Knowing that Li Hanlin, the former crossbowman Battalion Chief, had returned from the border with military achievements, Xu Fengnian thought that since he himself wasn’t at the Prince’s Mansion (Prince’s Mansion), the young Li might possibly be at the brand-new Jinglue Mansion in Lingzhou. Thus, Xu Fengnian slightly detoured into Lingzhou, a place even more filled with indulgences than Liangzhou. Every time Li Hanlin hosted their childhood friends—those like-minded rascals—there had never been a single occasion that disappointed Xu Fengnian: visiting the finest brothels, drinking the most expensive wines, confronting the most arrogant young nobles, and teasing the most charming young beauties. Xu Fengnian still remembered how Kong Wuchi, aside from the stiff bookworm Yan Chiji, had lost his virginity there. The courtesan involved had even given him a very generous red envelope, which left Kong so embarrassed and moved that he nearly wanted to marry the worldly-wise woman in a grand wedding procession. It had taken much persuasion from Li Hanlin to stop that foolish ox from making such a mistake.
Xu Fengnian, his hair dyed black by Qing Niao, rode on horseback.
Just as Xu Fengnian had once carefully observed the roads, watchtowers, farming, and nomadic life when he first entered the Northern Wei territory, Xu Beizhi did exactly the same. He merely sighed, “Compared to the Northern Wei, Beiliang is still too small. If only our territory were larger—say, if we had swiftly annexed Xishu and Nanzhao…”
Xu Beizhi did not continue.
Since reuniting with his younger brother Huangman, Xu Fengnian had spoken little. Over the years, the two brothers had spent more time apart than together, and most of what needed to be said had already been spoken. For those truly close, there was no need for overly warm words. If they met Li Hanlin, Xu Fengnian was certain that the guy’s first words would be, “Feng Ge’er, let’s go to the Tiger Hill Tower!”
Huangman had visibly grown, his smile becoming rarer, his silence deeper, and occasionally, a firm determination flickered in his eyes. Oddly enough, Huangman had never been close to their second sister, Xu Weixiong, probably because she was exceptionally clever and perceptive, while he was simple-minded and lacking in subtlety, making them incompatible. He was only slightly closer to their eldest sister, Xu Zhihu, but even that was relative. From childhood, he had always shared a special bond only with his older brother Xu Fengnian. He feared nothing—not heaven, not earth, not even their father—except the thought of his older brother not taking him along to play.
This time, when Huangman descended from Longhu Mountain, he had actually thought to first visit their second sister at the Shangyin Academy, and even gave his beloved tiger cub to Xu Weixiong. This act greatly surprised Xu Fengnian.
Before reaching Lingzhou’s city proper, Xu Fengnian heard from tea houses and taverns that Li Hanlin, once known as the great menace of Lingzhou, had changed after being trampled by a horse. He had truly earned great military honors on the border and, upon returning home in glory, had not even visited a single brothel. He barely stayed at home for a few days before leaving with several military comrades to other places. This transformation left the common people of Lingzhou both awed and confused, unable to understand the changing world. Once, the four young nobles of Beiliang—aside from the still-playboy heir Xu Fengnian—had all changed: Yan Chiji, already somewhat talented, had become related to the emperor and benefited from Jin Lanting’s resignation, becoming a respected Huangmen official, though only a junior one. The more senior positions were filled by those with sufficient seniority. Kong Wuchi had joined the Imperial Guards, and even the once-spoiled Li Hanlin had now achieved great success. The people of Lingzhou sighed with both admiration and helplessness—was it really going to come to pass that the incapable young prince would become their Beiliang King?
Since Li Hanlin was not at home, Xu Fengnian decided not to disturb the now second-rank official Li Hanlin at the Jinglue Mansion. There was also Li Fuzhen, who would not even bother to glare coldly at him. It was better not to meet; meeting would only be more boring.
The Yulong Gang was indeed in Lingzhou, not far away, but Xu Fengnian had no mood to show off his status or indulge in luxury.
Beiliang had clearly seen an increase in traveling monks from distant regions, most of whom could only stay in small temples, with many even begging with alms bowls.
Xu Fengnian and his retinue traveled slowly along the wide road leading to Beiliang’s capital. Xu Fengnian veered off the main road by a dozen li, stopping at a well-known temple called Tingma Temple.
The reason for such a strange and uncommon name was said to be because, when the Xu family first entered Beiliang, Xu Xiao and his late wife had once stopped their horses here and entered the temple to burn incense.
It was not the first or fifteenth day of the lunar month, and the time was an unappealing midday with the sun blazing, yet there were more monks than pilgrims.
Tingma Temple’s architecture was tall and pointed, its eaves irregularly arranged, and when the wind blew, the sound of iron bells could be heard.
Before entering the temple, Xu Fengnian joked, “Do you believe in Buddhism?”
Xu Beizhi shook his head. “Most monks in temples are merely men and women who claim to have renounced worldly affairs but are far from truly doing so. Especially in large temples with thriving incense offerings, truly virtuous monks are rare. I don’t believe in Buddhism, nor do I believe in Daoism. I remember the *Madhyama Āgama Sūtra* mentions a monk who hadn’t seen a woman’s face in eighty years. I once visited the cave temples outside Dunhuang and saw murals depicting the previous lives of the Buddha—stories of self-sacrifice to feed tigers and eagles. For me, those are realms I can only admire from afar. I’ve also visited Daoist temples outside the Tianmen Gate of the Daoist Sect and read their scriptures, but none of it stirred me much. My grandfather once said that a drunken old monk speaking of the Dharma, a young prostitute buying the *Huangting Jing* with her earnings, and a child secretly using rouge to paint his face—this kind of disregard for convention is precious. Among the three teachings, Confucianism has fewer restrictions, so I think it suits me better.”
Xu Fengnian laughed. “Then will you go in and burn incense?”
Xu Beizhi replied calmly, “That doesn’t stop me from burning incense and bowing to the Buddha.”
After entering the temple, Xu Beizhi kept his distance from Xu Fengnian and his group, burning incense and bowing four times in each direction.
As he lowered his head, the scholar’s face briefly showed sorrow.
Bodhisattvas fear causes; ordinary people fear consequences.
After leaving the temple, Xu Fengnian noticed a crowd of dozens of pilgrims whispering and pointing. He originally had no intention of paying attention, but Qing Niao tugged at his sleeve, drawing his attention to a familiar slender figure standing beside a tea stall. Beside her stood a tall, graceful young scholar in a green robe, though his face was unclear. It was said that Tingma Temple was especially effective for praying for love, so many young, unmarried men and women came here. During spring outings, the place was especially crowded with incense smoke and voices.
Xu Fengnian paused briefly and overheard from the curious crowd that the scholar had bought tea and, upon seeing an old man, offered him a book, saying that the old man’s bones were extraordinary and that he was selling it cheap for three taels of silver. Normally, this kind of trick was a common swindle used by local ruffians—hiring an old man to pretend to sell books and then demanding a few coins as a bribe to avoid trouble. The ruffians usually didn’t push too hard, their demands relatively small. But this scholar was proud and stubborn. Instead of giving money, he had said something that embarrassed the old man, probably threatening to report them to the authorities. He even threw the book to the ground, angering a group of local bullies who then ganged up on him, rolling up their sleeves to beat him. By the time Xu Fengnian arrived, the onlookers were already watching the most exciting part of the show. When the ruffians saw the beautiful girl beside the scholar, their words turned vulgar. The scholar, despite being a man of integrity and pride, actually took the first punch, landing a solid hit on a burly man’s nose. But he couldn’t escape the inevitable beating from a dozen men. If the girl hadn’t knelt on the ground to protect him, he might have been bedridden for days.
Apparently fearing real trouble from the authorities, the ruffians, after beating him soundly, cursed and scattered like birds.
Xu Fengnian had seen enough and simply smiled, muttering, “Let’s go.”
Xu Beizhi frowned. “Are these idle hooligans really allowed to act so recklessly?”
Xu Fengnian suppressed a smile. “Where are there idle hooligans who are good people? If they don’t bully the weak and fear the powerful, or harass women, can they even be called ruffians? But didn’t you notice?”
Xu Beizhi caught on quickly and said with self-mockery, “I see. The hooligans beat him but didn’t rob his money, nor did any of them take advantage of the girl. That’s unusual. So this must be a setup between the scholar and the hooligans?”
Xu Fengnian mounted his horse and said, “This trick? I’ve been using it since I was thirteen or fourteen. At first, I played it with a famous courtesan in Liangzhou, but she saw through it immediately—she just didn’t expose it. Unlike this young lady from a noble family, who cried her heart out, almost ready to offer herself in marriage.”
Xu Beizhi shook his head helplessly.
Xu Fengnian said calmly, “But what you can’t doubt is that the girl is the daughter of Li Gongde, the Beiliang Jinglue. As for the scholar, he just made a big profit—spending less than ten taels of silver, and it was more effective than writing three hundred famous poems.”
Xu Beizhi looked back at the girl helping the scholar up, her tears like rain on pear blossoms. He smiled faintly and said, “You won’t expose them? You know Li Hanlin well, and you’ve known her for years too.”
Xu Fengnian replied with self-mockery, “That would be too much of a sin. I’d be ruining a pair of perfectly matched young lovers right in front of the Bodhisattva.”
Xu Beizhi rode over to Qing Niao, asking for several silver notes. Seeing that her master was only slightly curious and not opposed, Qing Niao handed him a stack of notes. Xu Beizhi then rode off and intercepted the group of ruffians, giving them the notes and saying a few words.
Then the scholar truly received a solid, thorough beating.
Riding side by side with Xu Beizhi, Xu Fengnian asked, “What did you say?”
Xu Beizhi smiled. “I told them I was Li Hanlin’s associate. The young master had long disliked that kid and had sent me to ask the gentlemen to do him a favor.”
Xu Fengnian nodded. “That explanation is airtight. The ruffians could beat him without worry. Even if the scholar, with his status as a noble’s son, found out later, he still wouldn’t dare to complain. He paid for someone to beat him himself—it’s too humiliating. Aren’t you a bit too cunning?”
Qing Niao smiled knowingly.
Xu Beizhi said calmly, “Since ancient times, scholars have been best at destroying other scholars.”
After riding off for a moment, Xu Beizhi suddenly looked regretful and asked, “Did I give them too much? Three hundred taels of silver?”
Xu Fengnian burst into laughter, pointing at the man with a heart full of schemes, far more devious than the previous scholar. He was beginning to truly appreciate Xu Beizhi.
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