ITIEQ C54

Chapter 54 – Each Shows a Different Branch

Shen Qinghe lifted his gaze at the same time, their eyes meeting.

The Wei clan of Yunzhong County.

Anyone present could have spoken those words—anyone but Gongyang Ci.

The Governor of Cangzhou was known for his deep affection for his wife. That wife was no ordinary woman—she was herself of the Wei clan’s legitimate line. Everyone knew this.

Even Yaoguang sensed something amiss now. Three pairs of eyes fixed on Gongyang Ci, searching through that upright figure to grasp the meaning behind his midnight visit and these dangerous words.

“Wei clan? Why the Wei clan?”

Shen Qinghe raised his lids, testing him quietly:

“The Five Great Houses² guard their reputation above all else. Such lofty families need not sully themselves in scandals like this, to ruin their own name. Lord Gongyang, you should not speak without proof.”

But Gongyang Ci remained calm:

“If the Five Greats still overflowed with talent, wreathing their houses with honor, there would indeed be nothing to say. But now—has Heaven not proved merciless, treating the ten thousand creatures as straw dogs³? The world stumbles into chaos, talent has withered—so too the Five Greats are not what once they were.”

Shen Qinghe arched a brow:

“And what has that to do with me? Right or wrong aside—if I recall, the Yue family was once your patron house, was it not? And yet one who turns against his patron—can that not be called disloyal? Such betrayal should leave you reviled by all.”

Indeed, before posting to Cangzhou, Gongyang Ci had been a renowned retainer of the Wei family. There was an old story: “a guest worth a thousand in gold.” Even now, some mocked him as ‘Can’t Be Bought Out.’

“I was indeed once a retainer of the Wei clan,” Gongyang Ci admitted quietly. He twined his fingers around prayer beads recently begged from Bao Hua Monastery, rolling one as he spoke.

“You know the rule—great clans do not take spouses from outside, much less among the Five. I took the Wei daughter in secret, and so was cast out at once. My wife suffered family punishment; she has been sick ever since… Though my Xiao Rou has never complained, I as her husband cannot watch her waste away each day, and turn a blind eye.”

His voice chilled further.

“Only if the Wei clan suffers the pain we did, will my heart be balanced. Ruined name? Reviled by all? So be it.”

The words carried bleak bitterness.

Shen Qinghe drummed his fingers lightly on the table.

So—the dismissed employee, forced from the company without severance, who held insider dirt, now flipping to file retaliation. Perfect sense.

Yaoguang frowned: “But you were only a household retainer. How could you know such secrets?”

Gongyang Ci’s lips curved:

“Why else would a mere commoner like me be taken into service at fifteen? I had nothing but quick understanding. True, White Lotus dealings were kept secret—but in ten years under that roof, even half‑blind, one can guess.”

“Then why,” Yaoguang pressed, “did you stay silent when we destroyed White Lotus in Cangzhou?”

“That was the Wei House. Had I told you then, would you have dared oppose them? I myself would not bet my life on such unknown odds. My wife waits for me; I must keep breathing carefully.” His honesty was plain.

“Petty cowardice,” Yaoguang snorted.

But in truth, Gongyang Ci’s timing was strategic—waiting until they had already stepped into danger with the Wei’s private winehouse, when retreat was impossible. Already tied to the mast of this ship, he surfaced only now.

Gongyang Ci ignored Yaoguang’s jibe, turning instead to Shen Qinghe:

“I told you before: if you ever need me, come. That promise stands yet.”

Shen Qinghe studied him, weighing whether to trust him as ally.

“If you don’t believe me, then pretend I never came, never spoke. My advice still: leave—leave Yunzhong, leave Huizhou, go far and fast.”

“I know you are the Emperor’s man. He sent Lord Kong to aid you, even gave you the Imperial Sword. Such honors… yet remember, there is a phrase: ‘Heaven high, the Emperor far.’ Out here, you may not find fortune.”

Plain words, neither flattering nor demanding. That honesty slipped into the heart. Even Yaoguang, unwilling to admit agreement, found his hostility suppressed.

Shen Qinghe leaned forward from his seat facing the main door.

“What we pursue needs no counsel from you on its possibility. What I truly wonder—if we cannot rival Wei, then Lord Gongyang… what will you do to turn defeat into victory?”

Gongyang Ci had long since severed ties with the Wei, statute of limitations on arbitration well expired. His grudge now? Only vengeance? Shen Qinghe himself eyed the Wei estate too—as prime land for a new branch campus.

Much connected, but always circling back to that word “Wei.” He longed for sunrise, yet fog never cleared. Perhaps indeed the ancients were right: the player is blinded in the game.

Shen Qinghe, however, was not one to dither. Whatever he wished to attempt, he would use every lever in hand to succeed.

If Gongyang Ci offers himself—why not use him?

“I cannot myself alter the board,” Gongyang said evenly. “But I can point you to one who may.”

“The Wei sit above Yunzhong, cloud over the sky. Yet beyond clouds are higher heavens. Above the clouds, more clouds await.”

Shen Qinghe kept silent, awaited more.

“At the purification rites, the Yue heir also came. You know of him.”

Yue Jie?

Seeing that recognition, Gongyang Ci smiled faintly.

“I can mediate. If the Yue family extends its hand, then your plans, Lord Shen, are no idle dream.”

To offer him a bridge to Yue Jie—was this not the jest of the century?

Shen Qinghe tasted a swirl of feelings. Still, he himself brewed tea, filling a cup at the empty seat, signaling Gongyang Ci with a gesture.

“Well then—I thank you in advance.”

It was an invitation.

Gongyang Ci swept his robe and sat, sleeve brushing the desk as he raised the hot cup—a celadon vessel woven with gold threads, priceless.

“Yue gongzi, it has been many years unseen.”

Elder Wei Hongbo’s hair and beard were wholly white, his brow jutting proud. Half reclining on his couch, age spots blotched his neck. He looked like a kindly longevity star drawn by some artisan’s hand.

Yue Zhi smiled. “House matters pressed me, I failed to visit Uncle—my fault. My father ever holds you in his thoughts. Today I come, partly to bring his greetings.”

Wei Hongbo laughed kindly, crow’s feet fanning, face ruddy, spirit good.

“Ah, my body is no longer what it was. We old fellows used to meet often—now we cannot. If I leave my home, I fear never to return. So I stay.”

Yue Zhi listened in graceful humility of nephew to elder.

“But I envy your father most still. In youth he strode storms, in later age he has you and Yinyin both—two brilliant sons. As for me—only this one useless Wei Sheng. My only hope is he does not squander our Wei estate, so I may face our ancestors unashamed.”

Wei Hongbo knew: his son, fond of herbs and alchemy, no brothers beside. When he was gone, vultures circling. So he summoned his old friendship with Yue Sheng, begging Yue’s heir to shield Wei Sheng from the family’s wolves.

The moment he received a visit invitation from Yue Zhi, he felt relief—nine chances of ten assured. Yue Zhi was no ordinary scion, but a courteous heir, respectful to elders—easy enough to secure a favor.

But after meeting—like a block of carved jade, Yue Zhi’s every word courteous, yet never pledging what was asked. Though Hongbo’s heart burned with urgency, facing such crystalline gaze, he swallowed his temper, pleading all the more.

Old eyes almost in tears, voice trembling, frail frame pitiful.

Then Yue Zhi placed down his teacup. The fine celadon lotus‑bowl struck the desk with a clear chime, breaking Hongbo’s speech.

“I have met Wei Sheng. He is not nearly so unworthy as you say.”

Head slightly bowed, he appeared the very image of refined noble youth, gaze lowered to the pale leaves floating and sinking in cup’s water.

Since the Wei split into two—one in Yunzhong, one far in Zhuozhou—they had been like a severed dragon vein. Still one of the Five, but glory long gone.

Even had they not invited, Yue Zhi would have come. For where great beasts wither, hungry dogs always gather.

Out of respect for the two families’ fathers, he would not allow nameless curs to gnaw their carcass. He would see them handled properly.

“Better to send Wei Sheng into Shangqing Academy⁴. There, finest scholars of Qing studies teach. With their nurturing, he will shine, and you will worry less.”

Wei Hongbo’s eyes widened, thick with cloudy age.

His son was his only late‑life heir, born of twelve wives yet only one boy. Spoiled utterly, schooled by private tutor at home. Nearly thirty now. To dispatch him to Academy—what did that mean? When he died, and Wei Sheng still at study, who would hold the family helm?

Flustered, he coughed, rasping, calling Yue Zhi by courtesy name: “No, Ziqing, I mean—”

“Why of course, Uncle.” Yue Zhi’s smile gentle. “My father was close to you. If the Wei family suffers, how could I stand idly by? Should Cousin Wei enter the Academy, I would give all aid, to keep the Wei estates safe, to let you rest in peace before the ancestors.”

The words stung, some edge beneath their politeness.

Hongbo, uneasy, tried to answer—but met only courtesy, no malice. His tongue stilled.

A sigh escaped him—whatever old grandeur, he was but a weary man of seventy now. He slumped, turning to his servant: “Bring Sheng here, to meet Young Master Yue.”

He had done all he could.

When Wei Sheng entered, Yue Zhi was already taking leave. Hongbo, cloaked against the chill, escorted him.

“Father, you…” Wei Sheng blinked at the sight. “Master Yue? Why are you here?”

Yue Zhi inclined in nod, already moving away.

Wei Sheng called after, awkwardly rubbing his nose when none answered.

Turning back, his hand was seized—grip like an eagle’s talons, clawing muscle. “Father!” he winced.

“See our guest gone? Addressing without respect? I have arranged with Ziqing. By autumn you will enter the Shangqing Academy—learn proper ways. Let me rest easy!”

Wei Sheng stared. “Me? Academy? Father, are you mad? I’m near thirty—what school?!” He scowled. “All my uncles’ sons are of age—send them! They’ll rejoice! Don’t play me for fool!”

Hongbo smacked his skull hard. “Nonsense! You waste days with your nonsense trinkets! Out there, they honor me only because I yet breathe. None of you bear the house’s weight. Shall I, half buried, still bear all?”

“Mad or not, I won’t go…” Spoiled so long as Yunzhong petty tyrant, how could he accept to be meek student now? His eyes narrowed, seizing his father’s wrist. “What was told you? Why suddenly this delirium—to send me off?”

His gaze sharpened. “I wondered why the Yue clan, unseen for years of xiuxi, suddenly sent Yue Jie fluttering forth. So the hook was here waiting.”

Hongbo held silence. That was answer enough.

Wei Sheng clenched teeth, eyes flashing venom.

“Father, you’re deluded! You think Yue Zhi your good nephew? Normally never glanced at you. Now smelling death, seeing our decline, he comes pretending humble, pressing me into Academy.”

“You mistake the wolf for lamb! In truth, he means to bite off a piece of the Wei!”

Footnotes

 

 

1. 天地不仁，以万物为刍狗 – “Heaven and Earth are not benevolent; all things are but straw dogs.” A line from Dao De Jing, meaning nature/spirit shows no favoritism; human suffering means nothing in the cosmic order. 
2. Shangqing Academy (上清书院) – A top institute of study, training ground for elite Confucian/Neo‑Confucian scholars.