Chapter Sixty-Three: The Imperial Betrothal (5)

With a loud thud, the teacup was slammed onto the table, sending tea splattering in all directions, some of it landing on Ye Yuandao. Li Ji’s stern voice rang out, “Absolutely not.”

Wen Qiumei hurriedly grabbed his arm, trying to calm his anger. “Husband, don’t be upset.” She turned to Ye Qianran. “Ran’er, you’re being far too unruly.”

Under Wen Qiumei’s gentle appeasement, Ye Yuandao slowly sat back down, though his voice remained harsh. “I will never agree to this matter. Put an end to such thoughts.”

With a soft thump, Ye Qianran dropped to her knees, her voice full of grievance. “Father, I do not like Zhang Yu. I do not wish to marry her.”

A fierce glint shone in Ye Yuandao’s clouded eyes. “That is still not an option. The Emperor has decreed the marriage—no one can escape such an order. Even if you dislike him, you must wed him. Besides, his grandfather is the Duke Protector of the State, and his father is a high minister at court. Their family’s standing is more than worthy of ours.”

“No matter how exalted their lineage, he is not the one I love,” Ye Qianran insisted stubbornly from the floor.

“You...” Ye Yuandao’s hand was trembling.

“Before Liuyun left for the front, I said he should propose before he departed. Since he did not come with a proposal, he should have considered these possibilities. If he does not care, why must you cling to a single tree?”

“Liuyun did not want to bind me with a betrothal,” Ye Qianran argued passionately. “He said that after he returned victorious, he would come to propose. Father, I beg you, please allow it!”

“My answer is final. Marriage is no trifling matter; it is for parents to decide, witnessed by the matchmaker, and sanctioned by the Emperor. How could this be treated lightly? Moreover, your dislike for Zhang Yu is only because you haven't spent time with him. That may change after you do.”

“Father...”

Ye Yuandao waved his hand. “No more. I can indulge you in other matters, but not this one.”

Ye Qianran felt her heart sink. With sudden resolve, she decided to confess what she had been holding back. She straightened her back, her voice turning cold. “Father, do you truly intend to watch your daughter leap into a pit of fire?”

Wen Qiumei, seeing her daughter’s relentless attitude, grew anxious and tried to intervene. “Ran’er, you’re being unreasonable. Step back, now.”

But Ye Qianran ignored her. Ye Yuandao, enraged by her words, his face flushed with anger. “A pit of fire? Are you saying that marrying Zhang Yu is like stepping into a pit of fire?”

Ye Qianran let out a cold laugh. “Father, do you truly believe my refusal is only because of Liuyun? You do not know what he has done. When you went to the Duke Protector’s manor to pay your respects, I secretly followed. Zhang Yu knew perfectly well who I was, yet he still tried to take advantage of me. If I had not escaped...” She left the rest unsaid, knowing that sometimes silence spoke louder than words.

Ye Yuandao erupted in fury, slamming the table as he stood. “You actually snuck into the Duke Protector’s manor? How could a young lady act so recklessly?”

“Father,” Ye Qianran stood as well, “that is not the point. The point is, from that incident you can see what sort of man Zhang Yu really is. He has no respect for you, either. How could you entrust your daughter to such a person?” Tears welled in her eyes, shimmering beneath the candlelight, rendering her delicate and pitiful.

Ye Yuandao’s anger slowly ebbed as he watched her. After a long moment, he sighed and sat down heavily. “You leave me with no peace of mind.” Ye Qianran clung to his sleeve, speaking softly, “Father has always cherished his daughter. Surely you cannot bear to see me thrown into the fire, can you?”

He glanced at her but remained unmoved. Wen Qiumei, sensing a shift in the atmosphere, quickly added, “If that’s the case, perhaps there is indeed a problem with Young Master Zhang’s character. We should consider this carefully.”

Ye Yuandao’s expression remained stern, though his tone had lost its earlier severity. “Have someone invite Master Wei over when there’s time. We’ll discuss a plan.” Ye Qianran broke into a tearful smile.

Outside, the moon grew rounder, larger in the night sky.

At that very moment, Wei Zhuang was at the Ministry Chancellor’s residence.

Wei Zhuang and Zhang Jing, along with Zhang Yu, sat around a round table of purple sandalwood. Wei Zhuang gestured to a servant, who promptly came forward carrying a slender box. Rising, Wei Zhuang opened the box with a smile, revealing a sword whose sharpness was evident even at a glance. Its entire length glimmered with a cold, ghostly light. Zhang Yu stood, lifting the sword from the box; it was icy to the touch, chilling him to the bone. As he drew the blade, a flash of cold steel shone brightly in the candlelight—its edge dangerously sharp. Zhang Yu could not help but exclaim in admiration, “What a sword! Truly a fine blade.”

Wei Zhuang laughed quietly and explained, “This is the legendary Jinghong Sword of the former Emperor Cheng—said to cut through iron as if it were mud. I heard that Young Master Zhang is skilled in swordsmanship. A fine sword for a hero—I hope you will not disdain the gift.”

After examining the sword, Zhang Yu sheathed it and exchanged a glance with his father. Zhang Jing smiled, clearly expecting more. Wei Zhuang gestured again, and another servant brought forward a square box. Opening it, a radiant green glow immediately illuminated the ceiling. Zhang Jing leapt to his feet, exclaiming, “Is this...?”

Wei Zhuang smiled serenely. “This is the Imperial Jade Seal, passed down from the time of Qin Shi Huang, a symbol of royal legitimacy.”

Zhang Jing cradled it reverently, as if it might shatter at the slightest touch. “When the founding emperor was alive, he sent people searching for the lost Imperial Seal. It was said to have vanished during the fall of the Western Dynasty. I never imagined it would reappear now.” His voice trembled with excitement. He had never expected the second gift to be the Imperial Jade Seal. In that instant, he resolved that whatever Wei Zhuang might request in return, he would agree—the seal’s allure was too great.

Forcing himself to calm, Zhang Jing sat without another word, waiting for the third gift. But Wei Zhuang did not signal for a servant this time; instead, he left the room, only to return with someone following behind—a youth dressed as a servant. Zhang Jing was puzzled, but Zhang Yu’s eyes widened in recognition. He stared without blinking—it was Gu Qingcheng!

Zhang Jing, observing his son’s reaction, understood much at once. He thought to himself that Wei Zhuang was no ordinary man—each gift was impossible to refuse. Whatever he wanted, it would not be simple.

Wei Zhuang smiled, knowing he already held a winning hand.

Zhang Yu’s gaze remained fixed on Gu Qingcheng, but his words were directed at Wei Zhuang. “May I ask what it is that you desire, Master Wei?” His tone was listless, for all his attention was on Gu Qingcheng.

Wei Zhuang introduced her with a smile, “This is the eldest daughter of the Ye family, the new wife of Master Zhang’s son—the younger lady of the Zhang household. Do the master and young master find their new bride satisfactory?” His words were clearly for Zhang Yu, who would understand the implication.

Sure enough, Zhang Yu’s eyes widened, his gaze shifting from Gu Qingcheng to Wei Zhuang, as if struggling to keep up. After a few moments, he grasped the hidden meaning. Zhang Jing, not understanding, asked, “What does Master Wei mean by this?”

Zhang Yu bent close to his father’s ear and whispered a few words. Zhang Jing’s eyes widened in shock.

Wei Zhuang calmly took a seat and explained unhurriedly, “Master Zhang petitioned the Emperor for the Ye family alliance to bring Ye Yuandao to your side, to serve the Sixth Prince. It doesn’t matter which daughter Young Master Zhang marries—so long as the Emperor believes she is from the Ye family, does it not?”

Zhang Jing and Zhang Yu exchanged glances. Zhang Jing stroked his beard. “Master Wei, are you forcing me to defy the imperial edict?”

Wei Zhuang smiled faintly. “Master Zhang, you misunderstand. Young Master Zhang will indeed marry the eldest Miss of the Ye family—how could that be considered defiance of the throne?”

Zhang Jing eyed Wei Zhuang carefully, then burst into laughter. He stood, clapping Zhang Yu on the shoulder. “Yu’er, are you satisfied with your new bride?”

Zhang Yu did not reply, his gaze still locked on Gu Qingcheng behind Wei Zhuang.

Zhang Jing spread his hands and smiled. “As long as Yu’er has no objections, neither do I.”

A hint of satisfaction flickered across Wei Zhuang’s lips. “But still...” Zhang Jing paused. “What matter could possibly be worth trading the Imperial Jade Seal for, Master Wei? I am most curious.”

Zhang Yu now turned his attention to Wei Zhuang, who seemed surprised by the question. After a moment’s pause, he burst out laughing. “I have few passions, except for beauty. The eldest Miss of the Ye family is herself a rare beauty.”

Zhang Yu smiled, and Zhang Jing joined him in laughter. “A man who isn’t amorous in his youth will have lived in vain.”

Night mist rose, a handful of stars faintly gleaming behind the black canopy of sky. The cries of night birds rang out, wild and unrestrained, as ten thousand lights glittered across the city. Wei Zhuang, bathed in moonlight, made his way to the Warm Pavilion. The madam greeted him as attentively as ever, yet he found he could not summon his usual mood. He had thought that, with this deal struck, he would be happy—at least one step closer to his goal. Yet happiness eluded him. He realized his feelings for Qingcheng were not as indifferent as he had imagined. Though theirs was not a bond of love, she had been at his side for three years, and now, he had sent her away so easily.

In Qingcheng’s solitary courtyard, only he remained. A deep loneliness welled up within him.

Wei Zhuang had drunk a little that night—a rare occurrence for him. He believed that drinking dulled the mind, and he wished always to remain clear-headed, in control of all he could command.

Outside, drifting clouds veiled the moon, wind stirred the curtains, and the ziwei blossoms had finished blooming in the courtyard, their shadows swaying. Amid the floating fragrance, whose thoughts had been stripped bare, leaving only the mottled, boundless desolation of time?

The fuller the moon, the deeper the loneliness.