The old eunuch had never practiced martial arts, but the imperial palace of Tai’an City had never lacked martial experts. The old man was among the most elite of the palace eunuchs, having seen much and known much, so he had a certain discerning eye. Watching the heavens churn with wind, rain, and thunder at the command of those battling like immortals on the mountain, the old man could not help but gasp in awe. The cold winds and rain of late spring in Beiliang were particularly bone-piercing, making the old man, Zhao Sikou, feel even more miserable. Especially when he saw that tall, slender figure walking slowly down the mountain, each step seemed to trample upon his already burdened heart, making his teeth ache unbearably.
When the young man with the sword finally reached the foot of the mountain, Old Zhao, Holding the tragic resolve of one ready to die and be reborn, hurried forward. He was about to open his mouth with flattery, not daring to hope that this Beiliang King would not strike a smiling face, but at least might grant him a swift, less painful death. Yet to his surprise, the young man merely waved a hand and spoke first, saying, “I thank you on behalf of Beiliang, Master Zhao. This place may not rival the splendor of Tai’an City, but I can certainly offer you a quiet place to rest and retire in comfort.”
Zhao Sikou was momentarily stunned, then heard the man, now standing close, continue with a smile, “The Xu family owes Zhao Changling far too much to ever repay. Since you, Master Zhao, are an old friend of Zhao Yangcai of Beiliang, and have risked your life for us, not disappointing my master, you need not worry. All I’ve said is to let you rest assured.”
The old man gave a carefree chuckle, tinged with self-mockery, “An eunuch like me, despised by all, deserves to be called Master? Your Highness’s words must mean you intend to send me to my death again. If so, mere words like ‘Master’ won’t be enough.”
Xu Fengnian laughed aloud, “I knew Master Zhao wouldn’t be truly reassured.”
The old man bowed slightly, puzzled, “So I can truly live and die as I please in Beiliang?”
Xu Fengnian nodded with a smile. Zhao Sikou sighed deeply, gazing up at the now serene peak of Qinglu Mountain, and in his eunuch’s high-pitched voice, murmured, “Since the Prince is so gracious, I’ll dare to speak my treasonous thoughts. Back then, the young master favored Chen Zhibao. Though the White-Clothed War Immortal never ruled Beiliang, we can’t say the young master chose wrongly. But if the young master had lived to this day, he might not have felt so bitter.”
Xu Fengnian shook his head, “If Zhao Changling had lived, Beiliang would likely have no place for me.”
Zhao Sikou studied the young prince for a moment, then sighed, “I can’t yet see into Your Highness’s heart, but your words ring true, and they bring comfort.”
The old eunuch turned his gaze toward Tai’an City, “There, they love to speak in riddles. Even under the clearest skies, it feels cold and sinister.”
Xu Fengnian made no hasty judgment, only speaking softly, “Beiliang has its harsh winds and bitter winters, but the views are wide and open. Stay long enough, and even the heaviest burdens on the heart will be blown away by the wind or buried under the snow.”
The old eunuch smiled genuinely, “With the Prince’s kind words, I had only hoped to fulfill the young master’s last wish and be content. I never expected to wish for more years.”
Xu Fengnian turned to see the girl known as Huhu, who stood with nothing in her hands, idly swinging her wrist. He said to Zhao Sikou, “Master Zhao, why not take a walk up the mountain? You can descend with Hu Kui and Huangfu Ping later.”
The old man laughed, “Yes, I should make the most of my legs while they still carry me.”
As the old eunuch passed the girl, he muttered to himself, “In the days of the Great Qin’s fall, heroes across the land pursued its throne. Eight hundred years of division and union saw only the Great Feng Dynasty four hundred years ago showing promise of unifying north and south. Yet it became the first to suffer northern invasions, and every dynasty since has struggled with the north. This dynasty is no exception. Chancellor Zhang Julu governed for over twenty years, spending half his time watching the northern borders, working with General Gu Jiantang to merely balance the odds. Now Liyang is killing its own deer—how will the world respond? Alas, I’ve never understood this world. Scholars cannot tolerate eunuchs, nor commoners, and finally even scholars cannot tolerate each other. I’ve read every classic from the Zhang family’s sages, but found no such logic. Perhaps it’s as they say—when those above favor something, those below indulge even more. I truly must open my eyes wide and see if this academy and its scholars are any different.”
Xu Fengnian chuckled softly, “Truly a man from Zhao Changling’s lineage.”
The girl tilted her head. Xu Fengnian took her hand gently, saying, “Let’s not think so much.”
She whispered, “Old Huang thought even more.”
Xu Fengnian led her into the carriage waiting at the foot of the mountain. Xu Yanbing, who had not drawn his blade the entire time, glanced at Xu Fengnian, and the two exchanged nods—no words needed. Xu Fengnian, finally able to catch his breath, spoke casually to the girl, “As for strategists, their talent and their position both matter. A man’s role shapes his concerns. Yuan Benxi has always ranked higher among the strategists of the Spring and Autumn era than my master Li Yishan, the Yang Talent Zhao Changling, or the secret advisor to the Yan Chi King, Nalan Youci. It’s not necessarily that Yuan Benxi’s wisdom surpasses theirs, but his position allowed him greater scope and more resources—like a clever housewife with ample firewood and spices, making a richer feast. In Beiliang, we now have Xu Beizhi and Chen Xiliang. If Beiliang survives the Northern Liang invasion, their future achievements will be great, but how high they can rise is uncertain. The same goes for Lu Xu of Xiangfan City. That’s why Sun Yin, who studies the art of slaying dragons, refuses to stay in Beiliang. Beiliang’s pond holds snakes, not dragons—he looks down on it. But being in the Liyang court has its pros and cons. The downside is that there are too many talents under the emperor’s watchful eye, dazzling and confusing. Even geniuses like Xu Beizhi and Chen Xiliang would struggle to rise as quickly as in Beiliang. And as Master Zhao said, scholars cannot tolerate other scholars. The Liyang court is bound by too many rules, and many scholars’ ambitions go unfulfilled. Most of their complaints are mere whining, but some are truly born in the wrong time, their talents unrecognized. If Huang Longshi were born today, he’d find it hard enough to become even a headmaster of the Shangyin Academy, let alone the great villain Huang Sanjia of the Spring and Autumn era.”
Xu Fengnian glanced at Huhu, a touch of helplessness in his voice, “Why are you glaring at me? I’m not speaking ill of Old Huang—I’m praising him. My master himself called him an extraordinary man, a transcendent genius. How dare I underestimate Huang Longshi?”
Xu Fengnian’s thoughts drifted, “That fellow Zhao Zhu has such good fortune he could be called blessed. He’s been chosen by three great figures—Huang Longshi, the Northern Liang State Master, the immortal Yuan Qingshan, and Nalan Youci. The Zhao Kai who died outside Tiemen Pass had only two masters, Yang Taishui and Han Shengxuan. Compared to Zhao Zhu, his fate was far less auspicious. As for the Fourth Prince Zhao Zhuan, already the crown prince, there’s no need to say more. The future of Liyang’s Rivers and mountains will depend on these two.”
On the way back to the general’s mansion in Yihé City, they encountered two assassination attempts—doomed from the start. Not even the three in the carriage needed to lift a finger; the falcon spies intercepted and slaughtered the attackers. The people of Beiliang were naturally fierce, and even more so the loyal retainers raised by military families. These martial artists were often hot-tempered, not valuing others’ lives, nor even their own. They believed in the principle: you feed me for ten or twenty years, and I repay you with my life. They called it righteousness, called it chivalry, called it the spirit of a great hero. To outsiders, it was hard to say if this was right or wrong. Xu Fengnian lifted the curtain once, looking at the dead eyes of an assassin, still open in disbelief. He felt no pity, only thinking of matters beyond Beiliang. Take the Zhao family emperor, for example. As a single family ruling the land, he could be called a wise ruler once in a century. Yet after ascending the throne, he killed Xu Xiao, and now seeks to kill Zhang Julu, a great minister of Liyang. This was not because the emperor ruled poorly. He could tolerate the free spirits of the Hanlin Academy, tolerate the Zhang and Gu families, tolerate the eight fallen kingdoms’ scholars stirring the world with their words. But as the head of a household, a ruler of a dynasty inevitably had his own hidden burdens. No matter how diligently he worked for the people, his first priority was always the Zhao family. Zhang Julu could sacrifice his own interests to open a path for the poor scholars to rise, to build a foundation for future generations. But would that path still serve the Zhao family two hundred years later? If the court were filled with men like Zhang Julu, who cared more for the people than the throne, who would close that door once opened? This was no exaggeration. The poor scholars had no family rules to bind them. The noble families, used to fine shoes, would not easily take them off. But the poor were barefoot, and if they cast off all restraint, with talent in hand, why not serve another—or even sit on the dragon throne themselves? Thus, the emperor’s killing of Zhang Julu was not merely the execution of Liyang’s greatest minister, but a reluctant attempt to close that open door.
These matters, his master Li Yishan saw clearly. Huang Longshi and Yuan Benxi saw them too. Zhang Julu himself knew best of all. As for whether it was good or bad, Xu Fengnian, not being emperor, had no need to bear that burden.
Xu Fengnian muttered to himself, “With Youzhou in chaos, Liyang must think it’s just rats fighting in a corner. I, too, need to slow down. Yes, Beiliang must rest and recover.”
The little girl stretched out her hand, staring at Xu Fengnian’s hair, which was gradually darkening from gray.
Xu Fengnian smiled and shook his head.
She bent one finger, her eyes asking silently.
Four?
Xu Fengnian still shook his head.
She slowly bent another finger.
He continued to shake his head.
When only two fingers remained, she grinned eagerly.
Xu Fengnian laughed, “I haven’t fought Tuoba Pusa yet. Second or third place is hard to say.”
The girl’s eyes sparkled.
Xu Fengnian spoke softly, “But as long as Wang Xianzhi lives, whether second, third, or tenth at the bottom of the Martial Rankings, it doesn’t matter much.”
The girl extended her finger and gently rubbed the faintly glowing purple-gold ‘eye’ on Xu Fengnian’s forehead. It wasn’t the golden hue of a sunflower in summer or autumn, but she still liked it.
When she was little, her family had only that man who gambled and never acted like a father, her mother, and the golden sunflowers in the fields. The strange men that man brought home had once violated her mother in those fields, and she could only hide in fear. Every time her mother dressed and combed her hair, stepping out of the field, she would find her daughter, who dared not even cry, and smile gently, handing her a sunflower before walking home together. After her mother died, she could only look at those sunflowers alone.
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