In the grand capital of Great Chu, towering mansions stood alongside humble alleyways—a common sight. Yet, if anyone were to learn that a high-ranking military officer of the second grade resided in such a narrow lane, the outspoken censors would surely lament the disgrace to the imperial court. Xie Xichui, born into poverty, was precisely that man. Were it not for his identity as a disciple of Cao Changqing, the notion of a commoner like him rising to command an army would have been sheer fantasy. History, however, proved that capability bore no absolute relation to lineage. Had it not been for Lu Shengxiang’s surprise attacks and Chen Zhibao’s meteoric rise, Xie Xichui’s undefeated record would have persisted. Yang Shenxing, Yan Zhenchun, and Wu Zhongxuan—three veteran generals who carved their names in the chaos of the Spring and Autumn Era—all suffered humiliating defeats at the hands of this “greenhorn” Xie Xichui.
The winter sun cast a gentle warmth as a young man with stubble lounged on the doorstep, basking in its glow. Born and raised in this very alley, his frail frame had earned him the childhood nickname “Xie the Pole.” Even after leaving to study and returning to arm-wrestle victory over Zhao Dazhuang—whose arms were as thick as his calves—the neighbors still affectionately called him by that name. It seemed unshakable. To all, he was merely the late-born son of the Xie family, a scholar of modest achievements, though at least comfortably fed and clothed. Yet, his constant absence from home meant he had yet to marry and continue the family line, much to the chagrin of Old Xie, the liquor seller. Whenever neighbors boasted of their sons becoming minor officials or passing imperial exams, Old Xie could only muster hollow praise, unheard and unheeded. Had it not been for his son’s tutor once sharing a drink and assuring him the boy had promise, Old Xie would have long dragged him by the ear into the liquor trade. The family had savings enough, but for the poor, it wasn’t wealth that mattered—it was stability. Yet, what family would wed their daughter to a man who seemed to float through life?
A group of rowdy idlers passed by, childhood peers of Xie the Pole. One paused, grinning. “Pole, come! I’ll take you to the gambling den. Walk in a bachelor, walk out a married man! Never tasted meat, have you?”
Xie flipped them off with a middle finger. “Piss off!”
They laughed and sauntered away, unbothered by his pride. Though they lived recklessly, they never harassed their own neighbors—only outsiders. After all, these streets had watched them grow up bare-bottomed. Their first taste of liquor had been stolen from Old Xie’s stash, earning them a half-day’s cursing at his door. They’d lounged at home, picking their ears, until the storm passed. And who’d been the first to peek at Widow Ma bathing? Xie Xichui! Who’d thrown stones into the privy of the prettiest girl on the street? At thirteen or fourteen, he’d scared her so badly she refused to come out until her parents found her wailing. The beating Old Xie gave him afterward was legendary, leaving Xie limping for days. To this day, over a decade later, he hadn’t spoken a word to her. When their paths crossed, both hugged the walls. Yet, mysteriously, she remained unwed, her parents desperate to marry her off to anyone willing. Everyone knew she was waiting—for him. Even her once-snobbish parents had begun meeting secretly with Old Xie. The old man wasn’t opposed, but with his son rarely home, the matter dragged on—until now. This time, Xie wasn’t leaving soon. Old Xie finally laid down the law: marry, or be disowned.
Seated on the steps, Xie greeted every passing neighbor with a smile, enduring their jibes about grandchildren and free liquor. He played dumb when their eyes flicked toward the Liu family’s “old maid.” His gaze drifted to the couplets flanking the door—mediocre calligraphy, clichéd verses. His mother had whispered that Old Xie had begged them last year from the Song family’s newly minted scholar. The Songs had since swiped over ten pounds of free liquor. Xie sighed. Before leaving this time, he’d secure a stack of spring couplets and characters—no more humiliation for his parents. Here, men measured their lives by their wives’ beauty, their children’s success, and their in-laws’ filial piety.
Xie rubbed his face fiercely.
He longed to make his parents proud, to surpass their neighbors’ children. Yet, though they were ordinary folk, all of Great Chu knew war followed war. A son’s glory paled beside his safety. Xie knew his parents would choose the latter. He’d meant to confess the truth this visit, but seeing how aged they’d grown, how his stern father sat drinking with him in silence, the words stuck in his throat. If he died on the battlefield, he’d rather they thought him still wandering the world, studying.
Old Xie emerged, glowering at his idle son before stalking off, hands clasped behind his back. His mother followed, smiling. “Ignore him. He’s gone to buy meat. Dug out coins from under the bed—pretended I didn’t see.”
Xie grinned. His father’s temper was nothing new.
“I’ve always liked the Liu girl,” his mother mused. “Back then, her family wouldn’t glance our way. Now she’s older, they’re desperate. Truthfully, son, if you weren’t mine, you’d not deserve her.”
Xie smirked. “Ma, am I really yours?”
She swatted at him. “Such cheek! No wonder you’re unwed. Your father hears that, he’ll thrash you!”
Xie flexed his arm. “Used to run from his beatings. Now? He can’t catch me.”
She flicked his forehead. “Don’t provoke him. I shielded you as a child. Now, I’ll side with him.”
Xie stuck out his tongue. “Got it!”
Her tone turned serious. “The Liu girl’s no spring chicken, but she’s still the fairest here. No thoughts? Rumor says an official wants her as a concubine. Her parents haven’t visited since autumn.”
Xie’s smile faded.
“I won’t push you,” she said softly. “You’re grown. We just want you happy.”
He nodded, staring blankly as she retreated inside, his gaze drifting down the alley.
A sprinting youth bounded into view. “Xie the Pole! What’re you gawking at?”
Lü Situ, on his second visit to the Xie household, had learned from his first mistake—arriving swordless this time, bearing chickens and ducks instead. His elders had debated the gift for hours: fine wine? No, the Xies sold liquor. Silk? Too flashy. A sandalwood chair? Too pretentious. Finally, the venerable swordsmaster Lü Tiandan decreed poultry—practical, edible. Thus, Lü Situ had raced from the noble quarter, feathers flying, to present his fowl.
Xie rolled his eyes. “Gawking at your uncle.”
Lü hoisted a chicken. “Uncle’s here!”
As Xie made to kick him, the boy darted inside, yelling, “Auntie! Where do these go? Can we cook them for lunch? I’ve got plans later—”
Xie sighed. Some gift-giver.
Then he frowned.
Two figures approached down the alley.
At their arrival, neighbors froze or pressed themselves against walls. Even the sunbathing elders fell silent.
One was Pei Sui, future head of the Pei clan and Xie’s old classmate. Their flawless coordination had trapped Yang Shenxing’s forces, securing Great Chu’s first major victory.
The other, Xie disliked.
Song Maolin, heir of the Song clan.
Alongside Xie, he was hailed as one of Great Chu’s twin jewels—a peerless gentleman, elegant as an immortal descended.
Yet, strangely, Xie could tolerate Kou Jianghuai’s arrogance but not Song’s impeccable courtesy.
Lü Situ shared the sentiment. To him, Song’s flaw was simple: he coveted the emperor’s sister. The boy would sooner see her wed to some distant prince than this “paragon of virtue.” Like his elders, Lü believed such men—too perfect to fart in public—were surely hypocrites. Xie, who rarely despised anyone, agreed wholeheartedly.
So Xie Xie stood up with a smile and walked toward his good friend Pei Sui and the visiting young master of the Song family. As he grabbed Pei Sui’s arm, he subtly gave it a twist. Pei Sui, ever the steadfast companion, endured the pain without a flinch and kept smiling.
Xie Xie declared without hesitation, “Come on, let’s find a place to drink. Don’t worry, my shop isn’t open today, and I don’t have the habit of swindling friends. But if I ever run out of money someday, who knows what might happen…”
He led them to a relatively clean tavern—though in Song Maolin’s eyes, it probably made no difference.
After nearly two hours of merry drinking, they parted ways. Xie Xie and Pei Sui escorted Song Maolin to his carriage and watched him leave.
As they walked back through the alley, Pei Sui teased, “Must’ve been tough, wasting another hour talking nonsense with him.”
Xie Xie replied calmly, “The wasted words were replenished by the wine. The only downside is that *you* paid the bill, not the esteemed Young Master Song.”
Pei Sui chuckled. “How could Young Master Song carry such vulgar things as money on him? But if he were truly penniless, he wouldn’t hesitate to offer his priceless jade pendant as payment.”
Xie Xie smirked. “That would’ve made for another fine tale.”
Pei Sui slung an arm over Xie Xie’s shoulder and joked, “Well, my ties with the Song family end here anyway. Just consider it as keeping me company for a drink.”
That Xie Xie, born into humble origins, could become close friends with Pei Sui, a scion of the illustrious Pei family, was nothing short of a miracle. In the rigidly hierarchical Great Chu, noble families often looked down on commoners as little better than servants, refusing to even share a table with them. When Xie Xie and Pei Sui first met as classmates, neither knew the other’s background. Pei Sui’s favorite line was, *”I love befriending those who treat money like dirt—I’d gladly shovel manure every day.”* Xie Xie had guessed Pei Sui came from a well-off family, but when Pei Sui finally revealed his true identity—a descendant of the Kunyang Pei Clan, a lineage so prestigious that they *”only married among the Nine Great Families and never into the imperial house”* since the days of the Great Feng Dynasty—Xie Xie was still stunned. Yet what truly moved him wasn’t Pei Sui’s lofty status, but his willingness to openly share it with Xie Xie, then still an unknown nobody.
Their teacher, Cao Changqing—the same man who had once sat cross-legged drinking with Xie Xie’s father—had long taught them: *”Principles are principles, regardless of how few uphold them or how many ignore them. Do not bully the poor, nor flatter the rich. Do not assume all the poor are virtuous, nor all the noble wicked. To know reason is to possess courtesy; with courtesy comes stability, and with stability, peace. This is the Confucian Way.”*
Pei Sui murmured, “Song Maolin’s motives aren’t complicated. With Wu Zhongxuan’s defection in the south, some at court suggest allying with the Prince of Yanchi—hinting at persuading Zhao Bing to have his heir, Zhao Zhu, *marry into* our Great Chu’s Jiang family. No wonder Song Maolin is restless.”
Xie Xie sneered. “If he’s got the guts, let him carve his own path. Scheming his way to power? Pathetic.”
Pei Sui grinned. “You’re not including me in that insult, are you?”
Xie Xie turned with a smirk. “Should I think about it?”
Pei Sui sighed dramatically. “Too late to regret befriending you now.”
Xie Xie huffed. “Then hurry and catch up to Young Master Song. It’s not too late for that.”
Pei Sui laughed. “Nah, I’d feel out of place. A misfit like me, born into nobility by accident, just doesn’t mix well with their kind.”
Xie Xie deadpanned, “Or share the same piss pot?”
Pei Sui paled. “Xie Xie, must you be so disgusting?”
Xie Xie replied solemnly, “Yes.”
Pei Sui sighed heavily. After years of friendship, he knew how to handle Xie Xie’s deadpan humor—by stooping to his level. Gritting his teeth, he said, “Truly, my *manure-shoveling* brother!”
Xie Xie grinned. “Pei the Dung-Shoveler, remember to wash your hands before eating at my place later.”
Pei Sui took a deep breath. “Fine!”
Before entering the alley, Xie Xie suddenly asked, “Pei Sui, if there’s something I really want to do but fear I might regret it, what should I do?”
Pei Sui answered bluntly, “Regret doing it? That’s nonsense. Not doing it guarantees regret. Since doing it only *might* bring regret, why not go for it? Xie Xie, have you lost your mind?”
Finally scoring a point, Pei Sui looked smug.
Xie Xie, head lowered, whispered, “Yeah.”
Pei Sui frowned. “Since when does Xie Xie hesitate over anything?” Then he gasped. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of becoming an official in Tai’an City! I’ll rat you out!”
Xie Xie roared, “Pei the Dung-Shoveler! You looking for trouble?!”
Then he noticed Pei Sui smiling ahead.
And then, he saw her—a woman standing frozen at a nearby doorstep, wide-eyed and flustered, as if shocked by his crude language.
Xie Xie gulped.
Pei Sui, sharp-eyed, instantly grasped the situation and smirked. What woman could rattle Xie Xie like this?
Few men in this world could evade the deadliest flying sword of all—*childhood sweethearts*.
Resisting the urge to gloat, Pei Sui made to leave, only for Xie Xie to grip his sleeve tightly.
“Don’t go,” Xie Xie muttered. “Stay and back me up.”
Pei Sui nearly burst out laughing.
The man their teacher once declared *”Great Chu would surely be restored with just three Xie Xies”* needed moral support?
Pei Sui almost bowed to the unknown woman on the spot.
This was the same Xie Xie who debated their teacher without a hint of fear.
The woman hesitated, stealing only a quick glance at Xie Xie before lowering her gaze and stepping toward the stairs.
Xie Xie faltered.
Pei Sui elbowed him sharply.
Finally, Xie Xie stammered, “Liu Dongmei!”
Pei Sui stifled a laugh—her name was… *unremarkable*.
Though Xie Xie’s voice wasn’t loud, the woman stopped—but didn’t turn.
Xie Xie rubbed his face, gathering courage. “My name is Xie Xie!”
Pei Sui rolled his eyes skyward.
*No shit, genius. The neighbors already know that.*
But what came next surprised him.
Xie Xie scratched his head and grinned. “I want to marry you! No other woman compares—I only like you!”
Pei Sui gave a thumbs-up, only to be kicked by Xie Xie.
The woman didn’t turn or speak, but her shoulders trembled slightly.
Xie Xie’s voice softened. “Back then… throwing stones at your house was wrong, but… I had a reason. I thought you liked that bookworm Song Zhengqing, and I couldn’t take it…”
Pei Sui glanced upward again.
*No wonder he dislikes Song Maolin—same surname.*
He almost pitied Song Maolin for the unfair association.
Xie Xie paused, then declared loudly, “But now, I’ve achieved more than that *child scholar* Song Zhengqing ever will!”
He thumped his chest. “I, Xie Xie, am the same Xie Xie you’ve probably heard of—the one who’s loved you for years, the silly Xie Bamboo Pole! Now I’m Great Chu’s *Zhenbei General*, a second-rank military officer!”
Nearby, the elderly onlookers nearly toppled off their stools in shock.
Pei Sui’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
As a noble, he’d witnessed too much ugliness in human relationships—whether between friends, spouses, or rulers and subjects. Few bonds endured the test of time.
He suddenly worried. Whether this woman from the slums accepted Xie Xie or not, something felt *off*.
If she refused, they’d part ways forever.
If she accepted, how much of it was for Xie Xie himself, and how much for his newfound status?
Pei Sui wished Xie Xie hadn’t revealed his rank.
But not revealing it would’ve been dishonest too.
He knew a woman Xie Xie’s age, still unmarried in these alleys, must have suffered greatly from gossip. Xie Xie surely wanted her to know her wait hadn’t been in vain.
*If only he’d waited for her answer before dropping the bombshell.*
Yet, strangely, Xie Xie—the brightest of their class, their teacher’s proudest disciple—showed no hesitation, as if utterly certain of something.
The woman finally turned, wiping her tears before facing him.
She spoke a single sentence.
Hearing it, Pei Sui bowed deeply and said with genuine respect, “Pei Sui of the Kunyang Pei Clan, greetings to my sister-in-law!”
Because that woman, with her plain name, had uttered the most extraordinary words—words that would later drive the fiercely loyal Xie Xie to abandon his identity and secretly join Northern Liang.
Her words were simple, yet resolute:
*”Xie Xie, I used to fear I’d never see you again. But from today onward, I’m no longer afraid—because I’m not afraid of becoming a Xie family widow.”*
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