The capital city.
When a woman marries into the royal family, no matter what her previous status was, she can no longer act freely.
When Yan Dongwu saw her younger brother Yan Chiji and the well-known martial artist Kong Wuchi visiting together, her mood inevitably improved. Moreover, she had married the refined and reserved Fourth Prince, who, although indulged in poetry, painting, and musical instruments, was still a man of immense fortune and status—blessings so great that no woman could dare to complain. Since their marriage, they had treated each other with mutual respect. Yan Dongwu herself didn’t even know why she would ever feel unhappy. The attendants and servants in the mansion always felt close and warm toward the Princess Consort, secretly praising her as a true lady of noble upbringing. Any lingering doubts about her origins from Beiliang had long since vanished. Yan Dongwu was well-read and cultured, and it was clear that the Fourth Prince was also very satisfied with this marriage. He had even distanced himself from his usual circle of friends—sons of high-ranking officials—and today, together with Yan Dongwu, he received her younger brother Yan Chiji and the famous martial artist Kong Wuchi. Known for his lack of pretension, the Fourth Prince treated these two peers with great courtesy, personally serving tea and water. He joked easily with his bookish brother-in-law. Most impressively, after fulfilling all the proper formalities, he tactfully excused himself, leaving the Princess Consort alone to chat with the two men.
Previously, Yan Dongwu had allowed her affection for her husband to extend to those close to him, and likewise her dislike. Her impression of Kong Wuchi had not been particularly good. However, after moving to the capital, she had several conversations with Kong Wuchi, a physically strong but simple-hearted man, and found it difficult to dislike him. Especially when her own younger brother initially clashed with the capital’s young nobles and often suffered in silence, it was Kong Wuchi, who had a close relationship with the Second Prince, who stepped in and helped him regain his dignity. Moreover, both the Yan and Kong families were scholarly clans rarely seen in Beiliang, and upon arriving in the capital—a city known for its exclusivity—they naturally had to support each other. As Yan Dongwu spoke intimately with her younger brother, offering advice on how to be clever and perceptive while working in the capital’s official offices, Kong Wuchi sat upright and quietly, smiling in his usual simple manner.
Throughout the entire visit, the three of them never mentioned a certain name.
After departing the grand mansion, the Fourth Prince still saw them off at the door with great hospitality, maintaining his courteous manner from beginning to end. Yan Chiji and Kong Wuchi got into the same carriage together. As they rode off, Kong Wuchi naively asked, “Yan Chiji, your sister seems to still dislike our Young Master. She didn’t even mention him once.”
Yan Chiji’s face darkened slightly as he softly replied, “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Kong Wuchi continued bluntly, “Heh, I used to think Feng Ge’er could become your brother-in-law. Back then, I always regretted not having a sister and was really jealous of you.”
After some time serving in officialdom and shedding his scholarly idealism, Yan Chiji changed the subject with a bitter smile, “I heard that Hanlin joined the Beiliang army. That guy really loves doing stupid things.”
Kong Wuchi frowned, “How is that stupid? If a man doesn’t go to the battlefield to fight, can he even call himself a real man?”
Yan Chiji glared at him.
Kong Wuchi muttered, “You’re not a real man.”
Yan Chiji kicked him. Unfazed by the pain, Kong Wuchi didn’t even bother brushing off the kick. Looking out the window, he sighed, “I really miss Feng Ge’er. No matter how much green ant wine I drink, it’s just not the same anymore. It’s just not fun like it used to be.”
Yan Chiji sighed helplessly, “And you call yourself a real man?”
Kong Wuchi then grabbed Yan Chiji around the neck, wrestling playfully with him.
Back in the mansion, everyone knew the Princess Consort kept a rare parrot known for its clumsy mimicry, perched by the study window.
Yan Dongwu stood by the window, daring only to whisper her thoughts to the parrot.
From a distance in the corridor, the Fourth Prince saw this scene, leaned against a pillar, placed his hands behind his head, and muttered to himself.
※※※
In accordance with ancient customs from the previous dynasty, high-ranking officials of the three central departments—the Zhongshu, Shangshu, and Menxia—were required to take turns staying overnight in their respective offices. Even the venerable old Grand Tutor Sun Xiji, a former official of the Western Chu, was no exception. Tonight, the Chief Minister Zhang Julu received the overnight register from a minor clerk in the duty office, signed his name, and took it with him, returning it the next morning. The clerk had long been accustomed to this and did not flatter him with excessive praise. Before Zhang Julu, the so-called “blue-eyed man,” became Chief Minister, senior officials regarded overnight duty as a burden, and few high-ranking ministers actually followed the rule. Especially among the prestigious officials of the Hanlin Academy, few showed up for duty. The clerks in charge of the register had never dared to say a word. However, after Zhang Julu took power, he expelled several Hanlin scholars from court on his first night of duty, and since then, no one dared to slack off. With peace prevailing throughout the empire, the saying “the empire is decided in the night within the forbidden palace” gradually gained popularity.
That night, after handling several urgent matters, Zhang Julu joined his old friend and fellow scholar, Huan Wen, the Left Sacrificial Official of the National Academy, for a quiet conversation by the fire with some warmed wine. Zhang Julu did not enjoy drinking, but Huan Wen, a man of equal prestige in the scholarly world as the head of the Shangyin Academy, loved his wine. Even the Emperor had specially permitted Huan Wen to drink lightly during his overnight duty, though he had explicitly forbidden him from becoming drunk.
Huan Wen, a refined and thin old scholar, teased, “Old blue-eyed man, you look quite cheerful tonight. So, you actually took the thirteen policies written by the ghostwriter for the Crown Prince of Jing’an, Zhao Xun, as a genuine remedy for the empire?”
Zhang, narrowing his eyes, replied, “Poison tastes sweet, while medicine is bitter. Once these thirteen policies are implemented, at least half the officials in court will be in an uproar, and even the military will be shaken. How could I not be pleased?”
Huan Wen pointed at his old friend, who stood second only to the Emperor, and scolded, “In the first memorial, the strategy of ‘calculating in the temple’ even subtly criticized the National Academy, calling us all useless scholars who only know how to read books for fame, standing and speaking without knowing the hardships of the common people. I don’t mind—it takes more than that to hurt my thick skin. But the newly appointed Sacrificial Official Song was furious.”
Zhang Julu sneered, “That calligrapher and literary giant was fortunate enough to only go to your National Academy. At least now we can still exchange a smile when we meet. If he had gone to the Zhongshu or Menxia provinces, I would have had to deal with him as an enemy for life.”
Huan Wen chuckled, “This father and son from the Song family are hailed as literary giants destined to dominate the literary world for a hundred years. Be careful, old blue-eyed man. If they bear a grudge against you, you’ll have to worry about having your reputation smeared after your death.”
Zhang Julu, with his blue eyes and purple beard, leaned forward to warm his hands by the fire, speaking calmly, “Pen and knife—whether it’s a pen or a knife, it kills without drawing blood. I think it’s no less dangerous than General Gu Jiantang.”
Huan Wen took a sip of wine, narrowed his eyes, and lowered his voice, “The Qing Party has already collapsed, but on the southern roads of Jiangnan, the Lu brothers have risen—one is now Minister of Rites, the other Deputy Minister of War. They are gaining momentum. Aren’t you worried?”
Zhang Julu replied indifferently, “Why worry about such things? I only fear droughts, floods, and locust plagues.”
Huan Wen shook his head in silence.
He feared natural disasters, not human ones.
To wield such power as a minister—what more could one ask for?
※※※
At Gu niu Ridge on Mount Hui, two senior guests, Huang Fangfo and Hong Biao, watched as the young woman, the master of the mountain, placed one hand on the head of a kneeling guest whose martial cultivation was formidable. In an instant, she drained all his internal energy, leaving not a single drop behind. When she released him, his body remained unchanged, but his life force was completely extinguished. The two men who had secretly brought him here exchanged glances filled with bitterness and fear. Though they had seen this scene many times before, each time she absorbed the energy faster, and the guests died more swiftly, their dread only grew.
The young woman, now the head of the Xuan Yuan family, smiled and asked, “Uncle Huang, Uncle Hong, how many is this now?”
Huang Fangfo steadied his nerves and replied as calmly as he could, “The thirty-ninth.”
Xuan Yuan Qingfeng, who had seized power during the chaos at the Snow Plains, bent down gracefully, gazing at the corpse with wide, unseeing eyes. Her smile was innocent and bright, like a young girl’s, as she said, “Don’t worry, Uncles. No matter how ruthless I may be, I would never harm the two of you, who were my father’s friends.”
Huang Fangfo murmured softly, “May the young lady soon reach the peak of martial cultivation.”
Xuan Yuan Qingfeng straightened, stretched, and not only did her face glow with vitality, but visible strands of purple energy swirled around her. She spoke lightly, “If my father were still alive, he would never say such words. He might even see me as a demoness worthy of death and would never again allow me to drink a jar of Gui Hua wine on my birthday.”
Huang Fangfo dared not speak further.
Hong Biao crossed his arms, closed his eyes, and began to meditate.
Xuan Yuan Qingfeng frowned slightly and asked, “Yuan Tingshan must have somehow obtained the martial arts insights of Xuan Yuan Da Pan, which caused his swordsmanship to skyrocket. Otherwise, with his temperament, he would never dare challenge Gu Jiantang. And our neighbor on Mount Longhu, a young Taoist priest of the Ning generation, managed to block a single sword strike from the Peach Blossom Sword God Deng Ta’a. Compared to these two men, who do you think is stronger? Also, during the Buddhist-Taoist debate at the Golden Lotus Summit, a man named Zhao brought a bald woman. Not only did she discuss Zen with Li Dangxin, but Li even called her the second person in the world to reach the Great Realm of the Indestructible Diamond, after the White-robed Monk. When will I be able to rival her?”
Huang Fangfo dared not speak recklessly and shook his head, “It’s hard to say.”
Xuan Yuan Qingfeng suddenly laughed, “Never mind these troubles. Oh, by the way, as the saying goes, ‘a rabbit doesn’t eat the grass around its own burrow.’ It’s not appropriate for me to keep attacking the guests on the mountain. Would you two Uncles mind going into the jianghu to capture some martial artists for me?”
Before Huang Fangfo could speak, Hong Biao opened his eyes and bowed, “I shall leave the mountain today.”
Xuan Yuan Qingfeng waved her hand, and the barefoot woman walked alone to the cliffside at the left of the vast hall. The mountain wind howled, and her sleeves fluttered.
She slowly returned to her private quarters and sat before a mirror, applying her makeup.
After finishing her eyebrows and applying her face paint, she held the mirror in one hand and pointed at her reflection with the other, suddenly laughing through tears, crying as she said, “What an ugly girl.”
※※※
In the Beiliang Prince’s Mansion, two seemingly insignificant people had quietly disappeared.
One was Murong Tonghuang, wearing a mask of perfect disguise, heading north.
The other was Shu Xiu, heading south.
And Xu Fengnian, alone with only his saber, left Feihu City once more, slowly riding northward, alone again.
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