The Eldest Daughter of the Sichuan Tang Clan Protects Her Family

“Huh? What’s wrong with you?”
Pang Yiran frowned and stepped closer to Tang Hak.
“Why are you making that face? It doesn’t suit you.”
“…What about my face?”
Tang Hak looked bewildered as he touched his own cheek.
“There’s a chill in that blank look of yours,” Pang Yiran said, tilting her head. “For a second I thought I’d finally get to see you angry, and I was almost excited.”
“Something really happened, didn’t it?”
Unlike the teasing Pang Yiran, Zhuge Jihwi studied Tang Hak seriously. Tang Hak opened his mouth as if to speak, then quietly turned his gaze aside.
Following that glance, the Little Clan Heads soon realized the reason for his frozen expression.
A man and woman sat together by the lakeside, easily visible even from afar — Tang Hak’s elder sister, and Namgung Hyun. Only the two of them were seated at the large table, conversing quietly, but for some reason the area around them swarmed with people.
Pang Yiran let out a dry laugh at the sight.
“As expected, everyone thinks alike.”
It looked as if the crowd had gathered just to watch someone else’s romance unfold.
Unable to hold herself back, Pang Yiran stepped onto the bridge.
“I’m going over there too.”
“Planning to get scolded by the Pang Clan Head?”
“I’d rather be scolded by the elders. If I miss this, my future grandchildren will ask, ‘Grandmother, what were you doing instead of watching that?’”
“…That’s absurd.”
“No, if they’re anything like me, they absolutely would. They’ll think I’m pathetic for missing the chance to witness living martial history.”
Zhuge Jihwi stared silently at Pang Yiran. He held onto her sleeve to stop her — but couldn’t quite find a proper rebuttal. Knowing her, her descendants really might say that.
Even Tang Hak, who’d hesitated before the bridge, began to move.
“I’m going too.”
With a sigh, Zhuge Jihwi grabbed Tang Hak’s sleeve with his other hand.
“Let’s try to stay quiet this year, please. For my sake, at least, behave yourselves.”
Both Tang Hak and Pang Yiran snapped their heads toward him, eyes blazing.
“Brother, why did you have to become this year’s Little Clan Head?”
“Right? Of all years, you chose this one to take the title!”
Zhuge Jihwi had no defense. Trying to redirect their irritation, he changed the subject.
“By the way, those two — when did they get that close? I thought this was their first meeting.”
“The reason’s obvious. They’re handsome and beautiful. Probably fell for each other at first sight. There’s even a rumor they already had a secret rendezvous in the Tang young lady’s study—”
“That’s not true! My sister’s just interested in calligraphy, she visits the study every other day! And Namgung Hyun is famous for his fine handwriting! They must’ve just met there by chance, got along talking about brushwork, and, uh, got close that way!”
Flustered, Tang Hak stammered as he cut off Pang Yiran’s wild imagination.
Zhuge Jihwi tilted his lips wryly.
“That’s quite a tale. Two direct heirs of martial families bonding not through martial arts, but over literary skill.”
With that, the Zhuge Little Clan Head — or rather, this year’s Little Clan Head — let go of their sleeves.
“Wha—!”
“Why’d you suddenly let go?!”
Freed, Tang Hak and Pang Yiran froze instead of stepping forward, both looking at him in confusion.
Smiling, Zhuge Jihwi walked past them.
“I’m joining them too.”
“Why?”
“What? Brother, if you end up demoted from this year’s Little Clan Head to this month’s, what then…?”
Arms crossed, Zhuge Jihwi wore a dissatisfied look.
“They say there’s a refined gathering in the martial families that debates poetry and prose. How could they hold it without me? And my calligraphy isn’t exactly lacking, is it?”

Pang Yiran and Tang Hak exchanged glances — then both looked at him with weary eyes.
“Why are you suddenly breaking character like this?”
“He must be under a lot of pressure after finally reclaiming the Little Clan Head seat.”
By then Zhuge Jihwi was already halfway across the bridge. Without turning back, he called out:
“If you’re coming, hurry up. I plan to challenge those two to a duel before they leave.”
“…A duel?”
“A duel? But aren’t duels banned outside the training grounds?”
Their doubtful voices were answered with a laugh.
“I’ll show you a duel of calligraphy — something you’ve never seen before!”
At his absurd words, Pang Yiran and Tang Hak turned pale and bolted after him.
“There’s no such thing as a calligraphy duel! Brother, you made that up!”
“B-brother, did you drink? Did Hwangbo Rim feed you some strange liquor again?!”
The two fretted over the ever-stranger “Little Clan Head of the Year,” but Zhuge Jihwi’s face was full of delight.
***
“Thank you. I heard the Divine Physician will be visiting this evening.”
“It’s nothing.”
“To me it’s something. Thanks to you, I wasn’t scolded.”
Maybe taking it as a jest, Tang Sohwa let out a quiet laugh.
“I’m glad to hear that.”
Namgung Hyun hid his true thoughts behind a faint smile instead of replying.
After the first day’s luncheon, the Namgung family’s attitude toward him had changed.
He knew well why the elders had softened. The reason was sitting right in front of him.
Their intent was obvious — treat him kindly now, in hopes of selling him later at a high price.
You’re no merchants, yet you still crave a profitable deal.
Namgung Hyun stifled a dry laugh inside.
Too late to pretend he’s a valuable asset now. The Tang side surely saw through that.
He almost admired their effort to dispose of him gracefully — but in the end, the Namgung Clan they cherished so dearly would belong to his hand.
He wondered what faces they would make on that day.
Especially the Clan Head — would he still feign a mountain’s composure then?
As Namgung Hyun’s thoughts wandered, Tang Sohwa called to him.
“Sir.”
“Yes?”
“Please don’t try too hard.”
His gaze shifted toward her.
Though he knew it was coincidence, her words drew his attention before he could stop himself.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a direct heir of the Namgung Clan. There’s no need to be so cautious.”
Sohwa turned her head, looking off toward a certain direction.
“Perhaps you just don’t wish to make a scene, or perhaps you’re simply kind enough to tolerate the crude behavior of lesser men — but I’d rather you didn’t.”
A group that often lingered around Namgung Gangchang was glancing over at them, whispering. Sohwa noticed, and added calmly:
“Unfortunately, not everyone has the discernment to recognize worth. When dazzled by noisy tongues, people sometimes forget who is above and who below.”
Realizing what she meant, Namgung Hyun smiled bitterly.
“I’m embarrassed. I didn’t think you understood my position so well.”
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. And besides — you don’t really think that way, do you?”
Her gaze drifted back from Gangchang’s group to him.
Then her lips, long still, slowly parted.
“If you wish, I can help you.”
At the vague offer, Namgung Hyun asked:
“Help me with what, exactly?”
“I’d like to help you reclaim your rightful place.”
When he didn’t answer, not grasping her intent, the curve of her lips deepened and a more specific proposal slipped out.
“Would you consider going to the Martial Alliance Headquarters with me?”
Namgung Hyun let out a faint chuckle before he knew it.
“The Headquarters isn’t a place one can go just because one wishes.”
“You could. You’ve already been invited once by the Alliance Lord himself. If you desire it, I can make the arrangements.”
Looking at her with mild suspicion, he said:
“You speak as if you already have a plan.”
Sohwa’s tone carried quiet confidence.
“I’m not one to speak empty words without knowing the way.”
He pondered what he might have missed, then asked the question that puzzled him most.
“But why do you want to go to Headquarters?”
“Because I want to be with you.”
Startled by her directness, Namgung Hyun furrowed his brows.
“…Why do you want to ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) be with me?”
At that, Tang Sohwa met his eyes squarely — as if the answer were already reflected within them.
“I think you already know.”
She gave a faint, bittersweet smile.
“If not… I might be a little disappointed.”
Her tone was calm, yet it stirred something in the listener’s chest.
Perhaps it wasn’t the tone — perhaps it was the sunlight rippling on the lake, or the laughter carried by the breeze. Everything blurred the senses.
Namgung Hyun was quick-witted, but this time he couldn’t think fast enough.
Just as he began to recover from the strange feeling, someone interrupted.
“What could Namgung Hyun possibly not understand, to make Lady Tang so disappointed?”
Zhuge Jihwi asked cheerfully as he sat down before them.
“I’m Zhuge Jihwi, of the Zhuge Clan. May I join you?”
Though already seated, he asked out of courtesy.
“In a gathering meant for harmony, how could we refuse one who comes forward to speak first?”
Sohwa picked up a wine flask beside her — but before she could pour, Namgung Hyun gently took it from her hands and poured in her stead, smiling as he filled Zhuge Jihwi’s cup.
“I heard it’s rare to have a conversation with a Little Clan Head during this alliance, so it’s an honor to have you come yourself.”
“Please understand. Our Clan Heads have ordered us to remain reserved, so Little Clan Heads don’t usually mingle at such gatherings. Everyone here is young and talkative — it’s easy for rumors to start.”
Sohwa smiled faintly at that.
“And yet, Little Clan Head, you still came.”
Her tone was mild, but there was a thorn beneath it.
Zhuge Jihwi, well-used to hidden blades in conversation, found the jab almost ticklish. He raised his cup with a long grin.
“I’m not quite like the other Little Clan Heads, am I?”
As if inviting a toast, he extended the cup.
“Come now, share a drink with this year’s Little Clan Head.”
To hear him use the very title others mocked the Zhuge family with — neither Tang nor Namgung could respond.
Fortunately, both Tang Sohwa and Namgung Hyun were skilled at masking emotion. Namgung Hyun quietly refilled his cup with tea instead of wine, while Sohwa, face serene, raised hers as though she’d heard nothing at all.
No sooner had they drained their cups than Zhuge Jihwi shattered the calm.
“Ah, since we’ve time to spare — how about a duel?”
“Cough!”
Caught off guard, Sohwa choked slightly. As she cleared her throat, Zhuge Jihwi continued with a laugh.
“Not a serious contest of martial skill, of course — merely a friendly match of calligraphy.”