Chapter 1: Li Yun, Newly Born

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In the spring of 1456, it was said that Emperor Zhu Zuo of the Liang Kingdom, while searching outside the palace for beautiful commoner women, accidentally got into a quarrel with some thugs outside the palace walls and ended up drowning in the moat, his death both humiliating and absurd.

This was a catastrophe, for this hapless emperor, whose very character defied description, had yet to designate a crown prince. After a series of power struggles, the nine-year-old Prince Zhu Quan, bewildered and unprepared, ascended the throne, changing the reign title to Kai Ping and formally commencing his career as a puppet monarch.

Compared to the death of the emperor and the momentous struggle for the throne, the matter of the two wives of Li Fu, the county magistrate of Long County under Hanyang Prefecture, Liangzhou—so very far from the Central Plains—going into labor one after the other seemed utterly insignificant.

This year, Li Fu was already forty-five years old, an age at which, in these times, not only would one have children, but likely a brood of grandchildren as well.

But Li Fu was different. Perhaps he had health problems, for whatever the reason, this was the first time he was to become a father.

By rights, at long last with children about to be born, he should have been elated. But Li Fu was a man unlike others. For instance, when his two wives went into labor one after another in the morning, he sent someone out at once to fetch an old Taoist priest.

And so it was that while the two women inside the house cried out in agony, outside, Li Fu watched the old Taoist expectantly, as if the man might conjure his children into being.

The Taoist stood calmly, only glancing at the ceiling now and then. He saw nothing unusual—no wind, no glowing omens, nothing extraordinary.

He had always found Li Fu's features and fate to be unremarkable; how could such a man ever father a child destined to shake the world? Were it not for Li Fu's constant courtesy and the fifty or so catties of millet he sent him each month, the old man would have left this run-down county long ago.

As things stood, the world outside was in chaos—this year the imperial star itself had fallen, and surely troubled times were ahead.

The Taoist, after all, had but one head—should the axe fall, he too would die. He had but one mouth, and when dawn broke, he would yet have to feed his own belly.

So best to stay quietly in Long County.

Determined to please his destitute patron, the Taoist was already composing in his mind how best to fabricate a favorable fortune.

As he pondered, the sound of a newborn's cry came from within the house.

Though this was Li Fu's first time becoming a father and excitement was inevitable, he immediately glanced toward the left room.

Soon enough, the midwife emerged, beaming with joy: "Congratulations, sir! You have a fine son."

Li Fu's aged face split into a broad grin, though he quickly composed himself.

It was inconvenient to enter the room, so he instructed the midwife to wash and swaddle the child and bring him out.

The midwife would have advised that the newborn should not be exposed to the wind, but seeing Li Fu's brief smile, which soon reverted to his usual dour expression, she thought better of it.

Better not to meddle—after all, it was not her child.

Soon, a wrinkled infant was placed in Li Fu's arms.

The Taoist leaned in for a look. The newborn's fate appeared as a blank expanse, with only a faint blush of noble aura within the white.

This, after all, was to be expected. Li Fu was, at least, a county magistrate; Long County was impoverished, but he still held office. Naturally, his child would inherit some measure of official blessing.

Though cradling his child, Li Fu kept his gaze fixed on the Taoist's expression.

First, he saw the Taoist's solemn look and knew he was reading the child's fortune, so he did not interrupt. But then he noted a trace of disappointment on the Taoist's face, and his heart sank.

He guessed the truth.

"Master, please speak plainly," he said.

The Taoist folded his hands and smiled. "The young master's fate has not yet blossomed, and at his tender age, fortune is ever uncertain. But from his features, I see a trace of heroic spirit. Perhaps, in days to come, he will serve as a general or minister. He will surely be no ordinary man."

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This was indeed true.

The Taoist inspected the infant's features closely—they were quite decent. To say he would become a great general or grand minister was perhaps an exaggeration, but he might well serve as a lesser general or able officer.

Still, what harm in speaking pleasantly?

Sure enough, Li Fu's expression eased somewhat, though a hint of disappointment remained. He summoned the midwife to return the baby to the room.

Next came the turn of the other room.

After another half-hour, another infant's cry was heard. Soon, a second son, swaddled in red, was brought out by the midwife.

Li Fu, who had never had children before, was doubly blessed with two sons at once.

"Would you mind taking another look, Master?" Li Fu handed over the younger boy.

The Taoist glanced at him. His fortune was the same as the first, and his features, if anything, less impressive—an utterly ordinary child. Yet the baby was less wrinkled, fair and handsome.

As Li Fu passed him over, the child opened his eyes for a brief moment, startling the Taoist, but they closed again almost immediately.

The Taoist offered more pleasant words.

Li Fu understood—both his sons were ordinary, perhaps the elder a touch better.

Disappointment was real.

With a sigh, Li Fu thanked the Taoist and returned to his room alone. When word spread that the magistrate had been blessed with sons, the county's officials sent gifts, for which Li Fu had little enthusiasm, merely instructing his staff to deliver thanks and nothing more.

Thus the days passed, and before long, summer arrived. All was peaceful and uneventful, except that Li Fu gave his sons names.

The elder was called Li Yi, the younger Li Yun.

A few months passed. Yun, who had been confined indoors, gazed round with wide eyes, sometimes uttering odd, garbled baby sounds.

Sometimes, after making noise, Yun would suddenly stop, waving his tiny hands to cover his mouth, as if amazed by his own voice.

Whenever this happened, a woman would smile and pat him, gently lowering his hand.

She would say something to him, but Yun’s mind was so muddled he sometimes understood, sometimes not.

It was all very strange.

But an infant’s mind is too tender; there was little for his small head to ponder. Often, he would fall asleep in the middle of a thought and, upon waking, forget what he’d been thinking.

Fortunately, Yun did not mind his sluggish mind. He amused himself daily, most often raising his hands to look at his short, plump, soft fingers, as though they were some novel wonder.

The strange woman would help lift his hands, gently praising him, “What is our little Yun looking at? Such lovely little hands—truly our good boy.”

“Waa waa ah ah,” Yun replied earnestly in his own invented baby language, and sure enough, the woman would laugh and praise him again.

After admiring his own fair, plump fingers, Yun would return to practicing his baby babble.

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He always felt that the sounds he made were not as they ought to be... but what were they supposed to be? The woman caring for him always encouraged him to call her “mother.”

Mother?

What was mother?

In a muddle, Yun drifted off to sleep again.

The woman at his side, Xin Niang, saw her son had fallen asleep and quietly covered him with a small quilt.

She could never look at her son enough.

Her original name was Xian Ying. As a child, her family was of moderate means, and her father had even once been recommended for office. But misfortune struck; her father was imprisoned and died in jail, and her family suffered ruin. She was later sold into a brothel and, to spare her family shame, hid her identity and became known as Xin Niang.

She thought her life would end thus, but a few years ago, by chance, she encountered Li Fu, who redeemed her and installed her in his household.

She had no official status with Li Fu. Knowing how much he valued family background, she never expected or desired marriage.

She had no such ambitions, yet unexpectedly, she bore him a child.

From the start of her pregnancy, Xin Niang swore to raise the child herself, regardless of its sex. Once, she had hoped for some measure of marital affection from Li Fu, but now, whatever became of him was no concern of hers.

Perhaps because he was warm, Yun smacked his lips and thrust his hand from beneath the quilt.

Xin Niang took his soft little hand in hers, thinking how obedient he was.

According to the maids, Yi, the son of Madam Bu next door, cried constantly, inconsolable, leaving Madam Bu sleepless and even ill.

But her Yun was easy to care for, seldom crying at all.

When hungry, he would simply call out softly. When someone appeared, his bright eyes would follow their movements, full of cleverness.

Though it was her first child and she had no experience, Xin Niang knew her son was exceptionally well-behaved, and she cherished him all the more.

She couldn't help but kiss his tiny hand. Just as she set it down, the door opened and Li Fu entered, face solemn.

In truth, Xin Niang had scarcely seen Li Fu in these past months.

Both she and Madam Bu had just given birth, still recovering, so his absence was understandable. Madam Bu, it was said, had made a scene, displeased by Li Fu's apparent indifference toward the children.

Xin Niang, however, did not care, devoting herself to her child.

When Li Fu appeared so suddenly, Xin Niang was merely surprised to find she no longer felt her old delight at seeing him.

“I have been busy lately with agricultural matters and have scarcely seen the children. Let me have a look at Yun.”

Li Fu, noticing her coolness, assumed she was resentful like Madam Bu and tried to smile as he bent to pick up the sleeping boy.

Xin Niang instinctively leaned forward to reclaim her son.

Seeing Li Fu’s careless grip around the child’s waist, not even supporting his head, her face paled. Yet, mindful of his status, she did not know what to say.

Li Fu’s movement roused Yun, who opened his eyes to see an enormous, aged face looming before him.