Chapter Thirty-Eight: Father and Son (Part One) – Second Update

The moonlight bathed the earth in a silvery glow. In Luoyang City, the wards and neighborhoods were tightly shut, the curfew strictly enforced.

There was good reason for this curfew. Earlier in the third lunar month, Emperor Wen of Sui had gone to visit Renshou Palace but had fallen gravely ill and never recovered. With the emperor ailing, his son, Crown Prince Yang Guang, immediately issued an edict to the entire realm: after the hour of rest, all cities were to observe a curfew.

The hour of rest refers to the Hai hour, that is, between nine and eleven at night. Ordinarily, this would be the time for merrymaking and leisure. But now that the emperor’s health was failing, how could anyone still have the heart for revelry? Yang Guang’s decree was also a public demonstration of his filial piety. Thus, the city gates of Luoyang were tightly closed, and the streets became deserted.

Li Ji rode his skinny horse to the Dou family’s ancestral village.

At the side gate of the old residence, he dismounted and knocked gently. In a short while, the side door opened and an old servant stepped out.

“Master Li, the clan elder is waiting for you in the rear garden pavilion.”

“Thank you,” Li Ji replied, handing over the reins without ceremony. He made his way straight to the rear garden, treading familiar paths.

The winding, secluded trails of the Dou family estate were as familiar to him as the lines on his own palm. No escort was needed, and none tried to stop him along the way.

In the pavilion, Dou Wei was engaged in a game of Go with a middle-aged man.

The man appeared to be about forty, dressed in a long robe of brocade, a short jacket draped over his shoulders. His brow was furrowed in deep concentration.

On the board, two great dragons—lines of black and white stones—clashed fiercely, locked in a life-and-death struggle.

Li Ji approached without a word, quietly taking a seat to observe the game.

Dou Wei’s skill was a touch superior. Gradually, he gained the advantage. The middle-aged man, finding himself outmatched, played another twenty moves or so, then conceded defeat, laying down his pieces.

“Uncle, your skill in Go grows ever more formidable.”

Dou Wei chuckled. “Mofule, you’ve improved as well after your years in Chang’an.”

Mofule was an alternate name for Mahoraga, one of the Eight Legions of Buddhist deities. The noble clans of Guanlong liked to bestow their children with the names of deities for their protection.

The middle-aged man smiled, then nodded to Li Ji. “Jiu Lang, you’re here!”

Li Ji returned the smile but said nothing.

Dou Wei spoke. “The young master of the Zheng family returned today.”

“I’ve heard,” Li Ji replied.

“Do you know what I’ve been busy with lately?”

Li Ji was taken aback and shook his head.

“I made a trip to Chang’an and asked Mofule to help look into the Zheng family’s son.”

Mofule’s real name was Dou Xian, eldest son of Dou Yi. He had two elder sisters, the second of whom had married Li Yuan, Duke of Tang. Dou Xian now held the rank of Captain of Tiger Guards, inheriting the title of Duke Shenwu from his father.

He carefully put the Go stones away, then said, “Jiu Lang, don’t blame your uncle. He asked me to send men to Xingyang to investigate the young master Zheng.”

“But why?” Li Ji looked at Dou Wei in confusion. “Why investigate Yanqing?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know what Mofule discovered?”

Li Ji hesitated, then glanced at Dou Xian, questioning him with his eyes.

Dou Xian, having put away the pieces, dusted his hands and sat up straight. “As far as I know, Yanqing’s grandfather, Zheng Shian, had no sons.”

“And what of it?”

“In his early years, Zheng Shian was wounded in battle, leaving him unable to father children. Since he had no sons, where did Yanqing come from?”

“You mean…” Li Ji’s body trembled slightly. The perpetual smile on his face faded to one of tension. He clenched his fists, arms braced on his knees, wanting to ask but afraid, a strange hope rising in his heart.

Dou Wei said, “Mofule found out that Zheng Yanqing is an adopted son. It’s said that in the year when Lord Zheng retired, he adopted a child on his way home—near Sisui Pass, I believe?”

Dou Xian nodded to confirm.

“Jiu Lang, you may not know that Lord Zheng’s retirement was in the eighteenth year of the Kaihuang era.”

“Ah!” Li Ji could restrain himself no longer, letting out a cry.

“And it was in mid-autumn.”

Dou Wei, seemingly unconcerned, lifted a cup of wine from the Western Regions, his voice deep. “I remember your wife met her end that same year. At the time, you were in Longzhou because your sister-in-law was pregnant, so you weren’t home. Mofule checked the records at Sisui Pass and found that Zheng Shian adopted Yanqing the day after the Zhoushan tragedy.”

The Zhoushan tragedy was the name Dou Wei and his peers gave to the murder of Li Ji’s wife.

Li Ji’s body shook violently.

“Zhoushan is still some distance from Sisui Pass.”

“That’s true, but not so far—only half a day’s journey. Mofule sent men to check the records; no missing infant was reported that year. The commander at the pass was a member of the Zheng clan. In the first year of Renshou, he was exiled to Lingnan for being implicated with the Hidden Prince, and likely died there... That day, you told me your child was also named Yanqing, and I found it odd. How could a servant’s child bear such a refined name?

“If he were Lord Zheng’s grandson, I’d believe it. But the grandson of Zheng Shian? That I find hard to accept…”

Li Ji’s face twitched. He rose abruptly and turned to leave.

“Jiu Lang, where are you going?”

“I must ask Zheng Shian whether that boy is truly my Yanqing.”

“You’re mad!” Dou Wei’s smile vanished, replaced by sternness. “How will you ask? And if Zheng Shian questions you, what will you say?

“Don’t forget who you are now. Even if Yanqing is your son, would you have him follow you into danger, wandering from place to place? Jiu Lang, I understand your feelings—otherwise, I wouldn’t have asked Mofule to investigate. But you must not speak of this, or not just you, but the child as well, will suffer.”

Li Ji knew Dou Wei was not simply scaremongering.

He was a man who could not show his face. If Yanqing truly was his child, could he keep him close?

“I know, but I…”

Li Ji’s voice trembled, unable to go on. Suddenly, he squatted on the pavilion steps and wept aloud.

Joy, sorrow, and more than anything, helplessness…

He could not confirm for sure that Yanqing was his son, but in his heart, he already knew. Those eyes, that face, that smile—they were his mother’s image reborn.

When he first heard the name Yanqing, and saw the boy, he nearly believed at once that this was his child. He never expected his intuition to become reality. The resemblance to his mother, the name, the timing of his adoption—all matched, save the place.

How could fate hold such a coincidence?

For six years, Li Ji had lived in remorse. If only he had not gone to Longzhou but stayed in the village at Zhoushan, perhaps he and his son would not have been parted for six years—now, face to face, yet unable to acknowledge each other.

Dou Wei and Dou Xian both understood Li Ji’s pain.

For a grown man to weep so bitterly—what depths of feeling must lie within?

“Jiu Lang, don’t be like this.” Dou Xian stepped forward, embracing Li Ji and murmuring, “If the young master is truly your son, you should rejoice. See how gifted he is at his age—surely your wife in heaven is watching over him. You can’t acknowledge him, but you see him every day. Is that not a kind of happiness?”

“I… I… I…” Li Ji’s sobs choked off his words.

Dou Wei added, “Jiu Lang, don’t worry. I’ll find a way to confirm the truth. If he is your son, I promise you—he will not be bullied. But you must be prepared…”

“Prepared for what?”

“I heard, upon returning from Chang’an, that His Majesty may not last. Zhang Qiu Taiyi once said that Renshou Palace should not be visited, or one would not return. For this, His Majesty imprisoned him, planning to deal with him later. But now, after the Crown Prince returned from Renshou Palace, he secretly released Zhang Qiu Taiyi and spoke with him at length.

“I don’t know the details, but judging from the prince’s actions, I believe he means to restore and perhaps move the capital to Luoyang.”

“What?” Li Ji was aghast.

Dou Xian said, “I’ve heard some rumors myself. I returned by imperial command to make preparations. Zhang Qiu Taiyi and Minister of Works Du Guo will soon arrive in Luoyang to survey the land’s fortune. If so, the move is certain.”

Zhang Qiu Taiyi was one of the two most famed mystics of the age, rivaled only by Yuan Shoucheng.

Yuan Shoucheng was devoted to Daoist cultivation and cared little for worldly affairs, but Zhang Qiu Taiyi was different—he served the imperial family.

As a mystic, naturally he had his air of mystery. So far, none of his predictions had failed to come true. This only added to his legendary aura. This time, his warning to Emperor Wen became a self-fulfilling prophecy, making Dou Wei and the others believe all the more. Though the wise shun tales of spirits, such matters are best believed, just in case.

If Yang Guang truly intended to move the capital, all the officials and noble factions would shift their focus. If Li Ji remained in Luoyang, his identity might well be exposed.

Dou Wei’s warning was for him to prepare for departure. But now that he had just found a clue to his son, how could he bear to leave?

“Jiu Lang, don’t fret. I’m only telling you to be ready; whether you go or stay is another matter.”

Li Ji took a deep breath, striving to compose himself.

“I’ll leave everything to you, Uncle.”

“Good. It’s late—don’t return tonight. I’ll have the servants arrange a room for you here.”

“Uncle, my mind is in turmoil. I’ll retire now.”

“All right.” Dou Wei nodded, signaling the servant to escort Li Ji away.

Watching his slightly hunched figure recede, both Dou Wei and Dou Xian could not help but sigh softly.

There is nothing sadder in this world than a father and son unable to recognize each other—even forced apart because of it.

“Mofule, keep an eye out. Help Jiu Lang learn more. I feel it’s almost certain—the young master is likely his child. Spare no effort.”

Dou Xian nodded. “Uncle, I’ll see to it.”

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