Qi Shence stood by the window, gazing at the captivating woman seated cross-legged in discussion, his eyes enraptured. Amidst the chaos of war and turmoil, when the nation suffered misfortune, scholarship thrived. The Shangyin Academy temporarily welcomed many scholars who had fled across the river from Guangling Road. The number of Jixia scholars immediately reached nearly ten thousand, and the number of Jixia Masters surpassed six hundred for the first time, a figure even more impressive than during the academy’s peak in the great dynasties of Daqin and Dafeng. In this moment when the smoke of war seemed close at hand, the academy remained a pure land untouched by the clamor of hooves and weapons, still filled with masters giving lectures and students listening attentively. The Jixia Master inside the room near the window was one of the academy’s most popular scholars in recent years. Her lectures on phonetics and prosody always drew overflowing crowds, regardless of cold or heat. When there were no seats left inside, people simply stood outside the window, just like the many students crowded around Qishence, all focused intently, though whether they were there to listen or to see her was unclear.
Qi Shence, after all, was the eldest grandson of the prestigious Qi family, and a celebrated figure at the Shangyin Academy. When he arrived by the window, many students who had previously occupied the prime spots near the window quietly gave way. As he gazed at the voluptuous woman whom even many younger Jixia Masters respectfully addressed as Master Yu, he recalled, without apparent reason, a snowy winter evening the previous year. At that time, an unknown white-haired youth had secretly visited the academy’s Buddha Palm Lake. The two had engaged in a tense, veiled confrontation. Qi Shence had not had the chance to draw his sword, “Linglong,” ranked twelfth among the famous swords of Dongyue Sword Pond. Afterward, as he gradually deduced the young man’s identity and heard of his exploits around the academy, Qi Shence had gone through a period of despair. But not long after, he regained his resolve. With the Northern Meng’s hundred thousand troops pressing on the northwest border, and the Jiang family’s banner rising high along Guangling Road, Qi Shence grew increasingly ambitious. He had always excelled in his studies at the academy, second only to Xu Weixiong in strategy, second to Kou Jianghuai in military science, and the best in swordsmanship. Since Kou Jianghuai had risen to fame, Qi Shence, whose family background and learning were no less impressive, had every reason to believe he could rise to prominence in the chaos and become the one to restore his family’s former glory.
Inside the room, the woman who spoke eloquently about the principles of phonetics and prosody across dynasties wore a stone-blue robe with a pale red sash around her waist. Though seated cross-legged, her graceful figure was unmistakable. From head to toe, she exuded a flowing charm that was breathtaking and endlessly enchanting. Beside her sat a small incense burner, uniquely prepared with steamed sandalwood and pear, producing a fragrance that was both soothing and refined. The room was filled with a gentle mist, and she, seated alone beneath the wall like a goddess in the clouds, was a vision. On the wall hung more than a dozen scrolls yet to be unfurled. Standing beside her was a young girl with twin buns, a child leader at the academy known as Little Wooden Fish. Her parents were both academy masters, once prominent nobles of the Northern Han, but their family had fallen into poverty during the chaotic Spring and Autumn period. Her father was once a half-disciple of Master Wang, the former Grand Sacrificial Winebearer who had left the academy. For reasons unknown, he had not followed Master Wang to Beiliang, choosing instead to remain at the academy as a poor and frustrated teacher, perhaps embodying the ideal of finding contentment in poverty.
Unlike the many students who came to the lectures more for admiration than learning, Qi Shence truly listened with heart and mind as Master Yu taught. This summer, she had published a book titled *Golden Market Rhymes*, which received praise and a preface from the then-retired Grand Sacrificial Winebearer Qi. The book sold out the very day it was released. Divided into two volumes, it explained only thirty-six characters in total, yet it was comprehensive and profound. Many of its lines had spread throughout the academy. For example, in explaining the character “Dong” (East), she wrote, “A woman’s delicate eyebrows, like a crescent moon; a man’s bold spirit, like a rainbow stretching ten thousand miles.” In explaining “Zhong” (Loyalty), she wrote, “The Qin Emperor pacified the world with a single battle; the Dafeng Emperor maintained peace with a three-foot sword.” But the line that most moved Qi Shence’s grandfather was in the explanation of “Jiang” (River): “A thousand mountains face ten thousand waters; home country faces foreign lands.” Moreover, Master Yu had pioneered a unique study of phonetics, tracing the evolution of tones since the introduction of Western Buddhist chants into the Central Plains. Initially, Qi Shence’s grandfather had strongly opposed his grandson’s attachment to a fallen woman, but recently his stance had softened, though he still did not approve, he no longer outright rejected it.
Inside the room, Master Yu was now explaining the battle songs of various military units throughout history. Little Wooden Fish was responsible for unrolling the scrolls, each bearing lyrics that were either grand or mournful. Only two units in the present age had received such honor: the Dong family army led by Dong Zhuo, the Southern Court King of the Northern Meng, and the Northern Liang border army’s *Song of Northern Liang*. Qi Shence clearly sensed the subtle joy Master Yu tried to conceal when she spoke of the Northern Liang song, followed by a deep melancholy. Having spent years among flowers without a single petal sticking to his robe, Qi Shence understood well: love that runs shallow is easy to take up, but love that runs deep is hard to let go. Yet he did not believe that the woman he adored truly pined for that young man who had once visited the academy. Otherwise, why had she not followed him back to Northern Liang, but instead remained alone at the Shangyin Academy?
As the lesson neared its end, a plump white cat suddenly darted in from somewhere. At the Shangyin Academy, this cat was as famous as its owner, beloved for its adorable yet clever nature. Many a Jixia Master’s meal had mysteriously vanished, carried off by this feline. Master Liu Zhen, who taught the doctrine of kingship and hegemony at the academy, kept a beloved white crane, affectionately calling it “Crane Wife.” However, over the past six months, the crane had lost many feathers to the white cat’s mischief. After countless complaints to Master Yu, Master Liu had no choice but to abandon his plum grove and relocate to the most remote part of the academy to escape the clutches of this “Mei Niang” (Enchantress) of a cat.
The white cat leapt into Master Yu’s arms, causing all the Jixia scholars to silently drool. The bold ones stared unblinkingly, their hearts stirred, while the timid ones discreetly averted their eyes, fearing their faces might betray their admiration. Everyone knew that Master Yu’s mother had been the swordswoman to the former emperor of Western Chu, and her sword dance had been one of the Four Great Arts of the Chu Dynasty, alongside Ye Baikui’s military strategy, Li Qin’s chess skills, and Wang Qing’s poetry. It was said that Master Yu had inherited her mother’s sword dance perfectly. Moreover, the Jixia scholars were not blind; they all knew that Master Yu was not only learned but also possessed a figure that defied description. To see her perform a sword dance would be worth sacrificing ten years of life.
When the lecture ended, whether seated inside or standing outside, all the Jixia scholars, including Qi Shence, respectfully bowed. Master Yu slightly bowed in return and then allowed the students to leave first. She gently set down the white cat, Mei Niang, who had been dozing in her arms, and helped Little Wooden Fish gather the scrolls from the wall.
At this moment, Qi Shence went against the flow, entering the room and quietly watching her as she stretched to reach the scrolls. As she raised her arms, her waist, tightly bound by the jade sash, appeared exquisitely slender, while other parts of her were abundantly full. Qi Shence’s heart stirred, and he smiled to himself. Just as one prefers the undulating beauty of mountains over flat plains, so too did he appreciate a woman’s curves.
The now-renowned Yu Huanji, using her real name Yu Xuanji, ignored Qi Shence and looked down at the eager Little Wooden Fish, who had volunteered to carry the scrolls. She gently patted the girl’s head and softly asked, “Can you manage?”
The girl with twin buns, always eager to prove herself, nodded vigorously. Glancing sideways at Qi Shence, whom she disliked, she stuck her tongue out at Yu Huanji and then ran out of the room.
Yu Youwei, who had once used the name Yu Youwei in Beiliang, calmly looked at Qi Shence and asked, “Is there something?”
Qi Shence smiled. “Just a farewell.”
Yu Youwei merely said, “Oh,” and offered nothing more. Clearly, she meant, “We are nothing special. If you must go, I won’t stop or see you off.”
Qi Shence hesitated for a moment but did not turn to leave. Instead, he sat behind a common huanghuali low desk found throughout the Shangyin Academy, like a student seeking guidance from a teacher. It could not be denied that this future head of the Qi family was charming and dashing. Rumors said many mature and still alluring female masters at the academy had fallen for him, not to mention the young female Jixia scholars in their prime. Whenever Qi Shence went out, he was never without noblewomen trying to approach him through connections. Now, sitting upright, he looked up at the standing Master Yu and softly asked, “Master Yu, do you think I should go find my good friend Kou Jianghuai for a drink or go study at the Imperial Academy in the capital?”
Yu Youwei frowned. “You should ask your grandfather, who chose not to follow the tide and serve in Western Chu.”
Qi Shence smiled knowingly. “Western Chu? Shouldn’t it be Great Chu? Well, I already know the answer. I shall go to Tai’an City.”
Yu Youwei remained silent, her expression cold.
Qi Shence slowly stood up, gazing directly at the woman who kept all men at arm’s length, and gently said, “Xuanji, can you wait for me for three years? In three years, I will have achieved fame and fortune, and everyone in the court and country will know Qi Shence as they know Kou Jianghuai.”
To his surprise, Yu Youwei smiled—a sight Qi Shence had never seen before.
Just as Qi Shence thought he had a chance, Yu Youwei turned to the window and calmly said, “What of Kou Jianghuai? Even if you were the extraordinary Cao Changqing, who transcended the mortal world and became the top swordsman, would that make you great?”
Yu Youwei smiled strangely again and asked, “Is that truly great? Are you saying you’re the strongest in the world?”
Qi Shence felt a chill run through him, as if plunged into icy water.
When it came to family background and achievements, there was one person whom Qi Shence could never hope to rival.
The hereditary Prince of Beiliang, commanding thirty thousand elite troops. The number one martial artist in the world, making the Jianghu of both Liyang and Northern Meng bow in submission.
Qi Shence quickly recovered from his gloom, shook his head, and with a determined gaze, said, “It’s different. I will rise from the ranks, step by step.”
Yu Youwei seemed to hear an enormous joke, nearly bursting into laughter. She waved her hand mockingly and said, “Don’t say any more. I’ll die laughing. Qi Shence, I won’t hold you back from going to the battlefield to achieve glory.”
Qi Shence did not become angry. He asked, “Before I leave, I’d like to know what’s so funny. One person’s joy is another’s.”
Yu Youwei extended her hand, clearly issuing a dismissal.
Qi Shence, worthy of being the heir to the Qi family, was decisive and did not linger in lovesick despair. He turned and strode out of the room.
After Qi Shence had gone, Yu Youwei crouched down, picked up Mei Niang, and gazed into the cat’s eyes with a smile. “There was someone who told a joke,” she murmured, “about a tortoise and a rabbit racing. He said the rabbit could never catch up to the tortoise. He called it a paradox and spent half an hour explaining it with a wine cup and chopsticks. But I always thought it was nonsense, just a joke. Mei Niang, don’t you agree?”
She pressed her cheek against the cat’s head, her eyes filled with sorrow. “Mei Niang, is it lonely when no one bullies you anymore?”
Yu Youwei slowly closed her eyes. “To live here with your body, but die there with your heart—that’s the real paradox.”
Little Wooden Fish, having returned to the door after happily skipping away to put down the scrolls, saw Yu Youwei kneeling on the ground in tears and immediately flew into a rage. She hurriedly ran to Yu Youwei’s side, squatting down and angrily shouting, “Yu Sister, Yu Sister! Did that Qi scoundrel bully you? I’ll kick him to death right now!”
Yu Youwei opened her eyes, somewhat helplessly smiling. “No.”
Little Wooden Fish looked doubtful. “Really not?”
Yu Youwei nodded.
The little girl raised her fist and waved it. “Yu Sister, didn’t you secretly tell me that guy was the one who defeated Old Master Wang, the immortal? Hmph! Remember when he said I had Invincible fists and Peerless legs?”
Then the little girl timidly asked, “Yu Sister, why are you crying then?”
Caught in a moment of vulnerability by a child, Yu Youwei blushed slightly and made an excuse. “Just a moment of sadness.”
Reassured, Little Wooden Fish suddenly grinned. “Heh, Yu Sister, I’ll go study medicine.”
Yu Youwei was puzzled. “Why?”
The little girl laughed. “To make you a potion of regret!”
Yu Youwei was momentarily stunned, then pinched Little Wooden Fish’s rosy cheek and said, “When you grow up, you’ll understand that some things are better regretted than not.”
Little Wooden Fish made a face. “Then I won’t grow up. If I keep regretting, my heart will break for sure.”
Yu Youwei smiled, stood up, holding the big white cat in one arm and Little Wooden Fish’s hand in the other, and walked out of the room.
On the way back to her quarters, passing by Buddha Palm Lake, Little Wooden Fish couldn’t help but exclaim, “Last time, the white-haired older brother made a snowman, and it was really, really big!”
For some reason, as she looked up at Yu Sister, she noticed her looking down as if gazing at her own chest, and the expression on her face was exactly what the rakes at the academy often described as “delightfully alluring.”
Little Wooden Fish gasped inwardly. She understood. That guy who used to come to her house for meals must have touched Yu Sister there!
As she stood up for Yu Sister, she also felt a little curious—why didn’t Yu Sister seem angry? In fact, she seemed a little happy?
She still didn’t quite understand the grown-ups’ entanglements of love and hatred.
The little girl, who had grown up poor and prematurely mature, sighed heavily and muttered to herself, “Indeed, the name of that pill of regret must be called ‘Farewell in the Jianghu,’ and the root of the illness it treats is ‘Unable to Share Moisture in Desolation.'”
※※※
North of the Juizi Prefecture and south of the Xihé Prefecture in the Xiongnu Empire lay the world-renowned city of Dunhuang. Once, the greatest demon lord of the Xiongnu, Luo Yang, had ruled half of this city. With Luo Yang’s rebellion against the Xiongnu and the fury of the Empress, Luo Yang slaughtered his way through encirclement and fled into the territory of Li Yang, vanishing entirely from the martial world of the Xiongnu. However, for Dunhuang, caught between two fires, this was like pouring oil onto flames. Especially when the War God, Tuoba Pusa, under the Empress’s command, swept through the hinterlands, purging all the rebellious grassland rulers, although the Commandant of Xihé, Helian Wei Wu, had always turned a blind eye to Dunhuang and bore no great ill will, and the Commandant of Juizi Prefecture, Murong Bao Ding, was even regarded as the hidden patron of Dunhuang, the great upheaval sweeping through the northern court of the Xiongnu inevitably affected Dunhuang. Many proud and fierce grassland rulers were forced to flee their territories to avoid Tuoba Pusa’s wrath, causing chaos like a swarm of locusts. Fortunately, the city had the newly appointed General Xu Pu commanding the military, along with the prominent local elites Yuwen Tuan and Duanmu Chongyang serving as influential officers, so the townspeople felt that as long as Dunhuang did not raise a banner of rebellion, even if some cross-border marauding rulers sought to seize the city, Dunhuang would not be easily defeated. However, what most unsettled the residents who relied on Dunhuang was their beautiful Lady City Governor. After quelling the bloody rebellion within the city, she vanished—disappearing for more than half a year. During that time, not only could ordinary nobles not see her, even the heads of the Yuwen and Duanmu families, regarded as “old ministers of two dynasties,” could not get a glimpse of her. It was not until this summer that she finally returned to the sight of Dunhuang. During that time, rumors ran rampant, wild tales flying everywhere—some said this “Little Empress” of the Xiongnu had been kidnapped by Murong Bao Ding, lusting after her beauty, others claimed she had been summoned into the imperial tent by the Empress and recognized as her beloved niece. In short, every bizarre and fantastical story circulated. Fortunately, after being absent for over half a year, she finally reclaimed her authority from Xu Pu, the once destitute man who had overnight become a general.
Inside the grand Jiuxiang Palace stood a modest courtyard named Qingliu, filled with plantains. For some reason, it had always been forbidden ground. Strangely, it wasn’t heavily guarded either—Dunhuang’s imperial guards never patrolled or stood watch here.
It was more like a cold palace.
At this moment, the outside world was abuzz with rumors that General Xu Pu, supposedly now at odds with the Lady Governor, was sitting on a stone bench inside the courtyard, facing only the Lady of Dunhuang, with no maids or servants in sight.
Xu Pu, or rather, Xu Pu as he once was, who had once wielded cavalry power alongside Wu Qi, the brother-in-law of the Prince of Beiliang, was now reporting to her the latest battlefield developments along the border between Beiliang and the Xiongnu. Three elite cavalry divisions from the southern court of the Xiongnu had invaded the three provinces of Liang, You, and Liu, but although the drums of war thundered, the rain of arrows was sparse. Only the cavalry invading Liu Province had made a brief appearance, facing off briefly before withdrawing without battle. The forces dispatched toward Liang and You provinces had vanished entirely. No matter how deeply Dunhuang’s spies dug for intelligence, they found nothing. Even Dunhuang’s top spy had reached a high-ranking official in the southern court, second only to the Commandant, yet returned empty-handed. Xu Pu refused to believe this was due to generals acting independently beyond their orders—either Dong Zhu had hatched a sudden scheme, or the Grand Peace Edict had long planned this strategy. Whichever it was, Xu Pu sensed an impending storm. If he were still a general in Beiliang’s border forces, he could remain calm and composed, but now, as merely an “outsider” stuck in the heart of the Xiongnu, watching the flames from afar, he couldn’t help but feel a stifling weight in his chest.
The woman before him was many things: a top servant in the Wutong Courtyard of the Beiliang Prince’s Mansion, a loyal assassin by the Young Master’s side, the Lady Governor of Dunhuang, and a top-ranked killer in the Xiongnu martial world.
As Hong Shu listened to how the vanguard cavalry that had advanced south into Liu Province had retreated without battle, she murmured softly, “Uncle Xu, the late General spent twenty years carefully cultivating the provinces of Liang and You. With General Yan Wenluan guarding You, and Chu Lushan personally stationed at the northern gate of Liang, Dong Zhu’s decision to strike Liu Province was indeed certain. The Xiongnu seeks Liu as a breakthrough, while we Beiliang use it as bait. Each side has its own objectives. Ultimately, it seems to come down to whether terrain or human unity will prevail.”
Xu Pu replied calmly, “If the Xiongnu is determined to crush Liu Province, the land with no cities to defend and no natural barriers will surely fall. The key lies in how much flesh both sides will lose in this slaughterhouse. In my view, even if the Xiongnu loses 150,000 elite troops in Liu, if our Beiliang loses 50,000 soldiers—just 50,000, once that line is crossed, even by a single soldier, Beiliang will have already lost this war. The defense of Liang’s northwest and You’s north is merely to buy time for Liyang. Beiliang, Xiongnu, and Liyang stand as three pillars. Liyang can afford the most time and resources, followed closely by the Xiongnu, while Beiliang is the most strained.”
Hong Shu, deeply concerned, said, “All three of the Dragon and Elephant Armies are in Liu Province.”
Xu Pu sighed, “That is exactly how the Prince has declared his stance to all the people of Beiliang. Guarding the nation’s gate and fighting to the death at the border—if we lose, those who die in battle will surely bear the surname Xu.”
Hong Shu asked, “Is it worth it?”
Xu Pu did not answer.
Hong Shu answered herself, “Many things cannot simply be judged as worth it or not.”
Suddenly, Hong Shu asked, “Uncle Xu, how is the martial potential of that young eunuch, Dong Shou?”
Xu Pu smiled, “His potential is average, but his nature is pure and kind. In the path of martial cultivation, talent alone does not guarantee success. Besides, the secret manual chosen by the Lady herself does not demand exceptional innate qualities, only persistence and gradual accumulation.”
Hong Shu bit her lip, sighing, “It’s not that there are no quick martial shortcuts, but none are suitable for this honest youth. Yet, I would never trust a clever prodigy.”
Xu Pu nodded in agreement, “Indeed, it’s hard to find a person who fulfills all our hopes, and hard to find a situation that meets all our expectations.”
Hong Shu glanced at the sky, and Xu Pu gently rose to leave the courtyard.
Smiling, Hong Shu asked, “Uncle Xu, I still have a few jars of Green Ant Wine. Why don’t you take one home for a drink?”
Xu Pu looked at the tightly closed door, his eyes filled with warmth, then laughed heartily, “The knot is undone. No need for wine.”
After watching Xu Pu leave, Hong Shu turned and walked toward the house, opening the door and quickly closing it behind her.
All the tables, chairs, and benches inside were wrapped in cloth, and in the corner stood a delicate cradle, seemingly meant for a child’s sleep.
Tiptoeing toward the cradle, her smile was warmer than it had ever been.
She crouched beside the cradle, gently calling out, “My little Sweet Potato, grow up quickly, and give your father a big surprise.”
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