In the fourth year of the Xiangfu era.
Yanzhi County in Youzhou was renowned, its fame echoing throughout the Central Plains—especially in the romantic Jiangnan Circuit, the wealthy Guangling Circuit, and, of course, the imperial capital of Tai’an City, where interest in Yanzhi County ran highest.
The women of Yanzhi County were said to be as delicate as water—radiant without vulgarity, naturally enchanting and tender. Even those born in its poorest corners carried an undeniable charm.
Yet, among Yanzhi County’s many obscure towns, there was one small county where a former beauty, once listed on the famed Yanzhi Ranking, now lived in quiet seclusion.
Pei Nanwei, the supposed widow of the late Prince of Jing’an, who should have perished in grief, now dwelled in a modest but immaculate little house. She rarely ventured out, raising a coop of chickens and often sitting beneath the eaves, watching the proud old hen lead her brood of adorable chicks as they pecked and wandered the courtyard. Over time, though she found the routine dull, she came to cherish this uneventful life as true living.
An unremarkable young woman and a frail old lady lived nearby—one occasionally helping to fill the water vat or bringing small trinkets from town that money couldn’t buy: rouge, powder, hairpins—all of which Pei Nanwei accepted graciously. After all, what woman, rich or poor, didn’t wish to be more beautiful? The old lady, weathered by time, never brought gifts but visited often, chatting idly about trivial matters—like the new Shu silk at the fabric shop (though she quickly dismissed it as a scam to swindle foolish girls) or the ugly wife of the blacksmith’s son, Liu Yao’er, who had seduced a young man from the alley. She even complained about a kite stuck on her roof and the mischievous children who climbed up to retrieve it—one even urinated into her courtyard, earning a scolding at his doorstep.
Pei Nanwei listened patiently, though she seldom remembered any of it.
Then, one day, the peace was shattered by a boy named Yu Dilong, who arrived unannounced on horseback, a saber at his waist. His dismount was swift, his demeanor oddly mature for his age. She watched from the doorway, amused.
When he called her “Shiniang” (Master’s Wife), she laughed even harder, not immediately inviting him in. “Little bug,” she teased, “how many women have you called ‘Shiniang’?”
In truth, he had always called her “Aunt Pei” before. The new title didn’t displease her.
Ever since the infamous “wall-leaning” incident spread overnight across Qingliang Mountain, Yu Dilong had learned the hard way that loose lips sink ships.
Yet, with Pei Nanwei, he couldn’t help himself. Holding up three fingers, he grinned. “Just three! But you’re the first Shiniang!”
She feigned anger. “Why not just say the first part?”
Yu Dilong blinked. “Huh? Just three?”
She rapped his head. “You learned this from your master, didn’t you?”
The boy, dark as charcoal, chuckled and followed her into the courtyard.
Yu Dilong treated this place like home. Last time, he’d even discussed building another house once he saved enough money.
Two small stools always sat beneath the eaves. She’d considered buying a bamboo chair but decided against it—she had other plans.
Once seated, Pei Nanwei teased, “Little bug, what was your master’s first disciple’s name again? I forgot.”
Yu Dilong straightened, suddenly nervous. “Wang Sheng. Lü Yunzhang says it’s a plain name, but I think it’s fine.”
She pressed, “What if Wang Sheng likes your master but not you? What then?”
Yu Dilong gaped, bewildered.
She prodded. “Well?”
He scratched his head, staring at his shoes. “I can’t beat Master anyway.”
Pei Nanwei burst into laughter.
Yu Dilong quickly added, “But if Wang Sheng really likes Master, I’ll fight him—not to steal her, though!”
Now she was intrigued. “Explain.”
Fist raised, he declared, “I just want Wang Sheng to know—she can like Master, but Little Bug might still win.”
Pei Nanwei smiled faintly, gazing toward the gate. “Little bug, sometimes you’re so foolish it’s endearing, and other times, surprisingly sharp.”
The boy slumped, chin in hands, lost in thought.
She ruffled his hair. “One day—maybe soon, maybe far off—you’ll understand: loving someone who doesn’t love you back isn’t as good as mutual love, but it’s still luckier than having no one to love at all.”
Yu Dilong grimaced. “Shiniang, that sounds miserable.”
She chuckled. “Do I seem happy or sad to you?”
She added, “Answer right, and I’ll teach you how to win Wang Sheng.”
He hesitated. “Just… happily dumb?”
Pei Nanwei’s eye twitched.
Yu Dilong shielded his head. “Master said it first!”
She sighed. “You’re right.”
His face lit up.
She smirked. “But Little Bug, you might be better off staying single forever.”
Instead of despairing, he tilted his head, deep in thought.
Suddenly, he sat up and slapped his thigh. “Forget it! I’ll worry about it after I come back from Hulu Pass alive!”
Pei Nanwei startled. “What?”
Yu Dilong pulled out a money pouch, handing it to her solemnly. “Shiniang, this is my pay as a Youzhou cavalry sergeant. Keep it safe. If I die beyond the pass… don’t grieve for me.”
She frowned. “You’re going to war?”
He glanced around, whispering, “Can’t say. Military secrets. Punishable by beheading! I’m a scout sergeant—gotta set an example!”
He mimed a throat-slitting, tongue-lolling death.
She pocketed the pouch. “Fine, I’ll keep it.”
Yu Dilong stood. “Shiniang, if I die, don’t tell Wang Sheng I liked her.”
She grinned. “What if you live? Should I tell her then?”
He flailed. “No! Don’t tell her at all!”
She arched a brow. “Then why bring it up?”
Yu Dilong froze, utterly confused.
Pei Nanwei stood, jabbing his forehead. “Little Bug, with a head full of mush like this, how will you ever become the ‘Land Dragon’?!”
He sulked, stomping off. “No need to see me out, Shiniang!”
She waved him off. “Go on, get out of here.”
As he left, she suddenly heard him exclaim, “Master?! You’re here?! Is the war over?!”
Instinctively, she rushed to the gate—then caught herself, stopping short. She laughed loudly. “You little brat!”
Outside, Yu Dilong cackled, galloping away. “Shiniang misses Master!”
Now, in the cusp of spring and summer, the woman born of the Spring and Autumn Pei Clan suddenly recalled a poem—every word intact, though its title and author eluded her.
*Quietly gazing at green cliffs,*
*Leisurely watching emerald woods.*
*The oriole, with nothing to do,*
*Sings beyond the ivy’s shade.*
Green cliffs, emerald woods, orioles, ivy.
She remembered it so vividly because these lovely Jiangnan scenes had once been within her reach as a girl—so close, yet so easily taken for granted.
After becoming the Princess of Liyang, confined behind high walls, she grew weary of delicate poetry and turned to the frontier verses she’d once scorned—filled with soldiers, frosty moons, Qiang flutes, reed pipes, wild geese.
Now, Pei Nanwei looked around: yellow mud walls, sparse greenery, no birdsong, only the creeping summer heat.
*A sorrowful woman in a high tower?*
She’d need a tower first.
The thought truly angered her. Alone in this small county, her concerns were mundane—mostly money.
After finally reclaiming her long-overdue twenty taels of salary from the county office, Magistrate Feng Guan had been inexplicably transferred. His replacement, Yang Gongshou, formerly the acting registrar “Xu Qi,” now held the post, while the captain, Zhu Ying—like the new magistrate, a scholar from Qinglu Academy—remained. During their visit, they’d encountered the two scholars; Yang had even staged a clumsy “hero saves beauty” act, which “Xu Qi” saw through instantly.
*”I’m the godfather of playboys,”* he’d said. *”Back in Northern Liang, countless rich brats ate my dust, copying me poorly.”*
What truly irked her was that after Yang’s promotion, the registrar position wasn’t filled—instead, “Xu Qi’s” name remained, but with half pay, a compromise Zhu Ying had fought for. Otherwise, Yang would’ve withheld every coin. The clerks, sensing the magistrate’s disdain, especially their wives, treated her with hostility, charging her more for goods. The mysterious young woman had offered to shop for her, but Pei Nanwei refused, flaunting heavy silver ingots just to watch their envy.
*Bully me because my man’s away? But he left me this much silver—would yours dare?*
Her anger flared again—even Yu Dilong earned well, so why couldn’t his master send some home?
The thought of breaking an ingot into coins pained her.
Spotting the old hen strutting like a general reviewing troops, she stormed over, stomping to scatter the flock.
Pei Nanwei smirked, hands on hips.
A young man at the gate, witnessing this, stood frozen, sweat dampening the cloth bag in his grip.
Now called Zhu Ying, he was among the thousands of scholars who’d followed the Imperial Academy’s Chief Sacrificer to Northern Liang. Had he used his real name—Zhu Ying—his fame would’ve rivaled even Yu Luandao’s.
*In the world of Neo-Confucianism: Zhu in the south, Yao in the north!*
Grandmaster Yao Baifeng had resigned as Left Sacrificer of the Imperial Academy, returning home to teach.
The Zhus of Jing’an, however, disdained officialdom. Zhu Ying’s grandfather, revered as “Divine Lord,” had been close to Chief Sacrificer Qi Yanglong. His father’s generation—the “Seven Zhu Dragons”—had rivaled the legendary “Jiangnan Lu Clan, a trove of treasures.”
Zhu Ying’s true name was Zhu Ying—the Zhu family’s eldest grandson!
Even incognito, posing as a distant cousin, his brilliance shone at Qinglu Academy, where he’d humiliated visiting scholars, even reducing elders to seeking his counsel. Though little-known among the scholars, his writings had reached Prince Xu’s desk, earning Xu Wei Xiong’s admiration—ranked alongside Chen Xiliang and Xu Beizhi. The intelligence bureau codenamed him “Young Phoenix,” equal to Yu Luandao’s “Great Luan.”
Zhu Ying, or rather Zhu Ying, found his lips parched, unable to utter a word.
Unlike Yang Gongshou, who had been struck by her beauty at first sight, Zhu Ying had initially thought her merely striking, with no romantic notions whatsoever. But one day, on that rain-soaked Gulou Street, he happened to see her crouched by the roadside, breaking a piece of dry bread in her hands and gently feeding it to a mud-splattered, tawny kitten.
From then on, he could never forget her.
He knew that even if he weren’t the eldest grandson of the Zhu family, pining after a lonely, widowed woman was neither proper nor appropriate.
Yet he couldn’t help himself.
Just as he was about to speak, the woman turned to him with a frown and asked, “Who are you?”
Zhu Ying’s heart turned to ashes.
Over the past year, though they had never spoken, hadn’t they crossed paths fifteen or sixteen times, whether near or far?
His face pale, lips trembling, Zhu Ying couldn’t utter a single word.
He wanted to raise the money pouch in his hand, to explain that it was the salary of Xu, the chief clerk, and that as a colleague at the Bishan County office, he was merely delivering the funds to her.
But the utterly bewildered Pei Nanwei pointed rudely at this dumbstruck fool and snapped, “Are you insane? Get lost!”
She dashed to the corner, grabbed a broom, and glared at him with fierce hostility.
The young scholar turned away, heartbroken.
Pei Nanwei, of course, had no idea of the young man’s inner turmoil, nor that a single act of kindness on Gulou Street had sparked an inexplicable affection.
But even if she had known, given her temperament, she wouldn’t have cared. She’d likely have repeated her earlier thoughtless words: *Are you insane?*
Years later, Zhu Ying, who had risen through the ranks of the Northern Liang court, would inexplicably betray the Liang faction at the height of its power. As the Vice Minister of Personnel, renowned for his “unyielding integrity,” he repeatedly blocked the promotions of the Liang faction’s rising stars. No one understood why “Iron Vice Minister” Zhu Ying acted this way, why he knowingly defied the tide, ensuring his career would stall at the vice-ministerial level.
Soon after reaching the rank of Vice Minister, Zhu Ying abandoned the opportunity his family had secured through alliances with multiple factions, declined a transfer to the Ministry of Rites as Minister, and resigned without returning home. Instead, he went to the Northern Liang, a land teeming with political enemies, and established his own school in Youzhou, becoming a master of Neo-Confucianism whose reputation rivaled that of Yao Baifeng from the previous dynasty.
In his later years, Zhu Ying took a concubine in Youzhou’s Yanzhi County—a young, beautiful woman in the bloom of youth, while he was already white-haired. This earned him scorn from the Central Plains, with some composing mocking verses like “A pear blossom crushing a begonia.” Zhu Ying paid no heed, living out his days in the Northern Liang, where the court posthumously honored him as “Wenzhen.”
Even after Zhu Ying’s resignation and death in the Northern Liang, the court’s factions remained locked in their struggle against the Liang faction.
Yang Gongshou, the county magistrate who had once overshadowed Zhu Ying in Bishan, thrived under the Liang faction’s patronage, eventually becoming the Military Commissioner of the Lianghuai Circuit. He maintained a cordial relationship with Zhu Ying.
While traveling to Youzhou to mourn his old friend, Yang Gongshou suddenly noticed the young woman in mourning clothes—her features bore a striking resemblance, about four or five parts, to the woman they had both seen years ago in Bishan.
The Military Commissioner, who had shown only mild sorrow at his friend’s memorial, was suddenly overwhelmed with grief, tears streaming down his face.
Meanwhile, the woman who had chased off the unknown “lecher” with a broom sat under the eaves. Soon, the old woman arrived, chattering away—though this time, instead of mundane gossip, she shared rumors of the war beyond the borders, saying the Northern Mang barbarians were on the verge of collapse. At Liangzhou’s Jubei City, the fighting had raged from last autumn to this summer, with countless barbarians dead. By summer, the sheer number of corpses would make Siege impossible.
Pei Nanwei listened absentmindedly, yawning, until she spotted the younger woman entering the courtyard and sitting on the earthen steps at their feet. The old woman’s gaze sharpened instantly, and the younger one lowered her head guiltily.
Pei Nanwei had often been called a fool, but a woman who could become a princess consort of a feudal lord was no true idiot—she simply couldn’t be bothered with most things.
Bored out of her mind, Pei Nanwei poked the delicate-looking woman’s back and asked with a smile, “Something on your mind? Tell me. Maybe I can help.”
The woman’s head drooped even lower.
The old woman hurriedly interjected, “Lady Pei, what could Little Yang possibly have on her mind? She’s just a girl from a humble family—”
Pei Nanwei smiled. “Oh, come now. ‘Humble family’? Her roots trace back to Qingliang Mountain. Even *that guy* might have heard of her name. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be sitting here with you, Granny. Today, let’s just be ordinary neighbors—no Fushui Room, no Falconry House, no feudal lords or Qingliang Mountain. Just some harmless girl talk. As long as the three of us keep it to ourselves, who’ll know? Little Yang… let’s assume your surname is Yang for now. Go on, tell me. If you’ve fallen for someone, Sister Pei and Granny Zhao will help you scheme.”
The young female assassin looked up nervously at the old woman, who sighed and nodded. “Just this once. No next time!”
The girl whispered timidly, “Sister Pei, I like…”
She couldn’t continue.
The old woman scowled. “Magistrate Yang Gongshou? A pretty face who calls himself the ‘Sword Immortal of Poetry.’ Last year, he spent twenty-six taels to hire someone to perform in front of the prince and you—how shameless! You must be blind to fancy such a spoiled noble brat!”
The young woman pressed her lips together, resentful but too afraid to argue.
Pei Nanwei, however, found this amusing and encouraged the girl. “This is the ‘scholar and beauty’ pairing from the books! It’s lovely. Little Yang, don’t let Granny scare you. Even if you share the same surname, outside the Northern Liang—especially in places like Jiangnan, where scholarly families abound—it might be tricky. Why? Because before the Qin dynasty, same-surname marriages weren’t forbidden. But after Qin, they were banned. It became an unwritten rule that scholars love to enforce. But after the fall of the Eight Kingdoms and the Ten Great Families, people stopped caring so much. Still, that Magistrate Yang probably comes from a Central Plains clan. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been sent here or risen so quickly. So, Little Yang, if your family doesn’t mind, you might want to temporarily change your surname…”
From marriage customs to Central Plains clan traditions, from harem intrigues to maternal prestige and the distant lives of titled noblewomen, Pei Nanwei—once groomed by the highborn Pei family—explained everything with effortless clarity. The young woman listened raptly, and even the initially skeptical old woman found herself engrossed.
Pei Nanwei spoke with fervor, the young assassin listened with shining eyes, and the old woman nodded repeatedly.
Especially when Pei Nanwei taught the girl how to pose as a fallen noblewoman—how to enunciate, which books to read, how to feign shyness when speaking to a man she fancied. The two spies, young and old, were awestruck, realizing that when it came to being a woman, Pei Nanwei was truly a grandmaster. No wonder she was the one who could make even their prince “walk unsteadily”—the undisputed number one in the world!
Pei Nanwei, glowing with enthusiasm, was about to broach the most delicate topic of “cooking the rice” when a gentle rap on the back of her head interrupted her. A warm voice chuckled behind her, “No decent woman speaks so shamelessly! Your man clearly hasn’t set proper household rules!”
The two Fushui Room spies froze as if struck by lightning, then scrambled to kneel on the steps, not daring to breathe.
Their eyes fixed on the ground, filled with shock, reverence, and burning admiration.
*Ten years to cultivate Song Yu’s grace, a hundred for Xu Fengnian, a thousand for Lü Dongbin.*
And a human life is but a hundred years at most.
Pei Nanwei stubbornly refused to turn around.
The man crouched beside her and said gently to the two spies, “Rise. You’ve worked hard these days. From now on, don’t stand on ceremony here. Today was just fine—no need for stiffness.”
They stood and nodded.
He turned to the blushing young assassin. “Yang Gongshou, right? Don’t worry. I’ll help you. I’ll arrange a noble identity for you, but for now, you’ll need to stay in Bishan.”
He nodded at the old woman, who understood and led the overjoyed junior away.
Pei Nanwei still didn’t turn. “Is the war over?”
He sighed. “Jubei City held. The Northern Mang haven’t been crippled yet—their remaining 200,000 troops retreated in good order. There’ll likely be another battle, but victory is ours now. I’m heading beyond Ji Pass to meet the former Eastern Yue prince consort and a few others. I don’t trust anyone else to go.”
Suddenly, she spun around and pulled him into a crushing embrace.
Her eyes red, she cried childishly, “I won’t let you go!”
A muffled voice emerged from between her ample bosom. “Then at least don’t… smother me to death…”
Her face flushed crimson, and she shoved him away. “You—!”
As Xu Fengnian was pushed back, he flicked his sleeve toward the distance.
On the courtyard wall, Lü Yunzhang, who had been watching the show, was struck on the forehead and tumbled into the alley outside.
Wang Sheng, carrying her sword case, crossed her arms and smirked at the disheveled Lü Yunzhang.
Yu Dilong, who had coincidentally run into the trio outside town, followed them back, looking conflicted and avoiding Wang Sheng’s gaze.
Wang Sheng hesitated, then said firmly, “Come with me to the tavern to buy wine for Master!”
Yu Dilong nodded blankly.
Lü Yunzhang grinned. “You two go ahead. I’ll stay and guard Master in case of assassins.”
Wang Sheng’s hand rested on her sword hilt. Lü Yunzhang raised his hands. “Alright, alright. I yield.”
Yu Dilong looked baffled.
Lü Yunzhang shook his head. “Yu Earthworm, when will you wake up?”
Yu Dilong’s aura shifted. “Fight me?!”
Lü Yunzhang winced—he really couldn’t beat this “earthworm.”
Just then, Master and his wife emerged from the courtyard. Wang Sheng’s eyes held a hidden gleam of joy.
Pei Nanwei escorted the four to the alley’s bend before turning back.
As they walked down Gulou Street, only Yu Dilong, who needed to rush to Youzhou’s Hulu Pass, led his horse.
Xu Fengnian suddenly said, “Yu Dilong, there’s a boy named Gou Youfang on Wudang Mountain now. Keep an eye on him.”
Yu Dilong blinked. “Huh? Why?”
Xu Fengnian smirked. “Xie Guanying, Deng Tai’a, and the first sage of the Zhang family all count as half his masters. Soon, Wudang’s leader Li Yufu might join them. Need I say more?”
Yu Dilong gave a noncommittal “Oh,” clearly unimpressed.
Xu Fengnian snorted. “Lü Yunzhang, don’t even think of scheming. Got it?!”
Lü Yunzhang stuck out his tongue. “Got it.”
Xu Fengnian smiled. “You’ll have your own rival too.”
Lü Yunzhang perked up. “Who?!”
Xu Fengnian said cryptically, “Someone who might become the world’s third-strongest—and younger than you.”
His words proved prophetic.
The title of third-strongest would forever belong to a woman who wielded a blade.
Her surname was Tao.
Xu Fengnian glanced back and called out, “In three or four years at most, we’ll go to Jiangnan together.”
In the alley, Pei Nanwei—who had lingered unseen—allowed herself a small smile.
She spread her arms, fingertips brushing the walls, and walked back to the courtyard with light steps.
After all, three or four years wasn’t so long. She wouldn’t be old by then.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage