Chapter 7: I Am a Legitimate Wei. What Are You?

On the sixteenth day of the second month, the sky cleared after the snow. A young man a little over fifteen came briskly through the Wei residence’s eastern side gate, wearing a padded robe.

He was Cui Fu, Lady Cui’s half brother, born to a concubine. Unwelcome in the Cui household because of his mother’s status, he often visited his sister to pick up whatever he could. Two days earlier, a message had told him she had something for him to do, so he had hurried over early.

Wei Mingde had gone to his post at the Ministry of Works. In the main courtyard, Lady Cui was playing with two-year-old Shoucheng, who sat on the heated bed-platform clutching an osmanthus cake, crumbs all over his face.

“Sister.” Cui Fu entered with a broad smile, his eyes drifting toward the pastries on the table.

Lady Cui neither offered him a seat nor served him anything. “Did you understand the message I sent?”

“I did.” He nodded quickly. “Don’t worry. He’s just a brat who’s never been outside. I can handle him however I please.”

“See that you do. But don’t cause a major incident. My husband cares about his reputation. Go only so far.”

“Don’t worry, Sister.” Cui Fu thumped his chest. “I know every gambling house in the capital! I’ll take him to play a few games, and I guarantee he’ll beg me to take him again.

“Pity he’s too young. Otherwise I’d take him straight to the pleasure quarter and have a girl—”

“Shut up! What nonsense are you spouting, you good-for-nothing?” Lady Cui quickly covered her son’s ears. “My child is here!”

Seeing her expression, Cui Fu slapped his own mouth. “I shouldn’t have said it.”

She couldn’t be bothered to say more. Taking three taels of silver from her sleeve, she put them on the table. “Get out.”

Cui Fu’s eyes shone. He took the silver, exchanged a few more pleasantries and withdrew.

……

Outside, he weighed the silver in his hand, delighted. Three taels! How much was his monthly allowance at home? A few more easy jobs like this would suit him nicely.

He headed for the side courtyard, thinking about how to complete his task with the least effort. Nisheng’s room lay in the far western corner of the residence, where few people ordinarily came. As Cui Fu turned into the passage, he spotted a figure peering furtively in the same direction.

The youth was about his age, wearing a gray padded coat, shoulders hunched as he craned toward the courtyard gate. Cui Fu, a frequent visitor looking for handouts, knew him: Wang Rong, a servant born into the Wei household, whose mother was Shouzheng’s wet nurse.

Wang Rong often loitered near Nisheng’s courtyard, supposedly delivering things for the eldest young master. In truth, he came to withhold supplies and see how miserable Nisheng was, then report back to the hard-studying Shouzheng to amuse him. He hoped the future head of the Wei family might help him escape his status as a household-born slave.

Cui Fu shook his head and paid him no further attention. He went straight to the gate and knocked.

It soon opened. Nisheng stood there in a blue-green winter coat, his features delicate, with Wei An behind him. Seeing him for the first time, Cui Fu paused. The brat really was good-looking. Pity he wasn’t Cui Fu’s own nephew. The boy couldn’t blame Cui Fu for what came next.

Recovering himself, Cui Fu smiled. “Second Young Master, I’m Cui Fu. My sister sent me to take you out.”

Nisheng glanced at him, said nothing and stepped outside. Cui Fu was a concubine’s son and a tool sent by Lady Cui; Nisheng saw no need to be pleasant to him. Cui Fu thought little of it. The Cui family was of lower standing than the Weis, and he himself was a concubine’s son. Wei An was the real nuisance. That old man was coming too? He would have to be sent away once they were outside.

……

The three had just left the courtyard and were preparing to go out when they met Wang Rong carrying a food box. At the sight of Nisheng, he put on a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Well, Second Young Master, you’ve finally decided to venture out?”

Nisheng wanted only to leave. He turned aside to pass, but Wang Rong stepped forward and blocked him, raising his voice so several passing servants would hear.

“Why go running out in this cold? If you cause trouble, kneeling in the ancestral hall won’t be pleasant in this weather.”

“Get lost.” Nisheng gave him a cold look.

Wang Rong only smiled. “What? You enjoy kneeling there? I suppose someone as hard to kill as you ought to kneel more and drive away the bad luck. It would do everyone good.”

Several servants stopped, covering their mouths as they laughed. Cui Fu folded his arms and watched, ready for a show. Encouraged by his audience, Wang Rong grew bolder.

“Tell me, Second Young Master, why are you even alive? You’ve killed your mother and grandfather with your bad luck. The master can’t stand the sight of you. If you knew your place, you’d hurry up and—”

Crack!

A resounding slap struck his face. Taken by surprise, Wang Rong staggered back and fell. His food box overturned, spilling broth over the ground and splashing his face and clothes.

Everyone went silent. Cui Fu stared, then instinctively stepped back. Was this the unlucky child his sister said had spent ten years inside, bullied by anyone who pleased?

Nisheng stood over Wang Rong, his gaze icy. “I told you to get lost. Are you deaf?”

Wang Rong held his burning cheek, stunned. A ten-year-old had slapped him to the ground in front of everyone. He had lost all face.

“You little bastard! How dare you hit me?”

His face twisted, he struggled up and reached for Nisheng. A figure rushed past Cui Fu, faster than Wang Rong.

Crack!

The second slap was harder than the first and sent Wang Rong sprawling again. Wei An stood straight before Nisheng, his clouded eyes fierce. Usually he stooped like an inconspicuous piece of old wood; now he stood like a wall between the boy and danger.

“You old bastard! How dare you, just like that little bastard—” Wang Rong clutched his face and started to rise again.

“Wang Rong!” Nisheng stepped out from behind Wei An. “You household-born slave, what did you say?

“I am a legitimate son of the Wei family. My birth mother, Lady Lu, has a tablet in our ancestral hall. You’re nothing but a household-born slave bound for life. Your mother merely nursed my brother a few times. In this residence, you don’t even count as a proper servant.

“I’ve overlooked the things you’ve withheld from me because I was young. But what gives you the right to insult me to my face?”

Wang Rong’s face shifted between pale and green. He wanted to retort, but every word was true. Whatever his circumstances, Nisheng was the Wei family’s legitimate second young master; however arrogant Wang Rong might be, he was a household-born slave bound for life. He had almost forgotten that, in law, this despised child could beat him to death without punishment.

Remembering what he had just shouted in anger, Wang Rong swallowed and dared not strike. He scrambled up and pointed at Nisheng. “You… just wait! The eldest young master won’t let you get away with this!”

He fled, slipping and scrambling, trampling through the spilled broth and leaving the food box behind. The watching servants hardly dared breathe. Heads lowered, they pretended to have seen nothing and quietly dispersed.

Lately there had been a rumor in the residence that Lady Cui’s daily kneeling in the ancestral hall was also the second young master’s doing. No one knew whether it was true, but after that slap, it suddenly seemed much more believable.