The clatter of hooves and the jingling harnesses of the four horsemen who rode slightly ahead, signalled the arrival of the entourage. They carried heavily embroidered banners with bold characters and a family crest etched into it. Behind them, two men flanked the main carriage. They were tall and able-bodied, walking with light footsteps despite the shafted swords held tightly in their grasp. Both wore lightly armoured clothing and the steady expressions of disciplined guards.
A secondary attendant carriage followed close behind, reined along by a steward; but most noticeably surrounding the two carriages, were six household servants holding heavy chests.
Not too far away, a gatekeeper caught sight of the crest on the banners, immediately falling to one knee. A moment later, the bronze chime at the gates tolled once, low and steady and the carriage halted with a low groan of timber. The tall vermillion doors opened, and guards stepped forward to receive the reins. Out of sight, a young runner darted through the outer courtyard, breathless, he quietly shouted for the gatemen.
The gentle sunlight shone brightly, spilling over the parasol shading the emblem on the main carriage. Dust settled, and the gilt tassels at the corners of the canopy swayed once before going still. No sound came from within the carriage, only the faint creak of leather as someone inside shifted.
A gloved hand brushed the curtain aside and out stepped an aged man. The spring sunlight stroked the edge of his sleeve, its fabric as dark as dried blood. He moved without much haste; every pause felt measured, like the world was at his beckon. The air seemed to tighten around him as one of the other attendants moved forward to support his arm.
The Marquis of the Northern Defence (镇北侯 Zhènběi Hóu) did not look around. He adjusted the wolf-fur collar at his throat and gave a small nod toward the servants.
Deeper within, another young boy of fourteen or fifteen had been dispatched to formally report to the Steward of the Inner Hall. So, at this time, the steward knelt with his hands cupped, at the threshold announcing to the people and attendants inside the main hall.
'Master, the Duke Protector of the Nation has arrived,' (镇国公 Zhènguó Gōng)
'Go,' a voice ordered from within, 'let us receive him.'
Behind the Marquis, the curtain stirred again, and a young boy followed, bringing with him the scent of fresh air. He dropped to the step and tilted his head toward the attendants and stewards in brief acknowledgement. His unbothered gaze drifted over the entrance of the mansion, before coming to rest on the Minister who walked through the gates.
The corners of his mouth twitched with the ghost of a smile as he shot a look towards the second carriage, where another young boy appeared. This one looked younger still, his frame slighter, but that was not the only difference between them.
Where the elder wore a plain black robe over deep grey with the fabric hanging loose and sleeves rolled slightly, the younger adorned a neater, more ceremonious crimson. The younger boy descended carefully, assisted by his attendant and his chin held up high. His ink-black hair was tied into a tight bun and bound with a red ribbon. He stood up tall and proud.
They both bore a shadow of likeness to the aged man, yet their countenance could not have differed more; one carried with him the restlessness of the open plains, and the other the stillness of the winter lake.
Boots clicked against smooth stone as heavy steps walked through the courtyard, behind them the scurry of lighter footsteps. A faint breeze of incense, bamboo and limewash danced through the courtyard and through the willow branches tied unto the eaves. The sound of hooves fading behind the closing gate, and in its place came the whisper of scraping brooms hastily withdrawn.
Two young boys and an older man walked through the outer courtyard into the inner one. Pebbled paths spined and curved between rows of trees; pine and young bamboo leaves barely rustling in crisp air, scattering light across the silver thread of their robes. Servants soon lined their path at ordered intervals; the rhythmic clink of jade pendants echoed eerily as they kneeled low to welcome the three figures. One figure glanced up and around, another did not, and the last lingered for a breath before continuing.
Somewhere even deeper within, another bronze chime sounded. They entered the main courtyard and passed the pond which lay at its heart. The pond sported lotus leaves that were just beginning to unfurl. The Marquis went ahead, with his sons following in his wake – their black and crimson reflections against the pale green water.
Two figures stood in front of them: one man in dark green with gold trims, and beside him a woman in soft cream embroidered silk. The singular wave of robes swept inwards as they turned to welcome the Marquis and his sons, away from the sunlight and into the cool shade of the hall.
'Marquis of the Northern Defence,' The man began with a courteous smile, 'You honour my humble hall.'
He gestured to the seat beside him and waited.
At his side, the woman turned gracefully and offered a light courtesy with both hands clasped.
(妾身 qiè shēn; Madam Shen 沈氏 Shěn Shì)
'妾身沈氏,见过侯爷'
'This humble wife, Madam Shen, greets Your Lordship, the Marquis.' Her tone was smooth and polished with propriety.
'Minister Bai, you remain unchanged,' The Marquis replied, his rough northern voice dispersing the formal air, 'Why so formal, what of our enduring friendship.'
He took his seat to the left of the south-facing hall and inclined his head to Madam Shen. 'I trust you have been well, Madam Shen.'
The Minister of War (兵部尚书 Bīngbù Shàngshū) sat with his robe gathered neatly at the waist; although now with a civil position, years of command had tempered his posture. He acknowledged the two young boys standing before him.
'And these are…? '
'Ah,' the Marquis said, pride softening his tone, 'my sons, come also to pay their respects.' He nodded for them to step forward.
A couple of servants entered the hall then; their steps barely louder than the faint hiss of the charcoal brazier, hidden behind one of the low screens. They each held in their hand a rounded rectangular tray of red sandalwood inlaid with gold, and behind them two more servants followed closely. Upon the trays rested a dark-green celadon teapot, two white porcelain cups, and a neatly folded fine linen serving cloth with the seal of the household embroidered at its corners.
They separated in pairs and knelt between the host and guest, each pair facing the other. The nearer servant lifted the cup from the tray held by the other, and, with both hands presented it to the Marquis. Her eyes never left the floor, and her arms were stretched high.
The second servant pair poured for the Minister and his wife, after which they withdrew a pace to the side to join the other servants. Steam curled upward as the scent of osmanthus tea filled the air.
The Marquis first raised his cup, immediately mirrored by the Minister. In the silence that followed the first sips of tea, the boy in black stepped forward, clasping his right hand over his left fist.
'丁亦风.'
'Ding Yifeng.'
His voice low; steady.
The bow that followed was shallow; a mere gesture performed first to the Minister and then to the wife of the Minister. She had since taken her seat behind her husband, on his left-hand side.
He paused; his gaze fixed directly on the Minister. 'I have long heard of the Minister and his illustrious household. Seeing it today, the rumours surely do not disappoint.'
His arms fell abruptly as he stepped back. The words said could have been praise but something in the way he said it left his intent uncertain. The Minister regarded him with mild amusement, a sudden glint in his eyes and a faint upward curve of his mouth. He was long accustomed to the boldness of the youth.
Slightly mortified, the well-dressed younger child followed at once, his long sleeve brushing against his brother as he moved forward to redeem the situation.