Zhou Qinhu somehow noticed two unfamiliar faces at the stern of the boat. They seemed to be old acquaintances of someone, so they ordered two pots of warmed rice wine and sent them over. Lin Hongyuan smiled and took the wine with both hands, thanking them. Xu Fengnian and Zhao Zhu, who should have had nothing in common, each took a pot and sat on the ground, leaning against the boat’s side, slowly sipping their wine.
Even with her current status as a ceremonial lady-in-waiting of the Dragon Palace, Lin Hongyuan would have been entitled to a seat on a Class B decorated boat. However, since her master had not explicitly requested it, she dared not take the initiative. In the vast southern territories governed by several Princes of Liyang, Prince Zhao Zhu was especially well-regarded among the common folk. Disguised in plain clothes, he once worked as a wine seller on the border for half a year. Perhaps only the Prince of Yan and Master Nalan knew the young prince’s true intentions.
Zhao Zhu drank his wine with a slightly melancholy expression. After waiting a while without hearing his companion speak, he awkwardly said, “I’ve imagined our reunion countless times over the years—would we embrace and weep bitterly, or would we discuss the world’s affairs together? But I never expected you to be so indifferent.”
Xu Fengnian replied helplessly, “We’re not that close.”
Zhao Zhu took another sip of wine with a swigging sound and fell silent.
Perhaps only Hong Chou, the female proprietor of the Jiujie Pavilion in the capital, who dared to threaten with arsenic and glare at the Zhao imperial family, knew the secret of the Dan Tong Pass, where a mother and child had once been secretly imprisoned. Inside the pass, every ten paces were heavily guarded, and outside, hundreds of cavalry patrolled day and night. The townspeople were mostly families of soldiers. At that time, Xu Fengnian met a ragged young boy who loudly declared his desire to learn swordsmanship. Though the boy was two or three years older, Xu Fengnian, even as a child, always spoke with the solemnity of an old man. In their interactions, it was Xu Fengnian who often did the lecturing. In Dan Tong Pass, Xu Fengnian finally found someone his own age to talk to, someone who seemed cold on the outside but warm-hearted within.
Looking back on that prison-like place, he realized that besides himself, the heir of Beiliang, there were also several other princes’ sons. One of them was the eldest son of Prince Huainan, Liu Ying, who died young after leaving Dan Tong Pass. At that time, Liyang already controlled the entire north. The court officials all understood the late emperor’s decision to march south, but the senior ministers, led by Chancellor Zhang Julu, were divided into two factions—debating whether to first subdue Xishu by going around or to directly attack Dachu. The latter was the more conservative opinion, as Dachu was strong and stable, with generals like the scholarly general Cao Changqing even considering marching north to confront the enemy beyond Dachu’s borders.
Therefore, many in the Liyang court hoped to delay the decisive battle until the timing was more favorable, increasing their chances of victory and avoiding the risk of failure. Otherwise, the nation might remain divided between north and south for an entire generation. However, Princes Zhao Bing, Zhao Ying, and Zhao Sui, along with generals Xu Xiao and Gu Jiantang, opposed this cautious approach. They insisted on committing the entire nation’s strength for a single decisive battle. The debates in the imperial court grew heated, and scholars arguing with soldiers found themselves unheard. In the end, the old emperor sided with Xu Xiao, sealing the decision. After leaving the court, the old chancellor angrily collided with Xu Xiao, a reflection of the delicate political balance at the time. Although Xu Xiao won the verbal battle in the court, many of the princes and generals secretly left their heirs behind in Dan Tong Pass as hostages.
Xu Fengnian never expected that the ragged young boy would grow up to be Prince Zhao Zhu. No wonder, after arriving in Beiliang, Xu Xiao often spoke highly of Zhao Bing when chatting with Xu Fengnian and Li Yishan, while mocking the other princes mercilessly.
On this side of the boat, the atmosphere was quiet, but inside the cabin, the mood was lively and festive. Even Xu Zhan, who was naturally more reserved, couldn’t resist the rounds of toasts. His face flushed with alcohol, and the warmth of the wine made him feel at ease. He conversed with the three couples, including Feng Maolin, as if simmering tea over a fire—warm and engaging. Feng Maolin was a typical northern man, rough-spoken yet perceptive, delivering just the right amount of risqué humor to liven the atmosphere without offending the three graceful women present. Another man, a former noble from the Southern Tang, initially maintained a dignified demeanor, but soon opened up, speaking eloquently. With the help of two martial heroes from the Huai region, who skillfully steered the conversation, no one felt left out.
Since the rise of the The Legend of the Jianghu Leader (Jianghu Most Wanted), those martial artists not yet pacified by the imperial court had strictly maintained a clear boundary between the martial world and politics, avoiding any criticism of the government. When gathered together, their conversations revolved around recent martial world events—the current sword champion of the Wu Clan Sword Tomb, the rise and disappearance of Wen Busheng in the capital, the mysterious sword hanging in the Martial Emperor City, and the sudden transformation of the Beiliang heir, who had unexpectedly become a formidable master.
The Xu family of Beiliang rose to power in the Liaodong region. It took several attempts by imperial ministers to finally eliminate the remnants of Beiliang. Under the influence of alcohol, the conversation grew more unrestrained, especially as Feng Maolin delved into various secrets. He carefully mentioned how his family had close ties with the Xu family in the past. His father’s generation had even fought alongside the Beiliang King before he rose to power. Once, the Beiliang King nearly stayed at the Feng household. The implication was clear—Feng Maolin had a connection to the feared Xu Ren Tu. At this point, Feng Maolin made no effort to hide his pride. The Southern Tang aristocrat, surnamed Jiang, held no strong grudge against the Beiliang King, as his homeland had been destroyed by General Gu Jiantang, who now held the prestigious title of Grand Pillar of the State. When speaking of the old man who once terrified the entire realm, even Jiang’s voice carried a hint of genuine fear.
Feng Maolin concluded by wiping the wine from his mouth with his sleeve and jokingly saying that the Xu family’s ancestral tomb was in Liaodong. If the young prince succeeded to the Beiliang throne, he might return to honor his ancestors. At that time, Feng Maolin would boldly pay a visit, though whether the new Beiliang King would receive him would depend on fate.
What Feng Maolin could never have imagined was that his son had recently kicked that very young prince hard by the lakeside.
As the boat neared the lake arena, the group stood up and went to the outer corridor to enjoy the scenery, hoping the cold winter wind would sober them up. Suddenly, Feng Maolin’s eyes widened in anger. The useless young man who had been allowed aboard only because of Xu Zhan had been joined by another equally useless man. This man had the audacity to kick Feng’s beloved son and said, “If your father won’t teach you, I will.”
The kick was delivered with subtle skill. Although Feng’s son was thrown high into the air, he was not seriously injured. However, the sight was humiliating. Feng’s wife, quick to act, caught her child mid-air, her face dark with fury, her ample bosom trembling with rage. The hot-tempered Deng Maolin did not hesitate—he drew his whip and lashed out at the young man, whose coarse words and rough appearance infuriated him.
Lin Hongyuan, who had struggled against Xu Fengnian’s cunning techniques and remained obedient like a domestic cat in front of the powerful Zhao Zhu, was completely different when dealing with outsiders. She moved swiftly, grabbing the whip mid-strike, pulling the attacker forward, and delivering a punch to Feng Maolin’s forehead. She followed with a kick to his chest. Not stopping there, she leapt high, slamming her knee into Feng’s jaw, then spun around and delivered a sweeping kick. Feng Maolin had no chance to fight back and was sent flying toward the lake. Fortunately, the aristocrat surnamed Jiang rushed out and barely managed to catch his friend before he plunged into the icy waters of the Spring Spirit Lake.
Zhao Zhu, playing the role of the wronged party, sneered, “This kid started cursing at me and then beat me up when he couldn’t win an argument. If he were really my long-lost father, I’d have endured it.”
Feng Maolin, busy coughing up blood, could not speak. The woman holding her child angrily shouted, “What a big man you are, hitting a child! Why don’t you become the Martial Alliance Leader and show me, you bastard!”
The reason she restrained her hatred was not because of her refined demeanor, but because of the terrifying speed and ferocity of the green-clad lady-in-waiting’s attack.
Zhao Zhu twirled the wine pot in his fingers and laughed, “You want to be my mother? Why don’t you ask my father if he dares to agree?”
The child appeared frightened, lowering his head, but a flash of malice flickered in his eyes as he sobbed, “This scoundrel is lying! He said he fought my mother in an eight-hundred-round battle of intestines last night and they ended in a draw. He’s going to fight her again tonight on the bed!”
The three women united in anger, glaring fiercely at the shameless rogue.
Lin Hongyuan smiled. This child was truly remarkable. At such a young age, he already knew how to stir the pot. And his timing was perfect. The prince had never said those words. In this situation, even if the prince denied it, who would believe him?
Zhao Zhu glanced sideways at Deng Maolin’s wife and rolled his eyes, “I only do that kind of thing in the dark with a woman of this appearance. When I woke up at dawn, I realized I had been tricked, and I no longer felt like giving her even a few taels as a reward.”
The man surnamed Jiang suddenly shivered and looked at Lin Hongyuan. He recognized the ivory-white tablet in her hand. Trembling, he asked, “Are you from the Dragon Palace of our Southern Lands? Are you a Caili Official or a Yukui Official?”
Lin Hongyuan sneered, “Oh, a fellow townsman! Since you know I’m from the Dragon Palace, why don’t you go cool off somewhere else?”
The full-figured woman holding the child cried out, “Does being from the Dragon Palace mean you can do whatever you want at Kuai Xue Mountain Villa? I’ll get off this boat and find Yu Chi Liangfu to settle this! I don’t believe the villa owner would side with your Dragon Palace!”
Zhao Zhu raised one hand and grinned like a hooligan, “Esteemed knights and heroines, rest assured, I’m not from the Dragon Palace, and I don’t know anyone named Ji Liu’an, Cheng Baishuang, or Lin Hongyuan.”
The man surnamed Jiang nearly spat blood. Ji Liu’an was the Dragon Palace’s ruler, Cheng Baishuang its top guest, and Lin Hongyuan was known as “Little Palace Mistress.” Any one of them was an unreachable deity. The Jiang family could barely afford to burn incense for them, let alone provoke them. This fierce man claimed not to know them, yet he recited their names so fluently. When Dragon Palace dignitaries traveled, they were always preceded by ceremonial lady-in-waiting bearing tablets. The woman’s accent also reminded Jiang of home, prompting him to finally warn the Feng couple not to overstep, lest they lose face and bring disaster upon their family, leading to their expulsion from the Southern Tang roads. Who didn’t know that the Dragon Palace was favored by Master Nalan? If word reached the fairy-like Master, a mere spit would drown their entire clan.
Zhao Zhu pointed at the child in the woman’s arms, “If you want to find Yu Chi Liangfu for justice, that’s fine. Leave the child here. Later, we’ll just dump the corpse in front of Yu Chi Liangfu, and you’ll have the law on your side.”
Xu Fengnian spoke up, “Enough.”
The stern of the boat fell silent.
Zhao Zhu obediently drank his wine, Lin Hongyuan remained silent, and Feng Maolin, after weighing his options, chose to swallow his bitterness and pull himself free from his friend’s support, staggering back into the cabin to circulate his qi according to his family’s ancestral techniques.
Xu Fengnian asked, “Zhao Zhu, how did you end up as a beggar back then? I remember that the sons of the imperial family, though living cautiously, still had food and clothing.”
Zhao Zhu tossed his empty wine pot into the lake, rubbed his face, and smiled, “It’s hard to explain. Anyway, my younger brothers must be thinking now, ‘Why didn’t our eldest brother starve to death in Dan Tong Pass?’”
Every family has its own bitter tale. Once spoken, it is both painful and hard to swallow.
Lin Hongyuan stood far away, feeling relieved. Since Xu Fengnian and the Prince were old friends, and anyone with eyes could see that their bond was genuine, not feigned, whether or not she taught Xu Fengnian the Dragon Palace’s secret art of Rubbing Inscription (Tuopei) was no longer a concern. Still, she felt a quiet disappointment—perhaps she would never get to make that Xu fellow into a beard.
Xu Fengnian turned to the man who should have been ruling the Southern Lands in luxury, “Why did you come all the way here to be Lin Hongyuan’s servant?”
Zhao Zhu leaned on the railing lazily, “I haven’t spent much time in the martial world, and I probably won’t have the chance in the future. As for helping Lin Hongyuan, I’m just learning from you how to treat beauties kindly. I can’t just parade around shouting, ‘I’m Zhao Zhu! Martial heroes, come kill me if you can!’”
Xu Fengnian smiled knowingly, “I understand that well.”
Zhao Zhu said softly, “I originally planned to sneak into Beiliang, to visit my aunt’s grave and burn three incense sticks. My father agreed and said I should bring his share. But it seems I won’t make it. You know that Chu is about to rise again. My father has decided to send me with eight thousand elite cavalry to take advantage of the chaos. If you had arrived a couple of days later, we would have missed each other.”
Xu Fengnian joked, “Looks like things are going to get chaotic again. I just don’t understand why Cao Changqing wants to restore Chu.”
Zhao Zhu gazed into the distance calmly, “It’s not strange. Just like people don’t understand why, despite all the difficulties the Zhao family has caused your Xu family, Uncle Xu still refused to betray Liyang and defect to Beiman.”
Xu Fengnian laughed, “Leaving for Beiman wouldn’t have brought thirty thousand cavalry with me. But a man still has his principles.”
Zhao Zhu turned and leaned against the railing, asking, “Xiao Nian, do you know what I admire most about Uncle Xu?”
Xu Fengnian handed Zhao Zhu the half-finished wine pot. Zhao Zhu tilted his head back, took a big swig, and tossed it to Lin Hongyuan.
Xu Fengnian said, “That he didn’t split the country along the river?”
Zhao Zhu nodded firmly, “Ever since I took command of my own troops, I’ve often simulated battles with Master Nalan. Every time, I played the role of Uncle Xu, choosing to declare myself emperor along the river. Without exception, I lost every time. At first, I thought it was because my calculations were not precise enough. But even last year, I still lost. I finally admitted that no matter how powerful Uncle Xu’s cavalry was, in the end, it was still a lonely army—lonely scholars, lonely people, lonely legitimacy. Once he declared himself emperor, he would also lose the hearts of his soldiers. If he didn’t declare himself emperor, he would disappoint many of his men. Once he did, it wouldn’t be obvious at first, but once the momentum faded, the tide would turn, and everyone would attack him. There would be no hope of a comeback. Master Nalan once said that for a commoner to sit on the dragon throne, he must wait until the commoners are truly accustomed to power. It would take at least three or four hundred years. Uncle Xu was born in the wrong era. Otherwise, right now, I’d be chatting with the Crown Prince.”
Xu Fengnian fell into thought.
Zhao Zhu suddenly grinned, “Xiao Nian, why have you become a lifeless clay Buddha? Is it because Beiliang is too cold?”
Xu Fengnian replied calmly, “When Xu Xiao first raised an army and left Liaodong, he needed money. He borrowed from many people. Many thought the money would be wasted and refused to meet him. Only the Feng family and two others, who were too polite to refuse, reluctantly gave him a total of sixty taels of silver. Even after Xu Xiao became famous, he secretly repaid them several times, but he still often spoke of those few taels, saying they were heavier than all the gold and treasures he later received. Without that small sum of silver, he might not have had the determination to leave Liaodong at all.”
Zhao Zhu nodded, sighing, “I understand.”
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