The grand hall of the Liyang court, brimming with virtuous ministers, was thrown into an uproar. It came so swiftly that all the Grand Secretaries and ministers of the Six Ministries were left speechless. Zhang Julu, the Chief Minister of the realm, had insisted on reassigning Gu Jiantang, the supreme military and political commander of the northern frontier, even after the Emperor’s decree had already been decided. He intended to deploy this sharpest blade of the empire onto the neck of the western Chu kingdom, to cut through chaos swiftly, rather than stationing him at the northern border as originally planned. If this were all, no one in the court would dare to raise a voice in protest. Biyan’er, in recent years, had loosened his grip on the other five ministries outside the Ministry of War, but had always tightly controlled the channels of remonstrance. Thus, even without the Chief Minister personally intervening, these officials who followed the Zhang Lu faction could almost bring anyone to their knees. Fortunately, Zhang Julu rarely targeted anyone deliberately, but as long as he held this trump card, even without playing it, no one in the court dared to act recklessly.
Unfortunately, in the late spring of Xiangfu Year One, even with the channels of remonstrance firmly in Zhang Julu’s grasp, even with the court having remained unchallenged for over a decade, the Chief Minister finally faced his first defeat. It was not for lack of skill, but because this time his opponent was Tan Tan Weng, and a group of influential ministers behind the venerable Huan, including Zhao Youling, the head of the Ministry of Personnel and the acknowledged successor to the Chancellor, Yin Maochun, and even Yuan Guo, the newly appointed Minister of Rites, along with General Zhao Wei, who had yet to take command of the southern campaign against the western Chu, and a host of veteran generals, not to mention the collateral branches of the imperial family who had been suppressed by Biyan’er for over a decade. Curiously, none of these individuals had made any prior arrangements. After Huan Wen clearly directed his spearhead at the Chief Minister, they gradually stepped forward to voice their opinions, all deeming the strategy of “using the northern guardian in the south” too rash. They argued that the western Chu, though experiencing a brief resurgence, was nowhere near matching the might of the northern barbarian forces numbering in the hundreds of thousands.
That day’s court session was a tempestuous affair. Except for Wang Xionggui, the Minister of Revenue, who stood unwaveringly by his mentor, almost everyone else chose the cowardice of silence, unwilling to be drawn into this most convoluted and perilous power struggle since the Yonghui Era. The reason for saying “almost” was because, besides Wang Xionggui, there was another figure, Jin Lanting, who had recently risen to prominence, surprisingly following closely behind Wang to voice support for the Chief Minister.
Those with discerning eyes noticed that after the court session, Tan Tan Weng walked past the Chief Minister without so much as a glance, while the disoriented Wang Xionggui trailed behind the composed Yonghui mentor. Unexpectedly, it was Jin Youjiu, who had never sought to ingratiate himself with the Chief Minister, who walked resolutely by Zhang Julu’s side. The day’s tumultuous political drama left onlookers both overwhelmed and bewildered. As the court dispersed, the only sound to be heard was the clinking of jade ornaments; not a single voice of debate or whisper could be heard—an unusual sight in the history of Liyang court sessions spanning two decades.
Zhang Julu slowly descended the white jade steps, not glancing at the young Youjiu walking beside him with a furrowed brow, and softly chuckled, “Jin Sanlang, this time you may have bet on the wrong horse.”
Jin Lanting, who had grown a beard to symbolize his resolve, shook his head. “This junior is not taking a risk to bet against the entire court and deliberately antagonize them to curry favor with the Chief Minister. It is simply that a man must act when the time calls for it.”
Zhang Julu smiled slightly, slowed his pace, and spoke plainly, “Looking back at the struggles between virtuous and unscrupulous officials throughout history, those with the reputation of being virtuous often suffered greatly during their lifetimes. At best, they might be posthumously honored with a laudatory title by the succeeding emperor, but such posthumous honors bring no benefit to the nation or its people. This empty fame left behind in the annals of history is better off discarded. There is no great mystery in factional strife; the more one cares for the people, the more necessary it is to have a faction of virtuous men, and even more necessary to have a shrewd and vicious watchdog among one’s colleagues—one who can bark and bite, rather than a group of men who merely keep their sleeves clean and act on scholarly idealism, ending up with nothing more than a few elegiac poems written during their exile, which move future scholars to tears. That is quite dull.”
Jin Lanting pondered for a moment and self-deprecatingly remarked, “This junior is also hard-pressed to escape such a mold.”
Zhang Julu turned and patted Wang Xionggui’s shoulder. “I am not on duty today. Go to the Zhang Lu residence and wait there. If any colleagues ask, simply respond with ‘I do not know.'”
Wang Xionggui nodded and quickly departed.
The purple-bearded, green-eyed man who wielded the power of the realm walked slowly alongside Jin Lanting, crossing the threshold of the palace together. Suddenly, Zhang Julu chuckled, “The first time I saw you, I was reminded of my younger self—flustered and full of Grievance. To be honest, you still fall short of me back then, though you do surpass me in one thing: your calligraphy on Xuan paper.”
Jin Lanting smiled knowingly, “To have the Chief Minister admit defeat in one matter and even voice it aloud is more than enough.”
Jin Lanting hesitated, as if wanting to say more, but Zhang Julu calmly asked, “You are wondering why that old man turned against his own?”
Despite Jin Lanting’s status as the Emperor’s favored minister and a trusted aide to the Crown Prince, destined for a brilliant future, the Right Sacrificial Winebearer dared not utter a word at this moment, nor even dare to speculate recklessly.
Zhang Julu said, “Both I and Huan Wen have our own scales of judgment, and neither of us underestimates the threat of the western Chu’s resurgence. However, the balance on these scales has differed over the years. I have placed more weight on the western Chu than on the northern barbarians, while he does the opposite. He has his own plans and vision. He insists on using Beiliang to drain the northern barbarians’ strength, fearing that if Gu Jiantang moves south, the northern barbarians, who have already decided to first conquer Beiliang and then attack Liyang, might change their strategy, believing they have found an opportunity. In that case, from the northern border all the way to this Taian City beneath our feet, there would be nothing but raging fires.”
Zhang Julu pointed southward, “That old man sees not only the north but also the chronic problem of Beiliang. Tan Tan Weng also sees the seemingly ‘hesitant’ Yan Chi Dao and those fallen states of the Spring and Autumn Period that cannot withstand the spring breeze. His concerns are understandable. I fear that the western Chu will become a quagmire, reigniting the ashes of the fallen Spring and Autumn states. He fears that the northern barbarians will advance from the eastern front, turning the entire world into a quagmire. He and I are engaged in a true high-stakes gamble. These things, even if you stand at the heart of the dynasty, you still cannot see. Because in the court, everyone has their own agenda. The military men think of achieving titles and honors in their lifetimes, while the literati think of being honored alongside the sage temples after death. The reason I share these complaints with you is that you, Jin Lanting, are rarely foolish and rarely interesting. After all, being scolded by the old Huan is not unusual, but being struck is quite rare.”
Jin Lanting instinctively touched the cheek that had been slapped by Tan Tan Weng, as if it were still burning, and quickly withdrew his hand.
Zhang Julu spoke softly, “You and I have come this far.”
Jin Lanting wisely stopped in his tracks, hearing only the Chief Minister’s parting words, “In the future, interact more with the new ministers.”
Jin Lanting was momentarily puzzled. New ministers? Was it Yuan Guo of the Ministry of Rites or Lu Baijie of the Ministry of War?
Or perhaps both?
Coincidentally, on this day of the court’s adjournment, the two walked together. Both were considered young and capable among the frost-white senior officials of the court, sharing many similarities and common ground. Though their backgrounds differed, both were among the most celebrated figures of Liyang. Lu Baijie was the Sword Immortal of Tangxi in the Jiangnan Circuit, while Yuan Guo was a renowned figure who could get along with anyone and call everyone “brother.” Both were not overly ambitious, viewing many things that others held dear with a light heart. They enjoyed excellent reputations both in court and in the wider realm, had no enemies, and belonged to no obvious factions or cliques. Both had been guests at Tan Tan Weng’s home and had also been scolded by him. They had met the Emperor, entered the “Shuang Lu” (the two powerful factions), and been reprimanded by Huan Wen. These were the three essential steps to becoming a powerful minister in the Liyang court, and both had clearly experienced them all.
As the two ministers left the court for the “Zhao Family Hero Jar,” Lu Baijie did not immediately return to the busy Ministry of War but followed Yuan Guo to the Ministry of Rites, which had a very different atmosphere. In the Ministry of Rites, where scholars and literati gathered, even subordinates dared to tease their superiors. This was because Yuan Guo, that old wine lover, had brazenly brought a large trunk on his first day as the new minister—not filled with books, but with over twenty bottles of the Emperor’s previously bestowed Jian Nan Chun wine. Unfortunately, the Emperor happened to catch him red-handed when he visited the Ministry of Rites. The Emperor then took the initiative to share the wine with his ministers, sitting casually with his subjects, enjoying the wine until they were slightly tipsy. To add insult to injury, the Emperor even joked, “I’m helping you build camaraderie among your colleagues, so no need to thank me. Just remember to use your salary to buy some good wine and send it to the palace later.”
Now, the Ministry of Rites was counting down the days until their salaries were paid, jokingly asking the Minister if they needed to chip in some money. Today, seeing the Minister of War, if it had been General Gu Jiantang, everyone would have been on edge; if it had been Chen Zhibao, they would have kept their distance. But since it was the refined and charismatic Sword Immortal of Tangxi, they all greeted Yuan Guo with smiles, inviting him to sit for a while. After all, the Ministry of Rites, aside from important festivals and grand ceremonies, was the most leisurely and relaxed of the Six Ministries. With Yuan Guo, who was lenient with himself and others, presiding over the ministry, everyone felt it was a blessing. Because of Yuan Guo’s leadership, even officials from the other five ministries who had previously looked down on the Ministry of Rites now showed more courtesy when visiting or being visited. For the literati of the Ministry of Rites, a little face-saving was more than enough.
The Ministry of Rites, already spacious, naturally had a private room for Yuan Guo. As they approached the door, Yuan chuckled and hurried inside, bending down to pick up books one by one, clearing a path. He placed them on a chair already teetering under a precarious pile of books, which swayed but did not fall, showing his practiced hand. Yuan finally cleared the chair in front of the desk, and Lu Baijie waved his hand with a smile, “No need to sit. If I take that seat, it would be like a dove taking over a sparrow’s nest. I wouldn’t want people to think the Ministry of War is bullying the Ministry of Rites.”
Yuan Guo laughed heartily, “The Ministry of War bullying the Ministry of Rites is nothing new. Don’t pretend to be innocent, Minister Lu.”
Lu Baijie replied bluntly, “Don’t play that game. The Ministry of War used to bully all five other ministries equally, so no one could complain about favoritism. Who’s pretending now is anyone’s guess.”
Yuan Guo rubbed his slightly red, wine-flushed nose, “Forget the past. If the Ministry of War dares to intimidate the Ministry of Rites in the future, I’ll go there and cause a scene like a shrew.”
Lu Baijie remained noncommittal, looking around with a sense of nostalgia. Lu Baijie hailed from the Lu family of Yangzhou, known for its “abundance of treasures.” His elder brother, Lu Daolin, had resigned from the National Academy and, by fortunate misfortune, became the Minister of Rites—the previous occupant of this very room. Lu Baijie had visited the capital once before, and this was only his second time. He had a close relationship with his elder brother, and it was largely due to giving way to his younger brother that Lu Daolin, who was like a father to him, had retired from court life. Otherwise, having two brothers serving as ministers in the same dynasty would have caused the aristocratic families of Yangzhou to become furious, and there would have been criticism in the capital as well. Before entering government service, Lu Baijie had lived in Retreat Garden for a long time. Lu Daolin had “retreated” twice, building many silent bonds of gratitude for his younger brother—an art rarely taught in the classics of sages.
Yuan Guo slapped his head, feigning anger, “You, the Sword Immortal of Tangxi! So that earlier jab about a dove taking over a sparrow’s nest was really about me taking over your brother’s room?”
Lu Baijie did not deny it, smiling as he asked, “Where’s the wine hidden?”
Yuan Guo widened his eyes, “Long gone!”
Lu Baijie smirked, “Do you think the reputation of the Sword Immortal of Tangxi is just hot air? Even if I no longer practice swordsmanship, I can still smell wine.”
Yuan Guo spread his hands helplessly, “Really gone.”
Lu Baijie walked to a corner, dug through a pile of books, and pulled out a jar of wine, shaking it. Yuan Guo hurriedly fetched two cups hidden beneath the desk, wiped them with his sleeve, and handed one to Lu, fearing the Sword Immortal might just walk off with the wine. He muttered, “I was just afraid drinking would lead to mistakes. If I delayed Minister Lu’s military affairs, I’d be in serious trouble. But just now, a sudden inspiration struck—since you, Minister Lu, are such a master swordsman, your drinking capacity must be formidable. A glass or two should be fine. Come, let’s have a small drink, just a small one.”
Lu Baijie sat down on the floor without hesitation, while Yuan Guo placed a stack of books under his bottom. Lu drank his cup in one go, while Yuan sipped slowly, savoring the moment.
Lu Baijie smiled, “Let’s speak a little drunkenly?”
Yuan Guo glanced at the door, perhaps recalling that the former Minister Lu was an exceptional martial artist, then nodded.
“Tell me, what’s really going on? On my way here, I understood some things, but others still puzzle me.”
“You want to speak of the secrets that must be forgotten as soon as we rise, words that must not reach six ears?”
“Drunken words.”
“The Ministry of War holds many secrets unknown to the other five ministries. It’s not hard to understand the Chief Minister’s and Elder Huan’s disagreement. What puzzles you is why Elder Huan didn’t discuss things privately in either of their homes, but instead confronted him openly in court, right?”
“Hmm.”
“The reason you can’t figure it out is because you still know many people mistakenly believe that today’s court assembly seemed to reveal a sign: after over twenty years of Emperor Yonghui’s reign, aside from the Emperor himself, the Chief Minister’s arrogance finally began to decline rapidly in the Xiangfu era, and his former glory is now inevitably waning. But this is an utterly absurd illusion, as you and I both know. Over the years, Zhang Lu has torn down its own walls, abandoning Zhao Youling, whose scholarship was unrivaled during the Yonghui era, and discarding Han Lin, a man of mature judgment. Of course, I, Yuan Guo, who lacks ambition and has achieved nothing, was also cast aside early on. Eventually, they only supported Wang Xionggui, who seemingly lacked the qualities of a chancellor, even expelling the entire Hanlin Academy and handing it over to Yin Maochun. Why? What was the Chief Minister thinking? It’s simple. In the Yongyang court, Chancellor Zhang never considered anyone his political rival. As long as he stood in the court, there’s a famous poem that says it well: ‘When spring comes, if I do not speak first, which insect dares to make a sound?’ In twenty years, only one person has dared to speak. If this person dies first and Chancellor Zhang dies afterward, then there will be no one left at all.”
“I understand.”
The room fell into a silent, wordless state.
Yuan Guo’s eyes were vaguely tearful. He simply grabbed the wine pot and took a swig before asking, “Do you really understand?”
Yuan Guo answered his own question, “You don’t understand!”
Lu Baijie sighed, said nothing, stood up, and left, carefully closing the door behind him.
Left alone in the room, Yuan Guo alternated between crying and laughing. The usually sober Minister of Rites, who cherished wine dearly, was now drunk and acting out of character. “You don’t understand, Yuan Guo. My mentor, our Chief Minister, once the Western Chu campaign fails, the Chief Minister, whose vision is as sharp as a hawk’s, will win the face but completely lose the court. When the Emperor, known for his magnanimity, can no longer tolerate him, that will be when the Chief Minister truly begins his decline. Therefore, today’s court assembly was him seeking an escape route for Elder Huan while forcing himself onto a dead end.”
Yuan Guo leaned back, throwing away the wine pot, weeping bitterly, “We scholars fear death not, but why must my mentor die such a tragic death?”
※※※
Zhang Julu deliberately gave himself nothing to do today, nor did he think about anything, thus finally having the opportunity to visit an old, famous tavern and drink a little aged wine. However, it didn’t seem quite as delicious as Huan Wen and others had described. Since he hadn’t removed his official robes, the Chief Minister’s presence brought both honor and anxiety to the tavern. Everyone watched him from afar, and whenever the old man’s chopsticks slowed slightly while picking up food, they felt as if they might be dragged out and executed at any moment. Indeed, the Chief Minister had never appeared in public in the capital, unlike other high-ranking officials and department heads, each with their own temperaments and hobbies, who frequented their own quiet places. But Chancellor Zhang was different; he was always seen only at the Chancellor’s residence and the palace. Therefore, the news spread at an astonishing speed, but not even the most curious gossipmongers dared to come and see for themselves, which probably is where Zhang Julu’s true terror lies. Wang Xionggui’s youngest son, Wang Yuanran, the capital’s top young noble who claimed to openly challenge the Prince of Beiliang, had once, as a boy, accompanied his father to visit Zhang’s residence. Just being glanced at by the Chief Minister once made him refuse to go there again. Even the descendants of the great generals Zhao Wei and Yang Shenxing, who had achieved great feats during the Spring and Autumn period, and were considered the most elite of Yongyang’s military aristocracy, hadn’t seen the Chief Minister face-to-face in twenty or thirty years. It wasn’t like mice seeing a cat; it was more like mice seeing a tiger, giving the impression that meeting him would mean losing a piece of flesh. Even the once most promising eldest prince, Zhao Wu, who had incurred the wrath of the Chief Minister’s beloved daughter, ended up suffering the consequences without Zhang Julu even uttering a single word. If even a prince of such pure lineage was treated this way, then those distant imperial relatives who had been ruthlessly suppressed by Zhang Julu when he first seized power were left with nothing but silent resentment.
This man, who easily shows signs of aging but always makes people forget his age, is not greedy for wealth, fond of beauty, indulgent in delicacies, given to idle talk, devoted to Buddhism or Taoism, nor does he publish poetry. All those with ulterior motives have been waiting for him to make a mistake, but he hasn’t.
He just goes back and forth between his residence and the palace day after day, year after year, in a dull and unassailable manner. For twenty whole years, no one else could be considered second only to the emperor.
Zhang Julu raised his head, put down his chopsticks, and saw a familiar, delicate face. She sat across the table, resting her chin on her hands, her charming smile just like her mother’s in her youth.
The Chancellor smiled softly, “So, my drinking has even disturbed Lady Zhang?”
Zhang Gaoxia still rested her chin on her hands, blinking her eyes.
Zhang Julu smiled, “Speak up. Besides coming to see your father, what else do you want from him? This time, I’ll agree in advance.”
Zhang Gaoxia giggled, “My older sister-in-law just complained to me. She said that in the spring of this year, my stubborn third brother has been running out every few days to borrow money to drink and visit courtesans, and even has the idea of taking a concubine. Taking a concubine would be bad enough, but the woman is from a brothel. My older sister-in-law couldn’t persuade my stubborn third brother, so she had to drag me into her camp. I secretly saw the woman. Whether she’s from a brothel or not doesn’t matter, but she really is fickle. Dad, aren’t you afraid she’ll bring shame to our family?”
Zhang Julu frowned slightly.
Zhang Gaoxia raised her voice, “Dad, you promised me!”
Zhang Julu’s frown eased, and he nodded.
Zhang Gaoxia, who had not the slightest hope, widened her eyes in disbelief. But even more incredible was yet to come. The father who was a Chancellor in public and even more so at home actually said, “Go see your third brother at his mansion.”
Zhang Gaoxia was overjoyed. After all, their father, who was the real father of the four siblings, hardly seemed like a father at all. Except for her, his daughter, the three sons had already started their own families and careers. When each of them married and had children, Zhang Julu never showed up. Whether his three sons were successful or causing trouble, he never paid any attention. Everyone in the capital mocked the three, who were born into such a prestigious family but were left without support, as if they were children picked up by chance on the street. Zhang Gaoxia’s third brother was the youngest son of Chancellor Zhang, the least talented, idling around, and no one wanted to play with this timid fellow, so he often carried a pigeon whistle and wandered aimlessly around Tai’an City. The eldest brother at least entered the bureaucracy, though his rise was slow, Barely considered an inheritance. his father’s footsteps. The second brother was a genuine bookworm, but at least he was passable. The third brother, Zhang Bianguan, was a nobody, the worst off of all. He was certainly not favored by his father, the Chief Minister, at home, and even the bigger rascals in the capital looked down on him and refused to be drinking buddies with him. Zhang Gaoxia knew better than anyone that in the hearts of her three brothers, they desperately hoped that this silent father would give them a single glance, not daring to hope for any praise, but even a scolding would be better.
Zhang Julu walked out of the tavern, suddenly “breaking his promise,” saying, “I’m not going anymore.”
Zhang Gaoxia frowned, looking pitiful.
Zhang Julu smiled, “Although I’m not going, take a message to Bianguan. Relying on his older brothers’ meager salaries to indulge in wine and women isn’t right. If he really wants to join the army, I’ll tell Gu Jiantang to send him to Liaodong. Also, I won’t have idle people at home. You, my wild daughter, can leave the capital and go wherever you like. Wherever you go is fine, as long as you don’t write home asking me for money.”
Zhang Gaoxia’s eyes lit up, and she exclaimed joyfully, “Really?”
Zhang Julu gently nodded.
Zhang Gaoxia suddenly blurted out, ruining the mood, “Dad, are you sick? Did Elder Huan upset you today? I’ll get revenge for you, just watch me eat and drink the Huan household into poverty!”
The Chancellor smiled gently, “How impressive!”
Then he added, “I should mention in advance: you can go anywhere in Yongyang except the Beiliang Circuit first, the Yanche Circuit second, and the Guangling Circuit third.”
Zhang Gaoxia said “Okay,” and began counting on her fingers, “The Jiangnan Circuit is fourth, the Liangliao Circuit fifth…”
She counted all the Yongyang circuits in one breath and laughed, “Then I’ll just stay at home, loafing around forever without getting married. Anyway, I can’t go anywhere.”
Zhang Julu took the reins from the tavern owner, who was as nervous as if walking on thin ice, and handed them to his daughter with a smile, “Stop being cheeky with your old man and go tell your sister-in-law the good news.”
Zhang Gaoxia made a face, mounted her horse, and rode off in a cloud of dust.
Zhang Julu stood still. The tavern owner didn’t dare to complain about the Chancellor forgetting to pay for his meal. In fact, no one dared approach while the Chancellor was there. But the owner was certain that the next day, not only would there be no seats left in the tavern, but not even standing room.
The owner had already quietly turned to leave when the Chancellor softly called him back. The owner’s face stiffened as he turned around, feeling awkward and unsure what to do.
Zhang Julu smiled and said, “Innkeeper, I’ve had a free meal here. Don’t mind it, will you?”
The owner shook his head vigorously, not daring to utter a word.
Zhang Julu walked toward the heavily guarded carriage, muttering to himself in a voice only he could hear, “I have eaten the Emperor’s food and been loyal to his affairs; we are even now. In the end, all I ask of the people is a pot of wine. Is that too much?”
※※※
Throughout the court and the country, everyone was closely watching the feudal lords’ response to the rebellion. Which one would move first, which would send the most troops, whose army was the strongest, and whose was the weakest were all hot topics in the streets and alleys. Among the major feudal lords, Jiaodong King Zhao Sui was officially ordered to remain still, dutifully watching the border, which didn’t give the common people much to gossip about. Guangling King Zhao Yi was already involved, as the restoration of the Western Chu occurred within his territory, leaving little room for speculation. Huainan King Zhao Ying, long considered the weakest and rumored to be mad, sent six thousand troops, surprising everyone with his all-out effort. The Yanche Circuit was the first to send troops, but this feudal lord, Zhao Bing, who was second only to the old King of Beiliang, merely sent his heir, Zhao Zhu, with a mere thousand riders to Guangling Circuit. Moreover, as they marched north, passing through cities and provinces, chaos ensued, providing ample fodder for gossip in Yongyang’s streets. The young Jing’an King Zhao Xun was the last to send troops, and the number of his forces remained unknown. As for Chen Zhibao, the former Minister of War, now enfeoffed as a king in Xishu, there was no movement at all. Was it because the court feared that if he went to Western Chu, there would be no one else to handle the matter, or was it that the “White-robed Immortal General” simply disdained to lead troops there? Except for the high-ranking officials in the Ministry of War in Taian City, probably no one else knew. As for Beiliang? On the Yongyang side, no one believed that the new King of Beiliang, who was even younger than Zhao Xun, would be so kind-hearted. They all guessed that Beiliang was secretly delighted, and it would be considered a great fortune for Yongyang if Beiliang merely refrained from taking advantage of the situation.
When the hooves move and the bowstrings sound, gold and silver pour in.
On the border of Qingzhou, a large force slowly advanced northeast. A young cavalry general in a striking bright yellow dragon robe, whose dragon pattern was even a half-rank higher than that of Guangling King Zhao Yi, stopped his horse by the river, holding the reins and standing there. He smiled at a young, refined scholar by his side, saying, “Master Lu, the little fortune you’ve helped me accumulate has been quickly spent. It’s heartbreaking.”
The scholar with closed eyes smiled and said, “As a weaker guest visiting the host, the etiquette must be sufficient, and the manner of eating must be good. Only with good manners can one eat more. Otherwise, the stronger host will not even let you sit at the table next time.”
Zhao Xun, the current Jing’an King, nodded and said, “It’s a simple principle, but even if I understand it, I still feel a bit depressed.”
Lu Xu, the blind scholar, smiled without speaking.
Zhao Xun acted playfully, saying, “The situation in the capital is so big. Little Liu, you said you’d have to think carefully before understanding. If it’s good news, tell me quickly. If it’s bad news, pretend I didn’t ask. How about that?”
Lu Xu, who always remained in the background in plain scholar’s robes, hesitated for a moment, bit his lip, and said gravely, “For Qingzhou and Jing’an Mansion, it might be a mix of good and bad news.”
Zhao Xun asked curiously, “What do you mean?”
Lu Xu spoke softly, “The Chief Minister deliberately exposed his weakness, sitting in the hall to fish. As expected, in the near future, the secret weapons he has accumulated over the years will be gradually used through the brush and knife of the censors to eliminate people. With the upcoming major evaluation led by Yin Maochun, many people will surely die. The Qing Party’s Lu Feichi has died, and the Qing Party has collapsed. By keeping a low profile, they might by luck escape this storm. After the storm, things still need to be done, and the Qing Party has the hope of making a comeback. This time, Lu Xu earnestly requests the Prince’s Mansion to send out all its elite forces, to let the Emperor and the court officials know our manner of eating, in order to seize the initiative in the following maneuvering. The world is the Zhao family’s world, and as the head of the family, with many descendants, he will naturally choose those descendants who are reliable and do not Strife. When the head of the family is pleased, he will be willing to give them more money, hoping they will be more capable. If he thinks they are not promising, the head of the family will hold tightly to his money and treasures. However, Lu Xu cannot imagine what the court would be like without Chancellor Zhang. With him and Elder Tantai, the situation in Qingzhou is clear, and the Jing’an Prince’s Mansion will not be overly troubled. If the Butler in charge of money and affairs changes, or even the House Master changes, and the Qing Party has no one to stand up and speak for us in the new Master’s ear at critical moments, it will always be a hidden danger. Therefore, the benefit is immediate, while the harm is in the future. Overall, it is still bad news. Of course, everything in the world changes in an instant. Looking too far ahead may not be accurate, and besides, it’s unavoidable to take one step at a time. As long as we don’t make any mistakes, if things still don’t go our way in the end, we can just curse the heavens for not opening their eyes.”
Zhao Xun exclaimed in astonishment, “The Chief Minister Zhang is merely in his fifties, and his health has always been robust. Why would he step down, and who could possibly force him to resign?”
Lu Xu pointed silently toward the sky above, saying nothing.
Zhao Xun’s expression darkened, his voice low and gritted, “So that’s why you urged me early on to secretly befriend Jin Sanlang and the Qingcheng King?”
Lu Xu nodded, showing no pride in his quiet, early preparations.
Zhao Xun suddenly sneered, “Lu Liu’er, you and I are merely guests here, carefully maneuvering to maintain a decent appearance, while the master of the house eats like a pig. Heh, indeed, sitting in such a position, family law becomes national law, and family reason becomes heavenly reason.”
Lu Xu replied calmly, “Your Highness mustn’t forget—you also bear the Zhao name. We are all one family.”
Zhao Xun laughed and threw his arm over Lu Xu’s shoulder. “You and I have no secrets from each other.”
Lu Xu wore a look of helplessness.
Zhao Xun sighed anxiously, “Lu Liu’er, you really won’t come with me? Without your counsel, I fear I won’t have the confidence to act.”
Lu Xu replied serenely, “I can only offer strategies, but I know little of military tactics. Besides, Your Highness’s mission is not to seek battlefield glory—indeed, even if you wanted to, you couldn’t obtain it. You’re meant to throw away all six thousand lives in one breath, then appear in tattered clothes for a secret meeting with the Crown Prince. That alone will be considered a great success.”
Zhao Xun hesitated, his heart pained, “Can’t we leave behind two or three thousand soldiers? Even secretly keeping a thousand would be better, wouldn’t it?”
Lu Xu remained expressionless, turning his sightless gaze toward Zhao Xun, the Jing’an King who had always been “His Highness” in his mouth.
Zhao Xun quickly raised both hands, “Fine, fine! I’ll listen to you!”
Seeing that the esteemed Lu Xu remained motionless, Zhao Xun reluctantly murmured, “Then I really must depart now?”
Lu Xu raised one hand, signaling it was time to mount.
Zhao Xun leapt onto his horse. Lu Xu hesitated briefly, then looked up and reminded him solemnly, “Remember well—this journey concerns only two things: strive to earn even greater trust from Zhao Zuan, and use these six thousand lives to win the hearts of the people across the realm.”
Zhao Xun looked down at this blind strategist who had devoted himself entirely to the Jing’an Prince’s Mansion, solemnly grunted in agreement, and rode off into the distance.
The young feudal lord, riding away, felt a surge of pride in his heart—thinking of the great strategist by his side, Yuan Benxi.
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