Chapter 276.1: Hello Chang'an
Chapter 276.1: He’s Actually Interested in a Man?
Haofeng Courtyard was the residence of the Marquis of Zheng and his wife.
After supper, Marquis Wei Qin went for a stroll in the garden. Ever since the second month began, the flowers he cherished most had begun to bloom one after another. These days, apart from eating and sleeping, he spent nearly all his time amidst the blossoms.
Thus, when Wei Shuyi entered Haofeng Courtyard, only his mother, Duan Shi, was seated in the main hall.
Upon hearing that her elder brother had returned to the residence, Wei Miaoqing came looking for him at once.
“…Well? Has there been any news from Suining? Did Xu Zhengye truly march on Luoyang?”
Duan Shi asked anxiously, “I heard from your second uncle that in court this morning, all the officials were making a fuss about Suining’s proclamation again? Hah! Those scheming fools! Ever since the decree to grant Suining the title of General was issued, they’ve done nothing but find fault! If you ask me, they’ve had it too easy staying in the capital. They ought to be sent to Luoyang—when the rebel blades fall, their sharp tongues might as well serve as shields! But tell me—are you truly letting them slander Suining and General Chang like that? Did you shut their foul mouths or not?”
“…,” Wei Shuyi hadn’t yet answered that barrage of questions when another wave arrived—
“Speaking of Young Miss Chang’s proclamation, people have been gossiping endlessly!” Wei Miaoqing fumed. “That day, Young Master Wu even stood in Dengtai Tower, saying in front of everyone that Young Miss Chang’s proclamation wasn’t orthodox at all—every line full of arrogance and empty boasts! He claimed it was written only to make herself famous, and that it was disgraceful that the literati were spreading it around as if it were sacred! Said it showed how far the literary world had fallen!”
She huffed, “He even wrote one himself—orthodox, indeed! So orthodox it stinks! Open that proclamation, and the sour stench could drift clear to the capital! If you crumpled it and tossed it into a chicken coop, the chickens would cry from the smell and never lay eggs again!”
Wei Shuyi reached for his teacup. “That Young Master Wu is, after all, the elder brother of Miss Wu. If she were to hear you say such venomous things, she might never take you out with her again.”
“This came from Miss Wu herself!”
Wei Shuyi: “…”
“After that boast at Dengtai Tower, Young Master Wu went home drunk and stormed into his sister’s study. In front of all the servants, he tore Young Miss Chang’s chronicle to shreds!” Wei Miaoqing was practically grinding her teeth as she spoke.
Wei Shuyi gave a low hiss. “That’s practically blasphemy.”
“When Miss Wu came home and saw the mess, she waited till he was dead drunk, then had all his sour poems and soppy paintings dragged out into the courtyard and burned to ashes!”
“When he woke and came running out, he cried his heart out and fainted dead away. Old Master Wu had his acupoint pressed to revive him—only to throw him into the ancestral hall to kneel!”
Watching the ashes scatter, Old Master Wu turned to praise his granddaughter, Wu Chunbai—“Well burned! I’ve wanted to do that for years.”
Setting down his teacup, Wei Shuyi sighed. “A man of true principle.”
Duan Shi frowned at her son’s calmness and slapped the table twice. “What are we talking about this nonsense for? I asked you something earlier—answer me!”
Wei Shuyi felt a headache coming on. Still, out of filial respect, he patiently went through her questions one by one—though truly, few men alive could have remembered all she’d said in one breath.
At last, he concluded, “Let us hope Bianzhou can hold a while longer. If it delays Xu Zhengye’s army, once Xuanzhe’s troops arrive, Luoyang might yet be saved.”
“If Luoyang holds, does that mean they won’t charge Young Miss Chang and General Chang with any crimes?” Wei Miaoqing asked anxiously.
“One can only say that if Luoyang remains unharmed, they won’t face severe punishment,” said Wei Shuyi. “But if it’s Xuanzhe’s army that saves the city, the credit belongs to the court. Then, even if Luoyang narrowly escapes, they might still accuse her of ‘poor military judgment leading to peril.’”
Not only would the court censure her—those who hailed her as a heaven-sent star would also turn around and condemn her, brandishing her proclamation as proof.
Wei Miaoqing panicked. “Then what must she do to clear her name?”
“There’s only one way,” Wei Shuyi said. “She must do exactly as she wrote—personally behead Xu Zhengye.”
“If Xu Zhengye dies, his army will crumble. Then she’ll not only be blameless but a hero, and the court will have nothing left to accuse her of.”
A boast fulfilled is no longer a boast—it becomes a feat.
Wei Miaoqing frowned tightly. “…Do you think she could truly kill Xu Zhengye?”
“Judging from what we know…” Wei Shuyi shook his head. “It’s impossible.”
Xu Zhengye had already crossed Xuzhou, while she was still pursuing from behind. Catching up alone would be difficult—slaying him amid thousands of soldiers, impossible.
Xu Zhengye would never give her such a chance.
Indeed, the Xu army needn’t even breach Luoyang—merely taking Bianzhou would suffice. The defenders would die holding the line, and once the casualties became severe, her guilt would be sealed.
“…How could that child be so reckless? Why must she play the hero and write such a proclamation, handing others a weapon to use against her!” Duan Shi fretted. “They say Xu Zhengye marched on Luoyang because of her words—so even if it isn’t her fault, it’s still her fault!”
Wei Shuyi pondered. Did she truly fail to foresee this outcome?
“Then what are we to do?” Wei Miaoqing was nearly in tears, blurting out, “…Heaven should strike Xu Zhengye down! Let lightning stop him, so that Young Miss Chang can catch up and cut him down with one stroke!”
Wei Shuyi rubbed his brow. “…Perhaps you should pray to the Buddha?”
Wei Miaoqing’s eyes lit up. “Yes! I’ll burn incense right now!”
Watching her rush off in all seriousness, Wei Shuyi massaged his temples.
If his sister truly became the Crown Princess one day—or worse, the Mother of the Nation—he couldn’t imagine what a sight that would be.
In palace intrigues, she’d probably choose foolishness over cunning; when faced with traps, she’d choose embarrassment over intrigue.
Even Duan Shi fell silent at that thought.
Wei Shuyi gestured for Chang Ji to close the hall doors.
Startled by her son’s sudden gravity, Duan Shi was about to speak when Wei Shuyi said quietly, “It’s not entirely impossible that Young Miss Chang could slay Xu Zhengye.”
“After all, no one believed she could personally kill Ge Zong and Li Yi either,” he continued. “Yet what others deemed impossible, she somehow achieved.”
“Has Mother ever wondered why?”
Duan Shi blinked. “Everyone says it’s because she’s a born general, gifted beyond compare?”
“But to me,” Wei Shuyi said slowly, “true genius reveals itself in childhood—not suddenly after sixteen years. I believe her so-called ‘gift’ comes from something no ordinary person could imagine.”
Duan Shi frowned. “And what could that be?”
Wei Shuyi shook his head. “Something beyond imagination. Even I cannot yet grasp it.”
“…Could it be, as she wrote in her proclamation, that she was guided by a divine immortal?”
As absurd as that sounded, Wei Shuyi’s eyes narrowed slightly. “An immortal…?”
“Mother once served as reading companion to Princess Chongyue and thus knew the late Crown Prince well… In your eyes, does Young Miss Chang resemble the Princess more, or the Crown Prince?”
The question came so abruptly that Duan Shi’s eyes trembled. “Why do you ask that all of a sudden?”
Wei Shuyi noted her reaction. “I once heard General Ah Dian say that Young Miss Chang resembles the late Crown Prince—strikingly so.”
For a moment, Duan Shi’s breath stopped. A rush of fragmented memories flooded her mind—moments she’d once dismissed as coincidence now aligning toward a single, startling possibility.
“Has Mother thought of something?”
“I…” Duan Shi faltered, unable to explain without revealing the Crown Prince’s secret. So, skipping over countless clues, she could only mutter a vague, superstitious line: “Could it be that she’s possessed by the Crown Prince’s spirit?”
No wonder she thought so—she’d always been a devout believer in the unseen!
That absurd notion made even Wei Shuyi’s breath hitch.
People often said he was nothing like his mother—but in this, they were identical.
They both feared ghosts.
And fear begins with belief.
Belief that such things might truly exist.
The ever-composed Minister Wei forced his expression into calm and asked, “Mother, on what grounds do you make such a guess?”
He had clearly seen, just moments ago, that his usually scatterbrained mother’s mind was now racing at full speed.
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