Drifting Clouds (Part One)

As the weather gradually warmed, the courtyard brimmed with the breath of spring. March was always the month when spring’s presence was most vibrant—willows swayed gently, myriad flowers bloomed, new trees unfurled their verdant shoots, and flocks of birds sang in choruses. Yet this spring was shrouded in a faint heaviness by the Emperor’s passing; for a hundred days, celebrations and marriages were forbidden throughout the land, and in the capital—seat of the imperial court—such prohibitions were observed with particular rigor. Even so, Ye Qianran was keenly aware that lately, the number of visitors to their household had increased markedly. Most were nobles and high officials. It made sense—this was a moment of political transition, and her father, ranked foremost among the capital’s four great merchants, had naturally become the object of their attentions.

Historically, merchants had always ranked low in social standing. During the Qin and Han dynasties, they were forbidden to wear silk; in the Sui and Tang, they could not enter officialdom. Only in the Song did things begin to improve, though not dramatically. It was not until the founding of the Yuan Empire, when Emperor Taizu Liu Ao abolished the policy of privileging agriculture over commerce and encouraged the free development of merchants—allowing them even to become officials—that their status truly rose. Merchants gradually formed a political force of their own and stepped onto history’s stage. During his reign, Taizu had summoned the capital’s four great merchants many times. Once, in conversation, he had sighed, “Though I rule over the highest in the land, among the wealthy, there are none beyond these four.”

Thus, it was not surprising that the nobles and ministers now attached such importance to Ye Yuandao’s influence in the capital.

Ye Qianran had heard her father mention the various nobles and ministers who had visited in recent days. She knew they belonged to two opposing camps: one aligned with the new emperor, the other with the princes of the realm. To prevent his sons from vying for the crown, Emperor Taizu had, in the first year of Baokang, appointed his eldest legitimate son, Liu Wen, as crown prince. Alas, the crown prince died young. In his grief, Taizu named Liu Wen’s son, Liu Xi, as imperial grandson. After Taizu’s death, the imperial grandson ascended as Emperor Yongqian. During his life, Taizu had installed his adult sons as princes over various territories to safeguard the realm. These princes held military power and governed their own lands. Excluding the late crown prince Liu Wen, the second son Zhenyu, the third son Ziji, and the exiled eighth son Liu Di, there were nine princes. Taking advantage of the journey to the capital for the funeral, the princes sought to win over officials, consolidating their power. Of all these princes, the most powerful was Prince Liu Heng, who commanded the three provinces of Yunnan, Guizhou, and Sichuan and had been the late Emperor’s favored prince.

Seizing this rare opportunity, Ye Qianran saw many legendary figures she had only heard of before. Naturally, she could not join them in their discussions of state and power. But after much pleading, Ye Yuandao permitted her to listen from an adjoining chamber—a delight for Ye Qianran, who found the idle days of her boudoir unendurably dull and used such diversions to pass the time.

She overheard conversations she was not meant to hear and saw some very peculiar people. For instance, the so-called “free-spirited” Fourth Prince was in truth a lout with a crooked mouth and slanted eyes, his head large as an almond; the “elegant and charming” Ninth Prince was actually a stammerer. The new emperor’s tutor, Grand Academician Zhu Tai—renowned as a scholar of vast learning—was a diminutive, wiry old man whose beard bobbed up and down when he spoke, making him look like a goat. To Ye Qianran, he seemed less like a high-ranking official than an old schoolmaster. His speech was always laced with classical quotations, each word measured, with a hint of pedantry.

Ye Yuandao would burst out laughing at her assessments of these people, his day’s worries swept away, and never scolded her—only reminded her that such remarks should be kept within the household and never repeated elsewhere.

Ye Qianran understood well enough and nodded in agreement.

One afternoon, with nothing to do, Ye Qianran took Juanbi and strolled through the rear garden. It was now April. The days were growing warmer, the sun hung lazily in the sky, as if drowsy from the gentle heat in the air. Clad in a pale blue, form-fitting silk robe and a pleated skirt, Ye Qianran walked along the granite-paved path, each step light as a lotus. A breeze stirred, lifting her skirts and the ribbons at her waist. She narrowed her eyes, savoring the garden’s profusion of blossoms. Famous flowers scented the breeze, fine trees flourished, fountains sprayed, and the lake shimmered with jade-green ripples. Birds sang among the willows, and the air was thick with fragrance, sweet to the very lungs. In the distance, the waterside pavilion on Mingde Lake glinted gold under the sun, its vermillion railings dazzling the eye. There, Ye An, dressed in moon-white informal robes embroidered with elegant bamboo leaves, sat quietly, brows deeply furrowed, lost in thought.

Ye Qianran crossed the small bridge to the lakeside pavilion. The stream murmured beneath, and a breeze ruffled the water into ripples. Ye An did not notice her approach until she stood before him, casting a shadow across his gaze. He looked up, displeased, only to see her right in front of him.

He started so violently he nearly lost his balance, exclaiming, “You walk like a ghost—silently! You scared me to death!”

Ye Qianran shot him a disdainful look and sat down across from him. “If that’s enough to frighten you to death, aren’t you a bit too faint-hearted?”

A faint smile played on Ye An’s lips. “What, you’ve only been back from Jiangnan a few days, and already you’re complaining your brother’s too timid?” It was meant as a joke, a bit of banter.

To his surprise, Ye Qianran nodded in all seriousness, uttering a soft “Mm.”

Ye An was momentarily taken aback, then laughed helplessly. Fondly, he reached out to tousle the hair on her forehead, his affection plain to see.

Ye Qianran only glanced at the book on the stone table. “Brother, what are you reading that’s got you so absorbed?”

Ye An nodded, lifting the book. “Brother Zhuge sent me a chess manual the other day. I was just leafing through it to pass the time.”

When Ye Qianran heard her brother mention Zhuge Liuyun, her heart skipped a beat, as if he had appeared before her. Realizing her own reaction, she could not help but laugh at herself for being so foolishly sentimental.

Ye An noticed her odd expression, as if he had discovered something, and began to chuckle.

Ye Qianran, knowing she had given herself away and was now the butt of her brother’s teasing, nevertheless put on a solemn face and asked, “Brother, what are you laughing at?”

Ye An finally managed to stop laughing and said, “I’m laughing at someone who longs for love in her maiden’s chamber but won’t admit it.”

At this, Ye Qianran grew flustered and leapt up to strike him. Ye An fled at once, and she, now truly annoyed, gave chase without a thought for ladylike composure, determined to catch her brother and vent her indignation.

The wind stirred a flurry of blossoms throughout the courtyard; petals drifted down, swirling in the breeze. Ye Qianran was never one to admit defeat—she would not rest until she caught Ye An. He, for his part, would not let her succeed. Juanbi, worried that Ye Qianran might stumble, hurried after her. The rear garden became a scene of lively chaos: two slender young women chasing a tall young man, ornaments jingling, skirts flying, petals floating through their hair and settling quietly at their feet. Ye Qianran’s cheeks flushed, fine beads of sweat glimmered on the tip of her nose, and her chest rose and fell as she panted, clearly tired but unwilling to yield. Ye An, taunting from ahead, called, “Come on, catch me if you can! I knew you wouldn’t be able to!”

Pausing to catch her breath with Juanbi’s help, Ye Qianran wiped her brow with a handkerchief, pointed at Ye An with a trembling finger, and said, her words uneven from exertion, “If you’re so capable, stop running!”

“If you’re so capable, stop chasing me!” Ye An stuck out his tongue at her. Though he had already passed the age of maturity and was dignified before their parents, when it came to play, he was still a boy at heart, always set on teasing Ye Qianran.

Biting her lip, Ye Qianran tossed her handkerchief to Juanbi. Seizing the moment when Ye An was basking in triumph, she suddenly rushed at him—but her foot landed on a stray pebble on the flagstone path, and she lost her balance, tilting backward as the world spun around her. Ye Qianran cried out inwardly; this time she was certain she would fall and injure herself badly. Ye An, seeing what was happening from afar, was too late to help. Yet the expected pain never came. Instead, a graceful figure caught her around the waist, and a gentle sigh sounded at her ear, “Every time we meet, you’re in danger. I wonder what will happen next time?”

Ye Qianran’s tightly shut eyes fluttered open, and she found herself looking into a pair of clear eyes, limpid as an autumn lake. The young general held her around the waist, their faces so close she could see the delicate sunlight dancing in his brows.

“Th… thank you, sir,” she said, steadying herself, breathless and still shaken.

Zhuge Liuyun smiled warmly and released her gently.

Juanbi, standing by, was already dumbfounded. Ye An came running over with a laugh.

“Brother Zhuge is truly Qianran’s guardian angel—always saving her at the crucial moment.” As he spoke, Ye An shot a meaningful glance at Ye Qianran.

Her cheeks colored, but she could not resist retorting, “If I had to rely on you, brother, I would have been flattened long ago!”

Ye An placed a hand on Zhuge Liuyun’s shoulder and sighed with mock regret, “See? She’s not married yet and already dislikes her brother. When she finally weds, she’ll forget me completely, I’m sure.”

Zhuge Liuyun only smiled again.

Ye Qianran, embarrassed by her brother’s teasing in Zhuge Liuyun’s presence, could only swallow her annoyance and say, “With a brother so kind, how could I ever forget him?” She deliberately stressed the last words to show her displeasure.

But Ye An laughed even harder.

In her heart, Ye Qianran did not know how many times she had strangled him already.

She avoided looking at Zhuge Liuyun, yet she could feel his gaze upon her, warm and gentle. Ye Qianran told herself it was not affection she felt, only gratitude for having been saved by him. She did not believe in love at first sight, as described in ancient poetry. She considered herself too rational to fall for someone without truly knowing them, so this could not possibly be love.

Yet she heard not a word of the conversation between Ye An and Zhuge Liuyun.

It was only when Ye An tapped her shoulder that she returned to herself.

“What did you say, brother?”

Ye An shook his head and sighed to Zhuge Liuyun, “She must have been frightened out of her wits.”

Zhuge Liuyun smiled mischievously, “In that case, the young men of the capital will have much cause for grief.”

“Oh? How so?” Ye An asked with interest.

Ye Qianran understood the implication and shot him a glare. “When did you learn to be as glib as my brother, sir?”

At that, Zhuge Liuyun and Ye An burst into laughter.

Overhead, birds soared across the sky, azure and cloudless, while fish glided through the jade-green waters of the lake. The wind carried the scent of fresh grass. It was the first time Ye Qianran had seen him laugh so freely, without reservation. She gazed at him, a faint, uncertain flutter awakening in her chest.

She had seen him smile before, but never had his smile reached his eyes; it had always lingered on the surface, with a distant, aloof air.