A common duckweed was unceremoniously uprooted and replanted in the courtyard as a banana plant. How could it not be joyous to finally experience the scenery outside the courtyard walls? Yu Youwei rode her horse gleefully, reveling in the sensation. No matter how Xu Fengnian threatened or enticed her with words, she refused to dismount and climb into the carriage. Watching her mediocre horsemanship, Xu Fengnian noticed that her delicate hands, gripping the reins tightly, had already turned red and chafed. He couldn’t help but feel annoyed. Only someone like himself, who had traveled the jianghu, could truly understand that those female martial heroes, despite their attractive appearances, were not worth a closer look. After prolonged riding, their bottoms would certainly lose their smoothness and fullness, and hands that held swords and blades too long would develop calluses that became unsightly. Did Yu Youwei intend to follow in their footsteps?
Xu Fengnian snorted coldly and placed two fingers to his mouth, letting out a sharp whistle. From overhead, a Qingbai Luanyu, nurtured and trained painstakingly by Lu Qiu’er, broke through the clouds and dove toward the white cat, Wu Meiniang, in Yu Youwei’s arms. The well-fed, timid cat, with a heart no braver than a mouse, its fur standing on end, shrieked pitifully. Startled, Yu Youwei paled. Since she had found and named this cat “Wu Meiniang,” it had been her only companion and family.
The magnificent Liaodong falcon, known as Liu Feng, swooped repeatedly but did not actually harm the white cat. However, Wu Meiniang was frightened beyond measure, causing Yu Youwei to cast Xu Fengnian a sorrowful gaze. Unmoved, Xu Fengnian continued conversing cheerfully with the aged Taoist priest, Wei Shuyang, pretending not to notice. Helpless, Yu Youwei bitterly dismounted her horse and entered the carriage to face the informal old man draped in lambskin.
Previously, Shu Xiu had secretly hoped to tempt the Prince with her beauty for some unexpected fortune. Seeing the situation, however, she felt chilled. She had assumed that within this traveling party, the delicate girl within the carriage, though charming, was still very young—like a green peach not yet fully matured compared to the sweetness of a ripened peach. As for the maidservant driving the carriage, while not unattractive and of pleasing figure, her cold disposition gave an impression of someone who would never provide the warmth of intimate comfort. Therefore, the only real threat was the woman holding the white cat. Each time she mounted or dismounted the horse, her shapely behind swayed with a full, alluring curve. Even as a woman herself, Shu Xiu couldn’t help but find her enticing. The Prince, a seasoned connoisseur of feminine pleasures, must have brought this cat girl along on the journey precisely to satisfy those carnal cravings. Why else would he do so? If that was his preference, why shouldn’t she join in? Isn’t it said that one dragon and two phoenixes flying together in pairs bring harmony? Yet why did the Prince seem not especially affectionate toward her?
There were rumors that the Prince indulged in all manner of scandalous behavior for the sake of the beauties of Beiliang, sparing no extravagant expense. The family of the Grand Commander was vast and wealthy enough to withstand such profligacy, unlike ordinary aristocratic families in the provinces that couldn’t afford such wastefulness.
For a brief moment, Shu Xiu was overcome with despondency. Her greatest skill was not internal martial energy or assassination techniques, but her intimate art of seduction bolstered by her ability to change her appearance. Given only a portrait and the proper tools, she could transform herself into the likeness of another person within half a day—her skill was almost indistinguishable from reality. Imagine the possibilities: possessing Shu Xiu meant you could, in essence, possess every beautiful woman in the world. Even if she couldn’t entirely capture the soul, she could certainly emulate the outward appearance convincingly.
The problem lay in her unfamiliarity with the Prince. Without knowing his temperament or preferences, how could she determine which woman lived within his heart? Even with a precise portrait, a slight miscalculation could result in the opposite effect. The thought of the Grand Commander, reputed to carry the vengeance of tens of thousands of fallen soldiers from the Spring and Autumn Wars upon his back, sent shivers of fear through Shu Xiu’s spine.
If not for the Grand Commander, whose influence dominated Liang territory with such might, life would be so much easier.
This disrespectful thought came and went instantly, and Shu Xiu immediately regretted it, wanting to slap herself for even thinking such a thing.
Entering the territory of Yong Province, Xu Fengnian could not calculate precise changes in weather like an astronomer—he could never know the exact timing of rain or sunshine. This downpour arrived earlier and more fiercely than he had anticipated. He abandoned the main road and took a shortcut toward their planned resting place.
This sudden change of plans on a whim from the Prince meant extra hardship for those eager to greet and show favor.
In Yingchuan County, north of Yong Province, the city gates stood wide open. Officials ranging from the eighth to the sixth rank had all exited the city to wait patiently at a pavilion thirty li away. Leading the civil officials was Zheng Hanghai, a rotund and aged man, serving as the assistant financial supervisor of Yong Province. He managed records and accounts of the land and food supplies, having fought for years for the position of chief recorder, only to find himself repeatedly on the verge of promotion without ever achieving it. Despite his background as a jinshi degree holder, Zheng was forced to take this menial task during his leave after falling ill, having to drag his frail body outdoors.
Leading the military contingent was Deputy Commander Tang Yinshan of the East Garrison, a post of modest rank paying three hundred piculs annually but commanding a company of two hundred troops—an intimidating presence. In recent years, the tide of power in the imperial court has shifted, with the civil officials steadily gaining dominance. The four palace academicians seemed to metamorphose practically overnight into jinshi-educated civil officials, congregating in the palace and overpowering others with their numbers. Yet this was an affair of the capital city; in Beiliang, the Prince’s domain, the situation was entirely different. In Yong Province itself, military generals continued to dominate over their bureaucratic counterparts.
Tang, once from a declining family, could not hope to match the privileged aristocratic backgrounds of fellow officers from wealthy Yong families, nor did he have the patience for scholarly texts, choosing instead a martial career. He eventually earned a modest achievement during the closing stages of the great Spring and Autumn War, securing the modestly paid yet commanding position of East Garrison Deputy Commander—a position that brought him both satisfaction and authority.
The civil and military factions stood distinctly apart, with obvious disdain between them. Tang Yinshan despised the delicate manner of the civil officials behind him, each escorted by servants holding umbrellas like courtesans. Zheng Hanghai resented the arrogant demeanor of the warriors, clad in armor and wielding weapons. In a time of peace and stability, what role did these illiterate brutes have anymore? War was a terrible tool of the state; hundreds of thousands lost their lives during the war between the Eight Kingdoms, practically all at the hands of these warmongering warriors. Wasn’t that enough? The governance of the state, the economy and welfare, required the wisdom of scholars and literati.
Zheng Hanghai displayed icy hostility to the military leaders but was much more amiable with the local officials of Yingchuan County, whose ranks were much lower than his own. Zheng, a seasoned bureaucrat in his twilight years, knew all too well the inevitable fate of being discarded by the system, just as ink dries once the pen is laid down. He understood the urgency of building goodwill now, lest he find himself alone and forgotten in his retirement.
Jin Lanting, the county magistrate of Yingchuan, wiped the sweat from his neck with a silk handkerchief and carefully asked, “Venerable Zheng, the skies are threatening rain, and it seems it will be a heavy storm. Do you know when His Highness will arrive?”
Zheng smiled and replied, “Lanting, you simply don’t understand. Rain is better. During this visit by the Prince to Yingchuan, I worked hard to arrange for his stay in your private residence. Your manor features a pond with lotus flowers and courtyards shaded by banana trees. Without rain, how could His Highness appreciate the melancholy rhythm of raindrops striking banana leaves while in your home? Furthermore, welcoming guests in the rain demonstrates sincerity.”
Jin nodded in understanding and added, “I was only concerned about Your Honor catching a chill.”
Suddenly, the torrential rain began.
As large as soybeans, raindrops hammered relentlessly against the armor of the soldiers, their fierce impact echoing loudly. Even the junior officers stationed outside the pavilion stood unmoved, allowing the rain to drench their forms. These men were all veterans of a prominent general, second only to the Grand Commander.
They were determined to show off their mettle to the Prince, a mere scion of privilege who had enjoyed a life of luxury thanks to his father’s merits. They wanted to prove that across the empire, not only the thirty thousand iron riders of Beiliang were worthy of being called fearless warriors!
Poorly equipped civil officials shivered like fragile banana plants, their umbrellas utterly useless. Jin Lanting, frail and thin, abandoned his own concerns to struggle under the effort of holding an umbrella for Zheng Hanghai, whose weight was nearly double his own. Their attendants and servants bustled about in chaos, some even contemplating how to prepare some warm soup for their masters.
In the northern reaches of Yong Province, thunder crashed amidst the downpour.
In the east of Beiliang, however, a drizzle fell gently. The Grand Commander Xu Xiao and his chief strategist Li Yishan rode together in a single carriage, flanked by two hundred heavily armored riders whose horses splashed through the mud, maintaining a strict formation.
Xu Xiao pulled aside the carriage curtain and glanced at the rolling terrain, chuckling lightly, “Master Yuan, there’s no need for you to see me off further. Return to the estate with Liu Pu.”
Li Yishan nodded, hesitating as if to speak.
The Grand Commander understood his thoughts and smiled, “It’s true that I’m arrogant, but I am not an impulsive fool. My journey to the capital isn’t a whim to quarrel verbally with those scholars and students. Chancellor Zhang Julu may have irked me, but compared to that old Grand Tutor Zhou, who once struck his head outside the Kunji Hall in anger, he is still far more respectful and humble. That old fellow, Grand Tutor Zhou, might have cursed me, but he was far too inferior when it came to a physical fight. Yet he was still a genuine man of character. This Zhang Julu, on the other hand, isn’t quite the same. He is a rare example of a scholar capable of great achievements. His alliance with General Gu Jiantang and his ability to convince Gu to pacify the other military officers, conceding time and time again, shows that this young prime minister, who has never had dealings with me, is shrewd and calculating. Though young, his patience and temperament are of an exceptional standard. I must see for myself how capable he is. I can’t afford not to. Scholars and literati can wound and kill with words more brutally than anything else. Leaving aside whether the northern border troops will be targeted, for the sake of all the veteran soldiers who have only recently tasted the peace and stability of a few quiet years, I must go and show these inexperienced civilian officials that Xu Xiao is far from being unable to ride his horse.”
Li Yishan said quietly, “Back then, you and Gu Jiantang debated endlessly over whether you should stay as the leader of the court’s military officials or be sent away to take on the burden of becoming a king figure, bearing the blame of de facto rulership. Even the Grand Academician of the Shangyin Academy got involved behind the scenes. The late emperor, against widespread dissent, chose you over Gu Jiantang, who was easier to control, to station in Beiliang. Such magnanimity was truly worthy of the words ‘Majestic and Peerless’ inscribed above the Tingchao. Yet, the hanging of the Nine Dragon Plaque there must have also carried a hidden warning.”
Xu Xiao chuckled, “The late emperor was good at everything except indulging in the politics of an emperor. When it comes to generosity, Master Yuan, your interpretation is biased. Back then, during the battle at Xilei Wall, would I really have betrayed him? Didn’t the late emperor see through it all? Yet he still allowed my fourteen former comrades from the Beiliang to die by colliding in the court. Why? Because they annoyed him?”
Li Yishan shook his head, “Has your resentment not faded entirely?”
Xu Xiao sneered, “When have I ever been a man of broad tolerance?”
Li Yishan gazed at the Grand Commander solemnly and asked, “Is it really just to witness Zhang Julu’s skills with your own eyes?”
Xu Xiao laughed loudly, “Some people see Xu Xiao as a hunched, limping, old and feeble man, and only then can they sleep soundly. It’s pitiful how hard they have tried to climb onto the dragon throne without even one day of peaceful rest.”
Li Yishan smiled helplessly.
Just as he was about to disembark from the carriage, Xu Fengnian softly remarked, “The Ninth Move of the Tingchao, it might just end up with you winning.”
Li Yishan, his back to the Grand Commander, lifted the curtain and said with emotion, “Only if you return alive will it count as my victory.”
The Grand Commander chuckled and scolded, “Nonsense! Do you think I would willingly die? As long as I have no wish to die, who could ever kill Xu Fengnian?”
Li Yishan, who had been holding his breath with tension for many days, suddenly felt his spirits lift. After dismounting, he bowed sincerely, saying, “I humbly beg the Grand Commander to spare the lives of the scholars this time. Too many were slain in the unjust war of the Spring and Autumn.”
Xu Fengnian smiled and said, “Yuan Ying, Yuan Ying, your stubborn and pedantic scholar spirit is the most difficult to tolerate. In the past, Zhao Changling was much more skillful than you in managing affairs.”
Li Yishan took the reins from the guardian Liu Pu without concern and replied, “Zhao Changling, the foremost strategist of the Jiangzuo region, was adept at decision-making. Had he lived until today, he would still have clashed with your son, causing you many more headaches.”
Xu Fengnian let the curtain fall and smiled as he passed.
On a small path at the border of Yong Province, Lü Qiantang suddenly halted his horse and drew his sword, almost unable to open his eyes against the rain.
At the far end of the narrow path stood a figure clad in red armor, an ancient talisman general thought to have vanished from the jianghu.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage