Under the escort of eight hundred White Horse Righteous Retinues, Xu Fengnian did not head straight to Tiger Head City as originally planned to oversee operations from the Huaiyang Pass Protectorate. Instead, he was summoned further south to a place with scenery rarely found in the Northern Liang region—lush mountains and clear waters, abundant rivers, and steep terrain. Such a strategic location naturally caught the attention of military strategists. It was here that Northern Liang intended to construct a city even more magnificent than Tiger Head City. Massive timbers harvested from the deep mountains of Western Shu and Southern Zhao, stored in Northern Liang for years, along with countless boulders hollowed from the peaks of Dayu Grotto-Heaven, were transported continuously along the broad post roads. Under the decisive orders of the young Prince-Regent, with the Qingliang Mountain Palace as the central hub and the three provincial governors’ mansions and local garrisons as the main forces, almost the entire Northern Liang region—excluding Liuzhou—was mobilized for this new city. Like the surging qi within a martial master, the entire mechanism began to operate at full speed.
Xu Fengnian personally assumed the temporarily established role of Chief Architect for the new city, with Governor Li Gongde and a Mohist Grandmaster serving as overseers. Among the four provincial governors, Wang Peifang, the Governor of Liangzhou, who held a half-rank higher, and Wang Linquan, the former “God of Wealth” of Qingzhou, were among the six appointed as deputy supervisors responsible for specific tasks. The entire garrison south of Liangzhou’s border and over a hundred thousand laborers under fifty from the three provinces were stationed here, breaking ground and working in full swing.
In today’s Northern Liang, the only person who could issue orders to Xu Fengnian was undoubtedly Xu Weixiong, who had just been enfeoffed by the Liyang court as Princess Fujing. In the twilight of the setting sun, Xu Fengnian, Xu Weixiong, and the powerful overseers and deputy supervisors strolled slowly by the riverbank. The Mohist Grandmaster, who had emerged from Qingliang Mountain alongside Liuzhou Governor Yang Guangdou, was temporarily unavailable, so Governor Li Gongde, another overseer, naturally had to be present to brief the young Prince-Regent on the progress of the new city’s construction.
Over the past few years, Li Gongde had tasted the full spectrum of life’s flavors. First, he ascended to the prestigious position of Governor, becoming one of the foremost frontier officials in the Liyang Dynasty. But before he could even warm his seat, he encountered the turbulent “changing of the guard” in Northern Liang. Sure enough, Xu Beizhi quietly stripped him of his concurrent title as Governor of Lingzhou. Soon after, Song Dongming assumed the irregular position of Deputy Governor, stationed at Qingliang Mountain—a move seen by Northern Liang’s officials as the new Prince-Regent’s attempt to balance power. Just as everyone assumed Li Gongde would soon be packing his bags, the young Prince-Regent promptly appointed him as overseer of the new city.
In the early spring of the second year of the Xiangfu era, the Governor’s mansion had been so deserted it could “catch sparrows,” a scene still fresh in the minds of Lingzhou’s officials. Now, many regretted not seizing the opportunity to curry favor with the “cold stove.” And Li Gongde, upon arriving here, seemed a changed man, roughing it alongside the Mohist Grandmaster, even causing the health-conscious Tian Peifang to endure considerable hardship.
Li Gongde, his throat parched from speaking, casually unhooked a water flask infused with various heat-clearing herbs from his waist and took a swig. He then sighed sincerely, “Your Highness, this humble official has spent most of his life in Northern Liang as a local governor, racking his brains to master the art of governance. Even when I boarded that carriage, I was merely secretly relieved that Your Highness hadn’t forgotten Li Gongde. At the time, lifting the curtain and seeing the iron cavalry escorts sent by the palace, along with the sycophantic faces outside, filled me with immense satisfaction—like slapping them all in the face myself. Truly exhilarating!”
Though Tian Peifang held the lofty position of Governor of Liangzhou, he still lacked the privilege to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with Xu Fengnian and Li Gongde. He trailed a few steps behind, listening intently as Governor Li spoke without lowering his voice. After digesting the words, Tian Peifang couldn’t help but admire the old fox’s mastery of political maneuvering. Governor Li’s ability to seize every opportunity was truly peerless, and this candid, self-deprecating confession was a masterclass in securing and maintaining favor. Tian Peifang felt he had gained immensely, as if “one conversation with a wise man was worth ten years of study.”
Li Gongde turned his gaze northward toward the new city’s site and chuckled softly, “Back then, I reluctantly agreed to let Hanlin enlist in the border army. At first, I just wanted my precious son to idle his time away in the frontier forces, relying on his father’s connections to secure a captain’s rank at best. Then he could return home in glory to a place where his father still held sway, ensuring a smooth rise to prominence. Whether he became a general or a governor, it was better than risking his life on the battlefield. So when I heard the brat had secretly become a White Horse Scout, I was scared out of my wits! And when I learned Li Hanlin had followed the Dragon-Elephant Army into Gusai Province as a vanguard scout, his old man spent every day burning incense and praying to the gods! When Hanlin finally returned home alive and well, bringing along those young men he considered sworn brothers, I wanted to scold him—but I couldn’t bring myself to! How could a money-grubbing, life-fearing wretch like me have raised such a son?!”
At this point, Li Gongde’s face brimmed with pride as he laughed heartily, “How did I manage to raise a son who puts his old man to shame?!”
After a pause, the overworked Li Gongde, his lips covered in blisters, continued, “So when that spendthrift brat suddenly offered to treat me to the finest wine in Lingzhou with the silver he’d earned by beheading Northern Barbarians, I was happier than if I’d become the Governor of Northern Liang—my lifelong dream!”
Xu Fengnian said softly, “Hanlin has already been promoted from Scout Captain to Captain based on merit. When I first urged him to enlist, like you, Uncle Li, I only wanted him to clear his mind at the border, sparing him from idleness and trouble in Lingzhou—which would have put you, the newly appointed Governor, in a tough spot. I never expected Hanlin to transform so completely, becoming one of Northern Liang’s elite warriors through his own efforts.”
Li Gongde suddenly lowered his voice, hoarse with emotion, “To be honest, if I could turn back time, I still wouldn’t want Hanlin to join the army. After all, he’s my only son. If he’s gone, he’s gone—who will take care of me in my old age? Who will send me off when I die? Even if Li Hanlin remained a good-for-nothing wastrel his whole life, as a father, I’d rather he live safely and soundly than achieve greatness. But there’s no medicine for regret in this world. Since Hanlin has chosen this path, no matter how much it terrifies me, I can only do my best and leave the rest to fate.”
Breaking protocol, Li Gongde stopped first and turned to gaze at the city site, murmuring, “Northern Liang will raise a towering city from this flatland, a fortress dominating the frontier! I, Li Gongde, won’t claim to be laboring for Northern Liang’s border army. I’m merely seizing this chance to personally ensure my son fighting on the frontlines has one more pillar to lean on.”
A father’s love is like a mountain—unyielding and eternal, from birth to death.
Li Gongde, slightly embarrassed by his emotional outburst, chuckled self-deprecatingly, “Your Highness, this humble official will take my leave now to attend to duties. Otherwise, that ill-tempered Mohist Grandmaster will drench me in spit.”
Xu Fengnian smiled and nodded. After the highest-ranking Governor departed, Wang Linquan, Tian Peifang, and the other deputy supervisors naturally stepped forward to fill the gap. Wang Linquan, in particular, held a special status—not only had he been Xu Xiao’s vanguard in his youth, but his daughter Wang Chudong was also a confirmed future consort of Northern Liang’s heir. Only due to the old Prince’s sudden passing had this joyous event been delayed at Qingliang Mountain.
In Northern Liang today, the two in-laws of the Northern Liang Palace—the aristocratic Lu family from Qingzhou and the merchant Wang family—should have seen the Lu descendants rise higher. Yet, as time passed, the outcome defied expectations. The “stinking rich” Wang family had surged ahead, while the Lu family seemed ill-adapted, with few young members holding real power in Northern Liang. The current family head, Lu Dongjiang, a calligrapher unparalleled south of the Yangtze, was deeply frustrated. Rumor had it that after several upheavals, this “Lu the Masterstroke” had even developed irreconcilable differences with his daughter Lu Chengyan.
Northern Liang’s officials were divided on the matter. Initially, bets were evenly split between the Wang and Lu families, but after Wang Linquan was appointed deputy supervisor of the new city while Lu Dongjiang was excluded, the scales tipped decisively. Perhaps to spare the Lu family too much embarrassment, Qingliang Mountain arranged for one of Lu Dongjiang’s nephews to become the Grain Superintendent for the new city’s construction—a position far more accessible than the lofty but temporary deputy supervisor role and one easily made permanent in Northern Liang.
At this moment, this Lu descendant trailed about twenty paces behind, dressed in bright, luxurious robes instead of his official attire, standing out conspicuously among the crowd. Accompanying him were several scholars of similar age.
Xu Fengnian recognized him at a glance—Lu Chengyan’s cousin, Lu Chengsong, the cream of the Lu family’s “Chengyan generation.” However, the young Prince-Regent found Lu Chengsong’s ostentatiousness somewhat exasperating. The simplest rule was to follow local customs when entering new territory. Standing out like a crane among chickens was tantamount to sticking out like a sore thumb. In the political arena, blending in was paramount; sharp edges were taboo, unlike the scholarly circles that prized lofty ideals and purity. No wonder the Lu family kept hitting soft walls in Northern Liang.
With an inward sigh, after conversing with his father-in-law Wang Linquan, Xu Fengnian deliberately turned and stopped, looking past three rows of officials at Lu Chengsong. The seasoned political foxes present quickly cleared a path. Noticing the young Prince-Regent’s attention, Lu Chengsong strode forward with dignified grace. After a few steps, he suddenly turned back, prompting a hesitant young scholar to step out of line and follow him.
This presumptuous move displeased all the officials, especially the less restrained ones who frowned openly. How dare a mere seventh-rank Grain Superintendent like Lu Chengsong, privileged only by his family name, bring along an outsider to an audience with the Prince-Regent?
Xu Fengnian ignored the breach of etiquette. After Lu Chengsong bowed, he asked amiably, “How is Uncle Lu’s health?”
Lu Chengsong straightened up and remained upright—a subtle gesture that further irked the nearby officials. Though Northern Liang, influenced by the late Great General’s informality, didn’t strictly enforce rules like “one cannot look up at the Son of Heaven or meet a feudal lord’s gaze,” Lu Chengsong’s Central Plains scholar’s innate arrogance was profoundly grating.
Unfazed, Lu Chengsong replied evenly, “My uncle is in good health. He writes over a dozen calligraphy pieces daily at home.”
Even Tian Peifang nearly rolled his eyes. Was this kid implying that “Lu the Masterstroke” was feigning leisure out of thwarted ambitions? Staring at the young face he’d seen at banquets, Tian Peifang fought the urge to curse. Others might not know, but as Governor of Liangzhou, he was well aware that the Prince-Regent had initially intended to appoint Lu Dongjiang as Liangzhou’s Deputy Governor. But the Lu family head, disdaining a subordinate role, had refused in displeasure. When the Prince-Regent then suggested he head the White Deer Academy—a peer of the Azure Deer Academy—Lu Dongjiang had again declined.
At the time, Tian Peifang had even felt guilty for occupying the “privy” of Liangzhou Governor and hosted a banquet to invite “Lu the Masterstroke.” Yet not a single Lu male of Lu Dongjiang’s generation showed up—only greenhorns like Lu Chengsong attended. In contrast, Wang Linquan, another royal in-law of equal status, was always amiable in every meeting.
“What’s so special about scholars?” Tian Peifang thought bitterly. “Even I, praised by Yao Baifeng, am a scholar! Are you Lu scholars from Qingzhou the only gold in the world? Are Northern Liang scholars worthless?”
In the Liyang court, the older generation boasted Yao Baifeng, head of the Imperial Academy, and Grand Secretary Yan Jiexi. Among the younger generation, even ignoring the turncoat Jin Lanting, there were still Chen Wang, now a central official, and the renowned Sun Yin.
Xu Fengnian said kindly, “Now that the court has established the precedent of appointing Deputy Governors for each province, Deputy Governor Song has been complaining about his overwhelming workload. Given Northern Liang’s unique circumstances, requesting one more legitimate Deputy Governor from the court shouldn’t be difficult.”
Catching the subtext, Lu Chengsong couldn’t hide his excitement. But his first reaction was a subtle glance at Wang Linquan, who stood expressionless beside Xu Fengnian.
Then Lu Chengsong introduced, “Your Highness, this is Zhang Huanzhi, a luminary of Jiangnan’s scholarly circles, master of the four arts—qin, chess, calligraphy, and painting—especially renowned for his landscapes that convey vast distances within inches. Had he taken the imperial exams, he would undoubtedly have ranked among the top three. Yet he forsook a brilliant future to come alone to Northern Liang.”
Compared to the effortlessly elegant Lu Chengsong, the young scholar Zhang Huanzhi was far more reserved, bowing deeply. “This humble commoner Zhang Huanzhi pays respects to Your Highness, trembling with awe.”
Tian Peifang carefully observed the subtle shifts in the prince’s expression. The moment the slightest hint of displeasure appeared, he could ensure that the young man named Zhang Huanzhi would be left out in the cold within the Northern Liang’s official circles.
Xu Fengnian had already sized up Zhang Huanzhi and, upon hearing his words, chuckled, “You’ve had it rough.”
Zhang Huanzhi froze for a moment before lowering his head and trembling, “I dare not. It was only after arriving in Northern Liang and seeing and hearing for myself that I realized how different it is from what I had imagined.”
Xu Fengnian dismissed it with a laugh and turned to continue walking. Before long, he sent Tian Peifang, Wang Linquan, and the others back to their duties, strolling alone with Xu Weixiong by the riverbank. Not far away, the White Horse Retinue stood guard.
Xu Fengnian asked softly, “Did Xuanyuan Qingfeng reach out to the Fushui Bureau on her own?”
Xu Weixiong nodded. “The initial contact came from Snowy Summit through the Fish-Dragon Gang’s Liu Nirong. Both the Wutong Courtyard and the Fushui Bureau were caught off guard, so we planted many spies with martial identities among those three groups. We also quietly relocated the Fushui Bureau’s out-of-town assassins back to Northern Liang—they were tasked with guiding public opinion.”
Xu Fengnian grinned. “No wonder Xuanyuan Qingfeng challenged me to a fight and demanded I lose to her. Had I known this was the case, I would’ve agreed. That’s no small favor.”
Xu Weixiong asked, “After meeting with the Master and his entourage, what do you think?”
Xu Fengnian shook his head. “The old Master still holds the title of Chancellor of the Shangyin Academy. Every move he makes is scrutinized. Just coming to Northern Liang has already crossed the Zhao court’s bottom line. I suspect Qi Yanglong will soon take countermeasures in the capital, spreading word that once Master Han returns from his travels, he’ll assume the position of Grand Chancellor.”
Xu Weixiong turned her wheelchair to face the river and sighed softly. “When the Master deliberately avoided entering Liangzhou City, I knew he had made up his mind. Had he entered, we would’ve been disappointed—it would’ve meant he truly had no desires, intending to return to the academy with all his disciples. By avoiding suspicion for the Zhao court, it means at least one disciple will secretly remain in Northern Liang.”
Xu Fengnian brightened. “Xu Huang or Sima Can—either one staying would be excellent.”
Xu Weixiong seemed lost in memories of her years studying at the Shangyin Academy.
Xu Fengnian said gently, “Don’t worry. The old Master is still in good health—he rode ten miles on horseback.”
Xu Weixiong glared. “And you didn’t stop him?!”
Xu Fengnian rolled his eyes. “At the time, the old Master played the seniority card and insisted I escort them twenty miles. I was in a hurry to reach Huaiyang Pass, and with Xu Huang and the others already trying to stop him, I kept quiet.”
He smirked. “In the end, the Master only let me escort him ten miles, saying my gesture was enough. But honestly? I think he just couldn’t take it anymore.”
Xu Weixiong’s lips curled slightly.
Xu Fengnian crouched beside the wheelchair, rubbing his temples. “Why can’t the Lu family see reason? Did all the family’s intelligence get concentrated in Old Venerable Lu Feichi and Lu Chengyan? Wang Linquan isn’t easy to deal with either. Though he’s stayed on the sidelines, at least he hasn’t kicked the Lu family while they’re down. But since they’re barely considered family now, if Wang Linquan could take a step back, Qingliang Mountain would be much more peaceful.”
Xu Weixiong asked calmly, “So you deliberately proposed making Lu Dongjiang the token Deputy Chief Administrator to warn Wang Linquan?”
Xu Fengnian sighed bitterly. “More like a nudge. But if I continue ignoring the Lu family, this once-proud clan—who moved their entire lineage to Northern Liang under Old Venerable Lu’s leadership—will be devoured by local officials within three or four years. At a time like this, even my Wutong Courtyard is secretly selling calligraphy and antiques to trade for salt and iron from outside. Yet the Lu family? They’ve spent the gold and silver Old Venerable Lu painstakingly saved on over thirty pieces of calligraphy. Since they’ve rooted themselves in Northern Liang with no choice, why not follow Wang Linquan’s example and buy land at discounted prices from families leaving Northern Liang? Is this really the time for pretentious refinement? They’re all patting themselves on the back, thinking they’ve scored the deal of the century…”
Xu Weixiong suddenly gloated. “Actually, you underestimate Wang Linquan’s methods. Since spring, the God of Wealth has quietly bought several priceless artworks at low prices, likely intending to humble himself and gift them to the Lu family. But now that you’ve casually tossed out a Deputy Chief Administrator position, Wang Linquan can’t give them anymore. Otherwise, not only would the Lu family not appreciate it, but Lu Dongjiang and the younger generation like Lu Chengsong would look down on him even more.”
Xu Fengnian groaned. “Sis, why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
Xu Weixiong smiled sweetly. “My fault, then.”
Xu Fengnian immediately raised his hands. “No, I acted rashly.”
Xu Weixiong sneered. “Rashly? The Prince of Northern Liang, acting rashly? Is that why you fought the world’s second-ranked Tuoba Pusa all the way from northern Xiyu to Snow Lotus City, turning heaven and earth upside down in a spectacular battle? Truly awe-inspiring. I was even thinking of commissioning a plaque that reads ‘Number One Under Heaven’ to hang at Qingliang Mountain’s gate. If that’s too vulgar, how about ‘Peerless in the World’? More imposing, don’t you think?”
Knowing his second sister’s temper, Xu Fengnian didn’t dare fan the flames. With a pained expression, he plucked a blade of grass, dusted it off, and stuck it in his mouth.
Suddenly, he mused, “Running such a vast Northern Liang—every little thing—it’s no wonder they say even a dog would grow weary after three years…”
Xu Weixiong smacked his head hard. “Who’s the dog?!”
Xu Fengnian sighed. “I was about to add that now I understand how hard it was for our father.”
Xu Weixiong looked up at the sky and murmured, “Yes.”
Xu Fengnian, who had been crouching, plopped down fully and slowly chewed on the grass.
Xu Weixiong inexplicably recalled a little tune that never spread far.
Back then, when she and his sister were married off to Jiangnan…
That day, a youth sat in the Wutong Courtyard, tapping his wine bowl with chopsticks.
*I send you off a thousand miles, till steep peaks turn to plains.*
*At parting, I drink six taels and three of wine.*
*One, may your Jiangnan rains find you with oiled umbrella in hand.*
*Two, may your summer heat be cooled by a gentle fan.*
*Three, may winter never catch you without added layers.*
*Four, may your reunions be many, partings few.*
*Five, may your heart stay light, free of sorrow and pain.*
*Six, may your days be bright, untouched by wind or rain.*
*Six taels three.*
*The remaining three?*
*Here in the northwest, I pass checkpoint by checkpoint.*
*From you, I’m parted by mountain after mountain.*
*In the end, all I ask is to know—you’re safe and sound.*
Xu Weixiong exhaled deeply before turning to him with a gentle voice. “Don’t do anything reckless again. It worries Father and Mother… and your sister.”
Xu Fengnian hummed in agreement, then spat out the grass and gazed into the distance. “Tuoba Pusa has gone to Liuzhou. Huang Man’er is there—I just can’t rest easy.”
Xu Weixiong lowered her head, her expression hidden as the breeze stirred her hair.
Xu Fengnian stood with a smile. “Sis, I’m off to Huaiyang Pass. While Tuoba Pusa isn’t at the border, I’ll head to Tiger Head City myself. Don’t worry—this time, I won’t act impulsively. If things look bad, I’ll retreat immediately.”
Xu Weixiong looked up abruptly. “Call me Second Sister!”
Xu Fengnian scratched his head. “Same difference.”
Xu Weixiong waved him off. “Go. When you reach Tiger Head City, twist off a few hundred—no, a thousand—Northern Mang heads for me!”
Xu Fengnian laughed heartily. “You said it yourself!”
—
Three days later, at dusk, as a lone figure appeared atop Tiger Head City’s walls, the Northern Mang army—having besieged the city for over a month—suddenly sounded retreat, ceasing their assault for the first time.
From afar, the entire Northern Mang army shuddered at the sight of that man.
At dawn the next day, as fierce winds howled, the Northern Court’s Great King Dong Zhuo, surrounded by a dense formation of armored cavalry, dared only to advance a hundred paces beyond the ranks. Gazing at Tiger Head City’s walls, he raised his arm high—then swung it down with crushing force.
Thus began the bloodiest battle of the second year of the Xiangfu era.
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