Xu Fengnian left no chance for Lady Xu to write her “Goose Roasting Notes” at night, as Daji Ning Emei, at dusk, led a hundred light cavalry of the Fengzi Camp to rush toward Yingchuan County.
It seemed on the way they encountered conflict with the martial troops under Tang Yinshan, the Vice General of the Eastern Garrison. The cause was that upon seeing the cavalry approaching the city at a distance, Tang Yinshan ordered the city gates to be closed early. Rumor had it that Ning Emei uttered no word, only drawing one short halberd after another from a large sack on his back and hurling them one by one toward the gate. With each throw came a crashing echo. Before Ning Emei cast his final halberd, Tang Yinshan finally yielded and the gates were opened. The hundred light cavalry galloped into the city. With but a single thrust of his iron halberd bearing the character “Bu” (not), Ning Emei unseated the proud Tang Yinshan from his horse and pinned him to the ground with the blade at his chest, rendering him helpless and humiliating him deeply.
After joining with the Young Prince, they departed Yingchuan together. Within the city, Zheng Hanhai, the highest-ranking civilian official, feigned illness and remained indoors. Tang Yinshan’s former comrades-in-arms, old disciples of General Gu Jiantang, dared not show their faces, silenced like caged birds. Only Jin Lanting, the pitiable “Third Young Master” whose home had been turned upside down by chaos, wore a bitter expression as he saw the Young Prince off at the gates. Watching the gallant figure of the Young Prince astride a white horse with twin swords at his waist, and accidentally catching sight of the lady beside him—a wife who insisted on seeing him off—his expression turned dazed, filled strangely with reluctance. The timid Jin Sanlang felt the urge to slap her face, but alas, this woman hailed from the illustrious Xu clan of Yuzhou, the most prominent family in the region. How dare he lay a hand on her? He could not even raise his voice toward her. Despite her failure to bear Jin family offspring, Jin Lanting had to suffer it silently. Even matters of the bedchamber had become a torment. In their marital intimacy, every position had to be decided by her comfort. He still had yet to experience even once the pleasure of the “Old Man Pushing the Cart,” always forced into the exhausting “Old Tree Entwining Roots” position. Being of frail health, Jin found conjugal bliss transformed into bitter toil, suffering despair so profound that death would be preferable—such bitterness had nowhere to go.
Back at the Jin family’s ancestral mansion, the scene was equally bleak. The old patriarch sat in a quiet pavilion beside Zheng Hanhai, who was supposed to be resting in bed due to illness. Several young, pretty maids massaged their shoulders and legs. The two old men exchanged little words. Their families were the strongest hereditary allies in Yingchuan. Otherwise, Zheng Hanhai would not have gone to such lengths to invite the Young Prince to Jin Lanting’s private residence. Yet, it now seemed that they gained not even a smidgen of favor with the Northern Liang Prince’s Mansion. Instead, they suffered Jin Lanting’s double collapse into unconsciousness, their peach trees cut down, white geese roasted alive, their limited collection of Lanting Well-seasoned Xuan paper paper taken entirely, not to mention the hidden shame of their ladies molested and teased. Understanding and forgiving, Zheng Hanhai bore no resentment against his young nephew.
Zheng Hanhai bitterly smiled and said, “I assumed that General Da, such a brilliant man, would surely sire a son capable of understanding the ways of the world. Alas, this time I was overstepping.”
The old Jin patriarch, who had entrusted Zheng Hanhai with hundreds of taels of gold to smooth local Yuzhou politics, pushed aside a maidservant’s delicate hand and rubbed his temples with a sigh, “If it were just a matter of expense—gold or silver, that’s a small matter. But by ostentatiously showing allegiance to that Young Prince, we’ve stirred resentment in those martial men here in Yingchuan. That still wouldn’t be much. Yet, those regional governors and inspectors who hold enmity toward the General watched us with cold eyes and amusement. In the end, it was my mistake, this half-dead old fool driven by foolish hope. I wanted just one gamble, but I ended up dragging you down, Hanhai. Otherwise, your post as the Thin-Clerk Director might still be a toss-up.”
Zheng Hanhai had served for decades as the Jin family invested money and effort unstintingly, enduring several near failures. He had long come to accept that promotion was a matter of fortune—gain it, and I’m blessed; lose it, and it was fated. Having already taken one wrong step with the old patriarch, he couldn’t bear another now in his twilight years with such a wealthy family at odds. Thus, he hurriedly shook his head and laughed, “Old Jin, your words go too far. I assure you that before I retire, I shall secure my nephew Jin’s bright prospects. That young second son of the former Jiuquan Prefect Fan Ping has long eyed my humble Thin-Clerk position. I’ll give it to him. After all, Fan Ping was the former instructor of the new governor Zhu Jun of Heyang. My nephew Jin requires no less talent—so long as there is someone to recognize his worth, he shall rise swiftly.”
The old patriarch smiled in contentment, “Ah, Hanhai, you’ve taken the time to care.”
Zheng Hanhai, still damp from the rain yesterday after following thirty li outside the city walls, tapped the table lightly with his fingers and glanced at the serving maids nearby. The old patriarch understood and waved away the few maids, young enough to be his great-granddaughters, from the elegant pavilion. Only then did Zheng Hanhai whisper, “Old Jin, in recent years, General Gu has placed his former officers one by one in Yuzhou and Quanzhou. We all see it, remaining silent all the while. Combined with Chancellor Zhang’s enmity toward Northern Liang, I wonder—with the Young Prince heading toward the capital at this juncture—whether there’s something deeper here. You, Old Jin, with your penetrating sight, surely understand this better than I. May I ask for some advice?”
The old patriarch’s voice dropped low, “This matter cannot be spoken of, and even if mentioned, difficult to grasp. The ways of Northern Liang… well, let it be. That tree is too lofty for us to reach.”
Zheng Hanhai followed suit in silence.
Suddenly, the old patriarch laughed, “I say we mustn’t underestimate them regardless of how things seem to favor us. That Tang Yinshan, as one of General Gu’s generals, how did he fare when facing Ning Emei, one of the Four Tigers of Northern Liang? Just one halberd stroke.”
Zheng Hanhai’s mood improved greatly as he recalled the incident. After all, Northern Liang’s military might was renowned throughout the land, whether good or ill, it concerned them little. What irked them more were those like Tang Yinshan, who served General Gu Jiantang, swaggering arrogantly in Yuzhou and showing no respect to local aristocracy.
On the following day,
The old patriarch Jin was sketching the “Left Immortal Master Qingyang Stele”, widely circulated among scholars recently, when Zheng Hanhai barged into his study without regard to decorum, shouting joyfully, “Old Jin, good news, great news!”
Never having seen Zheng in such a state, the old patriarch couldn’t help but be curious, setting aside his brush, he asked, “What good news?”
Wiping sweat from his brow, Zheng teased a bit, “Do you know the one nicknamed Lu Qiu’er by the Young Prince? Chu Lushan?”
The old patriarch’s heart tightened. In the lands of Liang, Yu, and Quan and their dozen counties, who didn’t know Chu Lushan? A man infamous second only to the butcher Xu Dazhuguo himself. He was known for drinking fresh breast milk and flaying people alive. In the chaos of the Spring and Autumn wars, although Chu might not have been the bloodiest specter of Northern Liang, he handled all the dirtiest, most secretive deeds for Xu Xiao, his adoptive father. In the destruction of the Eastern Yue and Western Shu states, how many royal consorts had been brutalized at his hand? It was said that six princesses of Western Shu perished from his torture in one night! A seasoned old patriarch like him had already broken into a cold sweat. What reason would there be for good news concerning such a man? Was Zheng Hanhai losing his mind?!
Seeing the old patriarch’s expression, Zheng Hanhai snapped out of his gaiety and laughed hastily, “Old Jin, this really is tremendous good news. Lu Qiu’er, accompanied by the newly appointed governor Zhu Jun, has arrived at my nephew’s house. You know? My nephew Jin is being promoted two ranks at once to become a Huangmen Attendant in the capital!”
The old patriarch was stunned. For his nephew Sanlang, being a capital official had long been his dream. To become a Senior Huangmen Attendant, above the Junior rank, represented an honor of the highest degree for a scholar of refinement. The Huangmen posts were the fundamental stepping stones toward becoming a Grand Secretary. Even Chancellor Zhang Julu, who prided himself as a humble disciple of the old Grand Tutor, had spent no less than sixteen years in the Senior Huangmen role before rising. For scholars from the Shangyin Academy heading to the capital, the Huangmen offices were always their first goal. How fortunate must Jin Lanting be to be appointed directly to the prestigious rank known as the “Little Cabinet”? The old man exclaimed in disbelief, “Is this true? Can this really be true?!”
Zheng Hanhai exhaled deeply, smiling slowly, “Although the formal appointment has not yet been issued, Lu Qiu’er has declared that the Great Commander has already penned a recommendation—it is his personal handwriting!”
The old patriarch slapped his thigh and cried, “The matter is settled! The Senior Huangmen is already ours!”
Who in the heavens dared defy the Great Commander, who rarely issued recommendations?
The Emperor?
The old patriarch did not wish to ponder—and dared not.
At the lakeside of Jin Lanting’s residence, the Third Gentleman Jin knelt on the ground, weeping.
Before him stood two important figures, as different in build as sky and earth.
One was the smiling, half-closed-eyed Chu Lushan.
The other, the nervous new governor Zhu Jun.
As Lu Qiu’er slowly departed the courtyard, struggling to mount his carriage, he paused. Turning back with a smile, he said to the respectfully standing Governor Zhu, “I hear one of your concubines recently gave birth to a fine son. Her milk must be flowing abundantly.”
Governor Zhu Jun, pale-faced with a trembling Adam’s apple, lowered his head and gritted his teeth, “I beg General Chu to come back with me.”
To his surprise, Lu Qiu’er laughed heartily but simply climbed into the carriage instead, replying, “Nay, this journey was for the Young Prince’s affairs—I cannot indulge in such delicacies today.”
As the carriage rolled out, the rumble of Northern Liang cavalry shaking the city, Zhu Jun trembled, staring at the dust trail left behind.
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