Chapter 715: The Deep Meaning Behind This Day‑After‑Day Paying of Respects

The measure of time silently turned backward to ten days ago.

The heart of Great Zhou, Chang'an.

It is August now; the northwestern autumn wind has not yet blown the bone‑chilling cold through Bronze Tube, yet the ginkgo leaves in Chang'an have already begun to yellow.

The setting sun, blood‑red, stains the Tai Chi Palace's glazed tiles—symbols of supreme authority—into a massive painting rendered in heavy ink and bright colors, yet tinged with a hint of grim lethality.

Yet in the northeastern corner of this magnificent imperial capital, within the vast and imposing Jin Wang Fu, the scene is entirely different.

In the rear quarters of Jin Wang Fu, a long corridor paved with Taihu stone and white marble sees two graceful figures strolling slowly.

The woman on the left wears a plain moon‑white ru‑skirt, her head bare of jeweled hairpins, holding her cloud‑like black hair with a superb sheepskin Jade Hairpin.

Her brows and eyes are gentle, her temperament as cool as an orchid in a secluded valley—she is Pei Suiwan.

In her arm she carefully cradles a baby not yet a year old.

The little fellow, carved like fine jade, with a pair of jet‑black eyes curiously scanning his surroundings, is Chen Ji'an.

Walking beside Pei Suiwan is Du Shuying, the legitimate daughter of the Jing Zhao Du Clan, dressed in light pink brocade, her appearance dignified and beautiful.

In her arms she also holds a several‑month‑old baby boy, Yuwen Jimin.

"Pei Suiwan, it's been over a month since A Ze left for Yubi. These past days not a single word of a family letter has returned from the front, and I feel uneasy. I heard that this time Qi State has sent out all its elite, even the Crown Prince himself went to the front, and on top of that the Rouran barbarians, who kill without blinking, are eyeing us. The Damen of Guanzhong is not so easy to defend."

Pei Suiwan stopped, turned her head, and those clear bright eyes quietly looked at Du Shuying; she extended a jade‑white finger and lightly tapped Du Shuying's hand back.

Her movement was gentle, yet exuded a calming, reassuring force.

"Do not panic, Du Shuying. When my husband left the capital he once said, the world's affairs are like a chessboard. Qi State's people are powerful but arrogant; the Rouran are greedy yet only care for profit. Those two brothers will surely have a plan to break the stalemate." Pei Suiwan's voice was not loud, but unusually steady.

She lowered her head, gently wiped a droplet of saliva at Chen Ji'an's mouth corner with a brocade handkerchief; although her eyes also hid a worry that could almost swallow her, outwardly she showed no flaw.

"Furthermore, if we panic and lose our footing, won't we cause the Grand Preceptor to be distracted? My husband repeatedly reminded me before departing: as long as he is on the front for a single day, our daily dusk‑time paying of respects, even if it means a knife, must never be broken. This is not only filial piety, but also the rules."

Hearing the word "rules", Du Shuying inhaled deeply, forced the panic in her heart down, and solemnly nodded.

The two composed themselves, took their attendant Rong'er, and passed through the layered arches.

At this moment, the Ya Ge door was half‑closed. The air was scented faintly with dragon‑scent incense, and an intangible pressure that made one feel suffocated pervaded.

Pei Suiwan and Du Shuying stood outside the door, tidied their appearance, prepared to be reported by the Personal Guard outside, but inside came a very low, yet somewhat gentle voice.

"Pei Suiwan and Du Shuying have arrived, right? It's chilly outside, don't let the children freeze, come in."

They exchanged a glance, and respectfully stepped over the high threshold.

Inside the Warm Pavilion, few candles were lit.

Yuwen Hu, dressed in a dark‑colored formal robe, stood with both hands at the massive Feng Shui map of Guanzhong.

The forty‑seven‑year‑old Grand Preceptor, whose power already dominated the court, remained as upright as a pine.

His face, chiseled like a blade, bore sword‑like eyebrows slanting into his temples, eyes deep and sharp.

Even a casual silhouette exuded a reverent, lethal aura.

"Pei clan's lady, may I have an audience with the Grand Preceptor!"

"Daughter‑in‑law Du clan, may I have an audience with my father."

The two, cradling their children, made a graceful bow.

Yuwen Hu slowly turned; the gaze that had been as sharp as a hawk melted like ice upon seeing the infants in their arms, turning into gentle kindness.

"No need for formalities, please be seated," Yuwen Hu raised his hand.

He walked straight to Pei Suiwan, looking at the Chen Family matriarch who came every dusk without fail to pay her respects; in his eyes that saw through the world and human hearts, a flash of deeply complex approval and warmth passed.

With Yuwen Hu's supreme scheming, how could he not discern the deeper meaning behind Pei Suiwan's day‑after‑day paying of respects?

A Yan nailed his legitimate eldest son and his principal wife in Jin Wang Fu; ostensibly filial, in reality he deliberately handed his family members as 'hostages' under his very watch.

A Yan is using this near‑extreme, pathological method to declare to himself: Chen Yan, even with an army in the distant borders, harbors no second thoughts!

"Hand me Jian," Yuwen Hu said, extending his calloused hand that had slain countless political foes.

Pei Suiwan respectfully handed over the swaddling cloth.

Yuwen Hu took Chen Ji'an, his movements oddly cautious, even a bit clumsy.

He bowed his head, under the Warm Pavilion's dim yellow candlelight, carefully studying the infant not yet a year old.

Little Jian, unafraid, looked at the imposing man, giggled, and with his chubby little hand seized a strand of Yuwen Hu's hanging beard.

"Ah!" Rong'er turned pale with fright, fearing the Grand Preceptor's anger.

But Yuwen Hu did not anger; instead he let the small hand tug his beard, his gaze revealing a rare tenderness and reminiscence.

He looked at the infant whose features so resembled Chen Yan, his sight gradually blurring.

In those clear innocent eyes, he seemed to see again, thirty years ago, the person who, in a peach‑blossom grove outside Chang'an, turned and smiled at him, a smile he could never forget…

"Jin Tang… if you sense from the underworld, seeing your grandson so healthy, seeing your son now a pillar of Great Zhou, you should smile in the afterlife, then…" Yuwen Hu felt an unspeakable bittersweet relief.

He inhaled deeply, suppressed his fluttering heart, indulgently pinched Chen Ji'an's chubby cheek, and loudly exclaimed, "This boy's bones are remarkable, he's becoming more like his father! When he grows up, he'll surely be a valiant warrior of Great Zhou!"

Then he approached Du Shuying, teased the equally sprightly Yuwen Jimin, nodded and praised, "Jimin is fine too, his brows carry A Ze's modest aura. When these two boys grow up, let them be like A Yan and A Ze, a pair of brothers bound by life and death!"

The Warm Pavilion's atmosphere was joyous, and Pei Suiwan and Du Shuying couldn't help sharing a knowing smile.

This brief tranquility, like the familial bliss of ordinary households, made one almost forget the cruel, blood‑thirsty world outside.

Yet, at the vortex's power‑center, calm is forever only a prelude to the coming storm.

At that moment, a frantic, almost panicked footfall from the far end of the corridor instantly shattered the Warm Pavilion's coziness.

"Report—!"

Gongyang Hui, a Jin Wang Fu aide, could no longer mind the protocol of the relay.

His usual gentlemanly poise, ever composed even as Mount Tai collapsed before him, was now gone.

He even lost a hair ornament, his hair a bit disheveed, both hands raised a bamboo tube sealed tightly with Red Fire Wax Seal and pierced by three feathers, panting as he rushed to the Warm Pavilion's doorway.

"Six hundred li urgent! Frontline top‑secret battle report!"

Hearing the words 'frontline battle report', the smiles that had just appeared on Pei Suiwan and Du Shuying's faces instantly froze.

Those four characters were like an unseen icy giant hand, crushing their hearts mercilessly.

The Crown Prince of Qi State personally led the campaign, with tens of thousands of Iron Cavalry from the Rouran; Xiazhou was already a difficult situation.

An express delivery of six hundred li at a time like this— a victory? Or a defeat?

Or perhaps… an accident?