Xu Fengnian, with good intentions, took Jiang Ni out for some fresh air, but she had her mind set on the chilling rumors about the ghost city of Xiangfan. She had already reached her limit of courage by watching the lake with Old Master Li; she dared not go out again. Even when Xu Fengnian, rarely doing something at a loss, offered that for every outing, it would count as her reading ten thousand characters of texts, Jiang Ni still refused without hesitation. Xu Fengnian could only give up—after all, he couldn’t drag her out against her will. Besides, their planned itinerary included the Fishing Pavilion, known for the heaviest yin energy; he suspected she’d end up fighting him to the death there. In ancient times, when Wang Yangming suffered defeat and his city fell, he gouged out his own eyes and committed suicide atop the city walls. His final words declared that he would leave his eyeballs behind to witness Xu Xiao’s eventual downfall. That place was hardly ideal for enjoying scenery. Since Jiang Ni refused to come, Lao Jianshen (Old Sword Sage), whose presence steadied the chaos like an anchoring needle, naturally wouldn’t tag along either. Thus, besides his three attendants, Xu Fengnian brought along General Ning Emei as well, since there was some military strategy he wished to consult with the general about.
Before Xu Fengnian could send Qingniao to fetch Ning Emei, the latter came striding in with a grave expression. After confirming that there was no one else in the corridor, he leaned closer and whispered, “Your Highness, Prince Jing’an Zhao Heng has arrived!”
Xu Fengnian was shocked and squinted, asking, “How many troops did he bring?”
Ning Emei shook his head somberly. “He brought no soldiers. Accompanying him are just a few personal guards, Zhao Xun, and a woman who appears to be the Princess Jing’an.”
Xu Fengnian’s astonishment deepened—could it be that Zhao Heng intended to come bearing mulberry twigs to apologize, complete with wife and son? Otherwise why would the Princess of Jing’an show her face publicly? Without armed escorts of spears and halberds, he’d already shown considerable sincerity. Take Xu Xiao for example—he never indulged in the charade of showing courtesy to guests; simply opening the front gate of the mansion was sufficient to show respect.
Zhao Heng, even at his lowest, had once stood unrivaled and was now one of the six great feudal lords. If he obeyed the strictures of the *Prince’s Code*, then it made sense for him not to bring an entourage—but why personally come at all?
Did this make any sense?
Xu Fengnian furrowed his brow, his mind racing feverishly. He unconsciously missed how General Ning Emei was scrutinizing him. Outside the room, Jiang Ni held a book and bore an indifferent expression, as if the world might collapse and leave Prince Xu to handle it. Qingniao, however, who was sensitive and guarded with her emotions, caught Ning Emei’s glance and immediately radiated a subtle, dark killing intent. Ning Emei seemed aware of her stare and tilted his gaze, offering Qingniao a candid and reassuring smile. While Xu Fengnian was considering how to respond, he missed the silent battle of glances between Qingniao and Ning Emei. Pausing briefly, he chuckled lightly. “Let’s go, General Ning. Let’s go see for ourselves. I’ve heard that Princess Jing’an is a peerless beauty. If I remember correctly, she made it onto the “Beauty List” this time. For a woman nearly forty to still be on the list, she must truly be a bewitching enchantress. It would be wrong not to share such rare beauty with everyone.”
Ning Emei smiled faintly and led the way.
The meeting place was a secluded chamber tucked in a corner of an inn. Unknown to Xu Fengnian, Lü, Yang, and Shu had quietly rallied behind him. By the time he reached the door, even Lao Cang had silently taken position at a nearby corner. Standing at the entrance were two guards from Jing’an Prince’s Mansion, both middle-aged, their energies long and unbroken. One gripped a blade while the other stood bare-handed, their demeanor carrying the distinctive flavor of battlefields—simple yet decisive, like snow soaked in blood.
Veteran soldiers often said that those who crawled from heaps of thousands of corpses frightened even ghosts, for they bore the fiercest yang-slaying aura, wrested from the realm of the dead. Hence, Northern Liang troops always carried pride when speaking of the Great Column-General and Xiangfan City: “What are hundreds of thousands of wandering spirits? Just let the General walk into the city alone, and he’ll ensure those impure, haunting shadows aren’t ghosts anymore—just recite a Grand Dao Ritual of 36,000 cycles!”
The two battle-hardened guards didn’t attempt to stop Xu Fengnian. Considering Zhao Heng’s famous composure and prudence, if he was willing to lower his face and personally arrive at the inn, he wouldn’t have chosen to quibble over minor details. Xu Fengnian, dual blades at his side, didn’t knock and simply opened the door.
Inside stood Jing’an’s most prominent young noble, the Crown Prince Zhao Xun, bowing his head humbly.
A middle-aged gentleman, refined in demeanor, sat in a chair, turning a string of 108 Tiāntái Bodhi beads between his fingers, chanting the names of the Triple Jewels with an intensely devout expression. Even though he had nearly reached his fiftieth year, his grace remained unmatched. One could easily tell that he had been a strikingly handsome youth, with a face like jade. There were rumors that the reason Princess Jing’an was doted on by the Empress, earning her the nickname Tan Lang from the Empress herself, was because Zhao Heng was exceptionally handsome from childhood, known for his filial piety and gentle character. Even in his later years, his bearing remained elegant, with a tiger’s frame and an ape’s arms. The official history described the sixth prince as possessing beauty and talent in archery and horsemanship, and that when he rode into battle with a spear in hand atop a noble steed, none could rival him in valor.
But when Xu Fengnian entered, his eyes didn’t linger on Zhao Xun or the once-nearly-victorious feudal prince. Not because Xu was deliberately putting on an air of arrogance—no. It was because the woman in the room drew his full attention.
She happened to be seated sideways, her figure gracefully outlined. She was reading a book and with one hand, she brushed a lock of hair away from her face. Her beauty was unparalleled, her elegance refined and regal, like a celestial maiden sprung from a scroll of classical art. Upon hearing the door open, she turned her head and smiled tenderly.
A smile that could bring a city to its knees.
Xu Fengnian’s expression flickered for a moment. Zhao Xun, having glanced up, saw the look and his eyes darkened further. He quickly lowered his head, biting his lip in silence. Jing’an Prince Zhao Heng’s temples had been dusted with gray. Perhaps too many years of scheming had aged him prematurely. Still, a man’s bearing transcends age, and compared to his wife’s ageless allure and radiant presence, their mismatch was evident. After all, she was ten years his junior, and now the gap in their appearances stood even more starkly. The world knew that Princess Pei hailed from an aristocratic family of the Spring and Autumn Period. Her father, Pei Kai, known as Pei Huanglao, was a renowned Confucian scholar from Western Shu, famed for his expertise in *Laozi* and *Yijing*. Though his family had been devastated during the warring years, and Pei Kai had died as a loyal martyr, his orphaned daughter was wed into royalty. Their union of beauty and royalty became one of the celebrated romances of the age, and over the years, the once-orphaned Pei daughter, now Princess of Jing’an, had remained an enigma, rarely glimpsed beyond the high walls of the palace.
Xu Fengnian, fixated on Princess Pei, appeared to the onlookers as no more than a shameless rogue.
One of the Prince’s Mansion guards began to close the door when Lü Qiantang drew his sword threateningly.
Xu Fengnian, with his back to the door, coldly commanded, “How dare you! Show respect.”
The door was allowed to close on its own.
Prince Zhao Heng hadn’t risen to greet him. After finishing his chant, he placed his beads carefully around his well-manicured hands, then looked up with a gentle voice. “Fengnian, there’s no need for formality here between us. Let’s speak as uncle and nephew.”
Xu Fengnian, rarely shedding his arrogance, responded politely in kind. “Nephew greets Uncle Jing’an.”
It seemed Zhao Heng hadn’t expected the notoriously unruly Northern Liang prince to be so agreeable. A shadow of something indescribable flickered across his eyes. He gently pinched one of the Tiāntái Bodhi beads, his face brightening. “Lord Xu had a son worthy of his might. Long ago, I couldn’t match his battlefield glory, which was always a sore point for me. I thought I had to find some way to surpass him. My son Zhao Xun had no talent for martial arts, so I made him study hard, fearing that even my own son would be overshadowed by Lord Xu. But seeing you now, I fear we’re still far behind, losing by a wide margin. Oh, Fengnian, I’ve come uninvited today—I’ve brought this boy, who’s become obsessed with books to the point of foolishness, here to apologize to you. Because Xun lacks courage, he couldn’t bear to come himself and had no choice but to ask his mother to accompany him. I’m afraid it’s a shameful matter and I must ask for your indulgence.”
Princess Pei smiled once more, a smile fit to enchant an empire.
Zhao Heng glanced gently at his son Zhao Xun, who had once stood unmoved while Xu Fengnian struck his face with a sword hilt on the Yellow Dragon ship and even leapt overboard without emotion, being mockingly praised by Xu Fengnian for his refined grace in doing so. But today, under his father’s gaze, he was as startled as if bitten by a venomous creature. He quickly straightened and bowed deeply to Xu Fengnian, formally apologizing to the very person only days prior he regarded as an irreconcilable enemy. It was practically an offer to bury the hatchet.
Xu Fengnian didn’t hesitate—he pulled up a chair and sat down. He stared a moment at Princess Jing’an’s beautiful face, then turned to Prince Zhao Heng and smiled. “Uncle, it was my own recklessness. I don’t deserve such a formal apology from Cousin Xun.”
He spoke thus, yet showed no sign of seeking reconciliation with Zhao Xun, quietly accepting the Crown Prince’s apology without pretense.
Zhao Heng, with an easy smile, sat upright in a chair made of Chenxing Zitan—a rare, heavy, dark wood. Though the inn was lavishly decorated, it lacked such a grand, precious material as Rhino Horn Sandalwoodor Rooster Blood Old Sandalwood. Chenxing Zitan fell at the lowest end of the Rosewoodrankings, with a comparatively loose grain, its luster and texture far inferior to the higher grades, yet Rosewoodtrees grew slowly and yielded little lumber, so even a nobleman would be proud to own a Tan chair. Scholars would be delighted with even a small Tan fan. Thus, this low-end Tan chair was likely the inn’s most prized possession. Prince Zhao was known by his childhood nickname Tan Lang. His love for Tan ranked only after that of Jiang Ni’s uncle, the late emperor of Western Chu who had built a Tan Palace. Zhao Heng’s reputation for refusing to sit or sleep on anything but Tan wood was no exaggeration.
Xu Fengnian gazed at Zhao Heng’s 108-bead Moini rosary. He sighed in admiration, saying, “Uncle, how truly devoted you are to Buddhism! Tiāntái Bodhi seeds are golden and hard when harvested. Even great monks who hold the beads for decades barely turn them from golden yellow to pale, yet Uncle, you’ve already deepened them from pale yellow to milky white. The saying goes, ‘Sincere devotion can move mountains,’ no wonder every Buddha blesses you with fortune!”
Zhao Heng laughed heartily. “I’ve heard long ago that you, Fengnian, revere Buddha as I do. That must be true indeed. But Xun cannot even identify these Tiāntái Bodhi seeds. Last year at my birthday, he took the initiative to give me a string of walnut prayer beads. While each walnut was engraved with six Arhats, he didn’t know according to *The Sutra on the Merits of Different Materials for Recitation Beads* that the merits of chanting with different materials vary greatly. Beads of nuts earn only double merit, iron fivefold, copper tenfold, lotus seeds ten thousandfold, while Bodhi seeds like mine yield millions of times merit. Fengnian, tell me—if you had to choose, would you rather take Xun’s humble walnut beads or the ones Uncle holds?”
Xu Fengnian feigned surprise, saying, “If I’m not mistaken, the beads of Vajra Seed seeds earn the most merit, reaching into the millions. But the beads of Bodhi seeds earn immeasurable, infinite merit.”
Zhao Heng gently tapped one of the pale beads he had held for years, smirking, “Well, Uncle grows old, my memory fails me, I must accept the fact.”
Princess Pei’s beauty was imperial; perhaps the warm atmosphere lessened her practiced poise, making her appear softer. Holding a page with two delicate fingers, she leaned her cheek on one hand, gazing fondly at her nephew’s generation—Xu Fengnian. Her natural beauty and charm were bewitching. The Northern Liang prince who had arrived from afar intrigued her immensely. The stories circulating about this young prince in Qingzhou were anything but flattering, often reducing him to a wastrel. Considering the fall of Xiangfan, which had been destroyed by Xu Xiao and Wang Yangming, leaving a strong city transformed into a ghostly ruin, the literati of Qingzhou knew they couldn’t confront the Northern Liang King directly and instead amused themselves by criticizing the young prince’s scandalous behavior.
Meeting the Princess’s gaze, Xu Fengnian smiled, saying, “Auntie, you are breathtakingly beautiful.”
The Princess blinked, surprised. Zhao Heng lightly tapped the bead meant to suppress wandering thoughts, jokingly retorting, “Of course she’s beautiful! Fengnian, is there any young lady in Qingzhou who has caught your eye? I can have her brought here for you.”
With the face of someone who could never be embarrassed, Xu Fengnian immediately took the bait, acting smug. “I had my eyes on a girl from Qingzhou I met briefly on the Spring God Lake—what was her name again? Oh right, Lu Xiuer. Her ancestor seems to be an old minister of the capital, the esteemed Shangshu. Regarding her family status, she could barely be considered a match for me. But now that I’ve seen Auntie’s beauty, I’ve changed my mind—she doesn’t compare.”
Zhao Heng merely smiled indulgently. Prince Zhao Xun, on the other hand, had already turned pale with fury, quivering with suppressed rage. Fortunately, he remained bowing silently nearby, standing at his father’s and mother’s side, where his presence was especially insignificant.
They then exchanged more cordial small talk, riding the waves of current events, from the martial and beauty rankings, with Xu Fengnian’s verbal wit—honed through countless flirtations with Northern Liang’s courtesans—proving more refined than swordplay, elevating his conversational skills to a high art. Zhao Heng even lamented the absence of the Chancellor and General Rankings this time, saying that Xu Xiao’s father, Xu Xiao, had been shamelessly insulted by him in the past, yet now he felt compelled to defend him: The Chancellor and General Rankings had been omitted because there were no great generals post-Spring and Autumn, only those with jade-green eyes. Without any worthy generals to judge, what was the point of holding a ranking? Of course, anyone with insight recognized this argument as an implicit tribute to Premier Zhang Julü, practically elevating him to the position of sole national advisor.
Prince Zhao Heng finally rose to leave. Xu Fengnian bowed politely in farewell. Naturally, Zhao Heng went out first, followed by Princess Pei as protocol dictated, while the younger generation—Xu Fengnian and Zhao Xun—were to follow behind. But Xu Fengnian intentionally lagged a few steps back. Princess Pei, naturally reserved, combined with Zhao Xun’s eagerness to escape—bearing no face to show—left Xu Fengnian walking side by side with Princess Pei. As they crossed the threshold, the beauty from the Beauty Rankings, who hailed from a royal and aristocratic background, shivered slightly. Her beautiful eyes, filled with the grace of the southern waters, gazed at the young man who had called her “Auntie” with such audacity. How… how dare he?!
Xu Fengnian smiled innocently and softly whispered, “Auntie, I’ve chosen a bracelet for you. I’ll have it sent to the Prince’s Mansion shortly.”
Her ears flushed red, but she said nothing.
A wave of tingling warmth spread through the part of her body hidden beneath her silken robes.
How could he be so reckless and scandalous?!
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