In the political circles of Liyang, there was a tradition of “Three Unities”—fellow disciples from the same school, fellow townsfolk from the same region, and candidates who passed the imperial examination in the same year. Minister of Personnel Zhao Youling and Vice Minister of Works Yuan Guo were a perfect example of this. Both studied under Zhang Julu, both hailed from the humble families of Jinmen Prefecture in the old Northern Han dynasty, and both took the imperial exams during the Yonghui era. One became the top scholar, the other the second-place scholar, bringing sudden fame to Jinmen Prefecture, which had rarely produced successful candidates before. If one were to add a shared interest, then Zhao and Yuan could be said to have four unities. Their mansions were only a few hundred steps apart, and their frequent visits to each other’s homes had long become commonplace to the neighbors.
Today, Yuan Guo was not the only guest at the Zhao residence—Zhao’s father-in-law, Yin Maochun, had also arrived. Both were high-ranking ministers and brought along their children, who were all of similar age. The younger generations of the three families were mostly close friends. Wang Yuoran, the youngest son of Minister of Revenue Wang Xionggui, once drunkenly flirted with Zhao Youling’s second daughter, which naturally caused a huge uproar. To make matters worse, he even beat up Han Xingyan, the only son of the Vice Minister of Justice, who had tried to mediate the situation. Unfortunately for Wang Yuoran, he managed to offend four influential families in one go. However, this incident ironically earned him the reputation of being the most notorious young nobleman in the capital. Although his father, the Minister of Revenue, dragged him to kneel in apology in front of the Zhao mansion for half a day, it did not stop Wang Yuoran from becoming the talk of the town in Taian City.
Yuan Guo had no wife or children, yet he was oddly the most beloved among the younger generation. While Zhao Youling and Yin Maochun, the two In-laws, sipped tea brewed from stored winter snow, Yuan Guo was still mingling with a group of young men and women, drinking with them, pouring wine for them, and never feeling beneath his dignity. The dozen or so younger relatives were so accustomed to this that they found it perfectly natural. For example, Yin Maochun’s eldest son, Yin Changgeng, used to urinate on Yuan’s lap when he was a child, and the two had even jokingly agreed that Yin would take care of Yuan in his old age. When Han Xingyan first went to a pleasure house for drinks, it was Yuan who had lured him there. This infuriated the old scholar Han Lin, who stormed barefoot to Yuan’s mansion and cursed loudly in front of the closed gates. Yuan, however, opened the door with no hint of guilt, one hand digging in his ear and the other holding a wine pot he had swiped from a brothel, grinning and offering Han a drink, which only made Han Lin angrier. From then on, Han Lin refused to speak to Yuan, but Han Xingyan continued to sneak out to drink with Yuan whenever he could, and Han Lin could do nothing to stop him.
Yin Changgeng and Han Xingyan, both legitimate officials in the capital, had attended that morning’s court session. However, their ranks were too low to enter the main hall, so they could not hear the political intrigues unfolding inside. At that moment, Yuan Guo was sitting on a couch, holding Yin Maochun’s eldest grandson in his arms, using chopsticks to dip wine for the child to taste, and vividly recounting the tales of the court. Yuan’s embellished storytelling captivated the listeners. Coincidentally, the daughter of Chancellor Zhang, who was still unmarried, and the younger daughter of Yin Chuxiang entered the room. Like a mischievous old man, Yuan shamelessly asked the two girls to massage his shoulders. Zhang Gaoxia, known among the young nobles of Taian City for her notorious reputation, glared at him. Drawing her sword slightly from its sheath and then forcefully returning it, she made her displeasure clear. Yuan, familiar with her temper, could only chuckle awkwardly. Fortunately, Yin Heyun was more obedient and sat by the couch, gently massaging Yuan’s shoulders.
Yin Changgeng stole a glance at the tall and statuesque Zhang Gaoxia before quickly looking away, turning to chat with his wife, who had returned from her parents’ home, about household matters. Han Xingyan remained expressionless, though he sighed inwardly. He knew all too well of Yin’s feelings for Zhang Gaoxia. Before becoming a groom, all his friends had congratulated Yin on marrying the daughter of Minister Zhao, praising the match between the Yin and Zhao families as perfectly matched in status and talent. Yet on that night, Yin had only dragged Han to a small tavern to drown his sorrows. Han exhaled deeply—how easy it was for love to entangle, yet how difficult to untangle! Strangely enough, in terms of beauty, Zhang Gaoxia was not even as attractive as Yin’s current wife. With her green eyes like her father Chancellor Zhang, and a reputation for being unlearned, she seemed destined to remain unmarried. Yet she could rival even the Crown Princess, known as the “Female Scholar” in the court’s “Beauty Rankings.” No man had ever bested her in debate, and her swordsmanship was equally formidable. She had studied under Song Nianqing of the Eastern Yue Sword Pool and the capital’s top swordsman, Qi Jiajie. She was no mere decorative damsel—Tangxi Sword Immortal Lu Baijie had even praised her martial talent. Even the eldest prince, Zhao Wu, had suffered at her hands. In Taian City, she was truly a fearless female warrior, capable of walking wherever she pleased. Alone, no one could stand against her in battle. And as for family background? Her biological father was Zhang Julu, her adoptive father was Huan Wen, and she had many high-ranking officials like Yuan Guo, who had once been part of Zhang’s faction, to back her up. Who would dare oppose her?
Yuan Guo was about to dip his chopsticks into wine again for Yin Chuxiang’s young grandson when Zhang Gaoxia, unable to watch any longer, snatched the child away. Yuan could only change the subject, asking, “Where was I?”
Zhao Youling’s youngest son, Zhao Wenwei, still a boy, eagerly replied, “You were just talking about how Jin Sanlang from the Imperial Academy ended up with a black eye!”
Yuan chuckled, “Right! That punch came from our old friend Huan Tan Tan Weng. Truly a sharp and ruthless strike. Poor Jin Jijiu first angered Master Yao, and now he’s been beaten by Huan, who was once his mentor in the bureaucracy. Misfortunes never come singly! So you young rascals, remember this: when you become officials, you must keep a low profile and not get too cocky. There’s always someone higher. Even your uncles and fathers, despite their lofty positions, can’t escape this rule. Hehe, none of us are immune.”
The three families were close enough that there were no taboos among them, especially with Yuan around. Han Xingyan furrowed his brows and whispered, “Uncle Yuan, although Jin Jijiu’s obsession with attacking Beiliang for political gain may be distasteful, it does serve the interests of the empire. And his insights are often brilliant, making people want to applaud. His clashes with Master Yao in the Imperial Academy have actually benefited Minister Zuo. Why would Huan The old man strike him? Won’t this reach the Emperor’s ears?”
Yuan took a sip of the strong wine, instinctively rubbing his ears, and laughed, “Huan The old man doesn’t care about such trivial matters. You kids are too young. Back when I and your fathers entered the court, the Chancellor was very patient, but Huan The old man was the one with a temper. I was often scolded by him, with him grabbing my ears. Oh, and about Huan The old man beating Jin Lanting—don’t let this go beyond this room. If it spreads, your fathers will scold me to death.”
Yuan noticed Yin Changgeng hesitating to speak, so he drained his cup in one go, shouted in satisfaction, and held out his cup for Han to refill. He dropped a peanut into the cup. The wine was of the finest quality, clinging to the rim without spilling even when the cup was overfilled. Yuan stared at the ripples in the cup, lost in thought, then lifted his head, regained his composure, and smiled as he gently swirled the wine. “I know what you’re most eager to ask. It’s not that I can’t tell you, but…”
The female warrior, who had been playing with Yin Maochun’s grandson, muttered, “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”
Yuan chuckled, then tilted his head back and drank the strong wine in one gulp, chewing the peanut soaked in alcohol, his face filled with delight. “The eighteenth of the Wu Feng titles, ‘Li,’ was originally a derogatory posthumous title. When Master Song wrote the《Jie Shi》, the previous emperor had secretly ordered to change it into a commendatory title, though it remained the lowest among the eighteen commendatory titles. The old Chancellor, who was also my mentor’s mentor—yes, the master of Zhang Julu’s daughter—had long held a grudge against the Prince of Beiliang. The previous emperor’s move was not without its own intentions. This intention finally surfaced this year on the Awakening of Insects. The current emperor’s choice of this title was also carefully considered. With the emperor’s magnanimity, he would never bestow a derogatory title on General Xu. If he had given one of the other seventeen commendatory titles openly, the court would have been in chaos that day. Now, let’s talk about Beiliang. From the young prince who inherited the title of Prince of Beiliang, will he accept or reject this ambiguous posthumous title? If he refuses the imperial decree…”
Han Xingyan chuckled, “Do you think he wants to tell the world that the Xu family is rebelling?”
Yuan put down his cup, smiled at Han’s remark, and continued, “If Beiliang accepts the decree, given their loyalty to the old prince, the new prince would surely lose the support of the army and the people, effectively tearing down their own gates. So, what do you think? Will the young Prince of Beiliang accept or reject the decree? Han, tell me!”
Han thought for a moment and smiled, “I bet he still dares not refuse. He’ll just try to downplay it, pretending it’s nothing, and suppress the issue.”
Yin frowned and said, “Difficult. Scholars are watching closely. Even if Beiliang blocks the news, the common people may not know much, but how can all those scholars remain uninformed? Worse still, accepting the decree would make him seem unfilial, and the thirty thousand troops would look down on the new prince. Refusing it would make him seem disloyal, and the scholars rushing to Beiliang would also have their doubts. Either way, the new prince is in a tough spot. One wrong move, and he’ll end up with no support at all.”
Yuan glanced at Zhang Gaoxia, twirled his wine cup, and softly laughed, “This is just the opening move in the new game between the court and Beiliang. What comes next is even more complicated. The new prince must observe three years of mourning. No one in the court will plead for him to be exempted from mourning duties. This middle game, which will last three years, is going to be a headache. Even if he survives the middle game and resolves the internal troubles, he may still face a sudden endgame. If the Northern Wei insists on attacking Beiliang first, heh…”
Yuan fell silent.
Han whispered, “It sounds like the future of this new Prince of Beiliang is going to be pretty bleak.”
Yin sneered, “Extremely bleak.”
Yuan rose from the couch, swaying unsteadily, and said, “I’m drunk, I’m drunk. I’ll go find your fathers for some tea to sober me up.”
Habitually rubbing his earlobes, Yuan staggered out of the room. A cold spring breeze hit him, making him shiver. He turned and saw Zhang Gaoxia following behind. He slowed his pace and said bitterly, “I, Yuan Guo, am the most useless of all the ‘Spring of Yonghui’ scholars. Those years, Huan The old man scolded me the most fiercely, and disappointed Chancellor Zhang the most.”
Zhang Gaoxia coldly replied, “Indeed, the biggest disappointment!”
Yuan pretended not to hear and continued walking, his steps unsteady.
The once-famous second-place scholar, now merely a Vice Minister in the Ministry of Works, stopped in front of a huge stone from the Chunshen Lake, nearly two men tall, and burst into laughter.
※※※
It was strange that Chancellor Zhang Julu, despite his great power, was neither a strict nor a loving father. He never interfered in family matters and treated his children with indifference. His eldest son seemed to have inherited none of his father’s scholarly talent and remained mediocre, serving as a county magistrate in a remote district with fewer than three thousand households for six full years without any promotion. In fact, even today, the officials in that region did not know that he was the Chancellor’s son. The second son was merely a bookish scholar, unable to enter the Hanlin Academy even with his family’s influence, and remained unknown. The youngest son was an idle good-for-nothing, lacking even the courage to do wrong. Eventually, even the sons of noble families like Wang Yuoran, whose backgrounds were far inferior, no longer wanted to associate with him, finding him too shameful to bring along. Zhang’s daughters married into ordinary families, and when they returned home, they rarely saw their father. Even when Zhang had free time at home, he remained locked in his study, never showing his face. The daughters dared only to stand outside the study door with their husbands, who trembled in fear at the sight of the Chancellor, and timidly ask how he was. Zhang would merely respond with a faint “Hmm,” or often ignore them altogether.
The only one who could occasionally speak to the all-powerful Chancellor was his unmarried daughter, Zhang Gaoxia.
Today, the Chancellor sat alone in his dimly lit study—the most forbidden place in the Zhang mansion, where even Zhang Gaoxia rarely entered. Over the years, only a handful of people had been allowed to sit here. Huan Wen was one of them, for there was only one chair in the room. Whoever sat there meant the Chancellor had to stand.
Zhang had no interest in fine wine or delicacies, nor did he take concubines. His wife was the daughter of his teacher, the old Chancellor. When she married Zhang, there was a saying in the capital: “The daughter of a Chancellor marries the Top Scholar.” After her husband became Chancellor, she was treated with utmost respect, even by Empress Zhao Zhi. Yet their relationship was cold and distant, with barely a word exchanged in a year. Zhang had no interest in the game of Go, but he was deeply fond of Xiangqi, the game created by Huang Longshi. Except for Huan Wen, he rarely played with others, preferring to play against himself. For over twenty years, he had never tired of it.
At this moment, Zhang was moving red and black chess pieces on the board. The ivory set had been a gift from Yuan Guo many years ago. While there were always new Top Scholar, bangyan, and tanhua every year, the group of “young talents” who entered the political arena during the brief four years of Yonghui Spring were now the powerful ministers of today’s court, destined to be praised in history. Among these aging officials, Yuan Guo was the most “interesting.” He was widely acknowledged as the most talented, yet his reputation was the least known. His personality was the most eccentric, the most reckless. In the eyes of ordinary officials, this made him a “free-spirited scholar,” but for someone aspiring to become a Grand Secretary, such an image was fatal. Thus, when it came to who would inherit Zhang’s legacy and replace the “Zhang Faction” with a new surname, no one ever thought of Yuan, the idle Vice Minister in the Ministry of Works. Not even Zhao Youling, Wang Xionggui, or Yin Maochun, let alone Han Lin, the Vice Minister of Justice, who was of similar rank but more prominent. It was hard to imagine that Yuan was the first among the five to cross the fourth-rank threshold. Unfortunately, a good start meant little in the grand scheme. The bureaucracy valued gradual progress, and staying power became increasingly important. Without it, one could only end up with a glorious beginning but a pitiful end.
Zhang Julu held a chess piece between two fingers, lightly tapping a pile of “dead” stones stacked at the edge of the board, muttering to himself, “It’s a good game, but it lacks refinement. It’s not yet a perfect move that can be executed with ease. Right now, it’s too restrained, so the next step can only be either not releasing it at all or releasing far too much. But it’s understandable; after losing for so many years, if you don’t turn the tide now, you might never get another chance to win again.”
The Chief Minister glanced at the scattered pieces on the board, lost his interest, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the courtyard, green willows were just beginning to turn yellow, unevenly, indeed signaling the arrival of spring.
Zhang Julu fell into deep thought, turned around, and picked up a red chess piece from the board, engraved with the character “Xiang.”
Zhang Julu smiled.
“Before Yuan Benxi has time to scheme, it’s time to hand this over to you. One thing for another.”
※※※
Around the time the imperial edict should have reached the border of Beiliang Dao, a rider quietly left the city at dawn.
This white-robed man, holding a jar of plum wine at an angle, rode straight out of the capital along the royal road.
On this day, during the morning court session, amidst the dull rumbling of spring thunder outside the palace hall, the Chief Eunuch of the Office of Ceremonial, Song Tanglu, read three imperial edicts: Minister of Rites Lu Daolin resigned from his post and retired to his hometown. Yuan Guo, Vice Minister of Works, was appointed to replace him.
Chen Zhibao resigned from his post and was enfeoffed as a prince to rule in Xishu. The Minister of War was succeeded by Vice Minister Lu Baijie.
The capital was shaken.
It was rumored that several upright old ministers stumbled forward, knelt on the floor, weeping bitterly, directly appealing to the emperor, with no subtlety in their words, straightforwardly pleading not to let Chen Zhibao escape like a tiger returning to the mountains, warning that Beiliang was a prior example of nurturing a tiger to one’s own peril, and asking how it could be allowed to happen again with Chen Zhibao gaining power.
The emperor replied with the words, “No further business; the court is adjourned.”
Thus, the two newly appointed ministers, Yuan Guo and Lu Baijie, who had each been promoted, received few congratulations.
At dusk, a middle-aged white-robed monk entered the city in a bizarre manner, accompanied by a woman. At this time, everyone knew the court was vigorously suppressing Buddhism, and the guards at the city gate stared wide-eyed at the odd couple, utterly perplexed—was this monk coming to Tai’an City to die? Even the citizens of the capital, accustomed to grand spectacles, looked askance, their eyes filled with something akin to watching a monster.
The ordinary-looking woman teased softly, “Back then, I wanted to see you, but standing on tiptoe wasn’t enough—I had to jump up and down to catch a glimpse.”
The white-robed monk rubbed his bald head with a warm smile, “Back then, I thought some girl had amazing leg strength, jumping for miles.”
The woman pinched him, huffing, “Once we get to the capital, don’t flirt with any fox spirits!”
“How could I?”
“If even one shameless fox spirit comes after you, just wait—don’t think I won’t deal with her!”
“That might be a bit difficult…”
“Go ahead, keep boasting! Look around—does anyone even recognize you now? Besides, those women who used to chase after you are all old and faded. I don’t care about them at all!”
“Honey, if they’re not in your eyes, they’re in my heart. It’s better they stay in my heart than in your sight!”
“Are you asking for a beating or what?”
“…”
“Is there really someone in this world who believes eating your flesh grants immortality?”
“Sigh.”
“If the heart is insincere, what good is sixty years of vegetarianism and discipline? If the heart is unkind, what use is a hundred years of monastic cultivation? I say, burning incense and praying to gods and Buddhas is nothing compared to building your own blessings and becoming a Bodhisattva.”
“Oh? Honey, did you go listen to Abbot Huixin’s sermon too? I remember you loved those!”
“Hmph! Back then I went to borrow money from the old abbot. He had it, but he insisted he didn’t, and just kept preaching this nonsense at me! Monks shouldn’t lie—it’s disgraceful!”
“Ha, honey, what Abbot Huixin said wasn’t a lie. To him, that money was like bricks for the temple or pages in the sutras…”
“Oh? But wasn’t that money secretly hidden with the old abbot by you, so that Foolish North and South could sneak it away?”
“Haha, honey, look look, Tai’an City is so crowded with people!”
“I miss our Li-zi, and I miss Nanbei too.”
“I miss them too.”
“Hey hey, who are those two men staring at you ahead? Could it be that besides Huang Longshi, there are other men trying to steal my man? Be careful—you go find me a brick! Are you going to hit them or not?!”
“Uh, one is the emperor himself, and the other is Yuan Benxi.”
“Then I’m off to buy some rouge…”
“Should I go borrow some money from them?”
“Are you crazy? I can borrow from old abbots without repaying, but if I borrow from them, I’d have to pay it back!”
“That’s true.”
The two men ahead joined their palms in greeting. Though neither believed in Buddhism, they still bowed respectfully to the white-robed monk who had once traveled westward.
But the monk turned and smiled, watching the retreating figure of his wife.
※※※
The situation in Huaizhou, Nanzhao, was not peaceful. All along the way, one could see nothing but fleeing refugees, collapsed wooden beams, and piles of dark, uneven stones like grave mounds. The ancient trade route along the river where the Five Streams converged had lost its former prosperity and bustle. Not a single boat remained at the ferry piers.
A young monk and a girl stood by the riverbank. The girl was lying on the ground, peering into the relatively clear stream as a mirror, carefully combing her disheveled hair at her forehead and temples.
Exhausted, the girl sat up, patted the dust from her front, and sighed helplessly, ” Foolish North and South, those refugees are starving—what good does it do to preach to them? It won’t fill their stomachs.”
“My master says that when the mind arises, conditions arise with it…”
“Stop, stop! Listening to you preach only makes me hungrier. If you keep talking, I really will starve to death.”
“Okay. I’ll go find you something to eat!”
Suddenly, a strange, mocking voice came from behind the young monk and the girl. The girl turned her head and frowned. A group of rowdy ruffians, over thirty in number, stood there, strong and mostly wearing animal pelts over their shoulders. They were clearly more formidable than ordinary hooligans—likely the so-called “Five Streams Savages” of the martial world. The girl stood up, tugged at the monk’s robe, and silently signaled him to avoid a fight. In the past, when traveling the martial world alone, she wouldn’t have been so accommodating. She was decent at brawling and fighting, but since being accompanied by this Foolish North and South, she rarely caused trouble.
These Five Streams Savages spewed vulgarities, but the two outsiders couldn’t understand their thick dialect. Still, the way the ruffians looked at the girl made everything clear—they had their eyes on her.
The girl whispered, “Let’s jump into the stream.”
The young monk shook his head, “You’re hungry, aren’t you? You don’t have the strength to swim.”
The girl was so angry she wanted to hit the fool on the head, but the monk had already stepped forward alone, hands joined in prayer, blocking their path.
One of the Five Streams Savages rushed forward and punched the foolish monk hard on the head. He stepped back, shaking his wrist in pain, then turned and chattered something in their dialect.
The next ruffian grinned maliciously and charged forward, leaping high, aiming a vicious kick at the monk’s chest.
The young monk swayed slightly but remained calm.
The group of Five Streams Savages was clearly shocked. Several of them began to draw their sharp, gleaming curved knives.
The girl was about to pull the monk and jump into the stream when the monk turned his head, smiled, shook his bald head, and looked determined.
The young monk turned back, silently recited a phrase, joined his palms together, stretched them apart a foot, then suddenly clapped them shut.
The Five Streams Savages hesitated, mistakenly thinking they had hit a wall. But after waiting a moment and seeing no reaction, they burst into laughter. One swordsman tapped his shoulder with the flat of his blade, cackling as he approached.
The monk’s robe fluttered.
“I take refuge in the Buddha.”
Suddenly, without warning, the calm stream surged with a violent wave.
A terrifying azure dragon, formed from the stream itself, rose like a wrathful heavenly king, roaring thunderously at the group of Five Streams Savages!
They were so frightened they fled in panic.
The girl, who hadn’t bought a single box of rouge since leaving home, sat by the ferry, showing no joy, only sadness.
The young monk scratched his head, squatted beside the girl, hesitated for a long time, and finally spoke.
“Li-zi, I’m just a monk. I can’t do anything but recite sutras.”
“Does reciting sutras mean you have to become a Buddha?! Who cares about your relics!”
“Li-zi, are you hungry? Should I go begging for alms for you?”
“…”
“Things?”
“…”
“Li Things?”
“…”
The young monk sighed, resting his chin in his hands and gazing into the distance.
The girl, with her back to him, raised her sleeve and wiped her face.
※※※
A convoy guarded by an elite cavalry unit of a hundred riders had already spotted the boundary stone of Youzhou. Just a few more steps ahead, and they would enter the territory of Beiliang Dao.
Inside the carriage with bright yellow curtains sat a senior eunuch from the Office of Seals, holding tightly to a golden lacquer box he dared not release even in sleep. Inside the box were the imperial edicts and decrees granted by the Liyang court to Beiliang.
The old eunuch’s eyelids twitched more violently the closer he got to Beiliang, constantly reassuring himself that once he set foot in Beiliang Dao, he would be satisfied. Even if he died on the way, at least he would have delivered the imperial edict to Beiliang soil.
But then the carriage suddenly stopped. The old eunuch from the Office of Seals sensed something unusual, lifted the curtain, and his heart sank.
Near the Youzhou boundary stone, countless armored riders stretched endlessly along the road to the horizon.
In the spring of Xiangfu Year One, before the Qingming Festival, the convoy carrying the imperial edict had not yet entered Beiliang when it was driven back over three hundred li by two thousand riders from Beiliang.
At the same time, a force of eight thousand riders approached Zhulou Garrison in Hezhou, while another six thousand marched toward Tieshuang City in Hezhou.
The imperial edict was not allowed to enter Beiliang, not even an inch.
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