Chapter Two: Shivers

“I know you cannot bear to part with Ah Jiang, but the Wang family, all together, numbers one hundred and thirty-nine souls. Within the fortress, there are also hundreds of tenant farmers.”
Madam Xie showed no reaction to her son’s low growl.
She did not even lift her eyelids. Her voice remained calm and gentle, as if discussing something utterly ordinary.
“Not to mention, this fortress is the foundation of our Wang family for centuries. Outside the walls, nearly a thousand bandits circle like hungry wolves, regarding our clan as their prey.”
“I, an old woman nearing sixty, may be bold in saying this, but I have already tasted all the glory and riches of this world. Even if I died this instant, I would have no regrets.”
“But what of my son? You are in the prime of your life, the age to build and accomplish great things. How can you perish at the hands of crude bandits?”
“And your nephews—fatherless now—have only you as their uncle. If you cannot protect them, what future will they have?”
Madam Xie stopped here.
She had said all that needed saying; she knew her son understood what must be done.
The choice between one person and an entire clan was clear.
“Besides, Yang Chong is no ordinary man. He will surely carve out a path for himself in the days to come. If Ah Jiang follows him, her fate may not be as bitter as you fear.”
The capital is in chaos, the realm in turmoil; it is disaster, but also the chance for heroes to rise.
Yang Chong, from his grandfather’s time, has been a pillar of the state, commanding the border, leading a hundred thousand troops.
Though the Yangs were Han ministers in the Great Zhou, they were highly esteemed by the royal family.
Emperor Wu once bestowed upon them the surname “Bu Liu Gu,” elevating the Yangs to one of the eight great houses of Zhou.
Under the previous emperor, Han customs were promoted, and the Yangs reverted to their original surname.
But the Yangs’ glory and prestige in Zhou were beyond question.
Now, the emperor is young, the Grand Steward has launched a coup, and the dynasty is on the verge of collapse.
Every warlord rises in rebellion, and the Yang family is among the most powerful and respected.
Yang Chong is the legitimate eldest son of the Yangs, and besides his status, he is formidable in his own right.
He personally leads armies, conquering cities and expanding the Yangs’ domain.
Should the north change hands, the emperor’s surname will be Yang; Yang Chong will at least be a prince.
If Ah Jiang follows him, she will be the favored concubine of a prince—perhaps even more.
The Wang family, meanwhile, has fallen. The once illustrious Wang clan of Langya can no longer remain in the capital, forced back to their ancestral home in Yizhou.
Wang Lin, the head of the clan, was expelled from the capital, holding only a minor, ceremonial post—a mere honor without real authority.
Even that, Wang Lin could not keep.
The Wang family was truly defeated.
If nothing is done, they will sink into obscurity, perhaps even destitution.
Madam Xie’s wish to ally with Yang Chong was not just to “borrow troops,” but to place an early bet.
If the Yangs seize the land in this chaos, the Wang family may return to the center of power!
Had she a daughter of suitable age—and if her looks matched Jiang’s—she would have sent her to Yang Chong long ago.
A daughter-in-law mattered even less; not of her own blood, Madam Xie felt no pity.
If the beauty offering succeeded, her son could write a letter of divorce, and the Xie family would adopt Jiang as a foster daughter, forging a convenient kinship with the Yangs.
If it failed, Jiang could conveniently “fall ill and die,” and her son could seek a better match.
Madam Xie had never thought highly of Jiang, seeing her as a seductress relying solely on her looks.
Now, with this opportunity, no matter the outcome, Jiang could be “dealt with.”
“It’s a pity General Yang did not bring his family to Yizhou this time. I hear he has several half-sisters and sisters-in-law. If our eldest son could become kin to the Yangs, it would be excellent for the Wang family!”
Though fallen, the Wang family remains a noble clan.
A noble surname is useless when it serves nothing, but invaluable when it does.
Madam Xie gently turned her prayer beads, thinking quietly.
Wang Lin said nothing. His fists were clenched, face flushed, veins bulging at his temples.
He was angry, helpless, torn, and hesitant… Finally, he slowly raised his head.
Wang Lin looked at Madam Xie. “Mother, if this does not succeed, I beg you to spare Ah Jiang’s life.”
Madam Xie’s fingers paused over her beads. “Very well.”
…
The little girl, Wang Lin’s only legitimate daughter, Wang Heng, crouched beneath the window, legs numb, yet she still could not understand her grandmother and father’s conversation.
First, it was a secret discussion; their voices were low, and there was a window between them.

The voices were faint, and Wang Heng could only catch bits and pieces.
Second, she was still young—six by nominal age, but only five by actual count.
Being a daughter, Wang Lin had not demanded much of her, unlike the sons who were taught from the age of three.
Usually, her mother, Jiang, would read her some primers: “The Family Instructions of Grand Duke,” “The Book of Songs,” and so on.
Jiang adored her daughter, teaching gently, never strictly.
In the past two or three years, the capital was in chaos, people anxious.
Last year, the Wang family fled, and Jiang and the elders were busy with household affairs, leaving little time for her daughter’s education.
Of course, Wang Heng herself was not exceptionally clever, with a hint of childish innocence.
“What are Grandmother and Father talking about?”
“Sending Ah Jiang? Where are they sending Mother?”
“Mother is Ah Jiu’s mother; this is her home. Where else would she go?”
Wang Heng’s fair, delicate face was full of question marks.
Unable to make sense of it, she simply stopped thinking.
Her chubby hands kneaded her numb legs, and Wang Heng tiptoed away from the main hall.
She went down the steps and put on her shoes.
The little girl forgot about the cat and retraced her steps out of the courtyard.
“Ninth Miss! Ninth Miss! How did you get here?”
Just as she rounded a covered walkway, a seven or eight-year-old maid rushed up.
“Baizhi!”
Seeing her maid, Wang Heng was delighted.
“Oh dear, how did you get so dirty? Ninth Miss, did you play with that fat tabby again?”
“Madam has warned you—the tabby is wild, always running about, very filthy.”
“It’s hard to tame, quick to scratch or bite. If you get hurt, you’ll have to take bitter medicine!”
The maid, Baizhi, was selected from the Wang family’s lifelong servants to attend Jiang’s daughter.
She was nine, three years older than Wang Heng.
Still a child herself, she was steady and sensible, serving Wang Heng with devotion.
As she spoke, Baizhi took out a cloth and gently wiped Wang Heng’s hands and face.
“The tabby isn’t dirty! It doesn’t scratch people! It’s just naughty—I gave it meat, but it still won’t let me pet it!”
Wang Heng corrected her in a childish voice, not forgetting to complain.
Baizhi: …
She cleaned her mistress’s face and hands, put away the cloth, and glanced at the small bamboo basket hanging from Wang Heng’s waist.
It was small, about the size of an adult’s palm, exquisitely woven, with two long straps made of bright silk.
It could be worn on the back or slung across the shoulder.
At this moment, Wang Heng had the straps together, slung across her shoulder, so the basket lay at her waist.
She could reach in and grab anything she wanted.
Though small, the basket had compartments—like a plum blossom box—with five or six sections.
Each held some snacks: fruit, pastries, dried meat, dried fruit, and so on.
Baizhi looked closely; the basket was already half empty.
Well, the little lady had fed the cat, but also herself.
“Ninth Miss, let’s go back. Madam will worry if she can’t find you!”
Baizhi did not press further about the cat; she knew that no amount of scolding would change her mistress’s ways.
In the future, she would simply watch more closely, never leaving Wang Heng alone.
But—
Ah, since returning to Yizhou from the capital last year, the journey was fraught with danger.
The Wang family traveled with their masters, servants, and retainers.
A procession of hundreds stretched for dozens of yards.
Such a display deterred rabble but also attracted bandits and rogue soldiers.

Along the way, they suffered several raids; servants died or fled.
At last, they reached the Wang fortress. Not counting other branches, Ninth Miss’s side, which originally had four first-class maids and four second-class, now retained only two first-class and one second-class.
Even at the fortress, peace was not eternal.
Famine!
Rioting peasants!
Bandits!
Officials!
Sometimes extorted, sometimes surrendered by their masters… the Wang family’s servants suffered yet more calamities.
Now, Wang Heng, the chief daughter, had only two major maids left: Baizhi and Baiyao.
Even these could not always stay by her side.
Other branches or Madam might borrow them for errands.
Otherwise, Ninth Miss would not be wandering alone.
Ah, the Wang family truly had reached a point of exhaustion, unable to care for all sides.
Baizhi, as a maid, might not say such things, but she felt the decline and desolation of her master’s house.
After escorting Wang Heng back to Jiang’s Haitang Courtyard, Baizhi was called away by the third branch to help.
“Ninth Miss, go to Madam. I’ll be back soon!”
“…Alright! Go ahead!”
Her people were always borrowed away, and Wang Heng was used to it.
She waved, unbothered, and went straight into the main room.
“Mother!”
Wang Heng ran inside, not overly plump but not thin either.
Because of the spring chill, she wore thick clothes trimmed with fur, looking like a fluffy ball.
She moved like a cat, rolling right up to Jiang.
Jiang was around twenty, her hair arranged high, brows refined, lips red, teeth white, a beauty of ethereal grace.
Like a jade statue, or a fairy from a painting, hardly seeming mortal.
Her extraordinary beauty was matched by a cold, fragile aura.
A slight frown made one ache to comfort her.
Now married with a daughter, her beauty had not faded, but gained a mature allure.
“Ah Jiu, you’re back? Did you go play with the tabby?”
Jiang knelt on the low couch. Hearing the commotion, she knew it was her daughter without looking.
She lifted her head, just as Wang Heng rushed toward her.
Though Baizhi had cleaned her, Jiang’s sharp eyes spotted a bit of dirt on the hem and sleeves.
Her daughter was lively, always chasing the cat, but never misbehaved; if her clothes were dirty, it was from something brushing against her, likely the greedy tabby.
“Mm, the tabby is naughty! I saved lamb roast for it, but it still wouldn’t behave—it ate and ran!”
“Mother, I chased it so hard, and accidentally ended up in Grandmother’s courtyard. Oh, I heard Grandmother and Father talking.”
“But their words were strange. Grandmother wants to send Mother to find the sheep!”
Nestled in her mother’s soft, fragrant embrace, Wang Heng spoke in a childish voice.
Jiang listened with a gentle smile at first, but gradually realized something was wrong—
Send mother to find the sheep?
What sheep?
Wait, today her husband had hosted General Yang.
General Yang—“Yang”—sheep?
Send mother? Ah Jiu’s mother was Jiang herself.
Thinking of Madam Xie’s cold, proud face, and the Wang family’s recent sending away of beautiful maids and even concubines, Jiang suddenly understood—it was not “send Ah Jiang to find the sheep,” but send Ah Jiang to Yang Chong!
Jiang shivered involuntarily…

PS: It’s been so long since I wrote historical fiction, I wonder how it turned out. Dear readers, please leave your thoughts, mua! (*╯3╰)