Chapter 12: Such a Grand Home

Dunwu blinked. “Yes, is there a problem? Or does the young general think I’m just making things up?”

“Nonsense! What do you think?” If he didn’t trust Dunwu not to spout nonsense, Wei Ba would’ve kicked him into the river right then. Even if every one of them were elite porters from Chongqing, there’s no way each person could carry ninety kilograms and march thirty or forty kilometers a day.

Wei Ba snorted in disbelief, but then, a thought struck him—maybe it was a matter of weights and measures. Didn’t the Han dynasty’s ‘jin’ weigh less than five hundred grams?

“Dunwu, how much does this kettle weigh?” Wei Ba picked up a bronze water kettle nearby and asked.

Dunwu took it and weighed it in his hands. “About four jin, I’d say.”

Wei Ba understood instantly. By his own estimation, the kettle wasn’t large—at most a kilo, so about two modern jin. But Dunwu called it four jin, which meant a Han jin was just 250 grams, half a modern jin. Even so, it was nothing to scoff at. Each person carrying forty or fifty kilos and still able to cover dozens of kilometers of mountain roads every day? To Wei Ba, that was simply incredible.

“I still don’t believe you can do it.” Wei Ba shook his head repeatedly.

Dunwu smiled. “Whether we can or not, talk is cheap. Tomorrow, when we reach the manor, you can pick any ten men and let them show you. Then you’ll believe it.”

Wei Ba nodded eagerly. “Alright, alright.” He really couldn’t believe what Dunwu described without seeing it for himself.

The night passed quietly. Wei Ba fell asleep to the sound of oars, and when sunlight streamed into the cabin the next day, the boat had already docked at the entrance of the Wei family estate in Nanzheng. Wei Wu was already up, having just finished his sword drills on the deck. He was brimming with energy, a fine sheen of sweat on his brow, babyish cheeks flushed and steaming.

“Brother, you’re up?”

“So early?” Wei Ba rubbed his bleary eyes, glanced at the sparkling river, and stretched. It looked like his daily exercises would be delayed today. The thought had barely crossed his mind when he caught himself—wasn’t he just making excuses? If he let this slide, the good habit he’d struggled to keep up for half a month would probably unravel in no time. He resolved on the spot—no matter what, today’s training would be done first.

“Dunwu, is there a place to work out in the manor?”

Dunwu replied respectfully, “There’s a martial yard, with every piece of equipment you might need, young general.”

Wei Ba felt a little awkward. Equipment? He was already proud to keep up with running. He said nothing more and followed Dunwu ashore, heading straight for the Wei family estate.

The estate was large, nearly a hundred acres, with a man-high wall encircling it and a river outside that, together, made it look like a small city. But then again, a place that could house three or four thousand families was basically a city.

Once inside the gates, Wei Ba saw a broad avenue, about five paces wide and a hundred long, leading straight to a closed inner courtyard that exuded a unique grandeur. Beyond the courtyard walls, he glimpsed the eaves of a two-story building. He realized this must be the family’s inner residence, while the thatched cottages nearby were homes to the retainers. He let out a quiet sigh. This was his home now, filled with his loved ones—the most precious thing he had in this world.

“What’s wrong, brother? Let’s go see Mother first—she must be worried sick these past days.” Wei Wu tugged impatiently at his hand, leading him forward. Before they even reached the small courtyard, a flurry of childish voices erupted inside. In a moment, dozens of children—some as old as seven or eight, some as young as three or four—came pouring out. They chattered excitedly, some rushing to grab Wei Wu’s hand, some circling Wei Ba with laughter and teasing, others standing aside with solemn, grown-up gestures, bowing respectfully.

“Greetings, young general!”

Wei Ba paused, then understood. These were the children of the Wei household’s retainers. Judging by their long robes, they were probably students in the courtyard. They might not be learning anything profound, but they’d at least be literate. It seemed his father, Wei Yan, not only treated his followers well, but also their families. Which made sense—if he hadn’t, how could the retainers be so loyal?

Wei Ba kept his greetings brief and entered the courtyard, heading straight for the main hall. Before long, a middle-aged steward surnamed Chen arrived. Wei Ba got right to the point, stating his request. Steward Chen said nothing, just nodded and went off to make arrangements. Wei Ba, meanwhile, followed the now impatient Wei Wu into the back hall. Two little children, about five or six, dashed in ahead of them, calling out in clear voices, “Aunt Deng, Aunt Deng, Brother Ba and Brother Wu are back!”

“I know, I know!” came the reply from inside, and a woman in her forties hurried out. The moment she saw Wei Ba, her smile froze, and she stood there, staring straight at him. Wei Ba, confused, stood rooted as well. The woman looked him over for a long time before asking timidly, “Ba’er, is… is it really you?”

Before Wei Ba could answer, Wei Wu bounded forward, grabbed the woman’s arm, and laughed, “Mother, what’s wrong with you—don’t recognize your own son? Well, I can’t blame you! Let me tell you, Brother’s changed a lot these days—up every morning to run and exercise. He’s much stronger now, no longer the sickly boy who’d be blown away by a breeze. No wonder you didn’t recognize him.”

Wei Ba realized then—this was his birth mother, Lady Deng. He’d already heard, in roundabout ways, that his father Wei Yan was not only a capable general but also prolific in fatherhood: a wife, four concubines, eleven sons, and nine daughters. Of those, five sons and two daughters died young. Wei Feng was the son of the wife, while he and Wei Wu were children of the woman before him. He’d had a little sister, too, but she died not long after birth.

Meeting his “birth mother” for the first time, Wei Ba felt awkward, but stepped forward and bowed. “Mother, I’m back.” Thankfully, Lady Deng was so pleased by his change that she didn’t notice his unease. Wiping her tears, she pulled him to a seat. “Oh, Ba’er, you’ve worried your mother sick! When I heard you were ill in Mianyang, my heart’s been in my throat ever since…”

Listening to his mother fret and fuss, Wei Ba couldn’t help thinking of his mother in another world. That poor woman, upon hearing news of her only son’s death—how grieved she must have been! The thought filled him with sorrow, his eyes reddening and tears slipping down his cheeks.

Wei Wu, seeing his brother and mother weeping, was puzzled. He turned away and started playing with the younger siblings gathered around them. A little girl, perhaps five or six, stood quietly nearby, watching for a while before pulling a handkerchief from her pocket. She walked up to Wei Ba, shyly raised the handkerchief and, standing on tiptoe, gently wiped the tears from his face. “Don’t cry, Brother,” she said softly, “Father says, ‘A real man bleeds, but does not cry.’”

Wei Ba was embarrassed by the little girl’s words. Hastily, he took the handkerchief, wiping his tears as he thanked her.

Seeing the little girl, Lady Deng’s tears welled up again. She choked, “Ah, my poor daughter—if she’d lived, she’d be as big as Lan’er now.”

“Auntie and Lan’er’s mother are good friends. Lan’er and Brother Ba and Brother Wu are good friends, too. Lan’er is also your daughter,” Lan’er said softly, reaching up to wipe Lady Deng’s tears. Lady Deng broke into a smile through her tears, hugged Lan’er tightly, and kissed her hard.

Now Wei Ba knew who the precocious little girl was. Her mother, Lady Li, was the most unfortunate of his father’s wives—she’d borne three children, but only Lan’er survived; both sons had died young. Of all his father’s wives, Lady Li was closest to his own mother, Lady Deng—one had only two sons, the other only a daughter. Lady Deng treated Lan’er as her own, and Lady Li saw her lost sons’ shadows in Wei Ba and Wei Wu.

Though Wei Wu had told him the names of his siblings, Wei Ba couldn’t match faces to names yet, so he dared not say much, only silently observing and memorizing the children’s faces and names. Looking at this large group of siblings, thinking of how, according to history, after Wei Yan’s death in a few years, these innocent children might all be executed or enslaved, fated to a numb, joyless life—he was chilled to the bone.

I cannot let that happen. Never. Wei Ba made a silent vow, then abruptly stood, saluted his mother, and said, “Mother, I have things to attend to—let me come back and talk to you later.”

Lady Deng, timid by nature, dared not delay important matters. “If you have things to do, go quickly—don’t let it wait. By the way, did you speak to Madam about your request?”

“I was just about to, Mother.”

“Oh, then be careful,” Lady Deng reminded him.

Wei Ba nodded. He’d already heard from Wei Wu that Wei Feng’s mother, his father’s principal wife, was surnamed Zhang, from a cadet branch of the Zhang clan of Nanyang, of even better birth than the Wei family. She always looked down on women of humble origins like Lady Deng and Lady Li. If not for the fact that most of her children after Wei Feng hadn’t survived infancy, his father might never have taken concubines at all. With Wei Yan away, she managed the estate—and if he wanted to mobilize resources and manpower, he needed her approval even with his father’s consent. Lady Deng’s reminder stemmed partly from her fear of Lady Zhang, and partly from the fact that Wei Ba had always been timid and useless, shrinking before Lady Zhang. Now, for the first time, he was going to act like a man. If he misspoke and angered Lady Zhang, it would not bode well.

Bidding farewell to his mother and siblings, Wei Ba, accompanied by Wei Wu, headed to the rear courtyard and stopped beneath the two-story building, where he immediately saw Steward Chen. Steward Chen looked embarrassed, explaining something to a plump-faced middle-aged man. Seeing Wei Ba enter, Steward Chen lowered his head in shame. “Young general…”

“Young general?” The other steward’s sparse brows shot up, feigning surprise. “Is Young Master Feng back? Where? I don’t see him.”

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