Chapter 9: Tears and Truths—Mother and Daughter at Spoon Lake

Previously, we left off with Xiaoling hurrying over with a handkerchief. The young lady took it, gently wiping away the tears from the corners of her eyes. She gazed at the kind and gentle Lady Huo, and suddenly, breaking free from her embrace, fell to her knees with a resounding thud, refusing to rise.

“Min’er, get up at once! What are you doing?” Lady Huo exclaimed.

“Mother, your daughter has been unfilial,” she replied.

“Why do you say that?” Lady Huo was at a loss.

“I have deceived you all.”

“Oh? Tell me the truth, then.” Lady Huo finally understood.

“My true name is Li Wanting. My father was once a high-ranking official at court, always at odds with the powerful eunuch, Yan Song. Not long ago, Yan Song falsely accused my father of plotting rebellion. The Eastern Depot received a secret execution order. That night, under the cover of darkness and wind, Yan Song himself oversaw the attack on our home. They killed everyone in sight. My father had just stepped out of his study when he was struck down by a volley of arrows and died instantly. My mother, terrified, tried to escape with my younger brother through the side door. But that fiend Yan Song cut her down with a single stroke, and she could only watch helplessly as my brother was slain before her eyes. In less than the time it takes for half a stick of incense to burn, the Li residence was awash in blood—a living hell on earth.”

Zhao Min recounted these unspeakable horrors in sobs and tears, and Lady Huo’s hair stood on end just listening to her.

“Child, get up. You will always be my daughter. Here, no one will ever harm you. If anyone dares, I will fight them to the death,” Lady Huo said fiercely.

Master Huo, who had come to the guest quarters seeking his wife, overheard the conversation between the two women. He strode in, moved by what he heard. “Your father is Lord Li Haiping, isn’t he?”

“Father, Li Haiping is indeed my birth father,” Li Wanting replied, hastily composing herself as she choked back her grief.

“Lord Li was a rare and upright official. I met him twice and held his character in the highest esteem. What a heartbreaking loss.” Master Huo paused, then shifted his tone. “But tell me, how did you escape the massacre?”

His question drew Wanting back into her memories. “That afternoon, I happened to visit a friend in the countryside. Her family insisted I stay for dinner, and it was late when a servant escorted me home. As I returned, I saw Yan Song leading troops in a bloodbath at my home. I witnessed my parents and brother lying in pools of blood. My heart was torn asunder, and I wanted to die with them. But I thought, if I perished too, there would be no one left to seek justice for the Li family. So I fled the house, made my way to the canal, and, utterly exhausted, collapsed in the night rain…”

As she recounted her pain, Lady Huo held Wanting tightly in her arms, her delicate shoulders shaking with grief.

“Don’t cry, it’s all in the past. Your parents will protect you from the heavens above,” Lady Huo whispered, gently patting her foster daughter’s back.

Original serial novel: The Scholar-General Against the Wokou Pirates

“Corrupt eunuchs have long held sway at court, but who would have thought Lord Li would meet such an unjust end?” Master Huo ground his teeth in anger, hating his own powerlessness.

That night was destined to be sleepless. Lady Huo watched as her daughter finally drifted off in her arms. She dared not move, signaling Xiaoling to help her gently carry the young lady to bed.

Yet, even in sleep, Wanting’s hand clung tightly to Lady Huo, refusing to let go. Lady Huo instructed Xiaoling to inform Master Huo that she would stay with her daughter that night.

When Li Wanting awoke the next day, she found Lady Huo lying beside her. Remembering the events of the previous night, her heart overflowed with gratitude.

The morning in Shanyang County unfolded as usual. Master Huo sat in the side hall, sipping tea and reading. Suddenly, a series of drumbeats sounded outside—quick, urgent, and growing ever more insistent. Master Huo was startled; it had been ages since the drums had sounded so, and he sensed something momentous was afoot, though what it might be, he could not guess.

He straightened his attire and walked to the main hall. The yamen runners stood in ordered rows on either side, giving the scene an unusual gravity. The secretary sat to one side, gazing toward the courtyard.

Meanwhile, Lady Huo, accompanied by her daughter and the maid, slipped out the back door. They headed straight toward the direction of Ladle Lake. The sun was merciless, sending up clouds of dust from the ground. The cicadas in the tall willows droned incessantly, adding to the oppressive heat. Fortunately, a hint of breeze stirred the air. The three women shielded themselves from the sun with fans and hurried along in the shade.

People hurried through the streets, and now and then a private sedan chair passed by—those must surely belong to wealthy merchants of Shanyang County.

“Make way! Make way!” Suddenly, the clang of a gong rang out. An official sedan, resplendent and imposing, came into view. Two men in front held square placards reading “Clear the way” and “Silence.” From the plaque at the rear, bearing the characters for “Canal Transport,” it was clear the official in question was from the Canal Transport Office.

“Mother, are there officials in Shanyang higher than Father?” the young lady asked.

“Oh yes, that one certainly is. The Grand Administrator of Canal Transport holds great authority,” Lady Huo replied, pointing at the passing sedan.

“Where is the Canal Transport Office located?” the young lady pressed.

“Across from the Drum Tower.”

“And where is the Drum Tower?” she asked, still puzzled.

“Madam, let me explain it to Miss,” Xiaoling interjected, seeing her mistress growing more confused.

“You quick-tongued girl, go ahead,” Lady Huo replied without annoyance.

With Xiaoling’s explanation, the young lady finally understood. The Zhenhuai Tower in Huai’an, known locally as the Drum Tower, stood at the center of Shanyang County. It was a symbolic structure of the ancient city, first built in the Northern Song Dynasty over three hundred years ago. The Zhenhuai Tower, made of brick and wood, was a fortress-like, two-story building with a base platform and a central city gate. The upper story was a two-tiered pavilion. The entire structure stood 18.5 meters high, 36 meters long from east to west, and 26 meters wide from north to south—its form both beautiful and imposing.

“If you’d spoken sooner, daughter, I would have taken you there first,” Lady Huo said with a gentle smile. “Next time, perhaps.”

“All right, Mother,” the young lady replied.

Only later did Li Wanting gradually learn that Huai’an was a city rich in history and culture. In the Qin and Han dynasties, its northwest belonged to Huaiyin County, its southeast to Sheyang County. In the Eastern Jin, Shanyang County was established as the seat of Shanyang Commandery. Because the city lies south of Bochi Mountain, it was named Shanyang County. After the founding of the Ming dynasty, the Yuan-era Huai’an Route was changed to Huai’an Prefecture, with its seat in Shanyang County. Four military garrisons were stationed here: Huai’an, Dahe, Kuanzhou, and Pizhou. Dahe Garrison was based in Xincheng, while Kuanzhou and Pizhou Garrisons later moved elsewhere.

The site of the Huai’an Prefecture government was a prized location, dominating the heart of the city, its layout comparable to an imperial palace.

As one of the cradles of ancient Jianghuai culture and a nationally renowned historic city, Huai’an was once a thriving center of commerce and prosperity, serving as the seat of commandery, prefecture, circuit, and later, prefectural administration. It was a major political, economic, and cultural hub in the Jianghuai region, and along with Suzhou, Hangzhou, and Yangzhou, was known as one of the “Four Great Cities” along the Grand Canal.

“Look, a pagoda!” Li Wanting exclaimed as the three arrived at Ladle Lake Park, the ancient and solemn Wentong Pagoda coming into view. Though she had been in Shanyang for half a month, this was her first time witnessing the pagoda in person.

According to the park official’s explanation, the young lady learned that Wentong Pagoda was formerly called Zunsheng Pagoda, also known as Wenfeng Pagoda. It stood at the northwest corner of the city, beside the Grand Canal, first built in the second year of the Eastern Jin’s Daxing era (319 AD) and repaired many times since.

Wentong Pagoda was a traditional Buddhist structure, entirely brick-built and without beams or columns. It stands seven stories tall, octagonal in shape, with no doors on the sixth and seventh floors, and a hollow interior. The upper five stories have a domed brick ceiling, topped with an octagonal caisson. The pagoda is about 23 meters high, its parabolic silhouette particularly elegant.

The three of them climbed the winding stairs, marveling at the unique design. Standing atop the pagoda, a cool breeze caressed them as Li Wanting gazed out the window, taking in the emerald waters of Ladle Lake below. For the first time since losing her family, she stood at this new vantage point, seeing Shanyang anew. Ladle Lake, though not as vast as the northern seas, was clear and sparkling. As the hub between north and south, it embodied the best of both northern and southern gardens.

The Ladle Lake Scenic Area was renowned for its historical and cultural sites—its pavilions and corridors, limpid waters, and numerous historic buildings and monuments rivaled the finest gardens south of the Yangtze.

Within the park, the blue sky reflected in the jade waters of the lake. Bridges stretched across the water like dreams, and elegant painted barges, winding corridors, pavilions, and towers intermingled with the stone steles of the monument garden, creating a landscape of endless charm.

The soaring Wentong Pagoda, the winding lakeside paths, the Well of the Compassionate Mother, the stone statues of civil and military officials, the Great Bell of Jin Tiande, and the old site of the Hall of Great Compassion on the lake’s central island—all these left visitors reluctant to depart.

After visiting Wentong Pagoda, Lady Huo accompanied her daughter along the lakeside paths, where the willows reached out their graceful, welcoming arms to all who came.

“Come, let’s go for a boat ride.”

What happens next? Let us await the next chapter.