Chapter 9

Yaoyao widened her eyes, a trace of surprise flickering in her gaze.

Traditionally, the wedding allowed three days of rest. For Li Shan to head north so soon clearly showed he had little regard for their newlywed status. Her heart registered a hint of surprise, but it was not entirely unexpected.

What truly astonished her was Madam Qian volunteering the information, and even proposing that she accompany Li Shan northward. Just as Madam Lu had said, her mother-in-law might seem difficult at first glance, but she wasn’t the hardest to deal with.

Yet Madam Qian misunderstood Yaoyao’s surprise. She suddenly realized: so what if she came from a noble family? If Li Shan didn’t favor her, he wouldn’t mention her at all—not even in passing. She herself had lived in Luoyang for five years. Despite many disappointments, Li Wang had never let her down. Even when stationed on the front lines, he often wrote her letters and sent tokens home.

There was one thing outsiders didn’t know—nine years ago, there was a severe drought in Jiangnan, leading to uprisings across three prefectures. The court imposed harsh conscription laws: one out of every three adult males per household, two if there were five. Soldiers were snatched up everywhere.

The Li household, including the grandfather, consisted of three adult males. When someone from the same village got captured, they implicated the Lis.

At the time, Madam Qian was gravely ill. Li Wang had stayed by her side, even collecting herbs from the mountains. But when he returned home, thirteen-year-old Li Shan and his grandfather had already been conscripted.

Because of this, the villagers said she was blessed, married to a man like Li Wang. Had he not gone gathering herbs, the fifty-year-old grandfather would have stayed behind, and Li Wang might’ve died in service.

Indeed, just a few years later, the grandfather perished in the barracks. Li Wang arrived in time to see him one last time, and with the money Li Shan had earned through hardship, he settled things for Madam Qian and rose to fame.

Now, Li Wang held the title of Marquis and governed as a regional prefect. His household remained empty, and when Madam Qian first traveled north, she had worried about concubines—but thankfully, Li Wang had not forgotten his roots.

In contrast, her own son Li Shan didn’t even mention such official duties to Yaoyao. A short separation after marriage might enhance affection, but separating immediately after the wedding was undeniably cruel.

Just moments ago, with Yaoyao present, Madam Qian had sat straighter, conversing happily with noblewomen, leaving her deeply satisfied—and so she made the proposal. But no sooner had she spoken than regret crept in. Since Li Shan didn’t like Yaoyao, and given his stubborn nature, what say did she really have? She couldn’t force a mismatched couple into being.

Thankfully, Yaoyao lowered her gaze and gently replied, “Mother, the marching route may be unsuitable for bringing women along. I fear it would trouble my husband. I would rather stay in Shangdang and keep you company.”

Madam Qian quietly breathed easier, responding at once, “Good, good, good—then tomorrow, come with me to the temple to offer prayers.”

Yaoyao softly agreed.

…

By dusk, a faint streak of cloud lingered in the sky. Evening shadows gathered. Cold crows settled on the eaves, only to be startled by the clatter of hooves and take flight.

Li Shan dismounted. His stride was wide, a chill gust trailing behind him as he entered the military tent.

Du Ming followed in from outside, clasped his fists in salute, and reported, “General, at shen hour (3-5 pm) today, five thousand troops safely returned from Luoyang and are temporarily stationed at Mount Lüliang. Xin Zhi has taken command.”

Mount Lüliang was the western barrier of Bingzhou, a place with frequent troop movements. Smuggling in five thousand men there would blend easily into the crowd, ensuring Li Wang wouldn’t discover it any time soon.

As Li Shan loosened his bracers, his movements halted momentarily upon hearing this. Then he abruptly laughed and said, “Good!” before asking, “Has Master Fan returned to Bingzhou?”

Du Ming replied, “Not yet.”

Li Shan furrowed his brows. After years of development, Bingzhou’s army had grown to nearly 90,000 men, though they only reported 70,000 to the court. Following their decisive victory over the Hu tribes, he and his father had taken 30,000 elite troops along with the Tiger Tally to Luoyang.

This was his father’s compromise with Luoyang—a gesture of submission, but not his true intention. From the very day they departed Luoyang, those thirty thousand elite troops had been secretly rerouted back to Bingzhou in staggered phases, out of the court’s sight.

As for the Tiger Tally held by the imperial court, Li Shan paid it no heed.

These soldiers were the ones he brought out—he himself was the Tiger Tally.

The Master Fan that Li Shan was concerned about was Zhanxian, courtesy name Mingdao. A gifted speaker, keen observer of human nature, and brilliant strategist, his scholarly lineage traces back to the ancient school of diplomacy and persuasion. Five years ago, he joined Li Shan as a counselor and was now one of the few nobly born members within the Bingzhou military. Given Li Shan’s general disdain and distrust toward aristocratic clans, Zhanxian’s presence signaled remarkable competence.

Two years ago, Zhanxian entered Luoyang as an official under the guise of noble lineage, but in truth, he was one of Li Shan’s planted informants. Just last year, it was he who maneuvered behind the scenes to prevent Li Shan’s “disappearance” from affecting Madam Qian.

Du Ming added, “Mr. Fan said Minister Wang currently favors him and plans to remain in court until the final Bingzhou troops return—then he’ll find a chance to slip away.”

Li Shan scoffed, “Luoyang’s been feeding him too well—tell him to drag that fat courage back quickly!”

Though it sounded like a rebuke, Li Shan’s eyes gleamed, and his tone carried a smile.

Du Ming chuckled. “Understood. I’ll send someone to urge him.”

Having already devised a way to get his mother out of Luoyang, Li Shan would never send her back. With that concern settled, his path was clear.

He turned toward the topographic sand table spread on his desk. Through the sculpted peaks and valleys, his eyes reflected mountains, rivers, lakes, oceans, and all living beings.

The world had belonged to the Da Qi dynasty for a hundred years. In the latter half of the century, highborn clans monopolized and exploited without restraint, leaving the common folk to suffer and struggle. It had driven the dynasty swiftly toward its end. Chaos loomed.

…

It was already late. With Xin Zhi watching over Lüliang Mountain, Li Shan wasn’t worried and returned to the Li residence. It was dinner time, and the household was bustling. He instinctively walked toward the western wing, where he ran into a few unfamiliar maids who saluted, “Good evening, Marquis.”

Only then did it register—he had married yesterday. From now on, this room would no longer belong to him alone. He turned as if heading to the study, but paused mid-step, frowning. This was the room he’d lived in for years. Why should he avoid it?

So he told one of the maids, “Bring me tea.”

Xin Zhu hesitated. She’d been about to inform Yaoyao of the Marquis’s return—but now that she was summoned, she kept the worry to herself and obediently poured the tea.

Li Shan walked into the room, sat down on the couch, and felt something beneath his thigh. He pulled out a white jade comb with cloud patterns, cold and weighty in his hand. He turned it over twice, then placed it on the desk and casually picked up a military treatise to read.

Outside, Mu Lan’s voice drifted in: “Madam, Bingzhou is terribly dry. Use more osmanthus lotion during your next bath—wouldn’t want your skin to lose its smoothness.”

Yaoyao said, “Mm… Let me touch—it’s smooth.”

The two women laughed and chatted, but as they stepped into the room and saw Li Shan seated squarely on the couch in full military fashion, the laughter abruptly ceased. Yaoyao’s raised sleeve exposed a wrist whiter than snow—she hurriedly let the fabric fall back into place.

Xin Zhu blinked at Yaoyao, signaling that Li Shan had only just returned.

Yaoyao understood and quietly said to Xin Zhu and Mu Lan, “You may leave.”

Li Shan lifted his gaze and saw Yaoyao’s brief unease fade. She smiled and said, “Husband has returned.”

Li Shan responded calmly, “Mm,” and dropped his eyes back to the book.

Yaoyao had dismissed the maids because she had something to say to him. Now alone together, she suddenly felt they were like stone and water—a stone thrown into water, yet the stone remained stone, and the water, water. Different in nature, unable to merge.

The thought struck her as oddly amusing, and the tension in her heart eased a little.

She had just bathed—her long, jet-black hair still damp. In the bathhouse earlier, she had dried it with a cloth and piled it gently around her neck. Now, left uncombed, it was slightly tousled.

With quiet steps, Yaoyao picked up the white jade comb from the desk.

She carried the faint scent of osmanthus blossom—a thread of fragrance like the string of a kite, deepening as she approached, fading as she stepped away.

The sound of combing hair was like wind blowing slantwise through rain—soft pulses, delicate and slow, seeping into every corner of the room. Then came a voice, gentle and pliant: “Husband.”

Li Shan closed a book he hadn’t opened in a long time. He lifted his eyes, and within his gaze, the waning light of dusk revealed a faint depth. He silently looked at her.

Yaoyao’s black hair cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall. The pale tip of her ear peeked through the strands, her features delicate and graceful. She held the comb gently, her fingers playing with its teeth. Looking at Li Shan, she softly said, “Husband, I already know you’re heading to Yanmen Commandery. Tomorrow, I’ll accompany Mother to the temple to pray for your safety.”

Knowing she had more to say, Li Shan continued watching her.

Yaoyao said, “If Husband needs to travel again in the future, may I ask that you let me know? Mother was quite surprised that you hadn’t told me. I think such small matters shouldn’t be left to worry her.”

Born into an aristocratic family, Yaoyao understood well that, regardless of how distant and indifferent they may behave toward each other, others would see them as husband and wife. And if discord arose, no matter how many faults the man had, it would be the woman who bore the brunt of gossip.

To prevent such trouble, she needed Li Shan’s cooperation. What happened behind closed doors mattered little—but in public, appearances had to be kept.

Li Shan fell silent for a moment. He had always acted on his own terms and never reported his whereabouts to those unrelated.

Still, since he wasn’t sending Madam Qian back to Luoyang, it followed that Yaoyao wouldn’t return either. She would remain in Bingzhou with Madam Qian. In the future, informing Yaoyao would be no different from informing Madam Qian.

Having thought it through, Li Shan briefly replied, “Alright.”

Yaoyao curled her lips into a faint smile. But seeing that Li Shan didn’t plan to leave, she felt a hint of disappointment—she still wouldn’t be sleeping in her bed that night.

Still, once Li Shan departed for Yanmen Commandery, she’d be left with Madam Qian alone. And since her mother-in-law had a simple disposition, life should become much easier.

The next day, when Li Shan rose, Yaoyao got up as well. Usually, in a traditional marriage, the wife would help prepare her husband’s travel gear. Soon, she realized she’d woken for nothing—not only did Li Shan not require help with packing, he unfolded his clothes, dressed swiftly, fastened his belt, and slipped on his shoes—all without a hand from anyone else.

After dressing and grooming, Li Shan strode confidently out of the room.

Nanny Zheng, seeing that he didn’t so much as greet Yaoyao, made up her mind to treat her coldly as well, and couldn’t help but sigh.

Once Li Shan left, Yaoyao went to visit Madam Qian at about the same time as she had the previous day.

…

Earlier that morning, Li Shan had come to bid farewell to Madam Qian. She, speaking with a hint of meaning, asked, “Where’s your wife? Why didn’t she come with you?”

Without moving a muscle in his brow, Li Shan replied, “Didn’t you say you disliked her?”

Madam Qian coughed—clearly, it was Li Shan who wasn’t fond of her, yet he was pinning the blame on his mother.

Li Shan added, “Since you’re going to the temple this time, there’s no need to go again.”

Madam Qian asked, “Why not?”

Li Shan replied, “If prayers really worked, not so many people would die on the battlefield.”

Madam Qian: “…”

What Li Shan truly minded was the systemic sickness of Da Qi.

For decades, the dynasty had suffered from both natural disasters and war—droughts, floods, chaos, and barbarian threats from the north. The common people lived in misery, and as a result, Buddhist temples and Daoist shrines flourished. During festivals like Laba, incense-filled temples would perform rituals for nine consecutive days.

Temples in the north were evenly split between Daoist and Buddhist. Da Qi treated priests and monks generously, exempting them from military service and reducing their taxes. Many noble sons even became monks to avoid conscription, living lives untouched by worldly concerns.

Since her son had spoken so bluntly, Madam Qian relented: “Alright, I won’t trouble myself. I only wanted to go out for a bit. You take care and return soon.”

…

At that moment, Madam Qian watched Yaoyao gracefully bow to her. The young woman’s figure was delicate and elegant, her beauty radiant—and once again, Madam Qian recalled her son’s utter lack of romantic sensibility. She couldn’t help but wonder: could it be that Li Shan had strange preferences and wasn’t drawn to beauty? Then Yaoyao couldn’t be blamed. After all, being born stunning wasn’t exactly a choice.

While Madam Qian was lost in thought, Yaoyao gently took her arm and spoke in a soft voice, “Mother, shall we go?”

Her heart gave a little tremble—how was it that the word “Mother” sounded more pleasing every time she heard it? She quickly straightened her face and said, “By the way, Madam Lin will be joining us.”

Yesterday, when Madam Lin learned that Madam Qian planned to visit the temple to pray for blessings, she recommended Tianyang Temple, saying the priest there was deeply practiced in Daoist arts and favored by the ladies of Bingzhou. She also had a personal acquaintance among the temple clergy.

Having lived in Bingzhou for a long time, Madam Lin was trusted, and so today they would visit Tianyang Temple.

Yaoyao didn’t mind where they went—what she was truly looking forward to was riding in a carriage. In Bingzhou, oxen were used for farming, so women of status traveled by horse-drawn carriage, a custom quite unlike that of Luoyang.

Horses moved faster than oxen, were more exciting, and even displayed human-like awareness. Just imagining seeing the horses made her smile.

At that time, residences weren’t yet divided into front and inner gates as in later eras; noblewomen typically exited via the rear gate.

When the two of them arrived at the back gate, Madam Lin and Fang Qiaoniang were already waiting.

Madam Lin quietly said to Madam Qian, “That temple is especially good at prayers for childbirth. Later, ask the priest to read the Young Madam’s fate.”

Madam Qian looked over at Yaoyao. The Li family lacked heirs—naturally, she hoped for a child sooner rather than later.

Just then, the coachman led over a white horse, brushed until sparkling clean. Yaoyao’s gaze lit up as she fixed her eyes on the horse, her expression glowing with delight.

Madam Qian was taken aback—so it turned out her daughter-in-law was this joyful about praying for Li Shan’s safety. And yet Li Shan claimed that prayers were useless. Could it be that only he was so uncomprehending?