My name is Wei Shuyin, female, fifteen years old, unmarried...
Later, when Wei Shuyin thought back to that day—the first month of the ninth year of the Zhenguan reign—this inexplicable, incoherent sentence always surfaced first in her memory. She was certain she hadn't spoken it aloud; it had merely circled endlessly through her mind like a mantra of denial, gradually shrouding the scene in a merciful haze that softened its sharp edges.
Late January still carried winter's teeth. On the high hill at the corner of Guangdefang, her home—the residence of Prime Minister Wei—had enclosed an open space with painted screens, blocking the view of curious passersby but utterly failing to stop the biting winds that knifed through from the northwest. A large copper charcoal stove had been positioned at the center of this makeshift pavilion, around which her father, mother, and their visiting guests sat arranged on cushioned beds, seeking warmth that never quite arrived.
As a junior, Wei Shuyin could only claim the downwind position. Gray smoke from the stove gusted directly into her face in relentless waves, choking her lungs and forcing her to cough repeatedly while she rubbed her streaming eyes with a silk handkerchief. When she finally looked up through the haze, she found her father Wei Zheng glaring at her with undisguised reproach—as though her discomfort were a deliberate act of disrespect. She quickly clutched the small white copper hand warmer on her lap and straightened her spine, forcing herself into perfect stillness, barely daring to breathe.
Before her, her mother Madam Pei sat engaged in conversation with the Cui family's wife, a practiced smile fixed on her face, her manner dripping with deference that bordered on obsequiousness.
Wei Shuyin released a silent sigh and turned her gaze outward, seeking escape in the landscape beyond. The canal stretched below, its waters reflecting winter light. Beyond the wall, the West Market sprawled across the urban grid, bustling even in the cold. The weather was deceptively beautiful today—clear skies that promised warmth they didn't deliver—and many families had claimed spaces along the canal in the northwest corner of Guangdefang for their leisure activities. Her younger siblings played at the foot of the hill, their laughter carried faintly on the wind, bright notes of freedom that felt impossibly distant.
She longed to join them with an ache that felt physical. But her parents had dragged her here to remain for the reception, invoking her status as the eldest daughter of the Wei family. After all, they weren't here to join in the festivities—the entire family had risked considerable social capital just to secure an audience with Yellow Gate Minister Cui Minggan.
Her mother wore a draped crimson-brown shawl, the color and style deliberately chosen for modest solemnity. She bent forward repeatedly, smile never wavering. The Cui family lady sitting opposite held her spine rigid, dressed in a gorgeous red cape over a green jacket and pomegranate skirt—her expression a masterwork of indifference and aristocratic arrogance. Any uninformed observer entering this tableau would surely conclude that Madam Pei was the wife of some minor subordinate official, paying respects to Madam Cui, the spouse of supreme authority.
The reality inverted this appearance completely.
Shuyin's father, Wei Zheng, currently served as Minister of Personnel and had been elevated to Duke of Julu County—a second-rank title—functioning as prime minister. His reputation as a "straight minister" who spoke truth to power was celebrated throughout the realm, earning the emperor's deep respect and widespread public admiration. Moreover, the Minister of Personnel headed the entire civil service apparatus, making him the direct superior of "Yellow Gate Minister" Cui Minggan. By any measure of official hierarchy, the Cui family should be the ones offering smiles and bows.
Yet the scene before her demonstrated precisely the opposite.
Why?
The answer emerged from Madam Cui's casual recitation: "The eldest son is engaged to the Zheng family of Xingyang, the second son to the Li family of Zhaojun, the eldest daughter to my mother's nephew, and just the other day a young man from the Wang family of Taiyuan came to inquire about the second daughter." The pattern was unmistakable. Her mother—or more accurately, her father Wei Zheng—had been captivated by the prestige of the Boling Cui clan and desperately desired a marriage alliance.
Wei Shuyin glanced at her father and witnessed the spectacle of the realm's most prominent minister, Prime Minister Wei himself, sitting with hands folded, methodically twirling his goatee, straining his long, angular face into something approximating an affable smile—the very picture of earnest sincerity.
It must have cost him dearly; even when meeting the current Tang Emperor, Minister Wei might not have deployed such calculated flattery.
Their family, the Julu Wei clan, descended from Wei Xin, Marquis of Quyang during the Han Dynasty. Confucian classics had been transmitted through their bloodline for generations, producing an abundance of renowned scholars. Wei Langgen, Wei Shou, and their grandfather Wei Changxian had all been celebrated generals and intellectuals of the past century. The Wei clan commanded respect throughout Yan, Zhao, and Hebei—though they remained a tier below the rarefied ranks occupied by the Cui, Lu, and Zheng princes.
Her father had always considered "marrying into a prominent family" among his most cherished life goals, pursuing it with the same fervor he brought to assisting wise rulers, ushering in prosperous eras, and establishing virtue, merit, and enduring reputation. For this ambition, the Wei family had been dispatching messages to Minister Cui's household in Boling for more than a year. Finally, they had secured agreement for today's meeting, offering an opportunity for face-to-face negotiation. Despite having important obligations that evening, her parents had rushed to arrange this gathering, presenting their eldest daughter for inspection and evaluation.
How utterly shameless, Shuyin thought with cold clarity.
"Madam just mentioned that your previous sons and daughters have all secured betrothals," her mother Madam Pei began steering toward the point, "and the third one proposed by the matchmaker—"
A violent hiccup seized her mid-sentence. Madam Pei quickly raised a handkerchief to cover her mouth, murmuring apologies. Wei Shuyin moved closer to help rub her mother's back, easing the discomfort. She had grown accustomed to these episodes over the past month or two. Her mother had been pregnant five times in the past seven years, but none of the previous four had proved as troublesome as this one. Her father was delighted, declaring that "only male fetuses cause such disturbance," and was already preparing to welcome his fourth son.
Thinking about it, her father—Prime Minister Wei, already in his fifties—remained remarkably vigorous.
Aunt Cui, the widowed cousin of Minister Cui who sat nearby playing hostess, had been engaged as matchmaker for this arrangement and was proving quite industrious. She turned to Madam Cui and suggested, "Madam Pei is unwell. Let's not delay further. Please have Wanu brought out to meet everyone."
Madam Cui nodded and ordered a maid to fetch the person in question.
Wei Shuyin understood she was present to meet a potential son-in-law. Just as she wondered whether she should withdraw to preserve propriety, the Cui family demonstrated characteristic efficiency. In moments, a maid emerged from behind the barrier to announce the arrival.
Was her future husband about to make his entrance? Wei Shuyin quickly ducked behind her mother, lowering her head while curiosity compelled her to steal glances toward the entrance. She wondered what manner of tall, handsome, distinguished young nobleman this third son of the Cui family might be.
"Wanu, come pay your respects to Prime Minister Wei and his wife," Madam Cui instructed.
The maid led the third son forward. The child bowed with practiced grace. Wei Zheng and Madam Pei returned the gesture with appropriate dignity.
Wei Shuyin, concealed at her mother's side, felt her thoughts scatter like startled birds.
The young man was indeed handsome—fair complexion, hair arranged in three delicate braids, features of remarkable prettiness. Small hands clasped in respectful salutation, the child resembled the reincarnated celestial beings depicted in Buddhist temple paintings—
No more than five years old.
My name is Wei Shuyin, eldest daughter of Wei Zheng, Minister of Personnel. I'm fifteen years old. I've already undergone my coming-of-age ceremony. I am unmarried... How could the daughter of a prominent prime minister find herself being sold to the Cui family as a child bride?
Wei Shuyin's ears buzzed with a sound like distant thunder, yet her mother seemed entirely unconcerned. Madam Pei picked up the Cui child with practiced ease, showering the little one with effusive praise before handing the copper hand warmer to her daughter and rolling up her sleeves to display her bracelets—the meeting gift already prepared.
Wei Shuyin accepted the hand warmer in a daze. Her grip failed; the object slipped from nerveless fingers and struck the ground with a resounding crash. The lid popped open, sending sparks of red-hot charcoal scattering across the floor in a shower of fire.
The sudden noise startled the third child of the Cui family, who broke free from Madam Pei's embrace and fled back to the nurse, hiding behind protective skirts and refusing all coaxing. Madam Pei removed her gold bracelet to offer as an engagement gift, but nothing could persuade the child to emerge. Madam Cui observed this development and scolded dismissively, "This child is unruly."
The reprimand triggered immediate tears. No amount of consolation proved effective. Cui Sanlang—the prospective betrothed—was carried away by the nurse, face streaming with tears and snot, a picture of abject misery. Madam Cui seized this opportunity to offer her farewells, departing with measured dignity and leaving only matchmaker Aunt Cui behind.
For what purpose? Naturally, to negotiate terms.
"Prime Minister Wei enjoys the emperor's profound respect and affection. He holds exalted position. Even common people throughout the court and countryside recognize that Duke Wei is the God of Heavenly Power descended to assist the Tang Dynasty in establishing eternal foundations. My Cui family pales in comparison—generations have known only scholarship and farming. Our household is quite poor, and I fear any bride entering our family might suffer privation..."
How delightfully transparent. She opened with ritual self-deprecation, immediately driving toward the essential point. Wei Shuyin kept her head lowered, listening as her parents responded with repeated humble protestations: "The Wei family also comes from modest origins and maintains simple living standards."
Aunt Cui proved exceptionally capable and efficient. She waved her shawl with theatrical flair, smiling broadly:
"What the Prime Minister says is undoubtedly true. Prime Minister Wei is a man of great talent and an incorruptible official who never covets wealth! Yet the household of a second-rank prime minister must necessarily be considerably more prosperous than our humble Cui establishment. Just recently, I heard someone mention that the year before last, Prime Minister Wei submitted a memorial, and the Empress Dowager rewarded him with four hundred thousand coins and four hundred bolts of silk in a single bestowal. Regardless of the gift's monetary value, such recognition represents rare honor indeed!"
Tsk. The five great surnames—including Cui and Lu—truly deserved their reputation as "marriage-selling families." They investigated every suitor thoroughly, tracking even supplementary income with meticulous precision. They quoted prices based on documented wealth, conducting transactions with scrupulous fairness and complete transparency, never cheating anyone... Considering young Cui Sanlang, who barely reached an adult's waist in height, the child they offered was less a person than an actual golden Buddha statue.
How much would it cost to purchase a golden Buddha as son-in-law? Wei Shuyin listened with grim patience as her parents negotiated with Aunt Cui at length, finally extracting the answer—thirty thousand bolts of silk.
Madam Pei immediately succumbed to another bout of hiccupping and morning sickness. Prime Minister Wei twisted his beard between nervous fingers, nearly pulling the goatee out by the roots.
Wei Shuyin felt genuine shock ripple through her. In recent years, her mother's frequent pregnancies had weakened her health significantly. As eldest daughter, Shuyin often assisted with household management and had grown quite familiar with market prices and family economics. Thirty thousand bolts of silk would create a mountain of fabric; the combined assets of ten prosperous families might not equal such wealth.
Just recently, when her father had counseled Princess Changle to moderate her dowry demands, the Empress Dowager had rewarded the Wei family with four hundred thousand coins and four hundred bolts of silk. Four hundred thousand coins converted to approximately eight hundred bolts of silk, bringing the total to twelve hundred—less than one-tenth of what the Cui family demanded. Her father's entire annual income—including rice stipends, official land revenues, monthly salary, labor service fees, and other regular sources—amounted to less than seven hundred bolts of silk. In recent years, imperial favor had granted several additional farms, but mindful of his reputation, her father dared not increase rents and taxes. The Wei household was large, and annual surplus remained virtually nonexistent.
Cui Minggan was demanding a sum as vast as the sky itself—thirty thousand bolts of silk. Wei Shuyin looked around the gathering. Even if that five-year-old child were made of actual gold, steamed until tender, and sold by weight, the price wouldn't justify such astronomical cost.
Aunt Cui, however, appeared utterly fearless, smiling with casual confidence. "My lord and lady, please don't blame my family for greed. These are the times we live in; we cannot undervalue ourselves. You both know that Fanyang Lu is related to Lord Fang Xuanling's wife. When Prime Minister Fang proposed marriage for his eldest son Yizhi, he was persuaded only after offering betrothal gifts worth forty thousand in currency before the bride would enter his household. Then there's Duke Shiji, who received the imperial surname Li from the retired emperor and was elevated to Duke during the Wude period—such an exalted position, immensely respectable! When he approached the Zheng family of Xingyang seeking marriage, the Zheng clan disdained his background as mere gentry and military class from the Sui Dynasty, refusing to agree regardless of monetary offers. Of course, the Julu Wei represents noble Hebei lineage, and Prime Minister Wei's reputation for integrity is unmatched. Marrying into your family would bring honor to any household, and my Cui family approaches these negotiations with complete sincerity..."
Madam Pei sighed heavily, glancing at her daughter before unconsciously stroking her rounded belly.
Wei Shuyin understood her mother's calculations immediately. This represented the Wei family's first marriage arrangement for this generation, and they would need to liquidate virtually everything to raise the required sum. She had two younger sisters and three younger brothers, plus the child currently gestating in her mother's womb. According to her father's ambitions, he wanted all of them married into the Cui, Lu, and Zheng families.
Duke Wei of Xuancheng shouldn't serve as prime minister on earth; he would prove far more useful as the God of Wealth in heaven.
"My lord and lady, please discuss this matter carefully at home. There's no need to rush into decisions about this marriage. Only two or three families are currently seeking Wanu's hand." Aunt Cui's smile grew warmer, more intimate. "Now, regarding the other potential match that was mentioned previously—there's a high-ranking official whose first wife has passed away. He seeks to marry a lady from a noble family with strong connections at court. The betrothal gift he's offering amounts to fifty thousand bolts of silk! Your eldest daughter would be perfect for this arrangement. Are the Duke and lady interested?"
"I... what?"
Wei Shuyin could no longer contain herself. The exclamation burst out before she could suppress it. Were they discussing her?
Aunt Cui and her parents all turned to stare. Gray mist swam before Wei Shuyin's vision once more.
"Weren't they planning to marry me to Cui Sanlang? How has another high-ranking official whose first wife died suddenly appeared?" Exactly how many times had her parents mentally auctioned off their daughter?
"Cui San..." Her mother's composure cracked, anger bleeding through. "You foolish child, why are you so slow-witted? Who told you that was a young man?"
"Huh?" Wei Shuyin's mouth fell open. "What do you mean?"
"Didn't you clearly hear the nickname 'Wanu'? All those years of education—where have your studies gone?"
If a boy is born, he will have a bed to sleep on, clothes to wear, and jade to play with. If a girl is born, she will have a place to sleep on the ground, a hem to wear, and tiles to play with...
Such familiar lines from the Book of Songs, yet she had completely forgotten their significance. Thinking back to that delicate, rosy, shy little child, the appearance truly seemed more feminine. Her mother had removed her bracelet as a meeting gift... So this was the third young lady of the Cui family.
"Ah Ying, you're being ridiculous," her father Wei Zheng also scolded, frowning with disappointment. "If the young man from the Cui family were being betrothed to you, how could a man and woman meet so openly? Where would our family's reputation go?"
So... today her parents had brought her, the eldest sister, to inspect a prospective bride for her eldest brother?
Wei Shuyin felt heat flood her face as realization crashed over her in humiliating waves.
The Cui family demanded thirty thousand bolts of silk, and her parents would have to sacrifice their entire estate to raise the betrothal gift. Naturally, such an investment would only be made for their eldest son Shuyu, securing him a "tomb lady" from the Cui clan to serve the ancestral temple and perpetuate the family line. She was merely a daughter—destined to eventually belong to another family. How absurdly self-important she'd been, imagining herself worth thirty thousand bolts of silk as dowry.
Not only was she not worth thirty thousand bolts—she was about to be sold for fifty thousand.
"That high-ranking official who's offered such a substantial sum to marry your daughter," Aunt Cui continued her relentless pitch, "although he lived in poverty during his youth, he has now achieved fame and accumulated considerable wealth. He's a celebrated general of the dynasty, and his father and grandfather have been posthumously granted official honors. Given Prime Minister Wei's exalted position, accepting him as son-in-law would hardly be inappropriate..."
"Who are you talking about?" Wei Shuyin's voice came out strangled with dread.
"Supreme Pillar of State, Duke of Su, General of the Left Vanguard—Cheng Yaojin."
"Cheng—" Wei Shuyin's vision darkened. She nearly fainted outright.
Cheng Yaojin bore the nickname "demon of the mortal world." Whenever he visited the Wei mansion, the Wei siblings couldn't suppress their curiosity and would hide behind screens and latticed windows to peek at him. Her memories presented an overwhelming figure—burly, corpulent, possessing an unusually prominent belly, his face so thoroughly covered with beard that mouth and nose virtually disappeared beneath the growth, his appearance ferocious enough to rival the Vajra guardian warriors standing sentinel in temple halls.
Marry him as a secondary wife? She'd probably be devoured on the wedding night to fill that legendary belly!
Wei Shuyin's ears buzzed as though filled with swarming insects. Through the noise, she heard her mother's weak voice:
"We need to consider this matter very carefully. General Cheng is nearly fifty years old, and several children born to Lady Sun from his previous marriage are older than Ah Ying. Ah Ying is only fifteen—marrying an old man as a young bride, she's foolish and inarticulate, how could she possibly compete with the sons and daughters from the first wife..."
"Madam, you worry excessively. An old husband with a young wife creates the most affectionate marriages. The young lady need only marry him and wait to enjoy comfortable living. Isn't that what Prime Minister Wei himself always says? Although General Cheng looks fierce, he actually possesses an excellent temperament, and his household is tremendously wealthy..."
Cheng Yaojin has a good temperament? Then why don't you, Aunt Cui, marry him and enjoy that comfortable life yourself... Wei Shuyin looked up to find her father stroking his beard, nodding thoughtfully.
"I met Lord Cheng at Wagang Stronghold and we've been close friends for many years. For my sake, I'm confident Lord Cheng wouldn't treat my daughter unfairly."
"Precisely!" Aunt Cui slapped her knee, smile radiating triumph. "General Cheng is in his absolute prime. If we arrange the betrothal now, perhaps Prime Minister Wei and his wife will be welcoming a grandson by this time next year!"
Wei Shuyin turned desperately toward her mother. Madam Pei looked pale and drawn, but she too had lapsed into silence.
Indeed, wealthy families today valued the status conferred by first wives but cared little about distinctions between primary and secondary spouses. Many noble ladies, even princesses, married men decades their senior as secondary wives, and such arrangements were praised as excellent matches. Her parents weren't actually harming their daughter; they were simply... selling their daughter to raise the bride price necessary to marry their son into one of the five great surname families.
This was a perfectly normal transaction—so normal there was no need to conceal it from the daughter being sold. Everything else was meaningless rhetoric; only one calculation truly mattered:
Fifty thousand bolts of silk! A Cui family daughter! Fifty thousand bolts! A Cui daughter!
The equation repeated like a merchant's abacus clicking through profits.
Wei Shuyin stood, head bowed, and walked silently down the hillside, no longer listening as her parents and the matchmaker arranged the specific details of her marriage. This was probably considered proper behavior demonstrating respect for propriety and law, she thought distantly. Her father likely regarded her departure with approval.
The wind carried late winter's bite. The distant cries of her brothers and sisters playing by the canal sounded strange and unfamiliar, as though they belonged to people she'd never known. How many more days of carefree play remained for them before they too were placed on the auction block? Wei Shuyin knew with absolute certainty she could no longer join their games.
She walked slowly along the screen barrier. When she heard the distinct murmur of voices and the snorting of horses waiting outside, she pressed hard against the painted panels. The barrier, propped precariously on wooden poles, collapsed with satisfying violence, striking her own servant who stood waiting with the horses.
Gathering her long, sepia-colored skirt in her left hand, Wei Shuyin stepped over the fallen screen. She seized the reins of her mount, jammed her feet into the stirrups, and before anyone could process what was happening, spurred the horse into explosive motion, fleeing desperately along the streets of Guangdefang.
The future remained beyond her control. But Lady Wei Yi would not simply accept this fate.
Behind her, the clamor of pursuit rose quickly—voices shouting her name, commands to stop, the thunder of hooves giving chase. Wind screamed in her ears. Wei Shuyin held back tears through sheer force of will, gripped the reins until her knuckles went white, lowered her body close to the horse's neck, and squeezed its flanks, urging it to even greater speed.
That afternoon, Wei Shuyin believed herself the most miserable young woman awaiting marriage in the entire world.
By nightfall, she would overturn even this belief.
Previous/Next
.jpeg)
.jpeg)
.jpeg)