ODF Chapter 1

In Spring, the 27th year of Jianyuan in Great Qi, the nobles of Bianjing were all lamenting the fate of a young lady.

She was the only daughter of the prestigious main branch of the Shen family, born with ethereal beauty and exceptional talent. Her father held the noble title of Duke, and her mother was bestowed the title of Princess Zhenguo. By all accounts, she should have lived a life of ease and fortune. Yet, she was betrothed in a most unfortunate match: to the second son of the Huo family, a man stationed at the border whose legs were crippled.

And the one who arranged this marriage? None other than the reigning Emperor himself, whose will not even the esteemed Duke Ying or Princess Zhenguo could defy.

As for the reason behind this imperial decree, the entire court knew it well. Years ago, the Huo family’s second son, with little else to occupy him, had planted a forest in a feng shui-blessed land near the border. Over time, the trees grew tall and dense, and by sheer coincidence, they blocked the spring invasion of the Western Qiang cavalry. For this unexpected merit, he was rewarded with a marriage.

He merely planted a few trees, but ended up with a fairy for a wife. Huo Erlang[mfn]Erlang refers to the second son of a family[/mfn] truly made others green with envy.

But it was a pity that Young Lady Shen was in the prime of her youth. For fifteen years, she had been the cherished jewel of the Shen household, and now she was to be sent off to some desolate frontier to endure the bitter northwest wind.

Of course, sympathy abounded, but only behind closed doors, in hushed sighs. The dust had settled and the imperial decree could not be defied. Even if the truth stung, one still had to smile through it and offer a polite “Congratulations” to Duke Ying.

Poor old Duke, forced to wear a full-faced grin, though every wrinkle on his face spelled out one thing loud and clear: Even if a turtle chants sutras, your father still won’t listen![mfn]No matter how earnestly or wisely someone speaks, it’s all wasted on someone who refuses to hear it.[/mfn]

No wonder the usually mild-tempered Duke had such crude thoughts etched into his creases. If Huo Erlang were merely crippled, the Shen family might have accepted it. But who were the Huo family?

Twenty-seven years ago, they were fierce generals, loyal to the last Emperor of the previous dynasty, clashing swords with the current sovereign!

Back then, the new Emperor had shown mercy and spared the Huo clan. But now what was he playing at?

Two children—one bearing the blood of the new dynasty, the other carrying the debt of the old. Even if the Huo family had spent years stationed at the border and their rebellious spirit was worn down by the harsh conditions, this was by no means a good match.

As the wedding date of April 17th approached, misfortune struck the Duke’s household like a leaking roof in a night-long storm. Young Lady Shen had gone missing.

After receiving the imperial decree for her marriage, Shen Lingzhen had shut her doors to guests for days and remained steeped in melancholy. One day, Duke Ying thought to lift her spirits with a trip to the Peach Blossom Valley outside the city. But in a moment of carelessness, his daughter vanished.

Gone with Shen Lingzhen were her personal maid and her maternal cousin, Xue Jie, who had “just happened” to pass by Peach Blossom Valley.

Xue Jie had known Shen Lingzhen since childhood and had once been the Duke’s favored candidate for a son-in-law. Suspicion stirred: the boy’s so-called coincidence seemed anything but. Had he conspired with the young lady to elope?

At first, the Shen family kept quiet, discreetly joining forces with the Xue family to search for them. But by dusk, they found the maid’s lifeless body. Xue Jie, however, returned home unharmed, utterly baffled, swearing he had done nothing so scandalous.

This threw the old Duke into a panic.

The situation was dire enough to alarm the Emperor himself. The imperial guards were dispatched to search the city and its outskirts. Near the second watch of the night, they finally found Shen Lingzhen—unconscious, her robes soaked in blood—in a cave deep in the mountains outside the city. She was swiftly returned to the Duke’s residence.

At the sight of his daughter’s condition, Duke Ying nearly fainted. But upon closer inspection, he realized the blood had only stained her garments and it wasn’t hers.

The physician examined her pulse and reported that she had only suffered a few minor scrapes. Her unconsciousness was due to shock and fever, and she would awaken soon.

Relieved, the Duke finally allowed himself to sit and listen to Princess Zhenguo’s stern counsel.

But the truth behind the incident remained unclear, and Zhao Meilan had no heart to scold the man, who had lost their daughter. She simply sat by Shen Lingzhen’s bedside, brows furrowed, silent for a long while before finally speaking: “Whose cloak is that?”

Duke Shen Xuerong with his head bowed, stood awkwardly to the side. At her words, he followed her gaze to the wooden rack, where a bloodstained black cloak lay draped. His expression mirrored her confusion. “When the guards found Yingying,” he said, “that cloak was covering her.”

“Yingying” was Shen Lingzhen’s nickname.

But she had clearly left the house wearing only a shirt and skirt. And judging by the size and style of the cloak, it certainly wasn’t something a young lady would wear.

Zhao Meilan’s expression turned cold. She picked up the cloak and examined it closely, noticing a golden emblem embroidered near the hem—an outstretched-winged tiger, fierce and majestic.

She held it under the lamp. The embroidery thread shimmered brilliantly in the candlelight, its golden glow undimmed by dust and grime. This was no ordinary garment.

She frowned. “Which family bears this crest?”

Shen Xuerong shook his head, indicating he didn’t know.

Judging by the fine thread and exquisite craftsmanship, it could only belong to a noble house. And the tiger motif likely pointed to a military lineage. Yet despite their status and experience spanning two dynasties, neither of them recognized the emblem.

That was strange.

Shen Xuerong said, “We’ll ask Yingying when she wakes.”

Zhao Meilan nodded. But as she folded the cloak, her fingers brushed against something unusual. There seemed to be a hidden layer sewn into the lining.

She reached inside and pulled out a silk handkerchief. When she unfolded it, her face paled in shock.

Meanwhile, Shen Lingzhen stirred from a night of fevered dreams. As the first light of dawn crept in, she awoke groggy and disoriented, barely able to tell where she was.

The day before, not long after she and her father arrived at Peach Blossom Valley, a servant from the Xue household had quietly passed a message to her maid: Xue Jie had urgent matters to discuss and wished to meet her in private.

She had always been close to this maternal cousin, so she did as he asked. She sent her father and the attendants away, keeping only one maid by her side as she went to meet him.

Only upon arriving at a secluded corner of the valley did she learn the true reason for the meeting: he had come to speak of her marriage. He claimed to have a plan that could delay the wedding, and if she agreed, he would begin preparations immediately.

Although Shen Lingzhen disliked the match, she feared angering the Emperor and bringing misfortune upon both families. She rejected Xue Jie on the spot, and the two parted on unhappy terms.

In a fit of frustration, Xue Jie rode off alone. On her way back, she was ambushed by a group of bandits and dragged onto a carriage.

Just as these memories surfaced, Shen Lingzhen was jolted back to awareness by a voice calling, “Fourth Young Lady.”

Counting the second branch of the family, she ranked fourth among the girls of her generation in the Shen household.

The maid attending her saw she had awakened and immediately sent someone to summon the Princess. She poured a cup of water and gently helped Shen Lingzhen drink.

No sooner had she quenched her thirst than her mother arrived.

“Mother…” she murmured.

Zhao Meilan hurried to the bedside, sat down, and patted her daughter’s shoulder. “My dear Yingying, it’s all right now.” After a few words of comfort, she asked, “Yingying, what exactly happened yesterday? You had a full escort. How could something like this occur?”

Just moments ago, Shen Lingzhen had looked tearful and aggrieved. Now, at her mother’s question, her eyes flickered evasively.

“I… I wandered off for a bit. I was just playing around…”

“Yingying!”

Shen Lingzhen shuddered at her mother’s rebuke, and finally recounted everything that had happened with Xue Jie.

Zhao Meilan sighed quietly. “And how did you escape afterward?”

At this, Shen Lingzhen suddenly looked up. “Mother, where is my savior?”

“Savior?”

“The man who was with me in the cave, he wore armor and a helmet.”

When she’d been abducted, the carriage had sped away wildly. Her mouth was stuffed with cloth, rendering her cries useless. She had no idea where she’d been taken. Fortunately, a passing stranger had drawn his blade and fought fiercely against the bandits, risking his life to save her.

But Zhao Meilan said, “The imperial guards only found you alone in the cave.”

“He was badly wounded. Where could he have gone?” Shen Lingzhen murmured, clutching her mother’s hand. “Mother, we must send someone to find him.”

“If he saved you, we must indeed search for him.” Zhao Meilan gently patted her hand in comfort, then pointed to the cloak nearby. “This cloak, is it his?”

Shen Lingzhen nodded.

After rescuing her, the man had led her to shelter in the cave. Seeing her clothes torn by thorns, he had given her his cloak to cover herself.

“Do you recognize him?”

“His helmet covered his face completely. I couldn’t see him clearly. His voice didn’t sound like anyone I know.”

Zhao Meilan drew a neatly folded piece of sky-blue silk from her sleeve and unfolded it. “Then what about this writing? This handkerchief was found inside the cloak.”

Shen Lingzhen leaned forward. In the lower left corner, a single character—愈 (yu)[mfn] means improvement[/mfn]—was embroidered in gold thread. Above it, two lines of plum-blossom script, faded with age, read:

 

At Jade Pass and Yangguan, war smoke rises, Barbarian riders breach the lands of Hexi. Spring is unseen; wild grasses grow untamed. 

The general mounts his steed, sword at his side— He vows not to return till Loulan falls. When will dawn come? My heart burns with longing.

 

“This is my handwriting…” Shen Lingzhen murmured as she read, then exclaimed in surprise, “But I didn’t write this!”

Zhao Meilan, of course, already knew it wasn’t her daughter’s doing.

The first stanza of the poem referenced “Jade Pass” and “Yangguan”—two key frontier outposts in the old Hexi region. Yet Hexi had ceased to be part of Great Qi’s territory a decade ago, and its fortresses had long since been abandoned. Where, then, could this “war smoke” be rising?

Looking at the second stanza, it wasn’t hard to guess that the poem had been penned by a young woman secretly admiring a general. But Shen Lingzhen had spent her days cloistered within the inner courtyards, how could she have come to know any generals?

No matter how one reasoned it, this poem simply couldn’t be her work. Zhao Meilan’s question had merely been a way to confirm the handwriting.

Though young, Shen Lingzhen had already earned praise for her skill in calligraphy and painting. Her plum-blossom script was precise and elegant, with a style that was uniquely her own. Even she couldn’t deny that the imitation was astonishingly accurate.

Perplexed, Shen Lingzhen unfolded the silk handkerchief again, hoping to find more clues. Turning it over, she discovered two more lines of text.

This time, the semi-cursive script was bold and graceful. Its upright strokes powerful, its slanted strokes refined. The brushwork was deeply etched yet fluid, clearly not her own. And compared to the earlier lines, the ink was noticeably fresher:

At the banks of Hexi, spring grass grows green. After all these years, it now flourishes again.

“How much of it is worth it in history?” “Why bother leaving a name after death?” “Better to remain lost in a dream of Nanke, Where even parting in death feels like separation in life— Waking, my heart aches; dreaming, it aches still.”

 

Shen Lingzhen felt a sudden jolt in her chest. Her eyes welled up inexplicably, as though tears were about to fall, but the impulse vanished as quickly as it came, leaving no trace behind.

She gathered herself and read the poem again, slowly. It seemed to her that the general, having returned from a distant campaign years later, had written this as a reply, unable to meet his beloved face-to-face, separated forever by life and death.

A love never spoken aloud. A young woman who died too soon, and a general who gave his heart to the nation, achieving glory but carrying regret for life. A sorrowful tale of moonlight and longing, if only the poem hadn’t mentioned the names “Zhenzhen” and “Yinyin[mfn]the words yinyin were mentioned 3 times in the 4 lines[/mfn].”

Shen Lingzhen shook her head. “Mother, even if I don’t wish to marry, I would never have such a secret affair.”

Besides, she was very much alive.

“I know,” Zhao Meilan replied gently. “But I can’t understand what purpose someone would have in imitating your handwriting. If it were to frame you for an illicit romance, it doesn’t quite add up.”

“What do you mean, Mother?”

“Do you know the name of the second son of the Huo family?”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“His name is Liuxing. His courtesy name is Yu.”

Shen Lingzhen lowered her gaze once more to the silk handkerchief. The shimmering gold character “Yu,” and the name “Liuxing” appearing alongside “Yinyin” in the poem, caught her eye in an instant.

She stared blankly. “You mean… these two poems are referring to me and Second Young Master Huo?”

If he was her legitimate betrothed, then talk of a secret affair made no sense.

But that only made the poems harder to explain.

Huo Liuxing, though once a valiant youth who rode into battle, had never earned the title of general. At seventeen, he was captured by Western Qiang during a northern campaign. Though he escaped with his life, both of hislegs were crippled. Since then, he had spent the past ten years confined to a wheelchair.

A man so gravely injured, what general could he be now? What army could he possibly lead?

And if this story dated back ten years, Shen Lingzhen had been just a child. What could she have known of love and longing?

To go to such lengths to craft a silk handkerchief, only to tell a tale so wildly implausible, it baffled not only the innocent Shen Lingzhen, but even the shrewd and seasoned Princess Royal.

Clearly, the only way to unravel this mystery was to find the true owner of the handkerchief.

Zhao Meilan turned her attention to the man’s appearance and attire.

Shen Lingzhen recalled, “He was quite tall, at least a head taller than me. As for distinguishing features… When he was tending to his wounds in the cave, I saw a chilling old scar beneath his collarbone. And his sword, it was strange. Fierce and menacing in shape, yet carved with lotus patterns and inlaid with prayer beads.”

Blessed with an extraordinary memory since birth, Shen Lingzhen could recall even the faintest details with ease. At Zhao Meilan’s instruction, a servant brought brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. She asked her daughter to sketch the man’s scar, attire, and the design of his sword.

Once the drawing was complete, Zhao Meilan was stunned once again.

The helmet Shen Lingzhen depicted was adorned with cloud-dragon patterns, inlaid with golden phoenix wings, and topped with the same winged tiger emblem found on the black cloak.

Such a crest engraved upon a helmet was no honor granted to ordinary soldiers, nor even to most generals. This level of distinction was comparable to that of a Grand General.

Yet the title of Grand General was the pinnacle of military rank, above even the Three Dukes. Since the founding of Great Qi, the position had remained vacant. If such a figure truly existed, how could Zhao Meilan, the Princess Royal, not know of him?

The matter grew ever more perplexing.

After a moment’s thought, Zhao Meilan carefully folded the silk handkerchief and the drawing. “Leave the search to me,” she said gently. “You should focus on resting and recovering.”