31 Military General

Actually, Lingbo had left the banquet early; otherwise, she would have known why Cui Jingyu was hosting this feast to celebrate his ennoblement.

The Grand Princess’s banquet was a lively affair. Men and women were seated separately, and operas were being performed in both the inner and outer courtyards. The play being performed was the story of Zhou Yafu at the Xiliu Camp. Halfway through the performance, the imperial decree arrived. It was Cui Jingyu who received the decree. The eunuch’s voice was high and thin as he announced the title granted by the Emperor: while Marshal Wei had been named the Marquis of Pingyuan, Cui Jingyu was named the Marquis of Dingyuan. Their master-disciple relationship was evident to all at a glance. Cui Jingyu knelt to receive the order, gave a reward to the messenger, and was immediately swamped by colleagues and officials offering their congratulations. He was surrounded like stars circling the moon. Even Master Shen, the Marquis of Jing who had been backing the Fire Battalion to counter Cui and Marshal Wei, was forced to put on a smile and offer his regards. Cui Jingyu simply replied with indifference, "Master Shen is too kind."

The news quickly reached the inner courtyard. The Grand Princess immediately issued an order to open a new table to celebrate the new Marquis of Dingyuan and invited the imperial messenger in for tea.

The official circles were full of sharp-witted people; who could fail to understand the Emperor’s intentions? He chose to send the decree precisely while the Grand Princess was hosting her banquet—wasn’t this meant to show his support for her? By doing the Grand Princess this favor, and considering that she had known about Marshal Wei’s title before anyone else, the Emperor’s intent to elevate the Grand Princess was clear for all to see.

The tactful officials already understood how highly the Emperor regarded the Grand Princess. Having her preside over the Flower-Letter Banquet and lead all the noble ladies of the capital was not enough; he wanted every official in the court to see how much he relied on this sister toward whom he felt a sense of guilt.

After returning home that evening, the officials would likely analyze this with their wives, concluding that for the twenty-four Flower-Letter Banquets, they must follow the Grand Princess’s lead.

Cui Jingyu came from a military background, so he was slightly different and not as obvious as the civilian officials. Since the Grand Princess had granted him a seat, he naturally had to go inside to express his gratitude. He followed the messenger in. Inside, they were also performing an opera—a story from the Sui and Tang dynasties, specifically the scene where Dou Xianniang and Luo Cheng meet on the battlefield. When the Princess Consort of Ping saw Cui Jingyu enter, she laughed and teased, "We were just performing Luo Cheng, and here comes the dashing Luo Cheng himself."

In truth, in terms of age and temperament, the young Marquis Wei Yushan was more like Luo Cheng. But Wei Yushan was *too* much like him—cold of heart and tongue. When he had uttered that declaration about not marrying for five years in front of the ladies, the table had gone silent for a full quarter of an hour. The noble ladies were no fools; they immediately shifted their focus to this "Marquis Cui," whom they had previously deemed too arrogant and distant.

As the ladies’ thoughts shifted and they scrutinized Cui Jingyu, their initial thirty percent satisfaction grew to seventy. If Wei Yushan was a young, green sapling, Cui Jingyu was a towering pine; his physique was taller and more imposing, his features more handsome and transcendental. Although his personality was cold and he favored black attire, giving him an aura of sternness, the prestige of being ennobled at such a young age was undeniable. He was young, reliable, and—better than Wei Yushan—he lacked the baggage of the Wei family, where Marshal Wei held power that threatened the throne and Lady Wei had recently caused a scandal. A noble daughter marrying into Cui’s house would not have to worry about serving elders or following strict rules; she would immediately become the mistress of a Marquisate and enjoy a good life with her husband.

In the parlor, the ladies watched the opera. With the stoves burning, candles bright, and silk curtains draped, the scene was one of magnificent prosperity. Yet, as Cui Jingyu ascended the steps to thank the Grand Princess, lifting the hem of his black silk robe, his movements were more than just elegant. When he bowed, like the great generals in the plays, it was like a golden mountain toppling or a jade pillar collapsing. As he leaned forward, he embodied the "ape-backed and wasp-waisted" description from literature. With his broad shoulders and the imperial python robe, the dark golden python on his back seemed to float in a sea of ink-black waves, exuding a daunting majesty. Below that, the narrow waist cinched by his jade-adorned belt—even just his back made the actor on stage look like a clumsy imitation.

The tables were covered in silk, and the carpets were embroidered with phoenix patterns in dark red. Kneeling amidst this splendor, Cui Jingyu looked as stern and sharp as a black sword. Like a tiger entering a garden of flowers, the ladies seemed to realize for the first time that this was a living, breathing man.

"Rise," the Grand Princess said faintly.

Cui Jingyu stood up. He was so tall that the palace lanterns cast long, heavy shadows over him—shadows that were distinctly masculine. The ladies felt as if they had been transported back twenty years, becoming shy, self-conscious maidens once more. They could not tease him like they teased Wei Yushan.

Perhaps because he was a warrior, his mere presence felt intrusive, to say nothing of being caught by his indifferent gaze. He seemed to constantly remind everyone that he was a grown man, just as he made them acutely aware of their own femininity. The ladies felt an inexplicable, delicate sense of self-pity.

Though they could not smell him, they imagined the scent of the frontier’s wind and snow, perhaps mixed with the fragrance of trees—not the refined, processed incense of the capital, but the raw, earthy scent of thick timber freshly wounded, sap bleeding from the wood. Or perhaps it was like a fierce fire, the smell of a whole log burning until the sparks jumped onto one’s face.

The naive young misses, of course, did not understand this feeling; they were likely just afraid of him. The ladies felt a vague sense of regret and worried for him: if he were to marry a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old girl who feared and distanced herself from him, viewing him only as a terrifying soldier, wouldn’t that be a waste of his prime?

The Grand Princess clearly understood this. Years ago, Huo Xuan, the heir to the Duke of England, had also been a famous young general. Which of these ladies hadn’t witnessed his glory? Riding through Chang’an, he had been the very image of elegance and romance, leaving a deep mark on their young hearts.

Thus, the Grand Princess knew how to handle him. She didn’t stand on ceremony, exchanging a few pleasantries before asking about his ennoblement and, "I wonder how the Marquis plans to hold the celebration feast?"

Cui Jingyu was truly cold; his reply to the Grand Princess was even briefer than hers: "There is no one in my manor. I fear it will have to be postponed."

The ladies finally saw their chance, but for some reason, they felt a bit flustered. Even the silver-tongued Princess Consort of Ping did not speak up. It was the elderly Nanny Song who smiled and said, "Marquis, you say that, but the twenty-four Flower-Letter Banquets are precisely meant to solve such problems for you. If you meet a lady from a noble family you admire, you will have a mistress for your manor, and someone to help organize your celebration feast. Don’t you agree, ladies?"

The ladies naturally chimed in, but except for the older ones, they were inexplicably flustered, lacking the composure they had when mocking Wei Yushan.

His gaze was too cold, and the dangerous aura he carried was too thick. His pupils were deep black. The moment a lady began to speak, he would look over quietly, like a giant wolf watching from behind a veil of snow. Who could remain calm?

At twenty-four, he was technically the age of their nephews...

The ladies hesitated. The Princess Consort of Ping, ever the leader, despite being only in her early thirties—the niece of the current Empress and married twelve years ago to the heir of the Prince of Ping—was in her prime. Although she was not hosting the Flower-Letter Banquet, she remained very active.

She smiled, "Exactly. Nanny is right. As for the Marquis’s lifelong affairs, we ladies must lend a hand. May I ask what kind of lady the Marquis prefers?"

The ladies followed suit, with remarks like, "Indeed, how can a Marquis’s manor be without a mistress?" "The Marquis is twenty-four this year, why isn’t he settled yet?" or "While serving the country is important, one must not neglect personal matters. Now that you are a Marquis, it is the perfect time to get engaged—a double blessing indeed..."

He had arrived so suddenly that the young misses had not yet retreated behind the curtains. They were sitting behind the ladies, gathered around small circular tables near the heaters, snacking on pea flour cakes and walnut pastries. They looked like little silk dolls, eyes lowered and demure, though no one knew what turbulent thoughts lay beneath.

Cui Jingyu glanced at them lightly. His gaze was like a sliver of cold wind leaking through a curtain on a winter day—even the most perceptive lady didn't notice it.

He neither agreed nor disagreed, simply saying, "How could I trouble you ladies?"

He was a man of few words, but there was an appeal to that. Unlike their own husbands, who droned on and on, speaking for half an hour about trivial court matters, he was a pleasure to simply look at. He was like the glass pagoda at the Imperial Temple—even if you had no connection to it, seeing it from afar made one feel brightened.

As the ladies began to recover their composure and offered lighthearted jokes, asking his birth month or what he looked for in a young woman, Cui Jingyu answered briefly. His reserve only made them more curious. Just as the atmosphere grew lively, a group of young girls ran in.

Although it was common for girls of fourteen or fifteen to be betrothed, noble families in the capital cherished their daughters and often kept them home until they were seventeen or eighteen, looking for matches only then at the Flower-Letter Banquets. This was for the daughter's sake; if a betrothal was made too early and the groom met with misfortune, it would be difficult for the daughter to find another path.

Thus, the young girls of the capital’s noble families were often more innocent and carefree than those of common folk. For some reason, the group was led by Yan Yan, the youngest daughter of the Ye family. Yan Yan was beautiful and cute, with an honest, blessed appearance that the older ladies adored. Only because the eldest daughter of the Ye family remained unmarried were they hesitant; otherwise, several ladies had already considered trying to secure a betrothal for her.

The group of fourteen- and fifteen-year-old girls were Yan Yan’s friends. With the Flower-Letter Banquet in full swing, the older girls of seventeen or eighteen were caught up in the undercurrents of the social scene, but these younger ones were happy to play like children. Since this year was the battlefield for the older girls, it was not their turn yet.

While the ladies and misses inside the Grand Princess’s mansion were listening to opera, drinking tea, and eating snacks, these girls had been playing in the snow in the courtyard. They ran back in, faces flushed red, chirping like birds. Among them were Guo Yuenü and Ni Shuangshuang, who were close to Yan Yan, but it was Tao Li’er who was the boldest. Her grandfather had been the tutor to the Emperor when he was the Crown Prince, and her family was highly respected. She had attended palace banquets since she was small and feared nothing. As the girls ran in, laughing and shaking snow from their capes, they bumped into Cui Jingyu, who was standing in the hall responding to the ladies. Tao Li’er took the lead; unafraid, she glanced at him, then returned to the group of girls and whispered to Wei Leshui, urging, "You go and ask him."

Only then did everyone notice that Wei Leshui was among the girls. Urged by Tao Li’er, she came forward with a blushing face and said to Cui Jingyu, "Brother Jingyu, could you teach us how to roll a snowball? Ours never come out round."

At these words, the ladies laughed, and Cui Jingyu smiled too, saying, "Alright, I will take you to roll a round one."

His smile was like ice melting in the spring sun. Seeing his tall figure surrounded by a group of girls made hearts melt. But the ladies were wary—was Lady Wei trying to marry Wei Leshui to Cui Jingyu? They weren't too worried, though; the Emperor would never allow a marriage between two powerful Marquisates, especially when he was trying to dismantle the power of the Northern Army.

However, Cui Jingyu was quite kind to Wei Leshui, actually taking the girls into the courtyard to teach them how to roll snowballs, explaining that they couldn't just push from one side, but had to roll evenly, or it would end up like a cylinder. The snow in the courtyard was thin, and as they rolled, they ran out of snow. Just as the girls were debating what to do, Cui Jingyu kicked a nearby cypress tree, causing a shower of snow to fall down.

"Oh! I’m going to tell the Princess that the Marquis is being rude, kicking the trees in her mansion," Lu Wenyin said with a smile.

She had arrived with Lu Wanyang at some point. The cypress leaves were fine, and the snow continued to fall like catkins in the air. Lu Wanyang held her hands in a white fox-fur muff. She wore a bright red feathered silk cloak with white fox fur trim, which made her face look like fine jade. With her eyes lowered, a hint of rouge at the corners, and her hair like clouds, she looked elegant and refined, like a fairy in the snow.

Cui Jingyu simply folded his arms and said coolly, "Young Mistress Chen, you jest."

"I hear the Northern Frontier is bitterly cold, with snow blocking the mountains for three months at a time..." Lu Wanyang said softly. She was very slender, and standing beside Cui Jingyu’s tall figure in his black silk robe, it looked exactly like a first meeting in an opera.

But unluckily, one of the girls in the group was running backward while playing with a friend and bumped right into Cui Jingyu, interrupting the moment.