The Second Lord Competes for a Son-in-law

Yuan Shu listened as Xu Zijang gave Luan Yi the lofty praise, “In writing, he can bring peace to the realm; in war, he can settle the world,” and he curled his lip in disdain. He said to Xu Shao, “Luan Yi is only thirteen years old. Aren’t you exaggerating your evaluation, sir? Besides, to say he can govern with his pen is barely plausible, but as for settling the world with his martial prowess—on what grounds?”

Seeing Yuan Shu question his judgment, Xu Shao glared at him with anger and replied, “I never make unfounded assessments.”

At this, Cai Yong rose from his seat, bowed slightly to the assembly, and began retelling with embellishments how Luan Yi had once lifted a massive boulder to kill a black bear and, outside Hulao Pass, had slain a notorious bandit chief. The audience listened in utter astonishment.

“Does Ziqi truly possess such strength?” He Jin exclaimed in disbelief.

Luan Yi smiled, tacitly acknowledging the truth. He scanned the hall and soon spotted a bronze cauldron in the corner. Approaching it, he tested its weight with his hand—estimating it to be over a hundred pounds. He then set his feet apart, gripped the handles firmly, bent his waist, summoned his strength, and with a shout of effort, lifted the heavy cauldron high above his head.

With a thud, he set the cauldron back in its place.

The hall was even more astounded than when Luan Yi had earlier played “When Will the Bright Moon Appear.” For a thirteen-year-old boy to lift such weight was unheard of!

“Ziqi truly has divine strength! Remarkable!” Yuan Kui praised repeatedly, and the others echoed his admiration.

Having won high praise from both Xu Zijang, Yuan Kui, and He Jin, Luan Yi and his brothers became the focus of the banquet. Guests came to toast and converse with them one after another, so many that Luan Yi and his companions were overwhelmed, drinking until they were dizzy and lightheaded. For a time, the Eight Officials of Yingchuan basked in unrivaled glory.

Just then, as Luan Yi was speaking with a drunken guest whose name he hadn’t caught, he saw Wang Yun stand up and address Yuan Kui in the center of the hall, “Master Yuan! There is a matter that has long troubled me, and I seek your guidance.”

“Ah…” Yuan Kui was in high spirits from the wine and waved his hand at the word “decision,” saying, “Today is my birthday, let us speak only of art and pleasure, not of state affairs.”

Wang Yun replied, “It is not a matter of state, but of family.”

“A family matter? Well, if it concerns you, ask away! I’ll offer my counsel.”

“Very well!” Wang Yun gave Luan Yi a meaningful glance that made his palms sweat and sobered him somewhat. Wang Yun continued, “I have no daughter, and so I have raised Diao Chan as my own. But this foster daughter is truly difficult to guide! Ever since ‘Strange Tales from a Studio’ was published three years ago, Diao Chan has been obsessed with these tales of spirits and ghosts, reading them daily and frequenting teahouses to hear storytellers. She has become utterly bewitched. From reading, she grew enamored of the author, expressing a desire to travel to Yingchuan to meet Luan Ziqi. Fearing for her safety, I forbade it. Yet she secretly sang at Meiyuan to earn the funds for her journey. At the Weihe Poetry Gathering, Ziqi’s brilliance dazzled all, and upon hearing he was coming to the capital, Diao Chan was elated. By chance, they met briefly, and she fell hopelessly in love, vowing to marry no one but Luan Ziqi, or else she would hang herself with a white silk scarf. Master Yuan, this is the situation—I beg you to arbitrate!”

“So that is the matter!” Yuan Kui looked from the blushing Diao Chan to the equally flushed Luan Yi, immediately understanding. “There is no difficulty here. Diao Chan is deeply devoted, and judging by Ziqi’s actions, he seems to return her affection. Why not grant them their wish and betroth Diao Chan to Ziqi?”

“That is also my wish,” Wang Yun replied, beaming. Originally, he had intended to marry Diao Chan into an allied noble family to strengthen their ties, but she had set her heart on Luan Yi. Though the Luan family was wealthy, they were still merchants—hardly a match for his own. Thus, at first, Wang Yun was not in favor. But after witnessing Luan Yi in person at Yuan Kui’s birthday, and overhearing Xu Zijang’s high praise, his opinion changed entirely. He thought, “The Luan family’s status may be low, but the boy himself is extraordinary, and he is only thirteen! His friends are all outstanding as well. With their support, he is sure to rise to great heights!”

As Wang Yun was dreaming of such a son-in-law, Cai Yong suddenly leaped up from behind the table, nearly falling over had Xu Shao not caught him. Flushed with drink and agitation, he cried out, “No! Ziqi must not marry Diao Chan! Absolutely not!”

“Hm?” Zhang Rang, who had just watched Wang Yun suffer a setback, was already displeased. Seeing Cai Yong now ruin his plans, his anger flared again. He snarled, “What is the meaning of this, Libationer Cai? Do you mean to sabotage this match?”

“Not at all,” Cai Yong replied. “My objection is for a reason.”

Yuan Kui stroked his beard and asked, “What reason? Pray, tell us.”

Cai Yong continued, “Ziqi and my daughter, Cai Zhaoji, are as close as siblings, their hearts in accord. They have already made a private betrothal, though the formal proposal has not been made. Thus, with his engagement to my daughter, how can Ziqi marry the daughter of Lord Wang as well?”

“Oh? Is this true?” Yuan Kui asked Luan Yi, who nodded in acknowledgment.

Yuan Kui laughed heartily, “Ziqi, you’ve been in Luoyang less than two months, and yet have won the hearts of two of the capital’s most illustrious maidens! Truly, the old saying holds: ‘Since ancient times, talented men are always romantic!’”

Luan Yi was so embarrassed he wished he could sink into the floor, not knowing how to respond.

He Jin suddenly interjected, “Since both Lord Cai’s daughter and Lord Wang’s foster daughter are in love with Ziqi, why not marry them both to him? It would be as poetic as the tale of Ehuang and Nuying!”

“Hm?” Wang Yun was taken aback. “Pardon me, Grand General, but hear me out! Ziqi is a scholar with neither rank nor title. How could he marry two wives? At best, one would be wife, the other concubine—so who would be the wife, and who the concubine? I ask the Grand General and Minister Yuan to decide!”

“That is easily settled,” Cai Yong replied at once. “First, matters go by order of precedence—my Zhaoji knew Ziqi first. Second, Zhaoji is my only daughter by blood, while Diao Chan is your foster child—there is a difference in status. Third, as the proverb says, ‘A teacher for a day is a father for life.’ As Ziqi’s teacher, I have a say in his marriage. If he is filial, he will let me decide. Therefore, the position of principal wife must go to Zhaoji!”

Cai Yong rattled off three reasons. The first two were well-founded, but the third relied on his authority as Luan Yi’s teacher and bordered on bullying. Nonetheless, his argument was both reasonable and in line with custom, so Wang Yun could find no fault, though he was so furious he was almost speechless.

“As I said, though Diao Chan is my foster daughter, I treat her as my own. I will never let her marry as a concubine. In that case, this marriage cannot proceed!”

“Father, please!” Diao Chan cried, falling to her knees before Wang Yun, tears streaming down her face. “I have said already: I will marry no one but Master Ziqi. Even if I must be a concubine, I am willing—please, father, grant me this wish!”

“Nonsense!” Wang Yun thundered, “What woman ever forced a man to marry her? Stop disgracing us and go home at once!”

Diao Chan, from who knows where, produced a dagger and pressed it to her throat. “If father refuses, I will end my life here and now!”

The guests were thrown into chaos. People rushed over to persuade her, “Miss Diao Chan, don’t do anything rash!”

Luan Yi, sweating profusely, squeezed through the crowd. “Hongchang, everything can be discussed. Let’s not make light of your life!”

But as the crowd drew closer, Diao Chan pressed the blade harder against her white skin, drawing blood. “No one come closer! Father, will you agree or not?”

Wang Yun stamped his feet in panic. “Fine! Fine! I agree! Now put the knife down—please!”

“Truly?”

“Truly! I give you my word as a gentleman—I will not go back on it!”

With a clang, the dagger fell to the floor. Overcome by shock, fear, and joy, Diao Chan collapsed. Luan Yi rushed forward and caught her in his arms before she hit the ground, sighing tearfully, “Why put yourself through such pain?”

Diao Chan, also in tears, replied, “As long as I can be with you, I will endure any suffering!”

The atmosphere was awkward. Yuan Shao stepped in to smooth things over. “Today is my uncle’s birthday—first, we had Mr. Xu’s monthly appraisal; then the happy resolution of Ziqi’s romance. Three joys in one day! How can we not celebrate?”

“Indeed! Let’s all raise a cup!” Cao Cao chimed in, and the crowd cheered, toasting together.

The banquet continued late into the night. As the center of attention, Luan Yi drank the most—so much that he vomited several times before finally being carried back to the Cai residence by Guo Jia and the others.

That night, as he slept, he had a strange dream. He saw himself and Diao Chan, inseparable in their home outside Yangzhai County, Yingchuan. Then Cai Yan arrived and, seeing Luan Yi holding another woman, grew furious and stormed off. Luan Yi chased after her, but somehow she had magical powers: with each step she covered ten meters, and he could never catch up. In desperation, he seized a fine horse by the roadside and galloped after her. Just as he was about to catch up, a troop of riders burst from the forest. Their leader’s face was indistinct, but he wore a three-pronged golden crown, a red brocade robe from Western Sichuan bedecked with flowers, a beast-faced chain mail, and wielded a halberd with a crescent blade. He roared, “Luan Ziqi! Do you dare steal a woman from me, Lü Fengxian? It seems you’re tired of living!”

With that, he spurred his horse and charged, halberd raised. Luan Yi, unarmed, could only watch as the blade swept toward his neck. His head flew from his shoulders, soaring higher and higher until it vanished among the clouds. The world below grew smaller and smaller, until it disappeared entirely.

As his head reached the peak and began to fall, the grand mansions of old vanished, replaced by towering skyscrapers. Airplanes soared past him, trains sped along the ground…