Chapter 12: The Eldest Son, Ming Lan
The moment he stepped in, the atmosphere in the room subtly shifted. Ming Lan imperceptibly retreated half a step, creating a little more distance from his mother. Yan Xuerui’s smile faltered, and she reached up to adjust the loosened pearl hairpin at her temple.
“Were you delayed on the road? You’re back late today.”
Yan Xuerui rose to greet him, instructing the servants as usual to bring tea and pastries. Today, Bi He was not on duty, and the junior maid who came to serve the tea, unaware of the situation, was actually Yao Er.
Yan Xuerui’s eyelids twitched. Unwilling for Yao Er and Gu Yan to meet, she smoothly stepped forward to take the tea tray from Yao Er’s hands. Her fair, slender fingers, delicate as jade, had just touched the teacup when a sudden, searing pain shot through them.
“Hiss—”
The teacup clattered to the ground, shattering into scattered porcelain shards. Tea dripped steadily down Yan Xuerui’s rosy-red skirt. Just as Yao Er stood frozen in panic, a sharp pain suddenly exploded in her chest—she had taken a fierce kick from a man, sending her tumbling into the pile of broken porcelain.
“Stupid thing.”
Gu Yan’s face was dark as ink. He carefully examined Yan Xuerui’s hand, his voice cold as he snapped, “What are you all standing around for? Send for the physician!”
Everything had happened too quickly. Only now did Yan Xuerui snap out of her daze. Ignoring her wet skirt, she hurriedly said, “It’s nothing, it’s really nothing. My lord, I was just startled.”
Bi He and the other maids in the main courtyard all knew that the mistress was delicate and frail, the apple of the marquis’s eye. No one dared to take advantage of her gentle temperament to be careless. Even the temperature of the tea served daily was carefully measured—it had to be just right, neither a degree too cold nor a degree too hot.
Yao Er was both new to the task—this being her first time serving tea—and unaware of the usual standards. Moreover, she held a secret contempt and resentment toward Yan Xuerui in her heart, so she had not been particularly attentive. Yan Xuerui’s skin, pampered and delicate, had reacted sharply to the sudden heat, though she wasn’t actually scalded.
Today, Gu Yan was in a foul mood, and Yao Er had happened to cross his path at precisely the wrong moment. The kick he delivered had used only thirty percent of his strength; had it been an ordinary maid, she might have died on the spot from ruptured internal organs.
Yao Er, having some foundation, only had blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. She immediately knelt down, burying her head against her chest like a true servant, kowtowing repeatedly as she begged for mercy: “Please forgive me, Marquis! Forgive me, Mistress!”
Even though in her heart she had already sliced Gu Yan into a thousand pieces, when truly facing the wrath of Senior Tutor Gu, she was, after all, just a teenage girl. She could not suppress the fear in her heart.
Yan Xuerui did not look at Yao Er. Instead, she used her other hand to tug at Gu Yan’s sleeve, saying softly, “Gu Yan, don’t be like this. You’re scaring me.”
She truly had been frightened. Over the years, Gu Yan’s temper had become more restrained; it was rare for him to show such overt sharpness. Yao Er’s status was unusual, and Yan Xuerui feared that pleading for her now might backfire. Just as she hesitated, Ming Lan, who had been standing behind her, suddenly spoke.
“She’s just a clumsy maid. Please calm your anger, Father.”
He walked up to Gu Yan. At seventeen, the young man was already as tall as his father. Before him, he bowed his head.
“Mother is kind-hearted. She would never bear to see someone punished over a cup of tea.”
Gu Yan snorted coldly, having no mind to bother further with a mere maid, and led Yan Xuerui into the inner chamber to change clothes.
Yao Er, having narrowly escaped disaster, let out a heavy sigh of relief inwardly. She slightly raised her head. From her angle, she couldn’t see his full face, only the sharp line of the young man’s jaw and his tightly pressed thin lips beneath the fine brocade robes.
“Aren’t you leaving yet?”
The icy voice held a hidden warning. Yao Er ignored the faint flutter in her heart, used her sleeve to wipe the blood from the corner of her mouth, and withdrew with her head lowered.
…
The husband and wife went into the inner room to change clothes. One change of clothing took over fifteen minutes, and they still did not emerge. Ming Lan did not leave without permission, nor did he urge them. He called for someone to clean up the mess on the floor, sat upright in an armchair, and thought about that maid.
Unlike the lively and bold Ming Wei, as Gu Yan’s legitimate eldest son, Gu Yan had raised him with meticulous strictness—even more attentively than the Crown Prince. Ming Lan lived up to expectations: he excelled in both literary and military arts. While other boys his age in the capital were racing horses, fighting cocks, drinking, and carousing, he was already braving the fierce western winds, following his second uncle into battle against the Western Rong people.
Precociously mature, he had seen clearly what Gu Yan, in his concerned panic, had missed: the worry in Yan Xuerui’s eyes for Yao Er. Why was Mother so concerned about a maid?
He didn’t know, but the sharp intuition honed on the battlefield told him it was best to keep this matter hidden from Father on Mother’s behalf. That was why he had spoken up to save the maid.
Ming Lan’s brow was tightly furrowed in conflict, his expression complex, showing a hint of the youthful struggle he should possess at his age.
He was born two years earlier than Ming Wei, and his memory developed early, so there were things Ming Wei didn’t know that he did.
As a young child, he remembered his mother’s embrace as soft and fragrant. She would shake a rattle drum to make him laugh, gently stroke his forehead, sew clothes and shoes for him, hold him in her arms and hum long, lingering melodies.
But Mother was not happy.
Her limpid eyes were always filled with a constant sorrow. As a child, he didn’t understand. Later, as he grew older, he vaguely realized that Mother’s sorrow came from Father. Father always bullied her.
Every time Father came to the main courtyard, Mother would become like a bird startled by the mere twang of a bowstring. Then all the servants would be dismissed, the doors to the main courtyard would be tightly shut, and from within would come rough panting and a woman’s sobbing whimpers. He was about four or five years old at the time. Ignoring everyone’s attempts to stop him, he picked up his little wooden sword and charged inside.
Even if it was Father, he couldn’t bully his gentle mother. He would protect her.
…
That was the first time he was made to kneel in the ancestral hall. Father didn’t punish him too severely; after kneeling for one night, he was allowed to get up. After that, his muddled, ignorant childhood ended, and he began his education.
His education started early, focused mostly on Confucian classics, from the “Three Character Classic” to the “Book of Rites” and the “Classic of Filial Piety”—all about the duties of rulers and ministers, fathers and sons. Once he began his studies, he could no longer cling to his mother’s side all day like he did when he was little. Father treated him with authority yet not without kindness, holding his hand to teach him to read and write, taking him horseback riding and archery, scolding him for laziness when he didn’t get up for morning reading, but also preparing ointment for him when he got scrapes from riding.
The older he grew, the more conflicted Ming Lan felt inside. It was only then that he understood what the “bullying” he’d witnessed as a child truly was, and he realized why Mother was often sorrowful. As her child, she had given birth to him; he should protect her, just as he had when he was little—it was the natural bond between mother and son.
But… but he was also Father’s son! His father’s guidance and care, the sage texts he had studied since childhood—how could he defy Father?
Amidst these complicated feelings, Ming Lan grew to twelve years old. By then, the relationship between his mother and father had greatly improved, and he followed his second uncle to the northwest to gain experience. The northwest was harsh and windy, far less comfortable than the capital, but he secretly breathed a sigh of relief—he no longer had to be caught in the difficult position between his parents.
He returned once a year. Though Mother’s body was still delicate and she lacked vitality, her complexion was quite good, no longer shadowed by sorrow as it had been before. Father was gentle and considerate. Standing together, they made a handsome couple, deeply devoted like a pair of lovebirds.
Ming Lan gradually stepped over that hurdle in his heart. Though the beginning had been rocky, hadn’t it ultimately resulted in a good outcome? He also had two adorable younger siblings: a sister, bright and generous, and a brother, still a chubby little thing who made one’s heart soften just looking at him.
Harmony in the family leads to success in all endeavors. As the legitimate eldest son of the marquis household, he felt the rise and fall of the entire family rested on his shoulders. Setting aside the collateral and secondary branches for now, his father, mother, younger brother, and younger sister were his closest family. He would not allow anyone to disrupt his happy and harmonious home.
…
Thinking of this, a flash of ruthlessness passed through Ming Lan’s eyes. Just then, Gu Yan strolled out from the inner chamber. His face was like white jade, his eyes gentle, showing no trace of the anger from earlier. He had clearly been placated by Yan Xuerui.
“Your mother is resting. You may go back now.”
Gu Yan said this while unwrapping the oilpaper package on the table and putting the candied fruit into his sleeve pocket.
Ming Lan’s eye twitched slightly. Mother loved candied fruit. Father preferred spicy foods and disliked sweets. If Mother was resting, why was he taking the candied fruit inside? Clearly, he found Ming Lan’s presence bothersome.
He didn’t expose Gu Yan’s blatant lie, but asked with concern, “The physician is waiting outside. What about Mother’s hand?”
“It’s fine.”
Yan Xuerui was unharmed to begin with. Gu Yan waved his hand, dismissing both the physician and his son. As Ming Lan was leaving, Gu Yan instructed him, “Even though you are in the capital, you must not neglect your daily studies and martial practice.”
Remembering the earlier scene, Gu Yan felt displeased and added, “A man of stature, confined to the inner quarters—it’s unseemly.”
“Affairs in the capital are complex. Go out more, make friends, listen and think more. Don’t always come to disturb your mother.”
Ming Lan bowed his head in assent. Watching Gu Yan, who was clearly preparing to immerse himself in the inner quarters, he reminded him, “Today, while I was in your study, I saw Ming Wei.”
“She said she had important matters to discuss with you.”
Gu Yan suddenly paused. He rubbed the space between his brows and and said, “Tell her to come back tomorrow.”
Senior Tutor Gu was a man of his word, especially when it came to promises made to Yan Xuerui. Once he gave his word, no matter how difficult, he would see it through. But today he was in a foul mood and wanted to be with his wife.
Earlier, he had ordered that woman strangled in front of the Crown Prince, using it as a lesson, a small punishment and a stern warning. He was fully aware of the Crown Prince’s behind-the-scenes maneuvers. Even if his wings had hardened, he still couldn’t escape the Senior Tutor’s grasp.
Who would have thought that the always-weak Crown Prince would turn out to be a truly lovesick fool? A mere prostitute was actually worth him turning against his tutor.
Didn’t he know the emperor’s intentions were hard to predict, that the emperor praised the Crown Prince's faction openly but disparaged them secretly? Without Gu Yan maneuvering for him in court, would his position as Crown Prince even be stable?!
Remembering the Crown Prince’s heart-piercing words, Gu Yan felt irritable and did not keep Ming Lan longer. Ming Lan left the main courtyard, first going to reply to Ming Wei, then visiting his wet nurse to see his younger brother. Just as his mother had done for him when he was a child, he shook the rattle drum to amuse his brother, making the little one giggle with laughter. A faint smile finally appeared on his stern face, revealing a hint of the youthful spirit appropriate for his age.