In Nanchang, Jiangxi, Wang Commander once again received an urgent letter delivered via express courier, arranged by Commander Mu through abuse of power, announcing that the wedding date was set for the 27th of the twelfth lunar month.
Wang Commander immediately wrote back, expressing concern over Wang Daxia's impulsive nature and entrusting Commander Mu with managing the household finances. He authorized him to withdraw funds as needed to ensure the wedding would be both lively and dignified.
After finishing the family letter, he composed a confidential report to his superior, Zhu Xizhong, Grand Commander of the Five Armies Commandery. He detailed how, since the Yan Family returned to their hometown, Yan Song had been extensively networking with local officials and frequently hosting literary gatherings to win over local scholars.
Yan Shifan, meanwhile, had been massively expanding his residence, forcibly relocating neighbors with minimal compensation. Two years on, the Yan family estate in Jiangxi now rivaled the lavishness of their former Beijing residence.
Wang Commander believed that the Yan Family had transferred most of their assets back to Jiangxi before the confiscation, suggesting that the property seized by the court likely amounted to only one-third of their actual wealth.
This estimate did not even include the five thousand taels of gold already confiscated in Xinghua City.
In short, the Yan Family was behaving restlessly in Jiangxi, constantly engaging in underhanded activities.
Midway through writing the confidential report, a subordinate informed him that Yan Shifan had come to see the Vice Commissioner.
Three years prior, Yan Shifan had manipulated the metropolitan evaluation with a mere flick of his finger, resulting in Wang Commander's dismissal. But fortunes change: Yan Shifan was now stripped of his official status and reduced to a commoner, while Wang Commander had risen to the third-rank position of Vice Commissioner.
Uncertain of Yan Shifan's motives this time, Wang Commander said, "Let him in and serve him good tea."
Despite being stripped of his property and rank and sent back to his hometown, Yan Shifan remained undeterred. However, the betrayal by his son-in-law, Duke Yansheng, who abandoned his wife and child, leading to his eldest daughter's suicide, had taken a heavy toll. Over the past three years, Yan Shifan had lost considerable weight, though his large frame merely shifted from enormous to hefty. His weak left eye had gone completely blind, now covered by a black eye patch, while his remaining eye had developed presbyopia, causing him to squint and retract his neck when looking at people or objects.
Wang Commander politely invited Yan Shifan to sit. Years in officialdom had taught him one rule: never show hostility before completely crushing your opponent.
During their three years in Jiangxi, Yan Shifan had sent gifts to Wang Commander on every major festival, and Wang Commander had reciprocated, pretending to have forgotten their past conflicts in the capital.
This time, Yan Shifan came bearing another gift. "I heard that your eldest son is getting married at year's end, and to the court physician Doctor Wei no less. A perfect match! This is my humble token of congratulations."
Wang Commander glanced at the gift list and declined, "This gift is too generous. I dare not accept it."
Yan Shifan pushed the list back. "It's just a small token. Why refuse? Are you looking down on me in my reduced circumstances and deliberately snubbing me?"
Wang Commander's superior, Zhu Xizhong, had given him clear orders: no matter what the Yan Family did, he was not to interfere. As long as they remained within Jiangxi, their movements were not to be restricted—the more active these doomed insects became, the better.
Having spent his earlier years as a low-ranking military officer patrolling the streets, Wang Commander had never even seen the emperor. He didn't fully understand Zhu Xizhong's strategy, but as a soldier, he followed orders. Thus, when the Yan Family forcibly demolished homes, Wang Commander remained silent, merely reporting the facts to Zhu Xizhong.
Now, faced with Yan Shifan's lavish gift, Wang Commander felt it was too extravagant but knew he had to accept it. After a few perfunctory refusals, he finally accepted the present.Yan Shifan presented his gifts and took his leave with a cupped-hand salute. Given Wang Commander's current position, there was no need for him to personally see the guest out.
Once Yan Shifan stepped beyond the gates of the Regional Military Commission, the smile vanished from his face, his single eye glinting coldly.
Wang Commander ordered his subordinates to unwrap and inspect all the gifts from Yan Shifan, but nothing unusual was found.
Nevertheless, out of caution, Wang Commander had no intention of keeping Yan Shifan's presents. He instructed his aides to distribute them as rewards during military drills, offering them as prizes to the winning teams to boost the morale and competitive spirit of these garrison soldiers who were more accustomed to farming.
An aide felt this was unfair to Wang Commander. "Sir, for three years these garrison troops have proven hopeless—all they care about is farming and making money. They've long lost any military mettle. When you train them, they complain behind your back, grumbling that you're interfering with their autumn harvest. Now you're even using your personal property as rewards. Why bother? No matter what you do, you never get any credit."
Wang Commander held firm to his principles. "Just because they're wrong doesn't mean we should follow suit. We must still do what's right. Over these three years, the Japanese Pirates in the southeast have been suppressed only to resurge, then suppressed again. Though their numbers dwindle each year, we cannot let our guard down. If the pirates ever raid here again and invade Jiangxi, at least this time we'll be prepared. We must never repeat the tragedy from three years ago when just seven pirates managed to capture an entire county town."
Hearing this, the aide understood Wang Commander's resolve and ceased his objections, carrying the gifts to the training ground to be used as prizes.
After finishing his letter, Wang Commander was approached by his young son who had just woken from his nap. Nearly six-year-old Wang Daqiu was being taught five characters daily by his father as part of his early education. Wang Commander picked up his brush and wrote the character for "sister-in-law." "You'll soon have an elder sister-in-law. When we return home at year's end, remember to be sweet-tongued—call her 'sister-in-law' as soon as you see her, and she'll give you lucky money."
"Who is sister-in-law?" Wang Daqiu asked.
Wang Commander hesitated slightly. "Well... it's Doctor Wei next door. You've seen her many times—you should remember her."
"I remember." Wang Daqiu pulled out the insect-and-snake-repelling scented sachet hanging from his neck. "Sister-in-law gave me this. She said I must never take it off, or insects and snakes would bite my nose."
Wei Caiwei had provided Wang Commander with the medicinal formula inside the sachet, instructing him to replace the contents at least monthly. The sachet proved remarkably effective in damp, snake-ridden Jiangxi. Once, a long snake had slithered into Wang Daqiu's bed but refrained from biting him.
Wang Commander consoled himself: though his eldest son's bride came from humble origins and was a widow, she possessed practical skills and a clear mind—she wasn't without merits. And however lacking she might be, she was still better than his former wife.
With his ex-wife as comparison, Wang Commander gradually found Wei Caiwei more agreeable, convincing himself through this reasoning.
Two months passed in this exchange of letters. By early winter in the tenth month, Beijing was shrouded in its customary sandstorms, the days perpetually twilight. Whenever venturing outside, people donned eye veils and face coverings for protection.
The Forbidden City too lay buried under the dust. Over these three years, the Jiajing Emperor had visibly aged and weakened. Staring at the gloomy, sunless sky, his mood grew increasingly somber. Even his attendant Shang Qinglan listlessly remarked, "When will a heavy snow fall to bury this blasted sand?"Normally, matters of weather should be directed to the Imperial Astronomical Bureau. However, since the Jiajing Emperor followed Daoist practices, whenever he faced indecision, he would consult the heavens. Under Shang Qinglan's subtle suggestion, the Emperor summoned the two most skilled spirit writers, Hu Dashun and Lan Tianyu, to perform a planchette ritual and ask the heavens when the sandstorm would cease.
Three years prior, these two had accepted bribes from Grand Secretariat Chief Xu Jie and manipulated the planchette to expel the Yan Family from the capital. Now, Shang Qinglan had bribed them again to reuse the same trick, using the planchette to reveal the news of the imperial grandson's birth in Prince Yu's residence.
It was pitiable—the young imperial grandson had been born over two months ago but still hadn't received the full-month hair-cutting ceremony, and his bloodline had not been formally acknowledged.
A layer of golden sand was spread over the winnowing basket. The Jiajing Emperor asked, "When will rain or snow fall from the heavens to disperse the sandstorm?"
Hu Dashun and Lan Tianyu stood on either side, holding rods to guide the suspended bamboo pen. Words appeared in the golden sand: "Heaven bestows a precious son, and sweet dew shall descend."
The Emperor asked again, "Where is this precious son?"
The planchette replied: "Yu."
The Jiajing Emperor had only two surviving sons—Prince Yu and Prince Jing—but he disliked both, particularly Prince Yu. "Prince Yu? He has always been here."
The planchette continued writing: "Prince Yu's son, the auspicious child born during the Flower and Moon Festival."
The Emperor asked the courtiers, "Does Prince Yu have a son?"
News of the newborn in Prince Yu's residence had already spread far and wide, but no one dared inform the Jiajing Emperor. Upon hearing this, everyone knelt, trembling, too afraid to speak up, unwilling to be the first to break the silence.
It was the "frank and outspoken" Shang Qinglan who said, "I heard that on August 17th, two days after the Mid-Autumn Festival, Prince Yu welcomed a son. The 'Flower and Moon Festival' on the planchette likely refers to the Mid-Autumn Festival."
Though the Jiajing Emperor now had an heir, his face showed no joy. He said, "If he was born over two months ago, why does the sandstorm persist?"
Shang Qinglan replied, "Perhaps it is because the hair-cutting and full-month celebration have been delayed?"
For imperial children, without confirmed bloodline status, being born was as good as not being born—the Imperial Clan Court would not allocate resources for their upbringing.
The Jiajing Emperor was most wary of this matter. However, since it was a directive from the heavens, he could not defy divine will. He instructed Shang Qinglan, "Arrange the hair-cutting ceremony promptly and see it through."
Shang Qinglan accepted the order. She deduced that the Emperor did not wish to make a grand spectacle or publicly announce the event, preferring a perfunctory procedure to comply with heavenly decree.
Since that was the case, I might as well do them a favor.
Shang Qinglan seized the opportunity, using the excuse of organizing the hair-cutting ceremony for Prince Yu's grandson to appoint the palace female physician Wei Caiwei to the seventh-rank position of Dianyao (Court Medic). She tasked Wei Caiwei, now a palace official, with performing the hair-cutting ritual for the young imperial grandson at Prince Yu's residence.
Wei Caiwei was sitting at home when an official appointment fell from the sky. She hurried to the palace to express gratitude. Though the rank was not high, she was no longer a commoner but an official.
Shang Qinglan offered her a seat. "This is my wedding gift to you. Now that you hold an official position, no one will point fingers about you and Wang Daxia being mismatched or say you're climbing above your station by marrying into the Wang family.Wei Caiwei received her official robe, hat, boots, and seasonal rank badges to be changed on the chest. For winter, it was the Yangsheng badge. She sewed the badge onto her python robe, put on the official hat, and showed it to Wang Daxia. "Is it sewn straight? I have to wear this official robe tomorrow to perform the hair-cutting for the young imperial grandson."The first time Wang Daxia saw her in official robes and cap, her expression solemn and dignified, she appeared unapproachable—proud and ascetic.
The more she presented herself this way, the more he wanted to tear off this disguise and force her true nature to surface. Outside, wind and sand filled the sky, but within the bed curtains, thunder and rain intertwined, brimming with the vitality of spring.
...Half an hour later, Wei Caiwei had already shed her passion, feeling dull and indifferent, while Wang Daxia was still toiling under the midday sun, sweat dripping onto the soil below.
Though it's said that only the ox dies from exhaustion, not the field from being plowed, even the earth grows weary under clumsy cultivation.
Old yellow oxen believe diligence can compensate for lack of skill, but reality proves otherwise. According to the law of diminishing marginal returns, excess is as bad as deficiency—clumsiness remains clumsiness, whether brief or prolonged.
Wei Caiwei realized that perfection has always been elusive. In her past life, Eunuch Wang lacked "chopsticks," but he was clever and skillful. In this life, Wang Daxia had "chopsticks," but he only knew how to brute-force his way through, devoid of any finesse.
This wasn't a martial contest where sheer strength could overpower ten techniques.
Wei Caiwei wanted to end it, but Wang Daxia showed no sign of being satisfied. Forcibly cutting off his "food supply" seemed unwise—what if he could never "eat" again? The loss would be too great.
Fortunately, Wei Caiwei was reborn, and her skills remained intact, not a single one forgotten. In her past life, Eunuch Wang lacked "chopsticks," so she had studied multiple medical texts and even observed illustrations of male couples in the common quarters, mastering methods for a man to be satisfied without "chopsticks."
She picked up the sheep intestine soaked in warm milk by the bedside, slipped it over her finger, embraced Wang Daxia, and traced her hand down his spine.
Wang Daxia didn't know what she intended, only feeling a tingling itch as her finger reached his tailbone, accompanied by an unusual sensation.
But Wei Caiwei's finger continued downward without pause.
Wang Daxia sensed danger. "What are you doing?"
"Trust me," Wei Caiwei said, using her past-life skills to find the right angle and pressing firmly without hesitation.
Wang Daxia let out a cat-like whimper, just as Eunuch Wang had in the previous life. The tyrant's flag atop Wang Xiaoxia's fortress was cut down, signaling surrender.
Author's Note: Banxia: Such things have never been perfect since ancient times, alas.
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