“Since entering the palace, I have never left Sui’an City, only occasionally making appearances. The number of times I’ve crossed hands with others is few, and those who remember me are even fewer. In recent decades, that scholar named Cao Changqing was quite…”
The young eunuch suddenly fell silent, as if unsure how to describe the refined and noble Confucian scholar from Western Chu in his memory.
In the end, the young eunuch did not pass final judgment on Cao Changqing of Western Chu, merely skimming over the topic. He raised his head and looked at Xu Fengnian, asking for the first time with genuine intent, “Would you ever usurp the throne and declare yourself emperor?”
Xu Fengnian answered frankly, “Because of Xu Xiao, I will not become emperor. But if Xu Xiao were to pass and my master could live another ten years, I would fight for him.”
The young eunuch stared into Xu Fengnian’s eyes and nodded. “Both of us are sincere.”
Xu Fengnian, the King of Northern Liang, showed his sincerity by speaking plainly, while the eunuch demonstrated his by voluntarily leaving the capital to come to Northern Liang.
At the time when Xu Fengnian wreaked havoc inside and outside the Qin Tian Jian, the young eunuch did not intervene, likely because the situation in the Central Plains had not yet reached the point where Northern Liang’s decision could determine the fate of the empire.
As expected, the young eunuch smiled and said, “Had I known this earlier, I wouldn’t have let you leave the capital.”
Xu Fengnian chuckled, “Back then, it wouldn’t have been easy for you to keep me.”
The young eunuch pondered for a moment. “At that time, Hong Xixiang’s lingering soul was by your side, and Deng Tai’a was watching from the sidelines. It truly wouldn’t have been easy.”
The young eunuch extended a hand.
Xu Fengnian took the cue and sat on the edge of the well.
The young eunuch sighed. “People who can sit down and calmly discuss matters are becoming fewer and fewer. I’ve seen many men whose higher their rank or greater their military power, the more they lose their original selves. Almost all the emperors of Liyang were like this.”
Xu Fengnian grinned. “When you say such things, your killing intent rises even as your aura fades. Isn’t that inappropriate?”
The young eunuch replied calmly, “Am I not speaking of myself as well?”
Xu Fengnian sighed helplessly. “Setting aside martial prowess, in terms of thick skin, we are evenly matched.”
The young eunuch looked up at the darkening sky, where low-hanging clouds foretold an approaching storm.
He turned to Xu Fengnian. “In Tai’an City, over these decades, I’ve seen the young Xu Xiao and Zhang Julu. I didn’t particularly like either of them. When Xu Xiao first entered the palace as a minor general, he exuded an aura of cutting down gods and buddhas alike. Zhang Julu, after years as a low-ranking official in the Hanlin Academy, still carried an air of solitary purity amidst the corruption of the court. Cao Changqing entered the palace three times—I knew, but never appeared.”
“By contrast, I found Huan Wen more agreeable. A man of great intelligence who feigned ignorance all his life, always kind to others. I met him alone in the palace twice, decades apart. The second time, he recognized me at once but pretended otherwise, merely greeting me with a smile.”
“Among the emperors of Liyang, the current young emperor Zhao Zhuan has the most grace—though only in comparison to his predecessors.”
Listening quietly, Xu Fengnian smiled. “So that’s why you came to Northern Liang?”
The young eunuch shook his head. “As long as the throne remains with the Zhao family, it doesn’t matter if it’s Zhao Zhuan or not.”
Then he added flatly, “Unfortunately, your surname is Xu, not Zhao.”
As these words fell, a light drizzle began to fall, softening the outlines of the cobblestone street.
※※※
The well stood at a corner of the street outside the posthouse, so from the upper floor, Chen Wang could just make out the scene.
Despite the rain and darkness, Chen Wang recognized the young man by the well.
After a moment’s hesitation, Chen Wang descended, only to find Xu Beizhi already seated on the threshold, blocking his path.
Xu Beizhi, holding a flask of wine, mused aloud, “Said he wouldn’t come, yet here he is—then leaves without meeting the host. Seems this seemingly ordinary coachman is anything but.”
Chen Wang said gravely, “Xu Beizhi, don’t stand in my way. That man’s power is beyond your imagination—perhaps even beyond your prince’s!”
Xu Beizhi took a sip of wine, unfazed. “Oh?”
“Xu Beizhi, perhaps Xu Fengnian fears no one in this world, but the man he faces now is the exception!” Chen Wang’s urgency was palpable. For the famously composed Chen Shaobao to be so agitated spoke volumes.
Xu Beizhi turned with a smile. “Care for a drink to steady your nerves?”
Chen Wang nearly cursed but, meeting those clear eyes, sighed deeply and took the flask, downing a fierce gulp of Lüyi wine.
Xu Beizhi didn’t take the flask back but gazed toward the street’s end, murmuring, “That guy and I fought our way back from Northern Mang to Northern Liang, brushing with death more than once—like when we were cornered by Dibing Mountain’s Fifth Mò. Yet I never doubted we’d make it. Deep down, I felt that as long as I stayed by his side, even if the sky fell, he’d be the first to curse and prop it up. He’d die before we did.”
Xu Beizhi grinned. “Just as he’d never tell me how highly the Liyang court regards me, I won’t tell him this either.”
Suddenly, he slapped his thigh. “Damn it! Back in Longjing County, when we faced Zhong Hongwu, I was dead drunk—he carried me home. Hope I didn’t spill any drunken secrets!”
Chen Wang was torn between laughter and exasperation. At a time like this, you’re worried about that?
Then Chen Wang recalled a minor detail from the Ministry of Revenue archives: in Northern Liang, the close friends Xu Fengnian and Xu Beizhi never addressed each other as brothers. Xu Fengnian was “Persimmon,” Xu Beizhi “Tangerine.”
Had their relationship existed not just in Northern Liang but in the imperial court, it might have been hailed as a model of ruler-subject harmony.
Chen Wang thought of the current emperor and smiled wryly.
He sat on the threshold and drank, the unfamiliar taste of a hometown brew he hadn’t touched in over a decade.
Yet he felt Northern Liang had nurtured him, while Liyang had given him opportunity.
Can one serve both home and country without failing either?
Or would he fail both, as he had failed her?
Chen Wang tilted his head back and drained the flask.
Xu Beizhi suddenly said, “Minister Chen, perhaps one day you’ll return to your roots.”
Chen Wang tightened his grip on the flask. “Never again.”
Regret often begins with “see you again,” while fortune lies in truly meeting again.
Alas, regrets outnumber fortunes.
Chen Wang repeated, “Never again.”
※※※
The young eunuch rose slowly, resting a hand on the well’s windlass. “Your father, Zhang Julu, Cao Changqing, you—and those forgotten elders of Liyang’s past—are all cut from the same cloth. I dislike you all, yet if I search my heart, the reason is envy.”
Lost in memory, he continued, “The Qinmian Hall, where Zhao princes were educated, has existed since Liyang’s founding. I once admired scholars greatly and often went to listen. Much I’ve forgotten, but some lines remain: ‘The wind and rain are chill and drear, the wind and rain are bleak… Amidst the gloom, I see the noble one…'”
“Amidst the gloom, I see the noble one!”
Returning to the present, the eunuch looked down at the young prince still seated on the well. “In my heart, Cao Changqing and his kind are noble—and so are you. Thus, alive or dead, I am glad.”
As the rain grew heavier, his smile widened. “Perhaps being deemed noble by a nameless eunuch means little?”
Xu Fengnian stood. “Being called noble is always welcome. But seeing you brings me no joy.”
The eunuch smiled. “If you’re unhappy, shall we fight?”
Xu Fengnian grinned. “My thoughts exactly. Better to settle things with fists than words. If that fails, we can always sit back down and talk.”
The eunuch’s eyes gleamed with approval. “No wonder you boast of thick skin. I see it now.”
Xu Fengnian looked up at the leaden sky. “Someone once told me: in this world, thick skin gets you far.”
Just then, Fan Xiaochai, unable to bear being a mere spectator, drew her Liang blade and charged through the rain.
Mi Fengjie couldn’t stop her.
A closer look would reveal each raindrop striking her robes carried profound intent. Though her initial steps were light, within a dozen paces, it was as if a mountain pressed upon her, forcing her to bend forward.
On this street, each drop was a fragment of truth.
Drip by drip.
Crimson threads seeped from Fan Xiaochai’s orifices, yet she surged onward, each footfall heavier than the last.
Without turning, Xu Fengnian flicked his sleeve, sending her crashing into a wall.
Blood and rain mingled down her back.
Mi Fengjie glanced at her, eyes filled with dread and resignation.
The young eunuch extended an arm, palm upturned. Raindrops striking his hand didn’t splatter but rebounded in spiraling arcs, forming a perfect circle.
He smiled. “I’m not much of a fighter… but I’ve never lost.”
Xu Fengnian rested his left hand on his Liang blade. “I may be younger, but I’ve fought more times than you… and I’ve never died.”
Never lost—spoken with quiet supremacy.
Never died—sounding like a jest, yet no one would dare laugh.
On this small street stood two terrestrial deities.
One the youngest, one the oldest, separated by centuries.
Amidst the gloom, they saw nobility.
Yet they would still fight.
The old eunuch nearly cursed aloud. Weren’t noble men supposed to argue, not brawl?!
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