Lord Feng Said He Would Reply!

The Book of Changes said, "The sage faces south and listens to all beneath heaven."

In the Southern Capital, the imperial palace stood at the heart of the city, and due south was the most honored direction, where the Great Ming Gate and Upright Sun Gate towered majestically.

To the left beyond Upright Sun Gate lay a cluster of princely and noble residences.

Vermilion gates, high walls, sweeping eaves, interlocking brackets-every brick and tile breathed power.

Stone lions stood sternly before the gates, and lofty steps rose behind them. Ordinary folk took a detour whenever they passed.

The Feng Residence stood here.

It was late spring in the third month. Warm afternoon sunlight spilled over the spring waters in the Feng Residence's rear garden, setting them shimmering.

An exquisite pavilion stood beside the pond, its eaves sweeping upward. The plaque bore the words "Listening to the Waves" in strong, vigorous strokes.

A tea table stood inside. Spring water boiled over a charcoal stove, sending up steam.

Feng Yan sat alone at the table. Nearly seventy, neither stout nor thin, he had snow-white hair and whiskers, a hale spirit, and deep, penetrating eyes.

He wore a plain, full-length robe, with a jade belt at his waist and a gold-fish pouch hanging from it. Two maids stood beside him, their hands lowered respectfully.

Since stepping down as chief grand secretary, he had shut his doors to visitors for half a year.

The calling cards delivered each day piled up like mountains. He read none of them, merely ordering the gatekeeper to return them whence they came.

He no longer wished to concern himself with court affairs.

His former friends, students, and political enemies no longer had anything to do with him.

After all, a retired official ought to behave like one.

His Majesty had told him to retire, so he would retire in peace and never stir up the slightest trouble.

Just then, footsteps broke the stillness.

An elderly gatekeeper hurried through the corridor, stopped outside the pavilion, and bowed.

"Master, someone at the gate requests an audience."

Feng Yan did not even lift his eyelids. His gaze remained on the water.

"How many times have I said it? I will see no one. Send him away."

The gatekeeper did not move. He said quietly, "Master, that man said... he is an old friend of yours."

"An old friend? Heh." Feng Yan gave a scornful chuckle and waved a hand.

"Which petitioner doesn't claim to be an old friend of mine? Tell him..." As he spoke, he began raising his hand to dismiss the gatekeeper.

Unexpectedly, the gatekeeper hastily added, "He said his name is Wei An, and he was the book attendant of the Wei Family's late Duke Wenduan."

At that name, Feng Yan's raised hand froze in midair.

"Wei An?" He slowly lowered his hand, his brow creasing slightly. "Wenyue's book attendant..."

Feng Yan fell silent for a moment, then his expression darkened. He assumed Wei Mingde had sent Wei An.

After all, Wei Mingde had delivered a calling card half a month ago, and he had not replied.

He snapped, "Hah! That useless fellow! Seeing that I haven't replied, has he actually brought out his father's trusted servant to question me?"

"No." The gatekeeper hurriedly shook his head. "The old servant said he did not come on behalf of the Wei family head. He is delivering a calling card for the Wei Family's Second Young Master."

"He also said this card must not be left in the gatehouse. It must reach your hands."

"The Wei Family's second son... that ten-year-old Fiery Child?"

Feng Yan paused, recalling the recent rumors.

A ten-year-old child had drawn his sword and slain a servant to defend his honor, earning praise from His Majesty himself.

Even Qin Yan, who belonged to his bitter rival's faction, had shown the boy marked favor.

He had heard about it at the time, but had merely nodded slightly and thought, A fierce-spirited child, indeed, before putting it out of his mind.

Yet now that child's calling card had actually reached him-and the boy was Wenyue's grandson.

At that thought, Feng Yan smiled, his interest piqued.

"Bring me the card."

The gatekeeper presented the calling card with both hands.

Feng Yan accepted it and looked down.

On its cover were several lines of slender, vigorous, upright characters: [Wei clan junior Ni Sheng respectfully presents this letter to Lord Feng.]

The characters had the sharpness of swords, their turns seeming hewn by blades and axes, yet an air of pure nobility ran through them. They formed a style all their own.

At the sight of this handwriting, Feng Yan's gaze sharpened.

"What fitting handwriting for a Fiery Child, with strength like the bones of a sword!"

Over his decades at court, he had seen countless calligraphic works by renowned masters, yet never a script like this.

Slender but not weak, forceful but not dry, its sharp edges fully revealed without sacrificing its integrity.

That handwriting alone was enough to make him read on.

He unfolded the calling card and read it word by word...

After a long while, Feng Yan finished. He remained silent for some time, then slowly set the card down and gazed into the distance.

"What fine words: 'Pines and cypresses hold fast to their virtue through winter's cold, unchanged by frost and snow;

metal and stone possess a ringing voice, undimmed by the passing years...'"

He had read Wei Mingde's calling card, but it was nothing but pleasantries from beginning to end, asking in roundabout ways for protection and advancement.

Wei Nisheng's entire letter, however, never mentioned his father. It spoke only of his grandfather and himself.

A junior who asked only for a meeting.

An old friend's grandson who had not forgotten a promise made long ago.

The difference was clear at once.

"Brother Wenyue, you have a fine grandson."

Sitting alone in the pavilion, Feng Yan gazed at the water, his thoughts drifting back several decades.

He and Wei Zheng had passed the imperial examinations in the same year, entered the Hanlin Academy together, and struggled their way through officialdom side by side.

Later, he had gone to the Ministry of Personnel, while Wei Zheng had gone to the Ministry of Revenue.

The two had worked in perfect harmony, never once exchanging angry words.

Later still, he had entered the Grand Secretariat, and Wei Zheng had followed.

At court, everyone spoke of "Feng Half the Court, Wei One Corner."

His students and former subordinates filled half the court.

Wei Zheng's corner, though only a corner, was indispensable in holding up his half of the court.

He had thought they would grow old together, retire together, and enjoy their grandchildren together.

But Wei Zheng had died far too suddenly.

By the time he took leave to attend the funeral and reached the Wei Residence, the mourning hall had already been arranged.

Wei Zheng's spirit tablet stood upon the incense table, amid wavering candlelight and curling incense smoke.

Over the past ten years, he had also quietly looked after the Wei Family on many occasions.

Wei Mingde's entry into the Ministry of Works, his sinecure, even the specially bestowed "Equivalent Jinshi Degree"-Feng Yan had had a hand in all of them.

He had not wanted Wei Zheng's son to fare too poorly. After all, he was an old friend's son.

But he had never expected Wei Mingde to be so mediocre.

Living off his father's lingering protection, he had remained a bureau secretary in the Ministry of Works for over a decade, without the slightest ambition to advance.

Gradually, disappointment had set in, and he had stopped concerning himself with the man.

Thus, although he had received Wei Mingde's calling card, he had not wanted to reply.

What good would a meeting do? It would only be another plea for office.

"But this child..." Feng Yan lowered his head and glanced at the calling card again. "Should I see him or not?"

Just as Feng Yan hesitated, a clear, bright cry suddenly broke the pavilion's silence.

"Grandpa! Grandpa!"

An eight-year-old girl skipped into the pavilion, with two anxious older serving women following behind.

She wore a pink spring outfit, her hair tied into twin buns, and her rosy little face was round as a steamed bun.

She was Feng Yan's legitimate granddaughter, Feng Xiaoniang, whose childhood name was Fu Niang.

Feng Xiaoniang ran to Feng Yan, hugged his arm, and tilted her head up to ask,

"Grandpa, what are you reading? Fu Niang wants to see too!"

Looking at his adorable little granddaughter, Feng Yan immediately smiled and put away the calling card.

"Grandpa is reading a calling card."

Feng Xiaoniang pouted, her plump little face full of displeasure.

"Stop reading! Come play with Fu Niang! Grandpa hasn't played with Fu Niang for ages!"

She tugged Feng Yan's sleeve, swaying it coaxingly.

Helpless against her tugging, Feng Yan smiled and nodded.

"All right, all right. Grandpa will play with Fu Niang."

Feng Yan rose, took his granddaughter's hand, and walked out of the pavilion.

After a few steps, he looked back at the calling card on the table.

That's right! That child is Wenyue's grandson too...

The Wei and Feng families are old friends. What harm could there be in seeing an old friend's grandson?

I'm retired. Surely meeting a junior couldn't stir up any trouble?

At that thought, Feng Yan stopped and spoke to the steward beside him.

"Send a reply to the Wei Family. Tell that useless Wei Mingde to bring Wenyue's two grandsons to see me."

The steward bowed. "Yes, Master."

Feng Xiaoniang asked curiously, "Grandpa, who are you going to see?"

Feng Yan smiled, his gaze gentle. "An interesting child."

"Hehe, Fu Niang met an interesting, handsome young gentleman when she went out before too!"

Feng Xiaoniang's eyes sparkled as she gestured with her little hands. "He was so handsome! More handsome than all the older boys in our residence!"

"Oh? Whose family is he from?!" Feng Yan's expression changed on the spot, his brows bristling as alarm crossed his face, like a man whose tender little cabbage was about to be rooted up by a pig.

"Hmm..." Feng Xiaoniang pondered for a moment, then suddenly let go and ran out of the pavilion, turning back to pull a face.

"I'm not telling Grandpa! Nyah, nyah, nyah!"

Feng Yan stood where he was, watching his granddaughter's merry retreat, and shook his head helplessly.

This girl was growing more unruly by the day.

Outside the Feng Residence, Wei An sat on a small stool in a corner of the gatehouse, his heart burning with anxiety.

He did not know whether Lord Feng would grant an audience or whether this risky gambit would work. All he knew was that the Second Young Master was waiting for his news.

Time crept past, and the sun gradually sank westward.

At last, the steward emerged from the inner courtyard with a smile.

"The master said he would reply."

A reply meant success. Overjoyed, Wei An sprang to his feet and thanked him repeatedly.

He hurried out of the Feng Residence, almost jogging toward the Wei Residence.

Meanwhile, in the Wei Residence's Side Courtyard, Wei Nisheng was also waiting.

Waiting for news from Wei An, for an answer from the Feng Family, for an outcome still unknown.

Outside the window, the sky gradually darkened, and dusk closed in from all sides.

At last, footsteps sounded. The door opened, and Wei An entered, his face alight with joy.

"Second Young Master!!"

Wei Nisheng raised his head, his gaze calm, though his hand tightened slightly around his book.

"What did he say?"

"Lord Feng said he would reply!"