Palace Coup 9
A noble lady from a distinguished family, even when traveling without the protection of her elders, would at least have peers accompanying her—brothers of the same generation, or at the very least, a few elderly maids and some young attendants in tow.
Yet here she was, surrounded by only a handful of retainers, one of whom was strikingly handsome and well-built. Their intimate gestures suggested nothing less than a clandestine elopement between a lady and her guard, much like a scene from a play.
To elope was to become a concubine, hardly elevating her above someone of his lowly status.
He had served as the steward of this estate for nearly twenty years. The manor had changed hands several times—four masters in total. From inquiries made with the county office about the family’s nephew, he learned that the estate had been purchased by a southern merchant named Xie.
In the six years since the purchase, the owners had never once visited. Later, through persistent inquiries, he discovered that the master had no sons, only a beloved daughter whom he cherished above all.
With this knowledge, he began to skimp on provisions bit by bit each year, never once alerting the owners. It seemed the merchant family was quite easy to deceive.
If Xie Miaoxuan knew what he was thinking, she might even praise his cunning. According to the rules of the times, she had severed ties with her family’s protection to follow her childhood betrothed. If this was not considered an elopement, no one would believe otherwise.
Alas, such cleverness was misapplied.
Xie Yuanju helped her sit on a stool in the main room. “Rest for a while first, Miss.”
They both noticed the room was covered in dust, with clear signs of recent movement—scratches and smudges left by dragging sacks. Corn kernels lay scattered in a corner, evidence of grain storage.
For a steward to use the master’s courtyard as a warehouse, and to store so much grain inside the main house…
“I must have startled them earlier, giving them time to move the grain,” he said.
“No rush. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Problems must be solved one by one,” she replied.
Seeing the fatigue and worry etched on her delicate face, he felt a mix of emotions. He had practically watched her grow—from eleven to fifteen years old, four full years. Raised in utmost luxury, never having suffered hardship, she now bore the weight of her family’s upheaval. Her physical pain was borne of sheer resilience. Had the master still been alive, she would never have had to shoulder such burdens.
After cleaning the room thoroughly, he told Xie Miaoxuan he would fetch some medicine and would return shortly, instructing someone to stand guard outside.
She lay on the bed, uncomfortable yet comforted by the spotless corners he had cleaned. Reluctantly, she closed her eyes to rest.
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The entire day had been a test of wit and endurance, with countless journeys spanning dozens of miles. She was truly worn out.
Her body was too weak; this wouldn’t do. She must survive in this world. In another year, chaos would erupt—famine, plague, soldiers devouring the land. With such a frail constitution, she would not last.
Among the scant memories she retained from her former life was one vital piece of news.
The emperor would soon die suddenly. The grand marshal He Dai would enthrone a child emperor and control the court. But the powerful military governors would not accept this. They would seize the opportunity to open the border gates, allowing the Xiongnu to invade and wreak havoc. Before her original self died, the Shao You King, under the guise of purging traitors, would rebel.
The grand marshal commanded 200,000 elite troops; the military governors stationed 400,000 at the border; and the Shao You King was said to have 500,000 private soldiers, accumulated through years of strategic patience.
None wanted to waste forces suppressing the Xiongnu, who roamed the central plains like unchallenged predators—one city falling after another, leaving corpses strewn across the land.
The imperial court and noble families cared little for the common people. Heaven offered no relief. Drought plagued Jizhou and Yongzhou, accompanied by floods, plagues, and hailstorms. Thousands of miles of scorched earth and swarms of locusts devastated the fields.
Over ten million had been affected.
Xie Miaoxuan turned over, reflecting sadly that her original self’s death was, in a way, timely—at least she had not witnessed the horrifying scenes of bones lying everywhere and cannibalism.
In the midst of her thoughts, Xie Yuanju returned with the medicine. She forced herself to sit up, apply the ointment, wash up, then collapsed onto the bed, falling asleep.
She was awakened the next morning by the chirping of birds outside the window.
After freshening up and sitting at the table, she found Da Niu standing nearby, sulking noisily.
Her gaze fell on the table, where only an empty bowl of thin porridge and a few plates of rustic pickled vegetables remained.
“Go fetch Steward Cao,” she ordered.
Da Niu responded loudly and hurried off to find him, his quick steps betraying his eagerness. She smiled and shook her head.
Without tasting a single bite of the porridge, she walked into the courtyard just in time to see Xie Yuanju practicing with a spear, his movements expansive and forceful, stirring the air with sharp bursts of sound.
Tall and graceful, broad-shouldered with a narrow waist, sweat glistened on his bare forearms. The veins on his hand gripping the spear stood out prominently.
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Xie Miaoxuan’s eyes sparkled as she watched him spin and flip through several acrobatic moves—fluid as drifting clouds and flowing water, concluding with a swift, precise finish. She couldn’t help but applaud.
He was truly a dashing, refined gentleman—quick and nimble as a startled hare.
“Greetings, Miss,” he said.
“Can I learn those moves?” she asked.
Xie Yuanju hesitated, then shook his head slowly. “I’m naturally stronger than most, and my style is forceful. You’re frail and lack strength. I’m afraid you won’t be able to learn it.”
Hearing this, Xie Miaoxuan felt a pang of discouragement. Such a fine teacher, right in front of her—what a pity.
Seeing her disappointment, Xie Yuanju considered for a moment, then said, “However, you could learn some basic internal martial arts. I can teach you that. It would improve your health and, if practiced daily, benefit your longevity.”
“Forget it,” she said, waving her hand listlessly. What good was learning superficial internal arts? They were all just show.
What she wanted to learn was the art of the killing blade.
A blade that could kill, yet also save lives—both others and her own.
“We’ll be staying here for a while. This place is self-sufficient but isolated. In the coming days, I want you to go to the capital and gather information about the main Xie family branch and the Xie clan. Also, find out what the common people in the capital are chatting about—especially the topics that excite them. Bring back everything you learn.”
This was the decision she had made after much thought the previous night, to keep a close watch on the capital’s situation.
The best person for the task was Xie Yuanju. Though taciturn, he was meticulous and thorough.
With his refined appearance—like a scion of a noble family—it was easier to carry out such missions. In officialdom, looks mattered; an ugly face was scorned even by street vendors, while a handsome one was often adorned with flowers and gifts. With such a handsome and elegant face, he was sure to succeed.
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