Chapter 262

When Wang Xiujin heard that Li Linyi intended to seek a male spouse, he found himself mulling over many things. He was not adept at household intrigue, but that hardly meant he was incapable of deep thought. Was Li Linyi truly sincere in his desire for a male spouse, or were there external pressures at play? Wang Xiujin was no cloistered shut-in; he knew exactly what the world thought of him. To outsiders, Wang Xiujin—having married into the Li family—was unable to bear children. Even if he were to adopt and have the child registered under his name, the child would not be considered a legitimate heir. If Li Linshan were to take a concubine, it might be a different matter; yet right before the military exercise, the Emperor, in a highly significant setting, unexpectedly declared that should Li Linshan ever take a concubine, he would personally see to Wang Xiujin and Li Linshan’s separation.

Most believed the Emperor was acting in Wang Xiujin’s interests, but in truth, the Emperor was full of regret. Had he known Wang Xiujin possessed such talents, he would never have agreed to the previous Emperor’s arranged marriage, even if he had once feared the Li family’s influence. The Emperor now wished more than anything for Li Linshan to take a concubine, so that he might find a worthy match for Wang Xiujin within the imperial clan. The Emperor’s thoughts were unknown to others, but Li Linshan was delighted; with the Emperor’s golden words, he could easily ward off many who had designs on him. As for Wang Xiujin, he was preoccupied with earning money, and he felt that with or without the Emperor’s decree, if Li Linshan dared to take a concubine, he would not hesitate to petition the Emperor for a divorce.

The Li family’s inheritance would surely pass to the eldest son. General Li had three sons and a daughter; the current lady, Manager Mi, was a male spouse, and the former wife had borne a son and a daughter. The legitimate heir had also married a male spouse and could not take concubines. Thus, the second son, Li Linyi, became a much sought-after prospect in the eyes of many—marrying him might well mean becoming the mistress of the Li household. The ancients valued legitimate birth, but bloodlines were even more important. No matter how much the Li family favored Li Yachang, even with Lord Wang, esteemed by the Emperor, as his tutor and his status thereby elevated, in outsiders’ eyes, he was still not of the Li bloodline. Nonetheless, being registered under Wang Xiujin’s name and considering Wang Xiujin’s considerable wealth, Li Yachang would want for nothing in his lifetime. But it was only Wang Xiujin’s estate he could inherit; as for the Li family’s assets, no one expected anything for this adopted child.

Wang Xiujin paid no heed to others’ opinions. In his view, Li Yachang was a clever child destined for greatness. With his father guiding him and the Li family training him in martial arts, even without the Li family’s backing, he would make his own way in the world. Wang Xiujin’s concern was whether Li Linyi’s wish for a male spouse was genuine or merely to avoid suspicion; if it was the latter, there was little point. This was not something Wang Xiujin could say aloud. He could only approach his “little father,” hoping he might uncover the truth.

After hearing Wang Xiujin out, Manager Mi was silent for a time before agreeing. If, as Wang Xiujin suspected, Li Linyi’s decision was due to idle gossip, there was no need for it. They could not control outsiders’ opinions, but once someone married into the Li family, they would see to it that any improper intentions were nipped in the bud.

With Li Linyi’s matter set aside, Wang Xiujin brought up business affairs with Manager Mi. After some discussion, he took his leave, never mentioning the military exercises at all. Once Wang Xiujin had gone, Manager Mi sighed. He lacked Wang Xiujin’s composure; after just a few days, he was already worried. Though it was only an exercise, it still involved weapons, and even if the weapons were made of wood and wrapped in cloth for safety, he could not rest easy, fearing accidents.

Wang Xiujin, for his part, was unconcerned about that. What troubled him was the use of gunpowder. Swords and spears could be made safe with cloth, but there was no such thing as a blank charge for gunpowder—if someone were truly injured in an explosion, it would be a life lost. Even if those in power remained indifferent, Wang Xiujin would be left uneasy.

Returning to his own courtyard, Wang Xiujin entered his room to find Yachang, by the light, poring over a picture book. Wang Xiujin sat by his son, propping his chin on his hand as he watched him. "Yachang, do you understand what you’re reading?"

Yachang looked up at his father, nodded earnestly, and then lowered his head to explain the contents of the book. Wang Xiujin listened with great interest, already knowing the book’s subject, but finding his son’s halting narration especially endearing. Thinking of Li Linyi’s situation, Wang Xiujin’s lips curved into a faint smile. He had never believed that descendants should simply enjoy the shade of their ancestors’ trees; if one was capable, even without inheritance, one could build wealth. If one was useless, ancestral legacy would become a burden.

Wang Xiujin had already decided: when his time came, he would leave his entire estate to the Emperor, and for his descendants, only the five acres of good land his father gave him at birth.

He reached out to tousle his son’s soft hair. Since coming to the General’s residence, no one had cut Yachang’s hair; it was still the fine hair of infancy, wonderfully soft to the touch. Yachang looked up, puzzled. “Father, did I explain it wrong? Or was something not right?”

“No, nothing was wrong,” Wang Xiujin smiled. “Just keep reading. I have things to do.”

“Alright,” Yachang obediently bent his head back over the book. Yet Wang Xiujin did not leave. Instead, he let his thoughts drift, pondering many matters—not only Li Linyi’s, but also those of the Wang family. Should he bring up his elder brother’s situation? His brother had served away from home for years, and the two children left in the capital had little bond with their parents, making them naturally distant. As they grew, familial ties would only weaken. Even if they understood the reasons for their parents’ absence, a lingering discomfort would remain. Then there was his elder sister’s family; General Song was stationed afar, still holding military command. Even if the Emperor did not fear him now, who could say what the future would bring? Wang Xiujin could not say too much, nor could the Li family, but his father might.

There was also the matter of the academy. Once the curriculum was unified, Xinlou Academy would become a standard-bearer—making it a target for attacks from all sides. Not everyone’s attitudes would change so easily; the new curriculum might anger the old scholars, and Wang Xiujin was not sure whether the academy’s teachers could withstand the pressure. Then there were the picture books: the new tales, drawn from ordinary and noble families alike, might irk so-called men of letters. Wang Xiujin sighed; there was so much to worry about. Dealing with scholars was always taxing.

“Father, I’m sleepy.” Yachang closed the picture book, rubbed his eyes, and yawned.

Wang Xiujin immediately gathered his thoughts, summoned a servant to bring water, and after helping his son wash up, carried him to his small bed. Only when Yachang was sound asleep did Wang Xiujin, watching his peaceful face, frown slightly. Even now, he could not see the label above his son’s head. He had wondered about this often; he could see the ever-changing labels above the Emperor’s head, but when it came to his own son, his ability failed him. Too close? That could not be; parents were closer than children, yet this phenomenon did not occur with them. Wang Xiujin had even wondered if something had happened to Yachang when abandoned in the snow—perhaps he had died and come back, or perhaps someone else’s soul had crossed into his body. Yachang’s behavior had always felt strangely unlike a child’s.

Unable to unravel the mystery, Wang Xiujin could only comfort himself. Perhaps, in time, the answer would reveal itself. Even if it never did, he trusted that the child raised by himself and Li Linshan would not go astray. He tucked Yachang in and finally went to wash up himself. In ancient times, the night was meant for sleep.

That night, Wang Xiujin slept soundly. Meanwhile, in the palace, several officials stayed up with the Emperor, debating how to standardize textbooks and even ideology. The civil officials were divided into factions; though they kept a lower profile nowadays, the divisions were still there. Now, with the Emperor raising these issues, how could they not seize the chance to fight for more benefit for their own groups?

Lord Wang watched calmly from the side as the Emperor’s face grew darker and darker. The civil officials argued endlessly; none offered real suggestions. The Emperor longed to have these bickering men dragged out. Not a single useful outcome was achieved that night—those in favor and opposed argued heatedly, and those seeking advantage stoked the flames. The imperial study chamber was no different from a marketplace.

The Emperor had not expected the matter to be resolved in one night, but he had not imagined there would be no progress at all, only endless quarreling.

Lord Wang, on seeing the array of invited officials, had already anticipated this. He said nothing. Before morning court, as the Emperor went to change into his dragon robes, Lord Wang rose, smoothed the creases from his robe, and passed a faint smile over the assembly. The officials, after a night of arguing, exchanged glances, each a little stunned—had they truly quarreled in the imperial study, in the Emperor’s presence? Recalling the fate of those who had quarreled before the Emperor in the past, and noting Lord Wang’s silence all night, a chilling thought struck them: perhaps the Emperor’s talk of unifying the curriculum was just a pretext to observe their true behavior? If so, their performance had handed Lord Wang ample leverage. The officials’ faces turned grim as they made their way to court, steps unsteady.

The military officials, observing their wobbly gait, thought of the suggestion that civil officials should experience battle firsthand and shook their heads; such men would only be a liability on the battlefield.

At the very start of morning court, a report arrived: the military exercise had concluded the previous night. General Li’s troops had successfully executed a three-pronged surprise attack, encircling the enemy and leaving them powerless to counterattack—a brilliant victory against overwhelming odds.

The Emperor was overjoyed, the gloom of the previous night swept away. He praised them repeatedly: “Reward them, reward them handsomely!”

Author’s note: Since November 1st, when heating began at my home, the radiators have been cold; these days I’ve been busy dealing with the heating issue as well as severe writer’s block, so updates have slowed. Once my battle with the boiler room ends and the radiators are warm again, I’ll update diligently, tat. The radiators are icy, filled with cold water—feels like living in an ice cave. It’s freezing!