Qi Kingdom, West Liang, and South Rui were the most powerful vassal states of the Great Zhou Dynasty. After the Zhou Dynasty’s turmoil, the three vassal kings declared independence and proclaimed themselves emperors, ushering in the era of the Three Kingdoms.
However, the Ancestral Emperor was far-sighted and knew that the situation of the Three Kingdoms would not last forever. He collaborated with An Honglie to make early preparations, instructing him to establish a secret department known only to the current emperor and crown prince. This department trained the first batch of spies to be sent to West Liang and South Rui and stored both the Great Qi Kingdom’s secrets and the intelligence collected by the spies, managed in layers.
After hundreds of years, it formed a massive organization where spies were not influenced by imperial power and only answered to the master of the secret department. This authority was granted by the Ancestral Emperor to An Honglie as a form of protection. The Ancestral Emperor recognized that, although he and An Honglie shared a deep bond, future generations might not coexist peacefully. The An family’s control of secrets implied a potential weakness for any capable emperor who would want to eliminate this threat. Thus, he ensured the An family had complete control over the spies, making any ruler contemplating harm to the An family aware of the massive consequences.
As for what motivated the Ancestral Emperor to support the An family, entrust power to An Honglie instead of his children, and leave vulnerabilities for his descendants—only he knew. However, everyone agreed that the Ancestral Emperor was exceptionally generous to An Honglie, who, in turn, severed relations with all relatives, sending them to the border cities of Qi Kingdom, earning a reputation for being unfilial and unrighteous.
After his wife gave birth to their first son, An Honglie consumed a sterility potion to limit his descendants’ numbers. With more people, hearts would diverge, making it difficult to preserve massive secrets. He established a family rule that each generation could have only one heir responsible for the secret department, which was not to be revealed to anyone, even close kin. Unless the An family’s survival was at stake, they must never act against imperial power.
To prevent potential betrayal, he even poisoned his firstborn. This hereditary poison ensured death before turning thirty without the antidote.
The only antidote to the poison was the sterility potion, held by the imperial family. After the An family heir bore their first child, the current emperor would bestow this secret potion as the antidote. The first and only child must inherit the secret department, regardless of gender, which is why a female heir would marry a live-in son-in-law.
Even after the poison was neutralized, its effects would lead to premature death, causing each generation of the An family to live no longer than fifty, with many dying before forty-five. Knowing they were destined for early death, and that their offspring would share the same fate reliant on the imperial family’s antidote, the An family would not easily act against imperial power. Conversely, the imperial family, wary of the An family’s unknown power, would not dare to act rashly, choosing to provide the antidote obediently.
This created a mutually constraining yet interdependent relationship, reflecting the Ancestral Emperor’s foresight and the An family ancestor’s meticulousness. The An family took root in the imperial city, concealing the Qi Kingdom’s secret department within their ancestral home. To avoid drawing attention and unsettling the imperial family, the An family adhered to an unwritten rule against becoming high-ranking officials or wealthy merchants.
Each generation in the Qi Kingdom appears to hold insignificant official positions or small businesses while secretly controlling the kingdom’s greatest secrets. Until now, the previous leader of the An family, my mother-in-law, officially handed over the secret department to An Jin at eighteen. She then retired to focus on training new covert agents, and her study, which no one was allowed to enter, had a hidden passage.
An Jin defied tradition by taking the imperial examinations and rising to the position of Assistant Minister of Personnel instead of becoming a minor official or running a small business. His decision was largely influenced by my earlier rejection of marriage.
This connection is why he always knew my whereabouts and could handle romantic entanglements and even deal with Yan Huo from afar. However, the reason for the Emperor of Qi bestowing Xue Miaoyin in marriage to An Jin remains unclear to me.
An Jin looked at me deeply. “The undercurrents between the imperial court and the An family have existed for a long time. His Majesty is trying to further constrain me through Xue Miaoyin.”
“Why not use the Seventh Princess?” I had been puzzled for a long time.
“Why didn’t His Majesty bestow the Seventh Princess to you?”
“His Majesty is unwilling to let the princess marry because he doesn’t want attachments with the An family,” he sneered. “And sacrificing a Xue Miaoyin is inconsequential.”
“Dealing with the An family?” My heart sank.
“Every generation of emperors has aimed to confront the An family,” he said, leading me away from the stone chamber. “Whether they succeed is another matter.”
“I don’t understand. If that’s the case, then the cup of sterility wine…”
“That cup was prepared for you. Since you cannot bear children, I would eventually remarry, and he would always have a way to constrain me.”
I suddenly realized. His Majesty the Emperor of Qi likely didn’t expect An Jin to drink it himself. An Jin remained childless, and after drinking, wouldn’t the An family’s control over the secret department be severed? What would become of the An family’s bloodline, which had continued for hundreds of years?
I was anxious. A change was approaching, and An Jin stood before me, blocking the cold wind of an impending storm.
The weight of this cup of sterility wine far exceeded my imagination.
No wonder my mother-in-law’s expression was so sad – An Jin shouldn’t have become an official, shouldn’t have pursued me, and perhaps shouldn’t have met me at all. Indeed, one wrong step leads to another.
He referred to Old Li, who takes care of the horses, the kitchen staff, maids, and even the sedan chair bearers. So they were all secret agents with martial arts skills? An Jin added, “Including Que’er as well.” I was stunned. What kind of household was this?
Chapter Forty: Hidden Dragons and Crouching Tigers
This was an era where everyone was secretly embedded, with ears and eyes everywhere. Since realizing this, my understanding of the world deepened. Little Zhu, the kitchen hand, was skilled at listening and identifying locations. Old Li, the stableman, was adept at disguise, while Aunt Li, who did needlework in the grandmother’s room, was a master of hidden weapons, specializing in embroidery needles.
Then there was Que’er. I couldn’t figure out her special skill. An Jin told me to observe her closely, but despite watching intently, I found no flaws. Could her special skill be “having no flaws”? This was truly puzzling.
Not only in the An household, but agents were distributed throughout the Great Qi Kingdom. The Emperor and the Crown Prince might be unaware of their true identities. Initially, the An family refrained from planting agents around the emperor to demonstrate loyalty. However, as tensions between the royal family and the An family grew, they became cautious and made arrangements within the palace, with An Jin overseeing numerous deployments.
