As the Northern Wei army advanced southward, the city of Liuxia, located at the border of Long Yao Prefecture, became an exceptionally notable town. After the sudden and unexplained death of the previous city governor, Tao Qianzhi, the newly appointed governor naturally saw his status within the Southern Court rise accordingly. However, upon hastily receiving certain news, he was still greatly frightened, hastily taking a few personal guards and desperately riding out of the city. Yet at a junction between a main road and a narrow path, he was rudely stopped. The governor bore no complaints, merely returning home in disappointment. On the return trip, with no urgency, he occasionally glanced back at the solemn-looking riders. He chuckled—it was none other than the Northern Wei’s self-proclaimed unrivaled scouts, the Ravens of Lanzi! It was said that training a single Raven of Lanzi cost as much as maintaining two elite heavy cavalry units from the Northern Wei royal household. Only that fatso could afford such an expense.
Since his promotion, Duan Zhuo still wore armor when leaving the palace, even when attending court to pay homage to the Empress. He had never worn the prestigious official robes of the Southern Court’s Grand Minister. Yet this time, on a covert inspection tour without alerting the border troops, he changed into these robes symbolizing a rank second only to the Emperor himself. Holding the hand of Tao Qianzhi’s daughter, Tao Manwu, he approached two graves—one old and one new. The old grave had been there for many years. Though the person buried within had no family or kin, the grave was never overgrown with weeds. The reason was simple: the person in the new grave had ensured that weeds were regularly removed while alive. After stepping down from his position as General of the Vanguard to become the governor of Liuxia City, he visited the grave frequently. Unfortunately, he had now become a neighbor to the old man, and though he wished to continue tending the grave, he was powerless to do so. Duan Zhuo squatted down, placing a jar of wine at his feet. He silently pulled out the yellowed weeds from the old grave, muttering, “Old Sergeant Wu, don’t blame little Fat Dong, okay? I once swore that until I became a first-rank official, I wouldn’t dare come here to offer wine at your grave. Today, little Fat Dong has finally made it big! You must be proud of me, right? Why don’t you crack a smile? What? Don’t tell me you finally realized how creepy your yellow teeth look?”
Duan Zhuo, a general renowned for his battlefield exploits, whether chasing enemies or fleeing, was always fast—so fast that even without a horse, his two legs could outpace four-legged beasts. Yet now, as he struggled to pull out the withered grass that even a child could easily manage, he seemed especially strained.
This general, who liked to call the Empress “sister” and enjoyed pasting couplets on others’ gates, now wept openly, roughly wiping his face with his hand, mixing tears and snot. “There’s a saying in the Central Plains called ‘returning home in glory.’ Old Sergeant Wu, tell me honestly—am I not dressed gloriously enough today? What am I wearing? It’s the same rank as the robe worn by the Northern Court Grand Minister Xu Huainan back then! Old Sergeant, can you believe it? The little fatty you used to scold as a coward, the one who would tremble at the sight of a small unit of Beiliang cavalry—guess who’s become the highest-ranking officer among all your former soldiers?”
Without turning his head, Duan Zhuo pointed at the new grave. “Take a look at Tao Qianzhi, that bastard—he’s even worse than you. He didn’t even die on the battlefield; he just dropped dead. What the hell is that if not desertion? Old Sergeant, can you even sleep soundly next to someone like him? I, Duan Zhuo, sure as hell don’t believe it.”
Suddenly turning his head, Duan Zhuo roared at the new grave, “Tao Qianzhi, I’m talking about you! After Old Sergeant Wu passed away, you were the first among the brothers to become a squad leader, the first to rise to the rank of officer, the first to become a general. Big deal? Pfft! You never rose beyond the rank of General of the Vanguard, just a lowly city governor of this pitiful little place called Liuxia! ‘Governor’—my foot!”
Duan Zhuo gave a bitter smile. “I know—you thought it was embarrassing to be seen with me, Fat Duan, so you refused to join my army. Others cling to their pride and suffer for it. Look at you—dead already? If you’ve got the guts, crawl out of there and I’ll kick you back in!”
Perhaps fearing he might scare the little girl kneeling before the new grave, Duan Zhuo composed himself, uncorked the jar of wine, and took out three cups from his robe. He placed one on the old Sergeant Wu’s grave, smiled, and said to Tao Manwu, “Little Manwu, give this cup to your dad. With his drinking habit, he’s probably been craving it after lying here for so long.”
The little girl took the cup with both hands, and after Duan Uncle poured her a full cup, she gently poured it onto her father’s grave.
Duan Zhuo poured a cup of wine onto the old grave, then drank one himself in one gulp. After pouring another, he downed it in one go again. When he saw Little Manwu offering him another cup with both hands, Duan Zhuo smiled and said, “Uncle won’t drink with your dad anymore. Let him lie there and watch helplessly.”
The little girl’s eyes brimmed with tears, but she stubbornly held them back, looking both pitiful and heartbroken.
In a hurry, Duan Zhuo poured her another cup. Watching the child solemnly pour it onto the grave, Duan Zhuo’s eyes grew moist again. Tilting his head, he looked at the new grave and whispered, “Don’t worry. Little Manwu is more precious to me than my own daughter. As long as I conquer Beiliang and survive, I’ll make sure she gets half of the Central Plains as her dowry, if not the whole.”
Turning to the old grave, Duan Zhuo said, “Old Sergeant Wu, you must be thinking I’m just bragging again, right? But this time, don’t underestimate me. These days, even if I fart in court, a bunch of people will say it smells sweet. Hong Jingyan, Murong Baoding—those arrogant bastards—have to work under me. Isn’t the Beiliang cavalry supposed to be the strongest in the world? Old Sergeant, dare you say how many tens of thousands should die this winter? If even one less dies, I’ll dig a hole right next to you and bury myself to become your neighbor! If you can’t speak up, just send me a dream.”
Tao Manwu asked Duan Uncle for another cup of wine. After solemnly pouring the third cup onto the grave, she placed the cup down and knelt silently before it.
Duan Zhuo didn’t ask her to rise or offer comfort. He sat on the ground and poured the remaining wine into the soil, softly saying, “Back then, Old Sergeant Wu led just a few of us soldiers. Now, I, Duan Zhuo, command an army of a hundred thousand! I have the finest Ravens of Lanzi in the Northern Wei, the finest infantry! The thirty thousand border troops stationed in the twenty-some military towns of the southernmost provinces of Gusai and Long Yao are under my command. Hong Jingyan’s Rouran cavalry, and the private armies of generals like Liu Gui and Yang Yuanzan, totaling over ten thousand, are also under my command. Further north, half the military tokens from the two Circuit Commissioners, controlling two hundred thousand troops, have been handed to me without protest. Once the Emperor clears the northern grasslands, except for Toba Pusa, anyone crossing into the Southern Court’s border will answer to me! Beiliang is such a small place. With so many troops and horses, a single piss from them will flood Beiliang. Before spring, we’ll launch a major campaign, and by next autumn’s hunt, Beiliang will be finished for good.”
Duan Zhuo grinned sinisterly. “Beiliang must still think this will drag on for three to five years. But I, Fat Duan, who’ve played the fox for over a decade, will finally play the wolf. I won’t stop until I’ve devoured all the meat!”
Duan Zhuo grabbed a handful of soil, then tossed it away. Standing up, he said, “Old Sergeant Wu, Old Tao, I’ll take this empty wine jar with me. One day, when I lead my troops all the way to the Southern Frontier of Liyang, I’ll bring back a jar of soil from there for you two country bumpkins who never even made it to Beiliang. Let you see what kind of fertile land can grow rice.”
After standing up, Duan Zhuo looked at the still-kneeling Little Manwu, bent down, and gently patted her head. Softly, he said, “It’s time for us to go.”
The little girl stood up and silently wiped her tears with her sleeve.
Duan Zhuo thought for a moment, looked at the luxurious robe he was wearing, took it off, folded it neatly, and placed it between the two graves. Calmly, he said, “Returning home in glory, yet no one is watching. Then why bother wearing it?”
Duan Zhuo lifted Little Manwu onto his shoulders and strode away, laughing, “Little Manwu, didn’t Uncle give you a little foal? Soon, you’ll ride it alongside our million troops, crossing the frozen rivers into the Central Plains.”
Iron horses and icy rivers march into the Central Plains.
※※※
When the news spread through the capital.
The city of Tai’an did not erupt in uproar; instead, an eerie silence fell over the entire city.
Though it was difficult to live in the capital, Jin Lanting, the Right Sacrificial Official of the Imperial Academy, rose swiftly in rank within just a few years. He compiled a list of ten grave crimes and impeached none other than Zhang Julu, the chief architect of the entire Xiangfu Spring of the Liyang Dynasty.
Most of the capital’s residents thought this outsider had truly lost his mind. Challenging Chancellor Zhang—wasn’t that simply dashing oneself against a rock? For over a decade, those who wished to see the Chancellor fall had come in waves, occasionally making a fuss. But the Chancellor rarely even deigned to glance at them. These overconfident figures were all formidable aristocrats with deep roots. Yet none succeeded. After all, their ambitions were modest—they merely wished for the Chancellor to resign. None dared to dream of sending the most powerful official in the Liyang court to meet the late Emperor.
Among the ten crimes, the most convincing was the one accusing him of driving the Han family of Jizhou, a family of loyal patriots guarding the nation’s borders, to their deaths. This was indeed a secret imperial matter passed down between father-in-law and son-in-law, both serving as Chancellors. Jin Lanting’s phrase “light after light, fire after fire” to describe Zhang Julu’s political reforms was particularly apt.
More intriguing was the accusation of colluding with the powerful eunuch Han Shengxuan, causing chaos between the inner and outer courts. Now that Han Shengxuan, the “Cat of Men,” was dead, how could the Chancellor defend himself?
But the most damaging accusation was also the most baffling.
It was not the secret raising of border troops from the two Liaos, but the final charge among the ten: for over a decade, he had opened the granary transport and salt-iron monopolies, channeling resources to the northwest!
As the news settled, seemingly vanishing into silence, more and more people began to grasp its deeper implications.
Though the Chancellor still attended court daily, and was always present at the Secretariat during his night duties, handling state affairs with the same efficiency as ever.
It was not strange that the Chancellor’s residence became deserted—after all, the Chancellor had always disliked private visits. But when the grand mansions of officials living on the same street also began to see fewer visitors, it sparked endless speculation.
More importantly, this time Zhang Julu did not retaliate with the same thunderous force he had used against the Zhao aristocrats before. He showed no reaction whatsoever to Jin Sanlang, the Right Sacrificial Official of the Imperial Academy, who had turned on him like a mad dog.
At the same time, an important event could not be overlooked: Yin Maochun, known as the “Hidden Chancellor” and fully responsible for the annual local official evaluations this year, quietly returned to the capital ahead of schedule.
The Emperor, accompanied by the Crown Prince, personally visited the residence of Qi Yanglong.
Huan Wen claimed illness and did not attend any court sessions, large or small.
Then came a winter thunderclap over Tai’an.
General Yang Shenxing, who had been humiliated and defeated by the Western Chu rebels, secretly submitted a memorial to Tai’an, confirming that Chancellor Zhang Julu had indeed schemed to frame the Han family years ago.
On the first day of winter, in the early morning mist, the Emperor led the city’s officials in a ceremony to welcome winter at the northern outskirts.
Among the nobles, aside from Huan Wen, the head of the Gate Office, who still did not appear, every official in the capital, civil and military, was present without exception.
Thus, there was no morning court session on the first day of winter, but after welcoming winter, there would be a grand court session where the Emperor would bestow warm robes upon the officials, symbolizing his care for his ministers during the cold season.
On this day, the old man known as the Unswerving Elder, who had risen early before dawn and sat alone in his study, gazed blankly at the sky outside the window for a long time.
As the sky gradually brightened, the old man went to the bookshelf and pulled out a handwritten manuscript gifted by his late teacher. Grinding ink himself, he trembled as he wrote a line on the front page of the manuscript, intending to have his steward deliver it to the Chancellor’s residence.
“As winter comes and the cold deepens, old friend, please keep warm.”
After finishing, the old man fell into another daze.
Then, an elderly steward from the household burst into the study, pale-faced and staggering, his voice filled with grief as if the sky had fallen.
“Master, the Chancellor declared in court today that the Xu family, over two generations, has loyally guarded the northwest for over twenty years. Xu Fengnian has inherited his father’s legacy, and his loyalty is beyond question. He should be granted the title of Grand Pillar of the State! What are we to do?! Why would the Chancellor act like this? Worse still, the Emperor did not even show anger. Though he did not grant the title of Grand Pillar, after rejecting the decree, he once again bestowed upon the new Prince of Liang the lesser title of Upper Pillar of the State…”
Huan Wen silently waved his hand, signaling the steward to leave.
The study returned to silence.
Huan Wen gently closed the treasured manuscript he had been reading, murmuring, “Old friend, I can only burn this for you now.”
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