When Xu Fengnian boarded the carriage, Xu Yanbing asked, “Why not go in and take a look?”
Xu Fengnian chuckled, “This is where Xu Xiao played the humble grandson in his youth. I’d rather not step inside.”
Xu Yanbing smiled knowingly and nodded. “The Grand General would likely think the same.”
The carriage headed toward the not-so-distant Zhao Family Weng. It was just after court dismissal, and many carriages came their way. After all, the capital housed not only the mighty Six Ministries but also numerous other offices scattered elsewhere, large and small.
One after another, carriages and mounted officials passed by this inconspicuous carriage.
Xu Yanbing stopped outside the Ministry of Rites. The carriages and mounts of the ministry’s officials had already filled every available space, turning the once-broad entrance into a congested mess. There was no helping it—the Ministry of Rites was now the most prestigious and influential institution in the dynasty, handling an overwhelming number of formalities. Many officials from other ministries, who had previously avoided setting foot here, now visited frequently to chat up the ministry’s middle-ranking officers. As for the Minister of Rites, Sima Puhua, and the Left Vice Minister, Jin Lanting, forget about meeting them unless one held a vice-ministerial rank or higher. After all, officials of such stature had little need to stoop to such crude methods of networking.
When Xu Yanbing casually parked in an open spot, a minor clerk from the Ministry of Rites soon approached. Unlike the brash behavior of the two from the Ministry of War’s Armory Department, this clerk was cautious—Taian City was deep and full of hidden dragons, and countless bloody lessons had taught one principle: kindness and patience never went wrong. Better to be a cautious turtle than a reckless fool who gets his head chopped off.
The clerk soon felt immensely grateful for his prudence. Upon seeing the attire of the young man who lifted the carriage curtain, he immediately recognized him and bowed deeply with utmost respect. “This humble official pays his respects to the Prince of Northern Liang!”
Xu Fengnian stepped down from the carriage, nodded, and strode straight into the Ministry of Rites.
Behind him, the clerk remained bowed long after Xu Fengnian had entered the gates, as if he intended to maintain his humble posture until the end of time.
Leading the young prince was an unfortunate mid-ranking official from the Ministry of Rites’ Sacrificial Department, who happened to cross paths with the Prince of Northern Liang with no escape. His subordinates instantly distanced themselves, showing no willingness to share his fate.
Was it difficult to enter the Ministry of Rites nowadays? Without a sufficiently high-ranking acquaintance to guide one, other long-suffering officials would make things as difficult as possible?
That was indeed the truth.
But would this particular visitor care about such trivial rules? Even as the heir of Northern Liang, he had already been allowed to wear a sword in court!
So when the Sacrificial Department official heard the Prince of Northern Liang say he wanted to see the old minister, he dared not protest. Bowing and scraping, he led the way, mentioning only that the minister had an unshakable meeting in the imperial study after court and might require the prince to wait a while.
Xu Fengnian entered Sima Puhua’s office and didn’t refuse the official’s offer of tea.
As the young prince stood admiring the minister’s beloved painting *Frog Chorus from Mountain Spring*, the official carefully handed him a cup of hot tea and suddenly remembered something. After the hereditary succession in Northern Liang, this young man had been criticized for defacing priceless artworks with random inscriptions and even stamping them with the word “Fake.” Initially, countless officials and scholars who acquired these pieces from the Northern Liang Prince’s residence were furious, wishing they could drag the young man out of Wutong Courtyard and beat him senseless. Yet, within a few years, attitudes flipped entirely—now everyone was grinning from ear to ear. The reason was simple: regardless of how the scholarly elite resisted, any artwork touched by the young prince’s hand would at least double in value, if not more, and even then, they were nearly impossible to obtain!
Thinking of this, the official felt a pang of guilt. After Jin Lanting, who despised Northern Liang, took the second-highest seat in the Ministry of Rites, he had reluctantly sold several artworks to show loyalty. But he had secretly kept one piece, *Cooling Mountain Inscription*, planning to show it off in his retirement or use it as a bargaining chip at a critical career juncture. Just two words—”Cooling Mountain”—were, in his estimation, worth at least five hundred taels of gold!
Xu Fengnian finished his tea and walked to the desk, casually opening an exquisite sandalwood box. Inside lay six inksticks, one of which he picked up. It bore a golden dragon motif and the inscription “Splendid Prose,” clearly a rare piece from the Southern Tang dynasty’s master ink-maker Chu Zhi. Such treasures, after decades of changing hands, now likely graced the desks of Liyang officials. Unlike the displaced refugees of the Spring and Autumn Era, these inanimate objects seemed far luckier—they could wait to be cherished by another discerning scholar, while many exiles simply perished in foreign lands.
Minister Sima Puhua still hadn’t returned, and the official’s face grew increasingly pale as he endured the tension.
A cough sounded outside. The Sacrificial Department official calmly stepped out and saw a friendly colleague from the Provisions Department, a kind man who had remained a mid-ranking official for over a decade. The latter whispered anxiously, “Minister Sima reached the gates but turned back, saying he had business at the Chancellery. He insisted we not let the prince know and to claim the imperial meeting would last until noon. He also ordered us to entertain the prince well—any mistakes, and he’ll hold us accountable.”
Hearing this disastrous news, the official nearly cursed aloud. Suppressing the urge to flee, he took several deep breaths outside, his heart aching.
Then, inspiration struck. He whispered instructions to his colleague, who hesitated. The official clapped him on the shoulder and said firmly, “Go, now!”
After sending him off, the official tiptoed back inside and calmly explained the situation to the young prince, his face the picture of sincerity and remorse—more humble than when he’d been caught in bed with a maid by his fierce wife years ago.
Xu Fengnian glanced at him, expressionless, and gave a noncommittal “Hmm.” Then he said, “If the minister isn’t here, Vice Ministers Jiang and Jin Lanting should be, right?”
The official, not daring to ponder the implications of the differing titles, nodded eagerly. “Vice Minister Jiang is here! He was on leave but returned to handle urgent matters. Vice Minister Jin came straight back after court—he’s here too!”
Compared to the minister’s grand office, the vice ministers’ rooms, though private, were connected to other officials’ spaces, lacking the same exclusivity.
The Ministry of Rites was, after all, the place that taught propriety—its own rules were meticulous to the point of nitpicking.
Xu Fengnian and the official headed toward Right Vice Minister Jiang Yongle’s office, only to find Jiang rushing back, panting, having abandoned any pretense of dignity in front of his subordinates.
The official thought to himself, *Vice Minister Jiang, you’re on your own now. I didn’t mean to drag you into this, but the minister already threw me under the carriage. If I hadn’t lured you back, I might not see tomorrow’s sun. My brat’s favorite saying makes sense now—in this world, it’s better others die than me. If you drop dead, I’ll do my best to shoulder your duties.*
Once inside, Jiang Yongle shut the door and immediately knelt, refusing to rise.
Xu Fengnian was almost amused. Contrary to public belief, from Xu Xiao to Li Yishan to himself, Northern Liang had long been resigned to the posthumous title matter. Xu Fengnian’s refusal to accept the imperial decree—preventing even the eunuch messenger from entering Youzhou—was his filial duty and Northern Liang’s necessary stance. It didn’t mean he bore any deep grudge against Jiang Yongle, a minor figure in the Ministry of Rites. Besides, during the court debate, only Left Chancellor of the Imperial Academy Yao Baifeng had spoken fairly for Xu Xiao. Others, like Grand Secretary Yan Jiexi, Jin Lanting, and Lu Shengxiang, had proposed far harsher titles. In fact, Xu Xiao and Li Yishan had joked about his posthumous title, agreeing a negative one was inevitable. Ironically, the rarely studious Xu Xiao had often browsed the Ministry of Rites’ records in Wutong Courtyard, ultimately choosing two characters for himself: *Martial and Severe*.
“I’m a warrior—why would I want a civil character in my posthumous title? ‘Severe’ is better—meritorious yet bloodstained, balancing the scales. Consider it Northern Liang and Liyang settling old debts.”
Of course, Xu Fengnian’s lack of hatred didn’t mean he’d show kindness to the Ministry of Rites’ third-in-command. But seeing this high-ranking official kneel stubbornly, as if offering his neck for execution, was a sight to behold.
Before long, as the young prince left the room, the Sacrificial Department official faintly heard sobbing inside.
The official felt both relief and a tinge of regret.
Xu Fengnian reached Left Vice Minister Jin Lanting’s open door. The elegant Jin sat calmly behind his desk, watching the once-untouchable young prince with cold defiance.
Jin Lanting narrowed his eyes, unmoving, not even rising to greet him.
*You inherited the title of Prince of Northern Liang, climbing even higher.*
*But I, Jin Lanting, am no longer the minor noble from a backwater county!*
Then the official heard the prince say, “Step back.”
The young man commanding Northern Liang’s 300,000 iron cavalry crossed the threshold but left the door open.
No one dared peek inside to see what would happen.
Soon, a loud crash echoed from the room.
The Sacrificial Department official jumped in fright.
After what felt like an eternity, the young prince emerged, casually brushing his spotless sleeves before striding away.
The official hesitated to enter, only to hear the usually refined Left Vice Minister roar hoarsely, “Get out!”
A bone-chilling cold seemed to settle over the entire Ministry of Rites.
—
Xu Fengnian returned to the carriage and, seeing Xu Yanbing’s curious look, smiled. “No one died. But someone might wish they had.”
Xu Yanbing’s expression turned odd.
Xu Fengnian sighed. “I didn’t strip him. But if that’s your thing, feel free to visit—he’s probably still weeping like a willow in the rain.”
Xu Yanbing waved his hands hastily, laughing heartily.
Once he calmed down, as Xu Fengnian was about to enter the carriage, Xu Yanbing asked, “Next stop, the Imperial Observatory?”
Xu Fengnian nodded. “Yes.”
Xu Yanbing suddenly glanced toward a group of riders on the distant street—five mounted men whose imposing aura stood out starkly despite the thinning post-court traffic.
Xu Fengnian lifted the curtain as Xu Yanbing turned. Four of the riders glared hostilely, one even halting to grip his reins arrogantly, leaning back in challenge.
Xu Yanbing murmured, “The elder’s robe suggests a second-rank military official—likely one of the Four Conquest or Four Garrison Generals, or the Minister of War.”
Xu Fengnian said, “Probably Wu Zhongxuan, recently appointed Conquest-General of the South. Here to claim his rewards—might even be the new Minister of War. No wonder his men act so boldly.”
Xu Yanbing frowned. “Should I teach them a lesson?”
Xu Fengnian, behind the curtain, shook his head. “No need. Wu Zhongxuan still has some ties with an old acquaintance. If anyone’s to discipline them, let it be him later.”
Just as Xu Fengnian decided to ignore the provocation, the halted rider drew a finger across his throat.
Xu Yanbing said flatly, “Your Highness, you can’t expect me to make this trip just to play coachman, can you?”
Xu Fengnian chuckled. “Fine. Just don’t overdo it.”
Xu Yanbing asked, “Half-dead?”
Xu Fengnian replied, “He’s no frail scholar—beating him wouldn’t be impressive. But for a battle-hardened southern general, half-dead isn’t enough. If you don’t leave him mostly dead, you’d be insulting the famed southern army that dares compare itself to Northern Liang’s iron cavalry.”
Xu Yanbing, releasing the reins, laughed. “Since when is that the rule?”
Xu Fengnian lowered the curtain. “As long as Northern Liang’s cavalry stands, it is the rule.”
Xu Yanbing vanished. The next moment, he kicked the southern general’s horse sideways, sending both man and beast flying. The horse crashed heavily yards away.
Before the burly general could roll free, Xu Yanbing kicked him another twenty feet. Only the street’s width spared him from embedding into a wall.
Xu Yanbing planted a foot on the barely conscious general’s head, eyeing the other riders—all furious except Wu Zhongxuan, who calmly turned his horse.
Xu Yanbing said nothing, just ground his heel into the man’s skull.
*Since when does Northern Liang care about Ministry of War officials or southern generals?*
Wu Zhongxuan raised a hand, stopping his men’s retaliation. The elder general, clad in his second-rank lion robe, rode forward and looked down at Xu Yanbing. “Xu Yanbing of Northern Liang?”
Xu Yanbing replied indifferently, “Did you bring a thousand or two elite troops stationed near the capital? Otherwise, I fear tonight’s supper won’t be enough.”
Wu Zhongxuan smirked and turned away.
His three subordinates rushed to their fallen comrade’s aid.
—
Inside the carriage, Xu Fengnian sat with his sleeves tucked like a farmer’s, fingers interlaced and trembling slightly.
The Imperial Observatory was near.
Here lay the origins of the capital’s White-Clothed Case.
Here, the Spring and Autumn Era’s Blade Master had died.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage