(2) The Guo Family's Youngest Daughter

Tian Xu had now been recovering at the General's residence for a full week. Physician Zhou's diligent daily visits had made a real difference—Tian Xu's Cold Affliction had largely subsided, the shivering had stopped, though his complexion remained poor and his whole body still felt weak.

Tonight, the moon hung bright and clear. Just as the first watch of the night began, Guo Sheng's ten-year-old youngest daughter, Guo Huilian, pulled off her shoes and socks, tossed her shawl to her personal maid Xiaocui, hiked up her skirt, and began scrambling up a tree like a little monkey. This old locust tree, deeply rooted with lush, spreading branches, was her favorite in the whole Guo estate to climb—for no reason other than the view it offered from up high. She loved to climb up, plant herself on a thick branch, and gaze out over the beautiful sights of Chang'an. Even at night it made no difference; watching the bright moon and starry sky was one of the simple joys of her young life. There were trees in her own courtyard too, but none as tall as this locust in the western wing's yard, and none could satisfy her small ambitions—so ever since she was seven or eight, she had fallen in love with climbing this particular tree. Her mother, of course, forbade it, scolding that a proper young lady ought to be learning household accounts and needlework, not climbing trees like some wild little monkey—and worse, that she never learned her lesson no matter how many times she was punished. Once she married into the Yang family, what kind of household mistress would she make, behaving like this? How would she ever run a household?

But Guo Huilian's small head had no room for such matronly concerns. Running a household, being a mistress—all of that felt impossibly distant and unreal to her. Still, the family discipline stung, and her mother never held back when it came to punishment, as if the child's welfare had nothing to do with her at all. So little Huilian learned to be clever about it: she stopped climbing during the day, and instead, once night fell and her mother was busy going over the day's household accounts, she would slip off to the western courtyard and scale the tree with nimble, practiced ease. Perhaps there was some thrill in it too—this game of cat and mouse—though little Huilian herself couldn't quite explain why she loved it so.

At that moment, Xiaocui called up to the tree in an anxious whisper. "Young miss, come down quickly! Two guests are staying in the western wing, and they're both men. This isn't proper at all—if the mistress finds out, you'll be in for it."

Guo Huilian had held herself back for days now, precisely because of those two male guests staying in the western wing. Going there really wasn't proper, and if her mother found out, she'd be lucky to escape with only a long stretch of kneeling before the ancestral shrine rather than being beaten within an inch of her life. But she had waited seven agonizing days to check on that gravely ill young master, with no idea when he might recover, and she could bear it no longer. Under cover of darkness, she decided to risk it—after all, it was pitch dark, the leaves were thick, and who would even see her? Besides, who else knew these paths well enough to climb a tree in the dark like this? Who would ever imagine someone doing something so reckless? With that thought, her courage swelled, and she marched resolutely toward the western wing. Seeing her go, Xiaocui knew at once that disaster loomed, and chased after her, pleading the whole way, until she arrived breathless and gasping beneath the locust tree, unable to get another word out. By the time she caught up, Guo Huilian had already flung her shawl over and was scrambling nimbly up the tree. In that moment, Xiaocui truly wished she could die—caught between her young mistress and the lady of the house, both of them her masters, she really couldn't win either way. How was she supposed to bear this?

"Quick, grab my shoes and socks and find somewhere to hide—then no one will know I was ever here." Guo Huilian's voice floated down lightly from the tree into Xiaocui's ears. With no other choice, Xiaocui gathered up Huilian's shoes and socks from the ground, clutched the shawl to her chest, and crouched miserably behind the stone tablet inscribed "Locust Garden," ducking low and fending off the occasional mosquito. At least her face and the backs of her hands were the only parts left uncovered, so while the constant vigilance was unpleasant, she managed well enough—this was, after all, a task she had grown quite used to by now, and not particularly difficult.

But just as Xiaocui began to doze off, a rustling sound suddenly came from the tree. Guo Huilian, as if startled by something, scrambled back down in a hurry, taking the steps three at a time.

"Xiaocui! Did you see something? I thought some kind of dark shadow just flashed by," she whispered, frightened.

"What? Miss, are you seeing things again?" Xiaocui yawned lazily as she answered. In such pitch darkness, who on earth would come by? And even if someone had, she herself had been half-asleep just now—how would she have noticed anything? She could only offer a half-hearted response to placate her young mistress.

"Could I really have been seeing things?" Guo Huilian shook her head, unconvinced. She was quite certain she had seen something dart past just now—she wasn't even sleepy, so how could she have imagined it? She glanced around once more, and sure enough, there was no one else there. A sudden chill crept over her. She tugged at Xiaocui's sleeve, lowered her voice, and said timidly, "Could it be... could it be a ghost?" She curled her hands into claws, mimicking a spooky gesture, startling Xiaocui so badly that she swatted the hands away.

"Don't talk nonsense!" Xiaocui protested sternly, though her own heart was crawling with unease.

"You've just been reading too many of those ghost stories behind the mistress's back, and now you're spooking yourself over nothing..."

Even as Xiaocui scolded Guo Huilian, she herself was terrified underneath, merely putting on a brave face.

"It's called Records of Searching for Spirits—what do you mean, 'ghost stories'?"

Guo Huilian was only being stubborn; Xiaocui hadn't really said anything wrong. But being lectured by her own maid stung her pride, so she argued back anyway, however weak the point.

Xiaocui, however, paid no attention to her protests, grabbing her hand instead. "My dear young miss, please, that's enough. It's frightening. Let's just go back inside!"

And so, half-persuaded, half-dragged, Guo Huilian let Xiaocui pull her back to her own courtyard.

As it turned out, every word and sound Guo Huilian and her maid had made in the Locust Garden had carried clearly into the room where Tian Xu and Yueying were staying. Never mind that Tian Xu, still weak from illness, might have missed it—Yueying, with his extraordinary martial skill and keen hearing, could hardly have failed to notice every stir in the courtyard outside. He'd been on the verge of opening the door to greet the young lady of the house properly, but Tian Xu stopped him. As unrelated men, and at night no less, such a meeting would be entirely inappropriate and might harm the young lady's reputation—so it was better to feign ignorance. Just as Guo Huilian and her maid fled in a panic, convinced they'd seen a ghost, and as the maid inadvertently revealed her mistress's fondness for ghost stories, Yueying caught a glimpse of a faint, almost invisible smile flickering across his young master's face—gone again in an instant. Only once Guo Huilian and her maid had walked well out of earshot did Tian Xu turn to Yueying with a look of quiet, lingering weariness in his eyes. Yueying understood at once and answered respectfully, "That should be the youngest daughter of the Guo family—fourth in line, named Huilian, ten years old."

Tian Xu nodded faintly and said nothing more, then walked toward the gate on his own. Seeing this, Yueying hurried forward to open the door for him.

The moonlight tonight was not especially bright, occasionally veiled by passing clouds, which made Tian Xu—dressed all in plain white, his complexion still pale—appear all the more shadowed and subdued. Watching his young master's profile, Yueying couldn't help but feel a pang of tenderness and sorrow rise within him. He understood all too well how much Tian Xu had endured these past months, body and spirit alike worn thin, to the point that his old illness had returned. For all this time, gloom had settled over his young master's face, without a single true smile—save for that fleeting, ephemeral one just now, gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Tian Xu drew the plain white fox-fur cloak more snugly around his shoulders and stepped slowly out into the courtyard, Yueying following close behind, the whole walk passing in silence. Yueying knew his master had no wish to speak just now. His mother had died suddenly, and how could thirteen years of a mother and orphaned son relying solely on each other simply be set aside so soon, so easily? How could a boy of only thirteen possibly shoulder, overnight, the crushing weight of an entire family enterprise? Even though his mother had guided him carefully by the hand while she still lived, and even though the young master showed real promise, carrying much of his mother's own spirit within him, none of that could make this sudden, unforeseen upheaval any easier to bear.

Tian Xu lingered a long while beneath the locust tree in the courtyard, gazing up at the moon as it appeared and vanished behind the clouds, and sighed softly. Then, in an almost inaudible murmur, he said, "If it were Mother, what would she do?"

Hearing this, Yueying softened his voice, bowed respectfully, and answered, "Had my lady still been with us, none of this trouble would ever have arisen. Those scheming, restless men only dare to act this way because they see you as young and vulnerable. My lady may have had the compassion of a bodhisattva, but she also possessed the iron resolve of a warrior-king. You are the only son she raised and taught with her own hands—you above all should know that without her decisive, unflinching will, Yueyue Manor would never have become what it is today."

Tian Xu turned his face away, looking toward Yueying, who had not yet fully straightened up. In his heart, he could see only a bleak and uncertain road ahead—a manor lord who was merely thirteen years old would always be seen as easy prey by others, no matter how one looked at it, especially since he had not yet recovered from the sudden loss of his mother. Alone in the world, with no one to depend on, he was more vulnerable still.

"My lady always used to laugh and say you were 'two people in one'—on the outside the very image of your father, but underneath, in temperament and cunning, entirely her daughter. That is exactly why those shortsighted fools need to be shown that, apart from your youth, there is nothing else about you that can be exploited."

Yueying's words were meant as comfort, as encouragement—but they were also simply the truth. Ever since he was seven years old, chosen by the lady of the manor herself from countless candidates to serve as the young master's personal bodyguard—when the young master had been only three—he had spent ten years at his side. By now, Tian Xu scarcely needed to speak at all; a single glance, a single gesture, and Yueying could read exactly what was on his master's mind, to say nothing of how capable his master truly was. Of that, no one understood better than he did.

Hearing Yueying's words, Tian Xu fell once more into quiet thought. But only a moment later, both of them sensed someone approaching the Locust Garden.

It was General Guo Sheng.

From a distance, Guo Sheng spotted the master and his servant lingering beneath the locust tree and walked toward them with evident delight.

"I've been swamped with official duties these past few days and only just made it back today. I hear the young master can now get out of bed and walk about—looks like his recovery is going well. A full recovery must be right around the corner."

"Thanks to the General's great kindness, this life-saving grace shall never be forgotten by Tian Xu." Tian Xu offered a respectful bow.

"It was nothing more than a small effort—please don't trouble yourself over it, young master." Guo Sheng returned the bow, then added, "My wife told me your surname is Tian, but I never did learn where you're from."

"You have shown me such kindness, I would not dare deceive you. I am indeed of the Wei-Bo Tian clan, tenth in line. However, aside from sharing the surname Tian, I have never lived under the same roof as my father and brothers—since I was young, my mother and I have lived apart, at Yueyue Manor, running our own honest trade, with almost nothing to do with the military governor's residence. I only returned there once, when my father passed away, to fulfill my duty as a son and see him off on his final journey. Beyond that, there has been nothing else."

"The Wei-Bo Tian clan!" Upon hearing these four words, astonishment flickered across Guo Sheng's face.

Now, ever since the An Lushan Rebellion, the imperial court had sought to pacify and dissolve the power of the rebel generals by granting them military governorships on the spot, wherever they stood. Among these, Chengde, Lulong, and Weibo were known together as the "Three Garrisons of Hebei," and along with Ziqing, Huaixi, and other garrisons, they were counted among the most defiant and unruly of all the regional powers. In Weibo, after the death of Tian Chengsi, his nephew Tian Yue had succeeded him as military governor, thereby establishing the dangerous precedent of hereditary succession within the garrisons. From that point on, the strongest among the garrison lords increasingly passed power from father to son, appointing officials at will, raising private armies, withholding household registries from the central government, refusing to remit taxes to the court, rebelling and submitting by turns—all of which gave the imperial court no end of trouble.

And now here stood this very youth—none other than a member of the Weibo Tian clan itself: son of Tian Chengsi, and younger cousin of Tian Yue, the current military governor of Weibo. This was indeed a sensitive identity. Though he was not the governor himself, given the current tension between Tian Yue and the imperial court, if word reached the Emperor that a member of the Tian family had entered the capital, it would surely feel to His Majesty like a thorn lodged in his back.

As a man who served the crown, how could Guo Sheng fail to grasp the political stakes? For any military officer serving in the capital to become entangled with the Tian family was, on its face, no small matter. And yet this thirteen-year-old boy before him remained astonishingly calm and composed, showing a remarkably deep understanding of the current state of the realm. With just a few careful words, he had laid everything bare while also making clear that, aside from blood, he had no other ties to the military governor of Weibo—that whatever his father and brothers had done had nothing to do with him, and that he was simply an honest merchant going about his business.

Toward Guo Sheng, his life-saving benefactor, this young Tian had shown nothing but complete sincerity, openly revealing his identity without hesitation. As for why he lived apart from his father and made his own way in the world, that was a private matter of the Tian family, and he offered only the barest outline, careful to say nothing more than necessary. Such measured, appropriate conduct hardly seemed to come from a boy of only thirteen.

"Though Tian Xu has no real connection to the Tian clan, I still bear their surname. If the General has any lingering concerns, Tian Xu can move out of the General's residence at once—I would never wish to cause you any difficulty."

"Now, now, Tenth Brother, there's no need to worry. Never mind that you have nothing to do with your father and brothers—even if you actually lived at the military governor's residence itself, what of it? You're just a child. What could the decisions and actions of two successive military governors possibly have to do with a thirteen-year-old boy? Besides, as the saying goes: 'If you're going to send the Buddha off, send him all the way west.' Your body still hasn't fully recovered, and you need old Zhou's careful attention a while longer. What's more, there are no strangers passing in and out of the General's residence. Just don't mention where you're from to anyone else, and settle in here with an easy mind. Let old Zhou nurse you back to full health before you think of leaving." It was at this point that Guo Sheng recalled Yueying referring to the boy as "young master," and something clicked into place—no wonder he carried himself with such mature composure, never rattled, never rushed. Looking at the boy's sturdy frame, only a head shorter than his own, aside from that still-youthful face, there was little else to give away his true age.

"For someone so young, Tenth Brother, you see through things with remarkable clarity. To grasp the state of the realm so thoroughly is no small feat—you are truly worthy of your position as head of the household." Guo Sheng nodded, his expression full of the admiring approval one gives to a hero who has risen young.

Hearing this, Tian Xu bowed once more and said quietly, "Had I not lost both my parents, why would I ever need to occupy the position of head of household, bearing the full weight of an entire manor's responsibilities?"

Watching the shadow that crossed Tian Xu's face as he spoke of having lost both his parents, Guo Sheng felt a pang of sympathy. Here was a boy so young his Adam's apple had barely begun to show, and yet he had already lost the protection of both mother and father. Though he had no idea what sort of place Yueyue Manor truly was, from the way the boy spoke of it, it clearly amounted to no small enterprise—and the full burden of it now rested entirely on this young master's shoulders. The thought left even Guo Sheng feeling a quiet weight settle over his own heart.

"So this trip to the capital was purely for business, then?"

"Indeed it was." Tian Xu let out a soft sigh. "I never expected that this Cold Affliction, which hadn't troubled me since I was six years old, would flare up again."

Watching how mature and composed the boy was in every exchange, Guo Sheng found himself genuinely fond of him, moved with real sympathy—what did it matter that he was of the Weibo Tian clan? Looking around at all the sons of noble families in Chang'an, none of them seemed to possess this bearing, this quiet strength of spirit. They tended toward either excessive refinement or childish immaturity, some carrying an air of bookish pretension, others putting on affected charm—but none of them had Tian Xu's natural gravity, that understated brilliance hidden just beneath his brow. Perhaps, Guo Sheng thought, this was simply the mark of the hardy, fierce people of Weibo showing through in him.