Chapter Ten: The Code of the Aristocracy

Page 1/3

Mount Beimang, also known as Pingfeng Mountain, Taiping Mountain, or Jia Mountain, is not particularly high, with an elevation of about 300 meters, but it stretches widely east to west for several hundred li, presenting a majestic and imposing presence. It boasts deep waters and rich soil, dense forests, and lies north of Luoyang city, on the southern bank of the Yellow River. It is a remnant ridge of the Qinling Mountains, branching from the Xiaoshan range.

Mount Beimang is blessed with mountains and waters; the Yi and Luo Rivers flow from west to east, cutting through Luoyang, making this region a primary hub for the descendants of the Yan and Huang Emperors since ancient times. From prehistoric eras, the Yan and Huang clans settled here, thriving and developing continuously.

At the foot of Mount Beimang, the Cui family built an estate that clings to the mountain slopes.

During the Han dynasty, aristocratic families favored constructing estates, often treating them as vital strongholds for family heritage. The Cui family was no exception. Construction began during the tenure of Cui Lie, who served as Minister over the Masses in the previous dynasty. Now, Cui Yi and Cui Hou continue to expand and renovate it, resulting in a vast complex.

Fei Qian estimated the estate’s area to be at least the size of twenty basketball courts, and craftsmen were seen coming and going behind the manor. In ancient times, one could develop as large a piece of land as desired; by today’s standards, such a plot would easily be worth tens of billions, making it nearly impossible to acquire.

Cui Hou, with a proud expression, enthusiastically explained the entire layout to Fei Qian.

Though called an estate, it resembled more of a fortress.

The Cui Manor, or rather Cui Village, is built against a cliff on the northern side of the Mang Mountain. Many cave dwellings were carved into the cliff face, secured with wooden fences and guarded by sentries, likely used for storing supplies. At the foot of the mountain, thick defensive walls enclose a vast area, with mountain streams flowing through the estate. Outside the walls, a deep moat was dug, serving both as a defense against enemies and a water reservoir.

The entire village was divided into more than ten zones: the main residential area, common housing, ancestral hall, workshops, vegetable gardens, flower gardens, warehouses, markets, and more, each with its dedicated function and well-planned layout.

Beyond the suspension bridge stood a narrow gatehouse; the estate’s main entrance rivaled city gates in solidity and strength, flanked on both sides by thick walls. Inside, an observation tower modeled after city wall watchtowers stood, with several guards armed with bows and arrows patrolling atop.

The village streets, designed to thwart invaders, twisted and turned in many directions with numerous forks. Without Cui Hou’s guidance, an unfamiliar outsider would struggle to locate the main household’s courtyard.

Fei Qian clicked his tongue in admiration, generously offering praise.

Cui Hou modestly waved off the compliments while eagerly recounting how the estate was initially constructed, the manpower invested, and so forth.

Indeed, the construction was impressive. The walls on both sides of the streets were half stone and half yellow earth, balancing convenience and sturdiness. Beyond the mountain stream flowing through the village, there were also numerous large water jars to prevent fires—a constant threat given that Han-era houses predominantly featured wooden beams and doors.

The Cui family’s main living quarters were almost a blend of garden and military fortress architecture. The outer walls were built entirely of blue bricks, clearly elevating their status compared to the commoners’ houses lining the streets. Brick, stone, and wood carvings adorned the walls, showcasing exquisite craftsmanship in varied styles. Each courtyard corner housed a three-story watchtower, with slanted eaves elegantly curved upwards.

Constructing such an estate was no small feat, revealing the Cui family’s considerable wealth.

The agrarian structure of the Han dynasty closely resembled the Cui estate. The manor usually served as a trade and exchange hub, where the landed gentry resided. Farmers and laborers generally lived outside the manor in thatched huts but would gather within the estate to defend behind the walls in case of invasion.

The small-scale model of Cui Village was essentially a microcosm of the Han dynasty, even reflecting the broader era of Chinese feudal agrarian society. Except for a few dynasties—such as the Han, Tang, and Ming—that maintained sufficient military strength to defend the borders, most of the time defense was passive, allowing nomadic tribes to ravage the lands beyond the walls like locusts.

Upon entering the Cui estate, Cui Hou did not take Fei Qian to a side hall but to his own small courtyard’s modest chamber, seating host and guest accordingly.

Page 2/3

A faint smile played at the corner of Fei Qian’s lips. Trading rare books for the host family’s protection had borne fruit.

The Han dynasty was a time that emphasized propriety and reciprocity.

Certain places corresponded to specific ranks and statuses. Fei Qian’s standing did not yet merit access to the main hall; even if Cui Hou were to take him there, Fei Qian would not dare to breach etiquette.

Fei Qian had originally worried that Cui Hou would bring him to a side hall, signaling a formal family banquet attended by Cui Yi, which would force Fei Qian to face the elder directly. Under such circumstances, if questioned, he would have to stand to answer, which was not only awkward but also placed him in a highly disadvantageous position—troublesome, indeed.

Now that Cui Hou greeted him in a small chamber within his private courtyard, it meant Cui Hou was acting as host, and Cui Yi would not appear. The event was thus downgraded to a casual gathering among friends, not a formal ritual banquet.

Initially, the Cui family had intended for Cui Yi to preside. As an elder and former official of the previous dynasty, Cui Yi would have used polite persuasion before force to coax Fei Qian into handing over the secret formula for crafting glazed glass. However, an unexpected letter from Fei Min changed matters.

The Cui family had assumed Fei Qian was merely a minor branch of the Fei clan, receiving little attention from the main family. They believed such a powerless, fringe branch could not cause much trouble.

Yet Fei Min’s letter, besides pleasantries, politely thanked the Cui family for their invitation and hospitality and hinted at inviting the Cui family to visit. Though the message was subtle, it revealed that Fei Qian was not the inconsequential figure the Cui family had dismissed. Pressing him further would be tantamount to offending Fei Min, turning a personal matter into an affair between two prominent families.

Though the position of Grand Counselor was not higher than the Three Excellencies, Fei Min was a current official, whereas Cui Lie, the highest-ranking Cui, was a deceased official of the former dynasty, offering no significant advantage in status.

Weighing pros and cons, Cui Yi chose not to appear and delegated Cui Hou to entertain Fei Qian as a mere friend.

In such a small chamber, the atmosphere need not be as solemn as a formal banquet. After sitting, Cui Hou promptly removed his ceremonial headpiece and placed it aside, signaling Fei Qian to do likewise.

Intrigued and pleased, Fei Qian smiled and followed suit, secretly thinking how amusing the ancients were. This simple act of removing one’s headwear was a subtle way of saying, “Tonight, let us eat and drink casually, without any other intentions.”

Sure enough, as dried fruits, pastries, wine, fruit juices, and various meats were served, Cui Hou refrained from discussing business and instead recounted tales of romantic nights and street anecdotes to entertain.

The Cui family was no simple clan. Though glazed glass was highly profitable, the family was not blinded by greed. They knew when to let go, as they did now, showing no awkwardness or negativity. To the uninformed, their warmth seemed genuinely sincere and friendly.

The feast lasted from afternoon until dusk, with everyone well-fed and merry.

Though Han-era wine resembled later fermented rice wine—slightly sweet and sour with low alcohol content—one could still become intoxicated. Fortunately, whether due to Fei Qian’s natural tolerance or skills honed from traveling through time to a future era, despite flushed cheeks, a thick tongue, and unsteady gait, much of his drunkenness was feigned.

As the banquet wound down, Cui Hou summoned a maid to escort Fei Qian to a guest room to rest.

In the Han dynasty, respectable banquets typically spanned from midday to sunset, after which guests would stay overnight at the host’s residence, marking the event’s proper conclusion.

Page 3/3

A good meal and restful sleep signified true hospitality. Guests rarely traveled overnight, as leaving early or traveling at night was considered disrespectful to the host.

Fei Qian staggered under the maid’s support toward the guest room but soon wobbled back, pulling a handkerchief from his bosom and handing it to Cui Hou with a thick tongue: “Brother treats little brother… not, not, not lightly. Little brother… soon will… leave Luoyang. This token… was… accidentally obtained… specially given to brother as a parting gift…”

Before he could finish, Fei Qian collapsed onto the floor, fast asleep.

Cui Hou fought his own intoxication and opened the handkerchief. Almost immediately, the wine’s effect faded by eighty or ninety percent. Astonished, he called Fei Qian several times but could not rouse him. He repeatedly stressed the need to take good care of Fei Qian before hastily going to see Cui Yi without even changing his stained clothes.

Cui Yi, accustomed to quiet reflection at dusk, was disturbed by Cui Hou’s arrival. Seeing the alcohol scent and disheveled state, he was furious and prepared to reprimand his son.

“Father, please hold your hand! I beg you to examine this first!” Cui Hou interrupted.

Cui Yi took the handkerchief and scanned it briefly. His drowsiness vanished, and he frowned. “Where did you obtain this? You didn’t steal it from a drunken Fei Qian, did you?”

Cui Hou quickly recounted the earlier events.

“This youth is no ordinary person,” Cui Yi stroked his beard thoughtfully. “If this method is genuine, tsk tsk, it reveals our Cui family’s shortcomings… Very well, we shall accept this favor!”

“Copy it immediately, then summon the master craftsmen at home to attempt a trial batch and observe its effects,” he ordered decisively, setting work in motion through the night without rest.

Leaving aside the busy Cui Yi and Cui Hou, Fei Qian was escorted by two maids to rest. Staggering along with a faint smile, he mused that the same item could yield very different results depending on when and how it was presented.

If he had been forced to reveal it unwillingly, he would receive no reward and only ridicule. The harsh, ruthless nature of aristocratic families left no room for sentiment.

Now, under the care of his main household patron Fei Min, Fei Qian temporarily enjoyed a status equal to Cui Hou’s. Regardless of how long this position would last, presenting the formula now constituted a gift of friendship, obliging the Cui family to reciprocate according to aristocratic etiquette, or else lose face among their peers.

The aristocratic clans were thus a paradoxical yet unified group.

Since he planned to leave Luoyang, it was only fitting to part on clean terms. Moreover, the formula he gave Cui Hou was only slightly better than the standard Han glazed glass recipe, mainly by using purer lead, resulting in brighter, more lustrous glass.

Fei Qian even thought that if the Cui family continued to refine the formula, discovering even better proportions would be their own merit.

Slightly tipsy, Fei Qian was supported by the maids, stumbling toward the guest room. Suddenly, a streak of red light appeared on the horizon. Blinking uncomfortably, he half-closed his eyes and looked out.

At that moment, the setting sun bled like fire, casting the entire city of Luoyang in a blood-red glow.