Chapter 1006: Li Yishan

Xu Fengnian stood up and set down his brush, leaving the letter addressed to Fengxiang Military Town only half-written. He exchanged a brief greeting with Yang Shenxing, leaving the desk temporarily empty. The deputy military governor, whose cultivation in the public sphere was no less profound than Li Gongde, calmly acknowledged with a serene demeanor.

Xu Fengnian dismissed the leader of the Fushui Fang spies back to the interrogation chamber and, alone, led the veiled woman to the study adjacent to the second hall’s signing office. As he gently closed the door behind them, the woman removed her veil, revealing a face so stunning it could be called city-toppling—a beauty capable of illuminating even the humblest study. Indeed, her appearance was nothing short of celestial. In the entire city of Jubei, only Jiang Ni, whose beauty rivaled nations, could truly overshadow her.

When Xu Fengnian had read the spy’s lip movements earlier, the name that flashed in his mind wasn’t the more predictable “Dongyue” but the relatively obscure “Dongyue.” This was the true reason for his caution—indeed, it was the culmination of a long, secretive wait. Xu Fengnian had been anticipating this moment even before he inherited his title. His solitary journey to the Northern Desert as the heir apparent had merely been the final move of the opening phase. Even after the first grand, soul-stirring battle in the Northern Desert had concluded and the second raged fiercely, it was still only the mid-game of this grand chessboard of the Spring and Autumn era. Only with the arrival of this woman did the true endgame begin.

The world knew that in the Southern Territories, Nalan Youci—who resembled a feudal lord more than even the King of Yan, Zhao Bing—was the last surviving strategist of the Spring and Autumn period. He was often accompanied by five stunning maidservants with peculiar nicknames: Fengdu, Dongyue, Xishu, Sanshi, and Chenglü—five names, ten characters in total.

She was Dongyue, one of Nalan Youci’s maidservants. Facing the young and most powerful non-royal prince of the Liyang Dynasty, she remained utterly composed, smiling faintly. “Since Your Highness is so tense, you must already know of my master’s early schemes with those now-deceased individuals. That’s even better—saves me the trouble of explaining.”

Xu Fengnian did not sit. Instead, he stood near the plain yellow poplar desk, not bothering to offer her a chair either. The two faced each other as he cut straight to the point. “The pieces my mentor selected—including the former Northern Court Grand Minister Xu Huainan—are all dead now. Who remains on your master’s side?”

The maidservant Dongyue chuckled. “Why don’t you guess, Your Highness?”

Xu Fengnian narrowed his phoenix eyes, his expression darkening.

She ignored his glare, clicking her tongue. “The Central Plains now sings praises: ‘Ten years to cultivate Song Yushu, a hundred for Xu Fengnian, a thousand for Lü Dongbin.’ Yet Your Highness’s current demeanor falls short of such lofty repute.”

The Spring and Autumn era’s nine kingdoms were but a single game of chess. The Hongjia Northern Exodus, serving as the curtain call for the Spring and Autumn wars, was both the endgame and the opening move. Four scholars from opposing factions had, as if by telepathy, joined forces to orchestrate this grand scheme: Huang Longshi, the top strategist of the Spring and Autumn era; Li Yishan of the Listening Tide Pavilion; Li Yishan of the Southern Territories; and Yuan Benxi, the imperial tutor of Liyang.

Since the founding of the Great Qin, the northern steppe cavalry had repeatedly invaded the Central Plains, forcing its people to retreat southward in what history would later term the “Southern Migration of the Gentry.” Examples included the “Liu Clan’s Flight to Shu” at the end of the Yongxi era and the “Ganlu Southern Crossing” after the fall of the Dafeng Dynasty. The mighty Chu Jiang clan, regarded as the orthodox successor to Dafeng’s legacy, owed its legitimacy to the fact that over seventy to eighty percent of the three hundred noble families during the Ganlu Southern Crossing had relocated to the Guangling River region.

Yet the Hongjia Northern Exodus, divided into two waves and two routes, was the exact opposite—a migration from south to north. The first wave, consisting mostly of refugees from Dongyue, Hou Song, and Hou Sui, was understandable, whether voluntary or forced, as they settled near the Liyang capital. But roughly half a year later, an even larger exodus erupted. The most resilient, the Chu; the decadent, the Southern Tang; the most nostalgic, the Western Shu; along with remnants of the Northern Han and Great Wei—dozens of streams converged northward, ultimately gathering in what is now Liangzhou, Youzhou, and Hezhou of the Liang and Huai regions. They barely managed to flee into the Gusai and Longyao provinces of the Northern Desert’s Southern Court just before the infamous “Butcher” Xu Xiao was enfeoffed as the Prince of Northern Liang.

Amid this, several deeply concealed masterstrokes emerged. One was when Xu Xiao, then enfeoffed as a non-royal prince by the old Liyang Emperor Zhao Li, suddenly declared he would exterminate all Western Chu scholars, their corpses blocking the mouth of the Guangling River. The Battle of Xilebi had been so brutal that both the defeated Chu Jiang clan and the victorious Xu Xiao harbored immense resentment. When the ascendant Xu Xiao publicly uttered these words in the imperial court of Tai’an City, it not only shocked the court but also plunged the already shattered Chu remnants into deeper despair. The crippled Xu was clearly denying them even the chance to live as peaceful dogs—what choice did they have but to flee?

Another was when Zhao Bing, Zhao Li’s son, who by merit should have governed the Western Chu territories, ended up not in the wealthy Guangling Circuit nor the strategically central Qingzhou of Jing’an Circuit. Initially, Zhao Li had intended to send this “most resembling myself” son to Huainan, likely to have the battle-hardened Zhao Bing neighbor the sole non-royal prince, Xu Xiao, after the latter’s enfeoffment in Northern Liang was finalized. Yet in the end, Zhao Bing—who had once considered the frontier beyond Liaodong—was sent to the most unexpected place: the Southern Territories, a vast but barbaric land rife with miasma. Rumors claimed the bloodthirsty Zhao Bing, before leaving the capital, hacked down a thousand-year-old cypress in his princely residence, vowing to slaughter all Southern Tang men taller than a cartwheel in his fury. Coincidentally, during Zhao Bing’s southward journey, the Southern Tang—which had hardly resisted fiercely in the late Spring and Autumn period—suddenly rebelled, killing thousands of Gu Jianfeng’s garrison troops. Zhao Bing, who had initially planned to toy with the newly enfeoffed Prince of Guangling, Zhao Yi, was forced to hasten his march south.

The third masterstroke was Xu Xiao’s early enfeoffment but delayed assumption of his fief.

The first two moves went unquestioned by the world, but the imperial tutor Yuan Benxi watched coldly, pleased with the outcome. The Zhao clan he served sought true peace, necessitating the uprooting of those “century-old states, millennium-old families.” Under the dual threats of the two powerful princes, these noble families obediently relocated to the Liyang capital under the emperor’s watch, ensuring “all talents enter the Zhao family’s urn” while eliminating future threats—preventing uprisings by displaced remnants and securing the northern campaign against the steppes without southern worries.

Yet at this juncture, an unexpected twist arose. Xu Xiao’s army marched westward at a snail’s pace, pausing for a full month in Jizhou. By the time Yuan Benxi and the court realized something was amiss, they dispatched Cai Nan, the top general under Minister of War Gu Jianfeng, stationed in Jiangnan, to intercept the sudden northwest-bound refugee wave and redirect them east to Tai’an. However, Cai Nan’s forces, lacking sufficient cavalry and unfamiliar with the northwest terrain, ultimately failed to halt the torrent of Spring and Autumn remnants.

The Han family of Jizhou, generations of border defenders against the steppe cavalry, met their doom for their inaction during this crisis. Though the old Liyang Grand Secretary—Zhang Juzheng’s mentor and father-in-law—had personal grievances with the Han family, attributing their fall solely to him overestimated his political clout and underestimated his integrity. The truth was, the court dared not openly blame the distant Northern Liang border army, so they scapegoated the nearby Han family. Additionally, they installed fellow Spring and Autumn veteran Yang Shenxing in Jizhou and stationed Cai Nan at the Northern Liang border, squeezing the retreat routes of the Northern Liang cavalry.

In this chess game, four strategists sat at the four corners of the Central Plains, moving pieces as grandmasters.

Ultimately, the one to lift the final piece from the board was the inexplicably Northern Desert-bound heir of Northern Liang.

In the study, only the faint scent of books lingered as the man and woman fell into prolonged silence.

Suppressing his agitation, Xu Fengnian spoke as calmly as possible. “Is Wang Sui, the son-in-law of Dongyue, one of Nalan Youci’s pieces?”

The woman widened her eyes, her surprise genuine. “Didn’t Mentor Li mention this to you?”

Xu Fengnian’s heart lurched, but his face remained impassive. “No.”

The sharp-witted maidservant instantly grasped the truth. “Ah, so Mentor Li changed his mind before his passing.”

Tilting her head, she mused, “If Mentor Li no longer wished you to shoulder this burden, why do you persist?”

Xu Fengnian’s voice turned icy. “People are dying everywhere in Northern Liang. I don’t have time for your games.”

She glanced at the young prince’s hand resting on his saber hilt and smirked, her expression eager. “Northern Liang blades are hailed as the ‘Xu Style’—the standard all warriors emulate. Might I take a look, Your Highness?”

Xu Fengnian sneered. “Can the dead wield swords?”

Feigning terror, she clutched her chest. “Such hostility! No wonder my master said of the northwest frontier—”

A sudden, thunderous crash interrupted her.

The stunning young woman was pinned against the door, her flawless forehead pressed by a relentless palm.

Blood trickled from her lips as she met his gaze. At first, she managed a mocking smile, but when she saw the barely restrained fury in the prince’s eyes, she faltered.

On the brink of death, she inexplicably recalled her master’s jest: “At their angriest, scholars wish to sever all warriors’ sword arms, and warriors wish to sever all scholars’ book-holding hands.”

Just as she thought Xu Fengnian might kill her to bury the secret, a measured knock sounded. The prince’s expression transformed instantly into a warm, guileless smile. With a disdainful glance at her, he released her, shoving her against the wall before opening the door gently.

Wiping her bloody lips, she turned to see a face even more breathtaking than her own. The young woman who entered scanned the room, spotted her, and scrutinized her from head to toe before feigning ignorance adorably. Holding a teapot, she said nonchalantly to Xu Fengnian, “Hehe said you had a guest, so I brought tea.”

Xu Fengnian’s eye twitched.

Jia Jia, the ever-perceptive girl in the residence, must have added that the guest was a beautiful woman.

Otherwise, Jiang Ni wouldn’t have cared if Xu Fengnian’s visitor was the Liyang Emperor or the Northern Desert Khan.

Jiang Ni, as if just noticing the woman by the wall, lifted the teapot. “Thirsty? Care for some tea?”

Dongyue deliberately adjusted her collar, biting her lip as if traumatized, playing the victim flawlessly.

Jiang Ni’s eyes widened. She stealthily stomped on the prince’s foot and twisted hard.

Dongyue watched as the poor prince took a deep breath, then placed a hand on the beauty’s head—infinitely gentler than the palm that had pinned her. He chuckled, “What nonsense. This well-preserved auntie is from the Southern Territories, Nalan Youci’s maidservant, here on official business. We sparred earlier, and I accidentally hurt her.”

Jiang Ni eyed the pale woman skeptically, but the term “auntie” eased her suspicions slightly.

She tossed the teapot to Xu Fengnian and turned to leave.

As he reached to close the door, Jiang Ni spun back abruptly. “Why shut the door in this heat with the windows closed?”

Xu Fengnian retracted his hand sheepishly. “Fine, fine. It stays open.”

She muttered just loud enough to hear, “If you’ve nothing to hide, why not shut it properly?”

Sighing, Xu Fengnian shook his head and set the teapot on the desk. Producing two white porcelain cups bought from a Jubei market, he gestured to Dongyue. “Sit. Have some tea.”

After a pause, she pulled up a chair and sat across from him.

Their earlier confrontation might as well never have happened. The study was now serene.

All thanks to the woman who had brought the tea.

Dongyue’s thoughts were complex.

In today’s Central Plains, even in the so-called “world’s most virtuous” Tai’an City, countless bold noblewomen had nearly eloped to Liangzhou just to catch a glimpse of Xu Fengnian. This was no exaggerated rumor.

Life is but a fleeting century, and in that century, Xu Fengnian was forged.

This new King of Liang had indeed achieved enlightenment, albeit by an unorthodox path.

She had never believed that any man in the world could surpass her master in charm, but today, witnessing it firsthand, though she still felt he fell short, the gap was not as vast as she had imagined.

Xu Fengnian leaned forward to pour her a cup of tea.

A woman’s heart is as deep as the sea. The maidservant Dongyue, who had earlier been subtly sparring with the young prince, straightened her expression and did not reach for the teacup. Instead, she spoke slowly, “Before my departure, my master told me that the matter of the chess pieces was only a tacit understanding between him and Mr. Li of the Listening Tide Pavilion. After parting ways on the road to Tai’an City years ago, they never had any further contact. My master also said that because Mr. Li had once spoken candidly, he deduced the identity of the chess piece Mr. Li had chosen. Given Mr. Li’s caution, it could only be Xu Huainan—and indeed, Xu Huainan proved to be the most unexpected, rising to become the Northern Court King of the Northern Wilderness. My master added that, given Xu Huainan’s contradictory nature, this piece might not last till the end. Of course, Xu Huainan would never betray the secret—at most, he would simply choose to withdraw.”

Xu Fengnian nodded. “When Xu Huainan saw me by the Ruoshui River back then, he could have lived. Yet the old man chose to die. Perhaps he did not believe Liang could defeat the Northern Wilderness. Rather than face the shame of betraying both the Central Plains and the Northern Wilderness’s empress, rather than endure disappointment, he preferred to close his eyes and do nothing.”

The maidservant Dongyue lifted the teacup, took a slow sip, and said softly, “My master said his chess pieces were far less significant than Mr. Li’s, and there were more of them—exactly ten. But twenty years later, most had perished: three from illness, two by suicide, and two more executed by the assassins my master planted among them for treason. Thus, this journey to Liang is my master’s message, delivered by me, Dongyue. As Your Highness guessed, Wang Sui is indeed one of my master’s most carefully placed pieces. But this former son-in-law of the Eastern Yue royal family, one of the Four Great Generals of the Spring and Autumn Era, is much like Xu Huainan—hesitant and indecisive. Compared to the other piece hinted at in my name, Wang Sui is more self-interested and harder to control.”

Xu Fengnian fell into silent contemplation.

Her expression grew solemn. “As for the other, Your Highness must remember this man: his name is Wang Du, once calling himself the Hermit of the Hills. Though the old man himself achieved little in the Southern Court, his family nurtured a young man who cannot be underestimated—Wang Jingchong, now the Winter Nabu of the Northern Wilderness! And the Wang family’s loyalty to the Central Plains is beyond doubt.”

Xu Fengnian frowned. The Southern Court’s border general Wang Jingchong was no stranger to Liang’s frontier army—he was currently leading his elite troops to Gusai Province to intercept Yu Luandao’s isolated cavalry!

Xu Fengnian suddenly asked, “And the third surviving piece?”

She shook her head. “Regarding this one, my master said the time has not yet come to reveal him.”

Xu Fengnian was taken aback, then laughed at himself. “Must I first defeat the Northern Wilderness?”

She answered frankly, “My master did not say, so I do not know.”

Xu Fengnian did not press the maidservant further. Knowing the identities of Wang Du and Wang Jingchong was already an unexpected boon.

She did not finish her tea. Standing, she said, “My master’s final words were this: Huang Longshi ultimately chose the Prince of Yan’s heir, Zhao Zhu, as the true Son of Heaven. That is why the Southern Army could march north so smoothly. My master hopes Your Highness will guard the Northwest with peace of mind. When the time comes, aiding Zhao Zhu in achieving the unprecedented feat of incorporating the vast grasslands into the new Liyang territory will surely not go unrewarded for Your Highness and Liang’s frontier army.”

Xu Fengnian dismissed it with a laugh.

Before leaving, she blinked, her lips curling slightly as she whispered, “After all that talk of ‘my master said,’ I’d like to add something of my own… Your Highness is even more handsome than I imagined.”

Far from looking pleased, Xu Fengnian immediately turned frantic, calling out toward the window, “Jia Jiajia, don’t you dare tell Jiang Ni about this!”

The bewildered maidservant Dongyue only faintly heard a soft chuckle from beyond the window behind her.

Xu Fengnian rubbed his forehead and sighed.

He was doomed.

Dongyue picked up her veil hat again and curtsied to the young prince, who had risen to see her off. With understanding gentleness, she said, “There’s no need for Your Highness to escort me.”

Xu Fengnian glanced at the teapot and smiled wryly. “At this rate, forget tea—I’ll be lucky if I’m not drinking poison next.”

She left with a smile.

Exiting the princely residence, she mounted her horse under the escort of the Fushui spies and rode away from Jubei City. Glancing back at the towering walls, she was suddenly overwhelmed with sorrow, her eyes brimming with tears—whether for her master or someone else, she could not say.

Inside the city, Xu Fengnian walked alone to the military office of the residence and sat back in Yang Shenxing’s chair, resuming his letter-writing.

Suddenly, he set down his brush and looked outside.

This secret meeting had indeed revealed many truths from Nalan Youci’s maidservant—all heartfelt words from Nalan Youci himself. Yet it was possible that among them lay one falsehood, woven for a greater scheme.

And so it was with him—truth and deception intertwined.

But none of that mattered.

What saddened Xu Fengnian was the thought of that gaunt strategist who had confined himself to the top floor of the Listening Tide Pavilion for twenty years—a man of unparalleled intellect who cared for the world. Yet for the sake of his disappointing student, he had cast aside even the fate of the realm.

That man, who had once been so meticulous, had chosen not to explain the grand chessboard—the masterpiece of his life, the Spring and Autumn game he had orchestrated as Li Yishan—before his death. No final words, no written legacy.

Why had he changed his mind at the end?

Xu Fengnian could not understand.

After finishing the letter and handing it to the records office, he took a jug of Green Ant Wine and climbed to the highest rooftop in Jubei City. Sitting cross-legged, he gazed southward.

It was said his master’s southern hometown was a picturesque town with stone arch bridges.

Xu Fengnian did not drink. Instead, he lay back, cradling the wine jug, staring at the sky with tears streaming down his face.

Perhaps only when he secretly thought of Xu Xiao and Li Yishan—only when he remembered them—did this young prince, who seemed to possess everything yet stood to lose it all, allow himself to feel, ever so cautiously, a little aggrieved.