After two months, Xu Fengnian finally returned from beyond the pass in the depths of winter, just as heavy snow was falling. Barring any surprises, this would likely be the last snowfall of the second year of the Xiangfu era in Northern Liang.
Entering the city late at night, neither Xu Fengnian nor Xu Beizhi rode in a carriage. Behind them marched eight hundred White Horse Righteous Retinue, clad in white armor atop white steeds, blending seamlessly into the snowy night.
On this snow-melting morning, Xu Fengnian draped himself in an old fox fur coat he hadn’t changed in years and left the now-expanded Wutong Courtyard. Alone, he made his way to the pavilion at the heart of the Listening Tides Lake, leaning against a pillar as he gazed at the water. He had heard that earlier, two women in the residence had treated the lake’s lotus flowers like tiny wishing wells, often tossing copper coins into the water. Before long, the lake’s surface had become riddled with holes like a beehive. In his youth, the four Xu children of Qingliang Mountain—two boys and two girls—along with Xu Xiao himself, had never seemed overly dominated by feminine presence. But now, things were different. He and Huang Man’er were rarely at Qingliang Mountain, while the number of women had grown significantly. Beyond Lu Chengyan and Wang Chudong, there was also the crimson-robed Xu Ying, the sable-capped Hehe Girl, the stunning Chen Yu, the little girl Chen Xiliang had brought with him when he came to Liang, the green-robed woman left behind by Yu Xinlang, and even the daughter of Huyan Daguang, who occasionally sneaked onto Qingliang Mountain to play. Even within Wutong Courtyard, there were now seven “female scholars” tasked with reviewing documents—nominally second- or third-tier maids, each named after one of the seven household necessities: firewood, rice, oil, salt, sauce, vinegar, and tea. It was likely Lu Chengyan’s idea, and compared to the names he had given the maids in his youth—like Green Ant, White Wine, and Cucumber—it was equally whimsical, a clear continuation of the same spirit.
Xu Fengnian had stayed late the previous night in the offices of Song Dongming and Bai Yu. For routine matters—even critical ones involving the promotion of fourth- or fifth-rank officials—as long as they didn’t touch on sensitive military affairs, he had granted the two considerable autonomy. Thus, much of the night had been spent with Song and Bai conducting what resembled routine imperial memorials, while Xu Fengnian played the role of the “nodding overlord.” However, one thorny issue had been deliberately saved for last by Deputy Chief Administrator Song Dongming. At the time, Bai Yu, the “White Lotus Scholar,” had sipped tea with a knowing smile. The problem? After Lu Chengyan was confirmed as the principal consort of Northern Liang, her father, Lu Dongjiang—once a celebrated scholar of the Central Plains—had begun angling for the position of Liangzhou’s governor. The incumbent governor, Tian Peifang, whether out of prudence or necessity, had submitted his resignation upon returning from Jubei City to Liangzhou. With the governor’s seat now open and the deputy governor stationed outside the pass, the division of power between “inner” and “outer” governors was all but inevitable. This sudden shift had emboldened Lu Dongjiang, who had initially only coveted the deputy governor’s role, to aim higher, leveraging his daughter’s status to seek the third-highest civilian position in Northern Liang’s bureaucracy. Xu Fengnian had no easy solution and could only stall. He was well aware of the Lu family’s conduct since their arrival in Liang—most of their scholars were either incompetent or, in the rare cases of talent, not yet ready for rapid promotion. But Lu Dongjiang saw things differently. Even though Xu Fengnian had compensated the Lu family with the construction of the new city, Lu Dongjiang clearly felt this was beneath the dignity of the Lu clan, a prominent family from Qingzhou. Unfortunately, Northern Liang was not the imperial court—there was no Hanlin Academy to house idle scholars, nor honorary titles to hand out. Ultimately, the reality was that Xu Fengnian’s Northern Liang simply couldn’t afford to give the Lu family the prestige they desired.
Xu Fengnian looked up to see Bai Yu approaching leisurely. He didn’t rise formally but merely straightened slightly. Before entering the pavilion, Bai Yu stamped his feet on the steps to shake off the snow. The two sat facing each other, and Bai Yu spoke first with a smile, “Since my youth in the mountains, I’ve witnessed several grand snowfalls in the south. But it wasn’t until I came to Northern Liang that I realized how incomparable northern snow truly is.”
Xu Fengnian smiled faintly. “Xu Xiao once told me the snow in Liaodong is even heavier—so thick that ‘goose-feather snow’ doesn’t do it justice.”
Bai Yu chuckled. “‘Snowflakes as large as hands’—the Great General’s poetry is legendary, even as far as Dragon-Tiger Mountain.”
Xu Fengnian’s lips curled. “The civil officials here all say Xu Xiao is hard to please because flattery always backfires. Only my second sister’s teacher, Imperial Academy Chancellor Wang, knew how to do it right. The secret is simple: abandon all dignity and never put on scholarly airs. Anything too profound or subtle would just confuse Xu Xiao, leaving him struggling to respond. Chancellor Wang was blunt—two terrible chess players, evenly matched, yet he’d praise Xu Xiao with lines like, ‘What a masterstroke! Such boldness!’ Of course, Xu Xiao ate it up. Oh, and Huang Man’er’s master, Zhao Xituan, also knew how to stroke Xu Xiao’s ego. On his first visit, he declared Huang Man’er a born genius, handsome and dignified—‘truly the Great General’s son,’ and so on. Even I couldn’t stand it at the time, convinced the old man was a fraud. I even sent dogs to scare him. Looking back now, the saying ‘true masters are unassuming’ couldn’t be more accurate.”
Xu Fengnian, as if unable to stop himself, continued, “When I first went to Wudang Mountain to train, I met the old sect master, Wang Chonglou. Having heard all the legends of his ‘single finger parting the river,’ I was in awe of this Daoist immortal of Northern Liang. And at first glance, he did seem every bit the transcendent sage—until he gave himself away. Guess how?”
Bai Yu shook his head.
Xu Fengnian grinned, eyes crinkling with charm. “I asked him if he’d really parted the river with one finger. The old man shook his head and said no—then held up two fingers and said, ‘Two.’ At the time, I was stunned, impressed, and fascinated. But I also realized that beneath his immortal aura, he was delightfully down-to-earth. You should’ve seen his expression when he said ‘two’—trying so hard to play the aloof sage but failing miserably. In hindsight, he was just an old man who’d done great things in his youth and was thrilled to be remembered, especially when praised to his face. He couldn’t hide his joy.”
Bai Yu said softly, “The Heavenly Master’s Manor is different.”
Xu Fengnian gazed at the lake, murmuring, “Later, I realized Xu Xiao was the same kind of old man. But in my youth, I never praised him to his face—only cursed him, even chased him to beat him, always trying to humiliate him. Back then, I blamed him for my mother’s death, telling myself my lack of manners was his fault, not mine.”
Bai Yu’s gaze drifted past Xu Fengnian’s shoulder to the lake beyond. After a long silence, he said slowly, “My parents died during the Hongjia Northern Flight. Because they were major patrons of Wudang Mountain, I was taken there afterward.”
Xu Fengnian asked, “No resentment?”
Bai Yu replied frankly, “At first, plenty. Commoners and scholars alike, when reading history, blame only the treacherous ministers for misleading the emperor in tales of fallen kingdoms. So we couldn’t resent the emperor, nor the loyal ministers enshrined in the new ‘Records of Loyalty,’ nor the generals who died in battle. In the end, the only target left was your father—the Great General Xu Xiao, the ‘Butcher of Men.’ A child witnessing the destruction of his country, seeing familiar faces in every corner—how could I not resent him?”
Xu Fengnian fell silent.
Bai Yu suddenly sighed. “In the end, it turns out there was no one to resent.”
Whether it was that there *should* be no resentment or that resentment was futile, Xu Fengnian didn’t ask.
Bai Yu turned to look at the path leading to the pavilion, where a graceful figure had appeared. Spotting them in the pavilion, she veered onto the frozen lake, walking farther away.
Bai Yu smiled apologetically. “It seems I’ve spoiled the mood. Otherwise, the prince might have been face-to-face with her—a sight more captivating than any scenery.”
Xu Fengnian glanced at the retreating figure and sighed. “There’s nothing between us.”
Bai Yu’s expression turned skeptical.
Xu Fengnian sighed again. “Truly.”
Bai Yu watched the figure and joked, “What a pity.”
Xu Fengnian smiled without reply.
As the two enjoyed the quiet scenery, the estate steward, Song Yu, hurried over to announce the arrival of Military Commissioner Yang Shenxing, who had recently come to Liang. Xu Fengnian instructed him to bring the commissioner to the pavilion.
Bai Yu chuckled. “Commissioner Yang has had a rough time in the city lately. His residence is practically under siege—scholars hurling books at the gates, commoners throwing stones over the walls. I’ve even heard of cleavers being tossed in. His servants are terrified, treating it as a living nightmare.”
Seeing Bai Yu rise to leave after speaking, Xu Fengnian abruptly said, “White Lotus Scholar, why not stay and join me in receiving Yang Shenxing?”
Bai Yu, halfway up, hesitated before sitting back down.
When Yang Shenxing strode up the steps, he saw the young prince sitting wrapped in furs, while an elegant scholar he didn’t recognize stood to greet him with a warm, genuine smile.
After Xu Fengnian introduced them, Yang Shenxing was stunned to learn this was the “White Lotus Scholar,” the outsider Heavenly Master of Dragon-Tiger Mountain personally honored by the late emperor. His heart warmed at the realization. When Bai Yu casually mentioned dropping by the commissioner’s residence for a drink someday, Yang Shenxing—whether taking it as courtesy or sincerity—felt an immediate kinship. Since arriving in Liangzhou, he had kept his doors shut, knowing that stepping outside would make him a target of public scorn. Not a single Liangzhou official had visited him, and even his own servants sometimes eyed him with disdain. His visit to Qingliang Mountain today was a last-ditch effort—he had previously sent a secret letter begging Xu Fengnian to notify him upon returning to the city. Whether he could enter the prince’s residence, or whether Xu Fengnian would even allow it, was a matter of intense scrutiny in Northern Liang’s political circles. Success wouldn’t guarantee Yang Shenxing power, but failure would doom his future. He had come today expecting little—just enough to save face. Bai Yu’s presence, however, was an unexpected boon. As a veteran of the imperial court, Yang Shenxing could read Northern Liang’s political winds from mere whispers among his servants. The selection of the principal consort and Governor Tian’s resignation might seem unrelated, but the subtle connections were telling. Tian was currying favor with Lu Dongjiang. With the precedent of the Lingzhou governor’s replacement, he had chosen to step down voluntarily rather than be forced out later, ingratiating himself with the Lu family—and by extension, the future Governor Lu Dongjiang and Consort Lu Chengyan.
The three conversed pleasantly in the pavilion, avoiding state affairs in favor of lighter topics.
When they parted, Bai Yu personally escorted Yang Shenxing out of the estate.
Standing at the gate, Bai Yu watched the commissioner leave with a knowing smile.
Since Song Dongming, as deputy chief administrator, wielded more power than even Li Gongde, Xu Fengnian’s approval of Lu Dongjiang as governor would earn the Lu family’s gratitude—and they would need an ally in Qingliang Mountain. Faced with choosing between the scholarly Lu Dongjiang and the merchant Wang Linquan, Song would naturally prefer the former. Bai Yu, however, had no such luxury of choice. But with Yang Shenxing now in the picture, his position had shifted. Though the commissioner currently held no sway in Northern Liang’s politics, that could change. As long as the war with the Grasslands continued, a shrewd Yang Shenxing would eventually rise. And whenever his residence bustled with visitors in the future, Bai Yu would be remembered as the one who had befriended him in his lowest hour—a benefactor in times of need, not a fair-weather guest.
As Bai Yu stepped toward the gate, he suddenly paused, turned back, and descended the steps to gaze up at the grand entrance.
The White Lotus Scholar studied the imposing plaque and the soon-to-be-replaced spring couplets flanking it, thinking of the young man in the pavilion. He murmured to himself, “Northern Liang, the empire, this world—with you, Xu Fengnian, is it a case of ‘charcoal in snowy weather’?”
※※※
As Bai Yu, lost in thought, walked back into the estate along the lakeshore, he nearly cursed aloud at the scene before him.
The very man who had sworn there was “nothing” between him and the beauty from the *Rouge Ranking* was now strolling side by side with her on the frozen lake.
Worse, upon spotting Bai Yu, the scoundrel had the audacity to wave cheerfully instead of showing guilt.
Bai Yu muttered under his breath.
From the distant lake, Xu Fengnian burst into laughter.
Chen Yu asked curiously, “What is it?”
Xu Fengnian grinned. “The White Lotus Scholar thought I couldn’t hear him from here. But I caught every word.”
Chen Yu pressed, “What did he say?”
With a straight face, Xu Fengnian replied, “He praised my dashing looks and admitted he paled in comparison.”
Chen Yu nodded. “Oh.” Then she turned and walked straight toward Bai Yu.
Xu Fengnian gaped.
Left alone on the lake, he finally laughed.
Looking around, everything was peaceful.
This was Northern Liang—where women, whether stunning or plain, and men, whether scholars, warriors, or commoners, all lived safely. The sounds of reading, hawking, hoofbeats, snores, and quarrels thrived in lively harmony.
Xu Fengnian tucked his hands into his sleeves and gazed at the sky.
Everything this young man had done was for one simple wish: that the world would no longer blame the Xu family for the chaos of the Spring and Autumn Era.
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