On the mountain path leaving the thatched hut and heading toward the Xiao Lianhua Peak, Xu Fengnian and Lu Chengyan encountered the Yan family once again, an unexpected reunion that Yan Song, the elder patriarch, found strangely fated. With such serendipity, the old man relaxed his usual caution regarding deep conversations with relative strangers. Yan Song, who had served during the final days of the Great Chu before its fall to the Liyang dynasty, had long navigated the treacherous waters of court politics, having personally witnessed four emperors across both dynasties. Even the newly enthroned Liyang emperor, Zhao Zhuan, was no stranger to him, though back then Zhao was merely a quiet, unremarkable fourth prince, dutifully showing respect to the elderly scholar whenever he visited the study halls.
Yan Song, a man of sharp insight, naturally recognized Xu Fengnian as no ordinary pilgrim from Beiliang. This suspicion was further confirmed when Li Yufu, the current abbot of Wudang, extended his hospitality. Yet both parties understood each other’s positions without needing to speak openly. As for which prominent Beiliang general’s son Xu Fengnian might be, Yan Song, having long since left the Liyang court behind, had no reason to dwell on such matters.
As they climbed the mountain, their conversation drifted toward Zhang Julu, the late Chief Minister with piercing eyes. Yan Song, though from an opposing faction, expressed regret over Zhang’s fate. “Zhang Julu was but half a step away from sainthood,” he mused. “He succeeded in benefiting all under heaven, but failed to preserve himself.”
Yan Song sighed deeply. “There are five kinds of people—princes, imperial in-laws, eunuchs, generals, and officials. If they lack integrity, they can bring chaos to the realm. Our current empress is virtuous, and her family has never posed a threat, a great blessing for the empire. The eunuchs, led successively by Han Shengxuan and Song Tanglu, may not be paragons of virtue, but they are loyal to the Zhao emperor and cautious with power. Our dynasty’s eunuchs have remained in their place, so we need not fear their interference.
“With Zhang Julu’s assistance, the late emperor skillfully curbed the power of the princes and restrained the military. Of the great feudal lords from the previous generation, Jiaodong King Zhao Sui has lost his vigor, Huainan King Zhao Ying died in battle, Jing’an’s new king Zhao Xun serves the nation faithfully, and Guangling King Zhao Yi lacks ambition. Beiliang, bound by the northern threat from Beiman, is likewise unable to act even if it wished to. That leaves only Yanchi King Zhao Bing, a cunning and underestimated general with a strong army. With no immediate threats in the southern frontiers, he can bide his time. He will be the dynasty’s greatest internal threat.”
Then Yan Song chuckled bitterly. “As for us officials, well, a scholar plotting rebellion won’t succeed in ten years. Emperors find us easy to placate—bestowing titles like Taifu and posthumous names like Wenzheng has always been the highest aspiration of literati. Even if one doesn’t attain Taifu, there are still countless second- and third-rank officials to serve as rewards. And as for posthumous names, there are plenty to choose from. At worst, if one fails in office, one can still leave behind writings and earn a place in history. So I say, we officials are the most ambitious, yet also the least accomplished. However!”
Yan Song paused, his expression turning solemn. “After Zhang Julu set an example for scholars across the realm for twenty years, everything changed!”
Xu Fengnian smiled. “That rising young official Jin Sanlang once spoke a rare truth—‘The people are most precious; the ruler is secondary.’ That was Zhang Julu’s teaching. And it was Jin Lanting’s very words, submitted to the new emperor as a declaration of loyalty, that convinced the late emperor to order the Chief Minister’s execution.”
Yan Song spat angrily, “That little bastard! No son, no minister! Old Tan struck him well!”
Xu Fengnian laughed it off, but Lu Chengyan, sensing his mood, noticed the faintest flicker of killing intent in his eyes.
Yan Song sighed. “The ministers and nobles of the Yonghui Spring were all exemplary in their cultivation, governance, and moral integrity. But after years of Zhang Julu’s influence, once the Chief Minister’s vision and boldness were gone, their virtues turned into excess. In times of peace, disputes among gentlemen often devolve into petty rivalries, and even the emperor can do nothing to stop it. I had many students, a few of them truly outstanding. I taught without discrimination, as the sages instructed. For the first ten or twenty years, it was hard to tell the difference, but as I approached retirement, their paths diverged greatly. Whether from noble or humble backgrounds, they were capable and effective administrators. Yet, aside from a few who remained upright to the end, most fell into corruption. Those of noble birth at least masked it better, while those who suddenly gained power were far worse. I puzzled over this for a long time, until one of my poor, incorruptible students revealed the truth: they feared poverty, had been poor for too long. Even if they didn’t think of themselves, they thought of their descendants.”
Xu Fengnian smiled. “That’s only human nature.”
Yan Song shook his head. “Providing for one’s descendants is natural, but ensuring ten generations live in luxury—that’s going too far.”
Yan Song took a deep breath, forcing a smile. “Perhaps this is just my narrow view.”
He continued bitterly, “Two years ago, a student I once hoped would become a high-ranking minister nearly reached fifty before being exposed. He knelt outside my study for hours. I wanted him to die, but every time I thought of his youthful face, those clear eyes when he debated with me, I couldn’t bring myself to be cruel. I merely stripped him of his post. I’ve heard that with the new emperor’s ascension, he’s already scheming for a comeback in the capital. The very people he once condemned as corrupt aristocrats are now his benefactors. Sigh, I remember trying to counsel him back then.”
Xu Fengnian asked, “Did he succeed?”
Yan Song replied bitterly, “With plenty of silver to grease the wheels and his status as the former Chief Minister’s rival’s student, of course he did. He’s now a Langzhong in the Ministry of Rites. He even had the gall to write me, saying he’d inherit my legacy and become the next Minister.”
Xu Fengnian chuckled. “That guy’s got some nerve! He’d fit right in Beiliang.”
The old man asked curiously, “Why?”
Xu Fengnian joked, “With a face thick enough to stop ten thousand Beiman soldiers.”
Yan Song burst into laughter, and the younger members of the Yan family followed suit.
The long path eventually ended. At noon, they reached the summit of Xiao Lianhua Peak, gazing into the distance with a sense of peace and exhilaration.
Yan Song, standing beside Xu Fengnian, said sincerely, “To be honest, I came to Beiliang because someone invited me—also one of my former students. He said Beiliang was a place to clear one’s mind. I didn’t believe him, but he sent me eight letters, and I finally gave in. I thought, why not visit the northwestern frontier before I die? After a lifetime of writing delicate, refined poetry, maybe I could end with a couple of bold frontier ballads.”
His grandson protested, “Grandfather’s qingci poetry is exquisite! The late emperor praised it endlessly. Even the great Huang Longshi of the Spring and Autumn Annals admired it!”
The old man laughed. “Pfft, ‘admired’? Don’t flatter me. Huang Longshi only said, ‘Weak but passable.’”
Though he denied it, the old man’s eyes betrayed pride at the harsh critique.
Xu Fengnian smiled. “For Huang Sanjia to say even that much, it must have been impressive.”
The old man stroked his beard. “That’s the way to say it! Only an outsider like Xu Gongzi can say such things, and I can accept it. But when my own grandson flatters me, it’s meaningless.”
Lu Chengyan smiled knowingly. This old man was truly a delight.
After a pause, Lu Chengyan said hesitantly, “Respectfully, I disagree with the old master’s view that Beiliang lacks both the will and the means among the feudal lords.”
Yan Song turned. “Oh?”
Unexpectedly, Lu Chengyan asked, “I believe that as long as the General lives, the realm will not fall into chaos. Beiman will not dare to advance, Xichu will not rise, and the southern frontiers will remain dormant. What do you think?”
Yan Song remained silent for a long time.
Finally, he sighed softly, nodding. “Indeed. I stand corrected.”
Lu Chengyan hurriedly replied, “I dare not.”
The old man turned his gaze to Xu Fengnian. “If I recall correctly, you once declared in Taian City that you’d do something for the people of the Central Plains?”
Xu Fengnian asked, “How did you guess?”
Yan Song replied calmly, “A woman with such insight must be of noble birth, and with a Qingzhou accent. I once worked closely with Lu Feichi, the leader of the Qing faction. Thus, both your identities became clear.”
With a cold snort, the old man turned and walked away. Most of the Yan family members were puzzled by his sudden change in mood, but they followed him down the mountain, feeling that their pilgrimage to Wudang had ended in disappointment.
Lu Chengyan whispered, “I shouldn’t have said that.”
Xu Fengnian gently touched her cheek. “Don’t worry. Our Beiliang’s Chief Strategist has already decided to stay.”
Lu Chengyan smiled. “A national pillar who isn’t a cabinet minister but acts like one, defecting from the Central Plains to Beiliang—this isn’t good news for the Liyang court.”
Xu Fengnian nodded. “Yan Song has sealed the fate of the scholars heading to Beiliang.”
Lu Chengyan blinked. “Song Dongming is clever.”
Xu Fengnian tapped her forehead. “Not as clever as you.”
She smiled.
Xu Fengnian explained, “I didn’t just come here with you to burn incense and pray. This place is my lucky ground. More precisely, it’s my domain. When I fought Wang Xianzhi, without Wudang’s True Martial Array, I wouldn’t have had even a sliver of a chance. Since birth, my fortune and misfortune have been intertwined. My blessings were mine, but the misfortunes fell on my family. After I began cultivating martial arts, I’ve faced many near-death battles, but I always survived, and even after great injuries, I always recovered. At first, I was puzzled. But as I climbed higher in the martial path, I realized a truth: ‘The big shop bullies its customers.’ I’m like a guest in a restaurant—though I can enjoy rare delicacies, I still must eat whatever the heavens serve me. Huang Longshi once revealed a secret: I’ll soon be served a final meal—the death sentence—and then there will be no more. That’s likely the fate I was born into: guarding the northwest frontier, dying in battle, and leaving behind only ambiguous words in history. Then the page turns. What comes next depends on how the heavens write the next chapter.”
Xu Fengnian’s eyes burned with determination. “But since I took up the blade, I’ve never accepted fate. Back then, as a useless prince, I sought vengeance against masters like Yang Tai sui and Liu Haoshi. Later, on the mountaintop, I aimed to slay dragons and celestial beings. Now, I fight to protect Beiliang. I won’t eat the heavens’ deathly feast. So you see, the heavens don’t negotiate easily. Soon after, the Beiman launched their three-pronged assault—the worst possible scenario. Perhaps that’s what they call the cycle of heaven’s justice.”
Lu Chengyan gripped his hand tightly.
The cold wind blew, revealing Xu Fengnian’s forehead. He smiled. “Marrying me has brought you much hardship.”
Lu Chengyan stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder. “Hardship with joy, endless in Aftertaste—enough to last me many lifetimes.”
※※※
Li Yufu arrived at the summit with his disciple Yu Fu. There were a few thatched huts, clean and tidy, simple yet elegant. They saw Xu Fengnian standing by the cliff’s edge. Lu Chengyan, frail against the mountain winds, had gone inside to rest.
Li Yufu approached Xu Fengnian, but the young Taoist disciple refused to come closer than several zhang away.
Xu Fengnian asked softly, “Is he well-behaved?”
Li Yufu glanced at his apprentice and chuckled. “More trouble than I imagined. He’s stubborn and always asks to the bottom of things. The other day, I interpreted a bad omen for an old man who came to the mountain—his grandson would die at the border. My apprentice sulked for days.”
Xu Fengnian asked, “What did you tell the old man?”
Li Yufu replied, “I didn’t tell him the truth. I said it was a medium omen, half fortune, half misfortune, depending on fate.”
Xu Fengnian asked, “What did he object to?”
Li Yufu sighed. “He said I shouldn’t have lied at all, or else I should have gone all the way and ‘changed the omen’ for the old man’s grandson.”
Xu Fengnian thought for a moment but said nothing. Unlike Yu Fu, he understood the complexities involved. He mused, “Back then, when the old abbot Wang Chonglou had that little apprentice, he must have had his hands full.”
Li Yufu smiled without speaking.
Xu Fengnian whispered, “I’ve used up most of Wudang’s spiritual energy. I owe you an apology.”
Li Yufu, his Taoist robe fluttering in the wind, shook his head. “Since ancient times, mountains and rivers become spiritual only when people are present.”
Xu Fengnian asked, “Isn’t it said, ‘If there are immortals, then it is spiritual’?”
Li Yufu smiled. “Huang Longshi once said that there were immortals in the world, but none remain. The more people know of them, the more reverence they hold for chivalry. In time, the spirit of righteousness will become the backbone of the martial world and the realm. In my view, cultivating immortality is too hard, far away. Being human is easy, right here. When something is hard, people find excuses. But when something is easy and still not done, even making excuses becomes difficult.”
Xu Fengnian nodded. “I probably won’t climb this mountain again.”
Li Yufu said softly, “I’ll come down often.”
Xu Fengnian smiled. “Then that kid—when the time comes, don’t hold back. He owes me one from when he took my older sister without even saying hello.”
Li Yufu smiled but said nothing.
※※※
Xu Fengnian did not hurry down the mountain. He spent the night on the summit of Xiao Lianhua Peak. Lu Chengyan sat with him by the turtle-carved stele for a while before retiring to sleep.
The next morning, she awoke uncertain whether she had dreamed. She seemed to have seen a scene in her sleep, but she couldn’t be sure.
Opening her eyes, she saw Xu Fengnian sitting by her bedside, smiling warmly, but offering no explanation.
That night.
A father and son stood side by side.
The old man’s hands were tucked into his sleeves, his back slightly hunched.
He gazed toward the Beiliang lands.
The younger man, still youthful, smiled. “Dad, I finally understand. Without you, the world is like a mountain without tigers.”
The old man replied cryptically, “If you can’t bear it, don’t force it. I only told you half before—there’s no rule saying a son of heaven cannot die. The other half is this: but there’s also no rule saying a son of heaven must die.”
Xu Fengnian shook his head. “I’m not the Beiliang King to guard the nation for the Zhao emperor or protect the Central Plains. You once said, ‘Where your mother is, that’s my home.’ Later, wherever we children were, that became your home. For me, wherever my parents’ graves lie—that is my home! I fear death, but if the day comes, I won’t fear dying in Beiliang!”
The old man pointed into the distance, laughing heartily. “These vast lands, I, Xu Xiao, have ridden across the Nine Spring States! Xiao Nian, will you go to Beiman for me one last time?”
Xu Fengnian nodded. “Yes.”
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