Chapter Seventy-Two: Calamity Hidden Within the Home (Part One)

When Empress Wu took control of the court, the Wu clan rose with her; yet even among the Wu family, there were divisions. The direct descendants of Wu Shihuo, Empress Wu’s father, were the closest kin—foremost among them, Wu Chengsi and Wu Sansi. The descendants of Shihuo’s brothers, such as Shiyang, Shisuo, and Shileng, were a degree more distant. Wu Youji, for instance, was the grandson of Shiyang, while Wu Youxu was the grandson of Shileng—both from the more remote branches of the family.

Within the grand mansions of great clans, the depths of intrigue are unfathomable, and the secrets within high walls are countless. The Wu family’s scandals have not been widely spread; history records only a single line: “The sons and cousins of Shihuo were disrespectful and discourteous to Lady Yang.” Lady Yang was Empress Wu’s mother. Because of this disrespect, Wu Yuancheng and Wu Yuanshuang—Empress Wu’s brothers and fathers to Wu Chengsi and Wu Sansi—were so shocked upon Empress Wu’s rise as Empress that they died in fright. Wu’s cousins, Wu Weiliang and Wu Huaiyun, were exiled and killed along the way, their surname changed to that of a viper. Another cousin, Wu Huailiang, saw the danger early and took poison, yet even his wife and children could not escape torture and perished under brutal punishment.

Such fierce retribution makes the meaning of “disrespect and discourtesy” all too clear. In this climate, the closest kin were not necessarily trustworthy, nor were the distant branches without opportunity; suspicion ran deep on all sides.

In Yishan Ward, at the Duke of Zhou’s manor, Wu Chengsi was now Keeper of the Seals—one step away from the chancellorship, wielding immense authority. He was in his study, secretly discussing urgent matters with trusted officials.

Wu Yanyi arrived in haste with urgent news, but the guards, all senior retainers of the house, ignored his pleas no matter how dire, refusing to admit him or deliver his message, their faces hard and unmoved. He could only pace in agitation outside the door.

“These old dogs, living off their masters’ power, I’ll find my chance to get rid of a few of you someday—teach you lowly servants your place,” he muttered furiously, losing patience as the study doors remained shut. Finally, he ordered a lackey to keep watch and returned to his quarters to drink and amuse himself, having lost all tolerance for these sly old men.

The conference in the study lasted until the moon was high. At last, Wu Yanyi was summoned. He pulled up his trousers, straightened his clothes, kicked aside a maid sprawled across the table, grabbed a cold wine jug, took several long gulps, and with bleary eyes made his way to the study.

“Father, I learned that a gardener from the Quance residence has been lingering near Wu Youxu’s mansion for some time—there may be secret dealings between them.” Wu Yanyi, drained in body and spirit, forced himself to speak but his words slurred.

Wu Chengsi was taken aback, then his brows knit in a frown. He was a man of strict self-discipline, yet all his sons were arrogant and debauched, nothing like their father, much to his irritation. “You wretched fool, mind your tongue! Get out, and do not return to my study unless you have cause,” he barked.

Wu Yanyi sobered up at once, his face flushed with urgency. “Father, every word I say is true. The agents of the Censorate have been watching the Princess Yiyang’s residence and uncovered this—there’s no falsehood in it.”

“You dare mobilize the Censorate to spy on the Princess Yiyang’s mansion? You have some nerve,” Wu Chengsi growled, his face darkening. He strode from behind the desk and kicked Wu Yanyi to the ground. “You little beast! Where did you get the courage? Have you forgotten how your third brother was punished by family law?”

Wu Yanyi slumped to the floor, unwilling to submit but silent.

When Wu Chengsi’s anger finally cooled, he spoke more calmly, rubbing his fingers. “You need not meddle further in this. I will assign someone to investigate. Wu Youxu is usually gentle and modest, not one for socializing. If there is truly secret contact, it is no trifling matter.”

He bent down, his eyes cold and sharp. “You may watch Quance, but do not act rashly. If you stir up trouble, I’ll be the first to deal with you myself.”

Wu Yanyi, unconvinced, stiffened his neck. “Father, I am already a general of the cavalry—I know how to conduct myself. What is Quance, anyway?”

“Fine, you insolent fool!” Wu Chengsi was livid. “If not for your surname, would you be a general at all? Among all the soldiers Quance commands, does a single one obey you?”

Wu Yanyi, stung and ashamed, emboldened by drink, retorted, “Hasn’t your current position come by the same surname, Father?”

Wu Chengsi’s rage nearly made him collapse. Regaining his composure with effort, he shouted toward the door, “Servants, bring the family rods!”

A few old retainers brought in a bench and the family rods, pinned Wu Yanyi down, and, seeing Wu Chengsi intended no mercy, began to beat him.

After some twenty strokes, Wu Chengsi stepped forward and the beating ceased.

“A minor punishment for a grave lesson. Go to your quarters and copy the Classic of Filial Piety twenty times,” he ordered, then swept out.

Behind him, Wu Yanyi’s eyes gleamed red, wild and bloodthirsty.

Chang Le Ward, Princess Taiping’s residence. Returning to this familiar place, Quance reined in his horse before the stone mounting block, gazing at the red-lacquered gates. The last time he was here, he had claimed the life of the consort, Xue Shao. This time, he came as a guest at the new consort’s invitation.

The doorman was unchanged; seeing Quance, he was briefly startled but quickly recovered. Skilled at reading faces and well-informed, he greeted Quance with a beaming smile. “Master Quance, are you here to see the Princess? I’ll announce you at once.”

Quance was mildly surprised; the doorman was unaware of Wu Youji’s invitation? He masked his reaction and replied smoothly, “Thank you. Please inform the consort that Quance is here to visit.”

“Oh—yes, of course. Please wait,” the doorman said, sending a boy to deliver the message.

Soon, Wu Youji himself came out to greet him and led him into the residence. Though the mansion was grand, Wu Youji lived in an ordinary side courtyard, not the main hall, and was served only by his original attendants, all familiar to Quance.

A heaviness settled on Quance’s heart. It had been only five days since their marriage—how had it come to this?

“Please sit, my friend. I have long wished to see you, but am less and less my own master,” Wu Youji said bitterly, all trace of his former ease gone. “I have also invited my cousin, Youxu—I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I have spoken with Wu the secretary before—we got on well,” Quance replied with a smile, turning the subject. “I haven’t seen Chongmin or Chongxing—where are they?”

“Once they entered the Princess’s household, they came wholly under her charge. I, their father, rarely see them,” Wu Youji said, his expression darkening further as he forced a smile. “But perhaps it is for the best. I have peace and quiet for now. Once the New Year has passed and freedom returns, we can go wandering together.”

Quance smiled in agreement, then gently broached a suggestion. “Uncle, the way between men and women is always one of communication and compromise—a mutual adjustment and coexistence. Some matters require a firm decision and much discussion.”

Wu Youji glanced at him, his smile sincere but spiritless. “Your honest counsel is noted, yet the Princess is always the Princess. Some things cannot be explained in a few words. I have no other wish but a life of modest peace, a few close friends to keep company, as your poem says: ‘Laughing, enter the immortal lands of Qinhao, never to die.'”

Quance fell silent, sighing inwardly. As an observer, he saw clearly: though Princess Taiping was forceful, as fierce as a tiger in action, she also harbored tenderness and subtlety. If one understood and responded to her, all would be well; but miss even a single cue, and happiness would be forever lost.

After a brief conversation, Wu Youxu arrived. With both men present, Quance spoke only of astronomy, geography, and the practical arts.

“…The cost of firing porcelain is high, and fine wares are few. I have heard of a method, called dressing clay, where the finest kaolin is mixed into a slurry and applied to the ceramic body, making it smooth and lustrous—producing only the highest quality wares…”

He had learned this in art school and mentioned it offhand, but Wu Youxu took great interest, pressing Quance for details. Wu Youji, too, was intrigued, declaring that if the technique worked, it could bring great profit.

Quance racked his memory, recalling every detail he could, while Wu Youxu, visibly excited, fetched paper and brush to record it all and vowed to try it in his kiln at once.

Wu Youji was already discussing investment and profit-sharing, but Wu Youxu waved him off. “You can talk business with him. I care only for the craft, not for money.”

Wu Youji saluted with a laugh. “Brother, your carefree nature is the envy of all.”

“It is only a mask for sorrow,” Wu Youxu replied with a bitter smile, recording notes without pause. “You don’t know—the other night, even my humble abode was deemed worth investigating. The turmoil was such that not even the dogs or chickens slept. Wealth has brought us to this, and still they cannot relent. Truly, what is the point?”

At these words, Wu Youji was righteously indignant, and a fleeting spark flashed in Quance’s eyes.