Chapter 904

Rongguo Mansion, Lixiang Courtyard.

Before the door leading from the hall to the inner chamber hung a half-worn gray silk curtain; Baochai sat on the kang inside, a small embroidery frame on the low table, half-finished and abandoned.

Her jet-black hair, neatly coiled into a bun, no longer wore the peony-shaped pearl hairpin; instead, a peachwood hairpin pierced her bun, giving her a simple, unadorned look.

She wore a pale blue cotton robe with faint floral patterns, a navy-blue silver-thread embroidered vest, and a plain white satin cotton skirt—her attire now held not a trace of luxury, only quiet elegance tinged with solitude.

The pale blue palace flower she once wore at her temple had long been taken off and locked away; though her skin still gleamed like ice and snow, her eyebrows still painted like a scroll, her face still radiant, her cheeks had grown slender.

In her hand she held a miscellaneous book, but she had no heart to read it—she merely pretended to, sitting alone in daze, her brow furrowed with sorrow.

Since Xue Pan was imprisoned, Lixiang Courtyard was shrouded in gloom; Xue Yima, who doted on her son, now wept daily, her son’s fate hanging in the balance after his involvement in a grave case.

Baochai could only endure her own grief and loneliness, daily soothing her mother, while growing more worn and weary herself, each thought of Jia Cong deepening her desolation.

Since the day she sent her letter to Jin Ling, mother and daughter had gone to the Prince’s Mansion to plead with Wang Ziteng on Xue Pan’s behalf; Wang Ziteng, upon hearing the details, hesitated.

He said the court was currently engaged in war against the Mongols; Xue Pan’s case involved military secrets, making it profoundly contrary to the times—careful planning was essential before any decision could be made.

Xue Yima and Wang Ziteng were siblings; she could not miss his implication—her brother was dodging, just as her daughter had foreseen—and her heart sank further into despair.

All she now desired was for the letter to reach Jin Ling as soon as possible, placing all hope on Xue Yuan; she counted the days daily, calculating how far the letter had traveled—each day felt like a year.

…

Xue Yima sent someone to inquire at the yamen, hoping to visit her son; but the Ministry of Justice said Xue Pan was implicated in a military secrets case—no visits permitted to imperial prisoners.

Xue Yima, terrified and shaken, wept again, then turned to Jia Zheng for help; but Jia Zheng, already overwhelmed by the Jia Yucun affair, was barely holding himself together.

Yet he could not refuse Xue Yima, so he gritted his teeth and visited Yang Hongbin; Yang Hongbin, owing Jia Cong’s favor, treated Jia Zheng with considerable courtesy and explained the situation.

He said Xue Pan’s offenses and evidence were clear; no interrogation or torture was currently needed—he was merely detained, and Yang Hongbin would see to it that Xue Pan suffered less.

Jia Zheng breathed a sigh of relief, returned to tell Xue Yima the details, and added that Yang Hongbin was Jia Cong’s closest friend; if he promised, Xue Pan would be spared mistreatment in prison.

Xue Yima, seeing her own brother in high office turn a blind eye, while her husband—though holding low rank—was willing to fight for her son, saw clearly the depth of their loyalty.

Though Jia Cong was away on campaign, his connections in the capital were vast—even the Ministry of Justice’s officials were his close friends, willing to lend their face and favor to care for her son.

As Xue Yima sat trapped in despair, witnessing this, her regret and dejection deepened—if only she had supported her daughter’s wishes earlier, they would now have greater backing…

…

Baochai sat alone in her room, lost in thought—wondering when Jia Cong would return victorious, when her third uncle would arrive in the capital, and fearing that with her brother’s disgrace, the family’s honor would collapse.

Once that came to pass, every hope she cherished would vanish utterly—her heart, filled with a thousand sorrows, tangled and unrelenting, threatening to break her.

As she brooded, footsteps sounded outside the hall; Jin Chuan called out: “Second Miss, Third Miss, Lin Miss, Shi Miss—you’ve all come.”

Since the Xue family’s troubles began, Yingchun, Daiyu, and the others, out of sisterly affection, visited Lixiang Courtyard daily, keeping Baochai company with idle chatter to ease her sorrow.

Baochai rallied herself, lifted the curtain, and had Jin Chuan and Ying’er serve tea; the sisters had barely exchanged a few words when distant, muffled thunder rumbled outside.

But this thunder was strange—not the usual few cracks that faded away, but one after another, unceasing, as if the sky itself were collapsing.

The sisters had never seen such a thing; their faces paled, their ears buzzed, the ground beneath them trembled slightly, and they exchanged startled glances.

They hurried out of the hall to listen—the rumbling grew clearer; the birdcages hanging along the corridor shook as the birds leapt wildly, squawking in terror.

Yingchun said: “It’s a clear day—why this dry thunder? And so fierce, so frequent—it’s unnerving. I’ve never heard anything like it.”

Baochai said: “Even dry thunder only rumbles once or twice and stops—how can today’s go on for dozens of roars without end? It’s too strange.”

…

Shi Xiangyun’s bright eyes flickered, then she suddenly exclaimed: “This doesn’t sound like thunder at all—didn’t you hear? It’s been repeating, over and over.”

Each sound is identical—how could thunder strike like that? I think it’s the sound of cannons. And who knows cannons best? Our third brother.

I’ve never heard cannons fire, but my third uncle has spoken of them many times—he said the Great Zhou’s cannons were modified by our third brother, far deadlier than any musket.

When cannons fire, the noise is immense, like thunder from the heavens. The number of blasts just now? Must be many cannons firing together—no doubt about it.

Perhaps it’s even our third brother’s doing—he’s always been skilled with firearms, and this campaign he leads six thousand Divine Mechanism Troops, reportedly carrying many cannons.”

Daiyu laughed: “I don’t understand cannons, but our third brother left for Tongzhou five days ago—hundreds of miles from the capital. How could we hear cannon fire from so far?”

You’re just making things up, Xiangyun—lately you can’t speak three sentences without mentioning our third brother. Even thunder gets tied to him. When did you become so fond of him?”

Yingchun and the others laughed; only Shi Xiangyun, guilty as a thief, stayed silent—normally so quick-witted, she’d have retorted fiercely, but now her spirit faltered.

Her face flushed, she muttered: “Who’s fond of him? He’s just good at books—everything else is dull and boring!”

But Baochai, as if hearing none of the others’ banter, suddenly said: “Could it be that Cong brother isn’t in Tongzhou at all—that he’s near the capital now, and this noise is his doing?”

The sisters all laughed, refusing to believe it; Shi Xiangyun seized the chance to escape her embarrassment, teasing that Baochai outdid even her in fantasy.

She added: “Our third brother’s been gone five days—how could he still be near the capital? He’s surely reached Tongzhou and crushed many Mongol devils by now.”

Baochai herself realized how absurd her words sounded—perhaps her brother’s disaster had left her too anxious and helpless, always longing for Jia Cong to stand by her.

How foolish—to imagine he was still lingering near the capital, as if he might return any moment—he’s a thousand miles away, how could he help her now…

The sisters chattered on about the strange thunder, their idle gossip light and soothing, lifting some of Baochai’s burden.

Yet behind their words, each was silently thinking of Jia Cong—though each cherished him in her own way.

…

After a while of idle talk, Yingchun, Daiyu, and the others, worried Baochai would grow more depressed cooped up indoors, invited her to stroll through the garden.

Now that Baoyu had moved out of the West Mansion and entered the Imperial Academy, the inner courtyards of the West Mansion were far quieter—the sisters moved freely without restraint.

When the sun rose high, Baochai had the maids set out lunch in Lixiang Courtyard and invited the sisters to dine together—when Wang Xifeng arrived.

She smiled: “I came to visit Auntie and Miss Baochai, but before leaving, I met Lin Zhixiao’s wife reporting something—luckily, I got news about Cong brother, so I came straight to tell you.”

Yingchun asked quickly: “Cong brother went to Beisan Pass—how could Lin Zhixiao’s wife know his whereabouts? What’s happened? Sister Feng, tell us at once!”

Wang Xifeng laughed: “Cong brother isn’t at Beisan Pass—he was just wandering outside the eastern suburbs this morning, and he fought the Mongol devils—and won.”

Shi Xiangyun cried: “Oh! So I was right after all—it was our third brother’s doing! Sister Feng, did he use cannons to beat the Mongols?”

Wang Xifeng frowned: “Cannons? Lin Zhixiao’s wife didn’t mention that. Her husband heard the news from men outside the city.”

“This morning, the Mongols suddenly attacked—thousands of cavalry surged toward the eastern suburbs. Cong brother just happened to be there, and he slew many of them.”

Many soldiers on the city walls saw it with their own eyes, so the news spread through the city—no mistake. Just wait—you’ll see, Cong brother will be celebrated again!”

Wang Xifeng knew Jia Cong’s patterns well—whenever he stirred up commotion, it was almost always good news; battlefield victories meant military merit.

Last time he went to Liaodong, he was granted the hereditary title of Marquis of Weiyuan. Now, fighting Mongols outside the capital? Clearly a great achievement.

If he gains another reward this time, the First Branch of the Jia family will rise even higher—and she, too, will benefit, giving her husband Jia Lian greater backing abroad…

…

Daiyu didn’t care about Jia Cong’s battlefield glory—she asked: “Sister Feng, did our third brother drive off the Mongols? Will he return to the capital now?”

At those words, Baochai’s heart leapt—she was terrified, lost and helpless inside and out—how wonderful if he would come home…

Daiyu’s question was also what Yingchun wanted to ask; Shi Xiangyun and Baochai fixed their eyes on Wang Xifeng, waiting for her reply.

Wang Xifeng said: “He won’t return so easily. Though he slew many Mongols, their numbers were vast—he couldn’t hold them back.”

“He led his cavalry northward, pursued by a huge Mongol force—no one knows what happened next. But Shi Ding has already led troops out of the city to reinforce him.”

“Don’t worry too much—Cong brother’s abilities are great. Has he ever failed? Have you ever seen him lose? This time will be no different.”

Shi Xiangyun cried urgently: “If my third uncle knows our third brother’s plight, I’m going straight back to my mansion—I’ll wait there until he returns, I must know if my third brother is safe!”