Chapter 15

Hearing him bite down on the word “husband” with that determined edge, Yaoyao finally let out a soft laugh. Her brows curved gently as she replied, “Mm. I’m satisfied.”

Li Shan looked at her.

Yaoyao always seemed to be smiling, but tonight, in the absence of the vast Milky Way above, it was as if the starlight had poured into her eyes, sparkling and luminous. Her lips curved gently, tinged with glistening warmth under the light.

His gaze flickered ever so slightly.

Tianyang Temple had been burned down. Over fifty Taoist priests renounced their vows. Past unpaid taxes were forgiven, but from now on, they’d be treated like ordinary citizens: subject to conscription and taxation.

The incident sparked widespread discussion throughout Shangdang County, marked by criticism and regret. Other temples and monasteries, sensing danger, fell silent and low-key, waiting for the Li family to ease their scrutiny.

Just as everyone—including Li Wang—thought the matter had been settled, one night, Xin Zhi raised a torch and gave a swift command.
With solemn discipline, soldiers marched in formation, surrounding a temple.

The gatekeeper monk had just woken up. Seeing the scene, he trembled and asked, “My lord, what is the meaning of this?”

Smiling, Xin Zhi replied, “Under the general’s orders—we are conducting a full inspection to prevent harboring of criminals.”

At the same time, many other Taoist temples and monasteries were similarly surrounded. Those who sensed trouble and tried to flee were all captured and pinned to the ground. For a moment, cries for help rang out across the night.

…

In the days that followed, Li Shan was so busy he barely left a shadow behind. At first, Yaoyao assumed he had already handled the assassination attempt and headed north to escort the captured barbarians. But the next morning, she noticed the faint creases left on the bedding.

Xin Zhu remarked, “The marquis returned around the third quarter of the hour of the Rat (11-1 pm), then left again just past the hour of the Tiger(3-5 am).”

Still groggy from sleep, Yaoyao’s eyes were misty and dazed. It took her a moment to register the words before she murmured, “…So early.”

Xin Zhu was puzzled as well: “Exactly. He’s so energetic.”

Sleep habits varied from person to person. Yaoyao always needed a full night’s rest to feel restored—unless there was something urgent the next day. Like the time they came to Bingzhou, when Li Shan insisted on traveling at dawn, only then did she agree to get up early. But if there wasn’t a pressing reason, and she was forced to wake up without enough sleep, she did get a little cranky.

That’s why she admired Li Shan from the bottom of her heart—sleeping the least, shouldering the most responsibility, and yet seeming more energized each day.

After freshening up, Yaoyao visited Nanny Zheng. Her shoulder wound had improved in recent days, and being restless, she wanted to return to her duties.

Yaoyao gently persuaded her to rest a little longer, and only then did Nanny Zheng agree to stay in bed.

Still, she had something weighing on her mind: “When will the marquis escort you back to Luoyang, Madam?”

Yaoyao replied, “He’s too busy—he has to escort the captives first.”

Li Shan hadn’t even completed the task of transporting the prisoners, and Li Wang, being the magistrate of Bingzhou, was equally tied up. So the plan to send Yaoyao and Madam Qian back to Luoyang had to be postponed.

Given the distance of the journey and the inconvenience of travel, it was perfectly reasonable to stay in Bingzhou for a while longer.

Nanny Zheng nodded—it wasn’t her intention to keep Yaoyao and her husband separated. But under the Da Qi law, wives of border defense officers were often criticized if they were apart from their husbands for too long.

After seeing Nanny Zheng finish a bowl of millet, Yaoyao left the rear quarters. With Xin Zhu by her side, she walked through the corridor toward the East Hall to pay her respects to Madam Qian.

Madam Qian wasn’t there. A maid led Yaoyao to the back, saying, “Madam is in the storeroom.”

The magistrate’s storeroom still followed the layout from the previous official—it stood alone, walled with packed earth, entirely fireproof, without a trace of wood. It had two doors, with shelves and chests in order, though the interior was sparse and quite empty.

Yaoyao had just entered when she saw Madam Qian full of dismay: “Why aren’t there any gold or jewels? Isn’t Li Wang supposed to be an important official?”

Nanny Feng, the stewardess, held the storeroom key and presented the inventory ledger to Madam Qian, explaining, “Anything valuable never stays long—it either goes to support military affairs or is gifted to the subordinates.”

Upon seeing Yaoyao, Madam Qian composed herself and cleared her throat. She had opened the storeroom not only to take stock but also to log some new items—local offerings from the wives of various county magistrates in recent days: hairpins, silk, tea leaves, spices, and the like.

Madam Qian had called Yaoyao over to help divide them. “These items… that one—ah, from Madam Wang of Yanmen—she said they’re for you. And this Gu Zhu purple bamboo tea, also yours.”

After the former dynasty prohibited alcohol, and with literati culture embracing elegant gatherings, tea gradually became a refined commodity. High-quality tea could fetch hundreds of taels of silver.

Madam Qian’s eyes shimmered with sincere longing. But Yaoyao, never miserly, responded calmly, “If Mother is holding these things for me, then it’s Mother who should keep them.”

Madam Qian was immediately delighted. “Fine, I suppose I’ll accept them—for your sake! Just don’t come back later saying I didn’t tell you where they came from!”

Xin Zhu glanced over, thinking: with how luxurious Yaoyao’s family has been even in quieter years, these trinkets might not even catch her eye.
Just then, two maids carried in a chest and set it down.

Madam Qian asked, “What’s inside?”

Nanny Feng replied, “It’s a zither—called ‘Mingzhu.’ A gift from Madam Guo.”

Madam Guo was the wife of the governor of Shangdang County, a loyal official dispatched from Luoyang after the city had fallen five years prior. She had always shown sincere respect to the Li family. Her gifts, too, were carefully chosen.

But Madam Qian lost interest at the mention of a zither and waved for it to be put away. Yaoyao, however, softly asked, “Mother, may I take a look at it?”

In Yaoyao’s dowry was a zither named “Jingque” (“Startled Magpie”).

Jingque and Mingzhu were sister instruments, both crafted by the famed Luo family of Shu. Known for selecting fine materials, Luo zithers were praised for their sound that soared like a song through the heavens.

Yaoyao adored Jingque. Back in Luoyang, in quiet moments at home, she often played it. Her dowry remained at the Li estate in Luoyang, so Jingque was not by her side. And when she learned Mingzhu was right in front of her, even her gentle nature couldn’t suppress the urge to ask.

Fortunately, just as she’d hoped, Madam Qian was not difficult about it. She nodded without hesitation: “Go ahead, take it.”

Yaoyao lifted the zither named Mingzhu and placed it on the table. Its body bore a striking resemblance—almost ninety percent—to her own beloved Jingque. With a gentle pluck of the strings, its sound flowed like spring water—clear and melodic—yet its closing notes rang out like drawn steel.

She played a brief passage of “Scattered Clouds Melody.” Though Madam Qian didn’t understand the modes and scales, goosebumps rose on her arms. Her heart stirred, overwhelmed and enchanted.

After a few strokes, Yaoyao indulged her longing and promptly withdrew—without overplaying.

Madam Qian, still in a daze, muttered, “So you can play the zither… oh, right. You’re from a noble house—of course you can.”

Yaoyao replied with grace, “If Mother enjoys it, I’ll play for you again.”

Madam Qian had found it beautiful, but—remembering a past embarrassment at a Luoyang banquet—she hesitated, masking her feelings: “Maybe later.”

In truth, she was already thinking—I’ll ask Li Wang how much this zither’s worth. If it’s not too expensive, I suppose Yaoyao can keep it.

Nearby, Xin Zhu stole a glance at Yaoyao. ‘Scattered Clouds Melody’ was, truth be told, had been taught to twelve-year-old Yaoyao by her cousin from the Lu family, who had been staying with the Xie family during his scholarly travels.

Yaoyao loved the zither and played it without giving much thought to its origin. But if others found out, it might be deemed inappropriate.

Xin Zhu sighed quietly—never mind, that Lu cousin is far away in Fanyang now. They probably won’t ever meet again.

Everyone was still caught in the lingering haze of the music when suddenly, Aunt Li came running, calling out in alarm: “Oh no, oh no—Young Master is arguing with the lord again in the front hall!”

Sunlight streamed through the patterned upper panes of the window, casting clear, sharp lines onto the floor. Li Shan stood bathed in that light, as if the rays had etched themselves into his eyes. Between his thick brows, a faint air of hostility rippled.

Li Wang paced back and forth, his heart heavy. “Who authorized you to act against the temples?”

Li Shan smiled. “I did.”

This campaign against Taoist and Buddhist institutions had been executed without prior approval—he struck first and reported later. His soldiers were united, and it wasn’t until this morning that Li Wang even caught wind of it. He jabbed a finger at Li Shan, calling him by name. “Li Shan, do you understand what this means?”

Li Shan replied calmly, “Of course I do. ‘Strike while the iron is hot—delay breeds weakness.’ Having already burned Tianyang Temple, we must press the advantage. Miss the window now, and we’ll never have another chance to check these religious strongholds.”

He then said to his father, “But razing just one temple still doesn’t quell the rage in my heart.”

Li Wang was stunned.

The rage in his heart? What was it aimed at? The aristocratic families.

After all these years, Li Shan had never let go of the grief surrounding his grandfather’s death.

Trembling, Li Wang said, “You intend to shake the foundations of the nobility? You dare imagine you could?”

But Li Shan no longer spoke of them directly. Instead, he declared, “The grand houses lack virtue. They monopolize spiritual authority, leaving those with true faith nowhere to turn. I only seek to wipe out that kind of corrupted religion.”

Li Wang said bitterly, “You’ve cut off the livelihood of the Guo family and other noble clans—they’ll hate you for this!”

Li Shan curled his lips. “If they can’t take my life, let them hate me all they want.”

He stood tall, a young man in his prime, now an inch taller than Li Wang. The mottled sunlight etched his striking profile, and in his radiant eyes burned a fire of ambition that Li Wang had never possessed.

Li Wang forced himself to calm down. Could it be true—had he really grown old? And if so, who could rein in Li Shan now?

Then he heard his son murmur, “Father, please—continue your fury.”

Li Wang understood the message immediately. Even his reaction had been calculated in advance. Outside the room, several maids and servants were quietly observing the clash.

Many of them were likely informants, connected to the noble families or even to Luoyang. The Li household had long suspected their presence, but left them undisturbed, precisely for moments like this.

By putting on a show of discord between father and son, the Li family was intentionally feeding false signals to placate the aristocracy. Just like the famous strategy from the former dynasty: Zhou Yu striking Huang Gai—a conflict staged, not real.

Caught in the performance, Li Wang had no choice but to follow through. With a deep sigh, he pulled off his belt and “angrily” declared, “Today, you won’t escape a beating!”

When Yaoyao and Madam Qian arrived, they found Li Wang striking Li Shan.

Madam Qian didn’t think twice. She exclaimed, “Ah! Stop hitting him!”

But Li Wang didn’t stop. Li Shan looked up and saw Yaoyao standing behind Madam Qian, taking a small step backward.

It was the first time Yaoyao had witnessed such a scene. The jade-studded belt made a sharp “whoosh” as it lashed down again and again onto Li Shan’s arm. Dressed in a plain robe, a thin trace of blood was now faintly visible on his sleeve.

Yaoyao’s brows knitted tightly, her pupils trembling. Her pale face lost its color; her breath caught, and her lips pressed into a tight line. In those beautiful eyes shimmered unmistakable fright.

Li Shan’s gaze froze for an instant. When the belt swung down once more, he raised his arm, seized it in one motion, tore it from Li Wang’s hand, and flung it to the ground. He said, “Enough. Stop hitting me.”

Li Wang: “…”

And the next moment, the Prefect truly lost his temper: “Insolent child! Get out of the Li family!”