his protection.
Wei Ling called to her softly, and Yining, still groggy, allowed him to lead her out of the study. Outside, night had fallen.
By the time Yining fully regained her senses, she found herself seated at the table for dinner.
After the meal, Wei Ling personally escorted her back to her quarters. As he was about to leave, he remembered something and said to her, “From now on, I’d like you to oversee your brother’s studies. He’s quite mischievous, and only I can truly keep him in line. If he doesn’t listen to you, let me know, and I’ll discipline him.” Wei Ling believed boys shouldn’t be spoiled and needed occasional beatings to behave. Especially since he had been away for several years, the child had become spoiled.
It wouldn’t do for his son to be close to Zhao Mingzhu but not his sister. When he grew old and the boy inherited the title of Duke of Ying, it would be problematic if he and Yining were not on good terms.
“You don’t need to wake up early. I’ll have him come to you tomorrow,” Wei Ling said. “He’s currently being tutored by Cheng Lang, who will come to teach him tomorrow. You can sit in on the lessons if you’d like.”
Yining respectfully bid Wei Ling farewell, feeling a headache coming on. Given her previous encounter with Cheng Lang, she wasn’t sure how tomorrow’s meeting would go.