17. An Old Friend

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Yet Ah Cuo was not playing with Yan Yan. As soon as she left Ling Bo, she walked straight through the courtyard, making her way out through the Wei family’s dilapidated yard. Yang Hua was puzzled. “Is the young mistress going to see the third young lady?”

“I just want to clear my mind,” Ah Cuo replied simply.

Why would someone come out as a guest just to clear their mind? Yang Hua was confused, but her temperament was steady, unlike the lively Xiao Liu’er, so she simply followed Ah Cuo onward. From behind, they saw Madam Wei’s messenger, Aunt Fang, leading the way into a courtyard where voices could be heard.

Ah Cuo said nothing, guiding Yang Hua around the yard. From a distance, they saw Aunt Fang leave, and the sounds inside turned into raised voices.

“Young master, listen to your old servant’s advice! If you humble yourself before the marshal today, this will just pass...” The voice belonged to an elderly servant, speaking earnestly.

“I’m not going, so what! I’ll just endure another whipping!” The voice was familiar, but before Yang Hua could place it, the speaker suddenly rushed out of the courtyard—right into Ah Cuo and Yang Hua’s path.

Yang Hua quickly stepped in front of Ah Cuo to shield her, but the sudden encounter still led to a brief, stunned eye contact. The speaker was none other than Young Marquis Wei Yushan, known for constantly opposing the Ye sisters.

He indeed looked freshly beaten, his robe carelessly thrown over a white undergarment, which was clearly changed and bandaged but still faintly stained with blood. The whipping had been harsh; two wounds marred his face, and whip marks crossed his cheekbones. Despite the punishment, the young man still held a certain grim dignity. The brocade cloak draped over him was embroidered with gold threads and feathers, made of red silk—exquisite and regal, resembling something from the palace.

Ah Cuo seemed startled too. She glanced at his face with a hint of pity, lowered her eyes, and bit her lip.

Yang Hua was surprised. Though her young mistress was an orphan, she was always meticulous about etiquette. Why, today, upon meeting a male outsider, did she not step aside as usual?

But however Ah Cuo behaved, she remained dutiful.

“Young Marquis,” Yang Hua quickly placed herself before Ah Cuo, still addressing him politely but with a firm tone, “The marquis’s wife kindly invited my lady over as a guest. It was my fault for accidentally leading the young lady the wrong way and bumping into your lordship. Please do not take offense.”

“Much obliged,” the old servant responded respectfully. “The young master was a bit hasty and bumped into the lady.”

Both servants accepted blame. Fortunately, both masters were still young—old enough to be mature, yet young enough to be forgiven—and though not yet of marriageable age, after exchanging apologies they parted amicably.

Yet Wei Yushan had to add one more thing.

“You truly are one of the Ye family,” he said, not with pure disdain, but more like sulking at someone.

Ah Cuo’s long, thick eyelashes fluttered subtly at his words, like butterfly wings trembling—an almost imperceptible motion that seemed to pierce the heart.

But Wei Yushan had not expected her to lift her eyes.

Her beautiful, misty eyes, like the soft haze of Jiangnan, quietly met his gaze.

“Ah Cuo feels uneasy about the young general’s punishment,” she said softly, “She wanted to apologize, but I suppose the young general wouldn’t want to hear an apology from a Ye family member…”

She did not continue, lowering her eyes again and glanced at Yang Hua, who felt the conversation was becoming too improper. She quickly took Ah Cuo’s hand, said “excuse us,” and led her away.

Wei Yushan was caught off guard by the sudden end. Instinctively, he wanted to follow but was stopped by Old Wu, the servant, who, unaware of his inner turmoil, advised, “Young master, don’t run around anymore. Come inside and change clothes. Marshal will be angry if he sees you dressed like this. The banquet is about to start. If you don’t change soon, you’ll be late.”

“A banquet?” Wei Yushan realized.

Since she was from the Ye family, naturally she would appear at the banquet.

“That’s right, the banquet. Young master, don’t delay. No matter how much you dislike the Ye family, bear with it. If Marshal Wei sees this, he’ll be angry again.”

Old Wu pushed the still-dazed Wei Yushan back into the courtyard. Fortunately, the beating seemed to have softened his stubbornness.

—

If there was anyone happiest about the Ye family’s visit, it was Wei Leshui.

She had been prepared to secretly befriend Yan Yan, but unexpectedly, her mother, unlike her brother, seemed to have no aversion to the Ye family. The two girls quickly struck up a friendship and ran hand in hand out of the back courtyard. Wei Leshui happily showed Yan Yan her room, sharing the various items she had brought back from Yanbei.

One could tell Madam Wei had moved in hurriedly. Many trunks in Wei Leshui’s room remained unopened. The house was already somewhat worn, but the rough frontier style of Leshui’s belongings complemented the setting rather well.

“Look at my pottery horses,” she explained to Yan Yan. “They were dug up from ancient battlefields. Brother Pei said that soldiers from the previous dynasty were buried beneath Yandang Mountain. The soldiers went underground, but since horses and weapons couldn’t be buried with them, General Tuoba had craftsmen make many pottery horses as burial offerings. The soldiers appreciated his care and followed him back to the Central Plains to restore the kingdom. So the previous dynasty lasted another hundred years after the Battle of Yandang Mountain.”

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Yan Yan was quite fond, producing a small wooden horse for comparison, laughing, “Haha, this one’s been outdone.”

“Your little wooden horse is nice too—not outdone at all,” Wei Leshui quickly said, her good nature showing. Worried Yan Yan might feel slighted, she brought out more pottery horses. “Here, pick whichever you like. I’ll give them all to you.”

“I don’t want them. You must have collected them for a long time,” Yan Yan modestly declined.

“That’s okay, I have plenty,” Wei Leshui said. “Many children in Yanglin city pick up pottery horses, but most get thrown away. My family doesn’t mind; I’ve secretly saved a lot. These are my favorites. We have many more at our home in Yanglin city. Take them.”

Yan Yan finally chose a yellow one and asked, “But the soldiers only had horses—no weapons. How did they fight underground then?”

“There were weapons, but many were small and broken. I haven’t found two intact ones,” Wei Leshui explained. “But our family has a training ground with all kinds of weapons. I don’t like collecting weapons—only horses.”

“All kinds of weapons?” Yan Yan’s eyes lit up. “Like the eighteen types of weapons from stories?”

Wei Leshui smiled.

“The eighteen weapons are just tales. In real war, there are only a few: long weapons, short weapons, and blunt weapons. Long weapons use spears, short weapons use swords, and blunt weapons use hammers. Our Northern Frontier Army’s best weapons are just these few.”

“What about bows and arrows?” Yan Yan knew quite a bit.

“Bows and arrows belong to the Fire Brigade, but they’ve long stopped listening to my father. Since coming to the capital, they’ve grown even more separate,” Wei Leshui said. “Brother Pei is in the Fire Brigade. Nowadays, when our family hosts banquets, we don’t invite him.”

Yan Yan cared little for Brother Pei’s status. “By the way, let’s go watch archery. Sister Biwei always says the best archers are in the army, and I want to see for myself.”

Wei Leshui looked reluctant.

“My mother told my brother not to associate with the Fire Brigade, so I have to obey too…”

“Then forget it,” Yan Yan shrugged it off. “No worries, playing with pottery horses is fine. Here, look at the gift I brought you.”

She pulled out a small wooden sword. “This was carved for you by Sister Biwei. It matches mine.”

Wei Leshui, receiving her first gift since arriving in the capital, felt even more grateful. Yan Yan was unfazed and knelt by the couch, arranging the horses to play with. Wei Leshui’s eyes brightened.

“Right,” she said excitedly, “Though we can’t go to the Fire Brigade, there’s an archery target at our training ground. Our Mountain Brigade has a cavalry archery unit that’s really good…”

“Really?” Yan Yan grew interested.

“Really,” Wei Leshui earnestly told her. “Commander Cui has an elite unit known for their skill. They’re the best at raiding enemy lines, moving freely through thousands of troops. They won the battle by capturing the general and the flag. My brother says it’s a pity they number only 800; if they were 8,000, the war would have ended long ago.”

Yan Yan’s eyes sparkled.

“Great! Let’s go see them then.” She eagerly told Wei Leshui, “Actually, Sister Biwei is a great archer too. Next time, I’ll bring you to see who’s better!”

—

Qing Lan did not expect such an incident before the banquet.

Having helped Fu Yunrui arrange the menu and deliberately stepped out of the back courtyard early to avoid gossip about Fu Yunrui needing help to host, she was about to find Ling Bo and Ah Cuo when she noticed Aunt Fang approaching from Madam Wei’s side, bowing and greeting, “Miss Ye.”

“Greetings, Aunt Fang,” Qing Lan knew something was up. “What is it?”

Aunt Fang smiled warmly. “An important guest requests to see you at the gate.”

Qing Lan was surprised. The first person she thought of was Wei Yushan. Due to past events, the young Marquis Wei Yushan held constant hostility toward her. She wasn’t surprised but recalled the youth who once obediently called her ‘Sister Ye,’ a memory fading with time.

But if it were Wei Yushan, why would Aunt Fang call him ‘important guest’?

She stepped out through the gate with some curiosity. At twenty-four and unmarried, she already had the authority to handle many matters—being considered “unmarriageable” by society meant she was not subjected to the usual strict guarding of young ladies.

Chunming and Madam Yang were used to her ways; she signaled Madam Yang to open the gate.

Unexpectedly, it was Cui Jingyu.

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He had not changed into banquet attire, suggesting he did not intend to attend the Wei family’s feast. His reason for appearing was simple—Yan Yan was hiding behind him. Upon seeing her, Yan Yan promptly showed an obedient smile. Wei Leshui looked caught as well.

Of course, she was not flustered; she had seen many scenes like this. Years ago, when the matter of separate quarters caused a fuss that even alarmed clan elders, she had dealt with it. Four years ago, arrows shot at a fork in the road had decided their paths, and parting ways was an expected outcome.

So she merely gave a gentle salute and asked, “Greetings, Marquis. Has my sister caused trouble again?”

For a moment, Cui Jingyu seemed not to respond with a return salute.

But in the end, he gave the proper courtesy expected between young peers of the capital. Being from a family with military honors, his etiquette was thorough.

Two acquaintances meeting by chance exchanged only this simple gesture.

“It’s not exactly trouble—just that she followed Leshui into the training ground. Swords and blades have no eyes. Miss Ye only needs to know.”

He gently nudged Yan Yan forward. Even the mischievous Yan Yan had no choice but to be pushed back obediently.

“Thank you, Marquis,” she said calmly. “It was my poor discipline that disturbed your training.”

“No need for thanks.”

The conversation ended there—four years later, their first meeting was quieter than two armies facing off, yet more distant than old friends. It was the safest and most detached distance, like their formal etiquette: from peer salutations, to knowing smiles, to the mere sight of a figure stirring emotions, to the bloom of the Peach Blossom Banquet, to arm-in-arm strolls at the Tung Blossom Banquet—four years passed, but was the moonlight over Nanke Mountain still as bright? When mountain birds flew past, a single night felt as long as ten thousand years.

Yet today had finally arrived.

Qing Lan was not sad. She stood like one on a shore, waiting for the tide to rise and engulf her.

Yet she had never seen the sea, nor the northern mountains. Her impressions of the world’s landscapes came only from illustrated guides. She was Ye Qinglan of the Ye family, the perfect young lady in the eyes of the genteel world, born and raised in the capital, destined to die there.

But she had once dreamed of traveling all the world’s mountains and rivers, to see the true sea, to watch a sunrise blazing with color from the books—together with him.

At such times, one must straighten their back, endure the pain, gather strength like clutching a tree on a cliff’s edge, and slowly climb upward until able to speak again.

“I heard the decree for your ennoblement is coming soon. I forgot to congratulate you, Marquis,” her voice came softly.

If she could congratulate Madam Wei, she could certainly congratulate him. She was Ye Qinglan, always proper in etiquette.

He said nothing.

Qinglan summoned all her strength to look at his face.

He was thinner now—the youthful gallant who once rode proudly in fine clothes, gifted and confidently reckless, the Cui Jingyu she had once warned to rein in his arrogance. The border sands had worn away his flamboyant pride, leaving a character as solid as stone and metal.

How did that Li Bai poem go at the horse race banquet? “Youngsters of Wuling, east of the Golden Market, with silver saddles and white horses riding the spring breeze.” She had been that young once, and for the last line, “Laughing into the Hu Ji tavern,” she had ignored him for days. Back then, she always thought there was plenty of time to waste. If he didn’t apologize, she could easily ignore him for a month.

He would never again call himself a Wuling youth, and she no longer had the right to quarrel with him as the tavern girl in the poem.

But does the scar from when he fell during the polo bet for her still lie in the same place?

Fortunately, Wei Leshui was still young and unaware of their history, breaking the silence.

“Brother Cui, will you come to the banquet later? I heard there will be roast lamb.”

“I have to patrol the camp. I won’t go,” he replied.

Before he finished, Yan Yan grabbed Ye Qinglan’s hand, loudly asking, “Sister, when you helped Madam Wei plan the menu, didn’t you say you’d make steamed rice cakes with pine nut and date paste? Are they ready? I can’t wait to eat!”

She wasn’t done and turned to Wei Leshui, “Only my sister can make these rice cakes in the entire capital. They’re especially delicious. You’ll see when you try them.”

She pulled Wei Leshui toward the hall, but Wei Leshui hesitated, looking at Cui Jingyu. “Brother Cui…”

She clearly wanted him to attend, her eyes hopeful but not bold enough to voice it like Yan Yan. Cui Jingyu seemed moved.

“Then after my patrol, I’ll come sit for a while,” he said, still holding his sword with a cold demeanor, but a faint smile tugged at his lips—perhaps just an illusion.