Chapter Three: A Faint Hope

Madam Pei Wan carried a bowl of meat porridge to the bedside and sat down, carefully studying her beloved son before her. A gentle, loving light shone on her face as she spoke softly, “Min’er, your complexion improves by the day. Before long, you’ll be lively enough to return to the academy. Missing several days of lessons does have some impact. When you go back, you must consult your teacher often and exchange ideas with the talented youths of our clan. If there’s anything you don’t understand, you must make sure you grasp it thoroughly. When it comes to learning, there’s no room for carelessness. You’ve always enjoyed practicing swordplay, and seeing that it hasn’t interfered with your studies but has made you healthy, I haven’t interfered much. But I never imagined you’d possess such talent for the sword and attain such mastery.”

“I truly do not wish for you to pursue this path... It’s not that I wish to meddle in your future, only that I feel that a mere warrior has little prospect. Though our dynasty reveres martial valor, what it truly prizes is military achievement. The key to military merit lies in strategy, not individual bravery. Besides, our Pei family has always valued scholarship, governing the country through knowledge. Even though martial prowess is respected, only civil officials may rise to the highest ranks. Even if you never become a renowned minister, it’s quite enough to be a scholar, to teach the next generation, to earn people’s respect. That’s still better than being a man of arms.”

Pei Wan came from humble origins, belonging to the lower class, yet her vision was not narrow. She harbored great expectations for her son. The recent Xian incursion had come suddenly, catching all of Huairou County unprepared. The county soldiers charged with keeping order were no match for the Xian elite troops and had no time to organize an effective defense. At the time, she had been helping someone dry rice in the threshing ground. Sensing something amiss, she nimbly climbed a large banyan at the edge of the yard and thus was spared. From her perch, she witnessed her own son, alone with his sword, seeming a hero reborn, scattering the Xian troops with unstoppable might. He cleaved through their ranks and, without pause, cut down their leader.

Pei Wan’s joy was tinged with unease. If Pei Min were to tread this bloody path from now on, how could she ever sleep peacefully again? As the saying goes, “The water jar often breaks at the well’s edge; a general rarely dies at home.” Her love for her son made her dread the day she might have to send him off forever, white-haired to bury black-haired, a regret beyond bearing.

Faced with his mother’s earnest guidance, Pei Jingyuan could feel the depth of her love for her child and nodded repeatedly to show his understanding.

Seeing Pei Min’s promise, Pei Wan felt reassured. Remembering the doctor’s advice, she continued chatting with him, telling him about the changes in Huairou County, a note of pride in her voice. “My son saved the people of the town. Everyone in the city is grateful to you. A few days ago, while you were unconscious, even the magistrate himself came to visit our humble home. Seeing how poor we were, he wanted to give us a house. But I refused. We may be poor, but we will not lose our integrity. The magistrate only seeks to use your fame for his own advancement. We must not fall for his tricks.”

“And another thing—these past few days, so many matchmakers have come to our door that they’ve worn down our threshold. My son has brought me such pride before all our neighbors. But now those seeking to cozy up to us are too late. Son, remember, only those who share hardship with you are truly worthy of trust. Those who come only when you’re prosperous are not to be relied upon. Hmph, my son is of the Hedong Pei clan. If you are to marry, let it be a noble daughter from one of the great families, not some merchant’s girl.”

Pei Jingyuan managed a faint smile, but his heart grew heavier. It was clear that Pei Wan saw Pei Min as her everything, the very reason to carry on, determined to nurture him into a man of worth who could openly return to the doors of the Pei family.

Pei Wan chattered on for a long while, keeping him company until exhaustion overtook him and he drifted into sleep.

Watching Pei Jingyuan fall asleep, Pei Wan could no longer hold back her tears. They fell silently and would not be stopped.

That night, Pei Jingyuan had a strange dream. He dreamed he was lying on a hospital bed, with his diligent mother and father chatting and laughing with “him.” Yet he himself seemed to be a wandering soul, observing as a bystander from a god’s-eye view. Through the eyes of this other self, he seemed to glimpse a sorrow deeply hidden... He was Pei Min!

When Pei Jingyuan awoke, his pillow was already soaked with tears.

Turning over the scenes from his dream, he could not tell if it was the day’s thoughts spilling into the night, or some spiritual resonance brought on by the exchange of souls between the two of them. For once, he did not wish for his dreams to be real, for then his family, his parents, would not be left in endless grief because of him. Forcing himself to sit up despite the aches all over his body, he moved to the desk by the window in the dim moonlight filtering through the window. Not long ago, he had seen Pei Wan take a fire striker from the right drawer to light the oil lamp on the desk.

Imitating her, he took out the fire striker. The device was somewhat advanced for the era and unfamiliar in his hands, but he understood its use. Removing the cap, he blew hard on the flint tip until a spark danced to life, and quickly lit the oil lamp.

Soft lamplight filled the small room. Laboriously, he made his way to the right side of the room, where a large standing bronze mirror was placed. In ancient times, personal appearance was taken seriously—disheveled clothing was a grave breach of etiquette, especially for a scion of a noble house like Pei Min. Of all the furnishings in Pei Min’s room, this bronze mirror was the most valuable.

His reflection appeared in the mirror. Pei Jingyuan studied the unfamiliar young man looking back at him, half-mocking, half-pleased. “I truly have the face of a pretty boy. If this were the future, it would be a sin not to become famous everywhere.” He had begun to accept his new identity, wanting to see what he now looked like.

He had always been satisfied with his own looks—pleasant and above average, enough to be proud of. If Pei Min resembled him seven or eight parts, it would be enough. But now, like Zouchi comparing himself to Xu Gong, the difference was immense: the reflection was that of a youth barely twenty, with delicate eyebrows, eyes, nose, and mouth, a healthy, luminous complexion, gentle and defined features—every part perfectly formed and harmoniously arranged, making for a handsomeness beyond reproach. The only flaw was the pallor from illness, lending him the air of a “fragile beauty.”

Staring at his image in the mirror, Pei Jingyuan spoke softly and gravely, “From this day forth, I am you. Your mother is my mother. I will devote myself to her, to serve her with all my heart, until her old age... And I hope that in the future, you, like me, will see my parents as your own.”