Chapter 6: The Father-in-law Goes Berserk
That night, Cao Cao refused Chen Cong’s terrifying suggestion of sneaking out with his bird under the moonlight, and instead made new arrangements for his son-in-law’s lodging.
Humming a little tune, he swept his sleeves and skipped all the way back to the inner chambers, his face betraying not a trace of drunkenness.
He pushed open the door.
Inside, the candles still burned. Lady Ding, by their light, busied herself with her embroidery.
She did not look up as Cao Cao entered, only asked quietly, “Well, have you sent that criminal out of the house?”
Cao Cao’s moods changed as swiftly as the weather in June. A moment ago he was as bright as early spring, but now his smile vanished in an instant. He slipped off his shoes and collapsed onto the couch, sighing incessantly.
Hearing him, Lady Ding put down her needlework and came over to give him a shove.
“Who was Mengde drinking with?”
“My lady… ai…”
Lady Ding’s patience snapped. She pinched him sharply at the waist.
“Speak plainly, stop hemming and hawing!”
Cao Cao sat up, clutching his side, his expression grave. “My lady, I fear this matter is impossible to resolve.”
“Mengde, it’s not that I forbid you from sheltering a righteous man. But look at Luoyang—our own family is barely managing. Do you truly understand?”
“My lady, my lady!” Cao Cao pressed her shoulders, lowering his voice. “This man, I truly must protect him.”
“And why is that?”
Cao Cao crept to the door, peered out to ensure no one was near, then returned.
In a hushed tone, he said, “Rong’er and he… and he… ai… how am I to say this?”
“What!!” Lady Ding recoiled in horror, backing away until she hit the table and finally came to her senses.
She’d already suspected something from how Cao Rong behaved that day, and now her husband’s demeanor confirmed her fears.
What else could it be but a secret affair and an illicit pregnancy?
Cao Cao hurried to steady her. “My lady, keep your voice down. What’s done is done—you could beat the two to death and it would change nothing.”
“This is your fault! You spoiled our daughter. Whenever I tried to discipline her, you shielded her at every turn. Cao Mengde, this is all because of you!”
Lady Ding, dizzy with anger, pummeled Cao Cao’s chest with her fists, tears streaming down her face.
“Yes, yes, blame me all you wish, but don’t make yourself sick with anger. I’ll deal with that boy soon enough to give you some satisfaction, but as for Rong’er… ai…”
The candlelight flickered weakly over his face, obscured and revealed by turns.
After a long silence, Lady Ding’s lips parted. “So be it.”
Those two words seemed to sap all her strength, and as soon as she spoke them, she collapsed into Cao Cao’s arms, shutting her eyes in pain.
It was done!
Cao Cao took her soft hand in his.
“My lady, don’t trouble yourself. I have a plan. To the world, we’ll say the families have long had an arrangement. We’ll dispense with the formal betrothal rituals. But as the boy’s family has fallen on hard times, I must trouble you to quietly arrange a bride price through someone you trust—let no word leak out. Be quick about it, too, in case Rong’er starts to show…”
At that moment, Lady Ding could have bitten someone in rage.
A mother-in-law preparing a dowry for her son-in-law! Was there ever anything more absurd under heaven?
Yet she was afraid—afraid that Cao Rong would be shamed if her condition became public, and even more afraid that any drastic action might drive her daughter to despair.
Cao Cao, knowing he was in the wrong, hastened to comfort her: “The boy’s name is Chen Cong, courtesy name Zining. He is the nineteenth generation descendant of the Marquis of Quni. His writing rivals Ban Gu of the Later Han, and his martial skills surpass even Xiang Yu of Chu and Han. Rong’er is not marrying beneath her station.”
Lady Ding ceased her weeping, but looked at Cao Cao with deep suspicion.
Ban Gu was a historian of great renown, counted among the four masters of Han prose alongside Zhang Heng, Yang Xiong, and Sima Xiangru. As for Xiang Yu, the Hegemon-King of Western Chu, his valor was legendary—no equal through the ages!
She could hardly believe that any common criminal could stand beside such giants.
“Is this really true?”
Cao Cao, not in the least embarrassed, replied, “Surely you know our daughter’s temperament? If he were not a man of rare talent and charm, how could he have moved her to abandon all maidenly reserve and force our hand in this way? And do you know why he was condemned? For composing verses satirizing the Grand Tutor himself! Even Dong Zhuo would not kill him, merely ordered his head shaved. What sort of man could inspire such restraint?”
Lady Ding was half convinced. “I can accept that his writing rivals Ban Gu, but how do you explain his martial prowess surpassing Xiang Yu?”
“If you believe it, that is enough.”
“Huh?”
Cao Cao released her, flopped back onto the couch, and rolled himself up in his quilt, turning his back to her.
“If you don’t believe me, you may check the storeroom tomorrow. Both stone lions have been moved. The footprints and marks are proof.”
Lady Ding clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a cry of astonishment. She sat frozen for some time before remembering Cao Cao.
She nudged his back and called softly, “Mengde.”
“Go, go.”
“My lord, I was wrong.”
Cao Cao rolled over, fixed her with a cold look. “And how were you wrong?”
“You work so hard outside, and I let suspicion cloud my judgment. I was wrong.”
Cao Cao burst out laughing, swept her into his arms, and naturally, it was a night of sweet dreams.
—
The next morning, before dawn had broken, Cao Rong had washed and dressed, and brought along some snacks prepared by the kitchen.
Stepping outside, she saw her father Cao Cao sitting in the courtyard, his face dark, sipping tea.
She skipped over to him. “Father, what brings you here? Have you met him yet?”
“Go on,” Cao Cao dismissed the maid Zhihua with a glance.
He sipped his tea, spat out a few leaves, and said, “I have.”
Cao Rong’s eyes sparkled. “Well? What do you think?”
“His writing rivals Ban Gu, his martial skills surpass Xiang Yu.”
“Really? I knew it!”
Cao Rong giggled, then picked up the food box to go see her beloved.
“Come back!”
“Yes?” she asked, puzzled.
“If your mother questions you, simply say as much. Also, say there has long been an understanding between the families. Do you understand?”
Cao Rong was startled. “Father, I don’t even know his name yet.”
Cao Cao snorted. “You didn’t know his name, and yet you carved ‘Qing Qing Zi Jin’ with your own hands?”
“Oh, he’s the husband Heaven has chosen for me!”
“Oh?” Cao Cao was intrigued. “Tell me in detail.”
“The day before yesterday, I went out for a spring outing and made a wish at the Luo River for a worthy husband. Suddenly, I saw the water rise in waves, and there he was—he appeared out of thin air, right at my feet! And he was exactly as I had wished: tall, handsome, and heroic. Father, isn’t he truly Heaven’s gift to me?”
Cao Cao’s interest flared, then swiftly faded.
He filtered out what mattered: a rescue, attraction at first sight, hiding the man in the woodshed. It matched his own suspicions closely.
As for all that about wishes at the Luo River, surging waves, miraculous appearances—he dismissed them as mere excuses for her infatuation.
Given that she had found him, Cao Cao couldn’t be bothered to scold her. Otherwise, he’d have called her a fool for sure.
And to think she was his daughter—of all places, she hid her beloved in the woodshed! Was she afraid no one would find out? She might as well have put him straight in her boudoir and sealed the matter at once!
How much unnecessary trouble had she caused!
“You don’t believe me, Father?”
“I do. Why wouldn’t I?”
“You don’t, I can tell!”
Cao Cao’s temper flared. “Then tell me, who can vouch for your story?”
Cao Rong puffed out her cheeks. “Who would make such a wish in public? Of course no one else saw!”
“Then let me tell you: your future husband’s name is Chen Cong, courtesy name Zining, nineteenth generation descendant of the Marquis of Quni. Our families have long had an understanding.”