Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Lian Xiusheng saw the unmistakable fear in his third brother’s eyes, loosened his grip, and said, “Third Brother, let’s talk.”

Lian Cheng’s heart still raced wildly. “Talk about what?”

Romance? No—certainly not that.

Yet Lian Xiusheng’s thoughts diverged sharply from those of his modern-minded third brother. He took down the painting from the wall, rolled it up, and handed it back. “Returning it to its rightful owner.”

Lian Cheng accepted it, bewildered. Lian Xiusheng stepped away, putting space between them, regaining his customary calm composure, his voice light and clear: “I dislike forcing others. There are countless men in this world—I need not fixate solely on Third Brother.”

He stood facing the bookshelf, arranging volumes without glancing at Lian Cheng, continuing calmly: “Though I harbor feelings for Third Brother, I refuse to impose them. If fate denies us union—even simple companionship—that is not my intent.”

Lian Cheng stood stunned for a long while before snapping back to reality, overjoyed. “A forced melon bears no sweetness. It brings me great comfort that you’ve come to this understanding.”

He stepped forward and stood behind Lian Xiusheng. “Love fades; brotherly bonds endure. Though we share no bloodline, let us never turn against each other.”

Lian Xiusheng hummed softly, a faint note of shame coloring his voice. “I have offended Third Brother repeatedly of late—do you hold it against me?”

“Since we are brothers, why quibble over trifles?” Lian Cheng waved dismissively, magnanimous. “Father summoned me the other day to speak—telling me certain things about you. I replied that whether or not we share blood changes nothing: I am your elder brother. From this day forward, under any circumstance, my resolve remains unshaken. Let us be brothers—for life.”

Seeing Lian Xiusheng remain silent, Lian Cheng tried to reason with him, deploying his silver tongue. “Truth be told, I’ve long wished to tell you—your feelings for me may not be deep affection at all.”

Lian Xiusheng appeared intrigued. “How so?”

“You’ve lived under strict discipline for years—preoccupied with family affairs, frugal in dress and diet, distant from women. I thought we might ask Father and Mother to arrange a marriage for you soon, secure your betrothal early…”

“Third Brother worries too much,” Lian Xiusheng interrupted, lashes lowered, concealing turbulent currents beneath. “I have never willingly inflicted suffering upon myself. My transgression toward Third Brother stemmed from prolonged solitude—only an oil lamp for company, poetry and painting as companions—causing me to mistake admiration for my elder brother as infatuation. Thanks to Third Brother’s upright character and earnest guidance, otherwise, fraternal incest would ruin prospects, corrupt humanity’s most sacred bonds, and incur heaven’s unforgivable wrath.”

Lian Cheng had never anticipated such insight from Lian Xiusheng—truly worthy of a *zhuangyuan*.

He’d assumed someone like Lian Xiusheng would stand as unbending as bamboo; to pull him back from the precipice, he’d braced himself for immense effort—even mentally prepared for a protracted siege. Yet he’d never imagined it would prove so effortless!

For a moment, Lian Cheng was so moved he lost his composure—his eyes reddened.

—In this world, brothers often wage bitter battles over coveted possessions, severing ties forever. Lord Zhuang of Zheng and his brother Gongshu Duan turned against each other, giving rise to the famed passage “Lord Zhuang of Zheng Defeats Duan at Yan”—both condemned by posterity. Lian Cheng refused such a fate. Among all the brothers in their family, he and Lian Xiusheng were closest. Blood ties mattered little to him; truth be told, he himself bore no blood relation to this family at all.

He truly regarded Lian Xiusheng as his younger brother. Having never known close kin, now that he did, he naturally resolved to hold fast to them.

Lian Cheng had even contemplated—if Lian Xiusheng insisted on such a relationship—he might acquiesce, if only to avoid losing him.

Fortunately, Lian Xiusheng had reached this realization independently. Clearly, fraternal affection weighed more heavily upon him.

Overjoyed, Lian Cheng thrust the painting back into Lian Xiusheng’s arms, tears welling in his eyes. “Then this painting belongs to you—as a token of our brotherhood!”

Lian Xiusheng vowed to treasure it.

Lian Cheng departed. Jin Cai escorted him out, then returned and asked the young master, “Since you voiced your feelings, why retract them?”

“I don’t wish to press him too hard,” Lian Xiusheng replied, rehanging the painting on the wall. “I want Third Brother to love me—not fear me.”

“That will be difficult.”

“Third Brother values relationships. Otherwise, he’d have reported my offenses to Father long ago. Had Father learned of them, I’d never see Third Brother again in this lifetime. I’m still not powerful enough—and the Lian family’s roots run deep…”

“Young master, choose your words carefully,” Jin Cai murmured, bowing low—then suddenly lifted his gaze. “Could it be… you still harbor hopes for the future?”

Lian Xiusheng spoke lightly, gazing at the two figures in the painting: “Whatever I desire, I attain.”

Thus, Lian Xiusheng was willing to grant his third brother time. Third Brother was right: as brothers, they were already the closest people in the world. If they remained together—like residing in a virtuous environment—by the time Third Brother awakened, he’d already be entranced, captivated, his fate sealed.

Jin Cai had barely registered this astonishment when a flash of pea-green darted past the window—Man Cai. He halted behind Jin Cai, bowed, and announced, “Young master.”

Knowing he’d come to show off, Lian Xiusheng glanced at him and asked whether his clothes were ready.

“I had them tailored the day after you gave me the measurements—delivered this morning. They fit perfectly.” Man Cai beamed, his fair face bearing no trace of the pitiful state in which Qiong Hua had scolded him until tears and snot streamed down his cheeks. “Do you have further orders?”

Lian Xiusheng shook his head, declining.

“Then may Jin Cai try on his clothes as well?”

Lian Xiusheng waved his hand; the two scurried off. By then, night had fully fallen. The kitchen sent over dinner—prepared precisely to his taste, light and pleasant. Shortly afterward, Zhou Yaniang’s quarters delivered two plates of fruit-filled pastries. He sampled one of each, then went to thank her and pay his respects.

In Zhou Yaniang’s chamber, she instructed her maid Xuemei to serve tea to Lian Xiusheng. As they sipped tea together, the lady raised the Xia family matter. “They used their son as a scapegoat—merely demoting him to the secondary capital. That was far too lenient.”

“The Xia boy’s maternal family resides in the secondary capital. Relocating the entire household there would afford them greater maneuverability than in the capital,” Lian Xiusheng observed.

“And Grand Secretary Ye bears no blame whatsoever?”

“Grand Secretary Ye served as tutor to the current emperor when he was still crown prince. How could he possibly be at fault?” Lian Xiusheng smiled, praising Grand Secretary Ye several more times—unable to suppress a smirk.

Zhou Yaniang, seeing he could still smile, grew so furious her chest heaved violently. “His present glory rests upon the corpses of our twenty-seven families! I long only to feast upon his flesh and sleep upon his skin!”

By lamplight, tears coursed down Zhou Yaniang’s cheeks. “Qiu’er—do you know? My child, who would have been your age, might yet have survived. Had he lived to this day, he’d stand as tall as you. The old master said he’d have you two study together as companions. But those men burst in, terrified my son—triggering convulsions that killed him. How it wounds me!”

After a pause, she wiped her tears and rasped, “When my son died, it was convenient to replace him with you. At least his birth wasn’t in vain. Yet I’ll never see him again—and my heart aches bitterly.”

Lian Xiusheng handed her a handkerchief, pulled up a stool, and sat at her feet. “Fourth Madam, Lian Jiao will never forget your nurturing grace.”

Zhou Yaniang wept bitterly for a long while, then instructed Xuemei to escort Lian Xiusheng out. After he left, Xuemei wiped her face and combed her hair. The woman clutched Xuemei’s hand, wept again, then ordered wine heated. She drank it—and finally fell asleep.

But deep in the night, Fu Guang arrived bearing a lantern, guiding Lian Pu. Seeing all side rooms dark, Lian Pu tiptoed inside, took the lantern from Fu Guang, and shone its light upon the sleeping Zhou Yaniang. He watched for a long time, then turned to Xuemei. “If she cries like this every night, her eyes will be ruined.”

Xuemei, ignorant of the cause, replied, “This evening, Sixth Brother came to pay respects and spoke with the madam for some time. I heard her weeping outside—something about ‘at least I didn’t give birth to him in vain.’ Likely because Sixth Brother studies diligently and shows great promise—she felt both sorrow and joy, thus wept.”

Lian Pu sighed, lingered briefly, instructed Fu Guang to hand Xuemei the cloth and delicate snacks he’d brought—and departed.

As they left, Fu Guang walked ahead with the lantern and remarked, “You favor visiting Yiqiu, Master—but Fourth Madam always refuses to see you.”

Lian Pu clasped his hands behind his back, pointing toward the sal tree outside. “Looks fierce and frightening.”

Fu Guang didn’t glance—but through the round lattice window on the left wall, he glimpsed the lights of Penglai Pavilion. “Sixth Brother isn’t asleep yet. Shall we go see him, Master?”

Lian Pu rubbed his temples. “No—I won’t see him. I can’t win an argument with him; his logic twists like rope. I don’t know whose traits he inherits—but his tongue cuts too sharp.”

“Then we could drop by anyway—it’s convenient.”

Lian Pu sighed again. “Let’s sit instead in Zhiyuan Pavilion.”

Lian Cheng had returned to his study, resuming work on his book. Now that the crushing weight of bitter ambition and vengeance had lifted, his nerves relaxed—and he resolved to write a short story on fraternal harmony (*xiong you di gong*), illustrating to Lian Xiusheng just how vital sibling unity truly was.

Yet something still troubled Lian Cheng: Lian Xiusheng’s hatred. With such hatred, how would he exact revenge upon the Lian family? This suspicion gnawed at him—could this fraternal affection merely be a smokescreen? Were Lian Xiusheng’s feelings for him purely utilitarian?

But wait—what value did he possess to be exploited? He was flattering himself—ha ha. After a hearty laugh to the heavens, Lian Cheng itched to uncover Lian Xiusheng’s true affairs. Yet he reasoned Lian Xiusheng wouldn’t divulge them—and constantly dredging up the past might damage their fraternal bond.

Forget it, Lian Cheng decided. He’d simply deepen his influence within the Imperial Guard Office. Should anything truly suspicious arise later, he’d arrest Lian Xiusheng—then protect him. Problem solved.

As for the grudges of the older generation, Lian Cheng couldn't be bothered with them anymore. Let them settle their own scores—he'd side with whoever wins.

-

And then the day finally came for Lian Cheng to report to his office. Zhang Ailian, despite her illness, insisted on seeing Lian Cheng off on his horse. She frowned, saying it would be better to take a sedan chair. Lian Cheng waved her back, reminding her that the weather was still cold and the wind strong. With that, he didn't linger at the gate any longer, spurring his horse forward and disappearing in an instant.

Zhang Ailian coughed a few times, and Qiu Fang stepped forward to tighten her cloak, comforting her, "Our young master now has a sense of responsibility, Madam need not worry too much."

Zhang Ailian squinted into the distance and suddenly asked, "I heard our son is raising two chickens?"

Qiu Fang replied, "Yes, Madam. The two chickens came from Second Madam's estate. They were quite fierce before, pecking and biting at anyone they saw. But after arriving at our young master’s courtyard, they became much gentler. I heard he even gave them names, and they respond only when he calls. No one else, not even Huqiu, can get them to come."

Seeing Zhang Ailian's brow furrow deeper than before, Qiu Fang was puzzled. "Our young master’s kindness extends to animals—that’s a good thing, isn’t it?"

Zhang Ailian’s face turned pale, then she forced a bitter smile and looked at Qiu Fang. "Do you remember the autumn hunt in the twenty-fifth year of Yongchang? Prince Li Jiao, without a single arrow or a single shot, had countless beasts following behind him. The late Emperor proclaimed, 'Prince Li Jiao, favored by Heaven,' and made him crown prince. Now tell me, if the current Emperor learns that my son also possesses the ability to command wild animals, what fate will befall him?"

Qiu Fang’s face went pale and ugly.

Lian Cheng, unaware of the "blaze" in his own household, excitedly arrived at his new post. He had been to the Northern Court twice before, to visit Xia Shutong, but his new unit, the Southern Court, was just a wall away from it.

Unlike the dark, dignified, and solemn Northern office, the Southern office appeared quite tranquil. The courtyard was filled with flowers and trees, with rockeries and ponds everywhere, carved beams, painted rafters, and upturned eaves—clearly an idyllic though not impoverished office.

Following procedure, Lian Cheng first went to the Personnel Office to handle his onboarding. The clerk there was an old commander named Liu, with squinty eyes and a fat face. Without pleasantries, he handed over the appointment documents and told him to report to the Southern Court Commissioner. Lian Cheng then went to find the Southern Court Commissioner. Passing through one gate and then another, before he could locate him, he saw several people standing on a small arched bridge in the courtyard. One of them wore a Three-Mountain crown and an embroidered round-collared robe with a python insignia, a jade belt with a red-tasseled ivory plaque at his waist—clearly a favored eunuch from the palace.

As expected, the other men were the local Brocade Guard officers. One had a qilin insignia on his robe, while the other two wore the same uniform as the elderly commander Liu.

They seemed to be discussing something, so Lian Cheng kept his distance, waiting for them to finish.

But the man on the bridge noticed him and summoned him over. One of the officers in blue-green brocade uniform shouted, "You, the unfamiliar face! Come over!"

Lian Cheng hurried over, made a bow, first bowed to the Commissioner, then the two other officials whose ranks he didn’t know, and finally greeted the Venerable Eunuch respectfully. Wu Yuanchen studied the young man before him and said, "I bet you’re the third son of the Lian family, am I right?"

Lian Cheng was startled and looked up. "The Venerable Eunuch has sharp eyes."

"I’m sixty-three this year—what sharp eyes do I have?" Wu Yuanchen said, though his expression betrayed no displeasure, rather a hint of delight. "Your mother... I watched her grow up. Back then, she quarreled fiercely with her family, packed a bundle, and entered the palace. Who would have thought the life there was completely different from what she imagined? And once in, there was no way out. Fortunately, I taught her step by step, promoted her, and made her an attendant to the Former Crown Prince. Later, she married and was enfeoffed as a commandery princess. I even gave her several sets of dowry."

His tone then turned ambiguous. "This little wretch—once out of the palace, it’s as if she’s dead and gone. She didn’t even send a letter. Sending her son to me, she doesn’t worry I might hold a grudge?"

Lian Cheng felt uncomfortable hearing his mother being insulted, but not knowing whether the man meant well or ill, he bowed and said, "My mother has been unwell and constantly on herbal medicine. Not only with you, who are her benefactor, but even with her own family, she rarely exchanges letters. If you miss her, Venerable Eunuch, I will convey your regards to her when I return home tonight."

Wu Yuanchen smirked. "Clever little monkey—do you think I can’t tell you’re mocking me?"

The Commissioner, unsure whether Wu Yuanchen was truly angry, signaled the two nearby officers to press Lian Cheng’s shoulders and force him to kneel in apology.

But before their hands even touched Lian Cheng, Wu Yuanchen whipped out a duster from his sleeve and struck each of them once. "You blind bootlickers! Routinely licking boots and bullying the weak! Do I want him to kowtow to me?"

Having scolded them, he put the duster back into his sleeve, raised his sagging eyelids, and said, "You lot—if you have eyes, use them for something meaningful! Last year, the entire year, the Southern office couldn’t accomplish a single thing. At year’s end, you even had the cheek to ask the Northern office for money to plant flowers! Your faces are three inches thick! Fine, I won’t waste more words on you clueless lot. I’ll still speak to the current Emperor about merging the two offices into one. But I’ll say this beforehand—there’s no guarantee it’ll get done."

A carrot and a stick. The three men all smiled and nodded repeatedly.

Wu Yuanchen was about to leave when he tugged at Lian Cheng’s collar and looked at the Commissioner. "This uniform doesn’t suit him. I think a commander’s rank fits him better. Lou Lan, get him a suitable set."

Lou Lan was the Commissioner of the Northern Court. He bowed respectfully and said with difficulty, "Venerable Eunuch, the current Emperor is very strict about personnel changes in the office. The rank of commander is already full—it’s not convenient to add more."

Wu Yuanchen thought for a moment and said, "I just glanced at your attendance records. There’s a man who didn’t report for duty twenty days out of the month. Pay him his silver and send him home to rest."

Before Lian Cheng could react, the old eunuch was already gone. He had arrived by sedan chair, accompanied by a few young eunuchs, but unlike the two Lian Cheng had seen earlier, who made a racket with trumpets and drums, he kept a low profile. Perhaps he wasn’t here on an imperial favor that required public announcement.

But Lian Cheng hadn't expected that in just reporting to his leader and going through onboarding, he would be inexplicably promoted to commander. Wasn’t the old eunuch trying to set him up for a fall? He’d complain to Zhang Ailian about it tonight.

Sure enough, the old eunuch had made him enemies. As soon as Wu Yuanchen left, the two commanders glared at him. "If you have connections, why are you taking a back seat here? Why not go to the Northern office?"

Lian Cheng didn’t yield and replied respectfully, "Mind your own damn business."

Turning to Lou Lan, who had seen the old eunuch off, Lian Cheng was much more polite, flashing a standard eight-tooth smile.

Lou Lan, his hand resting on the embroidered sabre at his waist, stared for a long time before asking, "Of the Lian family?"

Lian Cheng didn’t know why the man, already aware of his identity, would ask again, but he nodded. "Reporting to the Commissioner: this subordinate Lian Cheng, third son of the Lian family."

Lou Lan’s lips curled slightly. "Without official residence registration and before passing your probationary service, you call yourself 'this subordinate'—don’t you think that’s presumptuous?"

Lian Cheng thought to himself, *He was being too clever again.* But he immediately corrected himself. "Reporting to the Commissioner: this subordinate, Lian Cheng."

Lou Lan, however, paid no attention and continued as if to himself, "But since you’re from the Lian family, such behavior is quite in keeping with your family tradition."

"?" Before Lian Cheng could rebut, Lou Lan let out two loud laughs, his eyes icy cold. He warned the other two commanders to take good care, saying that the Lian family had always been duplicitous, building factions and attacking dissenters.

Then he left with his men, leaving Lian Cheng standing alone on the bridge, bewildered. He had been on this damn job for only an hour, and already he felt like killing someone.