“Can strategists not ascend to the throne?”
In the environment of the Han Dynasty’s emphasis on prophecy and divination, dreaming of Mount Taishan and carrying the sun in one’s hands actually carries a somewhat dragon-like connotation.
And not just any dragon, mind you.
Since the First Emperor’s sealing at Mount Taishan, out of the twenty or so emperors from then until now, under Liu Hong’s reign, only two could boast of qualifying for such an honor: Emperor Wu, Liu Che, and Emperor Guangwu, Liu Xiu.
Though the Han Dynasty remains centralized, the crisis hiding everywhere is laid bare beneath the Yellow Turban Rebellion’s pretext.
Liu Hong focuses on the Xiping Stone Classics for education but indulges in power plays and lavish excess.
Clearly, he’s not cut out to be an emperor worthy of the honor of sealing at Mount Taishan.
Cheng Li hasn’t even considered the scenario of the feudal lords fragmenting into power struggles or the Han Dynasty collapsing, replaced by someone else.
He’s merely thinking that the sun, as symbolized in this prophecy, might not indicate that emperor, but rather someone capable of stabilizing the current chaos — someone with abilities akin to Huo Guang, who once facilitated the revival of the Zhao and Xuan dynasties.
Could Qiao Yan be that person?
Cheng Li wasn’t brave enough to reply definitively at this moment.
But as for the world’s famed figures, he wouldn’t be outdone — the Great Virtuous Teacher in front of him is not only skilled in eloquence but shows compassion even while suppressing the Yellow Turban rebels; such individuals aren’t exactly common.
If Qiao Yan were merely talented at reciting poetry and explaining Confucian texts, Cheng Li might have doubted whether she could truly deliver on her contributions.
But her ability to gauge human sentiment and strategize accordingly is already fully developed. This skill only gets better with the increased experience of major events, and won’t diminish her uniqueness.
Besides, her name includes the character “Yan.”
What does “Yan” mean? The luster of jade like fire, signifying the flames of brilliance.
And if that jade radiates brilliance, isn’t it just like a rising sun?
Could this dream of carrying the sun be a reference to Qiao Yan?
Cheng Li, upon Qiao Yan’s arrival, couldn’t help but wonder if she had come with an ulterior motive for testing him.
If she were to play the emotional card, Cheng Li would undoubtedly think she was undermining a ruler; if she faltered while trying to take the initiative or showed any hint of awkwardness in conversation, he’d be sure she’d missed the opportunity to be clever.
But now, her calm assertion, “Mr. Zhongde understands me,” made Cheng Li chuckle.
He’s already forty; with a life expectancy of fifty or sixty at most, time for him to make his mark is running out.
Coming from a poor background, it can’t exactly be called a prestigious lineage, and as for the commoners, they were still a part of a clan, albeit a humble one!
He hardly qualifies as a commoner, not to mention how Zhu Jun’s position as a local dignitary granted to him deserved to be honored as a virtuous official did offer a limited path to advancement.
He is indeed somewhat picky about whom he serves, but upon reflection, following Qiao Yan might genuinely be his best shot now.
The geographic location of Leping guarantees it could indeed be a fertile ground for anyone to showcase their talents.
If that’s the case, why not take a chance and gamble on whether the person who dethrones the local lord could indeed become a blazing sun?
Cheng Li’s thoughts flickered in an instant. Looking at Qiao Yan, he stood up and bowed in her direction, saying, “If Lady Qiao thinks highly of me, I, Cheng Li, will dare not refuse your command.”
This was precisely the person he doubted would follow her, and yet here he was, offering to join her, causing Qiao Yan to breathe a sigh of relief.
However, this sense of reassurance didn’t need to show on her face. She replied to Cheng Li, “Since we’re on our way to Luoyang, shouldn’t we take a detour to Dong’e first?”
Given that a top strategist like Cheng Li was willing to temporarily follow her, Qiao Yan naturally wanted to consider his needs as well.
Given the gravity of military strategy in Ji Province, it was unsuitable to expose their movements too hastily, and it was better to avoid going right by Dong’e City without making a stop.
Though Xue Shi received Liu Hong’s commendation for the title of Ting Marquis, thanks to Cheng Li’s strategy, after they heard the news, they would likely soon announce to the people of Dong’e that they didn’t genuinely support the Yellow Turbans. Yet rather than letting Xue Shi take that good-guy role, it’s better for them to perform an “opulent return” on their way to Luoyang.
Once Cheng Li departed, the remaining gossip in Dong’e would probably sum up to this:
Cheng Li and Xue Shi pretended to side with Liang Zhongning’s Yellow Turbans, assisting Wang Shi in quelling rebellion in Yanzhou. Xue Shi exerted significant effort, earning recognition as a Ting Marquis, while Cheng Li strategized and garnered the admiration of Leping’s County Marquis, taking him on as his second-in-command.
This sort of rumor would surely have a far greater spread than Cheng Li’s earlier claim that “foolish commoners cannot cooperate.”
At that point, the county folk wouldn’t see him as someone ashamed to be associated with them, which led him to overlook entirely important matters and subsequently leave.
Quite the opposite, he didn’t want other local communities to be entangled in life-and-death matters while he sacrificed himself for the stability of Yanzhou.
Fortunately, in the end, he gained the recognition of a high-profile individual and found fertile ground to showcase his abilities.
This transition from being talented yet arrogant to a tale of someone daring to take risks during a crisis and ultimately achieving something worthwhile.
Though Qiao Yan explained this simple matter to Cheng Li, she knew full well he was astute enough not to miss the subtext.
He felt a warmth from her thoughtfulness but replied only, “What’s wrong with bearing this reputation?”
“Since we are to travel far, we might as well leave no regrets,” Qiao Yan responded.
Not to mention, who knows if there’ll be a chance to return to Yanzhou later?
For now, it’s merely a footnote in terms of reputation, and in the grand scheme of things, it requires less effort than it might seem, but it could prove significant down the line…
Of course, she wouldn’t share any of this with anyone else. Furthermore, on this journey to Luoyang, they were accompanied by Huangfu Song, who had just been promoted from Middle General to General of the Chariots and Cavalry. There were simply some matters not suited for his ears.
This time, while Huangfu Song led the group, it wasn’t as strict as previous military outings, and they progressed at a notably slower pace.
After passing through Dong’e and reaching Puyang, Huangfu Song even allowed Qiao Yan some time for a visit to the county office in Puyang.
Previously, Huangfu Song’s reserve troops were engaged in the campaign to reclaim Yanzhou, and Liang Zhongning’s remaining Yellow Turban forces in Puyang had already been completely wiped out.
While Liu Hong’s orders were directly centralized, Yanzhou would await the arrival of subsequent administrators before individually passing judgment on those remaining.
As Qiao Yan was now the County Marquis of Leping, it wasn’t appropriate for her to overstep her boundaries.
Thus, her visit held no intention to account for any favors but rather to collect certain items.
These included records from when she presided over spring plowing in Puyang and interacted with veteran farmers among the Yellow Turbans.
However, as she instructed her team to remove the boxes of books from the house and load them onto their carriages, she received a rather special visitor.
This person’s arrival wasn’t surprising; it was none other than Tian Tao, the head of the Tian family.
And he wasn’t alone.
Qiao Yan quickly noticed the vehicle trailing behind him, laden with dozens of bolts of silk.
“What brings you here, Master Tian?” Qiao Yan inquired.
Tian Tao bowed and said, “This is a token of gratitude from the Tian family to Lady Qiao.”
Qiao Yan and her companions hadn’t delayed much since leaving Quzhou, so Tian Tao must have learned of Tian Yan being granted the title of Ting Marquis only half a day prior.
After hearing from Tian Yan how he secured this marquis position, he couldn’t help but feel a bit apprehensive.
This Ting Marquis position could certainly compensate for all previous losses the Tian family endured and would have an irreplaceable impact on their future influence.
But during the day at Changshe, if a stray arrow had struck Tian Yan, he could have lost all possibility of returning!
This position was truly one earned at the cost of one’s life!
And yet his son, upon returning home, seemed to have completely forgotten that he was just a step away from death, instead fully absorbed in thoughts of celebrating his victorious return and bringing honor to the family.
This discussion naturally led to thanking Qiao Yan.
Gratitude must certainly be expressed; regardless of the Tian family’s fortune, the brothers, being fairly shrewd, recognized that upon hearing Qiao Yan, just such a young age could attain the role of County Marquis, they understood she was a person worth cultivating good relationships with.
However, this was due to Tian Tao’s position as head of the family, but as a father…
Qiao Yan looked at the items on the cart and asked, “Sixty bolts of silk and twenty jin of gold; I have yet to formally apologize for the previous losses your family incurred, and now you’ve instead offered such generous gifts. Isn’t this a little inappropriate?”
Even if the “jin” of the Eastern Han differs from the modern equivalent, it still needs to be halved in calculation, reducing those twenty jin of gold to about just five kilograms in modern weight, which doesn’t compare to the massive rewards often given in hundreds of jin.
As for sixty bolts of silk, that’s barely a load for a wealthy family, and the Tian family surely had far more than just the contents of one fort.
But bringing up this quantity without mentioning buying power is merely fooling around.
Considering Qiao Yan’s exposure to grain prices and how silk and gold correspond to the Han cash, this roughly equates to an amount capable of purchasing about 300 tons of rice based on modern measurements.
That’s definitely not chump change!
But she had to accept this money.
Because the head of the Tian family clearly had other implications in mind when he presented this gift.
If it were merely a token of gratitude for Qiao Yan, with the journey ahead still lengthy, the best way to thank her would have been to give gold, equating to everything, yet Tian Tao chose otherwise.
What did this suggest?
This was a redemption for lives!
The redemption enabling one to escape the death penalty, recorded since the year twenty-nine of Guangwu’s reign, differs from its Western Han origins; instead of paying in gold, one now redeems lives with silk or military service.
The previous year’s decree had established a price for redemption with silk: twenty bolts per person.
Thus, the three from the Tian family are precisely worth those sixty bolts.
In the sincere gaze Tian Tao revealed as he bowed to her, there was a distinct implication that while she had conferred a great favor upon the Tian family, there should be no further reckless invitations for life-risking errands.
Qiao Yan couldn’t help but be amused by Tian Tao’s roundabout way of saying, “Stay away from our kids!”
However, it was clear Tian Yan completely misunderstood his father’s intentions.
He even went so far as to trade out the silk for gold, making it more convenient to carry while saying, “If Lady Qiao ever comes back to Yanzhou, don’t hesitate to command me; I’ll risk my life to comply,” completely undermining his father’s carefully crafted arrangement.
After leaving the sight of those two, Qiao Yan exchanged a smile with Cheng Li. “Those two really don’t resemble each other much, do they?”
“So, does Lady Qiao prefer the shrewder one or the naïve one?” Cheng Li asked.
“I prefer the one who brings money,” Qiao Yan replied thoughtfully.
Despite Leping being fertile land for agriculture, it couldn’t change last year’s drought, which hit indiscriminately.
With two mountains framing a basin and a river flowing through, even before the “flip of fortune” realization, there wasn’t a way to ensure total irrigation, and local yields were bound to plummet.
As the newly minted County Marquis of Leping, Qiao Yan certainly couldn’t indulge in depleting resources recklessly.
No matter how much she desired to make a mark on her territory, she had to abide by some basic principles, thus the thank-you gift from Tian Tao could be seen as her initial capital.
So, she wasn’t bothered whether the other side was trying to cut off some correlation; as long as the money came, that was all that mattered.
Cheng Li shook his head with a chuckle, but in his heart, he raised his evaluation of Qiao Yan another level.
Someone who thinks pragmatically is indeed far more suited for higher positions than someone swayed by emotional ties.
And with that, the matter was brushed over.
Throughout their journey westwards, they kept the discussion surrounding this incident to a minimum.
After passing Puyang and Yanjian, Xu Fu followed through on his earlier promise made to Qiao Yan when they departed from Quzhou — he headed south to Yingchuan to visit his mother, intending to share his plans with her, and after everything was arranged, he would reunite with Qiao Yan.
Not knowing how much time Qiao Yan’s visit to Luoyang would require, nor Xu Fu’s round trip to Yingchuan, they agreed that he wouldn’t need to come to Luoyang and could head directly to Leping instead.
The same goes for Leping; it won’t be going anywhere.
Once Xu Fu was sent off, the remainder of their group continued along the northern banks of the Yellow River, passed through Yuanwu and Juancheng, found a boat to cross the Yellow River, and eventually arrived at Aocang.
After they reached here, all that lay ahead was Chengao.
During the Sui Dynasty, Chengao was renamed Zishui, but today it is still referred to as Hulao Pass because King Mu of Zhou once captured a tiger here.
Hulao Pass, although not one of the eight passes of Luoyang, holds a status not lacking in comparison.
It’s seen as a strategic location due to its unique terrain, linking Mount Song to the south and the Yellow River to the north, framed by mountains.
Moreover, the three heroes battling Lü Bu in “Romance of the Three Kingdoms” took place right here.
“Wow, talk about some grand gates!”
As Qiao Yan accompanied General Huangfu Song to the gate, she couldn’t help but glance up at the impressive structure, feeling like she was inching closer to a key area.
Ever since the Yellow Turban Rebellion, the defenses here had tightened, ready to stop any mischief-makers from busting through and causing major havoc. Thankfully, the chaos from the Yellow Turbans had always been kept outside the gates, so the beefed-up security had yet to break a sweat.
Of course, how increased security impacted them was a different story. The guards at the gate weren’t likely to be mistaken about the folks trying to enter.
You see, just before this, Bi Lan and the others had taken this very path when they left Luoyang to deliver an edict, and Huangfu Song was pretty much their fan club president!
With Bi Lan and the gang returning, along with General Huangfu leading the charge back, it was clear this was a victory parade.
They promptly swung open the Hulao Pass.
The hefty gates creaked open before Qiao Yan, and once her group stepped through, they slammed shut with a thunderous echo that bounced off the mountains.
Qiao Yan took a final glance back at the Hulao Pass, her eyes dancing with thoughts that no one could quite guess.
At least Bi Lan, who had been chatting with her right before entering, was totally in the dark, considering this was likely a sentimental moment for her.
That fleeting look of ponder left her unaffected as she launched into a discussion about the epic battles that had taken place at Hulao Pass.
Like when Han Korea used Hulao to invade and wipe out Zheng Kingdom, or how King Zhuangxiang of Qin sent Meng Tian to take Han, forcing them to surrender Hulao, allowing Qin to set up camp there against the six nations.
She wasn’t speaking too loud, so to Yuan Shao tagging along, it sounded more like Qiao Yan was sharing some deep secrets with the eunuchs in the capital, putting him in a trance.
Looking at this, Chunyu Qiong’s past judgment of her position didn’t seem that far-fetched.
Landing a County Marquis title and acting all chummy was just…
Totally ridiculous!
Now, speaking of ranks, Yuan Shao may just be a cadet son, but having been adopted by the Yuan Cheng branch, he’s half a legit son in terms of status. Plus, his tall, imposing figure caught the favor of Yuan Feng and Yuan Wei, making him the top dog in the vicinity.
But Qiao Yan, she chose to ignore Yuan Shao entirely, preferring to chat with those guys. Can you imagine how that made Yuan Shao feel?
He also noticed that Qiao Yan didn’t reject Bi Lan’s suggestion to travel by both land and river after passing Hulao, flowing along the Luo River. It just meant less backache from mountain riding!
But Yuan Shao had no clue that Qiao Yan was not merely playing games for appearances. Bi Lan was, after all, more important for her to converse with than Zhang Rang and Yuan Shao.
Chunyu Qiong had looked down on Bi Lan for his quirky tricks, but fast forward two years to the third year of Zhongping, and guess what? Bi Lan would be getting roped into overseeing a transport project ordered by Liu Hong.
Back then, it’d be about Liu Hong wanting to see rivers pouring down the roads, but the impact that project had on agriculture later on clearly made it no joke!
Building a good rapport with Bi Lan—who was more of an inventor than a eunuch—was a win-win for Qiao Yan.
After all, she knew the name “transport project” but couldn’t quite visualize how it was put together, like sketching a map by hand.
As for Yuan Shao…
If Qiao Yan had been a man, she’d totally need to cozy up to him. Harnessing the Yuan family’s reputation to boost her visibility, or using Yuan Shao’s social circle to meet capable folks of the late Han era would have been much easier than going solo.
But as a woman holding a County Marquis title, she was there not because of the Yuan family’s support, but because of Liu Hong’s decision.
So, she had to be careful about her distance with those noble families.
For Liu Hong, having eunuchs without heirs fully dependent on him was undoubtedly a reliable setup, even making them scapegoats when needed.
That’s why, during the Yellow Turban Rebellion, there were those who wrote up grievances against the Ten Eunuchs, and Liu Hong just pocketed some assets from that chaos.
Thus, Qiao Yan could show them some proper kindness at this moment.
Bi Lan had no idea about the tangled feelings in Qiao Yan’s heart. To him, this newly titled County Marquis was a breeze compared to the elite families.
She’d spoken so confidently about Hulao’s history earlier, but now as they floated down the Luo River, she admitted her limited knowledge about Luoyang—having only visited as a child before settling down in Liang Kingdom; she needed a bit more insight from Bi Lan.
Feeling quite valued, Bi Lan couldn’t help but chat a little too much.
Diving into this joyous conversation, as their boat passed Gongxian and Yanshi, they were nearing the border where the Luo and Yi rivers met, and Qiao Yan could already see some houses on the outskirts of Luoyang.
But those outskirts were mostly agricultural and sacrificial lands, with most residences being in the urban area.
Han Luoyang was a pretty unique city compared to future capitals.
In fact, cities during the Qin and Han dynasties shared this trait.
There were no city walls around the urban area; they relied on rivers, canals, and mountains to define their boundaries.
And then you had the outer areas for suburbs and fields.
The boat passed over a floating bridge on the Luo River, and Bi Lan noticed Qiao Yan looking north, so he decided to stop the boat and clarify things for her.
“Luoyang’s southern wall is bordered by the Luo River. If defenses are needed, they’re set up at the floating bridge,” Bi Lan explained and gave a nod to the guards on the bridge before continuing, “South of the floating bridge is Luoyang’s southern suburb where the altar for the red emperor’s worship lies. And north of it—”
Following Bi Lan’s gesture, Qiao Yan saw a particularly conspicuous square high platform on the northern bank and heard Bi Lan say, “That’s Lingtai, where the Grand Historian does his stargazing and record-keeping.”
Earlier while on the river, Bi Lan had mentioned that, aside from those who had received rewards for quelling the disturbances in Ji Province, the Son of Heaven had also made a special decision.
He appointed Yuan Wei’s wife from the Ma clan of Fufeng to the position of Grand Historian.
So, Lingtai would be her office!
Regarding this unexpected shift in historical changes, Qiao Yan didn’t feel out of her depth or panicked.
On the contrary, if she couldn’t make some changes due to her involvement in the Yellow Turban Rebellion, she’d seriously question her significance!
And having Lady Ma as Grand Historian was definitely something Qiao Yan found quite pleasant.
Bi Lan added, “Opposite Lingtai are the Hall of Enlightenment and Biyong.”
“That’s for sacrifices. My father mentioned it before,” Qiao Yan replied.
“Right, it’s essentially a place for sacrifices, enfeoffments, and inspections,” Bi Lan explained, “and behind Biyong is the Imperial Academy.”
No matter how influential Liu Hong’s Hongdu Gate Academy became through the Son of Heaven’s support, it could never dethrone the Imperial Academy from its prestigious status as the place the world’s scholars yearned for.
Therefore, the southern wall of this palace city was crucial for Luoyang.
Within the southern wall spanning six li east and west, and four li north and south, you’d find sites for sacrifices, stargazing, and places of study. Even the southern market is known as the Music and Rhythm Block, with tales of people inside singing and playing instruments. Clearly, it was a cultural hub of Luoyang.
Right by the banks of the Luo River was scattered a few modest residences.
But those homes were risky; if the Luo River swelled, they could face potential flooding and destruction.
And what about the eastern suburb?
With the Yang Canal marking its boundary, aside from the Xuanping Gate connecting to the officials’ meeting hall, the eastern side had protective barriers, while the remaining eastern suburb was a residential area.
The eastern market was known for “trade and commerce,” where most traveling merchants also resided, linked to both the East Gate horse market and a spot called Shangshangli below Mount Mang to the north.
Naturally, the closer you got to the palace, the higher the status of the residents.
But Qiao Xuan did not live there.
As Bi Lan mentioned, outside the Guangyang Gate was the Luoyang grand market, stretching from Zhangfanggou to the east, south facing the Luo River and north reaching the range of Mount Mang, spanning two li in width and fifteen li in depth—this area housed royal kin, affectionately referred to as Prince’s Block by the locals.
Beyond the Prince’s Block to the west was where the higher officials resided.
Though Qiao Xuan lived a frugal official life, he had been a loyal minister to the Great Han. A few years ago, when he stepped down for some rest, Liu Hong offered him a place in the western suburb, claiming the noise from the east market was not conducive to his recovery.
However, the living conditions exceeded what Liu Hong had anticipated, feeling somewhat out of place among the surrounding opulence.
Luoyang’s market areas emerged alongside the walls, with the eastern suburb connecting to the horse market, while the western suburb led to the city’s gold market, where ordinary folks hardly ever set foot.
When Bi Lan mentioned this, a hint of pride slipped into his tone.
Thanks to Liu Hong’s favor, his residence outside the palace was in this area. Though it rarely saw much use, being near the Prince’s Block was quite the honor in his eyes.
Qiao Yan didn’t interrupt his boasting; instead, when they docked the boat beneath Walnut Palace, she listened to Bi Lan describe the area while checking out the once-celebrated Luoyang, now mostly leaning towards ruins.
Crossing from Walnut Palace led them into a cluster of courtyard walls within various blocks.
Among them stood some standout structures, like the princess platform built by the notorious Liang Ji during the reign of Emperor Shun and Emperor Zhi of Han, which apparently reached over five zhang high during the Northern and Southern Dynasties. Now, to Qiao Yan’s eyes, it looked to be at least seven or eight zhang tall, practically a freak in the city.
Ever since Emperor Huan executed this toxic branch family, twenty-five years had passed, yet Liang Ji’s influence still lingered. For instance, the Xianyang Garden just north of the Prince’s Block was a remnant of Liang Ji’s past.
But even with all his murderous plots and his unyielding stance against the emperor, Liu Hong still held a strong reliance on these noble clans, granting them quite a bit of authority.
Just as Qiao Yan was wrapping her head around this, she suddenly heard Bi Lan adopt a more serious tone: “Since you’ve just arrived in Luoyang, you’ll need to follow the local rules. You should know that Luoyang is different from other places, with its walls and gates closed off; no doors open onto the streets, and at night all gates are locked. You mustn’t wander outside at night.”
It was a stark contrast to future eras when night markets thrived, that’s for sure.
But Bi Lan was right; since she was here, she had to abide by the local customs.
In Luoyang, right under the Son of Heaven’s feet, a thrown stone might hit two royal relatives; her title as County Marquis wouldn’t ensure her safety.
Bi Lan’s note of caution clearly showed he was looking out for her, and Qiao Yan didn’t reject his goodwill; she nodded earnestly.
“As long as you’re aware, let’s go,” Bi Lan, knowing most of the neighbors’ statuses, naturally also knew where Qiao Xuan’s residence was located.
He guided Qiao Yan through several streets.
Perhaps due to his repeated visits, Bi Lan showed no hesitation while leading her into a block called “Yanxi.”
Upon reaching the entrance, the guard hesitated for a moment as he noticed Dian Wei trailing behind Qiao Yan.
You see, Yanxi was the home of high-ranking officials and nobles; even the security personnel were supposed to be dressed well and composed, not like they had just come from an outdoor slaughterhouse.
But Bi Lan recognized Dian Wei. Since the esteemed Bi Changshi was okay with bringing him in, there was really nothing more to say.
In Yanxi, no one lived like Han Emperor An’s wet nurse, stomping her foot and monopolizing two blocks. Judging by Qiao Yan’s observations, the residences here were pretty limited, with a total of nine households, and Qiao Xuan’s was the smallest.
As Bi Lan knocked on the door, Qiao Yan glanced at the plaque above, not surprised to see the red paint flaking off. When the guardian opened the door, the inner courtyard revealed a surprisingly desolate sight.
Despite it being summer, one particularly large tree was leaning sloppily against the neighboring wall, its leaves showing a rather unhealthy hue.
If the plants looked like that, you could bet the humans did too.
The gatekeeper, much older, stood still, and as they announced their names to enter the inner courtyard, all that could be heard were their footsteps, the rustle of leaves, and—
Qiao Yan suddenly caught a glimpse of something unusual and looked up at the courtyard wall.
At that moment, she spotted a cute little girl, about four or five, peeking over the wall at her. Upon meeting her gaze, the girl grinned rather innocently and disappeared behind the wall.
“Who was that?” Qiao Yan asked, pointing.
After pondering a moment, Bi Lan replied, “That’s the daughter of a servant from the Notchy Marquis, goes by the name ‘Shou.’”
So, a servant’s daughter… Shou?
Fu Shou?
