Chapter 21: Zhao Han’s Choice

Within Wanqu City, as dusk settled, the once bustling streets finally quieted. Candlelight glimmered from upper rooms, cooking smoke curled into the sky, and the tranquil atmosphere seemed to transform the city into a different scene altogether.

Meanwhile, in a grand mansion, people bustled everywhere.

“Look, even the Kong family from Yizhou has arrived!”

“That’s Li Shouxuan and Li Shousu, sons of the Lees of Zhaojun; Wei Ting, Wei Yijie, and Wei Renji from the Wei clan of Jingzhao; Gao Shou from the Gao family of Bohai…”

“Even Xue Shou, one of the three phoenixes of Hedong’s Xue clan, is here. Isn’t that Wang Ji? He was praised as a prodigy in Chang’an at the age of eleven. And who’s the young man beside those two?”

“I think I’ve seen him—Xue Shou’s close friend. His name is Fang Qiao, styled Xuanling. I heard his father just passed away this year.”

As a house of centuries-old standing, the Xie family’s residence was vast indeed. With noble families from across the land arriving, the place was alive with greetings, laughter, and conversation. Old friends reunited, new acquaintances were made through introductions, and the renowned scions of aristocratic lineages were the talk of the gathering.

Outside the gates of the Xie residence, Zhao Gu paced anxiously until at last he saw his father and fourth uncle approaching with their retinue. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief, hurrying forward to greet them.

“Father! Uncle!”

The sight of his father steadied Zhao Gu’s nerves.

Zhao Zi nodded to his son, then turned his gaze to his eldest, Zhao Han.

“Han’er, have you made your decision?” Zhao Zi asked.

He already knew the chain of events from his attendants. Though he hadn't seen the suspicious visitors at the city gate himself, the oddity in Fu Zihou’s words had given him pause. He wondered what Fu Zihou could possibly gain; deceiving Zhao Han and Zhao Gu when they’d already left the Fu family held no advantage for him. Besides, Fu Zihou had earnestly begged Han’er to protect his teacher in the village in the future.

So Zhao Zi had brought all the trained warriors from their village to Wanqu’s city walls. If the warning was false, they’d lose nothing but a journey; but if true, it could mean the family’s survival. The final decision, though, rested on his eldest son.

“Father, I trust Zihou!” Under his father’s gaze, Zhao Han took a deep breath, then looked up to declare his choice.

Zhao Gu glanced at his brother, then at his father and uncle, and finally back to his brother.

“Your mother said, if you trust Zihou, then simply tell the matter to the Wei lady. There's no need for more,” Zhao Zi said, sharing his wife’s advice with his eldest.

Unlike Fu Zihou’s urging, Zhao Han’s mother wished her son no unnecessary risk. Better to quietly inform the Wei lady of the threat; whether true or false, Han’er would not be greatly affected. After all, the Xie family was hosting the most illustrious guests from across the land—if her son became the butt of public ridicule, it could destroy his future.

“Father, if I trust Zihou, I cannot shrink from this. I will tell those within the mansion, so the Xie family may be forewarned! If Zihou’s prediction proves true, I will make his name known to all!” Zhao Han’s resolve relaxed his features, and he met his father's eyes boldly.

To Zhao Han, Fu Zihou’s goodwill was clear, but he did not wish to live a lie or owe anyone a debt. His birth could not compete with the great houses, but he would not let his spirit fall short of theirs.

“Nephew, are you muddle-headed?” his fourth uncle Zhao Yong burst out. Was Han really planning to announce this himself? If it proved false, he’d be mocked for believing rumors; if true, all credit would go to that Fu boy. How was that fair?

Zhao Yong was not his brother Zhao Zi, nor did he wish to be—if he had to watch Han hand over such merit, he’d be furious.

Was Han out of his mind?

Before Zhao Yong could finish his protest, he watched as Zhao Zi suddenly smiled and nodded at Han, signaling him to proceed.

Zhao Yong was left bewildered, as was Zhao Gu, who could not understand why their father didn’t stop Han, when their mother had urged otherwise. What if Fu Zihou’s prediction was wrong?

“If that Fu boy is spouting nonsense, no matter where he hides, I’ll drag him out myself!” Zhao Yong fumed as Han entered the Xie residence.

But Zhao Zi only smiled at his brother’s indignation, gazing after his eldest son with pride. The only thing Han lacked was noble birth; otherwise, he would have gladly sought the Wei lady’s hand on his son’s behalf.

Inside the Xie mansion, Xie Shufang was chatting with Changsun Anye when he spotted Zhao Han striding over.

“Zhao Han greets Uncle Xie!” Han bowed directly to Xie Dao Hong, Shufang’s father, not pausing for small talk.

“Virtuous nephew, has your father arrived?” Xie Dao Hong inquired, not unfamiliar with Han.

After learning that Han’s father waited outside, Han promptly recounted, before Shufang and Changsun Anye, the discovery of suspicious activity at the city gate and the suspicion that an attack was planned to coincide with the Xie family’s festivities.

At those words, astonishment flickered across the faces of Shufang, Changsun Anye, and even the venerable Xie Dao Hong.

“What? Someone plans to attack Wanqu?”

“How could that be!”

Han had spoken loudly, and as Xie Dao Hong was in the midst of conversation with other nobles, the news quickly spread. Faces turned, conversations hushed, and incredulity rippled through the crowd.

“Virtuous nephew, today is the Xie family’s celebration! Who would dare such a thing?” Xie Dao Hong’s disbelief was plain.

All around, guests exchanged bewildered glances, some shaking their heads or even laughing, suspecting Han of deliberately disturbing the feast or being a credulous fool.

Han, undeterred by the growing murmur and the many eyes on him, stood his ground and addressed Xie Dao Hong with dignity.

“The one suspected is Lu Mingyue,” he announced, sharing Fu Zihou’s deduction.

“Lu Mingyue?” Xie Dao Hong repeated, then shook his head with a laugh.

“A year ago, Lu Mingyue was routed by General Zhang Xutuo and has not been heard from since. How can anyone believe he would attack Wanqu today?” Xie Dao Hong retorted, demanding proof.

The news swept the halls and courtyards alike—whether guests from the Gao family of Bohai, the Wei family of Jingzhao, or other noble clans, all heard the story. When they learned the rumor started from a single observation at the city gate, and was then spun into an ominous prediction, everyone burst out laughing at the absurdity.

“Xuanling, there really are such people? Daring to declare an attack on nothing more than a hunch,” Xue Shou, standing with Wang Ji beneath the veranda, chuckled as he heard the commotion.

Wang Ji, already flushed from wine, seemed oblivious, prompting Xue Shou to chide, “Brother Ji, the festivities haven’t even begun—don’t drink yourself under the table!”

He glanced at Fang Xuanling, who was deep in thought, eyes drawn toward the main hall, then frowning at the sky above the city gate.

“Xuanling, you don’t believe it, do you?” Xue Shou asked, incredulous.

Wang Ji, swallowing his mouthful of wine, also looked at Fang, not quite convinced himself—this was, after all, the seat of Huaiyang commandery, and today was the Xie family’s feast.

“But that young man who warned the Xie family—he believes it,” Fang Xuanling replied quietly.

“He can’t be more than twenty, and you, Xuanling…” Xue Shou said, half laughing, half exasperated, hinting at the years between them.

Fang Xuanling paid him no heed, his uncertainty deepening.

Elsewhere, among the visiting noblewomen, the rumor sparked laughter and lively debate.

Among three young ladies, one listened to the others’ remarks, noting her elder sister’s worried gaze toward the young man at the doors of the main hall, her own brows drawn in concern.

She glanced at the distant figure herself and muttered, “No wonder he dared to approach my sister today—he’s clearly lacking sense.”

This was Lai Ling, who, along with Wei Yanyu and another maiden, stood in the courtyard, each attired in short-sleeved skirts, each with her own charm.

“Lai Ling, do you know him?” asked Li Huanzhu, daughter of Li Shentong of the Li clan of Longxi, whose beauty was equal to Wei Yanyu and Lai Ling, though she bore a serene air. The three, blessed with both noble birth and friendship, were close.

“You weren’t here earlier, Huanzhu. I ran into him with Yanyu on the street…” Lai Ling began, relaying the encounter.

Li Huanzhu listened in astonishment. When she glanced at Wei Yanyu and saw a hint of embarrassment, her surprise only grew. No wonder, while others were laughing at the young man, Yanyu alone watched him with worry instead of disdain.

“And does he…” Li Huanzhu began, glancing between the hall and Yanyu.

“He deserves it! Believing everything he hears, without thinking who would dare attack Wanqu,” Lai Ling muttered, noticing the concern in Yanyu’s eyes, then snapping, “Whoever started this rumor is truly wicked!”

Li Huanzhu nodded in agreement. It was indeed mean-spirited to send Zhao Han to the Xie mansion with such words, while hiding oneself away.