Lady Wei sent me a letter.
This was how courtship became employment.
Qiao’er brought it after breakfast.
I noticed the folded silk immediately.
Not because I had become observant.
Because she was holding it with both hands and looking far too innocent.
“What?”
“A message for Young Master.”
“From whom?”
She held it out.
I looked at the handwriting.
Then at her.
“Lady Wei?”
“Yes.”
Already?
I took it.
The note was short.
Young Master,
I asked Father whether he commands any troops.
He assures me he does not.
I thought this might ease your concerns.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
Qiao’er waited.
“She understands me.”
Qiao’er looked at the note.
“She is making fun of you.”
“I know.”
I read it again.
“She understands me.”
For the first time since arriving in this century, I felt genuinely optimistic about marriage.
Qiao’er held out her hand.
I gave her the note.
She read it herself.
“Young Master seems pleased.”
“Her father has no army.”
“That was already true yesterday.”
“Yes, but now I have written confirmation.”
Qiao’er handed the note back.
I carefully folded it.
Then noticed she had not left.
“What?”
“You should answer.”
There it was.
The trap.
“Why?”
“Because she wrote to you.”
“I received it.”
“Yes.”
“She knows it reached me.”
“How?”
I looked at the letter.
Then at Qiao’er.
“That seems like a problem for the postal system.”
“Young Master.”
I sighed.
“What am I supposed to say?”
“Lady Song is waiting.”
I stared at her.
“You involved Mother?”
“Lady Wei’s message came through her.”
“So there were already two women involved before it reached me.”
“Yes.”
“And now there are three.”
“Yes.”
Marriage was expanding faster than Yuan Shao.
Mother had prepared ink.
That was never a good sign.
She sat by the window with a brush, blank silk, and the patient expression of someone who expected resistance but had already decided it would fail.
I sat opposite her.
Qiao’er remained nearby.
Mother pushed the blank silk toward me.
“Reply.”
I looked at it.
Then at Lady Wei’s note.
Then back at the blank silk.
“Received.”
Mother stared at me.
“What?”
“I can write ‘Received.’”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you are courting a woman, not requisitioning grain.”
I looked at the blank silk.
“The grain was easier.”
Qiao’er looked down.
I saw it.
The corner of her mouth.
Mother ignored both of us.
“Tell her you were pleased to hear from her.”
“That seems excessive.”
“She wrote to you personally.”
“I am personally receiving it.”
“Yu’er.”
Fine.
I thought about Lady Wei’s note again.
“What about, ‘I am pleased to hear Magistrate Wei remains without troops’?”
Mother stared at me.
“That sounds like a threat.”
I repeated it silently.
I frowned.
“…It does a little.”
Qiao’er turned away.
Traitor.
Mother pressed two fingers against her forehead.
“Write something normal.”
“I am trying.”
“That is what concerns me.”
I reached for the brush.
Then stopped.
The brush waited.
I waited.
Mother waited.
Qiao’er waited.
I had survived Dong Zhuo.
I had survived Lü Bu.
I had survived riding a twelve-year-old’s horse.
Now civilization had finally found my weakness.
Calligraphy.
Qiao’er looked at my hand.
“Young Master?”
“I am thinking.”
“The brush is usually held before that part.”
I picked it up.
Wrong.
I knew it was wrong because Qiao’er’s eyes immediately moved to my fingers.
I adjusted them.
Her expression became worse.
“Like this?”
“No.”
“Helpful.”
She came closer and repositioned my fingers.
“There.”
I dipped the brush into the ink.
Then wrote.
The first character looked like it had suffered during childbirth.
I stopped.
Mother leaned closer.
Qiao’er did too.
I looked at Qiao’er.
“Well?”
She studied it carefully.
“It still looks like yours.”
Relief flooded through me.
Then she added:
“Worse.”
I had never been so pleased by criticism.
Mother looked at me strangely.
“You are smiling.”
“My standards have changed.”
I continued.
Slowly.
The second character was marginally less injured than the first.
Qiao’er watched over my shoulder.
“At least Lady Wei will know Young Master wrote it himself.”
“Why?”
“No one else would claim responsibility.”
I stopped.
Qiao’er met my eyes.
There was absolutely no remorse there.
Mother turned toward the window.
I suspected she had abandoned me.
I pointed the brush at Qiao’er.
“You have become very bold.”
“Young Master has threatened to dismiss me several times.”
“I may eventually mean it.”
“I will prepare.”
I considered making good on the threat simply to surprise her.
Unfortunately, replacing competent servants sounded like work.
I returned to the letter.
After several false starts, one rejected opening, and Mother physically removing the words still unarmed from a sentence, I finally had something.
Lady Wei,
I am pleased to hear from you.
Your father’s continued lack of soldiers is reassuring.
I also enjoyed speaking with you yesterday.
I would like to do so again.
Mother read it.
Her eyes stopped at the second line.
“No.”
“It answers her message.”
“It sounds as though you have been monitoring her father.”
“I have not.”
“That does not help.”
I looked at Qiao’er.
She read it.
Then said:
“Leave it.”
Mother looked at her.
I did too.
Qiao’er continued.
“Lady Wei already knows who she is speaking to.”
I considered that.
Fair.
Mother considered it longer.
Then sighed.
“Fine.”
Victory.
Small.
Ink-stained.
But mine.
Qiao’er reached for the letter.
I moved it away.
“The ink is wet.”
She stopped.
I felt absurdly pleased.
There.
Competence.
Brief, but undeniable.
Qiao’er waited.
I waited.
Mother waited.
The ink dried.
I handed it over.
Qiao’er folded it carefully.
I watched my first courtship letter disappear into her hands.
“This is surprisingly exhausting.”
Mother said, “You wrote five lines.”
“Exactly.”
Lady Wei answered before midday.
I was beginning to suspect she had more free time than I did.
This was attractive.
Qiao’er delivered the second note while I was eating pear slices.
I took it immediately.
Young Master,
Father has agreed not to raise an army before our next meeting.
I would also like to speak again.
I stared at it.
Then looked at Qiao’er.
“Well?”
“Her family is showing remarkable flexibility.”
Qiao’er sat the fruit dish farther from my elbow.
I read the note again.
There was something deeply satisfying about a woman understanding my concerns and using them against me.
I folded the letter.
Qiao’er watched.
“Young Master?”
“Yes?”
“You are smiling again.”
I stopped.
“I am not.”
“You are.”
I looked toward the polished bronze mirror across the room.
Damn.
I was.
“This remains confidential.”
“Of course.”
“You say that too quickly.”
She lowered her eyes.
I distrusted her deeply.
Father discovered the letter at breakfast.
Mother did not tell him.
This was important.
Mother had promised to wait, and she kept her promise.
The problem was me.
I had brought Lady Wei’s reply with me.
Not deliberately.
I had put it inside my sleeve earlier.
Apparently men in courtship carried evidence of their own destruction.
Father was eating when the edge of the folded silk slipped partly free.
His eyes moved toward it.
I immediately pushed it back inside.
He stopped chewing.
“What is that?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why did you hide it?”
“Because you looked at it.”
Father slowly put down his chopsticks.
Mother continued eating.
Qiao’er stood behind me.
Nobody helped.
“What is it?”
“A private message.”
Father’s eyebrows rose.
“From whom?”
“No one important.”
Mother drank tea.
Father looked at her.
She gave him nothing.
Then his eyes returned to me.
“A woman?”
I should have lied.
Unfortunately, Father had raised the original owner of this body for nineteen years.
“Yes.”
His face changed instantly.
The tyrant disappeared.
My father arrived.
“Who?”
I ate another bite.
“You are becoming intrusive.”
“Who?”
I considered resistance.
Then remembered who controlled most of Luoyang.
“Lady Wei.”
Father grinned.
Actually grinned.
I immediately regretted honesty.
“Magistrate Wei’s daughter?”
“Yes.”
“The one your mother mentioned?”
I looked at Mother.
She said calmly, “I mentioned several women.”
Technically correct.
Excellent woman.
Father looked at me.
“You like her?”
“Yes.”
He leaned back.
“That was quick.”
“I have been told my standards are unreasonable. Efficiency was necessary.”
Mother looked into her cup.
Father laughed.
Then the trouble began.
“What does Wei own?”
“No.”
Father paused.
“I asked a question.”
“And I am preventing the next one.”
His eyes narrowed with amusement.
“What next one?”
“You are going to offer something.”
“I was not.”
I stared at him.
Father stared back.
Then:
“Land would be appropriate.”
“No.”
“Silk.”
“No.”
“Jewelry.”
“No.”
“A horse.”
“Absolutely not.”
Father frowned.
“She may like horses.”
“Then she can admire one from a distance.”
“You own seven.”
“I know that now.”
Father looked at Mother.
“She told you?”
“No. Apparently everyone knew except him.”
I ignored this historical injustice.
Father thought for a moment.
“Magistrate Wei has served adequately.”
My chopsticks stopped.
There it was.
“I could advance him.”
“No.”
This time Father’s amusement faded.
“Why?”
“Because I like his daughter.”
“That is usually an argument in favor.”
“Not mine.”
Father leaned back.
“You want the girl.”
“Yes.”
“You like the family.”
“I have met two of them.”
“The father serves me.”
“Yes.”
“Then why not help him?”
“Because then I don’t know why she agrees.”
Father looked at me.
Mother stopped touching her tea.
I continued.
“If you promote her father now, any answer she gives afterward comes with your hand on it.”
Father’s expression changed slightly.
Not anger.
Attention.
“She may agree anyway.”
“Then you can promote him afterward.”
Mother looked at me.
Father almost smiled.
“That sounds corrupt.”
“I object to bribery before the answer.”
I picked up my tea.
“Afterward it becomes a wedding gift.”
Father laughed so suddenly I nearly spilled it.
Mother closed her eyes.
“Yu’er.”
“What?”
“You cannot call it that.”
“I just did.”
Father was still laughing.
This was going poorly in an entirely different direction.
When he finally stopped, he asked:
“And if she refuses?”
“Then she refuses.”
“You would accept that?”
“Yes.”
Father studied me.
“She needs to know she can refuse me.”
Father snorted.
“Yu’er, she has met you. Refusal will not be difficult to imagine.”
I stared at him.
Mother’s mouth moved.
Behind me, Qiao’er became intensely interested in the wall.
“I expected support.”
Father looked genuinely puzzled.
“From me?”
I reconsidered the morning.
“An error.”
He laughed again.
My family had become unbearable.
I waited.
Then said:
“No promotion.”
Father nodded.
“No gifts.”
Another nod.
“No mysterious parcel of silk appearing at Magistrate Wei’s house.”
“That sounds very specific.”
“I know you.”
Father pointed at himself.
“I raised you.”
“Then consider this revenge.”
Mother put down her cup.
“Enough.”
We both stopped.
Father looked at me.
“Then what do you want from me?”
“Nothing.”
He frowned.
“Then why are we discussing this?”
I looked at him.
“You found the letter.”
Mother covered her mouth.
Father stared at me for one long moment.
Then he laughed so hard he had to put his cup down.
I ate.
Breakfast had finally become productive.