The heavily fortified military town of Zhongzhong, situated behind Huaiyang Pass, differed from Liuya and Fuling in that it was predominantly garrisoned by infantry. Compared to the naturally impregnable Huaiyang Pass, Zhongzhong seemed somewhat lacking in confidence. In truth, along this defensive line, the commander of Zhongzhong had never been able to stand as tall as his three colleagues of equal rank, nor had he ever spoken with much authority. Liuya and Fuling had always stationed a considerable number of border cavalry, and their commanders had connections with the current deputy commanders of the cavalry. Zhongzhong, however, was the awkward middle child—nominally part of the Northern Liang cavalry but with more infantry, and without any ties to Gu Dazu’s faction, leaving it with no powerful backer. After Huaiyang Pass became the seat of the Protectorate, Zhongzhong, like an unloved stepchild, faded further into obscurity.
Xu Fengnian stayed in a newly cleaned and refurbished courtyard. Though small, it was elegant and quiet—a rare find in a military town now packed with the powerful elite of Liangzhou’s border. His choice of residence sent a subtle signal to Zhongzhong. The young Prince of Northern Liang did not summon Zhou Kang, the “Brocade Partridge” who had once escorted the young master to the capital alongside hundreds of old soldiers, nor did he summon Gu Dazu, whom he had personally recruited from the martial world of the Central Plains. He didn’t even call for Qi Dangguo, one of the three adopted sons of the late Grand General alongside Chu Lu Shan and Yuan Zuo Zong. Instead, he invited Ning E’mei, a veteran of the Fengzi Battalion, to share a drink in the courtyard.
The newly appointed deputy commander of the Iron Pagoda, Ning E’mei, remained the same rough-faced man with a surprisingly delicate voice. But compared to his carefree demeanor of years past, he now carried a trace of understandable restraint—after all, the young man sitting across from him was no longer the widely dismissed young master of Northern Liang.
Xu Fengnian clinked cups with Ning E’mei and sighed, “Back then, General Ning led a hundred men to accompany me on my reckless adventures in the martial world. Many of them, including Hong Shuwen, are no longer in the Fengzi Battalion—they’ve become captains or even majors in local garrisons. Yuan Meng is still around, though. A few days ago at Tianjing Pasture, he complained to me that he’d asked you about joining the Iron Pagoda, but not only did you refuse out of some misplaced sense of propriety, you even scolded him.”
Ning E’mei instinctively straightened his posture and replied in his refined, almost feminine voice, “The Fengzi Battalion has seen many new faces these past two years. Having an old hand like Captain Yuan around gives me peace of mind.”
Xu Fengnian chuckled. “Some of the young men who left the Fengzi Battalion as White Horse Retinue members still meet up occasionally. I hear they like to compare ranks—who’s made it to what position, who has the best prospects, who might become a border general or a regional governor someday, and whether they can help each other out. It’s a bit like the imperial examination candidates in the Liyang court, bonding over shared origins. Back in the day, our earliest border scouts went through the same phase. At first, when they reunited, they’d talk about who had died on the battlefield—and they’d say it with envy. But after a few years, or a decade, the conversations changed. They’d ask about the size of newly bought estates, the beauty of newly acquired concubines, or the acreage of prime farmland they’d gotten their hands on.”
Seeing Ning E’mei’s expression darken, Xu Fengnian waved a hand and smiled. “Don’t worry. These are just human tendencies, and the Fengzi Battalion’s situation is still the exception. Water too clear breeds no fish—I understand that. Besides, Xu Xiao once said something similar. In his eyes, the world we live in now is nothing like the one decades ago. Back then, everyone was just trying to survive, with their heads hanging by a thread—commoners by straw ropes, nobles by jade belts, but all equally precarious. Now, everyone’s thinking about how to live better. That’s why, since last year, so many families have fled beyond Northern Liang’s borders. If staying here means death, then they’ll run where there’s no war, where they can’t hear the hoofbeats of the Northern Mang. If Huainan isn’t safe, they’ll go to Jiangnan. If war comes to Jiangnan, they’ll cross the Guangling River. If all else fails, they’ll head to the Southern Frontier. As long as they have money, they can keep running south—they’ll survive.”
Xu Fengnian spun the delicate white porcelain wine cup in his fingers—a piece of craftsmanship that wouldn’t be out of place in the mansions of Jiangnan’s elite—and lifted it slightly. “I’m one of the few truly extravagant men in the world. I know this little cup would sell for two or three taels of silver in the wealthy regions of the Central Plains. By the time it’s laboriously transported to Northern Liang, the price quadruples. Of course, if we’re talking real treasures, nothing compares to the mountain of valuables in Qingliang Mountain. The scholars of the Central Plains say Northern Liang has ‘impoverished a million households to enrich one family.’ They’re not wrong. Just the counterfeit paintings stamped with my seal in the Wutong Courtyard number over three hundred. But compared to people like Zhong Hongwu, I, Xu Fengnian, have long been notorious as a wastrel—I’m nothing like those misers.”
He grinned. “When I was a kid, Xu Xiao would bring priceless calligraphy and antiques to the Wutong Courtyard. He had no idea what made them valuable, nor why a few strokes of ink could command such prices. Every time, he’d just tell me, ‘This thing’s worth a fortune,’ and then inevitably add, ‘It could buy so many first-class Northern Liang warhorses, so many Northern Liang sabers.’ Over the past few years, I’ve had Li Gongde, Xu Beizhi, and Song Dongming secretly sell off these treasures. Watching chest after chest leave Qingliang Mountain, General Ning, do you know what I was thinking?”
Ning E’mei shook his head earnestly.
Xu Fengnian smirked. “I just wanted to complain to Xu Xiao—‘You overpaid back then.’”
Ning E’mei couldn’t help but laugh.
Xu Fengnian’s smile faded. “To speak of recent matters—Bai Yu had barely arrived at Qingliang Mountain before he and Song Dongming were already at odds in all but appearance. How can I expect Zhou Kang and Gu Dazu to get along? One is one of the few old Northern Liang soldiers who ever looked at me with respect; the other is an outsider I went to great lengths to recruit. One’s in the cavalry, the other in the infantry. If I side with either in the council hall today, it’ll be wrong. Family matters, state affairs, the world’s troubles—take family matters, for instance. Wang Linquan, who’s become Northern Liang’s de facto treasurer, and Lu Dongjiang, who’s languished in obscurity—two fathers-in-law, two families, one rising, one falling. Logically, I should help the struggling Lu family, but can they even be helped? And in all this, Wang Linquan’s schemes against the Lu descendants—I just choose not to look too closely. One’s too cunning, the other too foolish. A perfect match.”
Ning E’mei sighed, at a loss for words. He didn’t dare speak, nor did he know what to say.
Xu Fengnian looked at him and teased, “Starting to think running a household isn’t easy?”
Ning E’mei, caught in his thoughts, nodded. Worried it might seem like flattery, he added solemnly, “This general truly believes so!”
Xu Fengnian said, “I’m just venting. Sitting here drinking with you is the easy part. What’s truly hard is what men like Liu Jinu endured—those whose names are carved into Qingliang Mountain’s stone tablets.”
He set down his cup. “But even harder is what you, Ning E’mei, and men like Zhou Kang and Gu Dazu are doing.”
Xu Fengnian exhaled heavily and stood. “Maybe there are places in Liyang like Northern Liang, where, in this golden age where everyone can live, some are still willing to die. But I doubt there’s anywhere else where so many are willing to die together.”
He turned to Ning E’mei. “Selling those chests of treasures to the wealthy elites of other provinces at bargain prices—I don’t regret it at all. Even if Qingliang Mountain is emptied, even if the Xu family ends up destitute one day, it doesn’t matter.”
His lips twisted—whether from the sword energy in his body or something else—into something fierce and snarling. “But the real inheritance Xu Xiao left me—like the 300,000 Iron Cavalry—every single one I lose after inheriting the title of Prince of Northern Liang, it’ll break my heart. Or the morale of my Xu family’s army—if it wanes even a fraction under my watch, I’ll feel nothing but guilt.”
Ning E’mei suddenly recalled a saying:
*Those who think too much burden their hearts; those who carry too much weight in their hearts suffer.*
Xu Fengnian suddenly laughed softly. “Do you know what the old generals—Wei Tieshan, Liu Yuanji, and the others—thought when I passed by He Zhonghu’s residence and met them while they were visiting the ailing Right Cavalry commander? Liu Yuanji shared a few heartfelt words with me. He said that in just twenty years, the young captain Zhong Hongwu, who once charged ahead in every desperate battle, became the later-day Grand General of Pacification, who cared only about purging dissent in the army. Liu Yuanji told me to cherish the Northern Liang Iron Cavalry while it still exists, because in another twenty or thirty years, it might be gone. So he and Wei Tieshan want to ride and wield their blades while they still can, to die gloriously before they see that kind of Northern Liang Army.”
Ning E’mei took a sip of wine and murmured, “Born in Northern Liang, died in Northern Liang—what a way to go!”
After this quiet reflection, the ever-meticulous Ning E’mei carefully set down his cup, adjusting its position slightly before standing. “Your Highness, this general has long had a question but never dared ask. Today, with wine in me, perhaps I’ll borrow some courage and ask boldly?”
Xu Fengnian blinked, then smiled. “Ask away.”
Ning E’mei grinned. “This general just wants to know—if one day the 300,000 Iron Cavalry are all gone, would you regret it?”
Xu Fengnian didn’t hesitate. “Of course! I’d regret it to death—so much my guts would turn green!”
Ning E’mei scratched his head, his expression not disappointed but almost approving. He chuckled. “Just as I thought. Your Highness is a shrewd businessman, but when it comes to winning hearts, you’re still an amateur.”
Xu Fengnian burst into laughter.
Ning E’mei sobered. “But I know that even if you knew the 300,000 would be wiped out, you’d make the same choice all over again.”
Xu Fengnian nodded. “I can see that. Over the years, my ability to win hearts has been mediocre at best, but General Ning’s skill at flattery has improved remarkably.”
Ning E’mei smiled openly. “If what General Liu says is true, then dying now would be perfect timing.”
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