The lacquered doors of the Lu family's main hall loomed like the gate of judgment.Lu Ming stood before them, his pulse steady, his breath quiet.
This time, I won't waste it. This time, I'll walk in as a son, not as a careless boy.
He pushed the doors open and stepped into the hall.
Inside, the air was heavy. His father, Lu Heng, sat upright at the head of the hall in full court robes, his broad frame and grizzled beard giving him the presence of a mountain. Beside him, his mother, Lady Yuan, sat poised, her eyes calm but sharp as a falcon's.
"You still know how to return home, boy?" Lu Heng's voice thundered the moment Lu Ming entered. The sound echoed against the pillars, each word heavy with restrained fury. "A whole night spent in a brothel, wallowing like a wastrel while your brother is drilling at dawn with sword and spear!"
In his second life, Lu Ming would have winced, maybe tried to argue, maybe slink away with resentment simmering in his chest.But this time, he stepped forward, clasped his hands, and bowed deeply to the ground.
"Father. Mother. This son was wrong."
The hall fell silent.
Lu Heng blinked. He had been prepared for excuses, whining, perhaps even defiance. But never this—never his arrogant second son prostrating himself without complaint.
"You—wrong?" Lu Heng leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. "You admit it?"
"Yes." Lu Ming raised his head, voice steady though his forehead touched the floor. "This son was reckless. I shamed the Lu family name. I worried you both."He paused, a faint tightness catching in his throat. "I never realized how much you cared for me, how much weight my actions placed on your shoulders. For that, I beg forgiveness."
Lady Yuan's brows lifted slightly. Her lips curved—not into a smile, but into something softer, a subtle shift only a mother could make when her child surprised her.
But Lu Heng's fists tightened on the armrest. "Care? You think this is about care?" he barked, though his voice had lost some of its edge. "A man who shames his family, who chases skirts while the empire trembles, deserves no care! You are weak, Ming'er. Weaker than your elder brother. While Lu Xian hardens himself for war, you crawl among perfumed sheets!"
The words cut deep, though not unfairly. Lu Ming remembered too well the bitter truth of his wasted second life.
"I understand," he said quietly. "That is why I will accept Father's punishment."
Lu Heng sat back in surprise. He had prepared a storm of words to break his son's resistance. Instead, the boy surrendered like a calm river absorbing stone.
"Good," Lu Heng growled after a pause. "Then hear your punishment: tomorrow, you will be sent to the militia. No silk robes, no courtesans, no servants to coddle you. You will sweat, bleed, and learn what it means to be a man."
Lu Ming bowed again, the corners of his lips twitching in a ghost of a smile. Militia? Perfect. I'll harden this body before the storm arrives.
Lady Yuan's voice slid into the hall then, smooth but edged. "Husband, is that not too harsh? A night's foolishness, nothing more. Must you send him to drill with peasants as if he were a criminal?"
Lu Heng's beard bristled. "Woman, do you call weakness a trifle? Do you know what sort of empire we live in? Bandits rise, eunuchs pull strings, the Yellow Turbans spread their poison. When war breaks, will soft hands and brothel skills save him? A man must be strong, unyielding, not—" He caught himself, too late. "—not weakened by women."
The hall froze.
Lady Yuan turned her head slowly, her gaze narrowing to a blade's edge.
Lu Heng cleared his throat, color rising under his beard. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, very aware of the concubines waiting in the side courtyard—gifts pressed upon him by fellow officers and ministers.
"Er… I meant… courtesans, not respectable women," he muttered quickly. "Not—of course not you, wife."
Lady Yuan arched one perfect brow. Her silence was more lethal than a hundred soldiers.
Lu Heng coughed again and waved his hand as if batting away smoke. "The point stands! The boy will go to the militia."
Lu Ming, kneeling still, hid the warmth rising in his chest behind his bowed head.He had never noticed before—the way his father's bluster crumbled before his mother's calm, the way she silently held the reins of the household. In his past life, he'd been blind, wrapped in his own arrogance.
Now, even under scolding and punishment, he felt something strange: comfort.
This time… I won't let them down.
The heavy silence lingered after Lu Heng's final decree.
Lu Ming remained kneeling, his forehead pressed to the polished wood. Then, with slow deliberation, he raised his head. His gaze did not waver when it met his father's stern eyes.
"Father."
"What now? Do you mean to argue after all?" Lu Heng's voice was rough, though the bluster had thinned.
"I do not argue." Lu Ming straightened, his posture calm. "I accept Father's punishment. I will join the militia."
A flicker of surprise crossed Lu Heng's features. The boy who once sulked and rebelled was gone. The one before him looked steady, sharp.
"But…" Lu Ming continued, his voice measured, "before I go, I ask for training. I wish to drill under Guard Yunliang's hand for a short time. A week or two of sword and body practice, to strengthen myself. If I march into the militia weak as I am now, I will only disgrace the Lu name further."
Lu Heng narrowed his eyes. "Training? You ask for leniency disguised as diligence. Do you think I cannot see through it? You mean to delay your punishment."
"No." Lu Ming bowed his head again. "I mean to prepare for it. If Father commands, I will march to the barracks tonight. But if I go unready, I will waste the chance to prove myself. Let me harden my body, sharpen my sword-hand, so that when I stand among soldiers, I will not be the laughingstock of Luoyang."
The words rang with quiet conviction.
For a long moment, only the faint hiss of the brazier filled the hall.
Lady Yuan spoke first, her voice like silk gliding over steel. "Why not test him, Husband? Let Yunliang drill him. If he shirks, if he collapses, then send him off without delay. But if he holds true… would it not honor the Lu family more to send a son prepared than a son broken?"
Lu Heng stroked his beard, glaring at his wife, then at his son. He felt cornered, but not entirely unwilling. His instincts told him the boy's eyes burned differently tonight—too sharp, too steady. It was unsettling.
He jabbed a finger at Lu Ming. "You will rise before dawn. You will sweat, bleed, and curse under Yunliang's training. If you falter, even once, you march to the militia that very day. Do you hear me?"
"Yes, Father." Lu Ming bowed low, gratitude swelling in his chest.
"Do not thank me yet." Lu Heng snorted. "This is no favor. This is a chance to prove you are not the spoiled brat you've been. Fail me, and you'll wish the militia was the only punishment."
Lu Ming lifted his head, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles. "I won't fail."
He rose, his movements crisp, and backed away from the hall. His footsteps echoed, steady and unhurried.
Only once the doors shut behind him did Lu Heng exhale, shoulders loosening slightly. He muttered to himself, "That boy… what got into him? His eyes—"
"Sharp, like a soldier's." Lady Yuan finished, her gaze lingering on the closed doors. "He looked at you as if he had already seen battles you have not. I do not know if I should be proud… or unsettled."
Lu Heng grunted. "People don't change overnight. He plays a trick. I'll see through it soon enough."
"Or," Lady Yuan countered softly, "he is no longer the same child you knew yesterday. Sometimes, the heavens forge a man in silence."
Lu Heng shifted uneasily. He didn't like her tone, the way it carried something beyond understanding. He preferred swords and shields, things he could grasp with his hands. His wife, with her Yuan-blood cunning, often spoke of matters like fate and omens.
He leaned back in his seat. "Hmph. Whether fate or trick, the boy will prove it in the courtyard. Yunliang will know."
At that cue, a shadow stirred near the pillars, and Zhao Yunliang stepped forward. Tall, broad-shouldered, scar cutting across his brow, the veteran guard bowed low.
"My lord. My lady."
Lady Yuan inclined her head. "You heard?"
"Yes. The young master requests training. I will rise him with the sun. Sword, shield, and sweat. He will learn discipline, or he will collapse." Yunliang's voice was iron, the kind only a soldier who had bled for his master could possess.
Lu Heng nodded gruffly. "Do not go easy. If he wants to play at diligence, break him of it. Better he vomit blood under your hand than die like a coward in the field."
Yunliang's lips twitched—the ghost of a smile. "Understood."
Lady Yuan's eyes softened faintly. "Do not break him too far, Yunliang. If he truly means to change, he will need his strength. I will trust you to judge the line."
"As you command, my lady." Yunliang bowed again, then withdrew, his heavy steps fading beyond the hall.
Silence lingered once more. Husband and wife sat side by side, but their thoughts traveled different roads.
"He seemed… older." Lady Yuan spoke at last, her fingers trailing the rim of her tea cup. "As though he carried years within him."
Lu Heng scoffed, though less certain than before. "Nonsense. He's still just a boy." He looked toward the door, his voice dropping low. "But if he truly means it… perhaps he won't shame us after all."
Lady Yuan's lips curved faintly. "Perhaps."
The doors to the main hall closed behind Lu Ming, and his steady footsteps faded into the courtyard.
Lu Heng sat stiffly in his seat, arms folded, his brows drawn as if a shadow clung to his face. He did not speak for a long while, as though turning over the image of his son kneeling there moments before.
Lady Yuan was the first to break the silence.
"Well?" she asked, her voice low and even, though the faintest curl of amusement touched her lips.
"Well, what?" Lu Heng growled, but the sound lacked its earlier fire.
"You glared at him as though you expected defiance. Instead, he yielded, yet not weakly. Tell me, Husband—did that boy sound like the same Lu Ming who yesterday skipped training to drink and idle in the city?"
Lu Heng rubbed his beard. "No. His eyes…" He paused, uncomfortable at his own words. "They were not the eyes of a frivolous child. They burned like a man who has already bled and lived through fire. But that is impossible."
"Impossible things happen more often than you think." Lady Yuan's tone carried a touch of mystery. Her Yuan blood made her sharper than most; she had seen how quickly fortune could turn in the courts of Runan. "Perhaps some hardship outside our sight woke him to sense. Or perhaps…" She tilted her head, her gaze thoughtful. "Perhaps Heaven stirs his heart."
Lu Heng snorted. "Heaven? Hah! Heaven does not waste miracles on drunkards who tumble with courtesans their first night out. If the gods have time for such things, then I am the Emperor."
Lady Yuan smiled faintly, but said nothing further on the matter. She had long ago learned not to debate omens with her husband.
Instead, she shifted the topic. "Speaking of courtesans…" She glanced toward the shadows near the doorway. "Yunliang. Step forward."
The loyal guard entered once more, bowing deeply. His armor creaked faintly, and the scar across his brow caught the light of the lanterns.
"My lady," Yunliang rumbled.
"You kept watch on the brothel last night," Lady Yuan said. "Tell us of the girl."
Yunliang inclined his head. "Her name is Zhao Lingqi. Sixteen years of age. Known in Luoyang's entertainment quarter for her talent with zither and poetry. She is clean—no stains of theft or scandal. Her performances alone have drawn crowds to the House of Blossoms, earning the madam a small fortune. Guests compete for her smile, though until last night she had not chosen a patron."
Lady Yuan arched a brow. "Not chosen… until my son."
"Correct," Yunliang said. "The madam admitted it was Lingqi herself who insisted. By all accounts, she rejected gifts and advances from others—among them, Minister of Works Zhao Yanzhi's second son, Zhao Cheng, a notorious libertine. He has ruined daughters of lesser houses before. Rumors also speak of an eunuch from the palace taking interest. Both men quarreled in the streets weeks ago over her, and blades were drawn before the watch intervened."
Lu Heng's face darkened. "So my son has wandered straight into the fire pit of a power struggle."
Yunliang nodded. "It seems so. Yet… the girl herself, from what I gathered speaking to servants, grew increasingly despondent at being hunted by wolves. She told the madam she would rather choose once, even rashly, than be devoured by lechers. Last night, Young Master Ming was celebrating a friend's birthday there. By chance, she set her eyes on him and decided."
Lady Yuan's lips curved in satisfaction. "Then she has some judgment. My son may be reckless, but at least she did not choose a hollow reed. A courtesan who values her choice has more dignity than half the women kept in silk cages."
Lu Heng glared. "You sound as though you approve. You would have him bound to a brothel girl?"
"A girl of talent and will," Lady Yuan countered smoothly. "Better than those painted vultures who circle noble sons only for wealth. Did you not hear? She spurned a minister's son and a palace eunuch. She is not without courage."
Lu Heng opened his mouth to retort, but the words caught. He thought of the concubines that littered his own household, women gifted by officials hoping to curry favor. He did not dare meet his wife's eyes.
Lady Yuan leaned back, sipping her tea, her expression deceptively mild. "And tell me, Husband—are the women under your roof of finer breeding than this Zhao Lingqi?"
Lu Heng coughed into his fist, his face stiff. "That… was politics. Friendships must be maintained, and—"
Lady Yuan's gaze sharpened, and Lu Heng faltered at once, clearing his throat with exaggerated force.
Yunliang wisely kept his head bowed.
After a tense pause, Lady Yuan set her cup down. "Regardless, Ming has already claimed her for himself. The madam confirmed he declared Zhao Lingqi would serve only him henceforth. That alone shields her from being dragged to some eunuch's bedchamber."
Lu Heng scowled. "Shields? Or paints a target on his back? Zhao Cheng will not take kindly to being robbed, nor will a palace dog."
"Let them come," Lady Yuan said simply. "A son of Lu Heng does not cower before spoiled brats or gelded parasites."
For once, Lu Heng found no argument. Pride swelled despite himself.
Lady Yuan tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I would like to meet this Zhao Lingqi myself. Perhaps bring her closer to our household. If she has sense and skill, she might be molded into something more than a courtesan. Ming may yet need such loyalty beside him."
Lu Heng groaned. "You mean to give him a woman so soon? He has barely grown hair on his chin!"
"And yet you were proud enough when he snuck into battle drills at fourteen," Lady Yuan said dryly. "Do not play the cautious father now, Husband. You and I both know: men are shaped by what they fight for. If this girl anchors him, then let her."
Lu Heng muttered something about wives and storms under his breath, wisely too low for her to hear.
Yunliang, silent until now, finally spoke again. "My lord, my lady. If I may. The young master's eyes this morning… I have seen soldiers with that look. Not green recruits, but men who return from war with blood still wet on their hands. I do not know how or why—but when he spoke, it was as if he had already lived through battles."
The hall fell into silence.
Lady Yuan's gaze softened, unreadable, as though she too wondered at the mystery.
Lu Heng gripped the arm of his chair until the wood creaked. "Hmph. Whether demon, dream, or destiny, I will not raise a weakling. If he falters, I cast him out myself."
Lady Yuan's smile was serene, her words a whisper. "He will not falter."