Chapter 37: The Tragedy at the Li Residence, The Cui Clan of Qinghe

Li Residence, Rear Courtyard.

With a servant opening the door, Fu Zihou and Fu Zhi hurried into the back courtyard. There, waiting for them, was Lady Tai. Fu Zhi, still out of breath, rushed forward and asked his wife if anything had happened after he’d left the Li Residence.

“Don’t worry! I’ve already spoken to Granny Li. She said that Cui Lüxing did ask about Zihou, even claimed to be his friend. Sensing something was off, Granny Li replied that our family had already left for Pengcheng. As for Lord Dou, he visited the Li Residence today to see Uncle. That’s all.”

Lady Tai reassured her husband, then turned her gaze to Fu Zihou.

“Little uncle, why did you pawn your sword? The Old Madam is waiting for you in the residence!” Lady Tai regarded Fu Zihou with curiosity, unable to fathom why he would pawn his beloved sword.

“How did Granny Li find out?” Fu Zihou, panting, widened his eyes at his sister-in-law’s words.

Fu Zhi, catching the confusion in his wife’s eyes, hurriedly explained that in their earlier haste, he hadn’t had time to tell Zihou. “Zihou, the pawnshop you went to is owned by the Li family! Aunt Bao saw your sword and brought it back to the residence.”

Fu Zhi turned to Fu Zihou as he spoke. Fu Zihou stood there, dumbfounded, looking at his brother and sister-in-law, helpless and amused at his own misfortune—sometimes, even drinking water can make you choke.

Learning that Cui Lüxing and Cao Zhan had already left, and that the Old Madam had concealed the incident, Fu Zihou’s worries eased.

“I’ll go see Granny Li,” he said, offering no further explanation, and quickly walked toward the back courtyard.

Fu Zhi and Lady Tai watched him go, then decided it was best to return home and inform their family, so they’d be cautious on the streets in the future.

Under the snow.

The rear courtyard of the Li Residence was lined with living quarters. Walking from the back door beneath the covered corridors, Fu Zihou soon saw Granny Li, along with Aunt Zhou, Aunt Bao, Aunt Wei, Aunt Changsun, and Li Cha, all gathered around a brazier in the pavilion.

Seeing this, Fu Zihou knew he couldn’t avoid them. He stepped forward and, under their expectant gazes, entered the pavilion.

“Zihou pays his respects to Granny Li, to my aunts, and to Miss Cha.”

He drew a deep breath and saluted each in turn—Granny Li, Aunt Zhou, Aunt Bao, Aunt Wei, Aunt Changsun—all looking at him, even his betrothed, Li Cha, sneaking glances at him.

At that moment, as Granny Li handed him his sword, Fu Zihou’s face burned with embarrassment.

“Take your sword, Zihou. If you still regard this old woman as your granny, come to me if you ever need anything. Don’t treat me as an outsider. I’ve already spoken to your brother and sister-in-law not to mention this to the family.”

Granny Li’s voice was soft, her expression mildly reproachful but full of warmth, reminding Fu Zihou over and over again to consider the Li family his own.

“Granny Li, I can’t accept the sword. I’d like to redeem it myself.”

Fu Zihou looked at his sword, awkwardly gesturing his refusal—he’d only take it back by paying for it himself.

At this, not just Granny Li and Aunt Bao, but even Aunt Zhou, who had spent a day and night kneeling in the ancestral hall because of the Fu family’s troubles, all looked at him in puzzlement.

Just as they were about to speak, Fu Zihou drew a small cloth from his breast, carefully unwrapping it to reveal a hairpin.

“Ah! Isn’t that the most beautiful hairpin from the Goguryeo Curiosities Shop?”

“It is! If I’m not mistaken, that hairpin cost thirteen thousand coins…”

Li Cha, her head bowed as she warmed herself by the brazier, was at a loss for how to face the young man. Suddenly, she sensed the hush around her, and then heard her aunts exclaim about a hairpin.

Before she could think further, she saw the exquisite hairpin appear before her eyes.

“Miss Cha, this is the first gift I’ve ever given you. I hope you won’t dislike it,” Fu Zihou said softly, holding out the hairpin.

Giving such a beautiful hairpin to Li Cha—surely no one would mock her again.

In the pavilion, seeing what had transpired, the Old Madam, Aunt Bao, Aunt Changsun, and the others finally understood why Fu Zihou had pawned his beloved sword, and why Granny Li had wanted him to take it back, yet he insisted on redeeming it himself.

For a moment, they were all both amused and touched by the gesture.

Especially Aunt Zhou, whose gaze grew complicated—for it was her daughter, Li Qiong, who had once been betrothed to Fu Zihou.

“Cha’er, aren’t you going to accept it?”

As Li Cha stared blankly at Fu Zihou, Aunt Changsun, half-laughing and half-crying, prodded her, casting her a half-exasperated look.

At this moment, though she’d only met Fu Zihou twice, in Aunt Changsun’s mind, he had already gone from being a source of worry to the best possible son-in-law in all the land.

“Hurry, now! Don’t leave your Fu Lang standing there holding it forever,” Aunt Changsun urged softly, seeing Fu Zihou’s nervousness at the thought of being refused.

Li Cha, nervous, looked at the young man before her, at the hairpin in his hands. Hearing her stepmother’s urging, she lowered her head, flustered.

The others exchanged helpless glances.

Aunt Bao, smiling, suggested that since Fu Zihou was so sincere, perhaps he should personally place the hairpin in Li Cha’s hair.

“…Oh, alright!” Oblivious to the thoughts around him, Fu Zihou nodded instinctively at Aunt Bao’s words. Turning to Li Cha, he waited a moment to be sure she wasn’t refusing, then stepped forward, carefully placing the hairpin in her hair.

“Thirteen thousand coins for a hairpin—thirteen thousand coins in your hair! In all the Li Residence, Cha’er is the first to know what that feels like…”

As Fu Zihou fixed the hairpin in her hair and noticed her cheeks growing red, Aunt Bao’s remark made him start, and he stepped back awkwardly, unsure what to say.

He certainly couldn’t admit that he’d bought it just to keep people from laughing at Li Cha.

But as the laughter faded, Fu Zihou noticed the ever-cheerful Aunt Bao suddenly lower her head, her eyes reddening with remembered grief.

The others said nothing, gently patting her on the back.

“In that case, Zihou, I won’t return the sword to you for now. When you have the money, you can redeem it,” the Old Madam said to Fu Zihou, glancing at her third daughter-in-law, who was thinking of her late husband. Yet even her voice had lost its former vitality.

Her third son, after all, was dearly missed by all the household.

“Cha’er, Zihou has never been to the library pavilion. Take him to see it. Be good,” Aunt Changsun said gently, turning away from the tearful Aunt Bao.

Li Cha, noticing Third Aunt’s tears, felt her own embarrassment fade, replaced by guilt and sorrow. Nodding at her stepmother’s words, she summoned her courage, glanced at Fu Zihou, and, seeing him watching her, lowered her head and led the way to the pavilion.

Fu Zihou knew Li Cha could not speak, so he silently followed. After leaving the pavilion, he paused and looked back.

He remembered his grandfather had told him—the man who killed Li Shuyun was named Xie Yan, a collateral descendant of the Xie clan of Chen Commandery. This was why the Xie clan protected him, and the Li family could only swallow their grief, unable to seek revenge.

Gazing at the pavilion, at the weeping Aunt Bao and the Old Madam’s vulnerable expression, he murmured, “The Xie clan…”

He recalled meeting the Xie brothers in Wanqiu.

Ahead, he saw Li Cha had also stopped, looking back at him in confusion.

Catching her startled, panicked look, he called, “Miss Cha, please wait!”

He hurried to her side and, facing the pavilion, asked, “Could you fetch Aunt Changsun for me? There’s something I wish to ask her.”

As Granny Li had said, he should not treat the Li family as outsiders. Now, he truly wanted to know what had happened to Li Cha’s third uncle.

His grandfather, knowing the Fu family’s predicament, had not wished to bring up painful memories before the Old Madam. But as a Fu, he could not turn away.

“Thank you,” he said as Li Cha, head lowered, silently walked back. Watching the delicate pearl on her hairpin sway, he couldn’t help but smile.

A moment later, standing with Aunt Changsun under the corridor of the Li Residence, Fu Zihou frowned slightly.

“Xie Yan?”

“That’s right. On the way home, he killed your third uncle. Since his father is Xie Zhen’s illegitimate son from the Xie clan of Chen Commandery, the family has always shielded Xie Yan,” Aunt Changsun replied, her gaze distant with painful memories.

“An illegitimate child?”

Aunt Changsun nodded. “Sixty years ago, during the turmoil of Hou Jing’s Rebellion, Xie Zhen fell into the hands of the Yuwen clan of Western Wei in Jiangling. Later, Xie Zhen served as tutor to Emperor Wu of Zhou’s brother, Prince Zhao Yuwen Zhao. Yuwen Zhao treated Xie Zhen well, and, hearing that Xie Zhen often cried in secret for his mother far away in Jiangnan, promised to send him home to Southern Liang when possible, and found him a companion. One of the maids bore him a son, Xie Siqin—Xie Yan’s father. Because he was born out of wedlock, the Xie family never spoke of him publicly, but having survived such calamity, the Xie clan is unusually united and looks after its own.”

She lowered her voice. “Zihou, you must never speak of this to outsiders! Xie Zhen’s legitimate son with Lady Kong, Xie Xiaozheng, died three years ago, but his second son Xie Long and other relatives fiercely protect Xie Yan. He must not be provoked! Even the Li family cannot touch him. If the Fu family were to draw his attention, it would be disastrous.”

“Rest assured, Aunt. I understand.” Fu Zihou nodded, relieved. As long as Xie Yan was not of the Xie clan’s core line, there might be a chance. Xie Zhen had been dead for thirty years; no matter what last wishes he left, surely after thirty years, Xie Yan, an illegitimate descendant, could not rival the true heirs.

After the rebellion and the fall of Southern Liang, with the Sui dynasty now tottering, the Xie clan’s recent marriage alliance with the Yangs was likely a precaution for troubled times.

Those five hundred thousand coins and other lavish betrothal gifts seemed intended to reinforce the Xie clan’s standing in their commandery and showcase their power.

Yet now, after the Xie family’s betrothal, Fu Zihou saw an opportunity.

But he knew, too, that to seize it, he needed something that could make the Xie clan wary.

Beneath the corridor.

“Cha’er, don’t blame yourself. What happened to your third uncle has nothing to do with you. It wasn’t your presence that brought him misfortune,” Aunt Changsun’s gentle voice drew Fu Zihou’s thoughts back. He saw her comforting Li Cha, wiping away her tears.

“Third Uncle and Cha’er’s father were always closest since childhood. When she was young, Third Uncle often took her out. After his death, she always believed she’d brought him bad luck,” Aunt Changsun explained softly, meeting Fu Zihou’s concerned gaze.

The world sees those born with disabilities as marked by heaven, bearers of misfortune. Two years ago, Li Cha hid in her room every day, sobbing in her stepmother’s arms, mouth open but voiceless, her face streaked with tears.

Since her uncle’s death, her father, Li Liyan, rarely spent time with her—he couldn’t even bear to see her.

Aunt Changsun knew her husband saw in Li Cha a reminder of his late wife and his lost brother, and feared the same fate would befall his new wife.

But it was Li Cha who suffered most—without her mother, having lost her beloved uncle, and now even her father unwilling to see her.

Aunt Changsun turned to Fu Zihou. “Zihou, Cha’er is afraid she’ll bring you misfortune too.”

Fu Zihou shook his head at her words, looking at Li Cha, who was weeping silently.

“Nonsense! I believe Cha’er will only bring me good fortune,” he declared.

He was about to say more when, not far along the corridor, he saw Li Qiong leading a young man and woman towards them.

Aunt Changsun, seeing this, was about to send Li Cha and Fu Zihou off to the library pavilion, but before she could speak, the young lady suddenly rushed forward, stopping before them and glaring at the hairpin in Li Cha’s hair, then at Fu Zihou.

“It was you!”

Cui Wenjin bit her lip, fury and urgency in her eyes. Her hairpin—her very first—was gone. Just like that, gone!

Li Qiong stood beside her, staring in shock at the hairpin in her sixth sister’s hair, then glanced incredulously at Fu Zihou.

“How much—name your price!” Cui Wenjin demanded, fixing Fu Zihou with a wounded look.

“Young lady, mind your manners!” the young man beside her chided, then quickly turned to Aunt Changsun, bowing. “Cui Yuzhe of the Cui clan of Qinghe, pays respects to Aunt.”

He then turned to Fu Zihou, apologetic, and bowed. “Please forgive my sister’s impatience. I, Cui Yuzhe, offer my apologies.”