Outside the door, leaning against the corridor pillar, Xu Xiao exhaled a heavy breath of turbid air. The martial artist, who had been forcibly suppressing his fury, was now ready to strike.
Xu Xiao was no Wang Jijiu. As a mere warrior, he had always believed that fists could solve problems better than words.
Han Laoshan, his fellow disciple and now the general of Lingzhou, was the first person he wanted to beat tonight.
But Xu Xiao froze for a moment, because a figure in white robes was slowly approaching from a distance.
In Xu Xiao’s eyes, this young man with a shadowed past was perhaps the only person in the world more captivating than Chen Yu and even more handsome than Xu Fengnian.
They had met in the jianghu in their early years, once flipping through books in the Listening Tide Pavilion, and later, he had even lent his blade to the young master for his travels.
White Fox.
He brushed past Jin Baoshi, walking behind Wang Jijiu, and stood at the entrance with an icy expression. “Xu Fengnian, are you a man? If you are, then go to Guangling Dao. I’ll accompany you.”
Xu Fengnian did not rise, asking softly, “What if I go alone, without a single soldier, swift in departure and return?”
Chu Lushan, the Northern Liang Protector who had been feigning deafness and muteness, struggled to his feet. For the first time, he shook his head at the “young master” with an unyielding tone. “I, Chu Lushan, am the first to refuse!”
Yan Wenluan also stood up. “I, Yan Wenluan, refuse!”
Xu Beizhi and Chen Xiliang rose almost simultaneously, their voices united in refusal.
Almost everyone stood up, refusing.
Among them were Xu Xiao’s sworn sons like Yuan Zuozong and Qi Dangguo, brothers like Li Hanlin, elders like Gu Dazu and Huang Shang whom Xu Fengnian had personally brought to Northern Liang and granted high positions, and promising young generals like Chang Sui, Xu Huang, and Hong Biao.
All refused.
Xu Fengnian slowly stood up, looking at White Fox with a strained smile.
White Fox said nothing, only removing the embroidered winter blade from his waist and tossing it high to Xu Fengnian. Calmly, he said, “Just follow me.”
Xu Xiao stood beside White Fox, arms crossed, nodding at the young prince.
Xu Fengnian instinctively caught the familiar embroidered winter blade, only for the light before him to dim—Huang Man’er had stepped in front of him, blocking everyone. Striking his palm with a fist, he said coldly, “Anyone who stops my brother dies!”
Xu Fengnian gently patted Huang Man’er’s shoulder. The latter turned his head, and Xu Fengnian said softly, “Sit back down.”
Xu Longxiang shook his head.
Xu Fengnian said calmly, “Sit back down.”
Xu Longxiang roared, “No!”
White Fox narrowed his peach-blossom eyes, pressing his thumb against the hilt of the spring thunder blade, ready to draw.
Xu Fengnian sat back down, placing the embroidered winter blade on his knees. He bent over again to pick up the fire tongs, his lips moving slightly.
A faint sizzling sound pierced the silence of the council hall, like water dripping into a furnace.
White Fox’s face was filled with rage. “Xu Fengnian!”
Even Xu Xiao was seething with killing intent, glaring at Han Laoshan. “If you don’t sit down, then face my spear. Next year’s Qingming Festival, I’ll pour you a drink myself.”
For some reason, Xu Xiao saw the man blink, a hint of inexplicable amusement in his eyes.
From the head seat, Xu Fengnian, his expression unseen, lowered his head and murmured, “I’ll be right back.” Then he vanished, returning to his seat in less than the time it took for an incense stick to burn.
During that time, the young man had gone to a now ownerless house. This year, for the first time, a pair of spring couplets and a “spring” character had been pasted outside the humble dwelling. He hadn’t done it himself but had his disciples Wang Sheng and Yu Dilong sneak over to do it.
He had hoped to bring her back to Qingliang Mountain and see if she would show even a hint of surprise.
It seemed he would break his promise.
Xu Fengnian rubbed his face and looked up.
※※※
Everywhere in the Central Plains, people celebrated the New Year’s Eve. In the capital of Western Chu, firecrackers crackled to bid farewell to the old year. Amid the festive atmosphere, a young woman in dragon robes sat alone in the imperial study. A large brazier filled with ample charcoal burned from dusk until now, the heat just right—warm but not scalding. The majestic Empress of Western Chu had no desire to sleep. She sat on a small stool, curled up, her chin resting on her hands. A small gourd hung from her wrist, inside which a light, melodious chirping could be heard. Life is fleeting, like grass and trees in autumn, and insects live and die in haste. But the Western Chu palace had long held a tradition: the Imperial Household Department would catch crickets and katydids every autumn, raising them in embroidered cages and clay pots on heated beds, covering them with soil and watering them until they matured in winter, just in time for the New Year’s banquet. Their chirping, loud and clear, complemented the sound of firecrackers. The small gourd in Jiang Ni’s hand held a few long-lived insects, their wings fluttering, their chirping continuous. The gourd, homophonous with “fortune and prosperity,” had been recorded in ancient texts as early as “eating melons in July, breaking gourds in August.” Folklore also claimed it could absorb all the negative energies of the world. Thus, every empress of Western Chu would personally plant gourd seedlings each spring. By midsummer, the gourd vines would be lush and green, and by autumn, the gourds would be harvested. The Imperial Household Department would turn them into ladles or wine vessels, bestowed by the emperor upon meritorious officials. Jiang Ni raised her arm, gazing at the small, yellowish gourd. She wasn’t thinking of the Western Chu Jiang family’s traditions but of that vegetable patch on the mountain, that verdant greenery. Every day after work, she would squat there, watching the green grow richer, her heart filled with joy she had never shared with anyone—not even her chess tutor uncle or the old man in sheepskin. Because from the moment she could remember, even now as she sat on the throne of Western Chu, she felt that small vegetable patch was the only thing truly hers. The vast lands of Western Chu, the battlefield of Xileibi, the capital—all felt alien, impossible to grow close to.
Moving books to Wudang Mountain, later reading books to earn money for someone, then practicing calligraphy and swordsmanship with Li Chungang, and finally donning these most noble and luxurious robes in the world…
Jiang Ni sighed, pressing the small gourd to her ear. The chirping inside held no joy, only an inexplicable melancholy.
The large room, lit by red candles, was not gloomy, but Jiang Ni still felt afraid. Outside stood palace maids, yet she had always been timid. In her life, she had only done two bold things: stabbing someone with the divine dagger Shenfu and practicing swordsmanship. As for becoming the first female emperor in Central Plains history, leaving a legacy for eternity, she felt nothing. The word “home” turned over in her mind until, to her frustration, she realized that deep down, the only place that felt like home was that dilapidated house, freezing cold every winter, where her teeth would chatter. Back then, every New Year’s Eve, that detestable boy of similar age would swagger behind the old man she feared most, pasting spring couplets. Once, the boy had deliberately come to her room, smiling as he asked if she wanted couplets on her doorposts. Of course, she had said no, but she knew—though refused to admit—that she had wanted to. The firecrackers outside grew louder. Jiang Ni stood and walked to the window, knowing the moment of transition was near.
Suddenly, the door creaked open behind her. Jiang Ni turned with a smile, unsurprised to see her chess tutor uncle. The sight of this kind elder always put her at ease.
Cao Changqing gently closed the door. The palace maids outside paid no heed. This man, hailed as Western Chu’s most accomplished, held a place in the hearts of its people that even the current emperor could not rival. The reverence for Cao Changqing, the imperial tutor, was genuine from top to bottom.
Cao Changqing crouched by the brazier, warming his hands over the charcoal. Logically, as a Confucian sage and terrestrial immortal, he should have been impervious to heat and cold.
Jiang Ni sat back on the small stool, her smile radiant.
After a moment’s hesitation, Cao Changqing said, “The New Year is almost here. I should be bringing good news, but there’s something I must tell you first. We recently received word that many of Northern Liang’s generals will gather in the council hall these days.”
The young empress blinked in confusion. “Huh? Are they celebrating the New Year so early?”
Cao Changqing smiled bitterly, a trace of sorrow in his voice. “In my original prediction, if he were to march troops to Guangling Dao, neither Northern Mang nor Liyang could stop him. Northern Mang wouldn’t rush south, and Liyang, having appointed two as the Jing’an Dao’s governor and military commissioner, was in the wrong. The only ones who could stop him would be within Northern Liang. I thought with Chu Lushan, Yuan Zuozong, Chen Xiliang, and Xu Beizhi speaking for him, it wouldn’t come to this. It seems I underestimated Northern Liang’s cohesion and their determination to defeat Northern Mang. If this had happened before last year, Xu Fengnian would have insisted on sending troops, at least going south alone. But now…”
Jiang Ni lowered her head. “Mm,” she said softly. “It’s fine. I never thought he would come.”
Cao Changqing was silent for a long time, his voice hoarse. “Your Majesty, remember this: it’s not that he doesn’t want to come, but that he can’t. This is not Xu Fengnian’s fault.”
Jiang Ni stared blankly at the brazier, saying nothing.
Cao Changqing smiled bitterly. “Originally, I planned to head north whenever Northern Liang marched on Guangling Dao. Now, I must reconsider.”
Distracted, Jiang Ni didn’t notice that her chess tutor uncle had said “I,” not “lead the army north.”
As Cao Changqing used the tongs to adjust the charcoal, making the brazier slightly warmer, he said softly, “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have forced Your Majesty to return here with grand ideals of family and country.”
Jiang Ni shook her head.
Suddenly, Cao Changqing displayed a rare, unconcealed anger. “Xu Fengnian has never let Northern Liang down or broken their hearts. How could you, Northern Liang, do this?! How are you any different from me, Cao Changqing?!”
Jiang Ni looked up, seeming somewhat relieved. Smiling, she took off the small gourd and handed it to Cao Changqing. “Uncle Chess Tutor, listen.”
The Confucian scholar with frost-touched temples did not take the gourd. Instead, he clenched his fists, closing his eyes in agony.
Outside the window, the New Year arrived. North and south of the great river, snow began to fall once more—auspicious snow heralding a bountiful year.
Snow fell from the sky, scattering across the world, yet no song could capture its beauty.
※※※
But in Northern Liang, Xu Fengnian, Xu Weixiong, Wang Jijiu, and White Fox.
In Guangling Dao, the little mud figure and Cao Changqing.
Forgetting the past, on this New Year’s Eve, it seemed they had all forgotten that Northern Liang was never part of Liyang!
What happened next left Jin Baoshi with a memory she would never forget.
Wang Jijiu was dumbstruck.
Chu Lushan stepped forward, turning to face the head seat. Clasping his fists and bowing, he declared loudly, “Whether the Prince of Northern Liang leads ten thousand cavalry south or goes alone to Guangling Dao, I, Chu Lushan, am the second to refuse!”
Yuan Zuozong also stepped forward, mirroring Chu Lushan’s gesture. “If the prince goes without me, Yuan Zuozong, of course I refuse!”
Yan Wenluan snorted, striding forward with the same motion. “Without the Great Snow Dragon Cavalry entering the Central Plains, how can we showcase Northern Liang’s might? How could I, Yan Wenluan, agree?!”
Xu Beizhi lazily said, “The illustrious Prince of Northern Liang, commanding three hundred thousand iron cavalry, leading a ragtag bunch of so-called ‘elites’ to the Central Plains? Northern Liang would lose face. How could I, Xu Beizhi, agree?”
Song Dongming stepped forward, laughing heartily. “The world says I, Song Dongming, am an unworthy deputy governor. Fine. But must the peerless Northern Liang cavalry also be belittled? Even as a scholar, I refuse!”
Li Hanlin shouted, “Brother Nian, if you’re marrying your little wife, how can the dowry be lacking? As your brother, I refuse!”
After the chorus of refusals, Bai Yu had the final word. Smiling, he said, “If the Central Plains cannot tolerate a woman raised by the Xu family, then Northern Liang’s iron cavalry naturally refuses! I believe Liu Jinu, Wang Lingbao, and the others would all refuse!”
Bai Yu pointed at the empty chair beside the young prince. “Even if you, Xu Fengnian, can agree, the Grand General would be the first to refuse!”
※※※
Xu Fengnian looked utterly bewildered.
As if by telepathy, everyone burst into laughter.
They had been in on the act all along, holding back their laughter with great difficulty.
Xu Beizhi grinned brightly, exchanging a look with Chu Lushan. The two of them had orchestrated this performance.
Northern Liang, with three hundred thousand cavalry beyond the pass and millions within, owed their prince a surprise!
Under the collective gaze, Xu Fengnian raised his arm to wipe his eyes, muttering, “Bastards.”
At that moment, everyone chorused, “Grand General, please take your seat!”
Wang Jijiu looked at the assembled officials, then plopped down on the threshold, trembling with excitement. Recalling a certain young man’s catchphrase, he murmured, “Such skill deserves no reward.”
At that moment, whether it was battling Tuoba Pusa across a thousand li, fighting two alone at Xiamawei, or killing at the Qin Tian Jian, Xu Fengnian had never felt such pride. The young prince waved his sleeves grandly, taking the seat first. “Sit!” he declared.
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