Xu Fengnian took each step forward, while Wei Wei and the man surnamed Zhao retreated two steps until they had nowhere left to go. Xu Fengnian approached the window just in time to witness the Crown Prince of Jing’an Wang leaping into the water with his guards following suit. Squinting his eyes, Xu was filled with deep contemplation.
The late emperor, renowned for his masterful political tactics, had suddenly passed away. The secret imperial edict hidden behind the plaque “Zheng Da Guang Ming,” the first hall of the imperial palace, had mysteriously vanished. This triggered chaos with eight princes vying for the throne in a series of unpredictable twists and turns. Initially, the deposed crown prince nearly seized power with the support of the revered old chancellor, the leader of the Qingliu faction. Unexpectedly, the former crown prince died in quick succession to the emperor, three days later. Following this, the sixth prince Zhao Heng gained the strongest momentum. The empress dowager especially valued this filial son, and the faction of imperial in-laws quickly aligned seamlessly with the leaderless civil officials. At that time, Zhao Heng composed the verse, “Lead a million troops to drive out the Meng slaves, and immediately erect a monument atop the first peak.” That was perhaps the briefest, most glorious moment of his reign as Jing’an Wang—yet fate had other plans. Just as one plots against another, an unexpected rival emerges. The second prince, originally deemed least likely to succeed, rose from obscurity. Somehow, he gained strong support from both the palace eunuchs and military generals. First, the empress dowager was secretly detained, followed by a string of assassinations. Several high-ranking members of the imperial in-law families perished overnight under mysterious circumstances. The lost imperial decree surfaced again, clearly stating the late emperor’s preference for the second prince to ascend the throne. Thus, the second prince assumed the dragon throne with legitimacy and is now the reigning emperor.
This struggle among eight princes, erupting from internal discord, resulted in the demise of only one—the original crown prince. Yet, to those who saw through the veil, it could already be seen as the emperor showing mercy. Compared to past dynasties where imperial descendants were wiped out entirely, this ending was far kinder. Princes like Zhao Heng eventually received princely titles and were granted fiefs and military authority. While the “Royal Clan Statutes” were harsh, princes like Zhao Heng of Jing’an and Zhao Ying of Huainan, who held weaker positions, never voiced complaints that echoed among the common people.
As for how the master and servant duo would travel to Xiangfan, that no longer concerned Xu Fengnian. After a moment’s thought, he turned to Ning Emei and said, “Throw all those yellow-haired lads you just rescued back into the water. One pavilioned boat cannot carry everyone. Let the pavilion commander swim to Laoshan with them. Wang Linquan will take care of the reception there. And when you’re kicking their backsides, don’t forget to say there’s good food and drink waiting for them on Laoshan. I, as the heir prince, have been nothing but benevolent.”
Ning Emei hurried off to carry out the orders. The noblewomen and daughters of Qingzhou, upon hearing the words of the heir prince of Beiliang, couldn’t help but suppress smiles. To them, the Great Column General and his heir were like distant figures in the heavens, untouched by the battles of courtly politics. The Qing party never directly engaged in clashes with the regional princes. Their skills in adapting to circumstances and preserving their own safety were hailed as the best in the political arena. Otherwise, how could there be only one Qing party from thirty states? The heir prince from Beiliang was quite fascinating. Despite seemingly slapping the face of Qingzhou’s navy, his hidden arrows were clearly aimed at the Jing’an mansion. This further assured the Qing party, who had clearly distanced themselves from Jing’an Prince Zhao Heng. Knowing their ancestors didn’t worry, the young women felt much more relaxed. While Qingzhou families indeed clung together, it was evident that Wei Chong’s household would be left behind. Rather than being dragged down, better to sip tea and enjoy the view, sailing on the same boat as the prince of Beiliang—what a sensational story to tell!
Xu Fengnian finally snapped out of his thoughts, walked to the corner, grabbed the man surnamed Zhao, and threw him out the window, his screams fading as he plunged into the water. He then turned to Wei Wei, who was making a last-ditch effort to fight like a trapped beast, and said, “The pavilion ship is at my disposal. Take me outside Xiangfan city. We’ll call it even between us. How does that sound?”
Wei Wei, who had already given up all hope and prepared himself to fight to the death, was first stunned, then joy spread across his pockmarked face. With a thud, he dropped to his knees, prostrating himself fully in a deep kowtow, his voice trembling, “Thank you, my lord prince!”
Xu Fengnian placed his foot on the head of Wei Ejiao and chuckled, “You clueless fool—didn’t you try desperately to become sworn brothers with Li Hanlin? Don’t you know that he has been taking the blame for others all these years?”
Although Wei Wei was still on his knees and being trodden on, he felt a growing sense of calm. He looked up with a fawning grin, “It’s all my fault—I failed to recognize your greatness.”
Indeed, a real man knows when to bend and when to stand tall—whether in bed or out of it. Even someone like Wei Wei, who was nothing more than a scoundrel and rogue, could manage to make a mark in his own way, no matter the trade.
Xu Fengnian laughed, “Get up. A man’s knees are meant for gold, not for kneeling to me.”
Wei Wei stood up carefully and had just begun to relax when Xu Fengnian’s next words instantly sent him back into a state of dread: “You’ve got decent archery skills—I heard you sharpened them by shooting women. Go on, take a shot at that general’s son. Kill him, and I’ll introduce you to Li Hanlin. Fail to kill him… well…”
Wei Wei remained silent.
As Xu Fengnian theatrically brushed dust from Wei Wei’s clothes, he whispered, “Wang Linquan’s money is my money. Wang Linquan’s Laoshan is my Laoshan. Did you really think all of Qingzhou belonged to the Qing party? Someone will already be preparing to accuse me of violent misconduct on the Spring Spirit Lake, of insulting Jing’an Wang and striking his heir Zhao Xun. But when you go out to shoot, remember to be thorough. I can guarantee that none of the ladies at that table will spread rumors. What do you say?”
With a bow, Wei Wei strode out of the cabin.
Xu Fengnian sat at a table beside a fair-skinned beauty with an oval face, who was busily brewing tea, her fair wrist gleaming under the light. He joined a group of young noblewomen from Qingzhou, who were seated two by two on long benches. Xu Fengnian patiently waited as she brewed the first serving of tea, his eyes shamelessly wandering over each girl’s face and figure. Most were only passably pretty, but the tea-brewing maiden beside him had nearly eighty points of charm. He boldly draped an arm around her slim waist—not only that, but beneath the table, he playfully tapped his foot against her dainty feet like a delicate lotus root. Turning to glance at the blushing beauty of Qingzhou, he smiled and asked, “Could this humble prince ask your honorable name? I have a peach blossom fan with a beauty painted upon it, and I’d love to paint you upon it next, to be played with every day.”
Every day?
All the gathered beauties at the table turned their eyes toward the oval-faced young lady, their gazes filled with teasing envy.
Though the woman in Xu Fengnian’s arms came from a reputable family and usually carried herself with the boldness of a man, she now found herself overwhelmed by such open flirtation. She did not dare pull away, nor did she want to. With modestly downcast eyes, she pretended to focus on the fire. Her family background was no simple matter. Out of the four pillars supporting the Liangyang Dynasty, the Qing party was the smallest, but its voice was not soft—the dynasty held twelve senior generals and grand marshals, four of which were from the Qing party. Among them stood her family’s venerable elder, a grand marshal who had served in the Ministry of War, the Ministry of Revenue, and the Ministry of Personnel over thirty years, leaving legions of students and subordinates in his wake. Revered as an unshakable figure in two generations of court politics, there was a saying that the only person who had witnessed more court beatings than the old prime minister was this so-called “unshakable one” himself.
Finally, Xu Fengnian tasted the tea and drank heartily, treating it more like wine than partaking in any refined appreciation, “If you ladies feel cold beds tonight, just let me know—I’ll personally bring thick quilts to warm you all.”
Naturally, this was followed by a series of knowing glances and blushing giggles.
The oval-faced tea brewer stole a secret glance at Xu Fengnian’s profile, sensing something hidden in his expression that left her momentarily lost in thought.
Xu Fengnian turned and asked, “What’s on your mind?”
With a gentle, mysterious smile, she shook her head.
After the tea and the laughter around the table, Xu Fengnian excused himself and stepped out of the cabin, heading toward the bow of the ship. Yu Youwei had not boarded the Yellow Dragon Pavilion Boat. Jiang Ni and the Old Sword Sage were standing nearby.
Wei Wei had already shot an arrow through the man surnamed Zhao—a fellow scoundrel with whom he had shared brotherly toasts just the day before—and was now slumped at the stern of the ship, staring blankly at his massive bow.
Xu Fengnian laughed and asked, “Are you getting your sea legs now?”
Jiang Ni sneered, “You must really have enjoyed that tea.”
Xu Fengnian pulled out a Beiliang-style arrow embedded in the hull of the ship, idly leaning against the railing as he gazed out over the vast lake, “It wasn’t all that special—it couldn’t compare to the Spring Spirit Tea I drank on Laoshan.”
Jiang Ni asked emotionlessly, “Are you really going to Xiangfan?”
Xu Fengnian nodded.
Jiang Ni frowned, “Aren’t you afraid that Prince Zhao Heng of Jing’an will unleash thousands of men to crush you into dust?”
Xu Fengnian chuckled dryly, “If the heir son of the Northern Liang King were to die within the jurisdiction of Xiangfan, the blame would be too heavy a burden for Zhao Heng to bear. Had he been truly ruthless back then, unwilling to waver like he did, the world might have already belonged to him. Zhao Heng has had decent luck as a feudal prince, yet he always seems to fall just short of success. He has ambition, otherwise he wouldn’t have declared that with power in his grasp, he would bless the entire land. His abilities are not lacking either. When Xiangfan was breached all those years ago, only twenty thousand dying citizens remained. Once the flags changed hands, the city was deserted as those twenty thousand desperately crawled away, leaving Xiangfan as a dead city. Under Zhao Heng’s rule, embracing the Huang-Lao philosophy of wu-wei (non-interference), the population has now recovered to hundreds of thousands, and the term “strategic heartland of the realm” has become truly fitting. The title “Jing’an Wang” was granted wisely—Zhao Heng is widely loved by the people of Qingzhou, being perhaps the most beloved of the seven regional princes. Who am I afraid of? Zhao Heng might even worry about someone framing him, so he may end up requesting a personal guard detachment to ensure my safety. Don’t you agree, little Ni Ni?”
Jiang Ni looked perplexed, “That must be nonsense.”
But the Old Sword Sage calmly chuckled, “The young Xu isn’t lying.”
Xu Fengnian bent the Beiliang-standard arrow slightly in his hands and suddenly laughed, “They say Xiangfan still harbors ten thousand restless spirits that refuse to leave the city. Little Ni Ni, you better be careful when we arrive.”
At that, Jiang Ni’s face paled instantly, her voice sharp but empty, “Any curses will fall on you, not me! If it weren’t for the Grand Marshal’s ruthless siege, refusing to offer mercy or a path to survival, Xiangfan would never have become a city of ghosts!”
A decade under siege, where people were sold by weight like livestock.
A loving mother would cut her own flesh to feed her children; a cruel father would throw his child into a boiling pot. Every inch of wall was stained in blood. Every inch of grass and tree whispered sorrow. The dark, oppressive energy of Xiangfan was beyond imagination.
Ten years of battle, forbidden from being recorded by any scholar or historian by imperial decree.
How unspeakably tragic was the truth?!
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