FHJ - 12

Chapter 12: The Beginning (1)

In the thirteenth year of Qinghua under the Liang dynasty, a shocking event rocked the imperial court and the common people alike: Shen Qian, the Chief Minister of Finance of Liang, was arrested for involvement in a massive illegal salt trade scandal.

The Liang government referred to the heads of the Ministry of Revenue, the Bureau of Expenditure, and the Salt and Iron Monopoly collectively as the “Three Ministries.” Shen Qian, as the head of these ministries, served as the chief financial officer, overseeing the inflow and outflow of money and grain, tax collection, and the state monopoly on salt and iron in Jiangzuo. Exploiting his position, Shen Qian amassed a fortune through illegal salt trading, embezzling millions. The revelation of his crimes sent shockwaves throughout the empire.

Not only was Shen Qian a prominent official as the chief financial officer, but he was also the patriarch of the Shen family, one of the most prestigious clans in Jiangzuo. Jiangzuo society revered aristocratic families, particularly the four great surnames: Qi, Shen, Fu, and Han. Following Shen Qian’s arrest, the imperial court launched a thorough investigation into the Shen family. It was discovered that the entire clan was implicated, working together to amass wealth through land consolidation in regions such as Yuzhang, Poyang, and Nankang. Their actions displaced countless peasants, causing widespread suffering among the common people.

However, because the Shen family was the second most powerful clan in Jiangzuo, second only to the Qi family, their influence was deeply entrenched. Corrupt officials shielded one another, leaving commoners with no recourse to seek justice. This harm had persisted for decades. Enraged, the Liang Emperor ordered the entire Shen family arrested. Shen Qian was executed along with his three clans, while other family members were punished according to the severity of their involvement—some were stripped of their positions, others exiled. The case became a widely known scandal, discussed by men, women, and children alike.

Shen Xiling’s dream began in the winter of the thirteenth year of Qinghua.

Jiankang, located south of the Qinhuai River and north of Houhu Lake, with Zhongshan Mountain coiled like a dragon and Shicheng Fortress standing firm like a tiger, was traditionally a land of natural beauty and cultural refinement. Yet that winter was unusually snowy, and the last time her father came to visit her and her mother, the largest snowstorm of the season was raging.

During this period, her mother had fallen ill again.

Her mother was a beautiful yet frail woman who spent much of her life bedridden. When Shen Xiling was young, she didn’t understand what illness her mother suffered from—only that her father always looked sorrowful when he saw her mother’s weakened state. Despite this, he loved her mother deeply and tried not to burden her with his worries, forcing himself to smile whenever he visited. Though her mother’s health was failing, she understood her husband’s intentions and, despite her frailty, would muster the strength to converse and laugh with him whenever he returned.

That year, Shen Xiling was eleven years old.

It was an age of delicate awareness—still childlike and innocent, yet beginning to grasp certain truths. For instance, as a child, she hadn’t understood why her father, who clearly adored her mother, visited only two or three times a month. But by now, she was starting to comprehend: her mother was her father’s concubine. She had first learned this term two years earlier when a noblewoman stormed into their home, berating her mother for being an illegitimate concubine and calling Shen Xiling a “dirty bastard.” Only later did she realize that the elegantly dressed woman was her father’s wife.

Once she understood this, everything else fell into place: why she rarely saw her father, why she couldn’t live with him alongside his other children, and why she and her mother resided in this remote courtyard instead. Her early years were marked by poverty. Her mother, though weaker now, used to take her out occasionally, often to pawnshops where she sold jewelry gifted by her father to buy books and sweets for Shen Xiling. Because of this, Shen Xiling had always assumed her father came from humble origins—until that day when the noblewoman arrived, revealing that her father was the Chief Minister of Finance of Liang and the head of a prestigious aristocratic family.

But she harbored no resentment toward her father. On the contrary, she loved and respected him deeply, just as her mother did.

Her father was an elegant and gentle man—tall, handsome, and, according to her mother, once a renowned beauty in Jiankang. It was said that Princess Zhaohé, the Emperor’s sister, had once been infatuated with him and wished to marry him, but upon learning he was already married, she reluctantly gave up.

Her father was kind and thoughtful, always bringing gifts whenever he visited. He was skilled with his hands, crafting small wooden figurines or other trinkets for her—each one cherished deeply by Shen Xiling. Unfortunately, his visits were always brief, but during those moments, their little family found joy. Her mother’s spirits would lift, and he would cook meals for them, take walks in the courtyard after dinner, and tell stories in the evenings. His tales ranged from supernatural legends to romantic fables, and sometimes travelogues about mountains and rivers—all of which delighted them. Whenever he was present, both her mother and Shen Xiling were happy.

On the day of the heavy snowfall in Jiankang, her father came.

He arrived without any attendants, dressed in plain hemp clothing and wearing a straw raincoat and hat, unaccompanied by an umbrella. Shen Xiling, seeing him through the courtyard, ran joyfully toward him. Covered in snow, her father scooped her up but quickly carried her back inside, brushing the snowflakes from her hair to prevent her from catching cold.

Shen Xiling wanted to act as she usually did—coaxing her father into making her a grasshopper toy he had promised—but she sensed his mood was somber that day, weighed down by some unseen burden. Sensing this, she refrained from pressing him.

She had always been a perceptive and considerate child. Much of what happened around her required her own discovery. For example, whether her mother was forcing herself to stay strong despite her illness, or if their household finances were truly strained. She never troubled her mother with questions, knowing how difficult life was for her. Instead, she quietly observed, and even when she uncovered something troubling, she kept silent to spare her mother further grief.

That day, her father entered the house to speak with her mother and left hurriedly before dinner.

Shen Xiling was reluctant to see him go. She hadn’t seen him in nearly a month and longed for the meals he cooked and the stories he told. With the fresh snowfall, she wanted to play in the courtyard with him and hear him recite poetry about snow.

Yet she didn’t try to stop him. Silently, she accompanied her mother to see him off.

Her father behaved strangely that day. As he departed, he seemed overwhelmed with sorrow, crouching down to hold her tightly in his arms. He stroked her hair and repeatedly called her nickname: “Wenwen...”

It seemed as though he might have cried, but perhaps not.

Shen Xiling didn’t know what had happened. All she noticed was that his steps seemed unsteady as he walked away. His figure gradually disappeared into the swirling snowstorm until she could no longer see even a trace of him.

The next day, soldiers clad in armor and wielding weapons stormed into their small courtyard.

She was terrified. The last time people had intruded so rudely, it was her father’s wife leading the assault—they had insulted her mother and beaten them. She feared a repeat of that ordeal but instinctively felt this time might be far worse.

Her mother, however, appeared prepared. Dressed neatly and composed, she held Shen Xiling’s hand tightly.

They were taken to prison.

Among those imprisoned with them were many strangers, almost all surnamed Shen. Men and women were separated into different cells. Shen Xiling wanted to know if her father was among them, but inquiries revealed they were being held in the Shangfang Prison, while her father was detained in the even more dreaded Tingwei Prison.

In prison, Shen Xiling learned more about her father than she had in the past eleven years combined. People described him as a corrupt and incompetent leader—greedy and callous, embezzling vast sums of money while failing to discipline his family or guide his kin, leading to the ruin of the centuries-old Shen clan. Shen Xiling didn’t understand what “millions” truly meant or how many hairpins her mother would have needed to pawn to match that sum. All she knew was that everyone was cursing her father—a man she had always seen as gentle and kind.

She argued with the other prisoners, but her mother stopped her. By then, her mother was gravely ill. The dampness of the prison and the biting cold of Jiankang worsened her condition, though she hid it from Shen Xiling. During those days, Shen Xiling could do little but cry. Her mother would hold her close, murmuring, “Wenwen, be good. Sleep a little longer...”

Time blurred in the darkness of the cell—it might have been half a month, a full month, or just four or five days. Shen Xiling no longer remembered clearly. What she did recall was that one day, someone came to rescue them.

She and her mother were summoned by the jailer. In recent days, many men had been taken out of their cells for unknown reasons, only to return covered in blood. Shen Xiling assumed the same fate awaited them, but instead, the jailer quietly released them. A wandering swordsman awaited them outside, ready to escort them out of the city.

The swordsman claimed he had been sent by her father to save them. Overwhelmed with joy, Shen Xiling believed this meant their family would reunite someday. She asked him, “When will my father come for us?”

The swordsman evaded her question, vaguely replying, “The master has his plans.” Confused, she looked to her mother, who simply smiled at her—a smile tinged with sorrow Shen Xiling couldn’t yet comprehend.

The swordsman urged them to leave the city immediately. However, her mother’s illness had worsened; weakened by the harsh conditions of the prison, she could no longer walk or think clearly. Seeing this, the swordsman paused briefly to fetch medicine for her. But this delay proved disastrous.

Even with all his influence, her father couldn’t conceal the disappearance of two prisoners from the Shangfang Prison for long, especially now that he had fallen from power. Once the escape was discovered, soldiers scoured the city. Realizing they couldn’t stay hidden, the swordsman decided to flee under cover of night.

The guards at the city gates had initially been bribed, but the sudden search order changed everything. Reinforcements were stationed at every gate, making escape nearly impossible. Unaware of these developments, the swordsman approached the gate only to be stopped by the soldiers. After several rounds of questioning, their suspicions were aroused, and they moved to arrest them.

By then, Shen Xiling herself had caught a chill, but her mother’s worsening condition left her no time to dwell on her own ailments. Clinging to the fragile hope of reuniting with her father, she watched as the swordsman was seized before her eyes. Her hopes shattered in an instant.

The scene haunted her dreams for years: her mother collapsing unconscious in her arms, so frail and light that even a child like Shen Xiling struggled to hold her. She knelt on the ground, watching helplessly as the swordsman fought valiantly against the armored guards but was quickly overpowered. His arms were twisted behind his back, his face pressed into the filthy mud, his eyes filled with guilt and despair as he looked at her.

Her vision blurred, her breath hot and uneven. The world spun around her, surreal and chaotic. She felt as though she were trapped in a nightmare, longing to wake up to find her mother well and her father arriving with the grasshopper toy he’d promised her.

But then, snow began to fall.

Jiankang hadn’t seen snow in over a decade, yet that winter brought storm after storm. The icy flakes landed on her face, extinguishing her last flicker of hope. The image of her parents walking hand in hand dissolved like spring flowers reflected on a moonlit river, leaving only a vast expanse of white snow. The noise around her—the shouts, the clashing of weapons—faded into an eerie silence.

Amidst that stillness, she faintly heard the sound of bells.

A carriage approached slowly down the long street. Its fragrant wood frame was adorned with copper bells at each corner, its windows veiled by a curtain of crepe gauze, concealing its occupant. Two tall, powerful horses pulled the carriage, their hooves treading lightly on the thin layer of fresh snow, their breaths forming clouds of vapor in the frosty air.

Even in Jiankang, a city of unparalleled prosperity, such an opulent carriage was rare. Shen Xiling had seen one before—two years ago during the Lantern Festival, when her father took her for a ride. It was her first time in a carriage, let alone one so luxurious, and she had been delighted. Yet, inexplicably, her father’s expression turned sorrowful, and he repeatedly whispered, “Wenwen, I’m sorry.”

To this day, she didn’t know why he apologized. But in that moment, delirious and desperate, she imagined it was her father arriving. Surely, the curtain would part, and he would step out—tall, gentle, and loving—to take her and her mother home. He would call the best doctor to treat her mother, prepare a feast to comfort them, and they would eat heartily while her mother smiled tenderly.

Instead, a detached voice emerged from behind the gauze curtain. The owner of the carriage asked his servant, “What is happening out there?”

The servant bowed and replied, “Master, it is those fugitives from Fenghe Garden. They’ve been detained by the soldiers.”

“Oh?” The tone carried a hint of curiosity. “They’ve been caught?”

The servant confirmed, then respectfully lifted the curtain. From the carriage stepped a figure.

That was Shen Xiling’s first encounter with Qi Ying.