Chapter Text
Kangjun, Yanzhou
For the first time in ten long years, Yanzhou was alive again with celebrations. Banners fluttered over city gates and marketplaces, their bright crimson and gold threads catching the late light, and for once the sound of drums did not mark a march to battle but an offering to peace and victory. Across the province, from the fortified walls of the governor’s city to the smallest hamlets by the riverbanks, people poured out of their homes to join the festivities. The air carried excitement, laughter, chatter, clapping hands, sounds that had been absent for a decade.
Ten years earlier, the very same lands had been steeped in grief. The memory was carved too deeply to fade, the day when the old governor and his two sons rode to face the Bianzhou forces. They rode to stall Bianzhou's reinforcements bound for Xindu, the military capital of Wei state, a desperate attempt to delay what could not be stopped. The battle had ended in ruin. Both Qiao and Wei armies were crushed, their soldiers scattered or slain. The province had returned to silence. The losses had not only taken the lives of its leaders but had bled the spirit from its people. The lands fell under the governance of two young, untested men, both heirs of broken legacies.
For Yanzhou, those early years were years of unease. The young governor, Qiao Ci, was scarcely more than a boy, still learning to steady his voice when addressing his soldiers, still learning to steady his hands when signing decrees. His soldiers, too, bore the ghosts of the past, men who had once followed the late governor, now struggling to find faith in his heir.
And yet against the weight of expectation, Yanzhou began to rise again. As the years passed and Qiao Ci grew older, he learned to wear the mantle of command without letting it crush him. The timidity of youth hardened, the uncertain eyes that had once avoided his generals’ gazes now met them with unshaken resolve. When he rode out to the frontlines, he did so not to prove himself but to redeem what his family had lost. His victories came one after another, first small, then steady, until they became a norm that even the cautious began to trust. Cities that had fallen to Bianzhou and Liangya were reclaimed, their banners once more replaced by Yanzhou’s emblem.
The people, seeing this, had wished to celebrate each triumph. The soldiers returning from the front were greeted by cheers and offerings of food and wine; women and children lined the streets, tossing flowers or ribbons onto their path. But Old Madam He, the governor’s grandmother, remained firm. She had seen too much loss to welcome too much joy. The widow of the late governor had only shaken her head when talk of grand celebrations reached her, “We must not tempt fate with too much noise.”
She feared that great celebrations would court misfortune, that fortune, once flaunted, would turn its back. Her counsel prevailed. Under her watch, Yanzhou’s victories were marked only with simplicity, a modest banquet for the officers, the soldiers allowed to return to their families in peace. Joy was permitted, but not excess. Cheer met the army’s return, but fireworks and pageantry were withheld.
Only one grand celebration had broken that pattern, the wedding of the young governor. Even then, though the city was lit and music played for three nights, Old Madam He had presided from her hall, as she watched her grandson smile for the first time in years.
Now, however, even she could not deny that this day was different. Today marked not merely another victory but a turning point in Yanzhou’s fate. Qiao Ci and his army had returned triumphant again, having reclaimed the city of Liancheng from Liangya’s control. This city was no ordinary conquest. Liancheng was the gateway to the Central Plains, the vital artery between the east and the heart of the empire. With it restored to Yanzhou’s governance, they had achieved what ten years ago had seemed unthinkable.
Standing at the balcony of the governor’s hall, Qiao Ci looked out over the vast courtyard below, where rows of soldiers were assembled. The sunlight struck their bronze and steel, setting them ablaze in the light as if the gods themselves had touched them. Ten years of struggle had brought them here. Ten years since his grandfather’s death, since his family’s honor had been buried in the mud of Bianzhou’s battlefield. Now, Liancheng stood once more under his banner.
The people of Yanzhou felt that pride as their own. Markets that once closed early in fear now stayed open deep into the night; even the most cautious merchants brought out their stored wine and grain to share freely. Children ran through the streets carrying paper lanterns, their laughter mingling with the deep roll of celebratory drums. Across the province, lights were raised, the sound of laughter and music spilling into the night, not reckless, not heedless, but full, deep, and alive.
To add to the celebrations, and while her granddaughter was still in a good mood, Old Madam He chose to present Xiao Qiao the betrothal letter sent by the Wei clan.
She had never been a woman easily swayed by emotion, yet tonight her heart felt unusually heavy. Her reluctance to part with Xiao Qiao had been constant and quiet, like a stone sitting deep within her chest. She had raised her from infancy, watched her take her first steps across these same polished floors, heard her laughter carried through the halls during days when the household had known little joy. In her old age, the girl’s presence had been a comfort, a reminder that the family had endured. If she could, she would have kept Xiao Qiao here for life, perhaps even found one of Qiao Ci’s talented officials or loyal officers to marry into the family as a matrilocal husband. It would have been simple, convenient, and most importantly, it would have kept her within Yanzhou’s walls, beneath her own watchful care.
But such things were dreams born of sentiment, and sentiment was a luxury her family could no longer afford.
The marriages of her two youngest grandchildren had always been destined to serve a greater purpose. Their unions were bridges upon which Yanzhou’s survival would depend. She had accepted that truth long ago, even as it wore quietly against her heart.
Qiao Ci had already fulfilled his duty. His marriage to Yuan Xue, daughter of the Governor of Qingzhou and granddaughter of Old Madam He’s own sister, had been chosen with care. That union had been one of both political and familial strength, linking two provinces. It had brought stability when the province needed it most and tied Yanzhou securely to its allies in the east.
Now it was Xiao Qiao’s turn to bear the same.
Old Madam He’s gaze returned to the table where the letter from the Wei clan rested. She remembered the day it had arrived, brought by an envoy who had spoken with the kind of practiced courtesy that came from long service in powerful households. When she unfolded the silk paper within, she recognized the refined brushwork at once. It was the hand of Old Madam Xu, the matriarch of the Wei family, grandmother of the Lord of Wei, Wei Shao.
Old Madam Xu had written with restraint but not without warmth, her meaning clear. She had spoken of old alliances and shared losses, of the bond that had tied their families together through both friendship and tragedy. The Qiao and Wei clans had stood side by side for generations, and almost ten years ago they had both suffered deeply. That grief had forged understanding between them, and from that understanding had grown trust. It was no surprise, then, that the letter ended as it did, with a courteous inquiry into the prospects of Old Madam He’s granddaughter.
Old Madam He had not been surprised. She had known, even before the envoy’s arrival, that the time would come when such a letter would be sent. The Wei clan had always been watchful, and with the Lord of Wei’s growing influence, it was inevitable that his grandmother would look to Yanzhou when the matter of marriage arose.
Wei Shao’s union was not one to be arranged lightly. He was a man born to rule, his reputation already reaching across provinces. His grandmother, Old Madam Xu, was known throughout the realm as a woman of formidable insight and ambition. She would never make such an offer for anything less than the best and most advantageous match. That she had turned her attention toward Yanzhou, toward Xiao Qiao, spoke volumes.
The match was, in truth, as sound as any alliance could be. Yanzhou’s position had grown strong; it now held the Central Plains within its reach, though it did not seek dominion over it. Wei State, on the other hand, desired to rule the heartland, but could not move upon it without risk of devastating war. They were bound by opposing needs that could, through this union, be reconciled.
If Xiao Qiao were to wed Wei Shao, the alliance would be sealed not only in words but in blood. The Qiao clan would secure its influence over the region through her and her children, ensuring that Yanzhou’s voice remained within the governance of the realm. For the Wei clan, the marriage would pave the way toward unification. It would allow Wei Shao to claim the Central Plains not through conquest but through legitimacy, with Yanzhou’s support beside him rather than against him.
If this marriage could end the endless fighting, if it could spare the people from the suffering Old madam He had seen since her youth, then the sacrifice of one grandchild’s freedom was a small price to pay. It would be for the greater good. The bloodshed that had stained the land for decades could finally cease. The corrupt lords and officials who fed upon chaos would be swept aside. Perhaps, for once, those who had died for peace would not have done so in vain.
Old Madam He led Xiao Qiao to her room after the celebrations had calmed down. Once they had entered the room, Old Madam He seated herself at the desk and gestured for Xiao Qiao to sit opposite her. Old Madam He pulled the silk scroll from its resting place and placed it before Xiao Qiao. Xiao Qiao’s eyes immediately fell upon the scroll, her fingers flexing in her lap. She raised her gaze to her grandmother, the faint crease between her brows showing both curiosity and hesitation. “Grandmother, what is this?”
Old Madam He regarded her calmly. “Some time ago, I spoke to you about the marriage prospect I was considering for you. Do you remember it?”
Xiao Qiao nodded, her eyes lingering briefly on the desk before returning to her grandmother’s face. She recalled clearly the conversations, the letters, and the careful explanations her grandmother had shared over the past year. The entire correspondence between Old Madam He and Old Madam Xu had been presented to her before, line by line.
“That is the Wei clan’s betrothal letter,” Old Madam He continued, “Now that Xindu city has been stabilized, Old Madam Xu thinks it is the most appropriate time to arrange this marriage.”
Xiao Qiao’s hands tightened slightly in her lap. The thought of marrying and leaving home was dreadful. She felt the distance of Wei State as if it were already stretching between her and everything she had ever known, a faraway, cold land that seemed inhospitable and unyielding.
She understood, even as the dread pressed at her, that there was little she could do to alter the course of events. It was the elders’ wish for her to marry, and to refuse would not be a simple act of choice. Her grandmother, too, was reluctant. Old Madam He would have preferred to keep her by her side. However, to reject the Lord of Wei was not merely a personal decision, it was a potential cause of conflict that could sour the alliance between the two powerful clans.
Xiao Qiao finally reached forward, her fingers brushing across the smooth surface of the silk scroll. As she opened it, her eyes moved down the length of the scroll, tracing the brushstrokes of the betrothal letter, reading the words.
The opening lines greeted her family with warmth, yet even this carefully chosen courtesy did little to ease the tension coiling within her. She read the formal address, the respectful acknowledgment of her family’s honor, and the mention of the union being sought in marriage. Her eyes flicked upward for a brief moment, as if searching her grandmother’s face for reassurance, only to find Old Madam He’s expression composed.
As the letter described Wei Shao’s virtues, his wisdom, his leadership, his dedication to the people, Xiao Qiao felt a cold weight settle in her stomach. The man was a stranger to her, yet already he was being positioned as her future, as the center around which her life would revolve. She imagined the expectations that would follow, the roles she would be forced to embody, and a faint ache grew in her chest.
The words praising her own virtues, her refinement, intelligence, grace, and moral fortitude, caused a strange mixture of pride and unease to curse through her. She had never imagined her qualities being described so publicly, so officially, yet rather than comfort, it amplified the sense of obligation she now carried.
As she read further, the acknowledgment of her brother’s position, the praise of his accomplishments, and the recognition of their family’s status struck her with a keen awareness of the broader implications. This marriage was not about personal feelings, about desire or choice, it was a bond forged for the stability of entire regions.
Xiao Qiao set the scroll down, trying to contain the churn of feeling in her chest. "The Wei clan is very courteous and thoughtful. Grandmother already knows, for as long as the Lord of Wei keeps his word and holds the wellbeing and prosperity of people as his priority, Manman is willing to marry him."
Old Madam He allowed a smile to form at the edges of her mouth that was all warmth and calculation; it did not reach the depths of her eyes but it softened the stern planes of her face. "I know you are willing. But this marriage should happen according to your own wishes. How about this? Old Madam Xu has already prepared the betrothal gifts and the bride price, I have already prepared your dowry. Why don’t you and Lord of Wei negotiate your own personal dowry and bride price as well?"
Xiao Qiao’s gaze tightened, first in surprise and then in a dawning curiosity that these elders might allow a thin sliver of choice. "I am sure Grandmother and Old Madam Xu were meticulous." Her eyes searched Old Madam He’s for the smallest sign that she meant it, that she truly wished Xiao Qiao to test the water and see the man behind the title.
Old Madam He tilted her head as if listening to some inner counsel, and then. "You don’t wish to test Lord of Wei? That is very odd. I am not saying you must, but Old Madam Xu and I would like if the two you of you negotiate this between yourselves. It will give you a chance to understand what kind of person Lord of Wei is. And if he doesn’t comply, or at least meet you halfway, you can reject this marriage and he can go look for someone meek to marry if that is what he wants."
The proposition unsettled and intrigued Xiao Qiao in equal measure; to demand honesty from the other side felt like a small, private rebellion, a way to carve out dignity inside a ritual that had long since stripped choice. "Grandmother thinks I should provoke him so he shows his real face to me?"
Old Madam He stated the truth of her thought plainly. "This marriage is political, it for the sake of the alliance and the whole realm. Not everything can be according to his own wishes, he will have to think of everyone else but himself. If you have to break him to make things go the way it would be better for everyone, then I say break him. It is better that you find his weak spots than for him to diminish your spirits. I can guide your Brother onto the right path and find ways to subdue his stubbornness, but Lord of Wei is even more hardheaded than A’Ci."
*
Xiao Qiao sat on a mat in her room, her eyes fixed on the empty bamboo scroll lying before her. The inkstone and brush rested neatly beside it, unused, as if waiting for her to summon a plan that had yet to form. Her mind raced, turning over possibilities for a dowry, seeking something that could be both substantial and provocative, something that would challenge Wei Shao without overstepping her bounds. The idea of offering anything, even cities in Yanzhou, as her grandmother had said, loomed in her thoughts. How could she make it a meaningful test for Wei Shao?
She was halfway through forming a plan in her mind when the door opened, and one of her attendants, Xiao Zao, returned, her expression ragged, a sheen of sweat glimmering across her forehead from her hurried journey. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, and her face was flushed from the exertion. "Miss, the Lord of Wei is truly audacious!"
Xiao Qiao’s dark eyes lifted from the empty scroll to regard Xiao Zao. "They say he is temperamental and vicious. How has he offended Brother’s officers?"
Xiao Zao leaned over the desk, her hands bracing against the surface as if to steady herself and her words simultaneously. "Miss, one of the officers told me that some time ago, Lord of Wei launched a surprise attack on Wuyi city, taking Binazhou generals by surprise and killing everyone in his path until Wuyi was finally reclaimed for Wei State."
Xiao Qiao’s brow creased more deeply, and her eyes narrowed as she processed the information, trying to reconcile the story with what she knew of military campaigns led by her own brother. "Brother has launched surprise attacks on Bianzhou and Liangya before, why is that shocking?"
Xiao Zao shook her head. "Miss, Lord of Wei failed to notify the Qiao scouts at the border with Yanzhou that he had reclaimed the city. The Qiao army through Bianzhou was planning an attack on Yanzhou after noticing gathering of troops in Wuyi."
Xiao Qiao’s eyes moved down to the desk briefly, as if gathering her thoughts into a concrete focus, then back up to Xiao Zao. "Not even a short report was sent?"
Xiao Zao shook her head, her brows knitting together as she leaned slightly forward across the desk. "Nothing, Miss. The scouts sent their usual message offering reinforcements. The Lord of Wei responded he would ask if needed and thanked for the offer. But he also gave no explanation why Wei troops are so active at the border."
Xiao Qiao scoffed softly, the sound escaping her lips like a short exhalation. She turned toward the large animal skin map that covered one of her walls, stretching from floor to near the ceiling, the lines and inked details of rivers and cities etched with painstaking care by her late grandfather. The Wuyi city neighbored Panyi city, one of Yanzhou’s gateways and the cradle of all the rivers flowing through the province. She remembered the canals that had once carried Yanzhou’s water into Wei State before Bianzhou had destroyed them, erasing the lifelines that had fed the land for generations.
"Wuyi city is very important to Wei State. However, to keep his men that close to the border and failing to send a message to Yanzhou is distrustful," Xiao Qiao said. Her dark eyes scanned the map again, tracing lines between the cities, imagining the flow of troops and the movements that could destabilize her own home if mismanaged.
Xiao Zao, noticing the intensity of her mistress’s focus, tilted her head. "The officers said Lord of Wei is suspicious even of his own shadow. How is my Miss going to live with such a man in constant suspicion?"
Xiao Qiao’s eyes lingered over the lines that traced the borders of Yanzhou and the encroaching Wei State. The thought that Wei State would not stop at reclaiming lost territory, that they would seek to place surrounding regions under their rule, pressed on her mind like a slow, inexorable tide. She felt a chill of apprehension creep over her, imagining how the expansion of Wei influence might oppress Yanzhou despite the alliance forged by her family.
"The suspicion with which Lord of Wei and my Brother rule with can’t be resolved easily. But if the two of them are willing to compromise, there is a way for the alliance to survive beyond my marriage to Lord of Wei." Four cities along the border suddenly caught her attention, and she leaned closer, elbows resting on the edge of the desk.
*
Wuyi, Wei State
Wuyi city, long shackled under the tyrannical rule of Bianzhou, had known nothing but suffering and despair for nearly a decade. Streets, once lively with trade and chatter, had been reduced to silent corridors of fear. Each household bore the marks of loss, the hollowed eyes of children who had never known safety, women whose shoulders stooped under the burden of stolen kin, and men who labored under the brutal lash of conquerors. Trade, when it occurred at all, was twisted to serve only the distant capital of Bianzhou, offering no nourishment or aid to the territories from which it was stolen. The city’s inhabitants had grown wary, never daring to hope, for hope had a way of dying in the streets of Wuyi.
And then, as if the heavens themselves had finally cast a glance of mercy upon them, the tides of fate shifted. Without warning, the Wei army swept into Wuyi. Civilians were ordered to hide, guided to safety by Wei troops, a careful orchestration of protection that left no one behind if they could help it.
The people’s reactions were raw, unfiltered. Mothers whispered frantically to their children, pulling them close, pressing them against their chests to feel their warmth. Fathers, who had long carried the weight of helplessness, stood frozen, eyes widening, fists loosening as the shock of freedom began to settle over them. Their lips parted in silent exclamations of astonishment, tears pooling unbidden in the corners of eyes hardened by years of suffering. Children ran, laughed, and clutched one another’s hands in pure delight, gazing upward as fireworks, bright, startling, magnificent, lit the night sky. The sudden eruption of light and sound sent shivers down their spines, mingling fear with wonder, the first taste of joy many had ever felt.
As the streets slowly filled, the people emerged from hiding, eyes scanning cautiously for signs of further threat, but finding only soldiers moving with care and discipline. Their voices rose tentatively at first, a chorus of disbelief that gradually blossomed into shouts of triumph and laughter. The cries were raw, carrying the long-suppressed hope finally freed: "We are free! We are free!" Every sense of the city seemed to awaken from a decade-long slumber. Wuyi belonged to its people once more. And for the first time in ten long years, the city dared to hope.
The people had endured starvation, brutality, and the theft of their loved ones, and now the promise of a life reclaimed was visible. The smallest children, who had known only oppression, lifted their faces to the sky, fingers pointing to the bursts of color illuminating the night. For the first time, the city of Wuyi experienced something that had been unimaginable for a decade: peace, joy, and the exhilarating, almost dizzying sensation of freedom. The streets were alive with motion and sound, the entire city breathing in unison with the realization that it was theirs again, under the protection and promise of the Wei State and its Lord, who had, after all those years, kept his vow to reclaim and protect them.
Wei Shao stood atop the tall walls of Wuyi city, eyes scanning the streets below, alive with movement, joy, and newfound freedom. He could hear the cries of celebration, the laughter of children who had never known safety, the shouts of relief from mothers and fathers alike. For him, this victory carried a weight that surpassed even the reclamation of Xindu. Xindu had been steeped in grief, a place where joy could not take root because the shadow of his family’s loss lingered in every street. His grandfather, father, and brother, all had perished amidst the chaos of battle, and no matter how the city had been restored or how prosperous it had become, their absence had cast an unending shadow over his heart.
Here in Wuyi, however, he did not witness such slaughter firsthand. He had not seen thousands of innocents fall before his eyes, although the imprint of past suffering haunted him still. He allowed himself a rare, private smile as he watched children dart through the streets, their fingers pointing at the fireworks that streaked across the night sky. Their wide, unguarded eyes reflected amazement and hope, and for the first time in ten years, he felt that a promise made in youth, to reclaim the lost territories and protect the people, was being fulfilled.
At some point, his advisor, Gongsun Yang, had climbed the narrow stairwell to join him atop the walls, escaping the persistent entreaties of Wei generals to drink more. Gongsun Yang’s face bore the faint flush of exertion and the lingering joy of witnessing the celebrations, and he chuckled over the deafening chanting of the people as he approached Wei Shao. "The great joy my Lord has brought to the people! They have been worshiping you all night as if a deity has descended from heavens before them," he said, his eyes sparkling, hands gesturing toward the vibrant streets below.
Wei Shao turned his gaze briefly toward Gongsun Yang, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, though his eyes retained their usual sharp focus. "I am a mere mortal, freeing the innocent from the tyrant. For some we came too late."
Gongsun Yang inclined his head, accepting the words with understanding, and spoke with a reassuring tone, though the excitement in his voice could not be fully restrained. "My Lord, don’t dwell on it. Now that most of the lost territories have been reclaimed for Wei State, the only thing left is to focus on prosperity."
Wei Shao’s lips curled into a brief, almost wry snicker, one that hinted at the wheels turning relentlessly in his mind. Gongsun Yang tilted his head, eyebrows raised slightly, and spoke with curiosity, "My Lord has different plans?"
Wei Shao’s gaze swept across the city one final time, lingering on the fireworks and the movement of people reclaiming their lives. "We have reclaimed the cities back, they will surely prosper under Wei State. But the rest of the realm has been left at Bianzhou and Liangya’s mercy and they have shown none. Once Wuyi is renovated and people are prospering, we will unite the realm under Wei’s rule."
Gongsun Yang remained silent for a moment, absorbing the weight of Wei Shao’s words. The advisor could feel the ambition, the deep-seated sense of responsibility driving every thought, every movement. "The Lord is thoughtful. But uniting the realm might take a few years. Why not marry first my Lord? It would allow our army to recuperate. We need to collect food rations and make more weapons, train new troops and horses. In the meantime, if you marry Miss Qiao, Yanzhou will hold the Central Plain’s out of reach for the rest of states and provinces."
Wei Shao’s eyes remained fixed on the horizon as he clasped his hands behind his back. "I didn’t agree to marry Miss Qiao to gain Central Plains, I agreed because the alliance would secure water and grain for Wei State."
He understood, as deeply as he did the touch of steel in his hand or the march of soldiers in formation, that while he needed no one to unite the world under his command, the alliance with the Qiao clam, Yanzhou’s rulers, holders of the Central Plains, would provide undeniable strategic advantage.
Turning slightly to Gongsun Yang, Wei Shao continued, "Grandmother sent me a letter, she and Governor Qiao’s grandmother have arranged almost everything. She has asked me to think about the bride price I would offer in exchange for the dowry. I wanted to ask advisor Gongsun for guidance."
"The Qiao clan has ruled over Yanzhou for hundreds of years now, dynasties came and went, but they remained. Governor Qiao is fearless, perceptive and honest. Young Miss Qiao was meticulously educated, I have heard she even received education in statesmanship and military strategy." Gongsun’s eyes, sharp as always, locked on Wei Shao’s, and he inclined his head with a slight nod, "My Lord, this marriage benefits you and the Wei State more than Qiao clan and Yanzhou. The bride price can’t be something simple and ordinary."
Wei Shao remained silent for a long moment, the tips of his fingers flexing as he gripped the fabric of his robes lightly behind his back. The advice had clarified the stakes, yet the enormity of the Qiao clan’s reputation, the intelligence and refinement of Xiao Qiao, and the scope of the alliance had left him more conflicted than resolved.
*
The scout had hardly finished untying the cord on the scroll before Wei Shao’s fingers took it from him. The report that Miss Qiao herself had penned the letter arrived first in his mind like a small, bright stone dropped into still water. That she had not waited for the elders to arrange everything but had reached out first was, in his estimation, a proof of temperament as much as of courtesy. He allowed himself the smallest smile before he gave himself over to the words, tilting the scroll toward the lamplight and letting his eyes drink in her handwriting line by line.
He murmured the opening to himself as though testing the cadence of her phrasing. "I write to you with heartfelt congratulations on your recent victory in reclaiming Xindu." As he read further, his jaw tightened at both the deference and the boldness. When her dowry suggestion came, literally laid out in ink for him to weigh, he paused, the scroll half open in his hands. "Yibin city, Zigong city," he murmured.
The proposal forced him to straighten, to picture the rivers and the salt mines she named. Her choice of Yibin, at the junction of the Min and Yang, struck him as precise and practical rather than sentimental. It would transform river routes the way a single bridge could change the direction of a road. Zigong’s salt, likewise, was raw, necessary leverage; salt meant meat cured for campaigns, it meant long-term provisioning without dependence on unstable neighbors. Her proposal was at once modest in rhetoric and audacious in consequence. He murmured a fragment of the letter where she framed the suggestion "an additional layer of security for our alliance."
Emotion threaded through his thoughts in a way he rarely allowed himself to name. He felt pleased at the directness, pleased at the care she had taken to couch strategy in the language of duty and the well-being of the realm. He also felt the hard, cold tick of possible complications. To accept the swap would alter lines of authority and customary loyalties, it would require Qiao Ci’s assent at a level beyond the private negotiations of dowry and bride price, and it would reposition Wei State’s economic base. "She would offer Yibin and Zigong to Wei State." As if repeating it might make its consequences more distinct.
He would consider it, and he would consult those he trusted. He allowed one private admission to himself, "She thinks like a steward."
Wei Shao had just finished reading Xiao Qiao’s letter for the third time, his mind still turning over her proposal like a finely carved jade in his palm, smooth at first glance, but with subtle edges meant to test the one holding it. He set the scroll aside and reached for a clean bamboo slip. The brush balanced between his fingers as he prepared to answer, already forming the first lines in his head, the question that now lingered foremost in his mind: What would Yanzhou ask in return for such generosity? The ink had barely touched the tip of the brush when the flap of his tent shifted and one of his border scouts entered.
The man dropped to one knee immediately and bowed. "My Lord, there are news from the scouts at the border with Yanzhou."
Wei Shao hummed lightly, the low sound an acknowledgment more than permission. "Speak," he said at last, setting the brush aside.
"There was a grand celebration across Yanzhou," the scout reported, his head still lowered. "Even along the border there were festivities."
Wei Shao’s brow creased. He leaned back in his seat, the lamplight throwing a sharp line of gold along his cheekbone. "There are no festivals this time of the year," he said, "What were they celebrating?"
"Governor Qiao led the Qiao army to reclaim Liancheng. The people of Yanzhou celebrated the victory."
Wei Shao’s head rose, the lamplight catching the subtle shift in his expression, surprise first, faint but genuine, followed by an intensity that sharpened his gaze. "Anything else?"
The scout obeyed, listing the rest of the report. "Governor Qiao managed to reclaim Liancheng in only a couple of days, dealing a severe blow to Liangya’s troops. They are unlikely to recover in years. He also opened a new gateway from Yanzhou to the Central Plains using Liancheng as the post, a suggestion which, the scouts report, came from his sister."
At that, Wei Shao’s hand stilled mid-motion. His fingers, which had just been tracing the lip of the inkstone, froze. The faintest crease formed between his brows as he turned his gaze from the table toward the scout.
"The suggestion came from his sister?" he repeated.
"Yes, my Lord," the scout confirmed quickly, "It resulted in Liangya losing the only point of connection they had to the Central Plains and severed their trade route to Wuzhang State. The Wuzhang’s Su clan pleaded for mercy but were met with scorn. Officials along the trade route were executed for aiding Liangya’s occupation of Yanzhou’s territory."
Wei Shao exhaled slowly, his thumb pressing against the edge of the table as his mind began to arrange the pieces. His eyes lowered, dark and thoughtful, to the scroll Xiao Qiao had written that still rested beside him. Her voice, so meticulous and restrained in ink, now rang in his head with a sharper clarity. “Given your efforts toward unification and your vision for Wei State’s dominance, I have taken the liberty to consider ways in which our union might assist you in these endeavors…”
Years ago, when Bianzhou attacked both Wei State and Yanzhou, Liangya lay like a snake, waiting for a moment to strike, while Wuzhang only looked out for its own interests. It is only right for Yanzhou to treat Liangya and Wuzhang in such a way. They both profited from the times of troubles. But after reclaiming Liancheng, Yanzhou now almost completely encircles the Central Plains. If anyone endangers Yanzhou in any way, Governor Qiao would scorch them into dust.
He had known, from the tone of her letter, that Xiao Qiao was no idle ornament. The precision of her mind mirrored his own, her vision not confined to the domestic or the ceremonial but extending into the very veins of the realm. He had underestimated the depth of her intellect, or perhaps, he thought, he had merely been unwilling to imagine that a woman so young could see as far ahead as she did.
But there was another feeling, the awareness that with Yanzhou’s current position, and her influence over her brother’s decisions, the balance between their two states was shifting faster than he anticipated. He rose from his seat and crossed the tent to where a large, detailed map hung. He ran a finger along the border between Wei State and Yanzhou, tracing it southward to Liancheng.
"Encircling the Central Plains," he murmured. "Governor Qiao plays the game well. And his sister may be the one handing him the pieces."
He turned slightly, dismissing the scout with a flick of his hand. The man bowed low and exited, leaving Wei Shao alone once more in the quiet of the tent. For a long moment, he stood unmoving. His gaze lingered on the map spread before him, but his thoughts were elsewhere, circling around what he had just heard. Reclaiming Liancheng in days... a gateway to the Central Plains... her suggestion. Her suggestion.
At length, he exhaled and turned back toward his desk. Then he reached for his brush again, rolling it between his fingers.
The inkstone before him was still wet from earlier. He lifted the brush, watching the bristles darken as they dipped into the ink. The steady rhythm of his movements belied the unease working through him. The trade port. The salt mines. He could already picture what it would mean, salt, that vital lifeblood of preservation and trade, and a port that would open Wei State to routes long closed to them. Any ruler in his position would have seized such an opportunity without hesitation.
And yet, as he bent over the bamboo scroll, his mind reeled. What would they ask in return? Yanzhou had just reclaimed Liancheng, a victory that threatened the balance of the Central Plains. They were in no position of weakness. No, it was the opposite, their confidence, and Xiao Qiao’s precision in diplomacy, made them unpredictable. They were capable now of asking for anything, and Wei Shao, who prided himself on never being indebted, found the thought intolerable.
The letter he penned was polite, but beneath the civility, there was a trace of steel. He declined her offer in words that spoke of prudence, of respect, of considerations for timing and resources, all carefully veiled excuses. He was choosing pride over advantage, and even as he did, he could feel it, the faint sting of knowing it.
When the letter was finished, he sealed it with his mark and handed it to the awaiting courier. "Take this to Yanzhou at once," he said. The man bowed and disappeared into the darkness.
Only moments had passed before the tent curtain stirred again, this time admitting Gongsun Yang. The old advisor moved with his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes sweeping the tent as though instantly aware of the atmosphere within. He paused when his gaze landed on the bamboo scroll lying open on the table, Xiao Qiao’s proposal.
Gongsun Yang approached, his face lighting with intrigue. He picked up the scroll, scanning the neat, elegant writing. As he read, his expression changed, first surprise, then a growing sense of admiration. "Miss Qiao is well versed in politics and diplomacy. I have spent years as an advisor, trying to come up with solutions with other officials, and this has never crossed our minds. If Miss Qiao was cunning, she could have used our weakness of not having a port for trading and salt against us. Instead, she is offering it to us as her dowry. My Lord, you must think about what to offer to Yanzhou in return."
A faint sheen of sweat had begun to gather near Wei Shao’s temple, barely visible under the soft lamplight. He exhaled slowly, a controlled sound through his nose, and sank back into his seat, his hand brushing over the table as though searching for grounding.
He had known, even before the letter was sent, that the offer was far from empty politeness. But hearing it voiced aloud, that the weakness of Wei had been so deftly accounted for and turned into a gesture of alliance, made the rashness of his earlier decision tighten in his chest like a vice. He felt faint warmth crawling up his neck as realization struck him: the messenger was already far on his way to Yanzhou, carrying his refusal.
The more Gongsun Yang spoke, the heavier the air seemed to grow. The older man’s voice was steady. "My Lord, our trade has been very poor these years because we don’t have a secure route and the produce is limited. The produce we do grow ourselves, we can’t preserve because we don’t have enough salt to do so."
Wei Shao forced himself to smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. His pride, that stubborn, reflexive instinct that so often guided him, felt suddenly misplaced. His heart beat faster, a slow, sinking awareness dawning that he might have acted too quickly. "Advisor believes this would be beneficial to Wei State?"
Gongsun Yang straightened, sensing the shift in his lord’s tone. "Of course!" he repeated firmly. "My Lord, our people have suffered in the markets for years. Merchants avoid us because our routes are too dangerous, our resources too few. A port would open us to trade beyond our borders. Salt would preserve what we harvest, it would strengthen the very backbone of the state."
Wei Shao nodded once before he reached for a fresh bamboo scroll. His tone remained calm, "Then, I must trouble Advisor to discuss this with the officials. I will inform the Qiao clan that we will reconsider their offer."
Gongsun Yang’s eyes gleamed with approval. "My Lord is wise. You have always put the common people above everything else."
Wei Shao gave a faint smile in return. As Gongsun Yang withdrew with a satisfied air, Wei Shao sat back in silence once more, staring at the new scroll before him.