After saying that, he struck a pose that made refusal impossible.
“Alright, alright, let’s go.”
“Please, this way, please.”
Everyone was also eager to put this matter behind them. After all, no one truly wished to witness a scandal involving either the Duke’s Mansion or Prince Fu’s Mansion as there was nothing entertaining about such disgrace between nobel families.
Shang Ji after giving every one way went straight to the banquet hall without so much as lifting his eyes.
As for Shang Zhihe’s pitiful screams, they stirred no waves within the vast halls of the Duke’s Mansion.
Grand Commandant Wei (Wei Taiwei), who oversaw military affairs of the dynasty, watched Shang Ji’s departing figure with both anger and dissatisfaction burning in his chest.
But he also understood the long-standing grievances between his daughter and the East Garden [Dongyuan—term for the household branch where Shang Ji resided], so he harbored little hope that Shang Ji would truly avenge He’er.
With only a cold snort, he turned on his heel and headed toward the quarters where Shang Zhihe continued to howl in pain.
Prince Fu (younger brother of the Emperor) cast a glance at his own son, as his expression now tinged with disappointment.
“En’er, we are all family. Why cause such a commotion here? Did I not warn you, before we came, not to provoke Shang Liulang [‘Sixth Young Master Shang,’ a courtesy title for Shang Ji]? He holds great weight in your Imperial Uncle’s eyes. If you go against him, are you not inviting disaster upon yourself?”
Prince En the shizi of Fu mansion bristled, his neck stiff with indignation.
“How can a mere minister make my father so fearful? This is outrageous!”
“Silence! Do you think he is an ordinary minister? He commands four hundred thousand Tiger Guards [an elite imperial military corps] and conquered all thirteen cities of Cezhou all by himslef. And you still dare provoke him?”
Though he continued to mutter resentfully, Prince En’s bravado faltered before the name of Shang Ji.
After all, Shang Ji was truly a man who killed without hesitation. It was wisest to tread carefully around him in the future.
Seeing his son’s temper cool somewhat, Prince Fu said again:
“Come. Let us check on He’er. You owe him an apology for breaking his leg without cause.”
He dared not unleash his temper on Shang Ji.
But Shizi En, who looked down on Shang Zhihe and even the entire Duke’s Mansion, only sneered darkly:
“Dream on! That wretch clings to Mother shamelessly, making her dote on him instead of me. And you still want me to apologize? Hmph. If anything, I would rather torment him to death.”
With that, he strode out of the Duke’s Mansion, ignoring his father’s calls.
A retinue of palace guards followed closely behind, so Prince Fu was not overly worried for his safety.
Still, after one long look, Prince Fu sighed.
A grown son can no longer be bound beneath his father’s hand.
After pondering for a moment, he decided not to force an apology just yet. Better to wait until the imperial physician arrived. So he changed course and made his way to the banquet.
The banquet itself was divided by gender: the men gathered in the front hall, while the women assembled in the flower hall.
Madam Wei, the Duchess, presided over the women’s section, arranging the seats with careful formality.
She had invited an esteemed catering service skilled in preparing delicacies tailored to princes and nobles—refined, elegant dishes that pleased both eye and palate.
At the central table, Princess Yuehua (a daughter of the imperial clan) sat at the place of honor, with Madam Wei on one side and Princess Consort Fu on the other.
Also present were Silang’s wife (the spouse of the Duke’s fourth son), Eldest Sister-in-law Madam Liu, Du Jingyi (wife of Shang Ji, titled General’s Lady), Eighth Sister Xueniang, and Shang Zhiyin.
Whatever their petty quarrels on ordinary days, none of the legitimate mistresses and daughters of the Duke’s Mansion could be absent from such an occasion.
As for the Wei clan’s married daughters—Madam Xing, Wei Jialian, and others—no matter their closeness, they could only be seated at the side tables.
Madam Wei’s heart pricked with annoyance when her gaze fell upon Du Jingyi.
Unlike the timid, shy manner of the East Garden in earlier days, Du Jingyi carried herself with calm composure.
Madam Wei glanced at her daughter, Princess Consort Fu , the meaning in her eyes unmistakable:
With Princess Yuehua here today, we must find a way to humiliate the East Garden. So what if she is a general’s wife? She still has to bow and pay respect before a princess.
Princess Consort Fu understood her mother’s intent. She had already exchanged a subtle glance with Du Jingyi earlier and now seized the chance.
“This is Madam Du, the lady whom Liu Lang [‘Sixth Son,’ Shang Ji] married three years ago.”
Du Jingyi rose unhurriedly, saluting the honored seats with grace.
“This humble concubine pays respects to Princess Yuehua and Princess Consort Fu.”
Princess Yuehua acknowledged her with a soft hum.
“Well-mannered, and comely in appearance. She is indeed a fine match for General Shang.”
With Shang Ji’s current prestige in court, even a princess had to tread carefully around his household.
She was no fool—better to establish her stance at the outset.
Just as Madam Wei prepared to step in and make things difficult for Du Jingyi, an unexpected interruption came: Madam Jiao hurried forward, her face tense and voice lowered.
Though her words were whispered, Princess Yuehua caught enough to frown.
Only a moment ago she had been conversing freely; the sudden intrusion by a servant lacking in decorum was offensive for a nobel household.
But her displeasure deepened when she noticed Madam Wei’s expression turn ashen. The Duchess’s jaw clenched, her arms trembled faintly.
“What is it?” Princess Yuehua asked with curiosity. “Did something happen?”
Cold sweat beaded on Madam Wei’s forehead.
How could she admit that her own grandson’s leg had been broken by another grandson? Such a matter was humiliating no matter how it was told.
To speak of it now, before Princess Yuehua, would make the East Garden a laughingstock—and she could not allow that.
So she forced composure and said lightly:
“Just a trivial matter, nothing to trouble the Princess. Silang’s wife, go with Madam Jiao and take a look.”
Though puzzled by being singled out, Silang’s wife had never defied her mother-in-law’s word. She rose at once and departed.
Left behind, Madam Wei struggled to mask her unease, maintaining polite smiles as she continued to host the gathering.
She had intended to shame the East Garden today. But now her thoughts were consumed with only one question:
Can my grandson’s leg still be saved?
For her Food lost its flavor, and scenery brought only pain.
Across the table, Du Jingyi and Madam Liu exchanged a knowing glance. Both sensed something amiss. But since Madam Wei kept silent, propriety forbade them from pressing further. Instead, they conversed lightly with Princess Yuehua on harmless topics.
“When I resided in Yizhou,” Princess Yuehua remarked, “I often heard tales of General Shang’s campaigns. He lived up to Marshal Gu’s trust, protecting the people of Cezhou most admirably.”
Had such praise come from Madam Xing, Du Jingyi might have accepted it warmly.
But from a princess, no matter her intent, Du Jingyi dared not take the credit directly. She rose once more and said humbly:
“Your Highness ,I present my thanks for your praise on my husband’s behalf. Yet whatever achievements he has won, they were only accomplished under His Majesty’s command. To defend the borders of Great Xing [Daxing dynasty] is but our duty. It is fortune bestowed by Heaven, and above all, a blessing from His Majesty.”
Princess Yuehua’s lips curved faintly at her tactful reply.
Glancing at Princess Consort Fu , she remarked with a calm smile:
“Truly, the Duke’s Mansion harbors hidden gems. Look, you have gained yourself an eloquent new sister-in-law.”