After the grand military review on the city walls and the plaque-hanging ceremony, Governor Li Gongde led Xu Fengnian to the General’s Mansion near the southern gate. The main imperial road stretched from north to south, with civil and military offices flanking the mansion on both sides. Along the way, Li Gongde, one of the two chief city officials, chattered incessantly, detailing the height of the main city walls, the length of the fortified passages, the number of mounted crossbows on the battlements, and the stockpiles of arrows and armor—all with the precision of someone reporting how much silver was in which chest or how many copper coins were in which cabinet.
Governor Li could even rattle off specifics like how many Northern Mang catapults could concentrate their fire on any given section of the wall or how many Northern Mang soldiers could swarm the defenses. He was equally versed in troop movements along the central axis, how to establish secondary defenses if the main gate was breached, and how cavalry could assist in critical moments. Even Xu Fengnian was impressed, let alone Chu Lushan and Yuan Zuozong, who exchanged glances in surprise. Generals like Zhou Kang and Gu Dazu were wide-eyed. Previously, Lingzhou had been known as “power in the Zhong family, wealth in the Li family,” and while the Northern Liang officials knew Li Gongde was shrewd in both governance and wealth accumulation, few had expected him to be so meticulous in execution.
As they approached the still-unfinished General’s Mansion, Li Gongde suddenly chuckled. “The construction of Jubei City has exhausted the giant timber stockpiled from the deep forests of Western Shu and Southern Zhao, and the quarrying of stone has nearly hollowed out the Dayu Grotto. Not to mention the distant sources—just look south from the heights, and you’ll see that the twin peaks of Longshou and Huwei are gone. From the initial garrison troops moving north to build the city, to later rotations of border forces, and countless civilians from within the passes…”
Here, the old man paused, smiling knowingly.
Li Gongde, a civil official once despised by Northern Liang’s military officers, now radiated an unshakable confidence, a far cry from the sycophant he had once been in the Qingliang Mountain council hall. Back then, apart from Chu Lushan—who shared his mentor and was then of low rank—no one wanted to associate with the governor of a single province. The scholar Yan Jiexi naturally disdained him, and even Tian Peifang, the former Liangzhou governor, had refused to call him a brother. When Northern Liang decided to build Jubei City, everyone assumed the young prince didn’t truly intend for Li Gongde to oversee it but was instead exiling the governor who had muddled Lingzhou’s politics. They thought it was a pretext to demote him and pave the way for Xu Beizhi, Chen Xiliang, or Chang Sui. Yet, against all odds, Li Gongde had firmly established himself in Jubei City. Song Changsui, Tian Peifang, and Wang Linquan, the three deputy supervisors in charge of specific tasks, all deferred to him without any attempt to sideline him. And Li Gongde, true to form, quickly adapted to his role. It had to be said that the man who rose to lead Northern Liang’s civil officials was no slouch when it came to practical matters. He immersed himself in every detail, from surveying and rammed earth to materials, military logistics, and grain storage. As he once confided to Song Changsui, “I’ve cut off all social distractions, eating and resting alongside soldiers and craftsmen. I’ve gained insights into every aspect—though I wouldn’t claim omniscience, I’m no layman either. Now I can command with confidence, ensuring no major missteps.”
Li Gongde suddenly added with a sly grin, “Your Highness, for tonight’s victory banquet, Qingliang Mountain must foot the bill—no skimping!”
To everyone’s astonishment, the usually silent veteran general Yan Wenluan chimed in, “Governor Li’s request is entirely reasonable.”
Xu Fengnian pointed to the Northern Liang’s chief financial officer beside him and laughed. “Our money manager here has the final say now—his word carries more weight than mine.”
Xu Beizhi hesitated, then nodded with a smile. “Very well. I’ve held back a chest containing two calligraphy pieces by the great Sui Ying of the Dafeng Dynasty, an imperial green Duan inkstone from the Southern Tang, a ‘Wang Wu’ jade seal from the late Qin era, and about fifteen other items. Selling them for five or six thousand taels shouldn’t be hard. After the banquet, Jubei City can borrow from Qingliang Mountain’s reserves first. Once I sell these, we’ll cover the deficit and have some left over—all to be handed to Governor Li.”
At this, everyone knowingly turned to look at the young prince.
Xu Fengnian rolled his eyes.
The hall erupted in laughter.
Truly, Xu Beizhi was the only one in the world who dared openly mock the new Prince of Liang.
The victory banquet was divided into three grand feasts. The military officers split into two groups: one included veterans of the Spring and Autumn Wars like Yan Wenluan, Chen Yunhui, He Zhonghu, Liu Yuanji, and Lin Doufang, with Yuan Zuozong—the youngest—joining them. For the Xu family and Northern Liang’s border forces, Yuan Zuozong was indispensable. In military matters, he was the only one who could rival the White-Clad War Saint Chen Zhibao. Though Northern Liang boasted many famed generals, Chen Zhibao had openly admitted that Yuan Zuozong was the most underrated commander of the Spring and Autumn era.
The other military group was led by Northern Liang’s Protector-General Chu Lushan, including figures like Wang Zhi, Cao Xiaojiao, Hong Xinjia, and Hong Biao. Deputy Military Governor Yang Shenxing also attended.
The third feast was hosted by Li Gongde, Huang Shang, and Tian Peifang, primarily for scholars and literati, with several Lu family members in attendance.
Xu Fengnian drank his way through all three banquets, downing cup after cup of green ant wine—though in total, it amounted to only two small jugs, as no one pressed him too hard. This wasn’t surprising. Xu Xiao had once said, “The worst kind of people are those who bully others into drinking just because they can hold their liquor. Wine should be enjoyed at one’s own pace—otherwise, it’s just misery.” Of course, Xu Xiao himself had been notorious for pressuring those who drank less, concocting all sorts of excuses: “You won so many battles—drink one for each! And don’t forget the losses—I’ve kept count. If you don’t drink these penalty cups, you’re asking for trouble!” Or, “I heard your grandson just started school—that calls for a drink!” Or, “Your son got beaten up over a woman? How humiliating for you—drown your sorrows!” Yet despite his relentless urging, Xu Xiao never left a Qingliang Mountain banquet sober—he always drank until he vomited. In that sense, his drinking etiquette was… passable.
Don’t assume martial men, accustomed to life and death, drink more recklessly. When scholars let loose, they outdo even the boldest warriors. Xu Fengnian nearly didn’t escape the banquet unscathed. Huang Shang, head of the Qinglu Academy, insisted they each down three full cups. Then the recently retired Tian Peifang piled on, saying, “Three cups are too many—I’ll settle for two with His Highness.” If not for Xu Beizhi’s intervention, even Xu Fengnian’s capacity for seven or eight catties of green ant wine wouldn’t have saved him from collapsing.
Finally, the slightly tipsy Xu Fengnian and Xu Beizhi left the mansion, walking slowly north along the main road.
Xu Beizhi said softly, “Before he got drunk, Li Gongde bought something from me.”
Xu Fengnian raised an eyebrow, amused. “The sun rose in the west today? Our Governor Li has always collected only gold and silver, scoffing at antiques and curios.”
Xu Beizhi smiled faintly. “It was a small private seal. Since it came from the Listening Tide Pavilion’s vault, the material was naturally exquisite. Over generations of use, the vermilion ink had seeped beautifully into the stone. But that’s beside the point. Do you know what was engraved on it?”
Xu Fengnian chuckled. “How could I guess?”
Xu Beizhi flicked his sleeves, as if dispelling wine fumes or melancholy. “Four characters: ‘A subject’s heart is like water’—meaning integrity and purity. If Yan Jiexi had stayed in Northern Liang and bought this seal, or even the decently reputed Tian Peifang, I wouldn’t have been surprised. But for Li Gongde to buy these words… isn’t that ironic?”
Xu Fengnian frowned.
Xu Beizhi asked, “Then guess how much he paid for them.”
Xu Fengnian realized, “Ah, so this was his way of discreetly covering the banquet’s costs without overstepping?”
Xu Beizhi held up two fingers.
Xu Fengnian grinned. “Twenty thousand taels? In the past, the only person who could pry silver from Li Gongde was Li Hanlin. That rascal always paid for their brothel visits, though he’d get an earful from his father afterward.”
Xu Beizhi shook his head, smiling. “Two hundred.”
Xu Fengnian stared. “Two hundred taels? This Uncle Li!”
He burst into laughter—the first time he’d called Li Gongde “Uncle Li.” At heart, the two generations of the Xu family (Xu Xiao and Xu Fengnian) and the two generations of the Li family (Li Gongde and Li Hanlin) shared deep bonds. To put it bluntly, when Yan Jiexi defected from Northern Liang, Xu Xiao had initially intended to make things slightly difficult for him—nothing excessive, but certainly not letting him leave unscathed. In contrast, Li Gongde had long been courted by the imperial court. The late Grand Secretary Zhang Julu had once wanted him as Minister of Revenue, overseeing taxation in Guangling and Jiangnan. At the time, Li Gongde was merely a provincial governor—though equal in rank to a ministry post, capital officials were always considered a grade higher, especially a powerful minister so close to the emperor. So while Yan Jiexi’s departure was a pleasant surprise for the court, Li Gongde’s decision to stay was baffling. As for Xu Fengnian and Li Hanlin’s childhood friendship—that went without saying.
Xu Beizhi smirked, then enunciated a single word through clenched teeth: “Million!”
Xu Fengnian thought he’d misheard. “What?!”
Xu Beizhi exhaled softly. “Two million taels.”
He continued, “Li Gongde told me he’d scrimped and saved his entire life to amass this fortune, originally intending to ensure his son Li Hanlin would never want for anything. But now, he said, it’s unnecessary.”
Xu Beizhi turned to Xu Fengnian, raising a fist to thump his own chest. “That’s how the old man gestured to me. He said, ‘My son, Li Hanlin—a captain of Northern Liang’s White Horse Scouts! What does he need my silver for?’”
He stopped walking, looking back at the mansion, repeating Li Gongde’s final words: “In this life, I, Li Gongde, can be looked down upon by anyone—but never by my son!”
Xu Fengnian rubbed his face lightly. “Orange, do you think I should recall Li Hanlin from Liuzhou?”
Xu Beizhi snapped, “Bullshit!”
Xu Fengnian laughed, gazing westward toward Liuzhou. “Li Hanlin would say the same.”
※※※
North of Qingcang City in Liuzhou, Kou Jianghuai and Xu Longxiang had launched their second frontal assault against Huang Songpu’s forces.
Of the 1,200 White Horse Scouts dispatched to Liuzhou, only half remained.
Captain Li Hanlin now led 600 surviving comrades.
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