Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"...Whispers are circulating in the capital about a marriage alliance between the Shao and Du families, but Second Uncle has deliberately kept us in the dark, awaiting the imperial decree for the Mid-Autumn Festival in ten days."

As Ruan Gong finished speaking, Qiu Lin’s hands clenched into tight fists.

"Has Second Uncle lost his mind? For years, the young lady has managed the ancestral affairs in Qingzhou, consistently sending generous sums to Second Uncle. When he received the money, he never once inquired about her well-being. Now that the Shao family has come knocking, he presumes to arrange her marriage without even consulting her!..."

Qiu Lin’s indignant voice, illuminated by the swaying lantern, dissolved into the thin moonlight.

Du Lingjing gazed up at the night sky, where a rare glimpse of the moon peeked through layers of clouds, its light tracing the undulating Yanshan Mountains—a unique beauty of the capital, unseen in Qingzhou.

She had spent eight years in the capital with her father, essentially growing up there.

When she first returned to Qingzhou to observe the mourning period for her grandfather, she often yearned for this childhood haven, wondering when she could return.

But gradually, through court gazettes, letters from old friends, and her father’s accounts, she learned that the capital had changed dramatically, with many people coming and going.

The new policies her father had implemented as a Grand Secretary were abandoned and quietly dismantled after he left the capital. Those familiar faces in the capital had departed, and even the few who remained were no longer the same.

The capital no longer seemed like the place she once knew.

Later, when her father’s mourning period ended and he prepared to return to the capital to resume his post, she, after much thought, said to him, "Father, the quiet abandonment of your past policies suggests the new emperor does not value them—perhaps even disapproves. If so, returning to the capital may not allow you to realize your ambitions as you did under the late emperor. In my opinion, Grandfather’s choice to resign and return home to pursue scholarship may have been the wiser path."

Instead of sighing, her father laughed at her words.

"My child, you speak so frankly, already declaring that your father is destined for frustration?"

With her father, she had no need to hold back.

"Does Father not think the same?"

She wasn’t being overly pessimistic—she was merely stating facts. Her father nodded with a smile.

"You’re not wrong. The current emperor indeed does not approve of the policies I once implemented. But scholars who devote themselves to study and serve as officials—do they do so solely for the emperor’s favor? I believe that heaven's way is constant: it does not exist for the sake of Yao, nor does it perish because of Jie. What we scholars and officials seek is captured in those four lines of the Song dynasty."

Those four lines.

To establish the heart of heaven and earth, to secure the lives of the people, to continue the lost teachings of past sages, and to open the way for eternal peace.

Du Lingjing remained silent then.

Her father was right—those four lines were a scholar's aspiration. But without the emperor’s favor, how could one ever reach them?

Her father patted her shoulder.

"Even without approval, we must act. Even if progress seems impossible, we must push forward. Even if nine out of ten outcomes align with your predictions, isn’t there still that one in ten?"

Her father was always like this—willing to defy convention.

She could only prepare his luggage for him. Her father asked her to remain in their ancestral home to manage Mianlou. "You prefer tranquility, my child. There’s no need for you to go to the capital." With that, he set off alone on the road back to the capital.

Yet she never imagined that her father would never reach the capital—he perished on the journey there...

After that, she never yearned for the city again.

This hotbed of power struggles and strife—who would willingly step into it, aside from those who thrived on such intrigues, or men like her father, who walked knowingly into danger?

She had traveled all the way to the gates of the capital, collecting eight volumes of Song dynasty texts along the way, fully intending to stop there. But just outside the city walls, she learned of her own "joyous occasion" in ten days.

Strangely, she couldn’t shake the feeling that an unseen hand had seized her, dragging her inexorably into the capital...

"Young lady? Young lady, why are you lost in thought? Second Uncle is about to marry you off as someone’s second wife!" Qiu Lin’s impatience flared up.

Ruan Gong said the matter wasn’t yet settled, "But if Second Uncle sends the name card to the Imperial Clan Court early, it’ll be hard to undo."

Both of them looked at her.

Du Lingjing lowered her gaze, then slowly raised it again.

"Then we shall enter the capital."

*

They entered the city through the Chaoyang Gate in the east. The morning capital was waking, treading over the remnants of yesterday’s rain as the streets gradually filled with people.

Du Lingjing’s party had entered the city as soon as the gates opened. Just as they turned from Chaoyangmen Avenue onto Chongwenmen Inner Street, they encountered a crowd surrounding an official in scarlet court robes.

He stood out in the crowd like a crane, likely having just left court. People bowed and greeted him, softly inquiring about the day’s court affairs.

The man’s deep voice was lost in the crowd.

Du Lingjing’s gaze barely glanced at the edge of the carriage window before she instructed Chang Pu, who was driving, to avoid the nobleman and take Dengshi Road instead, then turn into the alleyways of Chengqing Lane.

As the carriage changed course, someone on the roadside muttered in confusion, "Why is that marquis coming to the eastern city after court this morning? How most unusual."

The speaker failed to specify which marquis, and the carriage’s wheels didn’t pause as they rolled away.

On the increasingly bustling road, the man in scarlet court robes bearing qilin embroidery spoke a few quiet words before taking leave of the crowd and mounting his horse.

His gaze swept past the alley entrance, resting briefly on the fluttering carriage curtain.

*

Du Residence, Chengqing Lane.

Du Zhiqi retrieved the name card he had prepared the previous night from his outer study. He had spent a long time considering the wording for this document to be submitted to the Imperial Clan Court.

After breakfast, he took the name card and made ready to depart. Du Runqing came to see him off at the gate.

Before the servant could even step forward to call for the gatekeeper, the elderly gatekeeper, trembling with age, hurried out and opened the gate ahead of time.

This old gatekeeper had served at the Du residence in Chengqing Lane since the elder master’s official days, witnessing firsthand how the eldest master, Du Zhili, rose from an ordinary official to Grand Secretary in just a few years. After the eldest master returned home to observing mourning, the Du residence in Chengqing Lane remained empty for years, until the Second Madam came to the capital last year to recuperate from her injuries.

The old gatekeeper was well advanced in years. The last time Du Zhiqi returned home, he had to knock for a long time before the gatekeeper heard him. Displeased, Du Zhiqi had grumbled, and Du Runqing remarked that the old man was half-deaf and half-blind—once this joyous occasion was settled and they had spare hands, they would send him off to a country estate.

But today, for reasons unknown, before father and daughter could approach, the old gatekeeper hastily opened the gate.

Yet instead of turning to invite Second Uncle in, the gatekeeper stepped out, supporting himself against the creaking old gate.

His aged voice was unusually urgent.

"Young lady? Is the young lady back?"

The term made Du Runqing pause—she was already inside the gate.

But the next moment, a voice as clear as a spring sounded from beyond the gate as someone stepped forward to steady the elderly gatekeeper.

"Uncle Wen, it’s me. I’ve returned."

The gate creaked fully open. The newcomer stood at the threshold, wrapped in a cloak of pale bamboo-green, its ribbons fluttering like dancing butterflies in the morning breeze. She steadied the elderly Uncle Wen, who clasped her hand with trembling fingers.

"Young Miss... you're back in the capital at last!"

Du Lingjing’s eyes pricked with tears at the greeting.

When she left the capital, Uncle Wen had still been strong enough to lift her trunks into the carriage and assured her that once the mourning period ended, she would return with her father. "Miss has never left the capital for so long—how will you adjust?"

Nine years had flown by. Uncle Wen was now so frail his hunched back could no longer straighten, and her father had long since departed from them.

She brushed away a tear and helped the trembling Uncle Wen toward the grand gate. Lifting her gaze slightly, she saw the figures standing inside.

Her brows arched delicately, her gaze as serene as still water. She looked up at them.

"Uncle, Second Sister. It has been many years—I hope you have both been well?"

Du Zhiqi and Du Runqing stood frozen in place.

Du Zhiqi avoided meeting his niece’s gaze, clasping his hands behind his back, while Du Runqing stole a few glances at this unfamiliar elder sister.

Her elder sister stood tall and poised, clad in a bamboo-moon cloak over a shadow-blue jacket and moon-white skirt. She stood on the rain-washed stone slabs, as though she’d emerged from mist and river—pure and untouched, save for the faint scent of books drifting from her sleeves.

Du Runqing stared, momentarily spellbound until Du Lingjing stepped forward to greet Du Zhiqi. Only then did she hurriedly return the courtesy.

Ruan Gong and Qiu Lin brought over the festival gifts they had prepared. No one mentioned anything else, and Du Runqing quickly called for tea before personally guiding Du Lingjing into the hall.

No one knew this estate’s layout better than Du Lingjing. She did not need guidance, but seeing her younger sister after so many years—now grown from a girl still growing into her frame into a graceful young woman with a refined face, bearing the Gu family’s striking, sharp-witted beauty—she remarked,

"Second Sister has grown so much, her features had matured, her poise more refined."

Du Lingjing’s praise made Du Runqing tense, at a loss for words, until Du Lingjing continued,

"There’s no need to guide me, Second Sister. I have some matters I’d like to discuss first with Uncle in his study."

With that, she fixed her gaze on Du Zhiqi.

Any lingering hope between father and daughter now shattered.

Du Runqing stiffened, looking at her father, while Du Zhiqi spoke with a grim expression,

"Then let’s go to the study."

...

The study’s open windows let the smell of books escape, leaving only a hollow silence behind.

Du Lingjing cut straight to the point.

"I’ve heard Uncle has arranged a prestigious match for me. I appreciate the thought. But a rising star like the Tanhua could marry any noble daughter—why suddenly pursue the Du family?"

Seeing his niece’s reluctance, Du Zhiqi suppressed his irritation.

"Though there are many noble daughters in the capital, Shao is looking for a second marriage. The Du family’s status fits, and your age aligns perfectly with his. Isn’t this an excellent match?"

Shao Boju was twenty-four this year, just a year older than her—indeed a suitable age. But among high-ranking officials, gaps of ten or twenty years for second marriages were common; age hardly mattered.

Du Lingjing saw her uncle evading the heart of the matter, still hoping to gloss over it.

She gave a faint, dismissive shake of her head. "I don’t consider it an excellent match. Qian Yun and I have been pledged for years. How could I be a suitable match for another? Second Sister, however, will soon come of age—why not arrange her marriage to the Shao family instead?"

This struck a nerve in Du Zhiqi, and his frustration spilled over.

He had broached the idea with the Shao family, but they insisted on the Grand Secretary’s only daughter. If his Runqing had been eligible, would he be pinning hopes on his niece?

His face hardened; the charade was over.

"Your father rose to the rank of Grand Secretary. The Shaos have their own agenda in picking you."

He turned away, hoping his niece would yield without further questions.

Yet she pressed on, "But has Uncle considered why the Shao family seeks my father’s name?"

"Why?" Du Zhiqi grew even angrier. "You studied under your father for years—how can you be so blind?"

He snapped, "Shao Boju is Prince Yong’s cousin. As the eldest prince, Prince Yong needs the backing of the civil officials to secure the Eastern Palace. Though he already has Grand Secretary Dou’s backing, wedding you would pull your father’s old allies into his camp."

He glared at her.

"If you’re too dense to understand, just do as you’re told! I would never harm you!"

His words startled Ruan Gong and Qiu Lin waiting outside. Qiu Lin’s hands balled; Ruan Gong tensed to burst in.

Inside the study, Du Lingjing didn’t flinch.

She topped up Du Zhiqi’s tea first, then poured half a cup for herself. A sip, then the cup clinked softly as she spoke—yet her words made Du Zhiqi’s hand tremble.

"Since Uncle understands the Shao family seeks to bolster Prince Yong’s faction, has he considered how many of Father’s supporters remain after six years? The Du family’s influence is minimal compared to Grand Secretary Dou’s. Yet this marriage gambles our whole family on Prince Yong."

She paused, meeting her uncle’s gaze.

"If Prince Yong loses the fight for the Eastern Palace, and Prince Hui—Noble Consort Lu’s son—ascends instead, where does that leave you? Where does that leave the Dus?"

The Emperor’s health had been failing for years. Shortly after his accession, he named the Empress’s eldest son as Crown Prince—his claim unchallenged as firstborn and heir apparent. Yet the Crown Prince had died suddenly in the fifth year of the Yin You era.

The Crown Prince’s death left three princes: Prince Yong, the second son of the late Virtuous Consort Shao; Prince Cheng, the third son of Noble Lady Liang; and Prince Hui, Noble Consort Lu’s young fourth son.

Tradition favored Prince Yong, the eldest remaining son. But Virtuous Consort Shao died young, and the Emperor favored Noble Consort Lu above all, daughter of the Marquis of Yongding.

Worse, the Empress had languished abed for years since the Crown Prince’s death. No one could guess if the Emperor would make Noble Consort Lu his new Empress if the current Empress passed.

If Noble Consort Lu became Empress, Prince Hui would shed his status as merely the fourth son—but the Emperor’s only legitimate heir, the indisputable Crown Prince.

Civil officials largely supported Prince Yong, led by Grand Secretary Dou, while military officials favored Prince Hui, rallying around the Marquis of Yongding. As the Emperor’s health declined, the shadow war between factions spilled into the open.

The Dus, far from court intrigues, risked nothing by staying neutral. Regardless of whether Prince Yong or Prince Hui ascended, a new ruler might even court their support.

Du Lingjing studied her uncle silently.

Why was Du Zhiqi so reckless?

Her father’s death scattered his reformist allies, and he—like his brother’s discarded policies—had been exiled to a backwater post.

While her father lived, he had not helped Du Zhiqi advance. After his death, Du Zhiqi languished in obscurity.

The Shaos threw him a rope—how could he not grab it?

The future be damned—Du Zhiqi steeled himself. "The path is set; as family head, I’ll answer for it."

"If Uncle drags the whole Du family down this road, did he bother asking the rest of us?"

Apart from Du Zhiqi, the Du clan of Qingzhou had several other provincial-level exam passers, and might soon produce another jinshi degree holder. Yet to conceal this from his niece, Du Zhiqi had not disclosed the slightest hint of it to their ancestral home in Qingzhou.

No one else knew except him.

Du Lingjing’s voice was calm, yet it pierced like a blade straight into Du Zhiqi’s weakest spot.

He sprang to his feet and swiped the teacup beside him violently to the ground. It shattered with a sharp crack, his face mottled with rage.

"Does this household answer to me, or to you, Du Lingjing?!"

The room fell silent. Outside, Ruan Gong nearly rushed in, but Du Lingjing’s gaze through the window stopped him.

The study was quiet, its layout largely unchanged, yet Du Lingjing now realized that her father’s study was nothing like before.

The desk no longer bore the towering stacks of documents he had lamented over. The reclining chair beneath the window, where he had occasionally rested during sleepless nights wrestling with policy reforms, was gone. The books he had cherished were pushed to the edges of the shelves, and even the porcelain jar holding his scrolls had been moved to a corner.

What pained her most was the short, round table and stools he had specially crafted for her as a child when teaching her to read and write.

Back then, her father had not yet been a high-ranking minister and still had time to spare. Whenever she wrote a decent character, he would excitedly lift her high in his arms, exclaiming, "My Jing is so gifted!"

But she hadn’t understood then, only objecting, "Father, I’m too old to be held so high!"

He would chuckle warmly. "Only seven, and already too old? Even at seventeen, you’ll still be my little Jing!"

Yet he could never have imagined that by seventeen, she would no longer have a father, never again.

Du Lingjing’s gaze swept over every corner of the study. The more she looked, the less she could find any trace of her father’s presence.

He was gone.

Paradoxically, this brought her solace. She didn’t want him to see his only brother and his daughter engaged in heated dispute in his own study.

It would have saddened him...

The study was quiet, a faint breeze drifting through the window, carrying the lingering scent of ink and paper.

Mastering the ache in her chest, Du Lingjing lowered her eyes.

"Your niece has no intention of presuming."

Her tone softened, and Du Zhiqi, equally reluctant to press further, sat back down.

After a brief pause, Du Lingjing spoke again.

"Your niece truly has no wish to marry anyone but the Third Lord. Yet this sudden proposal from the Shaos, rushing to settle it by Mid-Autumn—even if it’s to aid Prince Yong—feels suspiciously hurried."

"Such haste makes your niece suspect there may be ulterior designs we’re unaware of."

This made Du Zhiqi look up.