Chapter 132: Old Madam Yin Disciplines Her Grandson

"How dare that son of the Mo family come to my Duke of Yun-jie’s mansion!" Yin Yuan exclaimed, his voice trembling with disbelief upon hearing the gatekeeper’s report.

Among the twenty-four founding ministers of the Great Tang, the first to pass away was Yin Kaishan, the Duke of Yun-jie. He had died of illness in the sixth year of the Wude era while accompanying Li Shimin on a campaign against Liu Heifa. Having left behind no male heirs, his nephew Yin Yuan was eventually named his successor, inheriting the title of Duke of Yun-jie. At only sixteen, Yin Yuan was in the prime of his youth and impulsiveness; hearing that Mo Di—the "son of the Mo family"—was at his doorstep, he flew into a rage.

The news of the Mo family’s son being repeatedly turned away by other noble houses had already spread throughout the city. Yin Yuan was well aware of this, and, having received a secret nod from Zhangsun Chong, he expected that Yan Liben would be commissioned to paint the portrait of his late uncle for the Lingyan Pavilion. He had assumed that the Mo family’s son would not dare show his face, yet here he was, persisting at the gates of the Yin estate after being rejected by three other families.

"That scoundrel has set his sights on the Yin family as his last resort. Does he take me for a soft target?" Yin Yuan roared.

"Young Master, the son of the Mo family is still waiting outside for an answer. What shall we do?" the steward asked cautiously.

"If he has come to humiliate himself, then don’t blame me for showing him no mercy!" Seething with fury, Yin Yuan stood up and marched toward the gate.

"Stop right there!"

A stern shout halted him in his tracks. An elderly woman with a youthful face and hair as white as a crane’s, leaning on a cane, stood glaring at him.

"Old Mistress!" the steward bowed hurriedly.

"Grandmother! Why are you here?" Yin Yuan quickly stepped forward to support her, his expression shifting to one of reverence and filial piety.

The old woman was none other than Yin Kaishan’s mother, the true matriarch of the Yin household. When Yin Kaishan died young, the entire family had teetered on the brink of collapse. It was she who had navigated the crisis, managed the affairs of the house, and insisted that Yin Yuan be adopted as the heir to preserve the family’s honors and titles.

"You foolish boy! If I hadn't come, you would have thrown away the glory that the Yin family has struggled so hard to preserve!" She glared at him, her eyes burning with frustration.

"Grandmother? That Mo fellow is here to use my late father’s name to seek fame and damage our reputation. Turning him away was me being polite!" Yin Yuan argued indignantly.

"You stubborn fool! You don't see the situation clearly. The son of the Mo family is currently in the Emperor’s favor—not to mention that if you chase away the painter the Emperor arranged, do you even care if your father’s portrait ever makes it into the Lingyan Pavilion?" the old woman scolded. The honor of being enshrined in the Lingyan Pavilion was the foundation of the Yin family's future prosperity; there was no room for even the slightest error.

"Oh! Is that what you are worried about?" Yin Yuan let out a sigh of relief. "Don't worry, Grandmother. I am on good terms with Zhangsun Chong, and he has already promised to invite the great master of state painting, Yan Liben, to paint the portrait. Master Yan has been perfecting new techniques and has already mastered the art; his skills are in no way inferior to those of the Mo family’s son."

Upon hearing this, the old woman didn't feel reassured; instead, she flew into a rage and struck Yin Yuan across the back with her cane. "Zhangsun Chong? You’ve listened to the slanderous words of others! After your uncle died, our family has been walking on thin ice. Keeping a low profile is the only path to survival. Yet you dare to involve yourself in the petty squabbles of these spoiled aristocrats? I’ll beat the sense into you!"

She rained blows upon him with her cane. Despite blood trickling down his forehead, Yin Yuan stood his ground, refusing to dodge. "Grandmother, the son of the Mo family is no older than I am. How could he have ever seen my late father? How could he possibly paint him? If he just paints some random face and it’s hung in the Lingyan Pavilion, would that truly be my father? You can beat me to death, but I will not let him tarnish my father’s name and turn our family into a laughingstock!"

"You foolish child! Your father passed away so long ago—even Yan Liben never saw him!" The old woman looked at the bloodied youth, moved by his devotion yet pained by his ignorance.

"What?" Yin Yuan was stunned, staring at her in disbelief.

"Your father spent his life on the battlefield and rarely returned to the capital. Yan Liben is a civil official; they moved in different circles," she sighed.

"But Master Yan and my father served the same court..." Yin Yuan persisted.

"The other three families lost their patriarchs only recently, so perhaps Yan Liben might have seen them. But your father died in the sixth year of Wude, and Yan Liben only entered the court during the Zhenguan era. He never saw your father! How could he possibly paint an accurate portrait?"

Yin Yuan collapsed to his knees. He realized he had been a mere pawn in someone else’s game, nearly dragging his family into a vortex of political strife. "Then what do we do? Is there no hope for my father’s portrait?"

The Lingyan Pavilion was vital to the family’s legacy. It was built in the heart of Chang'an for future generations to admire. If the other twenty-three portraits were lifelike while his father’s looked nothing like him, the Emperor would surely notice. When the Emperor visited to pay his respects, he would look at the realistic portraits of the others, but when he reached his father’s, he would be confronted by a stranger. How could he feel any genuine sentiment?

Yin Yuan felt a chill run through him. If that happened, the family would not only be a laughingstock, but the Emperor’s favor would surely wane—that would be their true catastrophe.

"Foolish boy! Do you still not see? That boy has been turned away three times, yet he remains at our gate. Do you really think he is just here to humiliate himself?" the old woman asked, looking at her grandson with a mix of pity and frustration. He was dutiful and filial, but his mind was not the sharpest.

"Grandmother, are you saying... the son of the Mo family has a way? But how? No one can paint a person they have never seen." A glimmer of hope flickered in Yin Yuan’s eyes, only to fade again.

"Then we must treat a dead horse as if it were alive. If there is anyone in this world who can paint your father, it must be the originator of these new techniques, the son of the Mo family," the old woman said, clutching at a shred of hope. She had heard of his reputation even from deep within her residence; she could only pray he would perform another miracle.

"I will go and invite him in at once!" Yin Yuan jumped up from the ground.

"No! Open the main gates! I will welcome him personally." The old woman spoke with firm resolve, regaining the indomitable spirit of the woman who had saved the family all those years ago.