“Can a strategist not ascend the throne?”
Before kicking the bucket, maybe this old man had some last-minute clarity.
He wasn’t naive enough to think that the Qiao Yan in front of him was still the little granddaughter he remembered.
One of his sons had already bit the dust maintaining peace in Luoyang.
The other son had zero support in the officialdom, as if he didn’t even have a father who was one of the Three Dukes, just grinding through the ranks the old-fashioned way.
But that didn’t mean Qiao Xuan was flying blind when it came to his son and granddaughter.
He was the one who named his granddaughter Qiao Yan, after all.
During the little time Qiao Yan spent in Luoyang, she was just a babbling toddler.
Back then, Qiao Xuan imagined what the kid would grow up to be and worried about her frail health.
Later, when Qiao Yu took up the position in Rencheng, Qiao Yan never came back here, but Qiao Xuan kept in touch with his son through letters.
His son wasn’t as decisive as he was, and he didn’t have any of those underhanded tactics; just managing to hold the silver seal and blue ribbon was already impressive. As for his granddaughter, though she was well-versed in literature, she wasn’t a prodigy.
In his eyes, there was really no regret; everyone has their fate, and living a stable life in Yanzhou wasn’t a bad way to survive.
It’s because of this mindset that when Qiao Xuan learned about Qiao Yan’s achievements and her title as County Marquis, his first response after regaining consciousness wasn’t overwhelming joy for the Qiao family; it was more of a resigned feeling of “well, I suppose this was bound to happen.”
After all, this was a transformation that couldn’t be explained simply by being called to duty in a crisis or heroes rising through adversity.
One’s actions are influenced largely by the education they received and the environment they reside in.
Given that understanding, he certainly didn’t believe that this Qiao Yan was the same as that one.
Prior to this, his little granddaughter hadn’t shown any political acumen. So how could she suddenly display such seasoned competence amidst the various negotiations?
Qiao Xuan wasn’t afraid to think the worst.
It was hard to say if he had prepared himself for terrible news during the worsening of his illness over these past months.
The whispers of the Yellow Turban Rebellion had reached his ears, alongside the chaotic atmosphere in the city of Luoyang, and he knew that Qiao Yu might be delayed on the journey.
But when he estimated the time Qiao Yu left Rencheng, he couldn’t help but think that he probably wasn’t heading back to stabilize the situation as he had written in his previous letter.
Instead, it seemed he had run into some trouble on the road.
What could cause the current Qiao Yan to fight her way through the chaos of the Yellow Turbans?
Maybe there was only one explanation: Qiao Yu was no longer among the living.
But in this peculiar moment of clarity and newfound strength, Qiao Xuan knew that his time was up, so why waste time on futile lamentations?
At this moment, he didn’t need to weep over his son’s death.
Nor did he need to think about whether his earlier attempts at impressing Liu Hong to pave a future for his descendants were now moot.
And certainly, he didn’t need to probe into who had now replaced his granddaughter’s position.
As he opened the door, soaking in the sunlight like an old acquaintance, he saw the current child named Qiao Yan crouching by his vegetable patch.
Before his eyes, the new sprouts were lush and green—a scene bursting with life.
Yes, with the Yellow Turban Rebellion, the battle against Zhang Jiao, Qiao Yu commanding troops in Quzhou, and discussions in Luoyang; if you overlook any constraints she might face, she seemed like she was growing up to be a pillar among the loyal subjects of the Han.
He instinctively blurted out something, and the wary look that flashed across her face confirmed for him that her earlier success couldn’t have been mere luck—
She truly had a sharp mind.
So why would Qiao Xuan need to brand her with the name of “grandfather suspecting her of being possessed” here?
Thus, Qiao Yan’s defenses only lasted a moment before she heard Qiao Xuan say, “You still haven’t answered my question; can governing a county really be as simple as growing vegetables?”
She met Qiao Xuan’s clear, accommodating gaze, and in this unspoken understanding, she began to grasp his stance.
This old man, now without family to rely on, just wanted to impart some hope.
Even though she felt no special kinship towards him, she couldn’t quite shake the pang in her heart at that moment.
“Governing a country is like cooking a small fish; managing a county is much the same; familiarity breeds skill, and things must be just right. There’s really a whole process of trial and error,” Qiao Yan thoughtfully replied. “A beginner wouldn’t throw themselves into intense flames; that would burn their hand. Am I not doing just that?”
She gestured toward the vegetable patch. “Mustard greens are easy to grow and don’t require much farming knowledge to keep alive; even if I mess up, it won’t be a disaster. Before planting, I’ve already plowed and enriched the soil, and I’ve consulted extensively on what mustard greens need to thrive. The odds of success are high, and next time, I can try to expand and enhance yields.”
Hearing her words, a hint of a smile surfaced on Qiao Xuan’s expression, which had grown a bit stiff from his illness.
She had a point; just like how growing vegetables was somewhat foreign to her, running a county was also a new challenge.
But since mustard sprouts are easy to grow and losses would be minimal with adequate preparation, why couldn’t she start small in governing lands and gain experience over time?
For someone who could quickly grasp various perspectives upon reaching Luoyang, this learning curve was definitely not beyond her.
Qiao Xuan looked at her with more warmth and tenderness from an elder.
His time was short, and given her exceptional character and skills, why not provide her a bit more support?
From Cheng Li and the old servant of the Qiao family’s position, they couldn’t catch the specifics of the conversation between the grandfather and granddaughter; they mostly heard Qiao Xuan speaking while Qiao Yan listened.
This old man, who could still hold a continuous conversation, gradually started to sound fragmentary. Among the bits of dialogue carried by the wind, he seemed to mention Suiyang, then moved to Hanyang, then to Wuyuan’s borders, and then finally to Luoyang…
The old servant, who had been quiet since Qiao Yan and the others arrived, suddenly spoke up, “This… this is Qiao Gong’s path to promotion.”
Cheng Li turned to look at him, only to find him wiping away tears from the corners of his eyes with his sleeve.
This old servant evidently recognized that Qiao Xuan’s current situation was the passing of a life.
And for a renowned minister who had served in high ranks and was both cultured and martial, what could be more valuable than everything he’d experienced?
Even back when he was a minor official in Suiyang, chasing after the accusations against the minister of Chen, he had acted rather rashly due to his youth and inexperience.
Now, looking back at that period from a more mature standpoint, deconstructing his mental state at that time was undoubtedly valuable experience.
These weren’t things he would share with just anyone.
Now, sitting in the small courtyard with his granddaughter, gazing at the fresh green vegetable patch, he condensed all his thoughts and wishes into straightforward dialogue.
As the sun began to set, Qiao Xuan’s voice gradually turned softer and more fragile.
Qiao Yan leaned closer to his side, just in time to hear him ask, “Can you promise me one thing?”
Qiao Yan moved closer, allowing him to take her hand in the process.
This brought their faces even nearer.
On his frail frame, a sharp aura flickered in his eyes, which soon turned into a nearly earnest expression.
Qiao Yan was momentarily taken aback, then grasped his hand, now slowly losing warmth, and replied, “I promise you.”
Once Qiao Xuan received the response, he finally relaxed his grip.
Now he truly could hold on no longer.
During his illness, hardly anyone visited this simple little courtyard, except for Liu Hong, who had made a special trip to confirm the rewards for Qiao Yan. As he was approaching his final day, everything felt especially quiet.
Only Qiao Yan kept vigil at his bedside through the night.
As that final clarity faded, she, along with the family servant, transferred him back to the bed inside.
Perhaps it was because of Qiao Yan’s promise, or perhaps in that moment of unfocused spirit, he heard Qiao Yan slowly recounting the lessons she had learned from his past experiences, gently whispering them in his ear, granting him a sense of satisfaction knowing this heritage would continue as he departed.
He vaguely recalled a comment he had made about a promising young subordinate many years ago, “When the world descends into chaos, only a talented person can save it.”
But maybe, the child taking his granddaughter’s place was also one of those destined talents.
It was just a pity he wouldn’t get to witness that peaceful world himself.
When dawn broke, he lay on the bed, breathless.
This was the sixth day of the sixth lunar month in the year of Guanghe Seven.
According to Liu Hong’s earlier promise to Qiao Yan, Qiao Xuan was to be buried with the grand honors of a Grand Commandant, and Liang Hu, Cai Yong, and others were to compose his epitaph.
He was miserly to an extraordinary degree, yet that didn’t mean he would break a promise on matters he had already committed to.
Especially since Qiao Yan had clearly demonstrated that she was someone who deserved careful consideration, making it even less likely he would skimp on such an important matter.
When he learned that the money Qiao Xuan had accumulated over the years wasn’t enough for a proper funeral ceremony, needing Qiao Yan to tap into her recent rewards from the Yanzhou gentry to fund it, he sent a lavish gift as well.
To be precise, it wasn’t just any gift.
Liu Hong permitted the Imperial Attendant to oversee the funeral arrangements, and after the ceremony was completed, the Northern Army Five Divisions, light troops, and armored infantry would escort him to his final resting place.
Of course, the escort wouldn’t take Qiao Xuan all the way to Leping County.
But according to Eastern Han beliefs, as long as the coffin traveled north from Luoyang and crossed the borders of Mang Mountain, it was fine.
However, the escorting guards hadn’t been dispatched yet because the memorial ceremony would last at least ten days.
This ceremony was bound to be quite the affair.
Unlike the tranquility of Qiao Xuan’s courtyard at his passing, many people were sure to come to pay their respects after he was gone.
He was strong-willed and straightforward, but not entirely without flexibility. While he was alive, his former colleagues knew well what his temperament was like and mostly sent mere condolences instead of gifts to avoid ruffling his feathers.
But with him now deceased, everyone would surely pay their respects.
Additionally, according to customs in the Eastern Han, former officials were required to attend memorial services.
Even though Qiao Xuan lived until the ripe old age of seventy-four, surpassing the Han average life expectancy by twenty-five years, many former officials had already passed away before him. For instance, Chen Qiu, whom Qiao Xuan had recommended for the position of Grand Judicator when he served in the Three Dukes—died in the second year of Guanghe—but that didn’t change the fact that Qiao Xuan had held countless positions during his career and had never shied away from promoting talented individuals, leading to a considerable number of people he had supported.
Clearly, this little courtyard in Yanxi couldn’t accommodate so many guests.
Thus, Grand Historian Ma Lun immediately suggested using Lingtai as the venue for the memorial service.
In her memorial notes to Liu Hong, she wrote: “Qiao Gong’s noble virtue and high status are vast and accommodating; he deserves a grand farewell to show imperial grace. This reflects the relationship of the emperor and his ministers. The Hall of Enlightenment handles imperial rites, and Lingtai is adjacent to it, aligning with heaven’s will and seeing the Luo River; it is fitting.”
Ma Lun’s message was crystal clear: Qiao Xuan’s residence in Luoyang was far too simple, and based on his noble repute, it was inappropriate to hold the memorial service in such cramped quarters.
Were there places in Luoyang that could accommodate the crowd? Sure, there were.
For instance, the Yuan Clan could rent out such a venue.
But once that rental occurred, it would involve a web of personal favors.
Rather than go through that, it’d be preferable for Liu Hong to issue a decree for Lingtai to be used.
Right across from Lingtai was the Hall of Enlightenment, responsible for the rituals of the Han dynasty, corresponding with Qiao Xuan’s esteemed reputation while in office. If recorded in future histories, it would represent a beautiful legacy of the bond between emperor and minister.
What a brilliant suggestion!
If Liu Hong hadn’t given much thought to this relatively inexperienced Grand Historian before, now that she had suggested this from the standpoint of the Han dynasty, he couldn’t help but have a clearer recognition of her.
She truly was a woman of capability and foresight.
After approving the decision, Qiao Xuan’s body was hastily transported from Yanxi to Lingtai during the night.
This was also the first time Qiao Yan met this official who had risen almost concurrently with her elevation to nobility.
Ma Lun wasn’t young anymore; she had already passed sixty this year.
However, being from the affluent Ma clan, her upbringing had been privileged, laying an exquisite foundation, and even after marrying Yuan Wei and managing the household, she hadn’t neglected her health.
When Qiao Yan saw her, the elder appeared dignified and refined, her head of silver hair neatly arranged, exuding a reassuring calmness, showing no signs of frailty.
Suddenly promoted from the matriarch of her household to Grand Historian, she clearly wasn’t thrown into disarray.
In her early years, she had studied astronomy and calendars with her father, Ma Ru, working with his disciples to analyze astrological data. After marrying into the Yuan family, though preoccupied with household duties, she seized the opportunity to immerse herself in broader literary collections.
When this unexpected yet suitable authority was handed to her, she regarded Yuan Wei’s frustrations as nothing serious and immediately set about her business.
Although she didn’t know what led Liu Hong to make such a decision—one that left Yuan Wei with a belly full of indignation, unable to refute this “imperial edict”—once she established her footing as Grand Historian over this month, Ma Lun was astute enough to recognize the power struggles amidst the swift currents.
Luckily, for her, being freed from the constraints of the inner courtyard when she already felt somewhat fatigued was not a bad turn of events.
This even injected a burst of vigor into her.
And when she met Qiao Yan, their short exchange made her understand why Liu Hong had insisted on granting her a title of nobility.
She arrived that night.
Ma Lun was greeted by the subordinates of the Grand Historian with lanterns, spotting the mourning-clad girl pacing before the coffin.
The girl saluted her, addressing her as “Grand Historian,” and in the flicker of candlelight and moonlight, a hint of melancholy mingled with the lingering spirit of fierce determination.
This distinguished demeanor made Ma Lun feel there were few, over the past few decades of observing young talents in Luoyang, who could surpass her at this age.
Lingtai, towering over five zhang in the records of the Northern and Southern Dynasties, still stood at six zhang high today, roughly about fourteen meters.
To Qiao Yan, while Lingtai was a celestial observatory, because the astronomical edicts and the dominance of the Han dynasty intertwined, the significance there felt epic and profound.
“That’s more relevant, in terms of architectural style, to buildings serving a sacrificial function.”
The lower-level gallery highlighted the upper platform, giving it an extra layer of mysterious solemnity under the night sky.
Qiao Yan and Ma Lun ascended the high platform, just as they saw two rows of distinct official offices at the Astronomical Observatory.
This location was temporarily going to serve as a mourning place for Qiao Xuan. The five offices on the left were set aside for the wake and resting spots for guests, while the other five continued to serve as the Grand Historian’s office.
“I apologize for troubling you these days, and thank you, Grand Historian, for securing a mourning place for my grandfather.”
After Qiao Xuan’s coffin was settled, Qiao Yan thanked Ma Lun once again.
As Ma Lun helped her to her feet, she replied, “Lord Qiao is a pillar of the Han Dynasty; a mourning place certainly cannot be overlooked. From the Astronomical Observatory, one observes the sun, moon, and the Big Dipper, and it records the glory of the Han dynasty perfectly aligned with your exceptional talent and virtue.”
Having finished the pleasantries, she straightened her face and said, “However, as Grand Historian, I must mention to Lord Qiao beforehand that these five offices are indeed the Grand Historian’s backup space; it’s fine to use them, but the other five contain records of celestial phenomena and important astronomical instruments from recent years. Please ensure to gain permission before entering those.”
That was a principle she wouldn’t breach, no matter how much she admired Qiao Yan’s poise.
Qiao Yan, understanding the caution, certainly did not take it as an offense.
She nodded, “That makes sense. I’ve heard that when Zhang Pingzi was the Grand Historian, the seismograph he made was kept here. That’s a precise instrument that has its own rules for storage.”
Hearing Qiao Yan mention Zhang Pingzi, also known as Zhang Heng, Ma Lun’s impression of her improved further.
During Empress Dowager Deng Sui’s reign, Zhang Heng was brought to the capital given his talents, first appointed as a physician and later as Grand Historian; the armillary sphere was a product of this period.
Eventually, the seismograph came along.
Even though the seismograph wouldn’t react to vibrations from vehicles, only earthquakes would make the metal frog spit out pellets, Ma Lun discovered that the device operated based on the loose foundation of the Astronomical Observatory, translating vibrations and determining the impact through Zhang Heng’s observations over the years, thus should never be moved under normal circumstances.
Since Qiao Yan had some knowledge of this, it spared her a lot of explanations.
Seeing her act prudently, Ma Lun softened her tone, saying, “If Lord Qiao is interested, observing from afar is certainly fine.”
Qiao Yan shook her head, “Let’s settle the matters of receiving and sending guests first.”
Ma Lun intended to offer a few comforting words to this orphan girl, whose grandfather had just passed away, but suddenly heard her say, “There’s one more thing I’m audaciously hoping to mention to the Grand Historian.”
She looked up and continued, “Years ago, when Empress Dowager He Xi selected the virtuous, it was Zhang Pingzi who was here interpreting the spiritual principles, and the armillary sphere and seismograph were set here. I was not in the capital before and have longed to see the Astronomical Observatory, this meeting is quite a coincidence. And seeing that Madam Ma is Grand Historian, I feel even more delighted. However, since my grandfather has just passed, I should not appear overly joyful, I hope the Grand Historian understands.”
Ma Lun was taken aback.
Empress Dowager He Xi?
Why did she suddenly bring that up?
But then Ma Lun thought again and felt Qiao Yan’s words were not inappropriate.
Indeed, without Empress Dowager He Xi, the Astronomical Observatory would be nothing more than an astronomical platform from the Guangwu era; how could the armillary sphere and seismograph be established here?
Zhang Pingzi had once criticized the government in his work “Two Capitals Ode,” yet he was moved by Empress Dowager He Xi’s light taxation and personal frugality and accepted the invitation to come.
Empress Dowager He Xi herself excelled in calculations and astronomy and provided education to women; perhaps she was also anticipating one day to see a woman studying the heavens at this observatory.
And now it had come true.
But even now, Ma Lun could no longer speculate about what that extraordinary woman, who had long since passed, was thinking back then, nor could she fathom what Qiao Yan meant at this moment.
For this particularly articulate girl, after saying that, turned around and walked toward the temporary resting house, glancing back at her cautiously just as she leaned against the door.
Seeing her face showed no distress, she finally disappeared behind the door.
It was as if this girl felt she had said something inappropriate for a first meeting, worried she might offend her.
But how could Ma Lun feel offended?
Ma Lun touched her slightly chilly face in the night breeze, realizing she had a smile due to Qiao Yan’s remark.
This made Qiao Yan, when she saw her the next day, notice that Ma Lun’s official robe was bright red, accentuating her energetic demeanor.
This state of mind allowed her to assist Qiao Yan in hosting the guests coming to pay their respects after arranging duties for the officials at the Astronomical Observatory.
At the Yuan Clan’s mansion, the number of visitors each day was no small count, and Ma Lun was naturally well aware of every level of official in Luoyang.
Qiao Yan felt she ought to express her deep gratitude to Madam Ma.
After all, when Qiao Xuan mentioned his past, he wouldn’t elaborate on what those he had engaged with looked like, at most mentioning a few important names.
But Ma Lun’s situation was quite different.
One should know, even with the prestige of the four generations of the Yuan family, their noble status in Runan couldn’t escape the need for interpersonal relations in Luoyang to be navigated without purely using an upper-class attitude.
If one really did so, it would definitely be a grave mistake in the officialdom.
When Yuan Wei did not have the energy to remember every little thing, then let Ma Lun keep track.
Thus, the first batch to arrive at the Astronomical Observatory could nearly all be named by her.
Even if these officials didn’t think it inappropriate for a child recently bereaved of her elder to show a lack of courtesy, no one would scold her for it.
However, if she acted appropriately and addressed them properly, it would clearly elevate their impression of her.
Ma Lun did not think she was doing anything wrong by subtly guiding Qiao Yan; she even felt a strange sense of accomplishment from it.
At least it felt more fulfilling than when she concentrated solely on Yuan Wei.
And just as well, Qiao Yan’s amazing memory meant that once she connected the names and looks of these guests, Ma Lun didn’t have to reiterate anything.
This undoubtedly reduced the chances of this reminder being discovered.
Furthermore, Qiao Yan made it evident that aside from extending goodwill towards Liu Hong, she hadn’t firmly taken any sides.
This meant she did not need to harbor any emotional bias against the guests; she just needed to avoid making significant faux pas in words under Ma Lun’s reminders.
Perhaps the only moment Qiao Yan almost faltered was when Yuan Wei arrived.
He stared in Ma Lun’s direction for quite some time, seemingly seeing his old wife for the first time, as if his entire worldview had been reshaped.
So that when Qiao Yan greeted him, he almost snapped back to reality.
Qiao Yan made an effort to keep her face devoid of any trace of amusement, only to see Yuan Wei’s expression shift awkwardly as he turned to her.
Well, that makes sense.
He had only heard about the stir Qiao Yan caused since receiving the title of Marquis of Leping in the capital, and had yet to meet her formally; yet today, Yuan Wei was required to be present in this place.
Additionally, upon seeing her, he couldn’t help but recall the firm reprimand Liu Hong had delivered on the court.
And he could not clearly express any dissatisfaction towards this girl.
Realize, this was the place where Your Majesty approved for Qiao Xuan’s memorial.
Having served as officials in the same court in the past, even he had held great respect for Qiao Xuan; now that he had passed away, leaving this mere ten-year-old girl to uphold the Qiao family’s stature, he absolutely couldn’t “bully the weak”.
In fact, he ought to be the one showing goodwill.
Moreover…
Your Majesty had personally bestowed the Memorialist to hold the proceedings, and the Memorialist had arrived early.
Yuan Wei spotted the eight-foot bamboo pole crowned with a tassel’s tail in the crowd, a symbol of the emperor’s elevation of ranks to aid in the funeral and indirectly enhance Qiao Xuan’s status.
It was hard to say whether in Liu Hong’s notoriously enigmatic demeanor there was an expectation that this Memorialist would also bear responsibilities to supervise, just as he seemed to know answers from decades ago; people were doubtlessly observing their behaviors here.
If he were to catch any misdeeds, it could lead to trouble in the future.
Once Yuan Wei thought about it, he no longer focused on the fact that he was currently in his wife’s realm of command and completely forgot the previous embarrassment over the Marquis Qiao matter, and promptly returned Qiao Yan’s greeting.
Only, his demeanor appeared rather strained, like a forced grin.
In contrast, the Grand Commandant Yang Ci, although he had once opposed Liu Hong’s direct conferment of the marquis title, genuinely demonstrated a bit of heartfelt sorrow during this mourning process.
Qiao Yan watched the comings and goings of these people, gaining further understanding of the political landscape of the late Eastern Han.
Qiao Xuan’s decision to impart his wisdom to her, fully knowing she was not his original descendant, seemed far from incomprehensible.
Wang Fu-zhi once said, officials like Yuan Wei merely occupy their posts while truly lacking the sense of shame and duty.
This was indeed the portrait of most officials present today.
Meanwhile, those who took days to arrive from afar seemed to express more genuine feelings over Qiao Xuan’s death.
For example—
Cai Yong.
Famous for his Feibai Script and inscribing the Xiping Stone Classics, Cai Yong had journeyed from Wuhui.
When he received the news, he had already fallen behind everyone else by a few days; however, upon learning of the situation, he disregarded the banditry along the way and rushed straight to the capital, arriving even ahead of some.
Fortunately, due to his prior fallout with the eunuch powers causing him to seek refuge with the Yang family of Mount Tai, upon hearing he was heading to the capital for Qiao Xuan’s funeral, they immediately prepared a fast horse and retinue for him.
If not for that, Cai Yong might have feared to bring his daughter along on the journey to the capital.
Having fled from Shuo Fang and then from Wuhui, this girl, now only seven or eight years old, exhibited a calm that could rival many adults.
As Cai Yong entered the mourning hall, she scanned her surroundings with a discerning and keen eye, colliding gazes with Qiao Yan.
But before she could say anything, Cai Yong’s anguished cries of grief filled the hall, drowning out all other sounds.
“Mr. Bojie is truly a person of great sincerity,” Qiao Yan said, her tone laced with emotion. “Cai family’s young lady, please follow me.”
Where others might hesitate, Qiao Yan fully understood that Cai Yong’s display was genuine because he was indeed a man who appreciated and sincerely returned favors.
Otherwise, he likely wouldn’t have lost his life over a sigh after Dong Zhuo’s demise.
She paused for a moment before adding, “I’ve heard of the Cai family young lady’s name; you share my given name, both being named Yan.”
That surely felt like a special affinity, and it was also a fine opening for conversation.
Except Cai Yan was precocious and cautious, promptly responding, “For the esteemed one’s sake, Lord Qiao may call me by my courtesy name, Zhaoji.”
Cai Yong’s accomplishments in literature and calligraphy were exceptional; having only two daughters, he imparted all his learning and reflections to them once they began their education. Cai Yan was remarkably talented, which brought him much joy, leading him to give her that name.
“Yan Yu’s brilliance is obvious,” hence the name Zhaoji was used as a distinction.
Now seeing Qiao Yan sharing a name with her, it suited her perfectly to distinguish between them.
However, although the topic of their shared name was interrupted by Cai Yan’s brief “You may call me Zhaoji,” to Qiao Yan’s eyes, “Zhaoji” was indeed a name that suited her remarkably well.
Though still quite young, she possessed a refined elegance reminiscent of orchids, yet her gaze already conveyed a fierce determination—it was truly represented by the character “Zhao.”
Qiao Yan naturally followed suit and called her Zhaoji.
Having grown up with little interaction among peers, Cai Yan didn’t realize that the Leping Marquis, a few years her senior, was looking out for her; she simply believed she was receiving this kindness because of her father and being the youngest of the attendees.
Furthermore, as the two stepped into the mourning hall, they witnessed Cai Yong weeping wholeheartedly before Qiao Xuan’s coffin, clearly the most emotionally intense of those paying respects.
Through his somewhat chaotic lament, they barely discerned he was recounting events from the year of Jian Ning, four years.
Four years of Jian Ning equates to thirteen years ago.
At that time, Cai Yong was idly at home, avoiding being captured by the powerful Eunuchs of the moment for engaging in music, while Qiao Xuan valued his talent, first appointing him as an assistant and then sending him out to start as a county chief, promoting him all the way to the rank of councilor.
It’s hard to say whether Cai Yong’s ongoing appeals to Liu Hong were influenced by Qiao Xuan.
What’s clear is that Qiao Xuan made significant contributions to his rise on multiple occasions.
For even during this veil of tears, his lament included, “Yong isn’t good at forming parties; only Lord Qiao’s great favor raised me to see the emperor’s face, yet unfortunately, because of my words against disasters, I was forced far from the capital, and I was unable to see Lord Qiao even once…”
“…..” Qiao Yan was at a loss for words.
She truly ought to be grateful that Cai Yong had arrived at a relatively late time; otherwise, if many had come to pay respects today, this one line could have could even cost him another exile.
What does it mean to be compelled to leave the capital because of statements regarding a disaster?
In the first year of Guanghe, strange occurrences plagued Luoyang, and Liu Hong notably summoned Cai Yong for questioning. Cai Yong bluntly stated that it was due to the Eunuchs meddling in affairs, leading to the dismissal of several individuals—and as a result, he faced retaliation ending up banished to Shuo Fang.
He had just returned to the capital and was already reiterating this matter—effectively spreading his own noose.
But even Qiao Yan couldn’t deny that he, having been an official for many years, still didn’t understand the dynamics of political machinations and how he should protect himself well; yet he did possess a cultural foundation and a mastery of calligraphy that could awe anyone.
The next day, in the Astronomical Observatory, before Qiao Xuan’s coffin, Cai Yong appeared holding a long scroll.
He had spent the night composing a eulogy long enough to etch as an inscription.
As he unfurled the scroll, the contents of the lament—marked with tear stains—were revealed to all present.
“Illustrious ancestors, theholder of the Han’s original power, whose brilliance and insight is abundant, as deep as fathomless waters, high as the exalted mountains. Tender in governance, all nations followed suit. He spread excellence to the Middle Kingdom, five teachings seamlessly connected.”
This spoke of a comprehensive evaluation of Qiao Xuan, praising his impressive demeanor.
“Noble yet humble, unwilling to pursue profit. Although many descendants were officials, he sought not for favored positions for them.”
This notes Qiao Xuan’s elevated status without seeking positions for his offspring.
In original history, this was followed by a line stating that on the day of his death, none of his descendants held high positions or received good land.
But lo and behold, an exception appeared with Qiao Yan, who directly received Leping and earned the title of Marquis.
This certainly did not align with the statement of “the day he passed, none achieved lofty positions or garnered good counties,” and thus those lines were omitted from Cai Yong’s eulogy.
Qiao Yan pondered, unable to stop her gaze from gravitating toward the subsequent section.
“A man of integrity, unafraid of tyranny; there was a loyal adherence to regulations at the Astronomical Observatory, propelling regional governance with formidable might. Each time he faced opposition, a clear breeze spiraled ahead; far and near, everyone trembled…”
That truly was a gem of a phrase.
Especially the line “at the Astronomical Observatory, there was a loyal adherence to regulations; in regional governance, there was formidable might”…
Qiao Yan stared at the coffin that had been resting for several days, momentarily lost in thought.
Cai Yong’s words emanated from deep sincerity, and unless otherwise, how would he have been able to compose a two-thousand-word eulogy overnight?
With this eulogy, one could likely say that if Qiao Xuan was aware from beneath the earth, it would suffice him to be content.
And with those two lines—
It was truly the highest praise for a dutiful minister.
On the twenty-fourth day of the sixth month in the seventh year of Guanghe, Qiao Xuan was buried north of Luoyang, transported in a cart adorned with yellow canopies, and proceeded via Mang Mountain.
The northern army escorted him to Leping.
