Qi Jijiu sighed with emotion. Crown Prince Zhao Zhuan and Jin Lanting remained silent with smiles on their faces. They had not yet reached the level where they could freely exchange wits with Qi Yanglong. At the very least, they had not yet reached his age. As the heir apparent of Liyang, Zhao Zhuan naturally had the most confidence, yet he was also the one who held the deepest reverence for Qi Yanglong. This was because between him and the Grand Academician of the Shangyin Academy stood a towering mountain—Yuan Benxi. Among the entire group, only Zhao Zhuan knew of the master-disciple relationship between Qi Yanglong and Ban Cun She.
Moreover, with Qi Yanglong’s scholarly prestige and seniority, even a casual remark from the elder—such as commenting on the pleasant weather—might send Wu Shizhen and Wang Yuanran into deep contemplation about the political winds in the capital and the great affairs of the realm.
Qi Jijiu swept his gaze across the group. Seeing that none of the young people he addressed had responded, he smiled with understanding. At that moment, Yuan Tingshan stepped forward and said with a grin, “Only by living to reach Master Qi’s age can one truly be considered fortunate.”
Qi Yanglong glanced at this young martial artist whose fame had already spread through the capital. Rather than being offended by Yuan Tingshan’s blunt speech, Qi openly showed admiration in his eyes. He met Yuan’s gaze and nodded, saying, “Indeed, a wretched life is better than a noble death. Especially for a general like you, who has long served on the border, enduring wind and rain while clad in armor. Missing out on a few campaigns is no great matter. As long as you survive, everything else will follow.”
Yuan Tingshan hesitated for a moment, then grinned and said, “Master Qi, you really are more straightforward than those old fogeys back in the capital who think so highly of themselves. If you ever get the chance to visit Jizhou, I promise to bring out the finest wine. After all, a toast to the Jijiu cannot be done without drinking!”
Zhao Zhuan smiled warmly, though with a hint of helplessness, and said, “Master Qi, don’t take offense at this rough man’s words.”
Waving his hand with a chuckle, Qi Yanglong replied, “A life spent in the vast desert and borderlands truly nurtures a bold spirit. That saying holds true. I plan to travel along the entire border next year, from the Two Liao regions all the way to western Jizhou. I only hope then that General Yuan’s wine cellar will be sufficient.”
Yuan Tingshan chuckled, “This year, I’ve been busy killing the rich to aid the poor at the borders of Jizhou, and not a single coin has ever entered my own pocket. But if it’s about treating Master Qi to a few jars of fine wine, I believe my salary should be more than enough.”
Jin Lanting, who had been smiling cautiously all along, paused in his expression and glanced toward the Crown Prince. Seeing Zhao Zhuan’s calm and composed demeanor, he realized the prince did not fear Yuan Tingshan would invite trouble with his words. Wang Yuanran and the others deeply admired this “mad dog” Yuan for his audacity. After all, the man before them was a national pillar secretly summoned by the court to counterbalance Chancellor Zhang. When speaking with him, who among them didn’t try their best to hide their own faults, fearing even the slightest displeasure from Qi Yanglong might doom them to obscurity in the imperial court for the next twenty years?
Even someone like Wang Yuanran, who was known to walk boldly through the capital, would not dare to challenge the Old Man Tantan openly. Even when facing senior officials like Yin Maochun and Yuan Guo, whom he addressed as uncles and elders, he would obediently keep his tail between his legs, pretending to be humble and respectful.
Qi Yanglong looked at Yuan Tingshan, who seemed carefree and unburdened. This young hero of the jianghu had stirred up the stagnant bureaucracy of Jizhou so much that even the old bones of the officials nearly shattered. Yuan had come to the capital to bear the blame, and if he had delayed any longer, even his adoptive father Gu Jiantang might not have been able to save his position and military authority. In northern Jizhou, Yuan had carried out brutal purges, accusing many powerful families—rooted there for centuries—of treason and collusion with the enemy, executing them summarily without waiting for the Jizhou governor, Qin Huchen, to report to the Ministry of War and the Ministry of Justice.
If there had been only one or two such incidents, perhaps Qin Huchen would have turned a blind eye, even going so far as to cover for Yuan, who was Gu Jiantang’s adopted son. But after autumn arrived, Yuan’s harsh measures only intensified. The northern Jizhou clans were tightly intermarried, their power deeply entwined. The so-called Twelve Clans of Jizhou were all connected by marriage, with clan leaders being in-laws. Yet Yuan Tingshan slaughtered four entire families in one fell swoop. As a result, the border region of Jizhou fell into turmoil. The censors began filing complaints, and both the Jizhou general and the deputy commander responsible for military affairs were caught in the fallout. They were not only severely reprimanded by the Ministry of War, but it was even rumored that the Emperor himself had begun to take notice. The Emperor’s gaze, which had long been fixed on the Guangling Circuit, finally shifted slightly toward Jizhou. Yet Grand Commander Gu Jiantang remained indifferent, showing no sign of defending his adopted son.
Then Yuan Tingshan quietly arrived in Taian City, somehow managing to board the Crown Prince’s ship and enter Qi Mansion. The man known as “Yuan the Mad Dog” certainly understood that speaking with Qi Yanglong was no different from speaking directly to the Emperor himself—though perhaps even more effective, and more subtly beneficial.
Sensing the heavy atmosphere around him, the old man laughed heartily, clapped Yuan Tingshan on the shoulder, and without any pretense—despite the generational gap—spoke directly, “Since you’ve praised me as a straightforward man, General Yuan, you might as well act accordingly. You brought the entire dowry of the Yan Fortress bride to the capital, and before it even had time to warm your hands, you started using it to grease the wheels of influence. I’ve heard it hasn’t been very effective—few dare to accept it. As for me, I don’t hold a high rank, and I have nothing to fear of losing my post. I can certainly put in a few words for you. Not entirely for your sake, mind you—it’s more about going with the flow. I should be able to help you through this immediate crisis. But the root of the matter, General Yuan, you must still consider carefully. Otherwise, if this continues, no one will be willing to waste their reputation and goodwill for you. On this matter, you could learn from the old Northern Liang King.”
Yuan Tingshan couldn’t help but feel a hint of mockery, but facing this profound and enigmatic Grand Academician, he swallowed his complaints. Even when standing before the great General Gu Jiantang, who had the glory of conquering two nations, Yuan had always been direct and forthright.
Qi Yanglong, of course, had heard of Yuan’s feud with the Xu family. With a tone full of earnest advice, he continued, “To aspire to emulate the virtuous—that is a realm only the truly virtuous can reach. But the desire to surpass one’s enemies in power and status is a natural human instinct. The latter is far more likely to lead to success. Just like you, Yuan Tingshan, you look down on Mi Fu, who commands nine thousand troops in northern Jizhou, and you resent Qin Huchen, the governor of the entire province. You must constantly think of adding a few thousand more soldiers to your command or pushing Qin aside to become the governor yourself. In recent times, you’ve indeed been laying the groundwork for that. So, by the same logic, why can’t you learn from the ways of that ‘Butcher of Men,’ carefully studying the rise of that martial figure who holds the greatest achievements of the Spring and Autumn era? Could it be that what you truly desire is…”
At this point, the old man narrowed his eyes. Yuan Tingshan quickly interrupted, his face twisting into a pained expression, “Enough, enough! I give up. Master Qi, you win. Don’t worry, I understand your meaning. As long as you remain in the imperial court, I’ll follow your instructions to the letter. As for where I end up in the end, well, I’ll decide that when the time comes. If you’ve already retired by then, I won’t promise to obey you in everything, but I’ll still heed your advice.”
Those around them, hearing this exchange, felt as though they were lost in a fog. Wang Yuanran, the young nobleman, gave up trying to understand and instead absentmindedly admired the rare flowers and strange rocks in Qi Mansion. Jin Lanting, however, carefully pondered every word. This brief conversation between the old man and the young general revealed many secrets to him.
First, when Qi Jijiu said he was merely going with the flow, it implied that the Emperor was not angry about the unrest in northern Jizhou, but rather secretly pleased. Jin Lanting was not surprised by this. Years ago, the Han family had been wiped out, marking the first round of pruning in the border region of Jizhou. Another round was likely coming.
Second, Qi Jijiu hinted that there would soon be an inspection tour along the entire eastern border, from the Two Liao regions to western Jizhou. Perhaps the Liao provinces were unhappy with the court’s decision to send a vice-minister of the Ministry of War to “inspect on behalf of the Emperor,” and there had been resistance. Therefore, a high-ranking official with greater authority than a third-rank vice-minister was needed to soothe tensions and establish a precedent. Once that was done, the practice of sending vice-ministers to inspect the border and supervise military affairs would become acceptable.
Jin Lanting even thought further ahead—perhaps the inspection could be expanded beyond the eastern border. Could the term “border” be extended to include the western front of Northern Liang and the extreme southern regions of the Nantang Circuit? Third, when the old man urged Yuan Tingshan to learn from the “Butcher of Men” Xu Xiao, did it mean that the court, which had previously bestowed the posthumous title “Wuli” upon Xu, was now beginning to shift its stance in light of the Northern Liang invasion, seeking to add some positive historical recognition to Xu’s legacy? If that were true, then Jin Lanting could not afford to oppose the court at this critical moment.
Jin Lanting instinctively stared at a pile of fengshui rocks he found hideous, suddenly realizing he was no longer the naive newcomer who had first arrived in the capital. He dared not claim to have fully matured, but he had at least begun to grasp the hidden currents of the Liyang dynasty. As long as he followed Qi Yanglong’s advice and “went with the flow,” how could he fail to leave his mark on history? How could he remain forever confined to the small world of the Imperial Academy? The “Spring of Yonghui” had been created by Chancellor Zhang and the Old Man Tantan, bringing two decades of peace. Now, with his own youth and vigor—only in his early thirties—Jin Lanting believed he could cultivate his health and live another forty years, serving two or even three emperors. When he reached Qi Yanglong’s age, perhaps he too would stand in a courtyard, surrounded by young talents eager to rise to the highest ranks of the court, gazing at him with reverence.
Perhaps sensing that he had favored Yuan Tingshan too openly, the old man turned to Wu Shizhen and struck up a conversation, “Master Wu, the Great Immortal Wu has been busy traveling all year. Not long ago, your father visited my home, and I must say, he looked even thinner than this old man. Young Immortal, you should remind your father—health is more important than anything.”
Wu Shizhen was deeply honored and quickly bowed deeply, both humbled and delighted, saying, “My father has long admired Master Qi. In private, he once said that it would be the greatest honor of his life to serve in the same court as you. As for me, I secretly believe that if my father loses a few pounds, but can thereby accumulate more merit for the dynasty, it is a sacrifice worth making.”
The Song family of the capital had once held sway over the literary world, but now the Wu family had taken their place, wielding great influence in Daoist affairs of the north. In Taian City, when one old man departs, another quickly rises to take his place.
Qi Yanglong merely smiled and nodded, then turned his gaze to Wang Yuanran. The young man, upon meeting the elder’s eyes, became as silent as a mouse, his usual arrogance and pride vanishing in an instant. The old man sighed, “It’s good for a young bull to fear no tiger when he has nothing to lose—after all, fortune favors the bold. But if you young men of privilege and status still fear nothing, it becomes a danger to the nation. Yuanran, your father has worked hard to rise in office. Though you are not the eldest son, you need not bear the burden of the family, yet you are the one he loves most. If even you fear an old man like me, that is a good thing. It seems the rumors that the Old Man Tantan is watching your every move in the Imperial Academy are not without foundation. Yuanran, do not betray the good intentions of Chancellor Huan.”
Wang Yuanran was too nervous to even understand what the old man had said. He simply nodded vigorously, his face flushed red.
Watching Wang Yuanran’s discomfort, Crown Prince Zhao Zhuan’s lips curled into a faint smile.
Qi Yanglong then exchanged a few words with the two young scions who were no better off than Wang Yuanran, before turning to Zhao Zhuan with a smile, “Your Highness, shall we take a stroll around the mansion?”
As they walked along a quiet stone path still shaded by greenery, Qi Yanglong teased, “Your Highness, your father-in-law just left, and you followed right after. Was this a prearranged plan between father and son-in-law? Are you trying to gang up on this old man and give me a cold reception?”
Zhao Zhuan wore an expression of innocence as he replied, “Master Qi, if I told my father-in-law what you just said, wouldn’t our esteemed Minister of the Dongyuan Pavilion lose sleep over it? Then my wife would be angry, and I’d be the one losing sleep.”
The old man laughed heartily, “Your Highness, loving both the Rivers and mountains and Beauty—this is a blessing for the nation.”
They walked together for the time it took to drink a cup of tea. Suddenly, Song Tanglu, the young Grand Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial, appeared before them. Zhao Zhuan said nothing and immediately turned back, leading his group of like-minded guests from the Eastern Palace out of Qi Mansion. They all seemed to have arrived joyfully and departed just as joyfully.
Before climbing into their carriages, Jin Lanting, whose carriage was near Wu Shizhen’s, walked over and softly said, “Shizhen, remember this—tell your father exactly what Master Qi said: ‘Health is more important than anything.’”
Wu Shizhen was puzzled and asked, “Huh? What does that mean, Third Young Master?”
Jin Lanting did not explain further, his expression calm as he said, “Just relay the words. Your father will understand.”
After a moment of thought, Wu Shizhen finally grasped the hidden meaning and his expression grew solemn. He lowered his voice and said, “Third Young Master, I will remember this kindness!”
Jin Lanting waved him off and stepped into his carriage.
Inside a deliberately plain carriage, Jin Lanting, now respectfully called “Third Young Master” by the capital’s elite, sat cross-legged, gently tapping his fingers together, a deep smile on his face.
Someone once said, with profound insight into the ways of the world, that if the entire realm were likened to a vast net, with roads as its threads, then the imperial capital of Taian would be the starting point of that net. Whether one could be called a central figure in the court was not determined by rank, but by whether one had the ability to weave the threads of the net. Jin Lanting felt he had already reached that point, for he could now influence many powerful figures and subtly shape the course of the Liyang dynasty. Though his influence was still small, the trend was clear to all and could not be ignored.
Yuan Tingshan’s visit to the capital was not made with fanfare. Just like this visit to Qi Mansion, he had “conveniently” joined the Crown Prince’s carriage. Sitting side by side, Zhao Zhuan and Yuan Tingshan leaned lazily against the carriage walls, clearly the two who got along best among the group.
Zhao Zhuan smiled and asked, “Tingshan, why did you stop Master Qi from finishing his words?”
Yuan Tingshan reached out to touch the hilt of his famous sword, “Jiaojin,” which he had not worn into the mansion, and his eyes grew complex.
Zhao Zhuan closed his eyes, his smile unwavering, “In truth, whether you become the next Xu Xiao or Gu Jiantang matters little to me. Compared to my wise and mighty father, I fall far short. But in one thing, I surpass him slightly—my ability to tolerate others.”
Yuan Tingshan straightened his back, drenched in sweat.
Zhao Zhuan murmured to himself, “Heavy frost strikes harder than the sun, yet even a humble farmer understands this simple truth. Alas, so many clever men in the capital do not.”
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