It was not yet the beginning of winter, yet a heavy snowfall had already draped a white fox fur over the dignified city of Tai’an like a noblewoman.
In recent days, the capital had been in an uproar. Amidst countless promotions and honors, the heir of Beiliang had brazenly damaged the imperial road. The officials’ impeachment letters flew like snowflakes to the heavens, yet all vanished without a trace, never receiving the Emperor’s vermilion Approval. The Taoist priests of the city claimed with certainty that Xu Fengnian had relied on dark and ghostly forces, something the gods above would surely disapprove of. The common folk, busy preparing offerings for the winter thanks to Heaven, believed these words wholeheartedly. Yet another grand event stirred the capital: Lu Baijie, the vice minister of war, was to duel a wandering swordsman who had suffered three consecutive defeats atop the Eagle-View Platform. The Emperor himself had granted Lu a day’s leave, and just as the snow began to fall, Lu Baijie, dressed in a cold-weather scholar’s robe and carrying the sword Domineer, arrived gracefully, living up to his reputation of possessing the aura of a swordsman touched by immortality. Many in the capital who had doubted his qualifications to hold such a high military post were captivated by his refined demeanor even before he had drawn his blade.
Then came the carefree swordsman, finally dressed in something less ragged than usual. This fellow had first defeated a sword Maid from the Wujia Sword Grave, then the capital’s sword master Qi Jiajie, and finally the White Rivers and mountains of the Dongyue Sword Pond, earning himself the nickname “Warm Defeat.” Strangely, though his looks and demeanor were unappealing—especially to women—his three humiliating losses had made him immensely popular among the common folk and even respected by many soldiers.
As Warm Defeat slowly ascended the platform, a powerful voice from the crowd shouted, “This time, Warm Defeat might finally win one!” The downcast swordsman immediately retorted, “Go to hell!” The spectators were a mixed crowd. Women, young and old, wrinkled their brows in disdain, while rough, hearty men cheered him on with great enthusiasm.
When Warm Defeat stepped onto the stage, the Eagle-View Platform, already a scenic spot for viewing snow, was even more crowded than usual. Lu Baijie’s prestigious official status, rumors of secret visits by imperial princes, and the grand arrival of the famed beauty Li Baisi, known as the “Top Beauty and Top Songstress,” all contributed to the excitement. Yet everyone’s true curiosity lay in the appearance of the North Liang heir, who had only fought a minor skirmish with the Imperial Academy students after the court session, leaving the common folk craving more spectacle. They longed for a fierce clash between the heir and the capital’s aristocrats, a brawl of villains and their hounds.
Before the duel, Xu Fengnian had already left the Xiama Wei Inn, intending to ride to the Eagle-View Platform for a harmless spectacle. However, he noticed an extremely impoverished old Confucian scholar crouching uneasily beneath a dragon-clawed locust tree. Xu chuckled, hesitated for a moment, then returned to the inn’s backyard, ordering Qingniao to warm a pot of yellow wine. Xu, with his photographic memory, recognized the old scholar outside the inn. Years ago, when he had departed Mount Huishan by boat, his second sister Xu Wei Xiong had brought dragon sand from the Deep Earth Cave, sealed for five hundred years, to the Upper Yin Academy. This old scholar, Liu Wenbao, a remnant of the Southern Tang dynasty, had received a lukewarm evaluation from Xu Wei Xiong—calling him a jack-of-all-trades but master of none. He had boasted endlessly about analyzing court politics through the lens of prime ministers, name-dropping powerful ministers like Zhang Julu, Zhao Youling, Wang Xionggui, Yuan Guo, and Han Lin. Xu Fengnian had disliked his flamboyant speech back then and had refused him entry. He hadn’t expected that after returning home, the old man would rush to the capital to intercept him, revealing his intense desire for fame and fortune.
Around noon, Tong Ziliang, the innkeeper, and his daughter Tong Nian arrived with several heavy rosewood food boxes. As winter approached, the capital favored stewed lamb and dumplings. Besides these, there was also a pot of tender duck with aged ginger. Xu Fengnian had changed into casual clothes and was sitting under the eaves, watching the snowfall. Seeing the pair bringing lunch, he walked over to help the young woman carry the slightly hot food box. Ordinary families could not afford such luxurious boxes, nearly as fine as imperial wood, which Tong had borrowed to match the dignity of the Beiliang heir. The gentle girl, whose delicate features contrasted sharply with her burly father, blushed as she handed over the box, her hands slightly burned, twisting behind her back. Ever since the prince had learned her name, he had teased her by calling her “Xiao Nian,” making her shy and flustered.
Qingniao had already set up tables and chairs under the eaves. Xu Fengnian invited Tong Ziliang and Tong Nian to join him for lunch. Tong Ziliang hesitated, unwilling to break etiquette, but eventually gave in to the prince’s insistence, sitting with his daughter on one bench while Xu Fengnian, Qingniao, and Xuan Yuan Qingfeng occupied the other sides. As the food boxes were opened, releasing waves of steam, Tong Ziliang quietly reported, “Your Highness, there is an old Confucian scholar waiting beneath the tree outside the inn.”
“Come, Xiao Nian, I am the guest, so you must taste first.”
Xu Fengnian used chopsticks to tear apart the stewed duck, its aroma blending with the ginger and meat, and placed a piece into the young woman’s bowl, teasing her. Then he nodded to Tong Ziliang, saying, “I know who that man is. The inn need not pay him any mind.”
Tong Ziliang nodded. Seeing his shy daughter blushing and too timid to pick up her chopsticks, he smiled inwardly. He had no ulterior motives for bringing his daughter here; he simply wanted her to see the eldest son of a great general. Strangely, his older children had visited once and then either dared not or refused to return, which had made Tong Ziliang furious at home, even breaking bowls in anger. But now that his youngest daughter was unafraid, he was more than happy to create opportunities for her. As for his daughter’s budding feelings, Tong Ziliang, a rough man, understood but did not know how to address them. He assumed that as time passed and the prince did not stay long at the Xiama Wei Inn, her feelings would fade like snow melting without needing to be swept away.
After the hearty lunch, Tong Ziliang rose to leave, instructing his daughter to slowly clean up the dishes. Xu Fengnian gazed at the old locust tree in the courtyard, now covered in a thick layer of snow, and turned to Qingniao, saying, “Take a bag of silver and toss it to Liu Wenbao outside. Say nothing.”
Qingniao nodded, went inside to prepare a small pouch of silver coins, and quietly left the courtyard. Xuan Yuan Qingfeng looked at the remaining food on the table and asked, “A meal’s kindness carries more weight than a bag of silver. Is this how you buy people’s hearts? Isn’t it a bit clumsy?”
Xu Fengnian smiled and shook his head. “The nobility raising retainers is like refined scholars training young maids or training hawks and horses. You must first break their pride, but not their backbone. I cannot open my doors to everyone. I must first know how much pride and integrity these people chasing wealth and honor truly possess. If Liu Wenbao threw the silver away in anger, cursing me for not appreciating his worth, that would show his pride outweighs his integrity. Such a stubborn scholar deserves to remain obscure. But if he accepts the silver, bowing and begging Qingniao to let him see me, boasting of his talents, I truly won’t care. Beiliang does not need those who write flowery prose praising achievements. In that barren land, rigid scholars cannot survive, and cunning scholars bring no benefit. Let’s bet on what Liu Wenbao will do. A small bet for fun—how about a hundred taels of gold?”
Tong Nian, who had been listening intently, opened her mouth in shock at the mention of a hundred taels of gold.
Xuan Yuan Qingfeng sneered, “Fine, I bet the old fool won’t even touch that ‘handout,’ ignoring it and continuing to wait in the snow.”
Xu Fengnian shook his head. “I bet he takes the silver and keeps waiting for me to change my mind.”
Qingniao returned quickly and quietly said, “Liu Wenbao accepted the silver. He said he’ll go buy food and a warm fox fur first, then come back to wait. Before leaving, he even asked if the inn had any leftover scraps.”
Tong Nian covered her mouth and giggled.
Xuan Yuan Qingfeng clicked her tongue. “That old man’s face is as thick as yours. You two will probably get along well in the future.”
Xu Fengnian laughed. “Then we both win and lose. Let’s bet again? Add another hundred taels. This time, we bet on how many days Liu Wenbao will wait. Of course, only if I continue to ignore him.”
Xuan Yuan Qingfeng said calmly, “Then I need to know how many days you plan to stay in the capital.”
Before Xu Fengnian could answer, she added confidently, “I bet the old man will wait as many days as you stay.”
Xu Fengnian stood up, catching the cool snowflakes in his palm. “I hope I lose. Two hundred taels of gold for a true scholar—Beiliang won’t lose.”
Standing under the eaves, Xu Fengnian caught a handful of snow without realizing it.
The girl also named “Xiao Nian” watched him, entranced, not noticing when he turned to look at her.
Xuan Yuan Qingfeng lay on a rattan chair, swaying gently, watching the snow with her hand on her forehead.
Xu Fengnian waved his hand in front of the gentle girl, smiling warmly. She finally snapped out of her trance, blushing deeply, wishing she could hide in the snow. Knowing her shyness, unlike the woman lying beside her, Xu Fengnian repeated, “I heard you play the guqin. Lend it to me once?”
She bit her lip and nodded. “I’ll go get it for you.”
Xu Fengnian smiled kindly. “No rush.”
Though she nodded hard, she still turned and ran, clearly not listening.
Xuan Yuan Qingfeng smirked slightly, murmuring, “Love-struck.”
The girl ran quickly, her fingers trembling as she removed the cloth covering the guqin. Xu Fengnian thanked her, took the modest instrument, and with a flick of his sleeve, twelve flying swords hovered like a table.
Xu Fengnian closed his eyes, his arms suspended, not yet striking the strings.
In Beiliang, a million households, how many warriors’ bones lie beneath their armor?
Who dares beat the beauty’s drum? Who is the butcher of the mortal world?
The stars fill the sky—who sleeps?
As Xu Fengnian lowered his head, his eyes reddened, lips trembling silently.
With a sudden strike of the strings—
Strike!
A glorious song of mourning for Beiliang.
The snow fell as the guqin sang, like the thunderous hooves of Beiliang’s iron cavalry.
Beneath the dragon-clawed locust tree at the Xiama Wei Inn, the old Confucian scholar, having bought a worn fox fur with the silver, was stuffing meat buns into his mouth. Upon hearing the guqin’s sound, he paused, leaning against the icy tree, closing his eyes, and murmuring, “A pot of green ant wine would be perfect.”
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage