Hundreds of elite cavalry from the Lingshou guarded three carriages as they entered Liangzhou City. At the forefront was Han Laoshan, the deputy general of Lingshou. Following him were several riders, whose armor marked them as influential lieutenants who wielded significant power in Beiliang. This grand procession astonished the locals along the route, who whispered in awe, wondering what person or object could possibly warrant such a massive escort, effectively emptying half of Lingshou’s military leadership.
Among the riders, one stood out peculiarly—more precisely, stood out like a chicken among cranes. Amidst the sea of cavalry clad in heavy armor and wielding cold blades and sharp spears, this man alone wore the robes of a civil official. He escorted the lead carriage, occasionally glancing at its window with a smug expression in his eyes, perfectly matching the childhood description of Xu Weixiong’s half-sentence: “His brows hang with pride.” This man was none other than Wang Luting, the head of the Jinlu Weaving Bureau. His journey to the Beiliang Prince’s Mansion was no mere case of a minor official basking in sudden glory. Rather, Wang had indeed accomplished a remarkable feat, earning the full support of Deputy General Han Laoshan.
Inside the three carriages were no treasures or rare treasures, nor were they carrying auspicious omens for Qingliang Mountain. Instead, they carried three garments.
After the Jinlu Weaving Bureau changed hands, Wang Luting had devoted himself entirely to this project. In the rest of the Liyang Empire, the role of a weaver official was essentially that of a secret agent with official rank, serving as the emperor’s eyes and ears in the provinces, enjoying the privilege of sending secret reports directly to the imperial study with a five-hundred-mile express. Wang Luting, however, was a weaver official promoted by Beiliang after Li Xifeng retired, and had no ties to the ambitious Zhao family emperor. His duties included closely monitoring the martial arts factions in Lingshou, especially the rising influence of the Fish Dragon Gang. But more importantly, he fulfilled the literal meaning of his title—engaging in the actual craft of weaving garments.
Inside the lead carriage sat three women. The eldest was no older than thirty, and beside her was a small sandalwood chest inlaid with gold. The youngest was graceful and beautiful, wearing the ice-silk uniform of the Weaving Bureau. Her attire was meticulously crafted, her face adorned with a delicate application of fish Charm rouge, her eyebrows shaped with stone from the famed Xiniang Fasting of Lingshou, and her wrist bore a jade pendant carved in the shape of a Rock with a fish motif, a symbol of abundance. Clearly from a noble background, she contrasted sharply with the other two women, whose accessories were far more modest. Yet, while she was warm and talkative with the senior weaver, she treated the woman surnamed Xu with constant disdain, employing subtle underhanded tactics that never quite crossed the line into outright rudeness. No one could understand why she harbored such animosity toward this poor widow. Perhaps it was because the woman’s figure was more “lively” than her own, or perhaps it was because, despite being a rural woman with a child, she had drawn the attention of men in the Jinlu Weaving Bureau. One of Wang Luting’s trusted subordinates had even fallen head over heels for her, abandoning an arranged marriage to declare he would wed no one but her, vowing to treat her son as his own. Another promising young officer in Lingshou, barely thirty and already on the verge of becoming a lieutenant, had also been captivated by her, despite his family’s connections to high-ranking officials. This only deepened the young woman’s resentment toward the unfairness of the world, believing the woman to be nothing more than a rustic fox spirit.
She cast a sidelong glance at the woman she privately called “Fox Xu,” then turned to the older woman with a smile. “Sister Song, when I was little, my father told me he once visited Qingliang Mountain. He went with Governor Liu to attend the young prince’s birthday banquet. My father even said the Great General personally raised a cup of green ant wine with them.”
The older woman laughed. “A’er, everyone knows your father is the god of wealth in Lingshou. Being invited to the Prince’s Mansion is only natural. You’re so talented. If you go to Qingliang Mountain with Director Wang, maybe the Prince will take a liking to you and make you a female scholar in the Wutong Academy. Don’t forget about me, Sister Song!”
A’er giggled. “With your blessings, I’d be lucky to be a little maid in the Prince’s Mansion.”
Xu Qing, the young widow who had left her village to join the Weaving Bureau, remained indifferent to the banter between the two women. She still didn’t understand how she had been chosen by the Youzhou authorities for her embroidery skills, selected among dozens of skilled women from various districts to come to the prosperous Lingshou, known as the “Little Jiangnan of the Frontier.” She could only guess it was because she had once sewn undergarments for noblewomen in Youzhou while living in Daoma Pass.
At first, she had been reluctant to leave. Her son, You Song, was still young, and though the family had little land, it couldn’t be neglected. In the countryside, without hard work, there was no harvest. But the village head had insisted it was a great honor for the Zhao family village. If she went to the Jinlu Weaving Bureau, the village would waive You Song’s tuition at the village school and have neighbors help tend the fields. You Song could even live with the village teacher. Despite these assurances, Xu Qing had still asked You Song. The Sensible child, though longing for his mother, had patted his chest and said, “It’s okay, Mama. I can take care of myself. And when you come back, I’ll have memorized the ‘Three Hundred Tang Poems’ perfectly.”
Thinking of her Sensible son, a warmth spread in her heart, and a smile touched her lips.
A’er saw that smile and seethed inwardly. This “Fox Xu” wasn’t even that beautiful, yet she exuded a quiet allure that drew men’s attention. Try as she might, A’er could never replicate it, and eventually gave up in frustration.
Turning away, she turned to the plain-faced Song with a Proudsmile. “Sister Song, the three dragon and phoenix robes crafted by the entire Weaving Bureau—of course the dragon robe is for the Prince. The other two must be for the two princesses. My father once dined with a senior steward of the Lu family. He said the Lu girl might not become the primary consort, but the tradition of one primary and three secondary consorts has long been established in the Liyang royal family. Even if she’s not the primary, she’ll still be the first among the secondary consorts. The Wang girl from Spring God Lake will have to come later. Sister Song, this is just between us. If you let it slip, there’ll be big trouble.”
The older woman understood that even the smallest matters of the royal family were more important than the greatest affairs of commoners. Startled, she grew even more respectful of A’er, who, by rights, was her subordinate. She wondered if she should adjust her attitude during this Prince’s Mansionvisit to make up for past mistakes.
The Jinlu Weaving Bureau was on par with the major weaving bureaus of the Liyang Empire. Of its three workshops, only the Imperial Edict loom room was inactive, while the other two functioned identically. She, a government artisan registered in the bureau, and others like Xu Qing, temporary civilian workers, totaled over six hundred people, with over four hundred looms. Director Wang Luting was said to be a favorite of the new Liang King, though she wasn’t sure how true that was. What she did know was that both the local authorities and the Fish Dragon Gang treated Wang with great respect, making the Weaving Bureau’s operations in Lingshou smooth and prosperous, unlike the days under Li Xifeng, when the bureau had been neglected and looked down upon.
She had no desire to join A’er in ostracizing Xu Qing, for she harbored a secret. Once, she had seen Director Wang scolding someone in a secluded area. The one being scolded was a military commander with half a district’s troops under his command, a well-respected scion of a martial family, older than Wang himself. At first, the commander had tried to argue, but whatever Wang had said had made his face pale. When he left, he looked like a withered eggplant, utterly defeated. Since then, the commander had never returned to the Jinlu Weaving Bureau to harass Xu Qing. She secretly guessed that Xu Qing was either Wang Luting’s secret lover or the protected concubine of some powerful figure in Lingshou. Otherwise, how could a rural girl from Youzhou be so easily placed in the prestigious Jinlu Weaving Bureau, earning double the salary, without even knowing the truth?
Taking advantage of the two women’s chatter, Xu Qing quietly traced her finger along the sandalwood chest. Only after joining the bureau had she learned that some woods were more valuable than human lives, worth their weight in gold.
She had never understood this world.
She thought of asking the head artisan of the silk workshop for leave after finishing her task, to return home and check on her son and the harvest.
She recalled the garments in the three chests—stunning beyond words. The head artisan had once boasted to Director Wang that, under normal circumstances, even with full manpower and procedures, producing just one of those robes, especially the dragon robe for the Beiliang King, would take three years, and might still not match the quality of the Jinlu Weaving Bureau’s work. Xu Qing had no doubt about this. She had participated in every step of the process, from the head artisan down to the lowest craftsmen, each working over eight hours a day. The workshop was always lit at night, and her hands bore countless pricks. The dragon robe, drawn by a master artist, had nine drafts, each lifelike and awe-inspiring. She had only seen the selected one, afraid to even look directly at the dragon on the draft, as if it might leap from the paper and spew smoke and mist. As one of the many flower-pickers, she had worked on the robe, which used an unprecedented 1,800 threads of gold embroidery. A single mistake meant starting over. Once, a female worker she knew well had made a mistake and nearly been executed on the spot by Wang Luting, but Xu Qing had pleaded for her, and to her surprise, the woman had been spared, though she lost her position and was expelled.
Of the three garments, Xu Qing had the rare fortune to assist in all three, especially the black robe with golden dragons. With eighteen golden dragons, it was a rare sight of majesty. Even Xu Qing, a village girl with little knowledge of the world, dared to say that no other prince’s dragon robe, except perhaps the emperor in Taian City, could rival it.
As for the two future princesses’ “wedding gowns,” Xu Qing felt little. Unlike A’er, she never imagined herself wearing them.
The procession reached the foot of Qingliang Mountain, and Wang Luting breathed a sigh of relief. Twenty Weaving Bureau members had accompanied the journey, but not all would have the honor of entering the Prince’s Mansion. Each of the three carriages carried a sandalwood chest with a garment, guarded by three female artisans. Wang Luting had already decided that only one woman per carriage would enter to assist with the fitting. The dragon robe was the most important, and the artisan chosen for it was Situ Hua’ao, whose father had spent 6,000 taels of silver and countless favors to secure her position. Wang Luting smirked—did he really think that would be enough to dress the Beiliang King?
After dismounting, Wang Luting announced who would carry the chests into the Manor. The chosen women wept with joy. They were of good character, modest appearance, and simple natures—no schemers or troublemakers. He had full confidence in them.
Then, for the first carriage, Wang Luting’s gaze fell on the unremarkable Xu Qing. He pointed at her, said nothing more, and turned away. Xu Qing stood frozen. She had assumed Situ Hua’ao would be the one to dress the young Beiliang King. She was at a loss.
Wang Luting frowned. Under normal circumstances, he would have been furious, but with her, he made an exception, waiting patiently as she hesitated.
The reason?
Wang Luting knew more than most. This young widow’s background was simple, but the man who had placed her in his hands was someone even he dared not provoke.
General Huangfu Chēng of Youzhou!
That man was truly the Beiliang King’s most trusted aide.
Compared to that ruthless figure, Wang Luting was a mere novice in both political cunning and ruthlessness.
Wang Luting had always believed that this young widow was Huangfu Chēng’s chosen woman.
That was why he had tolerated her with forced courtesy.
What Wang Luting didn’t know was that even General Huangfu, upon meeting this young widow, had dared not show the slightest disrespect.
Xu Qing, heart pounding, clutched the sandalwood chest and followed the others into the Prince’s Mansion.
She didn’t even glance at the famous Tingchao Lake, which everyone in the Weaving Bureau had spoken of with reverence and exaggerated tales of its leaping carp.
Wang Luting slowly ascended the mountain, delivering the two chests to two quiet courtyards.
Finally, under the guidance of the chief steward, he approached a secluded courtyard higher up.
Not the Wutong Academy.
It was the residence of the old Beiliang King, Xu Xiao!
Even Wang Luting, with his strong will, was stunned.
He exhaled slowly, whispering to Xu Qing, “Do your job well, stay natural. If you’re too nervous, I’ll let you wait outside a while until you calm down.”
Xu Qing’s face turned pale. Clutching the chest, she grew more and more anxious, close to tears.
Inside was the Beiliang King! She had never even seen a county magistrate in her life. How could she not be terrified?
Seeing her panic, Wang Luting regretted his decision. He should have chosen Situ Hua’ao instead. At least she had ambition and courage, and wouldn’t be so timid. What was her little rebellion compared to the grandeur of this Prince’s Mansion, home to two generations of kings?
The Prince’s Mansionsteward smiled, showing no sign of impatience, but Wang Luting, well-versed in human nature, knew he had been dragged into trouble by Xu Qing. From now on, unless summoned by the Beiliang King himself, the Jinlu Weaving Bureau would find it hard to enter Qingliang Mountain again.
The steward, of course, had no intention of holding a grudge against the young woman. But in the mind of this great figure of Beiliang, Wang Luting’s actions had indeed left a negative impression of the Jinlu Weaving Bureau and the Wang family.
Wang Luting sighed inwardly as Xu Qing’s anxiety only grew.
The steward gave Wang a sidelong glance, then turned to Xu Qing with a gentle smile. “Don’t worry, young lady. Our Prince is the kindest man in the world. If you make a mistake, it’s not a big deal. Want to make a bet? If Prince says anything harsh to you, I’ll give you ten taels when you come out. But if Prince is as kind as I say, you’ll owe me ten taels. Deal?”
Xu Qing relaxed a little, nodding, her hands no longer trembling.
The steward smiled, opened the courtyard gate for her, and gently closed it behind her.
Inside, Xu Qing saw a young figure standing alone beneath a loquat tree still green in autumn.
The tree stood alone.
So did he.
She blinked, thinking she was seeing things. But blinking again, she still couldn’t believe her eyes.
His figure—it reminded her so much of that young nobleman who had passed through Daoma Pass twice.
He turned around.
Xu Qing felt relieved at once—but then she saw his eyes, and her heart sank again.
His face was different, but his eyes were too familiar.
She was stunned.
She knew it couldn’t be him. But in this moment, she couldn’t help but think of him. She missed him terribly.
Xu Fengnian was also momentarily taken aback, but quickly understood. It was clearly Huangfu Chēng’s unnecessary interference. But since it had happened, he said nothing more.
He approached her, took the chest, and said calmly, “I can dress myself. Wait in the courtyard. After an incense stick’s time, tell Wang Luting outside that the robe is excellent. And tell him not to leave the Manoryet.”
Xu Qing nodded blankly, unsure if she had truly heard.
Xu Fengnian turned and smiled.
As he stepped onto the terrace, a timid voice suddenly called out from behind him—her voice, the boldest she had ever been in her life: “Master Xu?”
He did not stop.
She flushed, sweat beading on her brow, strands of hair clinging to her cheeks as she shyly wiped them away.
She smiled happily.
It wasn’t him.
That was good.
If it wasn’t him, maybe they could meet again.
She still owed him money.
He had said fifteen hundred taels, to be paid over fifty years.
She wouldn’t admit it, even to herself, but the reason she had agreed to go to the Jinlu Weaving Bureau was because he had told her he was a scholar studying in Lingshou.
Inside the dimly lit room, Xu Fengnian donned the dragon robe, clearly violating the imperial dress code.
It fit perfectly.
Just like his father, Xu Xiao, had once worn it.
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