Chapter 42: Han Tang! Are you trying to bring total ruin upon the Han family?

Qingzhou, whose ancient name is Yidu.

Night had already fallen. Ordinary folk who knew the gates were about to close had either already entered, or—realizing they could not make it in time—remained on the road to spend the night at roadside inns, temples, and similar places.

Therefore, aside from a dozen yamen runners anxiously waiting for the evening curfew drum to sound so they could go off duty, the area around the city gates was populated only by the garrison troops who had arrived to take over the night shift.

Although the management of the city gates, such as tax collection, was primarily handled by the prefecture's yamen runners, the defense of the city gates remained the responsibility of the prefectural army.

Consequently, the runners and the garrison soldiers here were mostly very familiar with one another.

The gate official leading the runners glanced at the pitch-black, empty expanse outside the city, then turned to the leader of the garrison guards—who was likewise waiting for the evening drum to ring so the gates could be shut—and said:

"Captain Li, I don't see anyone else coming, and it's almost time. What do you think, shall we?"

The city gate captain, clad in iron armor, estimated the time of day and replied:

"There's probably still half an hour left. What, something the matter?"

"Magistrate Zhang is inviting us for drinks! He said he encountered something wonderful! Such a rare occasion—if we go late, we won't make it."

"Heh, that is indeed quite rare. Very well, go ahead. A mere fraction of an hour won't delay anyone."

Qingzhou was a prefectural capital, but because the prefecture and county shared the same walled city, Yidu County was established within Qingzhou as an attached jurisdiction, usually holding very little presence.

The county magistrate frequently fumed precisely because being the attached county was the most grueling assignment, so for him to announce that he had encountered something good and was treating his subordinates to drinks was exceedingly rare.

The city gate captain gave a grand wave of his hand and ordered:

"Close the gates!"

Amidst the creaking groans of the heavy city gates, the yamen runners watched with unconcealed joy as the leaves inched shut together.

Though just before the final gap closed, they caught a glimpse of torchlight flickering outside the gates.

Still, who cared? The gates were closed; if you failed to make it in time, it was your own damn fault!

As for being slightly off schedule, who would care about such a trifle?

"Ah, many thanks, many thanks! I'll bring you a jar of my family's homemade plum wine next time!"

"Think nothing of it, go on with you."

The city gate captain had also spotted the torchlight outside, and even noticed one figure rapidly sprinting toward the city gate, but he paid it no heed. After all, they were merely common folk.

The travels of the noble classes were visibly distinct from afar.

For instance, the most conspicuous tall steeds and carriages—even at night, they could be spotted from a great distance.

And this group? They were all just people running along carrying torches!

If you had ridden up here on horseback, he might have acknowledged it, but what use was running on your own two feet?

So, if you missed the opening, you could just huddle outside the city walls for the night and wait for the morning drum.

To their surprise, however, the two men had barely exchanged a few pleasantries when they heard the city gates being battered fiercely:

"The evening drum has not yet sounded! Why are the gates closed? Open them at once!"

Both the city gate captain and the gate official wore looks of utter annoyance.

"What do you mean it hasn't sounded? I say it has, so it has! Wait obediently outside! Otherwise, don't blame me for treating you as bandits and giving you a taste of the whip!"

Silence hung outside for a brief moment. Clearly unaccustomed to such insolence from low-ranking clerks, an enraged voice shouted:

"Audacious! The person you are barring is Lady Han, wife of Lady Xianyin of Wutong, personally enfeoffed by His Majesty! How dare you humiliate a noble of my Han clan? Do you wish to lose your heads?"

At these words, the city gate captain, the gate official, the yamen runners, and even the garrison soldiers atop the city wall all turned deathly pale.

The Han clan of Han Tang? Wasn't that the beloved granddaughter of His Excellency the Secretariat Scribe?

Wait, why on earth was a person of such noble status traveling on foot?

After hastily throwing open the gates, the last shred of hope vanished for the captain and the official—it truly was someone from the Han family!

Without another word, the two hurriedly dropped to their knees on either side of the road, leading the yamen runners and garrison soldiers down with them.

Once two maidservants had supported a pale-faced Han Tang past them,

the two men—expecting a lightning bolt of wrath to strike—instead heard her utter a harsh, low reprimand while cold sweat streamed down their faces:

"I am on urgent business now and have no time to punish you, so slap your own faces! But if this delays the foundation of my Han clan, I will have your heads!"

With that, she continued on toward the Han estate without a moment's pause.

As for the city gate captain and the others, they didn't even wait for Han Tang to walk far before they began frantically slapping their own faces as if granted a grand amnesty.

"My lady, you need not be so anxious; nothing will go wrong, surely!"

The maidservants at her side coaxed in low tones.

Yet Han Tang flew into a towering rage:

"This concerns the very future foundation of my Han clan! What do you know!"

Daring not to speak further, the maidservants lowered their heads and hastily supported Han Tang as she pressed onward.

The guards remained silent, though they cast sympathetic glances at the maidservants, who—despite being raised in pampered luxury—had followed their mistress through the mountains and rivers, enduring an entire cycle of exhaustion.

Their lady was indeed far too anxious. The Mountain Deity in person had given consent, and the Daoist priest had personally built the bridge; how could anything possibly go amiss?

Han Tang was well aware of their thoughts, but an inexplicable panic plagued her heart.

She felt as though, without her knowing, she was about to slip away from this monumental stroke of destiny.

Therefore, ever since leaving the shrine last night, she had not dared to rest for even a moment, measuring the mountains with her own feet before marching on foot toward Qingzhou.

During the journey, both to show her sincerity and to quell that nameless dread,

she had abstained from food and water entirely.

This had indeed bought her a fleeting moment of peace and the fastest possible travel time.

Yet, for some reason, the moment she saw the city gates shut in her face,

she suddenly felt as though the heavens were collapsing!

"Hurry, help me home! I... I must see my father!"

The unease in her chest grew increasingly dense. Aside from urging everyone to quicken their pace, Han Tang could only repeat incessantly to herself:

*Nothing will go wrong, nothing will go wrong, absolutely nothing!*

The main gates of the Han estate were pounded open by a guard who had raced ahead.

Servants had already rushed to the entrance to prepare to welcome Han Tang.

Facing them, Han Tang could not spare even a glance, instead seizing the steward who stepped forward to greet her:

"Uncle, is my father at home? How many of our elders are still in the mansion?"

In great aristocratic families, stewards were most often either brilliant scholars from humble backgrounds, retired middle-to-low-ranking officials who served as figureheads, or relatives of the clan like this one.

"They are in. When your father heard you had returned, he went to the ancestral hall and has been waiting for you to offer incense to the ancestors. Your mother and your second aunt are there as well."

"As for the clan elders, why do you ask this? And niece, are you quite well? You look rather dreadful. Shall I have a physician summoned for you?"

Only hearing the first part, Han Tang said with ecstatic joy:

"Quickly, Uncle, call all the elders to the ancestral hall at once!"

"At this hour? And niece, what are you trying to do? You are a junior; it is one thing not to pay respects to the clan elders, but why summon them here in the middle of the night?"

With that, his expression shifted abruptly:

"Has something happened?"

"Time is pressing, Uncle, don't ask any more questions! Go quickly and summon them, tell them it concerns a matter of life-and-death importance to the foundation of the Han clan!"

The man looked closely at Han Tang for a moment and said:

"Han Tang, do you speak the truth?"

Dropping the endearment of "niece," he addressed her formally by name.

"Naturally!"

Without asking further, he cupped his fists and strode off to notify the others.

By the time the elders of the Han clan had arrived one after another at the ancestral hall,

one of the senior elders finally asked:

"Tang'er, what has happened?"

Supported by her mother, Han Tang sat down in a pear-wood armchair, her fingertips still retaining the warmth of the ginseng tea she had barely managed to swallow. She had practically been half-carried into the ancestral hall by her maids.

Yet, though the dark bruises beneath her eyes had scarcely faded, Han Tang could not afford rest.

Taking a deep breath amidst the varied gazes of the elders filling the room, she suddenly rose, walked to the center of the hall, and dropped to her knees in a full prostration before the gathered elders and her own family:

"Last night, Tang'er lodged at the mountain shrine outside the city. Unexpectedly, we were set upon by evil spirits. Fortunately, an immortal master rescued us and moved the Mountain Deity to manifest his sacred presence, thereby preserving our lives."

"Furthermore, favored by the heavenly protection of our Han clan's founding ancestors, the immortal master—mindful of our clan's centuries of loyalty—has personally laid the bridge of destiny for us!"

At this, she pressed her forehead harder against the floor, her unkempt locks falling loose from the hasty journey:

"The Mountain Deity has consented to let our Han clan rebuild his temple and recast his golden statue, so that generation after generation may offer sacrifices in the days to come. Surely, we shall win the deity's protection and secure the prosperity and everlasting foundation of the Han clan's descendants!"

Inside the ancestral hall, a pin-drop silence fell instantly. Amidst the curling wisps of sandalwood smoke, the furrowed brows of the elders slowly tightened. Some unconsciously massaged the jade pendants at their waists, while others tapped their fingers lightly against the edge of the offering table.

Several uncles and brothers exchanged glances, their pupils reflecting shifting, unsettled light.

After a long while, Han Tang heard a sentence filled with utter despair:

"Tang'er—no, Han Tang! When you speak thus, do you wish to see our Han clan utterly exterminated?"