Chapter 83: The Campaign for Yanyi (Part Seven)

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“The world is perilous and the road ahead treacherous; lofty ambition is hard to realize—what can be done?” Wu Yanyi returned to the Duke of Zhou’s residence as night was falling. He gazed up at the vermilion gates, turning over words in his heart for some time before composing a seven-character line and letting out a long sigh. He had spent the entire day negotiating outside, yet achieved nothing. His clan uncle, Wu Yizong, was a hunchbacked dwarf with a most hideous appearance but an even greater air of self-importance. Wu Yanyi had been left waiting on a cold bench for over half an hour, only to be met with idle chatter when finally received. At last, when the topic was broached, Wu Yizong dismissed him with a single line: “Let your father come see me.”

“Is Father in?” Wu Yanyi did not return to his own quarters but went straight to the main study.

“The master is inside. Please wait for a moment while I announce you, Second Young Master,” the old retainer at the door said, his voice neither joyful nor sorrowful, his eyes sweeping over Wu Yanyi with indifference.

Wu Yanyi felt a chill at his neck and turned away, guilty at heart.

After a short wait, he was granted entry.

“You little wretch, kneel!” Thundered Wu Chengsi the moment he entered. He sat behind his desk, face dark, flipping through a dossier, his halberd-like finger stabbing at the ground.

Without a word, Wu Yanyi dropped to his knees. Before Wu Chengsi could speak again, he kowtowed of his own accord, his forehead striking the floor with a loud thud. The barely healed wounds on his head split open again, blood seeping out.

“Hmph, at least you know your place,” Wu Chengsi’s eyes were cold as ice. “Speak. Why did you kill the old retainer, and later the steward by your side? What was your motive?”

“The old retainer was overbearing, insulted me, and I could not bear the humiliation. I killed him in a fit of rage,” Wu Yanyi replied, kneeling upright, his confession forthright. “The steward handled the matter, so I killed him to silence him.”

Confronted with such blunt honesty, Wu Chengsi was momentarily caught off guard. Seeing his son’s stubbornness, his heart softened. After all, this was his own flesh and blood; throwing a tantrum and executing a few servants was of little consequence. He scolded in a cold voice, “If you dare act so recklessly again, I will have you confined.”

“I do not dare,” Wu Yanyi said, kowtowing three more times before presenting a precious book from his sleeve. “Father, I have come with an urgent request. The Western Turks are to submit as vassals, and the Ministry of Rites, following precedent, has ordered a thousand cavalry to review arms. I wish to organize and train heavy cavalry…”

“Absurd! At most, you have twenty days. What kind of soldiers can you possibly train?” Wu Chengsi’s face, which had just thawed, turned frosty once more.

“Father, the key to heavy cavalry is not in training but in equipment and horses. As long as the funds are sufficient, I am confident there will be no mistake,” Wu Yanyi hurriedly argued, handing over a training manual. “This is the organizational plan. Please look it over.”

Wu Chengsi examined the booklet closely, squinting in thought for a moment. “If done properly, both men and horses clad in heavy armor, wielding axes and spears, appearing as if cast in bronze—this can be named the Iron Pagoda…”

Pagoda? Wu Yanyi secretly curled his lip. This hunk of iron was meant for killing; what did it have in common with a pagoda? Bald monasteries and the like were always so detestable.

Wu Chengsi ignored his thoughts, his face now showing approval. “It is rare that you wish to accomplish something proper. I will write a few letters for you. You must handle the arrangements yourself. You need to understand how difficult it is to achieve results.”

“Thank you, Father,” Wu Yanyi bowed in gratitude, having already tasted the bitterness of such difficulty.

“You may go. I will have someone deliver the letters to you shortly,” Wu Chengsi said, bending over his desk to write, waving his son away.

Wu Yanyi withdrew from the study, descended the steps, walked a few paces, then stopped. Turning to the old retainers by the door, he clasped his hands in salute to each one.

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The old retainers looked at him in silence, making no response. Even when favored by their master, they were still mere servants. As servants, their lives were at their master’s disposal. A single life weighed against a few gestures of respect—which was heavier, which lighter? They no longer knew.

Wu Yanyi returned to his own courtyard, barely having warmed his seat when one of his attendant maids burst in, panic-stricken. “Master, my lady—my lady has been killed!”

Wu Yanyi was shocked, leaping to his feet. “Killed? She’s dead?”

The maid nodded tearfully.

Wu Yanyi staggered back a step, his face contorted. A bottle of burn ointment fell from his sleeve, hitting the floor with a cloud of powder.

“Are there any clues? Who did this?”

These two maids had been with him since they could remember, his closest confidantes. How could he allow anyone to plot against them so easily?

“I questioned my lady’s hidden guards. After the incident, they followed the culprit. The villain did not cover their tracks well and went to Shanglin Quarter, the Princess Yiyang’s residence,” the maid’s grief only flickered for a moment before her eyes filled with hatred.

Wu Yanyi sneered coldly. “Hmph, hmph, so now Chang’an has become a nest of dragons and tigers. Every stray cat and dog thinks they can use me as a pawn! To hell with them!” He kicked out in anger, sending tables and chairs crashing to the floor.

“Master, do you mean…” The maid’s eyes lit up. “Someone is framing you?”

“Quance may be a scoundrel, but he’s not that stupid,” Wu Yanyi shot her a glance, his Adam’s apple bobbing with difficulty before he turned away. “Go arrange her funeral properly. Draw more silver from the accounts—don’t let it be too shabby.”

“Yes, on my lady’s behalf, I thank you for your kindness,” the maid said gratefully, hurrying off.

Wu Yanyi watched her go, then summoned a servant and gave him a few instructions. Soon, one of Wu Chengsi’s old retainers arrived. “Greetings, Second Young Master. What are your orders?”

“Follow my maid. Someone will surely try to harm her. I want to know who it is,” Wu Yanyi’s voice was dry but resolute.

The old retainer’s brow twitched, but he agreed in a low voice.

In Daming Palace, in the Penglai Hall, Quance was reporting to Empress Wu about the Ministry of Rites’ preparations for the Western Turks’ submission ceremony. “…As for the military review, we suggest following the precedent of the Langqiong Edict for vassal submissions: inspect the Thousand Oxen and Northern Division Cavalry at Hangu Pass. This can serve as a lasting example—first, to foster a martial spirit and improve army strength; second, to display our military might to foreign lands and warn potential rebels… After the submission ceremony, they will attend the Grand Feast of the New Year, then proceed to the White Horse Monastery to hear the Da Yun Sutra expounded, and to Zhongyue Temple for Taoist rites…”

“Hmm, barely satisfactory, but it will do,” Empress Wu said, resting her head on her hand. She changed the subject, “I heard you compiled a music score?”

“Ah, yes, during my convalescence, I did it for amusement, mostly borrowing from others. When the book is finished, I’ll present a copy to Your Majesty,” Quance replied, smiling sheepishly.

Empress Wu waved him off. “No need to present it to me. I have no patience for instrument solos. Use it to curry favor with Taiping instead. I ordered you to learn an instrument—how is your progress?”

“Official duties keep me busy; I have made no progress,” Quance admitted, blushing.

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“You do have a thick skin,” Empress Wu said with a laugh. “You have time to compose music but not to practice an instrument. Such perfunctory behavior—are you not afraid I’ll punish you?”

“I dare not,” Quance prostrated himself. “I am good at wild imaginings, often struck by inspiration, but my hands are clumsy and I cannot learn. Please forgive me, Your Majesty.”

“Oh? Heh.” Empress Wu laughed dismissively. “Very well, I won’t force you. If you can compose a piece within half an incense stick’s time, this matter will be dropped. If not, I’ll demote you five ranks and send you to manage the city gates.”

“To tell the truth, Your Majesty, I already have something in mind,” Quance replied, now emboldened. “But I only know the general melody, not the notation. It’s like being mute with words to speak but no voice.”

“Yaohuan, go help him,” Empress Wu said, showing a flicker of interest. Her gaze passed over Shangguan Wan’er and settled on Xie Yaohuan, then she buried herself in documents, paying little further attention.

As night fell, a musician from the Music Bureau entered carrying a zither and played the rough draft of the score. The hall filled with a majestic air, as if a general were assembling his troops and inspecting the ranks before battle.

“There is indeed some inspired genius here. What is this piece called?” Empress Wu asked solemnly after listening.

“The General’s Command,” Quance replied in a clear voice.

“It truly has no precedent?” Empress Wu asked with interest.

“I have long been absent from Your Majesty’s presence. Today, seeing Lady Xie, I was struck by inspiration,” Quance said, nodding to Xie Yaohuan.

“Yaohuan is but a woman, and yet she inspired you to write such a heroic tune? Are you simply trying to curry favor with her?” Empress Wu scoffed in disbelief.

Quance shook his head resolutely. “I dare not. Every word is sincere. Your Majesty is a celestial being; those beside you are not of the mundane world. If a woman can hold the tally of command in her embroidered sleeves, why must a general be a man?”

Empress Wu raised her brows, her eyes sparkling as she burst out laughing. “Indeed, indeed! Yaohuan, from this day forth, you shall be my lady general.”

Xie Yaohuan offered humble thanks, while a shadow of gloom flickered across Shangguan Wan’er’s brow. She could not fathom Quance’s intentions, but sensed there was deeper meaning. She followed up, “Yaohuan has always been spirited. Many palace ladies are also strong-willed. If they are drilled and equipped, and perform in martial attire, they will surely revive the heroic spirit of women.”

Empress Wu was delighted and nodded in agreement.

Quance offered his congratulations to Xie Yaohuan, his face full of sincerity.