The green train, dragging a heavy rhythm, finally pulled into the Beijing train station.
The whistle gave a long, hoarse blast, announcing the end of a long journey.
The train doors opened.
A breath of air completely different from that of the northern frontier rushed in.
It wasn’t the bone-chilling cold wind, but a heavy mixture of coal smoke, voices, and some sediment of power.
Su Wanqing followed closely behind Lu Zhanting as they stepped off the train.
Only when her feet touched the solid platform did she truly feel she had arrived in Beijing.
The scene before her caused a momentary daze.
The platform was crowded with people, their various accents converging into a roaring wave. People wearing blue and gray work uniforms carried large and small packages, rushing about. Officers in military uniforms walked steadily, eyes fixed straight ahead.
On the tall platform building in the distance hung bright red slogans, strikingly vivid under the gray sky.
This was the heart of the country.
Every brick and tile carried the dust of history and the majesty of power.
Su Wanqing tightened her grip on Lu Zhanting’s hand.
His palm was broad and warm but now held a trace of stiffness.
Lu Zhanting did not look at the surrounding scene; his sharp gaze swept over the crowd at the exit.
Since setting foot on this land, his entire demeanor had changed.
In the northern frontier, he was relaxed, the master.
Here, he was like a lion invading another’s territory, every muscle taut, eyes full of cold vigilance.
Feeling Su Wanqing’s nervous grip, he turned his hand to envelop hers tightly and whispered, “Don’t be afraid, stay close to me.”
They had only one army green canvas bag, carried by Lu Zhanting, weaving through the crowded crowd, appearing particularly simple.
As they reached the exit, a middle-aged man wearing a crisp gray Zhongshan suit approached.
The man was around fifty, his hair combed neatly, expressionless face, but his eyes were shrewd and assessing.
He walked straight up to Lu Zhanting, nodded slightly, his tone as bland as a work report.
“Young Master Zhanting, by order of the old master, I have come to receive you.”
He said “you” in a formal way but showed no respect in his demeanor.
His gaze lingered on Lu Zhanting for a second before turning to Su Wanqing beside him.
It was an extremely rude scrutiny, head to toe, as if appraising the quality of merchandise.
When his gaze fell on Su Wanqing’s clean, neat but clearly ordinary fabric cotton coat, the corner of his mouth twitched down imperceptibly.
This subtle expression did not escape Su Wanqing’s eyes.
Lu Zhanting’s face immediately darkened.
He stepped forward, completely shielding Su Wanqing behind him, his voice cold and devoid of warmth.
“Uncle Fu, this is my wife, Su Wanqing.”
His introduction was simple and direct, carrying the weight of declaration.
The man called Uncle Fu finally turned his gaze back to Su Wanqing, but the disdain in his eyes did not lessen. He merely nodded perfunctorily in acknowledgment, not even bothering to say “young mistress.”
“The car is waiting outside,” Uncle Fu said, turning to lead the way as if speaking another word would be a waste.
From start to finish, he showed no intention of helping carry their luggage, as if the canvas bag were something unclean.
A black sedan was parked in a special spot outside the station, its body polished bright and glaringly out of place amidst the dull surroundings.
Uncle Fu opened the rear door and gestured politely for Lu Zhanting to enter.
Lu Zhanting helped Su Wanqing into the car first before getting in himself.
The door closed, shutting out all the noise outside.
The car’s interior was spacious, with leather seats emitting a strange scent belonging to the elite.
Uncle Fu sat in the front passenger seat, and the driver silently started the car.
The black sedan smoothly merged into the traffic.
Su Wanqing leaned against the window, watching the rapidly receding scenery.
Wide roads, rows of gray Soviet-style buildings, and a tide of bicycles flowed past. The white poplar trees lining the road were bare, their stark trunks pointing to the sky, making the city appear even more solemn.
Occasionally, she glimpsed the corner of a palace with red walls and golden tiles reflecting a faint light under the winter sun.
This city was too big—too awe-inspiring.
And too cold.
This cold was unrelated to temperature but came from the bone-deep order and alienation of the power center.
“When we get home later, no matter what they say, don’t take it to heart,” Lu Zhanting’s voice sounded by her ear, warm breath brushing her earlobe, “I’m here.”
Su Wanqing turned to smile at him softly, saying, “I know.”
She did not look at Uncle Fu in the front, but she could feel that invisible, cold gaze through the rearview mirror resting on them.
The car drove for about half an hour, then turned into a quiet alley.
The atmosphere here was completely different from the main street outside. Tall courtyard walls separated independent compounds, and sentries stood at the gates.
Only the rich and noble lived here.
Finally, the car stopped before a vermilion lacquered big gate.
Two majestic stone lions squatted at the gate, and the high threshold proclaimed the owner’s status.
There was no plaque hanging above the door, but it was more intimidating than any sign.
This was the Lu family estate.
Su Wanqing looked at the tightly closed door and thought: indeed, this is a fortress.
Uncle Fu got out of the car but didn’t knock on the main door. Instead, he walked to a small side gate and spoke softly inside.
Then, they waited in the car.
Time passed second by second, but the door did not open.
Lu Zhanting’s hands clenched into fists on his knees, veins bulging on the backs of his hands.
This was a show of power.
Making this “eldest legitimate grandson,” who had been away from home for so long, bring his “not presentable” wife and wait like a stranger at his own family’s door for permission.
Su Wanqing reached out, gently covering his clenched fist with her soft hand, full of soothing warmth.
Lu Zhanting’s tense body relaxed slightly. He turned to look at her, seeing her calm expression, eyes without panic or grievance—only clear, composed coolness.
She was observing and noting everything.
Another ten full minutes passed before the side door finally creaked open.
Uncle Fu returned, opened the car door, still expressionless: “Young Master Zhanting, the old madam allows you to enter.”
He used “you two,” a vague and dismissive term.
Lu Zhanting held Su Wanqing’s hand, carrying the canvas bag, and stepped over the threshold of the Lu family estate.
Inside was a huge screen wall; turning around it were layered courtyards, covered corridors with carved beams and painted rafters, every step treading on the weight of history.
Servants came and went in the yard, barely glancing at them before quickly lowering their heads and hurrying away.
In their eyes were curiosity and sympathy, but mostly a tacit distance and contempt.
No one welcomed them here.
Uncle Fu did not take them to meet the elders, nor lead them to the main house, but passed through several courtyards until stopping at a small courtyard in the northwest corner of the entire residence.
This courtyard looked long uninhabited; the paint on the gate was peeling, yellowed weeds grew in the corner of the yard, giving a bleak and dilapidated impression.
“This is the Quiet Reflection Courtyard,” Uncle Fu pushed open the gate, and a musty, moldy smell hit them. “The old madam says, Young Master Zhanting has had a hard journey. This place is quiet and suitable for rest. Dinner is at six in the main hall. Please be punctual.”
Quiet Reflection Courtyard—a name full of irony.
They were being treated as wrongdoers, sent here to reflect on their mistakes.
After speaking, Uncle Fu didn’t even enter the yard but turned and left, as if staying any longer would dirty his shoes.
Lu Zhanting stood at the gate, looking at the dilapidated scene, his face darkening.
The murderous aura honed on the battlefield spread from him, making the air heavy.
But Su Wanqing pulled his hand and stepped into the yard first.
She looked around; though old, it was fairly clean. There was a pomegranate tree and an abandoned small flower bed.
“Not bad,” she smiled warmly at Lu Zhanting, the smile especially bright in the winter sun. “It’s quiet here, no one to disturb us.”
Lu Zhanting looked at her, at those clear eyes unpolluted by humiliation or anger, and miraculously some of his raging fury subsided.
His Wanqing was even stronger than he had imagined.
He carried the luggage into the room. The room was simply furnished — a bed, a table, two chairs, all covered with a thin layer of dust. The bedding was new, but emitted the smell of camphor balls that had been stored in a warehouse for a long time.
“Sorry to trouble you,” Lu Zhanting said hoarsely as he put down the bag.
“We are husband and wife; there’s no such thing as trouble between us,” Su Wanqing said, walking to the window and pushing it open to let the sunlight in. “At least, we still live together.”
Lu Zhanting’s heart was hit hard by those words.
Yes, they had not been separated—that was already the best outcome.
After a quick tidying up, Su Wanqing took out the sheets she had brought and changed the bedding, then wiped the windows clean. Before long, the dead and stagnant room seemed to gain a bit of life.
Seeing the time was nearly right, they changed their clothes and prepared to go to the main hall for the banquet.
Su Wanqing knew this was far from an ordinary family dinner.
This was a Hongmen Banquet—a true, silent battlefield.
When they entered the brightly lit main hall, all eyes turned sharply toward them.
Along the long redwood dining table, the seats were already full.
At the head of the table sat an elderly man in a dark traditional Tang jacket, with a lean face and a solemn expression. He leaned on a dragon-headed cane; though sitting, he carried an aura of authority that commanded respect without anger.
He was Lu Zhanting’s grandfather, the head of the Lu family, Lu Zhenguo.
Beside him sat a well-dressed, well-maintained middle-aged woman with a kind smile that didn’t reach her eyes—Lu Zhanting’s stepmother, Liu Yuzhen.
Next to Liu Yuzhen was her son, Lu Zhanwen. He wore a floral shirt and was looking at Su Wanqing with a playful yet malicious gaze.
On the other side of the table sat a young woman.
She wore a neat off-white dress, her long hair softly curled, and her demeanor elegant. When she saw Lu Zhanting enter, her eyes brightened briefly before she seemed to realize something and showed a smile mixed with apology and helplessness.
She was the daughter of the Song family, Song Tingyu.
Though seated here as a “guest,” she assumed the posture of the lady of the house.
In the entire dining room, besides them, there was no one else.
This was a carefully arranged trial.
“Oh, big brother is back,” Lu Zhanwen sneered, breaking the silence. “What a rare guest. And this must be… sister-in-law? You look so… rustic.”
Liu Yuzhen immediately shot him a sharp glance and scolded, “Zhanwen, how do you speak to your brother and sister-in-law? No manners.”
Then she turned to Su Wanqing, her smile softening. “You must be Wanqing? Sit down quickly. It must have been hard coming all the way from the northern frontier. That place is freezing, a girl like you must have suffered a lot.”
Her words sounded full of concern, but every word reminded Su Wanqing that she was from a completely different world.
Lu Zhanting expressionlessly pulled out a chair for Su Wanqing and sat down beside her. He ignored Liu Yuzhen and Lu Zhanwen, instead looking toward Lu Zhenguo at the head of the table and spoke deeply, “Grandfather.”
Lu Zhenguo slowly lifted his eyelids, his cloudy but exceptionally sharp eyes scanning Lu Zhanting’s face, completely ignoring Su Wanqing beside him.
“You still remember to come back,” Lu Zhenguo said quietly but with immense weight. “And still remember to call me grandfather.”
The atmosphere in the dining room instantly dropped to freezing point.
“Zhanting, don’t make your grandfather angry,” Song Tingyu softly interjected, trying to mediate. “Grandfather is worried about you. You really were too impulsive this time.”
Her words seemed to excuse Lu Zhanting but in fact branded his marriage to Su Wanqing as a reckless mistake.
Lu Zhanting shot her a cold glance but said nothing.
“Let’s eat,” Lu Zhenguo said icily, picking up his chopsticks but not moving them.
The servants began to bring out dishes, exquisite plates were placed on the table, but no one was in the mood to taste.
“Wanqing grew up in the countryside and may not have seen so many dishes before,” Liu Yuzhen said “considerately,” offering Su Wanqing a bite of bird’s nest. “Eat more, strengthen your body. You’re so thin, Zhanting hasn’t taken good care of you.”
Her words were double-edged, disparaging Su Wanqing’s background and blaming Lu Zhanting.
Finally, Su Wanqing spoke.
Her voice was soft but clear: “Thank you, aunt. When I was in the countryside, my family was poor. I really hadn’t eaten such good food before.”
“But my parents taught me to respect elders at meals. Since grandfather hasn’t started eating, I don’t dare eat first.”
Her words were neither humble nor arrogant. She acknowledged her origins but used filial piety to cleverly turn the issue back on the table, implying that no one else here understood proper manners.
Liu Yuzhen’s smile stiffened.
Lu Zhenguo’s eyes shifted; for the first time, he looked directly at Su Wanqing.
“Hmph, sharp-tongued,” he snorted coldly and finally picked up his chopsticks. “Eat!”
At his command, everyone began to eat.
The meal was eaten with no appetite, filled with silent confrontation.
Only after dinner ended, servants cleared the dishes and replaced them with hot tea, did Lu Zhenguo put down his teacup and issue his final ultimatum.
He still looked at Lu Zhanting, his tone devoid of any emotion: “I give you two choices. First, break cleanly with this woman immediately, and tomorrow go with Tingyu to register your marriage. I will pretend this never happened.”
A flash of shame and pride passed across Song Tingyu’s face.
“Second,” Lu Zhenguo’s voice suddenly turned cold, “if you persist in your folly, then get out of the Lu family. From now on, I, Lu Zhenguo, have no grandson by your name!”
Everyone held their breath.
Su Wanqing’s heart was in her throat.
Lu Zhanting slowly stood up, his tall figure casting a long shadow under the lights.
He didn’t look at his grandfather or Song Tingyu but turned to Su Wanqing and looked deeply into her eyes.
Then, before everyone, he spoke clearly and resolutely, word by word:
“In this life, I, Lu Zhanting, have only one wife.”
“Her name is Su Wanqing.”
“In the past, now, and in the future.”
His words exploded in the dead silence of the main hall.
Song Tingyu’s face instantly turned pale.
Shock was written all over Liu Yuzhen and Lu Zhanwen’s faces.
“How dare you!” Lu Zhenguo slammed the table loudly, rising abruptly. His dragon-headed cane struck the floor heavily, making a dull thud that struck everyone’s hearts.
“Are you willing to betray the whole family for a country girl?” The old man trembled with rage.
“I have not betrayed the family,” Lu Zhanting faced his grandfather’s furious glare, standing tall and firm. “I am only protecting my wife.”
“Good… good… good!” Lu Zhenguo laughed bitterly in his anger. “My good grandson! Guards!”
Two soldiers in military uniforms immediately rushed in.
“Lock him in the ancestral hall!” Lu Zhenguo shouted, pointing his cane at Lu Zhanting. “Do not let him out without my order! I want to see how hard his bones really are!”
The guards expressionlessly stepped forward, one on each side, grabbing Lu Zhanting’s arms.
He did not resist.
Before being taken away, he looked back at Su Wanqing.
In his eyes, no fear or regret, only deep apology and a promise to reassure her.
Su Wanqing also looked at him, gently shaking her head and mouthing silently: I’m fine.
The heavy door slammed shut behind Lu Zhanting.
In the main hall, only Su Wanqing remained, alone facing the Lu family members’ predatory gazes.
The silent battlefield finally unfolded its bloody curtain.