Chapter Forty-Two: The Twin Jewels of Taiyi Shake the He Family

“We’ve arrived, let’s go.” As the carriage came to a complete stop, He Mengqing was the first to rise, speaking lightly, then stepping down ahead of the others. Seeing this, Qin Yi and his companions quickly followed after him.

The moment He Mengqing alighted, the steward, who had been waiting at the grand gates of the He family residence for some time, hurried forward. “Young Master, you’ve returned. The master and others are already waiting in the main hall.”

He Mengqing glanced at Qin Yi and the others. “Qin Yi, I’ll leave you for now.” Then, turning to the steward, he added, “Steward Ge, arrange two superior rooms for Qin Yi and his friends.” With that, he strode swiftly through the gate, clearly pressed by urgent affairs. As Qin Yi had surmised, it was likely about the shipment at the docks.

Upon hearing this, Steward Ge turned to a young maid, about twelve or thirteen years old, at his side. “Chuncao, arrange two superior rooms for Young Master Qin Yi and his guests.”

“Yes, sir!” the maid replied, then gestured with a smile toward Qin Yi. “This way, Young Master Qin Yi.”

Qin Yi followed her lead with long strides, while Jiang Yao and Zhang Chen kept close behind.

Before they left, Steward Ge exchanged a subtle glance with the maid Chuncao. Though only a young girl reared in the great clan, she understood the meaning well. She thought to herself, “Indeed, a married daughter is as good as water spilled.”

Chuncao led the trio through the halls and corridors of the He residence. Yet as they walked, the route grew longer, leading from opulent courtyards into ever more remote corners. Zhang Chen’s face turned increasingly sour. Burning with indignation for Qin Yi, he was about to rebuke the maid, but Qin Yi stopped him.

Qin Yi understood: the maid would never dare disobey orders without the steward’s signal. And the fact that Steward Ge dared openly disregard He Mengqing’s request could only mean one thing: in this household, He Mengqing, who did not practice cultivation, held power in name only. For this journey with the shipping fleet, he was likely little more than the He family’s public face.

In the great clans, after all, hierarchies were rigid and unyielding.

At length, Chuncao finally stopped before two rooms that, while hardly poor, could not be called “superior” by any stretch. She beamed at Qin Yi. “Here we are, Young Master.”

Qin Yi smiled as he ushered Jiang Yao inside. “Thank you for your trouble.”

Watching them enter, Chuncao thought, “Is Young Master Qin Yi really such a fool, to be so courteous with me? What a pity—such a beautiful lady, and she’s with him. I don’t know what their relationship is, but if I did, I’d probably find that Jiang Yao is just as hollow as she is fair.”

Lost in these musings, Chuncao was suddenly startled by Zhang Chen moving in close. She glared at him, “What do you mean by scaring me like that?”

Zhang Chen grinned. “A mere maid, yet so bold.”

“What business is it of yours?” Chuncao retorted, unbothered. She’d already noticed the unfriendly glint in his eyes, and now he was walking right into her line of fire; she had no qualms about stinging him with a few barbs.

Zhang Chen looked at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Little girl, do you know who that beautiful lady is?”

Chuncao had no intention of replying, but her curiosity about Jiang Yao got the better of her. “Who is she?”

Zhang Chen replied triumphantly, “Jiang Yao.”

“Ah!” Chuncao gasped, her words tumbling out breathlessly, “She’s Fairy Jiang Yao, she’s really Fairy Jiang Yao.” Regret flooded her. Had she known, she could have ignored the steward’s hint—at worst, she’d have lost a month’s wages. But a chance to get close to Fairy Jiang Yao—she might never have another in her entire life.

Zhang Chen left her to her regrets and entered the room.

Chuncao retraced her steps, dazed and dispirited, all her good mood gone. No, not just for a day—perhaps a week, a month, even a year. Maybe, even when she was old and gray, she’d still regret what she’d done today.

Inside the plainly furnished room, Qin Yi leaned by the window, running his fingers along the sill. “Looks like paying respects this New Year won’t be as easy as we’d hoped.”

Jiang Yao smiled. “Let things take their course.”

Zhang Chen, still fuming, said, “Qin the Unjust, you can’t let Uncle Qin and Aunt He be treated like this.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Qin Yi smiled, gazing out at the bright sunlit day, murmuring, “Even during the New Year, peace is hard to come by.”

Whether or not he could amount to anything was one thing, but he would never allow his parents to suffer indignity.

…

In the main hall of the He family’s ancestral residence, a somber atmosphere reigned. Everyone present sat in solemn silence.

“Are you sure it’s that?” After a long pause, the elder in the main seat—hair and beard white as snow, features stern and dignified, his posture still as upright as a mountain despite his age—rose to speak.

“Father, it has been confirmed without a doubt.” The one responding was not He Mengqing, recently summoned by the steward, but a middle-aged man in black who bore a striking resemblance to the patriarch. He was the He family’s representative for this maritime venture, He Mengwei’s father, He Yongning.

The old family head grunted and sank back into his seat, sighing, “Even at New Year, there is no peace.”

Just then, from his seat near the door, He Mengqing hesitated, then finally stepped forward to the center of the hall. Looking up at the family head, he announced, “Grandfather, Qin Yi has arrived.”

At the mention of that name, the family head’s brows knotted in irritation. “I will not see him.”

At these words, a scholar-like man in gray—bearing an even closer resemblance to He Mengqing—stood from his seat on the left. Bowing quickly, he pleaded, “Father, that would be ill-advised. Qin Yi has come all the way from Fish-Dragon Fort to the South Sea to pay his New Year respects. How could we turn him away at the door?”

The patriarch shot him a mocking glance. “My dear De’er, since when do you, the head of the He family, concern yourself with the family’s affairs?”

The gray-clad man fell silent, returning to his seat—the first on the left, reserved for the family head yet not the main seat. He opened a well-thumbed book he always carried, one of the classics authored by the Sage, the backbone of humanity since the great war of antiquity: the Dao Canon.

At this, He Yongning—seated in the first place on the right—addressed the patriarch. “Father, Qin Yi is worth meeting.”

“Oh?” The patriarch turned to him. “Why?”

He Yongning explained, “You have long been secluded, so perhaps you are unaware, but Wan Ting’s child is rather extraordinary.”

“Oh?” The old patriarch straightened a little. “How so?”

He Yongning replied, “To my knowledge, four years ago Qin Yi took part in the Taiyi Mountain entrance ritual. During the second trial, not only did he make the rare purple-gold lotus bloom with eighty-one petals, but he also awakened the peerless Dao Embryo, causing a phenomenon, and was finally accepted as the fifth disciple of Master Zixuan…”

He paused, his tone growing grave. “Furthermore, among their party—not only does he travel with Zhang Chen, disciple of Qingfuzi of Tianxuan Peak, but also with none other than Jiang Yao, once lauded as one of Taiyi Mountain’s twin jewels.”

As He Yongning finished, the old patriarch, who had been lounging indifferently, now sat bolt upright. He tapped the arm of his chair, murmuring, “Eighty-one petals, peerless Dao Embryo, Master Zixuan… Jiang Yao…” Suddenly, he turned to He Mengwei, who rarely spoke in these gatherings. “Xiaowei, is this true?”

He Mengwei, caught off guard, answered hurriedly, “Grandfather, every word Second Uncle said is true.”

The patriarch narrowed his eyes, then spoke with measured gravity, “Summon Qin Yi to the hall.”