Chapter 908

Jin Ling, Xue family’s ancestral mansion.

Since Xue Yima’s family moved to Shen Jing, the grand, opulent ancestral mansion grew far quieter, with only the second branch’s residence retaining some liveliness.

The Xue family’s ancestors held only the post of Ziwēi Shèrén, a rank and authority far inferior to those of the Jia, Wang, and Shi families from the very origin.

Yet Ziwēi Shèrén was a central official closely tied to the imperial household, and the Xue family had been imperial merchants for generations, accumulating wealth and connections over decades—truly not to be underestimated.

Moreover, the Xue family had intermarried with the Jia, Wang, and Shi families for generations, their households intricately intertwined, rising or falling together.

This is why, despite the Xue family’s lack of official prestige compared to the three great clans, they still ranked among Jin Ling’s Four Great Families after the fall of the Du family.

Even the later-rising Zhen family of Jin Ling, though they earned the nickname “Half of Zhen City” through maritime trade, could not displace the Xue family’s position among the Four Great Families.

The eldest branch of the Xue family upheld the ancestral trade, appearing steady and secure to outsiders, continuing the family’s imperial merchant wealth; but the second son, Xue Yuan, though unassuming, had forged his own path.

Many years ago, by chance, he caught the imperial court’s attention and was selected to travel to the frontier to handle critical matters; though he held only a nominal post in the Neiwu Prefecture’s Guangchu Office, he was always granted an audience upon returning to the capital.

Outsiders knew nothing of the secrets behind this, but close relatives like Xue Yima and Xue Baochai understood a portion of Xue Yuan’s true standing.

Though Xue Yuan had never spoken a word about it, Baochai, with her keen mind, had gauged this uncle’s latent potential—enough to make her think of seeking his help from a thousand li away.

The Xue family’s ancestral mansion had weathered seventy years of storms, but through generations of wealth and repeated renovations, its interior remained magnificent, radiating the grandeur of a noble household.

The second branch, due to inheritance of family business, had moved to a superior residence ten years ago, returning only for a few days during festivals to reunite the family.

But since Xue Yima’s family relocated to Shen Jing, they feared the ancestral mansion, left vacant too long, might invite trouble.

Moreover, their son was a dissolute wastrel, unfit to inherit the family business, so they sought to win over the second branch, writing to urge Xue Yuan’s family to return and reside permanently in the ancestral home to safeguard it.

…

After the Lantern Festival in Jin Ling, the weather began to warm gradually, especially near noon, when the sun rose higher, casting warm, languid light.

In the main chamber of the second branch’s residence, beneath the south-facing glass windows, sat an elm-wood carved, soft-silk reclining chair; Xue Yuan leaned upon it, turning pages of a book.

Earlier, Xue Yuan’s old illness had flared up again, leaving him unwell; after months of herbal treatment, he had finally recovered, his demeanor and complexion greatly improved—perfect for leisure.

Beside the chair stood an inlaid mother-of-pearl black sandalwood tea table, holding a red-clay brazier with an iron kettle boiling water, along with colorful-glazed, silver-rimmed white porcelain tea sets and a clay tea canister labeled “Cloud Mist.”

Xue Baoqin sat quietly beside the table, washing tea and warming the cups, her expression gentle and serene, her snow-white skin glowing like jade, her features as if painted—suddenly dazzling, filling the room with radiance.

She wore a pale blue embroidered plum-patterned cross-collar robe, over which a snow-fox fur vest, tied with a cream-colored palace-embroidered long skirt, and around her neck hung an eight-treasure jade pendant with a golden lock; in the sunlight, she glowed brilliantly.

When the water in the red-clay iron kettle boiled, she lifted it and poured, the scalding stream cascading into the teacups, where premium Cloud Mist tea tips swirled and danced, releasing a fragrant, soothing aroma that filled the air.

She handed one cup to her father; Xue Yuan took a sip and smiled: “Excellent.” Baoqin smiled sweetly, lifted the other cup, and drank—father and daughter enjoyed their quiet moment.

At that moment, a housekeeper entered and said: “Master, a fast horse has arrived at the second gate, sent by the chief lady of Shen Jing, bearing urgent news for you.”

Xue Yuan’s expression shifted; he set down his teacup and swiftly took the letter, scanning it briefly—his brows immediately knitted, his face darkening with grave concern.

Baoqin, seeing her father’s grim face, asked: “Father, what did Auntie’s letter say? Has something happened in Shen Jing? Why do you look so troubled?”

Xue Yuan frowned: “A major disaster has struck Shen Jing—the northern military depots of Great Zhou have been seized by the remnants of the Mongols; now, Anda Khan has led his army southward and captured Xuanfu Garrison.”

The court investigated and discovered someone had leaked military secrets, triggering this catastrophe; Pan’er, misled, has been implicated in the case and is now imprisoned.”

Your aunt cannot handle this alone, so she wrote to me for help, urging me to rush to Shen Jing to intercede for Pan’er—this matter is truly dire; the Xue family has stumbled upon a calamity.”

Baochai’s letter details it thoroughly: Pan’er is impulsive and reckless, but this time it was not deliberate—he was deceived, an unintentional mistake, yet the connections are vast.”

Your uncle has only Pan’er as his bloodline; your aunt has sent a plea from a thousand li away—I, as his brother, cannot ignore this. We must act without delay—we must depart at once.”

Baoqin’s face paled: “If Brother Pan’er acted without intent, Father naturally cannot stand idle—but the distance is a thousand li. Why did Auntie not seek help closer at hand?”

The Jia family’s Marquis of Wei Yuan holds high rank and is said to be greatly favored by the Emperor; why didn’t Auntie ask him to intervene? It would be far quicker and easier than Father’s long journey.”

Xue Yuan smiled bitterly: “Your aunt and Baochai know this well—but the matter is inconvenient: Jia Cong is currently not in Shen Jing—he’s out of reach.”

Xue Yuan handed the letter to his daughter; Baoqin took it and read carefully, murmuring: “So he became Assistant Regional Commander of the Divine Mechanism Corps… and has already led troops into battle…”

…

Xue Yuan said: “Normally, the adjudication of such major cases involves complex procedures by the Three Judicial Offices, taking at least a year or more to conclude.”

But now, with Great Zhou and the Mongol remnants at war, the court seeks to eradicate espionage and, to set an example, will surely expedite this case—punishment will be severe, as is customary.”

Pan’er’s situation may be perilous; under these circumstances, saving him is like extinguishing a fire—you cannot afford a moment’s delay. We must settle our business in the next two days and depart for the capital the day after.”

Fortunately, our ancestral trade has been reorganized, purged of corruption, and now runs smoothly; with Xinchun Hao standing by to assist, your brother can manage daily affairs well enough.”

You and the son of the Mei scholar have already been betrothed; your coming-of-age ceremony draws near. Since I must send you off in the year’s end anyway, this trip to Shen Jing will serve as an early advance—help you become familiar with social customs sooner.”

Baoqin fell silent, her thoughts heavy; she had always traveled with her father, sheltered beneath his wing, and the thought of marrying far away filled her with unease.

She had met Master Mei only twice—he seemed refined and handsome, had failed the metropolitan examination last year, and now secluded himself at home, studying fiercely to try again for official advancement.

At barely twenty, he had already passed the provincial examination; among the sons of officials, he was top-tier. Baoqin felt neither fondness nor aversion toward him—parents’ decree, matchmaker’s word.

Her father’s sudden mention of her wedding stirred shy uncertainty; for some reason, she felt an inexplicable resistance to this journey to Shen Jing—no matter how good or bad, what must come will come.

This journey to Shen Jing held no certain return; she did not know when, if ever, she would see Jin Ling again. Her heart ached with fear, wishing she could vanish somewhere, hide away.

Just as her heart tightened with dread, a crack opened in the darkness—she recalled the carriage outside Lixiang Courtyard, where her cousin Baochai had boarded to chat with her.

A warmth rose in her chest, then she remembered the moment the carriage curtain lifted—the handsome youth, his face like carved jade, his eyes deep as a still pool, seeming to pierce straight into her soul, like a fleeting illusion.

Though long past, it remained etched in her heart; now it surfaced again, filling her with shame and trembling. She instinctively closed her bright eyes, her brows slightly furrowed, trying to dispel this demon’s barrier—yet could not quiet it.

…

Xue Yuan said: “Baochai mentioned in her letter that the chief manager of Xinchun Hao, Qu Dazhang, was once Jia Cong’s martial arts master. She must be concerned about his current situation.”

Baochai wrote two extra pages of letter, asking us to deliver them to Qu Dazhang—she described Jia Cong’s daily life in detail; Baochai, ever astute in human relations, truly is meticulous.”

Xue Yuan pulled out two sheets of paper and said: “Baoqin, find Jiang the housekeeper—she frequently travels to Xinchun Hao. Have her deliver these two pages to Qu Dazhang.”

Baoqin, still lost in reverie, was startled awake by her father’s words; her cheeks flushed faintly pink. She took the two sheets and hurriedly turned to leave, afraid he might detect her secret.

When she reached the outer corridor, bathed in the warm spring sun, she finally exhaled softly, walking slowly while curiously examining the letter.

Her father’s words had stunned her; she had read only the gist and not looked further—the final pages Baochai appended, she had not carefully read.

Now knowing it concerned Jia Cong, she could not resist her curiosity. She walked farther from the main chamber, found a bench beneath the corridor, and opened the letter.

The writing was her cousin Baochai’s—neat, elegant, the prose refined and dense; the spring breeze stirred her temple hairs, making them flutter wildly, like ripples disturbing her heart’s still pond.

Baochai’s letter was full of daily details, each word brimming with gentle tenderness; Baoqin read deeper, becoming absorbed, as if scenes unfolded before her eyes, vivid and real…

To Manager Hongxiu, Yujian:

My family has encountered upheaval; I write to invite my uncle to Shen Jing to intercede. Thanks to your stewardship, our ancestral business in Jin Ling thrives—I am deeply grateful, and my heart will never forget.

I recently learned that you, Sister, owe much to Master Yuzhang’s instruction; though separated by a thousand li, you must surely harbor concern for him. I venture to recount a few family matters for your perusal.

Master Yuzhang passed the imperial examination last year, ranking second in the top tier, appointed as Fifth-Rank Lecturer in the Hanlin Academy—his literary brilliance stirred the capital, unmatched among his peers, rare in his lifetime.