Chapter One: Secret Conversation

The ninth year of Yongtai, spring.

After several days of gloomy clouds, they finally began to dissipate, revealing the long-awaited sunlight.

In the radiant days of spring, the river tinkled, the grass grew lush, and orioles flitted across the sky.

"Meow!"

A yellow tabby cat, its belly round and full, yet still surprisingly agile, leaped out from the grass with a swish, vaulted over the moat, slipped through a hole in the city wall meant for dogs, darted through patches of verdant vegetable beds, and stopped before a somewhat old and dilapidated residence.

Though the estate bore signs of decline, its vermilion doors, glazed red roof tiles, and the elegant eaves peeking above the wall still spoke of its former grandeur, nobility, and solemnity.

The orange tabby, intimately familiar with the place, found the dog hole in the corner of the wall and slipped inside.

It passed through a courtyard planted with crabapple blossoms, crossed a winding corridor, glanced into a pond adorned with drifting lotus flowers—tsk, no fish—its tail swished in disappointment, and padded toward the inner quarters.

The pond and artificial hills, pavilions, and towers were all exquisitely arranged, each step revealing a new view. Yet, whether from years of neglect or the upheaval of the times, a sense of decay permeated the garden's flowers and scenery.

It was as though the place mirrored a dynasty on the brink of collapse, or a family long since fallen from grace.

Having wandered outside for most of the day without finding any fresh food, the plump orange tabby was left with no choice but to return to the place where the "little demon" resided.

There was nothing to be done. Though mischievous, the little demon was generous, always offering tasty treats—fish, meat, pastries.

"Ali! You're running off again!"

No sooner had the fat orange cat dashed into a small courtyard than it heard a familiar childish voice.

Sweet and soft, like a bite of glutinous rice cake, yet the cat's ears involuntarily twitched at the sound.

A hint of resignation and acceptance flashed in its round vertical pupils.

Here she comes! The little demon is here!

Sure enough, in the next instant, the orange tabby was tackled by a small body that pinned it down firmly.

"Meow!"

A pair of chubby little hands squeezed tightly around its neck, forcing the cat to stick out its tongue.

"You must be hungry!"

Oblivious to nearly strangling the cat, the little demon continued to play gleefully. "You haven't behaved at all! Mother said there are thieves everywhere outside, all searching for food on the hills. If a thief caught you, fat and plump as you are, they'd throw you right into the pot!"

"...You must be hungry! I saved you some roast lamb! It's delicious—we almost never get any. Nurse Fu said an honored guest came today, so the kitchen roasted a whole lamb. I only got a small plate, but I saved you half..."

The little demon, a fair and chubby girl of five or six, kept one hand around the cat's neck as she fished a packet wrapped in oil paper from the small basket at her waist.

Unwrapping the paper, she revealed a few slices of golden, juicy roast lamb. The distinctive aroma of lamb filled the air, making the cat—already panting—struggle desperately.

"Be good! Behave! No running off, and you'll get your meat!"

Seeing how hungry the cat was, the little girl chattered away as she finally released her hold.

True to form, the orange tabby did not bolt. It rumbled impatiently in its throat, anxiously waiting for the little demon to set the packet down.

Seeing this, the girl wasted no time, quickly offering the oil paper to the cat.

Meow! Meow!

The cat devoured the meat ferociously—there were only five or six slices, gone in a few bites.

Before the girl could scoop the cat up again, it made a flying leap and dashed away.

"Ali! Naughty! Bad cat!"

The little girl was dumbfounded, her large eyes full of disbelief. This cat had eaten her precious meat and wouldn't even let her pet it?

Unwilling to give up, she chased after the streak of orange fur.

She was so intent on the chase that she failed to notice she had strayed into the one place she most feared—the old matriarch's quarters.

In a flash, the orange cat scrambled up the courtyard wall, raced along the top, and leapt down the other side.

"Ali!"

Calling as she ran, the girl suddenly realized where she was—right at the entrance to the Hall of Grace, her grandmother's domain. She quickly covered her mouth in alarm.

Grandmother was the strictest of all, and liked her and her mother least.

Everyone in the family treated her as if she were too young to understand.

But she did understand!

She knew that her grandmother, born to an illustrious clan, despised her mother for her humble origins, and by extension, looked down on her as well.

Grandmother never expressed it openly, but the girl sensed the contempt and indifference that ran so deep it seemed to come from the soul itself—as if they were not blood kin but from two opposing worlds.

Perhaps the girl could not yet grasp the complexities, but she sensed, with a child's instinct, that her grandmother did not like her.

She rarely set foot in these quarters except when accompanying her mother for morning and evening greetings.

Had she not been so absorbed in chasing the cat, she wouldn’t have come here at all.

Realizing her mistake, the girl clapped a hand over her mouth and tiptoed, preparing to sneak away.

But just as she turned, she heard fragments of conversation drifting out, including a mention of "A-Jiang."

A-Jiang?

In the entire Wang family, only her mother bore the surname Jiang.

Were they talking about her mother?

Curiosity rooted her to the spot.

After wavering, she finally decided to stay and eavesdrop.

Tiptoeing to the steps, she slipped off her shoes and, clad only in white silk socks, crept silently up to the window under the covered walkway.

She pressed her ear to the wood and listened carefully—

"Mother, I have already presented a hundred gold bricks, but that warlord still refuses to lend us his troops. I truly don’t know how to move him."

"The warlord you speak of is no common brute. He calls himself a Yang of Hongnong. Though the lineage is unclear, the Yang family has flourished for several decades now."

A moderate clan, at least.

If they continue to prosper for another century or two, and produce a few more prime ministers and high officials, they may one day be considered a true noble house.

The Dowager Lady Xie, over sixty years old, born to a preeminent family, possessed the insight and poise that set her apart from ordinary women. She sat cross-legged, a string of ancient prayer beads in her hand.

"Yang Chong, eldest legitimate son of Great General Yang Qi, is twenty-eight and married to a Lady Li.

"Last autumn, the Grand Chancellor’s rebellion threw the realm into chaos, and the Yangs took the opportunity to raise troops in the name of quelling the unrest.

"Yang Chong started with only three hundred personal guards. In less than half a year, his forces grew to thirty thousand. Now, he controls entire provinces—Jizhou, Yizhou and others. He is a power to be reckoned with."

The Wang family, to avoid disaster, had fled the capital at the end of last year, returning to their ancestral seat in Yizhou.

The capital was in turmoil, and even Yizhou was far from peaceful. Three years of drought had already turned this fertile land into a living hell.

Luckily, the Wangs had their ancestral fortress, built up over generations. The stores of grain alone were enough to feed hundreds for three years.

But while they lacked nothing, the peasants outside were desperate.

Though the spring rains had finally ended the drought this year, the previous years of hardship had driven the people to madness with hunger.

With grain in the fortress, the Wangs soon found themselves besieged by mobs of desperate refugees.

They had two or three hundred retainers, armor and weapons, and the fortress itself—its high walls easy to defend.

Within the walls were fields, wells, and workshops, enough for self-sufficiency even under siege.

But the mobs outside grew ever larger, joined by bands of deserters, all casting greedy eyes upon the Wang stronghold.

Fearful and sleepless, the family lived in constant anxiety.

Just then, Yang Chong occupied Yizhou. On hearing this, the Wangs quickly sent an invitation, welcoming the powerful guest to their fortress.

They were willing to offer a hundred pounds of gold, requesting only that Yang Chong lend them his soldiers to crush the bandits and secure their home.

The head of the Wang family, Wang Lin—who now knelt before the Dowager Lady—had just finished the banquet and hurried over to seek his mother’s counsel.

"The eldest son of the Great General has no need of wealth," the Dowager mused, eyes half-closed. "For a man, there are only three things worth coveting: wealth, power, and pleasure..."

If he does not crave wealth and already commands armies, then what remains... pleasure!

Wang Lin’s wife, Lady Jiang, was famed in the capital for her beauty, hailed as the most exquisite woman in the realm.

"Mother!" Wang Lin leapt to his feet, as if stung.

A-Jiang was his wife!

A wife is meant to stand as an equal.

How could a true son of the Wang family offer his wife to curry favor?