In the ink-dark night, two carriages rolled into a nondescript alley. Despite their opulence and spaciousness, the carriages only accentuated the alley’s cramped and narrow confines. Xiangfan City, the old stronghold of the Qing Party, was a place where wealth and status were sharply defined. The likes of Wang Linquan, rich as kings yet lacking noble lineage or official titles, rarely resided in their city mansions despite owning them. In contrast, the Lu family, whose patriarch was a Shangzhuo Guo (Imperial Pillar), lived quietly among the common folk alongside other aristocratic families in this alley. Their mansions nearly matched the grandeur of royal residences, while Wang Linquan’s main gate atop Laoshan Mountain, no matter how impressive, was merely the entrance of a wealthy household—never reaching the dignity of a noble estate.
This alley, known to the people of Qingzhou as Yangfang Jiadou (Sheep House Alley), was lined with powerful and noble families. Besides the flourishing Lu clan, it housed Minister Wen Taiyi, the eldest among the six ministry vice-ministers, and General Hong Lingshu, who commanded the military forces of Qingzhou. These three great Qingzhou families once banded together, supporting the Qing Party in standing equal to the Zhang and Gu factions in the imperial court. Alas, their rise and fall were both tied to these three surnames. As the old patrons—Lu, Wen, and Hong—fell out and drifted apart, the Qing Party dissolved, scattering like birds and beasts. Other noble families residing here also disintegrated, seeking new patrons to attach themselves to, their unity lost.
If someone had drawn near enough to observe, they would have noticed that the height of the threshold matched the rank and status of the mansion’s owner. These thresholds were much higher than those of ordinary homes, embodying unbreakable traditions. It was from such customs that the sayings of “matching social status” and “a carp leaping into a dragon” were born. Among them, the Lu family’s threshold was the most talked about by commoners. When the mansion was built, its two grand doors were carved directly from massive trees, transported whole, and then installed. The trees were so enormous that two people could not encircle them with their arms. It was said that many children had to climb over the Lu family’s threshold to pass through.
Ordinary people could only avoid the alley, unable to approach, let alone inspect the Lu family’s gate.
Standing beneath the steps of the mansion was a kind old man with snow-white eyebrows, holding a bamboo lantern. The candlelight flickered gently, illuminating his benevolent face. At eighty years old, he had already surpassed the average lifespan. Beside him stood his eldest grandson, nearing middle age. The man had a refined appearance and wore the ornate four-grade official robe of a civil servant, known for his integrity and virtue. However, as the year drew to a close, his duties grew increasingly burdensome. These days, besides presiding over court sessions, he had to visit superiors, entertain colleagues, and meet with young scholars seeking his guidance—each a trivial but crucial matter. Tonight, he had planned to work late into the night sorting through official documents when a servant abruptly informed him that his grandfather summoned him home. Thus, Lu Dongjiang, the governor of Taixi Prefecture, returned in haste without even changing out of his official robes.
The future head of the Lu family gazed toward the end of the alley and whispered to his grandfather, offering to carry the lantern for him. The old man, once the backbone of the Qing Party, shook his head. He had not told his eldest grandson who would be visiting that night. Lu Dongjiang, who had feared his grandfather since childhood, dared not ask further. This reverence had followed him even into his thirties, when he earned the title of Lu Boke. Only in the past couple of years, after being appointed as the governor of Taixi, had his fear somewhat lessened, so that he no longer trembled in fear every time the old man spoke to him. No wonder the Qingzhou scholar Lu Dongjiang seemed so lacking in manly spirit—his grandfather’s achievements were simply too great. Just having once served in the same cabinet as the current Chancellor’s mentor was enough to inspire awe in anyone.
The Lu family had lived together for six generations, but all had lived under the old man’s shadow. Only his granddaughter, Dongjiang’s daughter, could speak freely and laugh naturally in front of him. Others lacked the courage. The retired old man, still bearing the title of Shangzhuo Guo, glanced toward the mansion across the alley—the home of Wen Taiyi. It had been four or five years since they last met, one now in retirement and the other still in office. Not meeting was better; it preserved a semblance of harmony. Unlike with Hong Lingshu, whom he saw often, only to grow further apart, their descendants also came to resent each other. Not long ago, their families had even come to blows, escalating to the young prince’s attention. The prince, skilled in diplomacy, even went so far as to publicly apologize like a commoner. As the Qingzhou prince who watched from the sidelines, what fault did he have that warranted fifty lashes? The old man had spent his seventies in the capital, tirelessly working for the emperor’s peace, never feeling weary—until now. Truly, he felt tired.
He turned his gaze to the door rings on the main gate and smiled wryly. Lu Feichi had spent his life diligently making countless difficult choices, just to earn a green-painted, beast-faced tin ring no less grand than those of dukes and marquises.
Seeing his usually stern grandfather in such a rare mood of weariness, Lu Dongjiang grew even more anxious. Inwardly, he reviewed his years governing Taixi Prefecture—never slack, never careless with social graces. Now, with the imperial court vigorously promoting the imperial examinations, many scholars under his tutelage had passed the jinshi exams. As he pondered, the old man suddenly raised the lantern and spoke softly, “There’s a saying about this: the more elaborate, the more vulgar. It means that once craftsmanship becomes too intricate, it loses its original charm, becoming excessive. The same goes for people. No one dislikes a person who is polished and adaptable, but no one truly becomes close friends with such a person, let alone shares hardships with them. To get along well with others, you must know a few of their embarrassing secrets or weaknesses, so you can feel at ease and secure. You haven’t done poorly in Taixi—you’ve done too well, standing out too much. Our Lu family’s daughter-in-law is not a bad person. Though she comes from a modest background, she has managed the household well. Her dislike of your flirtations is natural. Your willingness to treat her with respect is commendable, but by refusing all social gatherings and courtesan entertainments, you’ve become an outsider to the bureaucracy. Do you really think that superficial reputation and a couple of umbrellas gifted by the people upon your departure will help you climb the ranks? Remember, our Lu family no longer holds absolute power in Qingzhou, and things will only get worse. While I’m alive, everything is manageable. But once I’m gone, your self-righteousness—thinking yourself the only sober one in a drunken world—will make you enemies on all sides. You may consider yourself an upright official, with nothing to be ashamed of, but your father passed away early, and your uncles are not capable. I’ve supported them for half their lives without success—let alone helping, they barely avoid dragging us down. When you take over the family, you’ll have to be like the screen wall behind this gate, standing alone to shield the family from all filth. You can’t afford to think as you do today.”
The old man, who rarely spoke at length to his descendants, paused, his expression somber. Lu Dongjiang’s face turned pale, sweat pouring from him despite the bitter cold, soaking the back of his official robe.
Before the carriage was seen, its hooves were heard.
Lu Feichi sighed softly, “Officials protecting each other—those four words sound bad, yet they reveal the truth of governance. Now, the three surnames of the Qing Party are at each other’s throats, each pursuing their own future, even turning to mutual disdain. How can they hope to last? As for Qingzhou’s chessboard, I can no longer turn the tide. All the gains we could make have already been secured. It’s hard to take anything more from Wen Taiyi and Hong Lingshu. If I couldn’t do it, you certainly can’t. But before I die, I can do one thing: bring you to another chessboard, where few moves have been made, and vast opportunities remain. Unlike the old board, where every inch is contested, even if the Lu family’s strength wanes, our descendants won’t starve.”
Lu Dongjiang had once secretly met with Chu Lushan of Beiliang on the Spring God Lake with his grandfather. Though he hadn’t participated in the conversation, his worldly wisdom allowed him to sense the implications. Moreover, his daughter Lu Chengyan had secretly returned from Beiliang, but Lu Dongjiang dared not dwell on it. Beiliang was harsh and unstable, and he had always lived in comfort, accustomed to a peaceful and secure life. Even though his daughter might become the concubine of a prince, he felt no pride—only dread that fleeting joy might lead to the family’s ruin. More than once, he had awoken in terror at night, yet he dared not question his grandfather’s decisions.
As the hoofbeats grew clearer, Lu Dongjiang summoned his courage and gritted his teeth, “Grandfather, even if the Lu family declines on the old chessboard, there’s still hope for a future master to reclaim lost ground. But on this new board, which might collapse any day, whether it’s me or someone else playing, the result will be total defeat. Are we really going to switch?”
Lu Feichi narrowed his eyes. Lu Dongjiang, drenched in sweat, didn’t dare wipe it. After speaking his mind, his courage waned, and he lowered his head, “It was my mistake.”
To his surprise, the stern old man, who rarely smiled at his eldest grandson, broke into an unusually cheerful grin. He patted Lu Dongjiang’s shoulder, “Dongjiang, I’ve been waiting for this day for many years.”
Lu Dongjiang looked up in shock. Lu Feichi gazed toward the darkened end of Yangfang Jiadou and said with satisfaction, “Blindly following tradition is no good. It applies to poetry and to life. If you never had the courage to say ‘no’ to me in your entire life, I would have died deeply disappointed. The reason I favor Yan so much is that she’s smarter and more perceptive than you all—knowing when to nod and when to shake her head. I’ve served in three ministries in the capital, and countless people have kowtowed to me. Do you know how many flattering words I’ve heard? If I visited the capital, even the blue-eyed Chancellor would welcome me with courtesy. How can Wen Taiyi and Hong Lingshu compare to me? Let alone one of them groveling before Zhang Julu. When someone eats too much delicacy, a simple home-cooked meal can be surprisingly refreshing. That said, at my age, I admit I might be getting old and forgetful. Ask me who’s standing fifty paces away, and I might not know. But when it comes to reading the times, I still see further than you. Besides, my gambling skills and luck have always been good. This final bet, I’m sure Heaven will grant me some favor.”
The burdens Lu Dongjiang had carried for years vanished like mist, and his spirit soared.
The old man smiled, “A wise bird chooses its tree, fearing only that the tree is not strong. Changing allegiance is like fearing a collapsing house. But Beiliang’s future is far from decline—it’s growing stronger by the day. In the past, when the branches were strong and the trunk weak, it was unwise to attach oneself. But now, with the trunk growing steadily, during my journey back home after retirement, I once discussed the world’s affairs with a man surnamed Huang. He said that if they could survive two visits to the capital by father and son, it would be worth outsiders staking their entire fortunes on it. I deeply agreed, hence tonight’s meeting and the Lu family’s departure from their homeland. The Lu clan has both capable and unworthy members. In the future, some will surely become arrogant because of Yan’s status after settling in Beiliang. As the head of the family, you needn’t restrain them too much. Select a few unworthy Lu descendants as sacrificial pawns, and help the new Prince of Beiliang make an example of them. Beiliang will likely remember this favor. To make a garden beautiful, pruning is necessary. Without sacrifice, nothing can be gained. There’s no such thing as having everything without giving something up.”
Lu Dongjiang, both startled and enlightened, said solemnly, “I will always remember your words.”
The old man, still holding the lantern, squinted toward the approaching carriage, his tone gradually quickening, “I hope that in the next political upheaval, the Lu family will have an old, stubborn survivor like me to guide the descendants through the fog. That is my greatest wish.”
Suddenly, Lu Dongjiang’s face turned pale with grief, “Grandfather, you won’t be coming with us to Beiliang?”
The old man sighed, finally handing the lantern slowly to his eldest grandson with a smile, “The Lu family has a new master, but someone must still settle accounts with the old one. To have a beginning and an end—that is also a kind of letting go. Besides, during Qingming, an empty grave looks improper.”
Lu Dongjiang took the lantern, which felt light in his hands, yet it weighed heavier than ten thousand jin.
After handing over the lantern, the old man seemed both relieved and sorrowful. Without turning his head, he pointed toward the eaves of the mansion behind him and said gravely, “Remember this: when one is under another’s roof, it is one’s duty to bow and serve. But never forget to lift one’s head and stand tall, for that is the fundamental dignity we are born with and must never lose.”
Quietly, the old man straightened his back, gazing toward the Beiliang Prince stepping from the carriage.
That young general, who had once refused to admit defeat after losing all his forces, had begged the high ministers for troops to rise again, standing in the pouring rain from dawn until dusk.
And he, Lu Feichi, had been one of those ministers.
The old man, now without the lantern, smiled faintly and slowly closed his eyes.
Lu Dongjiang gasped in horror, rushing forward to catch his grandfather as he fell backward, weeping bitterly.
The lantern crashed heavily to the ground.
When a person dies, the lamp goes out.
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