Chapter 86: Father-in-Law and Son-in-Law, or Father-in-Law and Daughter-in-Law

As for the tardy arrival of the Du family, Du Shiyi paid it no mind. After leading Lu Wangzhi out of the mourning hall, he brought him to a quiet courtyard at the northwest corner, ordered a few simple dishes and yellow rice, and only then sat down with him. Regarding the sudden bereavement in the Cui family, Lu Wangzhi did not dwell on it, merely relaying Lu Hong’s instructions concisely. When he saw Du Shiyi’s look of astonishment, he took a small bamboo tube from his sleeve and set it before him.

“This is…”

“A letter from your uncle, sent from Youzhou. It was delivered straight to the county office in Dengfeng, so I brought it along for you. Who would have thought you’d be on your way escorting the Eleventh Lord Cui to the Eastern Capital and we’d miss each other? Since Master Lu wanted me or our third junior to visit the Cui residence in the Eastern Capital, I left third junior, that iron-faced censor, to watch over the straw hut, and made the trip myself. Oh, and the books you copied at the straw hut—Master Lu instructed me to bring them for you as well. He said, since you’ve come to the Eastern Capital, don’t rush back. Next year is an examination year; you might as well participate in the selection at the Jingzhao Prefecture.”

Du Shiyi was momentarily stunned. Reflecting on his year of diligent practice, he was silent for a long time before nodding. “Please convey my utmost gratitude to Master Lu. I will do my very best.”

Seeing that Du Shiyi was in no hurry to open the letter, Lu Wangzhi, recalling the hardships endured by Du Shiyi and Thirteenth Lady Du over the years and how rarely they spoke of this uncle, Du Fu, realized that this was the very first letter from him. With a yawn, he said, “Anyway, the letter’s delivered—read it or not, as you wish. Ah, there’s one more thing. It’s not really important, but I’ll tell you anyway. After you and Eleventh Lord left, Master Lu, on a whim, cast a divination. I don’t know what the result was, but his face was quite grim. He said it wasn’t for the Dowager Lady but for the two of you. These are mysterious arts—believe it or not, as you will.”

Du Shiyi was amused by Lu Wangzhi’s casual tone. Watching his senior wolf down the food and then, stretching, saunter over to the long couch in the corner to lie down fully clothed, Du could not help but think how this fellow would always choose to lie down in the hut if possible, never sitting if he could help it, and as for tidying up, that was always left to himself and Cui Jianxuan. Whatever resentments had arisen in his heart from Lu Hong’s message and this letter from Du Fu were, without his realizing it, cast to the winds.

To him, Master Lu Hong was far closer than his uncle Du Fu.

He had sent a letter to Xiping in Xianzhou before leaving the Eastern Capital in the second month, but since then had received not a word. Whether the message had been lost in transit or Du Fu simply ignored it, he did not know. Only now, at the end of the twelfth month, had a letter finally arrived. After having the dishes cleared away, he broke the seal on the bamboo tube and took out a small rolled sheet. The calligraphy was vigorous, evidently modeled after Ouyang Xun, and its tone was equally cold and admonitory.

It began with a brief note that he had been reassigned as assistant magistrate of Yuyang in Youzhou, that official duties kept him busy, and he would not be able to return home. Then came the exhortation: as a son of the Du family, Du Shiyi must strive for self-improvement and uphold the family’s reputation—without a single word for Thirteenth Lady. Only at the end did Du Fu answer Du Shiyi’s previous inquiry about Pei Min.

“When the former Princess Gu’an was married to the Khitan King and arrived in Youzhou, General Pei of the Beiping Army escorted her. In the Khitan camp, there was an archery contest; General Pei’s arrows never missed, striking awe into the gathered northern tribes. He still commands the Beiping Army.”

Du Shiyi let the admonitions pass as so much wind by his ears. It was only upon reaching the final lines that he exhaled in relief, knowing he could finally report back to Gongye Jue, who secluded himself at Shaolin, about Pei Min’s well-being. He replaced the letter in its tube and, glancing over, saw Lu Wangzhi already asleep on the long couch, snoring softly. He marveled at his senior’s ability to sleep anywhere, then quietly left the room. But as he opened the door, a hand nearly struck him in the face.

Startled, he stepped back to find, eyes red and downcast, none other than Ninth Lady Cui. Fortunately, she did not act as she had in the past to confuse matters, but simply lowered her hand and whispered, “I was about to knock. Who told you to open the door so suddenly… Father wants to see you. Come with me.”

Learning that Cui E Zhi wished to see him, Du Shiyi was not surprised. But that it was Ninth Lady Cui sent to fetch him, rather than any of the household servants, struck him as odd. With so many attendants in the Cui mansion, why send the noble daughter herself? As he pondered this, Ninth Lady Cui raised her tearful eyes and said, “Thank you for accompanying my brother home… Otherwise, when Grandmother passed, there would have been no one from her own family by her side—it would have broken her heart… Du Nineteen, for helping you and my brother enter the palace to investigate that matter, consider our account settled. Whatever favors you mentioned repaying in the future, you need not bring them up again!”

“Hm?”

Seeing the seriousness on her face, Du Shiyi thought for a moment and then nodded. “If Ninth Lady puts it that way, I’ll respectfully accept.”

Debts of gratitude are the hardest to repay. He would rather be free of them and, should the need arise, repay her with true gratitude then—he had no wish to be blackmailed by this clever girl in days to come.

Ninth Lady Cui, expecting him to at least offer some polite refusal, was momentarily exasperated by his ready acceptance. Her face darkened, and after glaring at him, she spun on her heel and stormed off without a backward glance. Du Shiyi was unbothered by her mercurial temperament, closed the door behind him, and trailed after her at a distance.

The Cui mansion was busy with the Dowager Lady’s funeral, people hurrying to and fro, none sparing a moment to notice Ninth Lady Cui’s flustered face or the leisurely pace of Du Shiyi behind her.

Only at the entrance to the main hall did Ninth Lady finally stop. When Du Shiyi caught up, she said coldly, “Father is inside. Go in yourself.”

After she shot him another glare and stomped away, Du Shiyi glanced at the unguarded hall and, with a wry smile at his own imagination, mounted the steps and called out, “Is Lord Zhao within?”

“Come in, Nineteenth Lord,” came the low reply. Remembering Cui E Zhi’s previous collapse, Du Shiyi hesitated before lifting the curtain and entering. The spacious chamber, more like a reception hall than a bedchamber, had its center occupied by a low seat where Cui E Zhi sat cross-legged. After Du Shiyi saluted, Cui E Zhi waved it off. “We are among family—no need for such formality. Sit and speak. This is where I grew up; I love its openness. The central space is wide enough for sword-dancing and hasn’t changed in all these years.”

Although Du Shiyi had met Cui E Zhi before in Luoyang, it had only been in passing, with the family gathered and only a few words exchanged. Now, sitting together, he could study the father of Cui Jianxuan, one of the twin pillars of the current Cui generation. Dressed in mourning linen, the recent events had deepened the lines on Cui E Zhi’s brow and etched weariness on his face, yet his reddened eyes retained their sharpness.

It is said that wealth rarely lasts three generations; for grand houses like the Cui of Qinghe or the Du of Jingzhao to survive since Han times is a remarkable feat. That both father and son could rise to high official rank was extremely rare. The founding ministers of this dynasty—Du Ruhui, Fang Xuanling, Wei Zheng—had all faded, proving how hard it was to sustain a family’s glory. After Chancellor Cui Zhiwen, the brothers Cui Taizhi and Cui E Zhi had always chosen their allegiances wisely. Cui E Zhi, especially, had dared to slip back to the capital from his post in Shangzhou to plot the overthrow of Empress Wei, and his achievements ranked second among the many generals and ministers. His courage and intelligence were truly exceptional.

“I wonder what instructions Lord Zhao has for me?”

“Nothing of the sort—just wanted to speak with a younger man.” Seeing Du Shiyi’s surprise, Cui E Zhi continued sincerely, “My wife and I have three sons and two daughters—you have met them all. The Eleventh Lord, as the second son, has an elder brother to inherit, and a clever younger brother below him. He’s always been delicate and a bit odd-tempered. When he began his studies, it was during troubled times, and I could not guide him. Later, I was away in official posts, and my mother and wife focused on the eldest, while the youngest was still a child, leaving the middle one to his own devices. So when we sent him to Mount Song, though we knew Master Lu’s reputation, neither my wife, my mother, nor I held much hope—just that, if he were lucky enough to be accepted, he’d at least stay out of trouble.”

Du Shiyi recalled his first meeting with Cui Jianxuan—sharp-tongued, quick-tempered, and willful—and found himself agreeing. Yet he could not help but speak in his defense. “That’s only half the truth, my lord. The Eleventh may have his faults, but he isn’t afraid of hard work when it counts. He proved that during the locust eradication in Dengfeng. In his studies, too, he’s earnest—Master Lu does not tolerate idleness. Even our other classmates in the valley are fond of his straightforward nature. He’s simply had an easy life and no setbacks.”

“If you’d said that three years ago, no one in the family would have believed you,” Cui E Zhi said with a brief smile, soon gone. “But now, even if you don’t speak for him, as his father, I can no longer view him as I once did. To see a son succeed is the greatest joy. I am grateful you accompanied him from Mount Song—he never says it, but he revered the Dowager Lady, and in his grief, who knows what trouble he might have caused, or what harm he might have come to himself…”

Seeing this father’s lingering worry, Du Shiyi thought of his own father and felt a surge of warmth. “The Eleventh Lord and I are as brothers—it was only right. No need for thanks.”

“I’ve rambled long enough,” said Cui E Zhi, patting his brow. “What are your plans—back to Mount Song, or…?”

Since Lu Wangzhi had already delivered Master Lu’s message, Du Shiyi answered honestly. “Master Lu instructed me not to return to Mount Song, but to stay and attempt the Jingzhao Prefecture selection next year.”

“Oh? If you’re selected by Jingzhao next year, you’ll attempt the imperial examinations the year after?”

Seeing Du Shiyi nod, Cui E Zhi continued without hesitation, “In that case, my elder brother and I will be observing mourning here in the Eastern Capital, and our house in the capital will be empty. If you need to go to Chang’an, stay there. Fanchuan is pleasant, but it’s twenty li from the city—hardly convenient, especially when calling on ministers and nobles. Having a proper address will help you immensely. Don’t decline—your loyalty to the Eleventh Lord deserves no less. With the year’s end approaching and the roads icy, stay here through the New Year, and return to Chang’an afterwards.”

Given Cui E Zhi’s warmth and the genuine inconvenience of traveling from Fanchuan to Chang’an, Du Shiyi could only accept with heartfelt thanks. But then Cui E Zhi asked, “Aside from Thirteenth Lady, you only have one paternal uncle?”

“There are several uncles and other close relatives.”

“Oh? Good!”

Du Shiyi was puzzled by this sudden remark, but before he could ponder it, Cui E Zhi stood. “I heard from the Eleventh Lord that you both studied swordsmanship under a certain Master Gongye at Shaolin?”

Knowing that Cui Jianxuan would have volunteered this even unsolicited, Du Shiyi admitted it. But what followed astonished him.

“Families like the Cui and Du clans may not be as martial as military households, but aside from Confucian learning, we must not be helpless in self-defense. I won my office by scholarship, but I am skilled in arms as well. Though my vitality is now diminished, I still have trusted men expert in such matters. Would you care to test your skills here?”

“Here?”

Du Shiyi was caught off guard, but as Cui E Zhi clapped his hands, a burly, black-clad man stepped from the shadows. Suddenly alert, Du Shiyi remembered how, each time he’d returned to Mount Song or visited Shaolin to consult Gongye Jue, he’d been told his swordplay was fit for performance but not battle. After a moment’s thought, he rose.

“Very well, I’ll do my best.”

No sooner had he spoken than Cui E Zhi pressed a spot beneath his seat and drew forth a sword, its blade gleaming like autumn water, and handed it to him with practiced ease. No wonder he claimed some skill—his movements made it plain. Taking the sword, Du Shiyi drew a deep breath, recalling the Rainbow-Through-the-Clouds sword technique he had practiced so diligently. But before he could begin, a flash of cold steel swept toward him.

Though they had said it would be a test, the sudden attack, and the palpable killing intent, took him by surprise. Instinctively, he sidestepped, parried with a slanting thrust, and executed the Rainbow’s First Glimpse.

Before he could finish the sequence, the black-clad man pressed on, blocking his blade and charging in, body and weapon alike. Du Shiyi, who had only ever sparred with Cui Jianxuan, realized he could not possibly fend off such an attack in time. Drawing a deep breath, he abruptly discarded his sword, flicked it with his toe toward his attacker, then retreated rapidly, hands reaching for his waist as he moved in to grapple.

“Enough!”

At this shout, the black-clad man abruptly halted his strike and retreated behind a pillar with impossible speed, vanishing as if he had never been. Du Shiyi, shaken, realized he was drenched in sweat.

“Why did you dare face a steel blade empty-handed? Are you truly so fearless?”

“With the blade upon me, I simply wanted to see if I could outwit my opponent.” Du Shiyi, hands now holding a pair of copper grips, gave a wry smile. “I learned this with the Eleventh Lord, but I have little confidence in my success.”

“I see.” Cui E Zhi studied the copper grips for a while, and then noticed the two small pouches at Du Shiyi’s waist—realizing how he had snatched them up in that critical moment. He motioned Du Shiyi to sit, then seated himself.

“Without real opponents, swordplay is mere show. You have courage, but the Eleventh Lord is no true test of your skill.” He looked toward the pillar. “Chibi, who followed me in my secret return to the capital and later in the rebellion, is the finest fighter among my men. In the coming days, when you practice early, let him spar with you. His attacks are fierce, but he can restrain himself; it will be as if you face a real foe.”

Now understanding the black-clad man’s background, Du Shiyi was delighted and bowed deeply. “Thank you, Lord Zhao!”

“Don’t call me Lord Zhao—too formal!” Cui E Zhi shook his head kindly, then said with a trace of sternness, “You and the Dowager Lady share the same clan. In future, call me Uncle!”

After keeping Du Shiyi a while longer, Cui E Zhi finally let him go and sat in thought. Du Shiyi was indeed admirable, but so too was Thirteenth Lady, clever and steadfast, just as his mother had said—whether as son-in-law or daughter-in-law, they were both blessings for the Cui family. Yet Ninth Lady and the Eleventh Lord shared a temperament that followed only their own hearts—all his fault, for having spoiled the pair so much in their youth!