All feasts must come to an end. The pair of persimmons and tangerines from Northern Liang, Xu Xiao and Xu Long Xiang, parted ways with Chen Wang. The latter continued his journey home, with the young eunuch naturally still serving as the coachman for this young guardian of the heir. The former, after passing through the perilous Tong Pass—the eastern gateway of Liangzhou—paused briefly before continuing westward. According to intelligence from the Fushui Bureau, the imperial convoy delivering the decree was only half a day’s journey behind the young prince. The three eunuchs from the Seal Office, clad in python robes, could never have imagined that the Northern Liang King, who should have been waiting at Qingliang Mountain to receive the decree, was actually tailing them.
Traveling westward along the well-developed main post road, far more advanced than those in the Central Plains, Xu Fengnian and Xu Beizhi declined the escort of elite cavalry from Tong Pass. Thus, they were accompanied only by Mi Fengjie and Fan Xiaochai as their retinue. The four of them, riding four horses, looked more like wealthy young men leisurely touring the landscape.
Mi Fengjie, already at the Zhixuan Realm through steady cultivation, had gained profound insights from the battle in the rain on Little Street, sensing the loosening of a bottleneck. In contrast, Fan Xiaochai had reaped no benefits—such was the ineffable nature of individual opportunities.
Mi Fengjie took the opportunity to seek Xu Fengnian’s advice on the mysteries of the Tianxiang Realm. In their conversation, he also expressed admiration for the old Sword God Li Chungang’s famed technique, “Two Sleeves of Green Snakes.” Xu Fengnian, well aware of Mi Fengjie’s intentions, was frank with the late-blooming swordsman: while “Two Sleeves of Green Snakes” was undeniably formidable, it was ill-suited to Mi Fengjie’s own sword path, especially at this juncture when changing course would be unwise. After some contemplation, Mi Fengjie understood the reasoning, though he couldn’t help feeling a tinge of regret. Unlike Xu Fengnian, he had spent over forty years honing his sword skills, and his sword techniques and intent had long solidified into a “fixed form.” “Two Sleeves of Green Snakes” required the integration of the practitioner’s essence, energy, and spirit. It wasn’t that Mi Fengjie couldn’t learn it or that he lacked the potential to break through and advance further. But at this critical moment, when he was on the verge of the Tianxiang Realm, it was unnecessary to gamble everything. It was like a court official who had risen to the position of Vice Minister of Works rashly switching to the Ministry of Personnel to start as a mere clerk. Even if the Ministry of Personnel held greater power, the risks were too high, and the outcome uncertain.
Xu Beizhi, having heard Xu Fengnian’s account of the battle in the rain, felt a lingering fear despite his notorious carefree attitude in Northern Liang’s official circles.
When the four riders stopped at a roadside teahouse to rest, Xu Fengnian sipped a bland tea that did little to counter the lingering autumn heat and suddenly said to Xu Beizhi, “After tea, we’ll catch up with the Seal Office convoy.”
Xu Beizhi, who hated the heat more than the cold, fanned himself vigorously with a palm-leaf fan borrowed from the teahouse owner and teased, “What? Planning to make outrageous demands? After getting beaten by that strange eunuch, you’re taking it out on the Seal Office eunuchs?”
Ignoring the sarcasm, Xu Fengnian replied, “I plan to ask the court for an additional Deputy Military Governor and Deputy Administrator for Northern Liang. I’ll give them a heads-up so they aren’t caught off guard.”
Xu Beizhi frowned. “That won’t be easy. Ordinary official appointments are one thing, but the appointments of Deputy Military Governor and Deputy Administrator are ‘General and Ministerial Decrees,’ requiring approval from the Chancellery’s high officials. Although Chen Wang happens to be the Left Regular Attendant of the Chancellery and could technically legitimize it, he wouldn’t have brought his official seal on this trip. Besides, given Chen Wang’s cautious nature, he’d never agree to your impulsive plan.”
Appointments for officials below the third rank had always been handled by the Ministry of Personnel for civil posts and the Ministry of War for military posts. Over the past twenty years, while Xu Xiao was alive, the two ministries had sent Northern Liang over seven hundred blank appointment letters, allowing Northern Liang to select and appoint its own officials, with the court merely rubber-stamping them. This wasn’t unique to Northern Liang—even the weakest fiefdoms, like Prince Zhao Ying of Huainan’s or Prince Zhao Sui of Jiaodong’s, enjoyed similar privileges, though on a much smaller scale. However, appointments for high-ranking officials like the Six Ministers or regional governors and generals, known as “General and Ministerial Decrees” since the Dafeng Dynasty, had to be written by the Chancellery’s chief officials on gold-flowered, five-colored silk paper and submitted to the emperor. The quality of the paper corresponded to the official’s rank. This was why Song Dongming, Northern Liang’s Deputy Administrator, hadn’t been recognized by the Central Plains—he lacked this crucial procedure.
Xu Fengnian chuckled. “Worst case, we’ll have Tai’an City issue a retroactive decree. It’s just a matter of sending a courier.”
Xu Beizhi’s tone was far from Xu Fengnian’s nonchalance. “What will Yang Shenxing think?”
Xu Fengnian shook his head. “I’ve already spoken with Yang Shenxing. The old man seemed relieved.”
Xu Beizhi sneered. “And you believe that?”
Xu Fengnian said calmly, “Perhaps one day, Yang Shenxing will genuinely thank Northern Liang.”
Xu Beizhi turned to order another bowl of tea from the teahouse owner. After the old man left, he asked, “What about your troublesome father-in-law, Lu Dongjiang? Promoted from Liangzhou Governor to Deputy Administrator? Won’t that seem like a promotion in name but a demotion in reality?”
Xu Fengnian set down his tea bowl slowly. “Lu Dongjiang cares more about reputation than power. With Li Gongde repeatedly resigning as Administrator, Lu Dongjiang will only see this as a step closer to becoming Northern Liang’s top civil official.”
At this, Xu Fengnian stared blankly at his empty tea bowl before looking up with a smile. “So it’s settled. You’ll take the Deputy Military Governor post.”
Xu Beizhi absentmindedly agreed, then took a sip of tea before suddenly realizing what had been said. He glared. “Not Liangzhou Governor?!”
Xu Fengnian burst out laughing. “That position is reserved for Bai Yu.”
Xu Beizhi stared at the young prince, gritting his teeth. “Bullshit!”
Xu Fengnian fell silent.
Mi Fengjie and Fan Xiaochai exchanged puzzled glances, unsure why the two had suddenly turned hostile.
Xu Beizhi laughed bitterly. “Do I, Xu Beizhi, need you to arrange an escape route? Need you, Xu Fengnian, to build me a ladder for the future in the Liyang court?”
The second Liang-Mang war would inevitably end in victory or death. If Northern Liang lost, the Liyang court would likely absorb many Northern Liang officials. Most Northern Liang generals would die on the battlefield, with few exceptions like Cao Xiaojiao, who might flee the northwest. As for civil officials, their relevance would diminish after the fall of Jubei City outside the pass. Whether they stayed or left, Xu Fengnian wouldn’t force them. In that scenario, Xu Beizhi, as Deputy Military Governor overseeing Northern Liang’s internal military affairs, would be the highest-ranking military official and thus the most coveted prize for the Liyang Dynasty. The significance of a second-rank general from Northern Liang was now universally recognized. If Northern Liang miraculously won, the Deputy Military Governor title would be the icing on the cake. But by then, how many of Northern Liang’s 300,000 iron cavalry would remain? Only heaven knew. The integration of Northern Liang and Central Plains officialdom would likely be inevitable. The war-ravaged Northern Liang, with its four depleted provinces, would need voices in the court to speak for its people. Chen Wang alone wouldn’t be enough, especially since he couldn’t openly advocate for Northern Liang in the future.
Xu Beizhi, no longer the naive newcomer to Northern Liang’s officialdom, quickly grasped the young prince’s well-intentioned plan. He sighed and said firmly, “Give this opportunity to Chen Xiliang. I’ll pass.”
Xu Fengnian, who had grown increasingly assertive in Northern Liang, surprisingly didn’t insist. He nodded with a smile. “As you wish.”
Mi Fengjie and Fan Xiaochai simultaneously looked up at the sky, where a black dot appeared in their vision.
A majestic raptor descended from the sky, landing gracefully on the small table where the four sat. It affectionately pecked at the young prince’s hand.
Xu Fengnian deftly removed a secret bamboo tube tied to the six-year-old falcon’s leg, gently tipping out the intelligence report. Unfolding it, he smirked as if struggling to suppress his delight.
Xu Beizhi asked, “News from the Western Regions?”
Xu Fengnian handed him the scroll. After reading it, Xu Beizhi sighed. “This time, I can truly breathe easy.”
The report detailed how Cao Wei and Xie Xichui had unilaterally altered the Protectorate’s established strategy for Liuzhou, deciding instead to ambush Zhong Tan’s cavalry at Miyun Pass. The swift courier had relayed the news from Fengxiang to Linyao to Qingcang, then to Qingliang Mountain and Huaiyang Pass, shocking Northern Liang’s high command. Some conservative border generals, if not for fear of offending Xu Fengnian—since Cao Wei and Xie Xichui were his protégés—would have openly cursed. Xu Fengnian had faced immense pressure for diverting significant forces to Liuzhou, especially by appointing young outsiders like Cao Wei, Yu Luandao, Xie Xichui, and Kou Jianghuai as commanders. If the Liuzhou campaign failed, Xu Fengnian’s hard-earned prestige from the first Liang-Mang war would suffer greatly, and Liangzhou, tied to Liuzhou’s fate, would be in grave danger.
Xu Beizhi clicked his tongue. “Those two are real daredevils. They wiped out Zhong Tan’s cavalry right under the noses of the Luduo Mountain monks.”
Xu Fengnian grinned. “Cao Wei and Xie Xichui risked their lives to create this opportunity. We can’t waste it.”
Xu Beizhi snorted. “I know exactly what you’re thinking. Fine, as the acting Deputy Military Governor, I’ll make a trip to Luduo Mountain.”
Xu Fengnian teased, “Changed your mind?”
Xu Beizhi said cryptically, “For me, it’s all the same.”
Xu Fengnian didn’t press further. Turning to Mi Fengjie and Fan Xiaochai, he said, “Escort the Deputy Military Governor to Luduo Mountain. Also, have Fushui Bureau relay a message to Cao Wei and Xie Xichui: after assisting you three in negotiating an alliance with Luduo Mountain, they are free to command their troops without interference from Liuzhou’s Prefectural Office, Qingliang Mountain, or the Protectorate.”
Xu Beizhi abruptly stood. Xu Fengnian asked, “In such a hurry?”
Xu Beizhi rolled his eyes and headed for the horses. Xu Fengnian followed to see him off. As Mi Fengjie paid the teahouse owner, Xu Fengnian suddenly said, “Add some extra coins. I’d like two more bowls of wine.”
Once mounted, Xu Beizhi looked down at the young prince and sternly said, “Remember, don’t get carried away!”
Xu Fengnian feigned innocence. “After all I’ve been through, how could I?”
Xu Beizhi scoffed. “Your grin’s practically splitting your face!”
Xu Fengnian sheepishly kept quiet.
Mi Fengjie and Fan Xiaochai exchanged glances—the old man’s eyes brimmed with amusement at the harmonious scene between ruler and subject, while Fan Xiaochai seemed irked by Xu Beizhi’s attitude.
Xu Fengnian waved the trio off.
Only after they disappeared from view did he return to the table, where two large bowls of coarse Green Ant Wine awaited—one for him, one for the gyrfalcon that Chu Lushan had once trained.
Gently stroking its feathers, Xu Fengnian said softly, “Old friend, take it easy.”
Twice in the Liyang jianghu, once in the Northern Mang jianghu—through countless life-and-death partings, only this old companion had remained by his side.
The teahouse owner, an ordinary man with limited horizons, was astounded by the sight of a bird drinking wine. He couldn’t resist sitting closer and asking curiously, “Young master, what kind of bird is this? It’s magnificent!”
Xu Fengnian took a sip of wine and laughed. “A gyrfalcon from Liaodong.”
The old man, who had never heard of such a bird, nodded. Then he tentatively asked, “Only a wealthy family could afford such a remarkable bird. Your background must be impressive?”
Xu Fengnian grinned. “Absolutely! My father fought his whole life to build our family’s fortune. Now that it’s in my hands, many powerful figures beyond Northern Liang covet it.”
The old man thought the young man sounded like one of those Northern Liang military scions who loved boasting about their fathers’ exploits. Who didn’t know that even the richest men in Northern Liang, especially those from Lingzhou, never dared flaunt their wealth in front of neighboring elites?
Xu Fengnian unhooked a jade pendant from his waist. “Old man, I’m in a good mood today. Let me treat you to wine! I don’t have silver on me, so I’ll leave this as collateral. I’ll have someone redeem it later.”
The old man eyed the pendant skeptically, then the wine-drinking bird, before hesitantly agreeing. He fetched two jars of premium Green Ant Wine that had been gathering dust.
At first, the old man drank moderately, sipping only a quarter bowl while Xu Fengnian downed a full one. Though the old man had a high tolerance—he could easily handle seven or eight bowls—he worried about getting drunk and the young man slipping away without paying. His wife would berate him until New Year’s! Besides, he had a young grandson in the village school, and he’d been saving up to buy the boy the “Four Treasures of the Study” for the New Year. Recently, the boy had mentioned a new teacher from a prestigious academy who spoke of Jiangnan’s beauty—its bridges, streams, and gardens. The old man didn’t understand much, but it filled his hard life with hope.
During the first war beyond the pass, some wealthier villagers had fled. After the victory, they returned, only to face another war. This time, no one left.
The teahouse owner, accustomed to hearing travelers’ tales, had gleaned a simple truth: for centuries, the most powerful unified force from the grasslands, boasting a million cavalry and armor, had failed to breach the Central Plains for twenty years.
Because there was once Grand General Xu Xiao, and now there was the new Liang King Xu Fengnian.
Because Northern Liang had the Xu family, father and son.
The old man didn’t understand the political implications of a prince’s autonomy or the tensions between Northern Liang and the Liyang court. He only knew that no matter how brutal the battles beyond the pass, not a single mounted, sword-wielding Northern Mang barbarian had set foot in Northern Liang in over twenty years.
For unarmed commoners, living peacefully and supporting their families through honest labor—was there anything better in the world? No.
As they drank, the old man grew tipsy and merry.
The young master also got drunk, spouting wild claims—how he’d toasted many generals in his family’s hall as a child, quoting poetry about “calling for wine to celebrate with heroes,” naming legendary figures like Yan Wenluan, He Zhonghu, Chen Yunzhui, Zhong Hongwu, Li Gongde, Yan Jiexi, Chen Zhibao, Chu Lushan, Yuan Zuozong, Qi Dangguo, Yao Jian, and Ye Xizhen.
The half-drunk old man roared with laughter, dismissing it as nonsense.
Finally, the seemingly well-read young man began singing loudly, addressing the Central Plains:
“You see, you see ten thousand carp leaping at Tide Listening Lake!
But have you seen Qingliang Mountain, its countless stone tablets unnamed?
You see, you see skulls piled high at Gourd Pass!
But have you seen the dead beneath the walls, bones stacked like firewood?
You see, you see Liangzhou’s north, where horses neigh in the west wind!
But have you heard the scholars’ voices from broken huts in the south?
You see, you see three hundred thousand iron cavalry, armor unmatched!
But have you seen Northern Liang’s homes, all draped in mourning white…”
Each time the young man sang “You see,” the old man would drunkenly chime in with “Northern Liang” during the pauses.
The old man understood nothing—he just wanted to join the fun.
The young man’s voice was desolate, like…
Like the bare persimmon trees of Northern Liang in winter, stripped of leaves, only dead branches remaining.
In the end, the old man slumped over the table, asleep. The young man staggered to his feet, placing the jade pendant in the old man’s hand and closing his fingers around it before heading to his horse.
Under the setting sun, a lone rider traveled slowly westward.
The young man dozed in the saddle, swaying with the horse’s gait.
To sleep is a little death.
To sleep forever is the great death.
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