Paying respects to the Duke of Weiguo's Residence

In the early days of the founding of the empire, Emperor Liu Ao, the Grand Ancestor, bestowed seven hereditary dukedoms upon those who had aided him in establishing his rule. Yet as the empire matured, these dukes—some whose merit overshadowed their sovereign, others grown arrogant and unruly, and still others lost to age, illness, or death—dwindled in number. By the first year of Yongqian, only Duke Zhang Jue of Wei remained. Now sixty-three, the Duke carried the scars and ailments left by years of warfare in his youth; his health faded by the day, but he remained the most respected elder of the new emperor, Liu Xi.

Zhang Jue had two sons. The elder, Zhang Yuan, was heir to the dukedom. Zhang Yuan had a son and a daughter; his son had married the emperor’s sister, Princess Wenchang, while his daughter wed Prince Ming, Liu Xi’s uncle. The younger son, Zhang Jing, was a key figure in Liu Xi’s council for the reduction of the princely powers, and had two sons and a daughter, all yet unmarried. The Zhangs were the favored family in the capital, basking in glory and honor.

The third day of the seventh month marked Zhang Jue’s sixty-fourth birthday. Ministers and officials flocked to his residence to offer their congratulations; the four wealthiest merchants of the city arrived in turn, and the Duke of Wei’s mansion was thronged with visitors, carriages streaming in like rivers.

That day, Ye An helped Ye Yuandao onto the carriage. He prepared to mount his horse when he caught sight of Ye Qianran, dressed as a young servant, lingering beside the rear carriage. He pulled her aside, lowered his voice, and asked, “What are you doing here?”

Ye Qianran leaned in, her tone conspiratorial: “I heard the emperor will attend the Duke’s birthday. I want to catch a glimpse.”

“No,” Ye An refused her firmly. “Such occasions are a mix of all sorts—you mustn’t go.”

“Brother,” Ye Qianran looked at him with pleading eyes, her demeanor delicate and pitiable. “I promise to behave and stay by your side every moment, alright? Please?” She gazed at him, her eyes full of supplication.

Ye An was about to protest further, but she interrupted, tugging at his sleeve and begging in earnest, “Brother, I’m begging you, please?”

Looking at his adorable sister, Ye An could only rub his forehead in resignation. Under her gaze, he nodded. “But,” he said sternly, “you must not wander off. Otherwise, I won’t know how to explain things to Father.”

Ye Qianran bowed theatrically. “Yes, sir. I’ll take good care of myself.”

Ye An shook his head with a smile and instructed the nearby servant, “Watch over Miss carefully.” Then he mounted his horse, and the carriages set forth.

When their carriage arrived at the Duke’s mansion, Ye Qianran kept her head down, following the servant carrying the birthday gifts. At the gate, servants and stewards greeted guests, and Zhang Yuan and Zhang Jing stood welcoming visitors. Seeing Ye Yuandao, they broke into smiles and greeted him warmly, exchanging courteous words. Ye An signaled the servant to present the gifts and motioned for Ye Qianran to stay close. Led by the steward, the trio entered the mansion.

Only then did Ye Qianran lift her gaze. Everywhere she looked, beneath flowered trellises and among verdant trees, guests gathered to celebrate. Long red lacquered tables flanked the passageways, laden with fruits and delicacies. Sunlight filtered through leaves, casting a crystalline glow on the fresh produce. Festive red decorations adorned the courtyard, and guests mingled in small groups, exchanging greetings: “Ah, isn’t that Lord Li?” “So it’s Lord Liu—long time no see!” “Merchant Shang, please come in.” “General Zuo has won yet another victory—how wonderful!” “This is my son…” The air brimmed with cheerful voices.

Ye Qianran glanced curiously at the crowd, her gaze wandering until it settled on a refined figure. Zhuge Liuyun stood with his back to her, engaged in conversation. Ye Qianran recognized him instantly; his posture was as upright as ever. Though she could not see his face, she could picture every expression: the way his brows knit, then relaxed into a subtle smile, the hint of distance in his eyes, the curve of his lips—she knew it all, as if he were standing before her. She watched him intently.

She had come today because she knew he would be here. Although, since that night, Ye Qianran had tried to keep him from her thoughts, longing grew like wild grass—the more she restrained it, the stronger it became, spreading through her heart, thick and choking, leaving her restless and unable to escape. Upon learning he would attend, she could not bring herself to remain at home.

The surrounding bustle faded, shadows and movement receding. Her eyes saw only that figure in white, distant beneath the green trees, beneath a sky of flawless blue. Amidst so many people, she watched him quietly, as if all was peaceful and time itself gentle.

When she finally came to herself, Zhuge Qingfeng was already standing silently before her. She turned slightly, avoiding him, her gaze passing through him, fixed on Zhuge Liuyun in the distance.

Zhuge Qingfeng looked amused; he tapped her shoulder, trying to draw her back to the present. Ye Qianran shot him an annoyed glare, then turned and walked off. Zhuge Qingfeng followed, step for step. With everyone busy exchanging greetings and forging connections, no one noticed the two of them.

Ye Qianran had no idea how many twists and turns she had taken to reach this place. Here, there was none of the clamor of the halls and courtyards; green trees swayed beside the corridor, the scent of lotus filled the air. Ye Qianran suddenly stopped. Zhuge Qingfeng, caught off guard, almost bumped into her, but managed to steady himself, exhaling deeply. He looked at Ye Qianran—her features clear, dressed in coarse servant’s garb—and smiled. He looked her up and down, feigning ignorance. “Why are you here?”

Ye Qianran’s eyes flashed. “Guess.”

“I suppose… You wouldn’t be here because of a certain someone, would you?” Zhuge Liuyun stroked his chin, pretending to be mystified.

Ye Qianran, who had been a bit smug, instantly deflated, glared at him, and strode down the corridor toward the depths of the garden. Zhuge Qingfeng laughed heartily and hurried after her.

The Duke’s courtyard was shaded by ancient trees, pavilions and towers rising among jagged rocks. Ye Qianran stopped before a cluster of artificial stones, about to ask him why he kept following her, when he made a silencing gesture and pressed her close against the rocks. She frowned, annoyed, about to protest, when from the other side of the stones came the faint voice of a middle-aged man: “What else did His Highness say?” It was Zhang Jing, the Duke’s second son.

“Before leaving, His Highness asked me to relay a message to you: If our plans succeed, after the Duke passes, the title will be yours, hereditary and unbroken.”

“Good. That’s exactly the promise I wanted from His Highness. Please assure him I will do my utmost to buy as much time as possible, giving him ample opportunity to prepare.”

Ye Qianran looked up at Zhuge Qingfeng, puzzled. He signaled her to keep silent.

Just then, Zhang Jing’s personal steward arrived to summon him. The two men parted hurriedly, and the man who had spoken with Zhang Jing, seeing no one nearby, walked off in the opposite direction.

Zhuge Qingfeng released Ye Qianran, who let out a deep breath and asked, “I didn’t quite catch what they meant—what are they talking about?”

Zhuge Qingfeng tapped her head, smiling. “Of course you didn’t understand—what do women know of politics?”

Ye Qianran pouted in displeasure. “Don’t underestimate me. I do understand what they meant; I’m just confused about their relationship.”

“Oh? What are you curious about? Tell me, perhaps I can clear things up for you.” Zhuge Qingfeng raised his eyebrows.

Ye Qianran glanced at him, her tone softening. “I’ve heard Father and Brother talk about the Duke of Wei. In the matter of reducing the powers of the princes, they always advocate starting with the Sixth Prince. But from this conversation, it sounds like Zhang Jing is allied with the Sixth Prince?”

Zhuge Qingfeng smiled and turned to walk away, his voice drifting back. “You only know part of the story. Zhang Jing and his brother Zhang Yuan have been at odds for years. Both are officials, but their political views diverge. Take this reduction of princely powers: Zhang Yuan wants to start with the Sixth Prince, Liu Heng, who holds the greatest influence among the princes—a move to set an example. But Zhang Jing disagrees; he believes Liu Heng is respected in the southwest and has committed no crimes, so there’s no legitimate cause. Their debates rage in court, to the point even the emperor is unsure whom to heed, for both arguments have merit.”

“I suspect the Sixth Prince is exploiting their rivalry, winning Zhang Jing to his side to help him delay matters in court.”

Ye Qianran looked around to ensure privacy before lowering her voice. “So you’re saying if the court moves against the princes, the Sixth Prince will raise a rebellion?”

“Rebellion? That seems unlikely. The cost is too great. If his powers are curtailed, he loses his command but retains his title and privileges. Should he rebel, there’s no turning back. Failure would leave him branded a traitor for generations—not worth the risk. I believe the Sixth Prince’s aim is to delay the reduction, seek a solution, and preserve his military authority.”

“Is that so?” Ye Qianran asked skeptically. “If I were him, I’d fight regardless. Think about it—a man commanding troops since eighteen, for more than a decade, suddenly stripped of his power. It’s unbearably cruel. Especially when the one taking his authority is his nephew. How could he resign himself to that?”

Zhuge Qingfeng laughed, amused by her earnestness. “I didn’t expect you to know so much. One might mistake you for a seasoned court official.”

Ye Qianran lifted her chin with pride. “If I were a man, I’d surely be a brilliant young minister.” She paused, casting him a sidelong glance. “Unlike certain people who spend their days roaming mountains and rivers, neglecting proper duties,” she said, drawing out her words with disdain.

Zhuge Qingfeng’s smile froze; his eyes darkened, hinting at anger. He reached out to seize her, but Ye Qianran was quicker, dodging away. As she reveled in her own cleverness, she glanced back at Zhuge Qingfeng, stunned. She hadn’t seen him move, but he was suddenly right before her—an uncanny thing. He laughed quietly. “You surely don’t know that, among the three of us, my martial skills are the strongest.”