Chapter 228: Hello Chang’an
Chapter 228: The Threshold of Being Human
Yuan Xiang lowered his voice. “These are the letters the Grand General discarded after writing…”
Dai Cong asked seriously, “Were they reports to the court?”
Yuan Xiang shook his head. “Reports to the court don’t need the Grand General to write them himself — the steward already drafted and sent those long ago.”
“Then…” Dai Cong’s tone grew heavier. “What could trouble the Grand General so much?”
Yuan Xiang leaned closer and whispered, “Our Grand General was writing a reply to the lady he likes…”
The Grand General likes a lady?!
The Grand General actually has someone he likes?!
The unexpected revelation left Dai Cong stunned — and then, somehow, it made perfect sense.
When he glanced at the pile of crumpled papers, he immediately understood… After all, he too had once been young.
No one can resist gossip of this sort — especially when the subject is their usually stoic, abstinent superior. Dai Cong cast another glance toward the study and, rather than hurrying to report in, pulled Yuan Xiang farther away.
Yuan Xiang resisted halfheartedly but followed the senior secretary to the end of the corridor.
“Could it be… that rumored Miss Chang?” Dai Cong whispered.
“You’ve heard of her even in Bingzhou?”
Dai Cong’s eyes widened. “So those rumors are true?”
“Of course…” Yuan Xiang sighed, a mix of melancholy and admiration in his tone. “Our Grand General is already twenty-two — it’s about time he awakened to such things.”
Dai Cong: “…Awakened to what?”
“I mean he’s finally enlightened,” Yuan Xiang said sadly. “If you’d been in the capital, you would’ve seen what he looked like when he publicly proposed to Miss Chang. Pathetic — like a cabbage nobody wanted even if it were free.”
Dai Cong looked at the letters in Yuan Xiang’s arms and sighed. “I didn’t see it, but I can imagine…”
“But Miss Chang is truly exceptional. It’s only natural our Grand General feels this way.” Yuan Xiang, though pained, was fair in his judgment.
“Then Miss Chang… really doesn’t fancy him at all?” Dai Cong asked.
That didn’t seem right — with a face like that, how could she not? When the Grand General was clean-shaven, even Dai Cong sometimes found himself dazed by his looks.
Seeing his doubt, Yuan Xiang sighed. “Looks don’t work. Miss Chang is the first beauty of the capital — she probably never gets tired of admiring her own reflection.”
Dai Cong nodded in understanding. Though he couldn’t quite relate to the problems of beautiful people, it seemed reasonable — aesthetic fatigue, perhaps.
“But it’s not that she dislikes him,” Yuan Xiang recalled the painful scene at the Hibiscus Banquet. “Miss Chang said she only regards the Grand General as family — a close friend at most.”
It was that single word “family” that sent the Grand General astray that day — he had immediately handed her his bronze tally token.
“Not hopeless, then,” Dai Cong encouraged. “So besides that proposal, what else has he done? Tried to please her? Rescue her heroically, perhaps?”
Yuan Xiang frowned. “Pleasing her, I’m not sure. But rescuing her — many times.”
Dai Cong’s eyes lit with anticipation.
Yuan Xiang sighed. “But every time, he ended up useless. Miss Chang can paint and compose poetry that makes her famous in the capital; she can strategize and even convict the Holy Emperor’s own nephew; she excels at polo, and her archery and riding are unmatched — she even tamed the late Crown Prince’s warhorse.”
After a long silence, Dai Cong finally smiled toward the study.
Now he understood.
He had often wondered what kind of woman the Grand General fancied — now he knew. The kind who was capable enough to never need him at all.
Yuan Xiang caught his superior’s smile and pouted resentfully.
Dai Cong chuckled. “So, what will the Grand General do with these discarded letters?”
“The Grand General told me to burn them.” Yuan Xiang hugged them tightly, wary. “Don’t even think of peeking — he forbade anyone from reading them.”
“Of course we wouldn’t,” Dai Cong replied lightly. “But I do have a suggestion…”
Yuan Xiang instinctively leaned closer to listen.
Meanwhile, in the study, Cui Jing still hadn’t managed to write a satisfactory letter.
He blamed it on fatigue and mental exhaustion — fearing he might say something wrong, he decided to rest for the night, then bathe and change clothes before trying again.
While writing the next morning, he also instructed Yuan Xiang to handle something peculiar. Yuan Xiang didn’t understand but obeyed.
An hour later, he returned. “Grand General, it’s been thoroughly washed, as you ordered.”
“Good.” After ruining two more drafts, Cui Jing finally sealed one letter, then said, “Bring me scissors and needlework — I need them.”
Yuan Xiang: “…?”
That night, Cui Jing sat under the lamplight, awake till dawn.
News that the Bingzhou Rebellion had been quelled reached the capital, bringing relief to the court and commoners alike.
With Yangzhou and Runzhou already fallen to the Xu rebels, the southern war was dire enough; had Bingzhou also been lost, Da Sheng would truly have plunged into chaos.
The Holy Emperor sent envoys to escort Xiao Chuan to the capital for trial — his confession, she thought, was still questionable and needed further interrogation.
Those envoys also carried an imperial decree rewarding Cui Jing.
At the Cui estate in Anyi Ward, rewards arrived as well.
The messenger was Yu Zeng, head of the Palace Administration Bureau — someone of his rank seldom delivered decrees personally, proving how much importance the Holy Emperor placed on Cui Jing’s campaign.
Everyone noticed.
To most of the Cui clan — especially Cui Heng — it was further proof that Cui Jing was now branded “the Empress’s hound.”
Restless and bitter, Cui Heng locked himself away in his study.
Madam Lu, however, joyfully accepted the rewards, served Yu Zeng tea, and slipped red envelopes to the eunuchs.
If Cui Heng had seen it, he would’ve been furious enough to smoke from the ears.
After sending off Yu Zeng’s party, Cui Lang held the reward list and sighed. “To have such a son, if I were Father, I’d kowtow to Buddha a hundred times a day in thanks…”
“Don’t speak nonsense,” Lu Shi scolded, lowering her voice. “Such a happy day — why jinx it?”
Cui Lang sighed again. “I just think Father’s already old, with elders above and children below — why does he still take things so hard?”
“Precisely because he has elders above and children below,” Lu Shi said with feeling. “Others must work to support their families — but your father? The elders are capable, and the children outstanding. Has he ever had to earn a living for a single day?”
Cui Lang nodded. “True. In his case, ‘elders above and children below’ just means being supported by both ends. Not a bit of hardship, not a bit of effort.”
By that logic, their father had redefined the human life cycle — a rare specimen in the history of mankind’s “cultivation.”
Such fortune could only be earned through lifetimes of virtue — perhaps since the dawn of creation itself.
Cui Lang almost envied him.
Cui Tang then asked, “Father’s alone in his study. Should we check on him?”
“Leave him be,” Lu Shi said. “He likes peace and quiet — let him have it.”
She turned to the steward. “Send all gold and silver rewards to the Xuanzhe residence — store them in our eldest’s private vault. Such vulgar money shouldn’t stay here to offend his eyes.”
The steward nodded stiffly — Madam was truly skilled in “yin-yang logic.”
She also selected useful items for Cui Jing and had them sent along.
For years, every reward from the court had been treated the same.
To her, these were earned with her eldest’s blood and life; though the glory went to him, the fallen soldiers’ families still needed support. Besides the state’s compensation, Cui Jing often provided his own aid — expenses were heavy.
He had never taken a single coin from the clan, only brought honor and wealth to it. As mistress of the house, it was her duty to plan ahead for him.
After all — he still hadn’t married!
A future bride’s dowry must be well prepared.
Having arranged everything, Lu Shi happily took her son and daughter to the study to write a letter to Cui Jing.
It was something she’d long wished to do. Before, she’d had no reason — but now, her eldest had publicly called her “Mother”!
What mother wouldn’t write to a son who had just survived danger and won great merit?
Lu Shi dictated, Cui Lang wrote, and Cui Tang helped.
At first, Cui Lang was eager — but soon, he was in agony. “Who writes letters like this?!”
Six whole pages — and they weren’t done!
Did they even know the difference between a letter and a novel?
“This is barely halfway,” Cui Tang frowned.
How could two brothers be so different? One was out there saving the empire; the other couldn’t even finish a letter without whining.
Indeed, it reminded her of last night’s talk with Mother —
They’d sighed that, whenever they thought of their eldest, the “threshold of being human” seemed too high — that they themselves were hopelessly mediocre.
Mother had comforted her: Never mind. Isn’t there your second brother? He’s there to lower the threshold for us all. With him around, what’s there to worry about?
Hearing his complaints now, Cui Tang snatched the brush and wrote herself.
The three of them wrote till dusk, leaving Cui Heng alone in his misery.
No one came to soothe him. Usually, his wife would have brought soup at least — but now, she didn’t even acknowledge him.
When he asked why, he was told Madam Lu was busy writing to her eldest son.
Cui Heng: “?!”
So all their hearts now belonged to that unfilial brat!
That night, no one cared about his sulking — but Cui Lang slept soundly, heart at peace knowing his brother was safe.
Next morning, swaggering into the Imperial Academy, he was swarmed by classmates asking about his brother’s exploits — basking in their envy.
After class, he walked home with Qiao Yubai, still talking nonstop.
Thanks to his “master-disciple” connection with Chang Suining, his shameless persistence, and his fearless declaration — ‘Grand Master surely doesn’t know, but I love fish the most!’ — Cui Lang had earned the right to dine at Grand Master Qiao’s house daily.
As they entered the courtyard, he spotted Qiao Yumian.
The young lady wore an ochre cloak, her hair neatly pinned with simple jade hairpins, and a pale silk cloth covered her eyes, tied behind her head.
“Miss Qiao!” Cui Lang greeted warmly. Seeing the cloth, he asked, “What’s this for?”
“Physician Sun’s orders,” she replied. “I’ve seen flashes of light lately. He told me to keep my eyes covered.”
“Flashes of light?” Cui Lang gasped in delight. “Miss Qiao — you can see light again?”
She smiled. “Not clearly yet, but the physician says it’s a good sign.”
At first, she hadn’t dared to hope. But those faint flashes — unseen before — gave her faith that the doctor Suining found might indeed be extraordinary.
“That’s wonderful!” Cui Lang beamed. “Maybe soon, you’ll see again!”
Qiao Yubai looked at him — why was this boy’s joy greater than his own brotherly concern?
Qiao Yumian only smiled softly, her face full of quiet hope.
Truth be told, she’d long been curious — what did this Sixth Young Master Cui actually look like?
She had an image in her mind, though she wasn’t sure if it matched reality.
She hoped one day she could see for herself.
As they spoke and walked toward the dining hall, they heard that Xi Zhiyuan had arrived.
To their surprise, he came to bid farewell.
“You’re returning to Dongluo?” Cui Lang asked.
“Yes,” Xi Zhiyuan replied. “Family matters — urgent ones.”
“Will you come back later?”
“Not soon, I fear.” He smiled. “But I believe — we’ll meet again.”
He had planned to leave ten days ago when a “family letter” arrived, but he’d stayed, hoping to say goodbye to a certain girl in person. Yet she hadn’t returned, and he could delay no longer.
Cui Lang was reluctant. “You’re leaving, Master’s gone who knows where… without our Polo Society, we’ll be short on players.”
Qiao Yubai sighed inwardly.
He already sensed that Suining’s journey wouldn’t end quickly.
Those carefree polo days by the riverside — they might never come again.
Many years later, when Qiao Yubai looked back, he would realize this time was like a river dividing his youth — on one side, laughter and ease; on the other, the start of each young man’s separate destiny.
And as Xi Zhiyuan said — they would meet again.
Half a month earlier, Li Lu had left the capital to visit his ailing mother in Yizhou and prepare for his marriage to Prime Minister Ma’s daughter, Ma Wan.
Not long after, Ming Luo also departed — her marriage escort procession leaving the capital. From her carriage, she had lifted the curtain once, gazing with reluctance and sorrow at the towering city gates.
That same day when the news of Bingzhou’s victory reached Xuanzhou, Chang Suining received a letter from Bingzhou.
But not just a letter.
She opened the small, heavy box that came with it herself.
Good night, everyone~
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