The horse carriage that rolled out from the Jing’an Prince’s Mansion appeared plain at first glance yet concealed wonders within. The interior walls were lined with first-rate sandalwood, and in the compartment was a golden censer mounted on a base of jade, its delicate fragrance quietly wafting. After Princess Fei boarded the carriage, she placed the book titled “First Snowfall” beside her, gracefully folded her legs, resting her plump round bottom upon her thighs, and adroitly lit the aromatic incense without uttering a word.
Prince Jing’an Zhao Heng and his heir Zhao Xun sat face to face. With eyes closed, Zhao Heng was rotating a string of prayer beads, reduced now to one hundred and seven bodhi seeds. No matter what transpired, Zhao Heng would open his eyes only after finishing his chants. Even aware of his father’s zazen-like meditation, Zhao Xun dared only glance at his nominal mother with sidelong glances, a complex gaze that he quickly drew back, Dare not gaze any longer.
Prince Zhao Heng chanted a hundred, a thousand prayers before opening his eyes. As they approached the Prince’s Mansion, he calmly and evenly spoke: “Xun’er, do you know your mistake?”
Zhao Xun, sitting upright, answered with guilt: “I understand.”
Zhao Heng did not press further nor expose the matter. He lifted the curtain slightly to glance outside the carriage and said in a dispassionate tone: “It seems even I misjudged that lad. All due to my unnecessary interference, I made an ill-advised move.”
At this point, Prince Jing’an’s expression darkened as he cast a sidelong glance at Princess Fei, who sat demurely with eyes lowered. She sat there like a puppet, displaying no reaction at all, which only increased his irritation. Gripping the rosary beads tightly, he took a deep breath and turned to Zhao Xun: “On Spring God Lake, you sought to take advantage of the chaos and strike a fatal blow while implicating the Qing Party scions. You’ve got the wit, but your timing is lacking finesse. Do you even understand who Xu Fengnian is? The crippled Xu relies on him to uphold Beiliang’s might. Do you really imagine that a handful of servants, along with Ning Emi and a hundred cavalry, would be enough? Then you truly underestimate this world of martial cultivation. Without that old martial cultivator surnamed Li, how many times Xu Fengnian would have died already?”
Zhao Xun lowered his head: “Your Majesty is absolutely right.”
Zhao Heng furrowed his brow, suppressing within the kind of ire that chanting alone cannot dispel. He waved away the overpowering scent of incense and continued slowly and softly: “Back at the capital, things are lively. The crippled Xu will most likely get his wish, successfully securing an hereditary title for his son, but the title of Grand Marquis will probably slip beyond his grasp. Moreover, Gu Jiantang’s journey north to Liangguang was orchestrated by the emperor himself, forcing that crippled Xu into submission. The thirty thousand ironclad warriors in Liangguang under Beiliang’s command, the crippled Xu will have to remove himself from. Beiliang may still seem impregnable, but Zhang Biyan might settle for the status quo, while the remnants of the fallen kingdoms will likely jump on the opportunity to crush a drowning dog. I wonder, how much blood and flesh will the crippled Xu lose in this dogfight? This group of fame-seeking old curs, that’s all their worth and capability.”
When Zhao Xun heard his father’s scathing remarks about the exiled ministers, he naturally smirked with disdain, regaining the composure befitting the heir of a feudal prince. Once upon a time, the empire had thirteen provinces of people—though now they’ve mingled with the populace of the seventeen provinces from the Spring and Autumn Eight States—yet in their hearts they still maintained an innate sense of superiority. If ordinary people could feel this way, how much more so for Zhao Xun, a small elite group who deemed all under heaven as their personal belongings by birthright? Besides Zhao Heng, among the Six Regional Lords, except for the most inept Huainan King, the others all participated in the great Spring and Autumn War, earning military merit to varying degrees and carving out their dominions. After the war, didn’t each feudal lord end up with several concubines and servants from the defeated emperors? Guangling King alone had one empress and two consorts. In their eyes, then, what status could those remnants of fallen nations ever hold? Even if you are skilled and have once earned great military glory, who would be foolish enough to venerate you like a bodhisattva? Sitting at the same table would already seem to sully their eyes.
After descending from the carriage, heading back into the estate, Prince Jing’an ignored the countless servants kneeling at sight as he passed through corridors and approached a Buddhist hall. Zhao Xun silently turned and left, while Zhao Heng entered a dimly lit grand hall where a statue of the Sandalwood Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva stood. When Princess Fei hesitated and turned as if to go, the prayer beads in Zhao Heng’s hand, already missing one, snapped with a bang. The beads clattered onto the silent white jade floor of the hall, an eerie sound echoing. Zhao Heng, having destroyed the very string tethering his horse restraint, revealed no pretense anymore. His gaze locked onto the princess, filled with fury as he spat: “Stand still! You shameless creature, do you want to lose your soul if you speak a little longer with that crippled Xu’s brat?!”
Princess Fei did not retort, willingly enduring the humiliation. At this moment, she seemed like the statue of the bodhisattva inside, stripped of all humanity. Outsiders spoke of how lucky she was as the orphaned scion of the Fei family to be wed into the Jing’an Prince’s Mansion, but her pale, silky white skin was renowned. Rumors in the world claimed Prince Jing’an had a refined taste, harboring a jade figurine three feet tall, with tales of him snuggling the beauties alongside the doll, finding her even more enchanting than the jade itself—a fantasy enough to make every wandering rogue drool.
Prince Jing’an did not let go. He stepped forward, seizing a handful of her black hair, dragging her into the shrine, and then throwing her harshly onto the ground. He screamed in rage, “Fei Nanwei, what part of me doesn’t deserve you, you lowborn hussy? All these years, have you ever once regarded me as your husband? Do you even know who I am?!” he roared. “I am one step away from the Dragon Throne—one step! Who in the world deserves to wear the Dragon Robe more than I do?!”
Princess Fei, her hair scattered like a blooming blue lotus on the floor, finally raised her head and retorted flatly, “If I’m such a lowly woman, how could you deserve me?”
Zhao Heng’s expression froze, his eyes losing their venomous glint. He squatted down and tried to caress her cheek gently, his voice softening: “Wei’er, did I hurt you?”
Fei Nanwei turned her head aside and whispered: “No pain.”
Zhao Heng grew furious at her evasive motion, and with a swift slap, he struck her with such force that the dignified princess fell sprawling onto the cold floor. Rising abruptly, he barked, “You, Fei! You’re as lifeless as the dead. If you dare to show such defiance, why don’t you go die? Why didn’t you die with your father back then? You could’ve jumped into a well! There are sixty-four wells in the mansion. Or hanged yourself? How much silk and brocade have I given you over the years! Hit your head against a pillar—everywhere in the mansion you could choose. Don’t worry, after you die, I’ll bury you with great ceremony!”
Fei Nanwei didn’t even glance at the wolfish prince; she gazed sorrowfully toward the statue of Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva, known for his legendary robe covering great mountains, and coldly said: “I’m afraid of death, so I married you.”
Zhao Heng was filled with infinite disgust. Without turning, he turned his back toward the woman he couldn’t truly understand even after years of watching, and harshly said: “Get out!”
Fei Nanwei rose to her feet, straightened her hair and clothes, and after bowing politely, she walked out of the Buddhist hall. As she passed the threshold, she asked: “Should I accept the string of beads from Beiliang’s heir?”
Zhao Heng sneered: “I still have enough tolerance for that. You may keep it. I know your painting skills are exceptional, just don’t paint that brat’s portrait and use the beads for lewd purposes. If you want to degrade yourself, I won’t see it and thus won’t be troubled. But if you defile the prayer beads and anger the Bodhisattva, then all the blessings I’ve prayed for you these years will be in vain.”
Fei Nanwei replied indifferently with a quiet “Oh.”
The moment she left, Zhao Heng transformed completely, his focus now undivided as if the arduous chapter at home had merely flipped past in an instant. Sitting on a round cushion woven from fragrant grass, he coldly snorted and sinisterly murmured: “Crippled Xu, do you really think I dare not touch your son? Hereditary succession? I’ll make your twenty years of meticulous plotting turn into a colossal joke!”
※※※
When Jiang Ni wanted to read, Xu Fengnian barely restrained his patience long enough to hear her read two thousand characters before looking for Yu Xiaowei to go out with her, planning to take her to the Fishing Platform in Xiangfan for sightseeing. There were several old Daoist priests from Tian Shou Monastery within the Fishing Platform, and Xu Fengnian hoped to personally ask them about information regarding Huangman’er’s situation at Dragon and Tiger Mountains. He wasn’t entirely satisfied with the exchanged letters written by the Taoist priest Zhao Xituan. Yu Xiaowei wore a gorgeous embroidered robe purchased from the Qingfu Brocade Shop in Laoshan, designed in a classic Xichu style, described as piling red silk into a charming melancholy. Unfortunately, in Xu Fengnian’s eyes, it was somewhat overly modest. He wasn’t keen on Yu Xiaowei’s exposing her bosom, yet he disliked that the robe revealed not even the faintest hint of allure. Yu Xiaowei, naturally a seductive beauty, especially with her ample, snowy curves in the chest, was a rogue’s delight Xu Fengnian had both seen and savored. With her so heavily covered, even the slightest opportunity for fantasy was obliterated. Fortunately, with the beloved white cat she carried nestled close to her chest, just enough of the natural beauty was accentuated. Xu Fengnian chuckled to himself: “You’re worth every penny, Wu Meiniang.”
After they stepped outside, Xu Fengnian considerately asked, “Have you seen the view of Shouyang Lake yet?”
Yu Xiaowei shook her head.
So, Xu Fengnian first took her slightly out of their way to walk along the Bai She Causeway. It seemed all scenic spots related to immortals were mostly associated with swords, never with blades. For example, Bai She Causeway was named after a terrestrial immortal hundreds of years ago who had been displeased by a white serpent causing havoc on the lake, and who slashed it with his sword in anger. After its death, the serpent’s massive body became a long embankment. Bai She Causeway was thus named, and similarly so for the Spring God Lake. As for those who wielded blades? They had no future prospects at all. Carrying this self-mocking train of thought, Xu Fengnian walked along with Yu Xiaowei, drawing plenty of attention. Many poets and literati strolling by the lake exerted themselves mightily to compose verses or sing songs, hoping to capture the attention of the enchanting lady clutching the white cat. Alas, Yu Xiaowei remained completely indifferent.
Xu Fengnian teased playfully, “Are you upset with me for not having you listed among the two rankings of beauties from the Crimson Rouge( Crimson Rouge means rouge and is used to refer to beautiful women) lists?”
Yu Xiaowei merely shook her head.
Xu Fengnian smiled and asked, “Logically speaking, your father was a scholar of the Upper Shade Academy, so you should have been fond of aristocratic young scholars. Yet back in Beiliang, I never heard of any poetic exchanges between you and any young literati?”
Yu Xiaowei spoke softly, “Because I know that those who claim to disregard rulers and nobility, refusing to farm or respond to the Emperor’s decree, would actually go mad upon receiving any imperial summons. And those self-proclaimed heroes who boast about striking a dragon with one sword are actually afraid of even killing a chicken. What poetic conversation could I possibly have with them?”
Xu Fengnian nodded in agreement, “That’s true. Indeed, I’m better off—frankly buying words with money as a vulgar brute. That’s why they say a man should speak only three-tenths of his thoughts, reserving seven-tenths for conquering the world.”
Yu Xiaowei remained silent, lowering her head.
After a leisurely stroll past Shouyang Lake, Xu Fengnian mounted a fine horse that Lü Qiantang had led over. There were only five horses in total, and he conveniently did not give Yu Xiaowei the chance to ride one alone. After getting on, the Young Lord held onto the beauty, while the beauty held onto the white cat, forming a charming picturesque scene along the street.
Riding all the way to the city gate and ascending to the city platform, he learned that several old Taoist priests who had been guarding the Fishing Pavilion at Dragon-and-Tiger Mountain had already left Xiangfan. It turned out that the Heavenly Talisman had burned away by itself, hence the joyous atmosphere among the citizens. Xu Fengnian climbed to the fishing terrace. City guards wouldn’t dare to stop the Young Lord, and after entering the magnificent city walls, Xu Fengnian observed the city’s layout, while Yu Xiaowei gazed at the vast expanse of Spring God Lake. Meanwhile, Xu Fengnian consulted Ning Emi about urban warfare tactics if the city gates were broken through. Ning Emi, a cavalry expert by nature, had gained military merit in border wars against the Northern Barbarians by collecting their heads. In most battles, they confronted each other on open plains. Regarding the Young Lord’s inquiries about urban warfare, Ning Emi could only offer vague insights from veteran soldiers’ anecdotes. However, Xu Fengnian still listened attentively, nodding occasionally. When unclear points arose, he always delved deeper into the details, resulting in Ning Emi, who only had a superficial understanding of street fighting, ending up exchanging blank stares with the Young Lord.
Clad in casual attire, the towering Ning Emi finally seized a moment of respite. Seeing the Young Lord looking into the distance, he inquired carefully: “Prince, why do you ask about these matters? There won’t be opportunities for siege warfare on the Beiliang border.”
Xu Fengnian smiled faintly and said: “Books and secret techniques—anything written, if I want it, it should be within my reach, easy to obtain. But for those things not recorded in books, even if they are trivial matters, it is precisely their rarity that makes them invaluable to me. Besides, even if we don’t wage sieges now, doesn’t our thirty thousand iron cavalry dream of conquering the Northern Barbarians one day?”
Ning Emi, a mighty general wielding a double Halberd like a bear, felt a sudden surge of awe.
Xu Fengnian turned and asked: “General Ning, did the Jing’an Prince accept the sandalwood box I sent through you?”
Ning Emi nodded: “He has received it.”
Gazing afar at the distant Jing’an Prince’s Mansion in the city, Xu Fengnian murmured: “It doesn’t matter if you’ve seen through my plan. The person most bitterly sworn against the Emperor in the capital isn’t you—no, it’s precisely you.”
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