CHAPTER 4 : THE ZHAO ESTATE
"Come, JiāYì. Let's go home."
Mother's hand was warm in mine as we walked away from the Han manor for the second time that day. Behind us, I could hear the shuffling of feet, the low murmur of my brothers, and the soft rustle of MěiLíng's skirts as they followed.
They were coming. All of them.
I didn't look back. I kept my eyes forward, on the street ahead, on the two large carriages waiting for us at the corner — black lacquered wood, Zhao family crest of a tiger on the doors, plain and severe. No silk tassels. No gold. Just strength.
A flicker hit me as we approached the carriages — the gates of the Zhao estate, huge and iron, opening for us. My brothers' faces, nervous. MěiLíng's face, carefully blank. And a man in black armor standing on the steps, watching us arrive, his eyes like chips of ice.
The vision vanished and I stumbled slightly. Mother steadied me.
"Are you alright?" she asked quietly.
"Yes, Mother. Just… tired."
She studied my face for a moment, then nodded. She didn't push.
---
The carriages were spacious inside, but the atmosphere was thick enough to cut with a knife.
Mother, Míng, and I rode in the first carriage. Míng pressed himself against Mother's side, small and scared, his eyes huge as he peered out the window.
In the second carriage were Chén, Lì, and MěiLíng. I could see them through the window as we pulled away — Chén sitting straight as a rod, staring ahead, Lì fidgeting with his sleeve, MěiLíng sitting perfectly still, her hands folded in her lap, her expression serene.
I looked out my own window as the carriage rolled through the capital streets, then out the city gates, onto the wide road that led north.
The scenery changed slowly. The crowded streets of the capital, with their shops and teahouses and shouting vendors, gave way to open fields, green and gold in the late morning sun. Farmers bent over rice paddies. A river ran alongside the road for a while, wide and slow, reflecting the sky. In the distance, mountains rose, blue and hazy.
It was beautiful. Peaceful.
Inside the carriage, it was not peaceful.
Míng broke the silence first, his voice small. "Mother… is the Zhao estate very big?"
Mother smiled at him, a real smile, and ruffled his hair. "Very big, Míng. Bigger than the Han manor. It has training grounds, stables, a lake. You'll like the lake. There are fish."
Míng's eyes lit up a little. "Fish?"
"Big ones," Mother said. "But you have to catch them yourself. No servants will do it for you there."
His face fell. "Oh."
I almost smiled.
Mother's expression turned serious. She looked at Míng, then at me. "I have informed them that we are coming today. They will be there to welcome us. Lord Zhao, and his sons." She paused. "I need you both to be on your best behaviour. Especially you, JiāYì. Especially you, Míng."
"Why especially me?" Míng asked, indignant.
"Because you are the youngest," Mother said. "And they will test you. Not to be cruel. But to see what you are made of."
I frowned. "Test us how?"
Mother looked out the window for a moment. "The Zhao family… they are not like your father's family, JiāYì. They are not merchants. They are not courtiers. They are soldiers. They value strength, discipline, and honesty above all else." Her voice hardened slightly. "They do not like deception. They do not like manipulation. They do not like tears used as weapons. They see through it. And they have no patience for it."
Míng looked confused. I did not.
I thought of MěiLíng in the other carriage, with her perfect, sad face. They will see through her, I thought. And the thought was both terrifying and satisfying.
"They are not monsters," Mother continued, softer now. "Lord Zhao is a fair man. Stern, but fair. His sons… they are different. But they are good men. You don't need to be afraid of them. You just need to be… yourself. Your true self. That is what they respect."
Míng nodded solemnly, as if he understood. He didn't. But he would.
I looked out the window again. The mountains were closer now. And at the foot of the mountains, I could see walls. High, grey stone walls.
The Zhao estate.
A flicker hit me — the gates opening. The courtyard. The man in black armor again, his eyes finding mine across the space. Not unkind. Just… measuring.
I shivered.
---
The Zhao manor was not a manor. It was a fortress that had learned how to be a home.
The walls were high and thick, the gates iron and heavy. Inside, the courtyard was huge and paved with flat stones, not decorative tiles. To the left were the stables, to the right, the training grounds where men in plain clothes were sparring with wooden swords, their shouts sharp in the air. Straight ahead was the main hall, built of dark wood and stone, severe and imposing.
And on the steps of that hall, three men stood waiting.
---
Inside the manor, in a room overlooking the courtyard, Lord Zhào WèiYán was on his twenty-fifth robe.
"Not this one," he said, shrugging off a deep blue silk robe and tossing it onto the growing pile on the bed. "Too soft. I look like a courtier."
His second son, Zhào YìChén, twenty-two, handsome and lazy, lounged in a chair by the window, watching his father with amusement. "Father, it's just a woman. You've met women before. Many women. They all throw themselves at you. You usually just nod and walk away."
"Twenty-fifth robe," murmured the third son, Zhào MíngYuǎn, nineteen, sharp-eyed and sharper-tongued. "He's nervous. Our father is nervous. About a woman. This is historic."
Lord Zhao glared at them both as he pulled on a black robe, simple, embroidered only with a silver tiger at the collar. "She is not 'just a woman'. She is Sū RuìXī. General Su's daughter."
YìChén snorted. "Exactly. A divorced woman with a daughter, coming to marry up. She's climbing, Father. You know it. Everyone knows it. She saw her chance when the Prime Minister cast her aside and—"
"Enough."
The voice was cold. Quiet. Final.
Regent Prince Zhào Chányán, the eldest son, twenty-six, stood in the doorway. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his hair pulled back severely, his face like carved jade — beautiful and utterly without warmth. He wore black armor, not a robe, as if he'd just come from the training grounds. Which he probably had.
He looked at his brothers, and his golden eyes were flat. "General Su's family is not someone you mock. Not in this house. Not ever. They are one of the elite military families of Xiānguó. They bled for this kingdom when our family was still guarding the Emperor's hunting grounds. Show some respect."
YìChén had the grace to look abashed. MíngYuǎn just raised an eyebrow.
Chányán walked into the room, his boots silent on the rug. He looked at his father, who was adjusting the collar of the black robe in the mirror. "Are you ready?"
Lord Zhao nodded, then paused. "Chányán… what do you think of this? Truly."
Chányán was quiet for a moment. His brothers watched him. He was the ruthless one. The golden one. The one who never cared about women, never took a consort, never even looked twice at the princesses and general's daughters and merchant heiresses who had practically thrown themselves at his feet for years.
"I think," Chányán said slowly, "that my father is not a fool. Many women have thrown themselves at you, Father. Princesses. Daughters of dukes. Military women who can shoot an arrow through a coin at a hundred paces. Merchant's daughters with dowries big enough to buy a province. You have not given a damn about any of them." He looked out the window, toward the gates. "So I want to see this woman. Sū RuìXī. I want to see what she has that they did not. What made you say yes."
Lord Zhao smiled, a small, real smile. "You'll see soon enough. The carriages are here."
Down in the courtyard, the iron gates groaned open.