Xu Fengnian finished his last cup of wine and gently set down the cup. Since he was sharing the table, as more dishes and wine were brought for the other group, his own plates and bowls were squeezed together pitifully—a classic case of the dove occupying the magpie’s nest.
As if fearing this unwelcome fellow might covet their beauty and shamelessly ask the waiter for another jug of wine, the four men cast unfriendly glances at Xu Fengnian when he set down his cup.
Xu Fengnian smiled and prepared to tactfully settle the bill and leave.
Because Xu Beizhi, who had somehow found his way here, was already standing behind the woman. He had refused Xu Fengnian’s earlier silent invitation to sit and had been standing for the duration of two cups of wine, laughing with malicious delight every time the two scholars mocked Xu Fengnian.
Xu Fengnian actually felt quite guilty toward this young strategist he had personally lured from the Northern Wilderness to Northern Liang. The rivalry between Xu Beizhi and Chen Xiliang had been foreshadowed even during their mentor Li Yishan’s lifetime. Regarding the tempering of these two uncut gems, Li Yishan had once offered unique insights to Xu Fengnian:
*”Xu Beizhi is like a noblewoman—even if she is of average appearance, she carries an innate grandeur. She must be carefully polished in the details, her arrogance tempered, before her true brilliance can gradually emerge.”*
*”Chen Xiliang, on the other hand, is like a beauty from a poor family—though stunningly beautiful, she lacks the natural air of nobility. She must be given grandeur in the broad strokes, her vision expanded, before she can achieve effortless grace, charming without being coquettish.”*
Thus, over the years, Xu Fengnian had tried to keep Chen Xiliang “by his side,” first entrusting him with Northern Liang’s salt and iron administration, then later with the military and political reforms of the region. Meanwhile, Xu Beizhi was sent away, far from Cool Breeze Mountain, to slowly climb the ranks in Lingzhou’s bureaucracy. It wasn’t until the imminent war with the Northern Wilderness forced the hasty removal of Zhong Hongwu that Xu Beizhi was rapidly promoted.
Now, their trajectories had reversed—Chen Xiliang was far away in the Western Regions’ Liuzhou, while Xu Beizhi resided in the Cool Breeze Mountain palace. Truly, fate played tricks on them.
On the surface, Xu Beizhi had served as Lingzhou’s governor, a pragmatic frontier official. Now, as Northern Liang’s Transport Commissioner, though the role was somewhat abstract, it was akin to a provincial governor in the Liyang court being promoted to one of the Six Ministries. If he could cycle through another stint in the provinces and return to the central court, he would almost certainly become the next Chief or Deputy Chief Minister.
In contrast, Chen Xiliang had overseen salt, iron, water transport, and military reforms—two failures, one success. His rank remained neither high nor low, and even in Liuzhou’s Qingcang City, he had only risen to the position of Deputy Administrator—lower than Xu Beizhi’s Lingzhou governorship. It seemed as though Xu Beizhi had left him far behind.
But in reality, the military officers who benefited from Chen Xiliang’s reforms—men like Wang Zhi, Huang Xiaokuai, and Jiao Wuyi—held him in high regard, especially after the desperate defense of Qingcang City, which elevated Chen Xiliang to an almost transcendent status. Both the Northern Liang bureaucracy and the scholars who had come to serve in the region revered his transition from scholar to soldier.
A Transport Commissioner, still unrecognized by the court, versus a Deputy Administrator of Liuzhou, steadily rising through merit—one hidden in Northern Liang’s backyard, the other a frontline official who had witnessed the Northern Wilderness’s iron cavalry firsthand. Their future achievements would not be judged by rank alone.
Deep down, Xu Fengnian knew that Xu Beizhi, with his strategic brilliance, had only been “sidelined” in Lingzhou because he needed stability during the hereditary transition. Otherwise, Xu Beizhi should have been governing Youzhou or Liuzhou—one of the positions held by Yang Guangdou or Hu Kui should have been his.
But with the second war against the Northern Wilderness looming, Xu Fengnian still needed Xu Beizhi far from the battlefield, securing a stable rear for Northern Liang’s border armies. This was a battlefield without smoke—one the common folk would never see, and even the Northern Liang bureaucracy might overlook. Naturally, it paled in comparison to the dazzling brilliance of Chen Xiliang on the front lines.
As Xu Fengnian stood to call for the waiter, Xu Beizhi, for some inexplicable reason, stepped forward and patted the woman on the shoulder. When she turned in surprise, he asked, “May I ask your name?”
The two visiting scholars glared at this rogue, while the heroic swordsman from Liaodong stood abruptly, gripping his sword hilt. “Boy,” he growled, “I suggest you remove that dog’s paw from Miss Lu’s shoulder!”
The four watched as the young man reluctantly withdrew his hand—only to raise both hands and clap sharply.
Soon, an armored Northern Liang officer strode into the tavern, and the hall fell silent.
This was no ordinary soldier—likely a border army captain at the very least.
Xu Beizhi, now the very image of a spoiled noble brat, placed his “dog’s paw” back on the woman’s shoulder and pointed behind him. “What? Got a problem?”
The imposing officer behind him, though intimidating, wore a helpless expression. *Damn it, I’m a proper Lingzhou captain, and now I’m reduced to playing the thug for some young master? And right in front of the Northern Liang King, no less!*
Xu Fengnian, counting out coins to pay, felt a headache coming on. The waiter snatched the money and fled.
The Liaodong swordsman immediately released his sword hilt, clearly opting for peace.
Xu Beizhi suddenly turned to the Jizhou hero, stepped forward, and smacked him on the head. “That accent—Jizhou, right? Jizhou, huh? I almost became your damn Jizhou’s governor!”
If Xu Beizhi had his way, Northern Liang’s cavalry would have “borrowed” grain from Hezhou and Jizhou—all the way to the western capital.
Xu Fengnian, as a thick-skinned grandmaster, had borne Xu Beizhi’s frustrations without complaint. Today, he finally had a chance to vent.
The Jizhou hero was speechless. *I didn’t even glare at you—I was too busy with that greasy chicken leg, trying to impress Miss Lu! Why take it out on me?*
Soon, seven or eight more armored soldiers arrived, making Xu Beizhi’s “bullying” all the more blatant.
Xu Fengnian stood and circled the table, taking Xu Beizhi’s arm. “Let’s go,” he said softly.
Xu Beizhi shook him off angrily. “Go, go, go! All you ever do is retreat! If you showed even a fraction of the spine you have against the Northern Wilderness, the Liyang court wouldn’t dare send Wen Taiyi and Ma Zhongxian to take over Jing’an’s water transport! In Lingzhou, they called me the ‘Rice-Buying Governor.’ Now, in Cool Breeze Mountain, I’m the ‘Grain-Procuring Transport Commissioner’! Fine, I don’t care—but our Northern Liang cavalry *does*!”
His pent-up rage finally erupted. He punched Xu Fengnian in the chest. “If Liyang wants fewer deaths in the world, Northern Liang agrees! But if Liyang wants more Northern Liang deaths, I, Xu Beizhi, will be the first to refuse!”
His repeated mentions of “Wen Taiyi,” “Ma Zhongxian,” and “I, Xu Beizhi” silenced not just the two scholars who had mocked Northern Liang’s water transport—the entire tavern held its breath.
Xu Fengnian hesitated, then fell silent.
Suddenly, Xu Beizhi looked like a weary old man, disillusioned and self-mocking. “I know,” he said quietly. “You’ll make sure the court doesn’t withhold a single grain from Northern Liang. As Northern Liang’s king, you’ve done well.”
He met the young prince’s eyes. “But I think you deserve better.”
Then he turned back to the five, nearly roaring, “Do you think Northern Liang is full of fools? That every name on those memorial stones died for this bastard named Xu Fengnian?!”
Though sober, Xu Beizhi raged like a drunkard, scanning the room. “If I were that long-suffering bastard Xu Fengnian, I’d have chopped down every last one of you ungrateful wretches long ago! South of the border is Northern Liang—and south of Northern Liang is *your* Central Plains!”
Xu Fengnian shook his head. “Juzi, I’m not suffering.”
Xu Beizhi stared at him, then whispered bitterly, “*I* am.”
Xu Fengnian grinned, grabbing an unopened jug of wine from the table and slinging an arm around Xu Beizhi’s shoulders. “Alright, I’ll treat you.”
As he dragged Xu Beizhi away, he called back to the terrified waiter still clutching his change, “Skip their next jug—call it even.”
※※※
The captain following Xu Beizhi was none other than Wang Zhi, son of Northern Liang’s veteran Wang Shiqu. After the Jianmen Pass battle, he was stationed at Lazikou on the Milang Ridge Road bordering Lingzhou and Western Shu. Now one of Northern Liang’s fourteen captains, his status was evident by the presence of Hong Shuwen—a rising star of the Fengzi Battalion—under his command.
Some whispers reached Xu Fengnian through the Fushui spies.
In Northern Liang, to establish influence, one had to be tied to the military—even Li Gongde, as high-ranking as he was, couldn’t match the clout of men like Zhong Hongwu before Xu Fengnian took power. Among Northern Liang’s power blocs, aside from veterans like Yan Wenluan, He Zhonghu, and Chen Yunhui, even Huangfu Ping and Hu Kui counted—because they held military authority.
Chen Xiliang, too, had influence through his ties to the Longxiang Army and his bond with Kou Jianghuai during the Qingcang defense. But Xu Beizhi, once he left Lingzhou for the palace, lost his connections—hence Wang Zhi’s presence now, not just for Xu Beizhi’s sake but also as a nod from Lingzhou’s General Han Laoshan and the broader military’s expectations.
Xu Beizhi’s predicament mirrored that of nearly every border general—constrained by their factions. Even Zhou Kang, the Left Cavalry commander, resisted troop redistribution not out of personal greed but because of the interests of his backers. Only Xu Fengnian’s overwhelming authority forced his compliance.
And Chu Lushan, nominally Northern Liang’s top military man, remained in Huaiyang Pass—unable to play the villain even if he wanted to.
If Liyang’s late emperor Zhao Dun could kill Zhang Julu, would Xu Fengnian one day have to choose between Xu Beizhi, Chen Xiliang, and the greater good?
And would Xu Beizhi and Chen Xiliang, in turn, have to choose between their king and their ideals?
Perhaps not. Perhaps yes.
That “perhaps” alone was heavy enough.
Commoners chewing on steamed buns, nobles feasting at grand banquets—their pains and joys differed in scale, but not in weight.
The love between wandering immortals, local talents, or elderly couples in remote villages—some grand, some simple—was equal in depth.
Xu Fengnian and Xu Beizhi climbed a low market wall. Wang Zhi wisely stayed behind.
Xu Fengnian crouched on the wall, munching on freshly bought flatbread. He had bought two, but Xu Beizhi refused, so he stacked them together and ate both.
Xu Beizhi sat cross-legged, fists on his knees, lost in thought.
Between bites, Xu Fengnian mumbled, “Juzi, why the outburst? Who else pissed you off besides me?”
Xu Beizhi sighed. “The world pissed me off. And you just take it—so I’m unhappy.”
Xu Fengnian grinned, cheeks stuffed. “I’m unhappy too. Maybe my face is too thick for you to tell.”
Xu Beizhi didn’t look at him. “If Northern Liang ever conquers the Northern Wilderness and the world, I won’t go to the Central Plains. I’ll return to the Northern Wilderness.”
Xu Fengnian blinked. “What a waste. My sister always said Jiangnan’s climate breeds beautiful women—and she was right. If not for our own Yanzhi County girls, I’d never leave the south. Even if you won’t serve Liyang, you should at least visit.”
Xu Beizhi squinted at the sun. “No. From north to south, Lingzhou is far enough.”
Xu Fengnian nudged him. “Juzi, no sweethearts in Lingzhou? If there’s one who won’t have you, I’ll kidnap her for you.”
Xu Beizhi finally looked at him, deadly serious. “If you ever become emperor, don’t make Chen Xiliang Chief Minister. It’s better for both of you.”
Xu Fengnian laughed. “Relax, I won’t be emperor.”
Xu Beizhi pressed, “Then don’t let him become Liyang’s next Zhang Julu either.”
Xu Fengnian thumped his chest. “Once we beat the Northern Wilderness, keeping people alive will be easy.”
Xu Beizhi shook his head. “Zhang Julu *chose* to die.”
Xu Fengnian fell silent.
Xu Beizhi murmured, “Chen Xiliang doesn’t belong in the central court. As a governor, maybe—or a regional commissioner far from the capital. Only then might he grow old peacefully, bouncing grandchildren on his knee.”
Xu Fengnian nodded. “I’ll tell him when I can. But if he insists, I won’t stop him—probably couldn’t anyway.”
Xu Beizhi held out a hand.
Xu Fengnian blinked. “What?”
“Bread.”
Xu Fengnian broke off half and handed it over.
Xu Beizhi devoured it, wiping his mouth. “Shizi, when I’m unhappy, I take it out on you. What do *you* do?”
Xu Fengnian didn’t hesitate. “Fight Northern Wilderness barbarians!”
Xu Beizhi closed his eyes, slapping his knees in rhythm.
Xu Fengnian whistled along.
One Shizi (Persimmon), one Juzi (Tangerine).
As the whistling filled the air, Xu Beizhi suddenly declaimed:
*”You see—you see ten thousand carp leaping at Tide Listening Lake!”*
Xu Fengnian echoed, laughing:
*”But have you seen Cool Breeze Mountain, where countless named stones stand?”*
*”You see—you see skulls piled high at Hulu Pass!”*
*”But have you seen the south, where bones prop up city walls?”*
*”You see—you see Liangzhou’s north, where steeds neigh in the west wind!”*
*”But have you seen the border’s south, where scholars chant in broken huts?”*
*”You see—you see three hundred thousand iron cavalry, armor shaking the world!”*
*”But have you seen Northern Liang, where every household wears mourning white?”*
…
※※※
Many years later, the Northern Liang Palace on Cool Breeze Mountain had long become the Northern Liang Commissioner’s residence.
On a snowy night, a white-haired old man leaned on a cane, gazing down the empty street.
Chen Xiliang, revered as the foremost border official of the new Liyang dynasty, had guarded this once-Xu estate for forty years.
Forty years.
Last autumn, he had even refused the new emperor’s offer to become Chief Minister—thereby forfeiting the coveted “Wenzheng” posthumous title.
The entire court knew this Jiangnan scholar, who rose in Northern Liang and never left, had once aspired to “die with the title Wenzheng.”
Yesterday, he resigned.
Now, aged and frail, his hair as white as the snow, he waited.
Just as his blurred vision began to despair, a carriage arrived.
Trembling, he descended the steps.
Another white-haired old man stepped out, wrapped in heavy furs, supported by a similarly aged coachman—also surnamed Xu.
The three climbed the steps together, turning to watch the snow.
Chen Xiliang, after forty years as Northern Liang’s unwavering commissioner, leaned toward the other old man and whispered hoarsely, “I guarded Northern Liang and Cool Breeze Mountain for forty years. So I won, didn’t I, Xu Beizhi?”
The fur-clad man mustered all his strength to snort. “Fine… fine, you win.”
The man between them, though of the same age, looked decades younger. He clasped both their hands and smiled.
“No more arguing.”
Emperors had come and gone. Dynasties had risen and fallen.
But the three—Xu Fengnian, Xu Beizhi, Chen Xiliang—
On this night, simply watched the Northern Liang snow.
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