Chapter Seventeen: About Father

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Jiang Zhuo had no memories of his mother since childhood. Jiang Dun told him that his mother had unfortunately passed away during childbirth. "Did I cause mother’s death?" Jiang Dun tenderly stroked Jiang Zhuo’s hair, patiently explaining, "No. Everyone has their own fate in this world. As long as you never intended to harm your mother, then her death was not caused by you."

“Yao Yao” was Jiang Zhuo’s childhood name.

Like the blossoming peach tree, radiant and flourishing.

Jiang Zhuo was born weak and barely clung to life. Jiang Dun searched far and wide for remedies, and finally, following a suggestion from a shaman, he found a century-old peach blossom tree at White Horse Temple to adopt as a symbolic mother.

This was the origin of Jiang Zhuo’s name.

But why was it that he had neither a mother nor an uncle, no maidservants, no maternal grandparents, nor any maternal relatives?

Jiang Zhuo was naturally curious from a young age. Whenever he asked questions, Jiang Dun would answer patiently.

Jiang Zhuo’s maternal grandfather’s family was small, and his mother was the cherished only daughter of his maternal grandparents. Jiang Dun explained it like this.

“What do you mean by ‘also’?” Jiang Zhuo, who was still in the midst of losing his baby teeth and struggled to speak clearly, pressed on inquisitively, “Who else was a cherished only daughter?”

“There’s also you, Yao Yao,” Jiang Dun lifted the small child in his hands and smiled, “You are your father’s only daughter, cherished and protected as if you might fall or melt away.”

“But the wet nurse and the maids say that when father was young and his career was flourishing, he would surely marry again, and Yao Yao would have many brothers and sisters.”

“No, your father will not marry again. Having you, his daughter, is enough.”

Jiang Dun caressed Jiang Zhuo, who was still smaller than his own thigh, and made the promise.

Jiang Zhuo pouted, not feeling happy.

If his maternal grandfather’s family was so small, what about his father’s clan?

During every festival, the Jiang household had very few relatives who came to visit.

Jiang Zhuo felt lonely.

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When Jiang Zhuo was about nine years old, he finally understood why the Jiang family had so few relatives.

Jiang Dun did not favor promoting his own clan’s young men; sometimes, when a family member advanced too quickly, he would even suppress them.

His father feared accusations of nepotism.

“There’s a saying that when one person succeeds, even the chickens and dogs rise with them. But your father’s rise was like a swift ascension by fire.”

When Jiang Dun was promoted for the third time, Jiang Zhuo was just beginning to learn to read and recite, delighting in showing off his newly learned idioms.

“Better a whole family crying than a whole road weeping,” Jiang Dun twirled his beard gently. “If I were to block truly talented people from rising for the sake of the Jiang family, that would be a misfortune for our house.”

“But what if the cousins at home are truly talented?” Jiang Zhuo continued curiously. “Wouldn’t father then be burying rare talents in the court?”

“Talented people would not follow my path,” Jiang Dun laughed. “Besides, jade must be polished to become a gem. Talents need to be honed; the more polished, the brighter they shine. I, Jiang Dun, am willing to be their whetstone.”

“Then will Yao Yao be polished too?”

“You are not jade, Yao Yao. You are a little peach blossom spirit born from the peach tree. All you need to do is stay by your father’s side.”

Jiang Zhuo did not understand but nodded naively.

When Jiang Zhuo was ten, a matchmaker came to the mansion.

She was the sister of the Minister of Personnel and had taken a liking to Jiang Dun.

“…The Hanlin Academy produces many talents, and many scholars have advanced rapidly—rare in this dynasty—but if you want to rise further, you’ll need the help of your clan.”

Jiang Zhuo and the maids overheard this and tried to listen in, pushing and jostling until they accidentally opened the door.

Jiang Zhuo, pressed at the bottom, was scared of being scolded and began to cry preemptively.

“Father—Yao Yao hurts—”

Jiang Dun sighed, helped the sobbing Jiang Zhuo up, and dusted off the dirt.

“This must be Master Jiang’s daughter, truly a delicate and lovely little one,” the matchmaker crouched down, smiling, “Miss Wei is gentle and virtuous and loves children greatly. Even if Master Jiang does not consider himself, he should find a mother for Miss Jiang to care for her.”

“No need,” Jiang Dun said coldly. “My daughter has me to care for her.”

When Jiang Zhuo was twelve, at a banquet, he fell in love at first sight with Prince Zhao Mingjing and declared he would marry no one else.

From then on, Jiang Zhuo sought favor with his father to learn of the prince’s preferences and whereabouts.

When Jiang Zhuo learned that Prince Zhao favored gentle, talented women, he stopped wearing bright red robes and began studying poetry, literature, and music diligently.

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“What do you like about Prince Zhao?”

Watching Jiang Zhuo dozing while reading, Jiang Dun could not help but ask.

“Prince Zhao has a noble status and treats others with kindness and courtesy.” Just waking up, Jiang Zhuo was still groggy but used what little brainpower he had to think, “The ladies always say Prince Zhao is wonderful, and only the best in the capital deserve him. If I marry him, I’ll surely surprise them all!”

“Prince Zhao is a royal son. Even if he does not ascend the throne, he will have many wives and concubines. What will you do then?”

“Though there may be many concubines, there is only one main wife,” Jiang Zhuo tilted his head, a little slow to understand, “Isn’t it better to have many sisters in the harem? It would be lively and fun.”

Jiang Dun sighed and said no more.

As Jiang Zhuo grew older, he met Shen Guanzhi and began to indulge in the noble ladies’ banquets of the capital.

Jiang Zhuo’s sources of information widened. When he first learned that his father firmly opposed making Prince Zhao the crown prince, he angrily confronted Jiang Dun.

“Prince Zhao may be gentle and elegant, but he lacks decisiveness and his own opinions. Such a temperament would lead him to believe slander from villains if he became ruler. He is not a good choice.”

“But father! How do you expect Prince Zhao to view your daughter then?”

Jiang Zhuo felt deeply wronged.

“If Prince Zhao truly loves you, he will not treat you poorly because of me,” Jiang Dun said calmly, still absorbed in his official documents. “Likewise, if an unfit prince ascends the throne, even if I do nothing, even if you marry Prince Zhao one day, you will still be dragged down.”

Jiang Zhuo, still young, did not understand and only cried, hoping his father would relent as he had in the past and soothe him.

“Zhuo, one day you will understand. The hardest thing between people is not power or status, but sincerity. I do not ask you to marry into a noble family of lords and ministers; I only wish for your lifelong peace.”

How could that be?

Prince Zhao was not only gentle and courteous, but he still had no wife or concubines.

Unlike the Marquis of Wuwei, who, despite overwhelming power, was a notorious womanizer and thus not favored by noble ladies.

To be accepted by all was proof that beyond power and status, Prince Zhao’s character was truly precious. How could he not be sincere?

Jiang Zhuo did not understand then.

But many years later, he realized it was from that moment his father stopped calling him by his childhood name, and their relationship began to grow distant.