A sourness gnawed at Lu Wan’ning. The original owner of her body had been a Lu daughter, raised on every comfort that came with the name, but foolish in ways that let others take advantage of her. Wan’ning was different — she felt like a prophet condemned to watch a play she could not change. She knew the threads of fate that would not be cut: the emperor’s mistrust, the Crown Prince’s schemes. She saw them all, and yet had no idea how to stop them.
If she could not stop them, what use was she, living in the place of someone else?
Even worse was the helpless tenderness that rose for Sheng Jinyu — knowing he would die two years hence and still finding herself drawn to him, delighting and aching over the smallest details of his presence.
Madam Wei looked up and smiled again. “Everything will be fine. With your brother around, we have nothing to fear.”
Lu Wan’ning forced a smile and nodded.
That evening Lu Hongxi returned looking much as he always did. After supper he fussed over Madam Wei’s recovery, then rose to leave. Tonight, though, he didn’t go to watch Lu Cheng practice; he went straight to the study and set himself to writing.
Wan’ning poked her head in at the study door. “Father?”
Lu Hongxi glanced up and waved her over with a smile. “Wan’er, you looking for me?”
She sulked over and sat beside him. “You all knew brother was leaving early and didn’t tell me. You wouldn’t let me see him off.”
He ruffled her hair. “We are soldiers; we must be ready at a moment’s notice. What would be the point of waking you? You’ve been overworked these past days — I didn’t want to disturb you. Your brother thought the same. Better not to stir up more sorrow.”
She hooked her arm through his and laid her head on his shoulder. “I don’t want you to go, Father. I want our family to stay together forever.”
His eyes darkened. He stroked her hair. For a man of arms, togetherness was a luxury he could not promise. Even if the northern plains were pacified, new conflicts would arise. As the celebrated Grand Marshal of Great Zhou, his life belonged to the field.
Wan’ning reached for the letter on his desk and glanced at the handwriting. It was her father’s, yet the characters were foreign to her. “This… isn’t the Great Zhou script. Don’t you use our official characters in Luo City?”
Lu Hongxi shook his head with a small smile. “Not this time. These are northern characters — from the Steppes.”
Her eyes went wide. The Steppes? Treason, collusion with the enemy — how could Lu Hongxi ever be mixed up in such a thing?
He didn’t notice her alarm and only chuckled. “What’s the matter, Wan’er? It’s a letter to an old friend.”
“You count him as a friend — and he’s from the Steppes?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes. When I was on campaign, I fell from a cliff and he saved me. We’ve written to each other ever since.”
Panic tightened in Wan’ning’s chest. “But Father, you must know the Steppes are at odds with Great Zhou. Why keep such close correspondence? Father, the two countries are enemies — if you behave like this…”
The smile on his face faded. “Wan’er, do you think a Great Zhou man is not a man if he’s met someone from the Steppes? Wars are politics; they don’t erase the common humanity of ordinary people. I am a soldier — once the horn blows I follow orders. Strategy and battle occupy my days, but that doesn’t forbid me from having acquaintances.”
“Is he… an important man in the Steppes?” she pressed.
He shook his head. “I would never do anything that damnable. The man I’m close with is not some northern magnate. Back then on the battlefield I faced a renowned general of the Steppes — General Yao, famed in his land. On the field he was my enemy, but in the lull between fights we spoke from opposite sides and vowed that if chance let us, we would one day drink until we could barely stand. I count him as a kindred spirit, he says the same of me. But we both know that, however alike we may be, we cannot meet as friends in public. There are lines we mustn’t cross.”
He took the letter from her hand. “This one isn’t from a great man at all — only a merchant. A merchant does not equal treachery. He’s not a Great Zhou subject, true, but he’s still a person, still an innocent commoner. Don’t worry. We talk of nothing but the beauty of the land and idle things — never politics.”
Tears pricked Wan’ning’s eyes. She wanted to believe him; she wanted to trust that Lu Hongxi would never sell out Great Zhou. Still, those foreign characters looked like evidence of conspiracy.
Lu Hongxi patted her and drew her nearer. “Come, I’ll teach you their script. Their ancestors and ours share roots — many characters are similar. If you study, you’ll pick it up in days. I’m not particularly bright, and yet with a teacher I managed the basics in ten days back then.”
She didn’t look at the letter anymore. She asked instead, in a small, steady voice, “Father — do you know why the Emperor forbade you to go to Luo City this time?”
He studied her, then laid a hand on her brow. “Wan’er, leave those things to me. You don’t need to worry.”
“But Father — you must know. Generals who rise so high always breed suspicion. Our Lu family stands at its peak; the imperial house seems to rely on it. Father…” Her voice trailed.
Lu Hongxi pressed his lips together without answer.
Wan’ning stared at him a long moment, hardly daring to believe what she suspected. “So you do know?”
He nodded slowly. “Of course I know. I knew before, I knew later, and yesterday it became clearer than ever how wide the rift can be between sovereign and subject. But Wan’er, I am Lu blood. I am the Grand Marshal — not merely the Emperor’s appointed commander, but the people’s as well. I was born to this path; I have no way out, nor do I intend to turn away.”
Wan’ning felt both stunned and relieved. She had always thought her father blind in his trust of the Emperor, blindly loyal to a fault — but the truth was worse in a way: he knew everything and chose not to change course.
She tested him softly: “Even if it meant losing the Lu family, you wouldn’t regret it?”
He frowned. “Why would you think such things? The Emperor may feel wary of me, but he’s a man of feeling. He will not throw us to the wolves without proof. Besides, I have acted with integrity. A wise ruler will not harm us without cause.”
She jabbed a finger at the letter. “Father, correspondence with the enemy — these papers could be used as proof. Once suspicion is planted, it’s a knot that can’t be untied.”
He shook his head. “That would be ridiculous. The contents of these letters are plain for anyone to read.”
“Plain for anyone?” Wan’ning’s voice went sharp. “This is no time for complacency. The Emperor’s health is frail. He resents the Crown Prince often, and there are rumors he might remove him in favor of Prince Yu. Our Lu family—”
“Wan’er.” He cut her off gently. “These are not burdens for a little girl to carry. Besides, the Crown Prince is his legitimate heir; the Empress is your mother’s sister — the Lu family will be painted as simply being loyal kin of the heir. As for Prince Yu, he has great talent but is too eager for glory. He might serve well as a minister; as a ruler, I fear court opposition would be heavy.”
Wan’ning let out a short, bitter laugh and fixed him with a look. “Father, what if the one who fears the Lu family most isn’t the Emperor at all — but the Crown Prince?”