Chapter 917: 874. Lie Fan Talk With Zhen Ji About The Zhen Clan
If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my Patreon!!!
Go to Chen Gong argued vehemently with Pang Tong in the hall, he was simultaneously drafting the initial legal edicts that would enforce the new system, the ink drying on parchment that would shatter the old order. And overseeing it all, from the solitude of his private royal study, was Lie Fan himself.
The Oriole Agents, his network of unseen eyes and ears, brought him detailed reports of every whispered conversation, every furtive glance, every attempt by the old guard to influence the process. He read the reports with a cold, analytical eye. The debate was a pot of water, and he had placed all the frogs, the corrupt, the nepotistic, and the entrenched, inside it.
Now, he was slowly turning up the heat beneath them. They felt the warmth of the debate, the comfort of thinking they were winning, and they swam happily, oblivious. They were exposing their networks, their allegiances, their very methods. They thought they were influencing history, but in reality, they were simply providing Lie Fan with a comprehensive list of names to be purged once the reform was inevitably passed.
He allowed himself a faint, cold smile. The cleaning of his court, he knew, would never truly end. But with this masterful act, he was about to scour it cleaner than it had ever been. The frogs were swimming, and the water was getting warmer by the hour.
And so, as soldiers were bound and transformed into auxiliaries in the south, the Empire’s heart in Xiapi was being reshaped with words, ink, and strategy. Two theaters, one of war and one of governance, each moving toward the same goal, that is the strengthening of the Hengyuan Dynasty, under the watchful eyes of Lie Fan.
The crisp report from the Oriole Agent was a final, satisfying piece placed onto a vast mental map. Lie Fan set the delicate rice paper aside on his lacquered desk, the characters detailing yet another clandestine meeting between a conservative minister and a wealthy landowning clan fading from his immediate focus.
The pot, as he thought of it, was simmering nicely. The frogs were blissfully unaware, their croaks of self congratulation echoing in the deliberative hall, mistaking the steam of their impending doom for the warm breath of victory.
A profound stillness settled in the royal study. The weight of empire, of countless lives and endless stratagems, could become a cage if one let it. Lie Fan knew this better than most. He rose from his chair, his imperial robes, heavy with embroidery, seeming to sigh with him. He needed an antidote to the poison of court intrigue, and he knew exactly where to find it.
He made his way through the silent, spacious corridors of the palace, the guards snapping to attention and then melting back into the shadows as he passed.
His destination was not the Hall of Heavenly Ministers, nor the military commandery, but the Harem Palace. More specifically, the private gardens within, a sanctuary he had designed himself with winding paths, lotus ponds, and pavilions with roofs like swooping swallows’ wings. It was his wives’ favorite retreat, and his own.
As he approached, the sound reached him first. It was not the polished, flawless performance of the court musicians, but something far more precious: the sound of learning, of shared endeavor. It was the melody of a complex guqin piece, but punctuated by hesitant plucks, soft laughter, and gentle corrections.
He paused at the moon gate entrance, not wanting to break the spell. In the central pavilion, surrounded by blooming peonies and the gentle murmur of a miniature waterfall, sat his heart.
Ying Yue, her posture regal even in relaxation, had her fingers poised over the strings of a magnificent guqin. Beside her, the serene Cai Wenji was demonstrating a fingering technique, her movements fluid and graceful. Across from them, Diao Chan, Lu Lingqi, and Zhen Ji watched with intense concentration, their own instruments before them.
Diao Chan’s brow was furrowed in focus, the former dancer’s grace translating awkwardly to the strings. Lu Lingqi, more accustomed to the grip of a spear, handled the delicate instrument with a warrior’s cautious respect. Zhen Ji, the youngest, had a look of pure, frustrated determination.
It was a scene of such perfect, unguarded harmony that Lie Fan’s smile was not one of imperial approval, but of a man truly coming home. The cold strategist of the study vanished, replaced by a husband.
He stepped into the garden, his footsteps soft on the gravel path. “Such a beautiful, though somewhat rebellious, melody,” he said, his voice warm. “It seems the guqin is putting up a noble resistance against my formidable wives.”
All five women looked up, their faces lighting up with identical joy. The music stopped abruptly as they rose, a rustle of silk, and offered gentle, respectful bows. “Husband,” they chorused, their voices a blend of love and reverence.
“Please, don’t let me interrupt,” Lie Fan said, gesturing for them to sit. “I’ve just come to listen. Consider me a most appreciative audience. The sound of your practice is far more soothing to my ears than any number of ministerial reports.”
They exchanged glances, their lips curving into smiles. His words, simple though they were, touched them deeply. It was rare these days that he allowed himself such small indulgences. Cai Wenji inclined her head and returned to her seat, her long sleeves flowing like water. Ying Yue guided the others back down, and the lesson resumed.
Lie Fan took a place upon a stone bench nearby. He poured himself a cup of tea from the pot resting on the side table. The fragrance of jasmine rose as he sipped, the warmth spreading through him. Then he leaned back slightly, closing his eyes as the notes of the guqin once again filled the garden.
The melody was uneven. Fingers missed, strings buzzed, tones wavered, but he did not mind. Each wrong note was softened by the sincerity behind it. Cai Wenji’s clear voice soon joined the strings, singing softly, weaving words of longing and resilience into the night air. Her voice was like a river flowing under moonlight, and Lie Fan felt himself surrender to it, his eyes fully closed now, his breath steady.
When the final note faded, hanging in the fragrant air, he opened his eyes and applauded softly, genuinely. “Exquisite. Even the wrong notes had a certain charm. Thank you. You have no idea how much I needed that.”
They blushed and offered their thanks, basking in his praise. Then, from among them, a softer voice emerged. Zhen Ji, her beauty touched by a certain melancholy tonight, lifted her gaze to him. “Husband,” she began, her tone respectful yet carrying a trace of hesitation, “may I ask something of you?”
“Of course, Zhen’er,” Lie Fan said, using the affectionate nickname he had for her. “You know you can ask me anything.”
She lowered her eyes a moment, gathering courage, then said, “I wish to visit the Zhen Clan residence here in Xiapi. It has been some time since I last saw my sisters, and my father and mother have written letters urging me to come. They ask that I present myself at least once, as a daughter of the house.”
The air in the pavilion shifted almost imperceptibly. The other women exchanged brief, knowing glances. The Zhen Clan was powerful, its patriarch, Zhen Yi, famously ambitious.
Lie Fan’s expression remained gentle, but his eyes, for a moment, held the sharpness of the man in the study. “Of course, you may visit. You need not ask so humbly. You are free to see your kin whenever your heart desires. Only take enough protection with you, and inform me a day before, so arrangements can be made, so I do not worry.”
He paused, taking a sip of his tea. “But I have a question for you. Why do they ask you to come to them? Why do your father and mother not come here? Your sisters and their husbands would be welcome guests at the palace. Surely, that would be a greater honor?”
Zhen Ji lowered her head, her fingers twisting the tassel tighter. A silence stretched, filled only by the trickle of the waterfall. When she looked up, her eyes were clear but sad. “I know why, husband,” she said softly, her voice firm despite its quiet tone. “My father and my mother… especially my father… wishes for me to visit to show the other merchant clans that I am still under his influence. That even as an Imperial Concubine, the Zhen Clan still holds my leash. It is not affection that drives his request, but calculation. To raise his standing by displaying me as his daughter before others.”
Lie Fan’s smile was one of proud admiration. He stood and walked over to her, cupping her cheek gently. Her skin was soft as a petal. “You are still as clever as the day I met you,” he said, his thumb brushing away a tear she hadn’t even realized had formed. “It gladdens my heart that you see his scheme for what it is. I do not wish to keep you from your family, my love. You must believe that. But your father, Zhen Yi… he is one of the craftiest and most sly men I have ever encountered. His ambition is a bottomless pit. His schemes drip with honey yet conceal poison.”
Zhen Ji leaned into his touch, a sad smile touching her lips. “I know. I have known it for many years. Even as a girl, I saw how he bartered people like goods, how his words wrapped around others until they bent to his will. He is my father, but I learned long ago not to mistake his ambitions for love. I have experienced his… slyness… firsthand.”
“Then know this,” Lie Fan said, his voice dropping to an intimate murmur meant only for her, though the others listened with supportive silence. “You are not his pawn anymore. Your family is here. With Yue’er, with Ji’er, with Qi’er, with Chan’er, and with me, alongside the children. We are your true family now.”
Zhen Ji’s smile finally reached her eyes, genuine and grateful. “Thank you, husband.”
He straightened slightly, his expression turning thoughtful. “Perhaps it is time I acted. The Zhen Clan cannot be allowed to remain entirely in your father’s grasp. If influence must be shifted, perhaps your eldest brother, Zhen Tuo, should rise to replace him. He has at least shown restraint where your father has not. Less greed, more honor.”
Zhen Ji looked at him, understanding dawning. She knew this was not just a husband’s comfort; it was the Emperor speaking. “Brother Zhen Tuo is a good man,” she affirmed quietly. “He cares for the clan’s well being, not just its wealth. I… I will support whatever action you deem necessary, husband. Husband’s judgment is the compass of my life now.”
______________________________
Name: Lie Fan
Title: Founding Emperor Of Hengyuan Dynasty
Age: 35 (202 AD)
Level: 16
Next Level: 462,000
Renown: 2325
Cultivation: Yin Yang Separation (level 9)
SP: 1,121,700
ATTRIBUTE POINTS
STR: 966 (+20)
VIT: 623 (+20)
AGI: 623 (+10)
INT: 667
CHR: 98
WIS: 549
WILL: 432
ATR Points: 0
Creation is hard, cheer me up! VOTE for me!
Like it ? Add to library!
I tagged this book, come and support me with a thumbs up!
Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know.