Chapter 042: The Duke Must Die

The Duke of England’s mansion was situated in the western part of the city, sprawling across more than a dozen acres and occupying almost half of the lane. The architecture within was lavish and grand, adorned with upturned eaves and intricate brackets, beams and columns exquisitely carved and painted, all testifying to the handiwork of master craftsmen. Every detail of the landscaping was artfully arranged: fantastically shaped rockeries, clear flowing ponds, and rare, exotic flowers and plants were everywhere, reflecting the refined taste of the owner.

Previously, when Xue Rui had requested an audience with Lady Wu, the Duchess of England, Captain Li Qingyun had hesitated for a moment before deciding to bring him to the mansion. On the way, after some friendly conversation, Xue Rui learned a bit about Li’s background. Back in the thirteenth year of Yongle’s reign, Li Qingyun’s father had followed Zhang Fu on his campaign to Annam, achieving numerous feats of valor. After his father’s untimely death from illness, the young Li Qingyun was left behind, still a child. Out of compassion, Zhang Fu had raised him at an estate outside the city. When Li came of age, he became one of Zhang Fu’s personal guards, gradually earning his trust and eventually rising to command the household guards—a confidant among confidants.

When Zhang Fu set out on his latest campaign, for reasons unknown, he left Li Qingyun behind in the capital to protect the mansion. In the aftermath of the Ming army’s crushing defeat, Li had thus evaded disaster and survived. Now, amidst chaos and war, Li Qingyun had heard conflicting rumors: some claimed Zhang Fu had died in battle, others that he had fled, and still others that he had surrendered to the Oirat Mongols. No one could say which was true. Helpless and anxious, all Li could do was send people everywhere to seek news.

Later, Lady Wu recalled Xue Yuanhao, who a month earlier had caused a commotion at the mansion. She reasoned that, since he had predicted the court’s expedition would end poorly, he must possess some genuine talent. So she ordered Li Qingyun to invite him, hoping to consult him about her husband’s fate. But now, with Xue Yuanhao imprisoned by imperial order and Hu Zhong confined to bed by illness, Li Qingyun, with no alternative, took Xue Rui’s advice and brought him to the mansion, handing him over to a maid who was to lead him to Lady Wu.

For reasons unknown, the maid brought him to the main hall, served him tea, and then vanished, leaving Xue Rui to wait for a good while. After what seemed like the time it takes to drink two cups of tea, footsteps finally sounded outside the main hall, and five people entered in succession.

At their head was a woman of about thirty. Dignified in appearance, she radiated noble grace, her attire sumptuous and elegant, marking her at once as someone of high station. Seeing her bearing, Xue Rui guessed she must be Lady Wu, Zhang Fu’s second wife—surprised to find her so young.

As she came to a halt, Xue Rui rose and saluted her. “Your servant, Xue Rui, greets my lady.”

“No need for formalities, young sir. Please, be seated,” the lady replied graciously, extending a hand in a courteous gesture before taking her seat at the head of the hall.

As Xue Rui sat down, he took stock of the others. Among them were a young woman with her hair in a high chignon, a girl dressed as a maid, and a boy of about eight or nine.

Once all were seated, Lady Wu addressed Xue Rui: “I heard from Captain Li that your father has been taken to the imperial prison?”

Xue Rui had been wondering how to broach the subject, and now replied, “Indeed. My father, meaning only to offer sound advice to the Duke, was seized by the Embroidered Guard upon his return to the Astronomical Bureau. It has been a month now; I do not know if he is alive or dead.” He deliberately cast the matter in grave terms, hoping to elicit sympathy. His unspoken meaning was clear: my father was imprisoned for trying to dissuade the Duke—shouldn’t your household show some concern?

Lady Wu, however, misunderstood. Her brows knitted slightly as she explained, “Young sir, your father’s arrest was not the doing of our household, but someone else’s. Please do not blame the wrong people.”

“I know very well it was not the Duke’s doing,” Xue Rui replied. “But my father bore a heavy burden in offering his warning, and the Duke’s refusal has now led him into peril. Now he—”

“You mean to say, there is still hope for the master’s survival?” Before he could finish, the bejeweled young woman across from him burst out excitedly. From her manner, it was easy to guess she was one of Zhang Fu’s concubines.

At this moment, those most anxious for Zhang Fu’s safety were his concubines, who had no children of their own and whose status depended entirely upon him. Should he perish, their days of favor would be over—a prospect that filled them with dread.

Xue Rui glanced at her and shook his head. “No. When my father tried to dissuade the Duke, he spoke plainly: this campaign would bring ill fortune, and the Duke, if he insisted on going, would surely die in battle. Now, it seems, all hope is lost.”

Crash!

A teacup shattered on the floor. Xue Rui looked over to see the young boy, now standing by Lady Wu, rush forward and point at him, shouting, “Nonsense! My father has survived countless battles and dangers—he will come home safely this time too! If you keep talking rubbish, I’ll have you flogged!”

Xue Rui turned to Lady Wu, puzzled. “And this young master is?”

A maid standing by quickly supplied, “This is the second young master of the house.”

Xue Rui had already learned that Zhang Fu had two sons: his legitimate eldest, Zhang Zhong, born of his first wife, Li, now thirty; and his younger son, Zhang Mao, born to Lady Wu, just nine years old. Clearly, this boy was Zhang Mao.

“So this is young master,” Xue Rui said, bowing slightly. “There are no invincible generals, nor are there battles that can always be won. Even His Majesty suffered defeat this time. Can you truly guarantee your father will return unharmed?”

“I—I can!” Zhang Mao, still a child, was no match for Xue Rui’s reasoning and had no answer.

Lady Wu pulled her son close, her voice trembling. “Young sir, is there truly no hope for my husband’s survival?”

Xue Rui had not come to comfort the Duke’s family, but for another purpose. To carry out his plan, he needed the household’s matron, Lady Wu, to abandon hope and believe that he possessed true foresight—only then could he gain her trust. And this foresight would be proven by his certainty of Zhang Fu’s death: the more certain he sounded now, the more convincing he would be once news arrived.

Thus, he replied resolutely, “My lady, the Duke’s danger is grave. News will surely reach here within three days—perhaps as soon as tomorrow. It would be wise to prepare for the worst.”

Hearing his certainty, the women, already overwhelmed with anxiety, broke down completely and began to wail in despair. Witnessing such grief, Xue Rui could not help but feel a pang of guilt—tormenting the bereaved was hardly honorable. Yet he had his reasons for doing so. In the end, he could only console himself that it was better to prepare them now than let them be crushed by grief later.

At length, when their tears were spent, Lady Wu, her eyes red, turned to Zhang Fu’s other concubines and said, “This is not your concern. Go and wash up, lest you become the subject of gossip.”

“Yes, madam.” With this order, the two concubines departed together.

When they had gone, Lady Wu composed herself and looked at Xue Rui with renewed seriousness. “Captain Li said you had some urgent matter to discuss with me?”

At last, the real conversation was about to begin. Xue Rui had endured all this to reach this moment, and nodded. “Indeed, I have come specially to ease your ladyship’s troubles.”

“Other than the Duke’s safety, what troubles could I have?” Lady Wu asked coldly, her demeanor suddenly stern.

Unfazed by her change in tone, Xue Rui replied, “Had you no other worries, my lady, you would have dismissed me long ago, not waited until the others had left to speak with me in private.”