Chapter Thirty-Three: The Mysterious Young Wife

Time slipped by quietly; more than twenty days passed in the blink of an eye. The year’s end had arrived, yet the drills in the Xiangyi military camp continued unabated, and the townsfolk busied themselves at the market, preparing for the festivities.

For Wei Zi, this had been a year of ceaseless activity for his family. First, as the primary sponsor of Cao Cao’s efforts, he oversaw military supplies, personnel allocation, and every detail of mobilization. Secondly, as a leading household in Xiangyi, his family monopolized eighty percent of the county’s business—from firewood, grain, oil, and salt, to sauces, vinegar, tea, medicines, household goods, farming tools, and livestock. At the turn of the year, business flourished, leaving him overwhelmed and hardly time to eat.

Despite it all, he meticulously managed every matter relating to Cao Cao’s army, checking and rechecking without a single error. Cao Hong, seeing this, was deeply impressed, believing Wei Zi to be a uniquely gifted talent. Yet he could not recall such a man in history. Had he died young? Wei Zi had followed Cao Cao so early; if he lived, he should have become a distinguished minister, honored for three reigns.

Wei Zi was busy, and so was Cao Cao. He spent his days in the camp, rallying the 5,500 soldiers. Though not remarkable in appearance, his eloquence was extraordinary—able to shift effortlessly between refined and coarse language. When he spoke roughly, it was like a barrage of cannon fire. The soldiers, mostly rough men themselves, felt a new closeness to their leader’s approachable manner. Cao Cao often brought wine and meat to reward them, eating and living among them. In a short time, the army’s cohesion and morale soared, and Cao Hong, accustomed to fighting alone, watched with admiration.

During these twenty days, Cao Hong diligently instructed Cao Ang. Day by day, Cao Ang’s stance grew steady, no longer needing correction. Cao Hong decided to teach him the graceful “Swallow’s Fist.” Named after the martial prowess of Yan Qing, the wandering hero among the 108 outlaws of Liangshan Marsh, this boxing style focused on balance—a skill Yan Qing excelled at in wrestling. Years of relying on his right arm had left Cao Ang unbalanced, so this form was ideal for him.

Cao Ang practiced the technique with great enthusiasm, as if he had found a cherished toy. It was the last day of the sixth year of Zhongping, the end of 189 AD. Standing under the eaves, Cao Hong watched Cao Ang in the courtyard, braving the swirling snow, his Swallow’s Fist vigorous and lively. Cao Hong offered occasional guidance, correcting his mistakes.

At that moment, Cao Cao approached with a group. Behind him were Xiahou Yuan, Xiahou Dun, Cao Ren, Cao Chun, Wei Zi, Yue Jin, Dian Wei, and Shi Huan—eight men, three at the level of refining spirit to emptiness, five at refining qi to spirit. Though Cao Cao’s army seemed small, his team was formidable.

Cao Hong called Cao Ang to stop and stepped forward. “Greetings, elder brother.”

Cao Ang also came forward, bowing. “Greetings, Father!”

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Cao Cao smiled. “No need for formalities,” he said to Cao Ang. “Ping’an, greet your uncles.”

He introduced the men behind him. Even those not from the clan—Wei Zi, Yue Jin, and Shi Huan—were addressed as uncles, leaving them flattered and somewhat bewildered.

Cao Cao continued, “You all follow me, Mengde, against Dong Zhuo’s tyranny—a matter of life and death. I have my eldest son call you uncles, for we are brothers, sharing fortune and hardship alike.”

The words moved everyone; Yue Jin, the young man, even grew teary-eyed. Such was Cao Cao’s skill in winning hearts.

After the generals expressed their thanks, Cao Cao laughed, “Tonight, you’ll dine in my home and meet my family.” He turned to Cao Hong and Wei Zi, saying, “Zilian, Zixu, only your families are here. Invite Meizhen as well.”

Cao Hong answered, “Yes!”

Cao Cao glanced at the sky. “Dinner is not far off. Let’s enjoy a few cups first.” With that, he led the generals and Cao Ang into the main hall, sending someone to invite Sheng Meizhen and Wei Zi’s family.

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That evening, Cao Cao’s residence was filled with festivity. At the banquet sat his wife and concubine. Lady Ding, his wife, was twenty-five or twenty-six, plain in appearance, and not particularly distinguished in bearing. She had raised Cao Ang herself, for his mother—a maid named Liu—fell ill after giving birth, became Lady Liu, and died a few years later.

Cao Cao’s concubine, Lady Bian, was strikingly beautiful, not yet eighteen, poised and graceful. She had already borne him two sons: two-year-old Cao Pi and newborn Cao Zhang. Both children were still infants and not present at the table.

Lady Bian had once been a songstress, redeemed by Cao Cao for her beauty. Despite being the mother of two, she still retained a trace of girlish purity and a flawless figure. When Lady Ding brought Lady Bian to greet the generals with wine, as Lady Bian approached, Cao Hong noticed that, aside from the Xiahou brothers and Dian Wei—who were masters—the others seemed somewhat ill at ease, captivated by Lady Bian’s elegance and beauty.

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When the two women stood before Cao Hong, Lady Ding spoke, “Zilian, my sister and I toast you.” She and Lady Bian raised their cups.

Lady Bian’s clear eyes gazed quietly at Cao Hong, like two swirling vortices, possessing an enchanting power.

Something was strange—a songstress with such calm dignity? Even with my cultivated mind, I find myself drawn to her. This woman... is not ordinary.

After exchanging a glance with Lady Bian, Cao Hong felt a chill within, but said aloud, “Sister-in-law, you flatter me! Cheers!” He clinked glasses with them and drank in one gulp.

As he drank, Cao Hong reviewed the history he knew: Cao Ang died in Wancheng, Cao Pi narrowly escaped with the army; Lady Ding returned to her family, Lady Bian became the principal wife. Cao Pi became emperor, his brother Cao Zhang died suddenly, Cao Zhi was exiled to a small city. Cao Pi, Cao Zhang, and Cao Zhi were all Lady Bian’s children. If Lady Bian remained, and watched her sons destroy each other without intervening, that was not what a normal mother would do.

Moreover, after Cao Ang’s death, Lady Ding left; even when Cao Cao invited her back, she did not return, securing Lady Bian’s position. Was this all coincidence, or something more? The historical records are sparse; who knows what strange and subtle events transpired?

Now, Lady Bian displayed such uncanny charm before all. The Xiahou brothers and Dian Wei were not bewitched, but neither seemed aware. What was this woman’s true nature and intent?

The secrets of this era are endless... The two women finished their toast and returned to their seats. Cao Hong joined the generals, and the room was filled with merriment. Yet his heart grew heavier and heavier.

Lady Bian was mother to Cao Pi, and he was mentor to Cao Ang. In a sense, their paths were destined to cross...