Chapter 24: Ye Shaoyang

Chapter 24: Ye Shaoyang

A group of elegantly dressed young men emerged from the Red Pavilion with their arms draped over one another’s shoulders. The oldest among them was perhaps twenty-five or twenty-six, while the youngest were seventeen or eighteen. Each was clad in fine silk brocade, wearing hair crowns and jade ornaments at their waists—they were clearly the scions of wealthy and influential families.

The women of the establishment saw them off in person, their voices dripping with reluctance.

"Young Master Wang, do come back tomorrow."

"Farewell, Your Highness."

"Young Master Ye, I shall be waiting for you tomorrow."

Their voices were like the melodic warbling of orioles, sweet and coquettish.

Ye Wanwan had never been to such a place, yet she recognized the tone. It was the same one the imperial concubines used when acting coy with Zhao Yi—a siren’s call so sweet it could make one’s bones melt.

"Your Ladyship, they are about to walk out of sight."

Ye Wanwan watched the group as they drifted further away, her expression indifferent. "I know."

She had only been married into the palace for a few months. On the day of her wedding, Ye Shaoyang had come to see her off. She had been veiled and could see nothing, but when Ye Shaoyang held her hand, his grip was incredibly firm. It felt as if he had a thousand words to say, yet in the end, he had said nothing at all.

After she entered the palace, Ye Shaoyang rarely visited. In her memory, he had entered the palace fewer than five times, and of those, three were seared into her soul.

Currently, Ye Shaoyang appeared carefree and dashing, but in three years, he would join the army and march to war. They would meet again at the victory banquet, where the siblings would stand face to face in silence, exchanging only hollow pleasantries.

Within half a year, he went to war again. It was said he was to face the fiercest general of the Jin Kingdom under grueling conditions; it was destined to be a bitter battle. Before his departure, he came to the palace to see her, leaving her a sum of money before he left.

The final time, only his severed head was returned.

Even though their bond had been thin, they were blood siblings. The moment she saw his head, Ye Wanwan’s heart was torn asunder. She lost her mind in public and, in the end, was viciously slapped by the Empress Dowager.

Most young nobles lived lives of leisure. Once they reached a certain age, they were arranged into minor official posts to drift through their days. Those with talent climbed the ranks, while those without muddied the waters, relying on the shade of their ancestors' achievements.

Ye Shaoyang could have lived such a life, too, had he not had a father who refused to be satisfied.

Although the Empress Dowager came from the Ye family, she was not the Empress, and when Ye Zhaoru sought to be ennobled as the Empress’s kin, Zhao Yi refused.

The position of Prime Minister was not hereditary. If Zhao Yi were to dismiss him, no one in the Ye family could stand on their own, and they would likely fall into ruin. Ye Zhaoru craved a title—a hereditary one that would last for generations, the kind that came with a prestigious plaque to hang above their gate.

However, titles of Dukes and Marquises were not easily obtained. Most were earned by military men who had achieved great feats in battle. It was not unheard of for scholars to be ennobled, but that required immense trust and favor from the Emperor. Clearly, Zhao Yi did not hold the Ye family in such high regard; he wished to be an Emperor who held power firmly in his own hands, constantly guarding against the Ye family’s influence.

One side stubbornly withheld the title, while the other desperately craved it. Ye Zhaoru took a dangerous path, sending his own son to join the army, hoping that Ye Shaoyang would fight for military merit that would force Zhao Yi to bestow a title.

He sent him once and tasted success; he sent him a second time, indifferent to the danger, believing that the greater the peril, the greater the opportunity. In the end, he sent Ye Shaoyang to his grave, where he was beheaded on the battlefield.

When Ye Shaoyang died, Ye Zhaoru, his own father, did indeed weep bitterly. The pain of losing a son was supposed to be heart-wrenching and soul-shattering, but it was all a farce.

He intended to use Ye Shaoyang’s death to make the Emperor feel guilty, hoping to seize the opportunity to achieve his own ends. This was not a guess on Ye Wanwan’s part; it was what the Empress Dowager had told her while scolding her for being soft-hearted.

Because Ye Wanwan had caused such a scene, she had provoked Zhao Yi’s ire, and in the end, Ye Zhaoru’s schemes came to nothing.

Neither of the siblings had met a good end.

As children of the Ye family, how tragic was their existence?

Leaving the teahouse, she boarded her carriage and began the slow journey back to the manor. Ye Wanwan leaned against the window, feigning sleep. After a while, she lifted the curtain to look outside at the familiar streets and the same old shops.

She lowered the curtain. "Xiao Chenzi."

Yan Chen poked his head in from the doorway. "What are your orders, Your Ladyship?"

Ye Wanwan’s fingers twitched. "Go and take care of something for me."