#193: Clouds and Fog (1)

In May, the scenery of Jiangzuo was picturesque, and Jiankang remained as splendid as ever—a place of unparalleled elegance and refinement.

The north bank of the Qinhuai River had always been home to the nobility of Liang. Recently, a magnificent new mansion had been added—the residence of General Han Shouye, the highest-ranking military official in the court. The estate occupied nearly an entire neighborhood on this prime land, and the plaque bearing the name “General’s Mansion,” inscribed by the emperor himself, was a testament to its grandeur.

It wasn’t excessive for the general to live so lavishly. A man wielding such immense power naturally required an equally impressive display of status. After the decline of the Qi family, the Han clan had risen to become the foremost noble family, and General Han, commanding 300,000 troops, was the crown jewel of their lineage. Even his own liege lord deferred to him, and the emperor treated him with great respect. Surely, such a figure deserved a luxurious residence.

On this day, a visitor arrived at the General’s Mansion—Han Shousong, the head of the Han family.

He was led through the expansive courtyard into the main hall but had to wait for quite some time before his elder brother, Han Shouye, appeared. Instead, it was his nephew, Han Feijue, who first came to greet him.

Han Feijue was the third son of Han Shouye, just 22 years old. Due to his frail health, he had never joined his father in military training and instead pursued scholarly studies to earn merit through examinations. He had two older brothers; the second, Han Feimo, had passed away young, while the eldest, Han Feicong, was a prominent military leader and his father’s favored son, often stationed at the camp and rarely seen at home.

Han Feijue entered the hall to pay respects to his uncle. Han Shousong offered him tea and exchanged a few words.

First, he inquired about his nephew’s health, then asked about his recent studies.

“Thank you for your concern, Uncle,” Han Feijue replied. “My body has always been like this—I’m prone to illness, but I’ve grown accustomed to it.”

Indeed, he looked sickly, his face pale and listless, his eyes dull, and his thin frame slightly stooped.

“As for my studies,” he said with a bitter smile, “I’m not as gifted as Zhongheng. I’ll need to work harder for several more years.”

Hearing this, Han Shousong naturally offered a few polite words, taking the opportunity to criticize his own second son: “Don’t mention him! That rascal has done far more foolish things than commendable ones. He even dared to submit a blank exam paper during the provincial examination! For someone like that to be named a zhuangyuan is an absolute joke!”

Though Han Shousong spoke indignantly, deep down he was immensely proud of his second son. A zhuangyuan was the epitome of scholarly achievement, not something easily attained. His son, though reckless in his youth, was undeniably talented, and now he felt quite satisfied with him.

There was just one issue… His son had grown too close to that Qi Er…

As for Han Feijue, life had not been kind to him. Han Shousong knew well that his elder brother was a military man who had little regard for scholarly pursuits. Rising to a high position had only reinforced his disdain for scholars. He relied heavily on his eldest son, while his attitude toward his frail third son had always been cold, offering no hope for his future.

It was truly pitiful.

Han Shousong patted his nephew’s bony shoulder, sighing inwardly, then asked where his father was.

Han Feijue replied, “Father is in the backyard playing touhu with Li’er.”

Li’er.

This was a child Han Shouye had recently fathered.

After the fall of the Qi family and the rise of the Hans, Han Shouye, wielding immense power, became the object of widespread flattery. Known for his lustful nature, many cunning minor officials began sending women to his bed. Among them, a particularly beautiful woman named Yan Hui caught his eye. Her allure lingered in his mind long after their encounter, and eventually, he took her as a concubine.

This concubine had good fortune. Within a year of entering the household, she conceived and bore a son. Han Shouye, delighted at having a child late in life, doted on this youngest son excessively. Now four years old, Li’er received personal attention from Han Shouye whenever he wasn’t busy with official duties, and his mother enjoyed constant affection as well.

Han Shousong had come today at his brother’s invitation, yet here was Han Shouye neglecting his guest to play touhu with his concubine and son. How absurd! Though Han Shousong felt a surge of anger, he suppressed it, exchanged a few words with his nephew, then rose and headed toward the rear garden of the General’s Mansion.

While noble residences could be built with equal opulence, subtle details often revealed distinctions in status.

For instance, though the General’s Mansion was newly constructed and imposing, the trees planted within were still young, unlike those in established noble families. In their ancestral homes, even the courtyard trees were ancient, some over a hundred years old, subtly conveying generations of accumulated prestige.

Flowers, however, carried no such significance—they were simply meant to be vibrant and beautiful. The flowers in the rear garden of the General’s Mansion bloomed extravagantly, especially the peonies, which were said to be the favorite of Concubine Yan. Indulging her, Han Shouye had planted many of them throughout the garden.

At this moment, Han Shouye was playing touhu with his youngest son amidst the peonies. His beautiful concubine, Yan Hui, sat smiling by a stone table, creating a scene of harmony and bliss.

“Li’er, aim carefully and throw with all your might!”

Han Shouye crouched protectively behind his four-year-old son, who was as sturdy as a calf. The boy gripped the long arrow tightly with his chubby hands, his large, grape-like eyes fixed intently on the small target ahead. With great effort, he threw the arrow, and it flew forward. Seeing the promising trajectory, Han Shouye’s gaze followed it closely. Unfortunately, it narrowly missed the target, grazing the rim.

Li’er was deeply disappointed and stamped his feet in frustration. Just as Han Shouye laughed and prepared to console him, a cough sounded behind him. Turning, he saw his younger brother standing there with a displeased expression.

Concubine Yan, being perceptive, immediately picked up Li’er and excused herself. Naturally, the child resisted, crying loudly as he was carried away. His wails echoed even after they had retreated far from the garden.

Han Shouye, who cherished his youngest son deeply, felt a pang of heartache at the boy’s cries. Redirecting his frustration, he lashed out at his brother: “Didn’t I say I’d meet you in the main hall shortly? Can’t you wait a moment without troubling the child?”

...Such words were clearly inappropriate.

Though Han Shouye held a higher rank in court, within the family, he was obligated to address Han Shousong as “Master.” In Jiangzuo’s noble families, the master of the clan commanded respect regardless of age, even from elders.

Han Shouye’s behavior had undoubtedly crossed a line.

Such breaches of etiquette were not uncommon. Over the years, as Han Shouye’s power grew, he had increasingly distanced himself from family control. Many within the clan sought to curry favor with him, especially his eldest son, Han Feicong, whose arrogance matched his father’s. Together, they had begun to overstep familial norms.

Though Han Shousong was typically mild-mannered and tolerant, his brother’s brazenness stirred resentment. His expression darkened as he retorted: “If you have no urgent matters, feel free to spend your days amusing your wife and child. There’s no need to invite others to disturb you or waste their time.”

This sharp retort provoked Han Shouye further.

Over the years, he had grown intolerant of criticism. Court officials fawned over him, and even Qi Jingchen, once the most powerful man in the empire, now treated him with deference. Yet here was his own brother, seemingly unaware of his stature, daring to reprimand him?

Hmph!

As a youth, Han Shouye had been unlearned, losing the chance to become family master despite being the eldest son. The position went to his younger brother, Han Shousong, causing him bitterness and resentment. Later, his mother, pitying him, persuaded their father to secure him a military post, paving the way for his rise to General.

His feelings toward his brother were complex. On one hand, he acknowledged that he lacked the diligence and inclusiveness to be master. On the other, he harbored lingering resentment over what he perceived as a stolen birthright.

Now, times had changed. Han Shouye had risen to prominence, carrying the family’s burdens. He wanted everyone to see his achievements and intended to overshadow Han Shousong at every turn. Unwilling to back down, he sneered: “No urgent matters? What about Zhongheng, who hasn’t returned to Jiankang? Isn’t your son’s delay important enough?”

At these words, Han Shousong’s face turned pale.

Zhongheng...

Yes, he... hadn’t returned yet.

The great battle between the North and South had ended in February, and soon after, negotiations led to a marriage alliance to seal peace.

Such escort duties should never have fallen to Zhongheng, but due to his close ties with Qi Er, he had volunteered before the emperor. No amount of persuasion could dissuade him; he insisted on accompanying the mission.

When the Qi family was still influential, it didn’t matter. But now, Qi Jingchen was a pariah, reduced to a pawn in the emperor’s struggle against the noble families. Associating with him brought only peril. Yet Zhongheng refused to listen.

And now, disaster struck. A massive fire erupted during the Buddha Bathing Festival in Northern Wei, reportedly killing Qi Jingchen and nearly endangering the Wei emperor. News had already reached Jiangzuo, causing shockwaves. Han Shousong heard that the Qi family was in chaos. Qi Jingchen had been their last hope—if he was truly dead, how would their vast household survive?

As for Northern Wei...

Qi Jingchen was dead, and the Wei emperor’s wedding had been delayed for half a month before finally concluding. The escort delegation could now return, but Zhongheng stubbornly insisted on finding Qi Jingchen’s remains before leaving Shangjing, repeatedly delaying his return.

Ridiculous. The fire had scorched half the mountain; Qi Jingchen’s remains were likely ashes scattered to the winds. Where could they possibly be found? It was impossible.

Han Shousong had sent countless letters urging his obstinate son to return, but they were met with silence. This was driving him to despair. The deadly trap that ensnared Qi Jingchen originated in Jiangzuo, within the Han family. The deeper Zhongheng was entangled, the greater the danger. He had to return—quickly.

Seeing his brother silenced, visibly distressed, Han Shouye felt a surge of satisfaction.

He leisurely seated himself at the stone table, where a cup of chilled tea prepared earlier by Concubine Yan awaited. He drained the cup in one gulp, set it down, and said to Han Shousong: “Zhongheng has always been close to that Qi Er. Who knows what spell has been cast over him? Instead of supporting his own family, he busies himself ingratiating himself with outsiders.”