Chapter 15: The Wei Family

The Wei family was indeed strict. When the Ye sisters arrived as guests, as soon as their carriage passed through the second gate, Lingbo deliberately smiled and asked the attending housekeeper, “Where is your young marquis?”

The housekeeper smiled in return. “Miss, rest assured, the marquis has already been disciplined.”

Marshal Wei, whose given name was Wei Hanhai, came from a declining military family known for its merits. He was once a subordinate to the Grand Duke Yongguo, the maternal grandfather of Shen Biwei, but his own achievements fell a bit short. While the old duke was famed for expanding the borders, Wei’s merit was in repelling the northern invaders, so his rank of marquis was the highest possible.

Once the marshal entered the capital, he was no longer addressed as “marshal.” Lingbo noticed the housekeeper’s quick wit and changed her tone, looking at her a little longer. The woman’s attire was in the latest fashion of the capital, her skin smooth and delicate—free from the harshness of the frontier’s weather. It seemed she was a housekeeper hired by Lady Wei after arriving in the capital. Alongside her was a senior maid who bore a resemblance to her; likely a niece or daughter.

In the capital, the best senior maids were usually born into the household—trusted insiders fully aware of the family’s roots, their bond sometimes closer than blood relatives. Still better than that were the daughters of the housekeeper herself.

No bond was closer than that between mother and daughter. The housekeeper matriarchs of the capital were shrewd survivors, having carved their way through countless battles and intrigues. Their lifetime of wisdom, knowledge of social graces, and secrets of the capital were passed down wholly to their daughters—this was the true “family tradition.” In some cases, nieces and nephews were also taught carefully.

Even Lingbo’s own attendants followed this model. Although Xiaoliu was clever and resourceful and accompanied Lingbo on outings, the one truly trained to manage the household was Yang Hua, steady and wise, having received Lady Yang’s genuine tutelage.

Today was no different. Xiaoliu was still the one who stepped down from the carriage with Lingbo. She was like a worm inside Lingbo’s belly, perceptive and aware. Seeing Lingbo pleased with the housekeeper, she immediately smiled and asked, “Your servant Xiaoliu wonders how to address Auntie?”

“You flatter me, Miss. My surname is Huang; I am a native of the capital. By the grace of the marquis’s wife, I was hired to manage the household affairs.”

“So it’s Aunt Huang,” Xiaoliu promptly said sweetly.

Lingbo smiled but remained silent. As a young lady of the inner chambers, it was natural to ask a few questions of the housekeeper, but to engage in a full conversation with another’s housekeeper could appear improper. Luckily, Xiaoliu gave a subtle glance, and another senior maid who had stayed behind began chatting with the maid resembling Aunt Huang.

By the time they entered the main hall, a maid approached Lingbo discreetly and whispered, “She is a companion of Lady Liu, the wife of the Minister Liu, who was demoted to Hengzhou. Upon leaving, many servants were released and gained their freedom. They now live in the northern part of the city, renting a place. Her husband has passed away, and Lady Wei took pity on her, allowing her to bring her daughter here to work.”

Lingbo responded with a soft hum, acknowledging this.

Along the way, she had already noticed the Wei family’s haste in coming to the capital. First, the location of this courtyard was poor. The grand households of the capital mostly resided in the south, or at least the east if space was tight. This place was already close to the northern city, larger but surrounded by ordinary families and quite dilapidated. It was likely that Lady Wei arrived with Marshal Wei, dragging her children along, and had to move in immediately without careful selection, settling for whatever was available.

The place was large, but poorly maintained. The outer courtyard was in ruins, and though the inner courtyard was tidied up as best as possible, it still looked bleak. The guest hall seemed temporarily arranged. The tables and chairs were old; the chair backs and table edges were new but coarse, bought from the market. Most noble families had tailors who made their own furnishings, which, while not necessarily beautiful, were never of poor quality.

The tea was good, likely gifts from social visits, but the cups were inferior, and the snacks worse—store-bought. There were four or five servants: one maid serving tea, another tending the fire in the corridor, and a rough housekeeper outside in the yard. None seemed to be old retainers from the frontier. It was known the army didn’t usually allow women, and although the marshal could bring his family, his women were probably used to self-reliance, with little service.

Lingbo also understood that this visit was somewhat burdensome. Rumor had it that Lady Wei was already unwell upon arriving in the capital, which was why she skipped the opening banquet of the Flower Message Feast, sending Wei Leshui alone.

But if not now, when else? The visit was not truly to deal with Wei Yushan but to gauge the situation before the Princess Regent hosted the Flower Message Feast, to learn more about Cui Jingyu and plan the next steps accordingly.

While they could afford to wait, the Lu sisters were not prepared to do so. After the Plum Blossom Banquet ended, Lu Wenyin arranged to visit the Wei household, just today. Even if they did not come, Lady Wei could not rest. Now that the Wei family was a marquisate, guests came and went, and many opportunists sought to ingratiate themselves. In the capital, husbands and wives always acted in concert; if the gentlemen paid respects to Marshal Wei, their wives naturally visited Lady Wei in the back courtyard. Illness was no excuse to avoid such visits.

Yet Lady Wei was likely genuinely ill. After the maids poured tea, Aunt Huang quickly stepped forward to apologize, “Madam says she neglected the young ladies and begs their forgiveness. Madam Yǐn will accompany you for tea.”

Lingbo wondered silently, “Which Madam Yǐn is that?” When the person lifted the curtain to enter, she immediately smiled.

Still, Qinglan was the closest to her. Upon seeing her, she rose with delight and exclaimed, “Yunrui, long time no see!”

“Long time no see,” the newcomer smiled and grasped her hand. “Sister Qinglan, I hope you have been well?”

Although Fu Yunrui’s name was beautiful, her appearance was merely above average, and her temperament gentle and mild. Compared to the glory of Ye, Han, and Lu at the top three of the Flower Message Feast, she was naturally less outstanding, ranking middle to upper tier.

But her close relationship with Qinglan was not because of the feast.

When Marshal Wei was still General Wei, he had two exceptional disciples—Cui Jingyu, who rose rapidly and was now a marquis, and another, the son of a comrade who had grown up by his side, named Yin Hongxuan. Even their names formed a poetic contrast. The two were of similar age, but Cui Jingyu surpassed him in martial skill, strategy, pedigree, and looks. The remarkable Tiance Captain had also shone at the Flower Message Feast.

Yin Hongxuan, by contrast, was ordinary. His family background was humble, unlike Cui Jingyu’s long-established military lineage. At that time, no one expected the northern border to erupt in war again, nor that the conflict would produce such outstanding new elites. In times of peace, even ordinary soldiers like Yin Hongxuan held little status in the capital, including Marshal Wei himself.

Yet at the Flower Message Feast, Fu Yunrui and Yin Hongxuan noticed each other, arranged a proposal and betrothal, and married that year. She followed him to the frontier, returning four years later in glory. Though he did not become a marquis, he was at least granted an official commendation. It seemed a story of a wise beauty recognizing a hero.

But Lingbo, for reasons unknown, found her somewhat haggard. Though the frontier’s wind and sand were harsh, the radiance of the eager young girl from four years ago had faded.

Acuo could not perceive all this but thought her a kind-natured woman, albeit a little tired, yet always smiling gently. She and Sister Qinglan were indeed close. The two held hands and looked at each other. Fu Yunrui said, “Sister Qinglan, you’ve lost weight.”

“Yunrui, you too,” Qinglan replied, tenderly tucking Yunrui’s hair behind her ear. Yunrui’s eyes reddened, but she smiled again.

Her silk-sleeved robe was luxurious but slightly outdated, evidently from her dowry and probably never worn on the frontier, still pristine. Her skin was roughened and lightly sunburned—a coarse dry yellow from the northern wind and sun, not a dark tan but like winter chapped skin, making makeup cling unevenly. Yet her expression held a quiet warmth and composure; these four years had not been wasted.

“Look at my memory!” she suddenly recalled. “Quick, bring Aman over so Sister Qinglan can see her.”

The old maid quickly fetched a two or three-year-old girl, whose brows and eyes resembled Yunrui, but whose facial structure mirrored Yin Hongxuan, appearing delicate and adorable.

Now even Lingbo couldn’t sit still. Yanyan had been up already. The Ye sisters came over to play with the child, each presenting a gift: Qinglan gave a small gold bracelet, Lingbo a peace lock, and Yanyan a gold ingot symbolizing good fortune. Because Acuo was a new guest, she accepted Fu Yunrui’s gift.

The hall immediately grew lively; no one drank the tea. Aunt Huang smiled and urged, “Young Madam Yin, stop playing— the kitchen is waiting to discuss the menu.”

Fu Yunrui was reminded and hurriedly stood. Though kind, her skills were average; she was not adept at managing capital banquets.

“Is Madam seriously ill? Why would she send you to arrange the menu?” Qinglan asked anxiously.

“Sister, don’t worry. Madam’s illness isn’t serious—just a back injury preventing long sitting. She’s resting lying down. I came back to the capital to stay with her, so we can watch over each other. In Yanglin City, we lived the same way—a large courtyard with ten or so families together. Hongxuan and the others went off to war; the women looked after each other, and the children played together like brothers and sisters. Sister, how could you forget? Back then, Lady Wei told us about life on the frontier, and I promised you we’d live together someday,” Fu Yunrui said, holding the child.

Such a thought stirred the heart.

Even Acuo sensed the weight of time in that moment.

Four years ago at the Flower Message Feast, the marriage was set in stone, and the two girls had already envisioned their married life. Yet fate parted them at a crossroads. Now one remained unmarried in the capital, while the other had a three-year-old child.

No wonder the room fell silent.

Lingbo broke the quiet. “Luckily, we have time today. Let’s help Sister Fu with the menu, and Acuo can learn the ways of managing the household.”

She had intended to assist Fu Yunrui but found, unexpectedly, that her efforts bore unintended fruit. Together, they passed through the Wei family courtyard to the small kitchen to review the luncheon menu. On the corridor, they encountered Cui Jingyu accompanied by his deputy.

It was Acuo’s first close look at him without armor, only a common brocade robe in the dark red of the Northern Army. The old battle robe was washed out and loose, designed to appear approachable. Yet no matter how soft the cloth, his presence was cold and formidable. He wore a sword, hand resting on its hilt, broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, standing at the corridor’s end, turning slightly to watch them.

“General Cui comes every morning to pay respects to the marshal,” Fu Yunrui explained for him. “Though he should now be called Marquis Cui, I think he keeps the old master-disciple customs. He’s a bit late today—probably stopped by to check on the young marquis.”

Then she smiled at Cui Jingyu, “Marquis Cui, how is the young marquis? I heard two bones were broken by the rod.”

For a moment, Acuo thought he would not answer—he seemed the man who never spoke to women again.

But he did answer.

“He won’t die.”

His calm delivery of such harsh words was almost amusing.

“That’s good,” Fu Yunrui smiled knowingly, glancing back at Qinglan. She observed Qinglan’s composed expression and was secretly surprised.

“By the way, Madam said a banquet will be held at noon to entertain distinguished guests. Presumably, the marquis will stay behind?” Fu Yunrui, evidently familiar with him from four years together in Yanglin City, asked directly.

“He will,” he replied.

But he did not say whether he agreed to attend.

Taciturn Marquis Cui, after speaking, stepped aside, clearly letting them pass first—much like the delicate etiquette of tea service and sending off guests in the capital. The group understood and moved forward.

Qinglan walked behind Fu Yunrui.

Though in the capital, the Wei residence evidently followed Yanglin City’s customs. The corridor was narrow; passing by, their gowns brushed, their breaths mingled.

Cui Jingyu lowered his eyes, silent. He still kept his old habits, neat and clean. His scent was pine in the snow—rumored to mask the iron scent of blood, yet he seemed untouched by it. Generals often wore a brocade robe over their armor to avoid displaying it and to ward off the winter cold.

Years later, Qinglan still remembered the touch of the iron armor beneath the brocade, like the one time she felt cold, bare iron in winter that nearly froze her fingers.

If only it could pass so quietly.

But Lingbo, walking hastily behind, bumped into Qinglan, causing her to sway and almost fall.

She was immediately caught.

Still the broad palm of old—hands actually quite delicate, fingers slender, though calloused and often bearing fine cuts.

Of course, these hands had once been stained with her rouge and tears.

A gentle touch through the sleeve, both quickly withdrew their hands. Cui Jingyu heard her whisper, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She lowered her eyes, unwilling to look up at him, just as four years ago. He saw her slender neck disappear into a jade-green collar, delicate as a gaunt swan.

“Marquis Cui, will you come to the luncheon?” Lingbo behind her pressed firmly.

Four years ago, he would have smiled.

Yanyan’s innocence, Lingbo’s meticulous schemes—all were adorable as sisters to him. He had once been the elder brother of the entire Ye family, which was why Yanyan now looked at him expectantly.

“We’ll see,” he simply replied.

Lingbo immediately pressed her lips tight; Yanyan showed a disappointed look and wanted to speak to him, but Lingbo pulled her away. Acuo followed, understanding Lingbo wished to spare Qinglan embarrassment, not appear too eager.

Before turning the corridor corner, Acuo couldn’t help but glance back. There, in the aged wooden corridor, Cui Jingyu still stood in his battle robe, like a detached statue.