The urgent report from the capital was not received by Jiang Wenyuan alone – Zhou Fengxiang, as the Inspector, also got it.
“Your servant receives the decree,” he said, bowing low in salute.
Looking at the imperial edict handed to him, Zhou Fengxiang felt a surge of excitement.
After more than two years, just when his term as the Northwest Inspector was about to end, he finally had a chance to exercise his authority.
Of course, the Emperor had not directly rebuked Jiang Wenyuan. Although he had kept Lu Zheng’s memorial of impeachment on record, the decree that was issued merely ordered an investigation into the military merits of the five men from Maoyuan Mountain.
Moreover, the Emperor had clearly taken Zhou Fengxiang’s position into consideration: he was only tasked with conducting the investigation, while the report itself had to be submitted through Jiang Wenyuan’s office. Since it had to pass through Jiang Wenyuan’s hands, it was a precaution against Zhou making reckless accusations. But if Zhou truly uncovered something, Jiang Wenyuan would not be able to suppress it.
No matter how one looked at it, this was undeniably a tremendous opportunity – an opportunity that would determine whether it would be him or Jiang Wenyuan who stayed, and who was dismissed.
The outcome this time would inevitably affect the entire balance of military and civil appointments in the Northwest.
It was almost like reliving the time of Wang Butang’s case two years ago – except back then, the lives of the brothers from Maoyuan Mountain were the key because they had lived; now, two years later, it was because they had died.
Fate truly has a strange sense of humor…
Zhou Fengxiang was a little lost in thought, overcome by a vague sense of sighing emotion.
The buzzing discussions of his aides in the hall snapped him out of his reverie. He came back to himself, paced a few steps, and began analyzing the situation at hand.
The last time Jiang Wenyuan had led others in drafting a memorial to refuse the imperial rewards, Zhou had known something must have gone wrong. But then, officials being attacked or impeached was nothing unusual, so he hadn’t paid much attention. Sure enough, after that matter, the court once again sent down the rewards, with the edict even adorned in lavish words of praise. He had thought the matter was closed.
Who would have thought that barely a month later, impeachment would strike again -and this time the Emperor had even kept it on record. Although it had not yet reached the point of being forwarded for formal investigation by the relevant offices, for the Northwestern generals who had only just been granted rewards, this was already a severe punishment.
“My lord, I just asked Commander Zhou; he said he doesn’t know anything about this -and from his expression he doesn’t seem to be putting on an act,” one aide said.
Zhou Fengxiang made no comment.
On the surface the matter had arisen because of the five men of Maoyuan Mountain. The only person in the Northwest willing to stick up for them was the Zhou clan’s Sixth Young Master. The Sixth Young Master had been humiliated out there in the Northwest and had fallen afoul of Jiang Wenyuan; nursing his grievance, he returned to the capital where Jiang Wenyuan’s restraints no longer applied. There he staged that whole city–wide spectacle to welcome the heroic souls, and it landed in the hands of the dying Lu Zheng like a last desperate lifeline. With favorable timing, terrain, and popular support, the affair exploded.
An incident that began so impulsively probably surprised even members of the Zhou family – let alone the clan elders who were said to have learned of it in advance. Or perhaps it had been plotted by the Zhou household from top to bottom; if so, they could not publicly admit it.
If there was plotting, it likely sprang from the same mindset as Lu Zheng’s: in any case, a rift had opened between the Sixth Young Master and Jiang Wenyuan. If Jiang Wenyuan were to hold firm in the Northwest, the Zhou family would have no good days ahead. Since they were already in a perilous position, they might as well go all out – tear off the mask and make it a fight to the death.
“My lord, it is indeed connected to the Zhou family – but it truly wasn’t done by the Sixth Young Master,” another aide said as he set down the letter in his hand.
Along with the Emperor’s decree had come letters sent by spies, friends, and kin from their respective networks. One could not rely on the imperial decree alone to form a sound judgment. This practice was not unique to them – naturally Jiang Wenyuan’s side had the same sources as well.
Everyone in the room turned to look at him.
“…It was the Zhou family’s niece,” the aide said, pushing the letter across the table. “The sworn younger sister of the Maoyuan Mountain brothers.”
A sworn sister?
A woman?
Everyone’s expression was one of shock.
“Do you still remember the rumors that the Maoyuan Mountain brothers were very wealthy?” one aide asked.
Across the room, someone had already picked up the letter, scanning it while nodding.
“They said the brothers were owners of some shop in the capital…” he murmured. “It always sounded far-fetched.”
“Not far-fetched at all – they really are proprietors, and of a very famous shop at that,” the aide continued. “Tai Ping Residence…”
At the mention of this name, several present couldn’t help letting out cries of surprise.
Though Zhou Fengxiang was not a native of the capital, he had stayed there for some time while awaiting assignment, and of course everyone was familiar with Tai Ping Residence, famous for its Tai Ping Tofu.
That shop was immensely prosperous! Yes – now that he thought of it, those five men had originally been seized from Tai Ping Residence. At the time, however, no one had paid them any mind, assuming they were just hired hands or errand boys. Who would have thought they were actually the owners?
No wonder people always said the Maoyuan Mountain brothers spent money so lavishly.
“…And this sworn sister of theirs – she is in fact the true owner of Tai Ping Residence, the head owner,” the aide said.
“Not the Zhou family?” someone asked in astonishment. “A young lady, owning her own enterprise?”
The aide shook his head, but before he could speak, another aide who was reading the letter had already spoken up.
“No, not the Zhou family. The official records confirm it. The Zhou clan would never push a niece forward as a mere front to pose as the owner – that wouldn’t make sense… Ah… and… it’s not just Tai Ping Residence…” His expression turned to shock. “There’s also Immortal’s Abode…”
The cries of surprise in the room grew louder – and that was still not all.
“…And Yichun Hall as well… So she is the very same divine doctor who cured Chen Shao’s father, who brought Tong Neihan back from the brink of death – the one people said could heal only the incurable, whose skills were worth a fortune in gold!” the aide went on. His voice had risen to a sharp pitch, clearly shaken to the core.
“This explains it! Why these businesses are hers, and not the Zhou family’s!”
Everyone present surged forward in a rush, scrambling to snatch the letter and read it, the scene descending into chaos.
Zhou Fengxiang did not rebuke them for such a loss of decorum – for he himself was stunned. He stood off to the side, the aides’ words echoing in his ears, watching the men who passed the letter from hand to hand, each cry of astonishment rising as they read.
Heavens above…
The head owner of Tai Ping Residence, Immortal’s Abode, and Yichun Hall.
The divine doctor who cured Chen Shao’s father, lifted Chen Shao himself from his period of mourning, and brought Tong Neihan back from the brink of death.
The sworn sister of the Maoyuan Mountain brothers!
Heavens above…
No wonder…
“Don’t regret it! Don’t you regret it!”
Zhou Fengxiang recalled those words once spoken by that young man – childish words, spoken to Jiang Wenyuan, that had seemed almost laughable to outsiders.
But now he realized they had not been words of petulance at all, but words backed by real confidence.
“…Isn’t this just making trouble for nothing…” Zhou Fengxiang muttered. “With a sister like that, what need was there to be a soldier!”
While the urgent report stirred anger and astonishment among so many, the one who had been waiting most anxiously, Xu Sigen, was surprisingly calm.
At the imperial horse stables, after finishing his day’s duties – fitting the horses with shoes – he washed himself down with a bucket of water as the sun sank in the west. Putting on his own clothes, he walked out the gate, bought two jars of wine and some candies and snacks, and filled a basket to the brim. Then, winding his way through the streets, he finally arrived at a certain alley.
In front of one house, two or three children were chasing each other and playing. The courtyard gate stood wide open. Xu Sigen stopped at the entrance and called out:
“Liu Jiang!”
Inside the yard, a man halted in his steps and looked over with a trace of helplessness.
“It’s you again,” he said. “Xu Sigen, go back. I really don’t know anything about that matter, and I have nothing to say.”
Xu Sigen only smiled, unbothered by the man’s evasiveness. He set the wine he carried down at the gate.
“It’s nothing. I was in good spirits today, bought some wine, but had no one to share it with. Then I thought of you – and how you and the others once stood shoulder to shoulder in battle – so I came to see you,” he said. Without waiting for the man in the courtyard to reply, he turned and walked away.
Watching Xu Sigen leave, the man in the courtyard stood frozen, his expression complicated. From inside the house a woman came out.
“Wu-lang, was that Xu Sigen again?” she asked softly.
The man gave a grunt in reply.
The woman sighed.
“He’s rather pitiful…” she murmured.
“Pitiful? Pitiful for what?” the man suddenly cut her off sharply, his voice raised. “Plenty of men die in battle – are we supposed to pity them all? The moment you become a soldier, you know the day of death will come. What is there to pity?”
Flushed from being shouted at, the woman’s face reddened.
“It’s precisely because I know such a day awaits them all – that’s why I pity them!” This time she did not bow her head and retreat meekly as she usually did. Instead, she lifted her face, her eyes rimmed with red, and cried out, “What I pity is that every soldier may face such a day. And when that day comes, they may die in vain – branded with false charges, their wives and children left without shelter or livelihood, driven out by others. That is why I pity them. If today we cannot pity others, then who will pity us when our day comes?”
The man’s face turned pale at her outburst. He looked ready to rage, yet no words came.
“Nonsense!” he finally shouted, flinging his arm as he turned and stormed back into the house.
The woman angrily wiped her tears with the back of her hand, and her eyes fell on the two jars of wine left at the doorway. Familiar with the routine, she went over and picked them up.
“…What good is it to cover for others? You get promoted to some petty rank, owe people a favor, and end up envied and resented – better to…” she muttered. As she spoke, she glanced outside, but Xu Sigen’s figure was already gone from the alley.
“…Better to be remembered for one’s kindness. And besides, he spends so generously…”
Muttering under her breath, she glanced at the wine in her hands, took a deep sniff, and, with a trace of joy, called out toward the gate:
“…Datou, Datou, go to the market and buy some lamb bones. I will make an extra dish for you all.”
While the woman was sending her child to buy bones, Xu Sigen had already turned up at another household’s gate. But this time he did not go inside; instead, he stood in the alley and reached out to gently pat the head of a child playing outside the door.
The child, evidently already familiar with him, giggled and did not shy away.
At the doorway stood two women. The younger one, upon seeing him, immediately grew wary and was about to drive him away, but the older woman reached out to stop her.
“Mother… if he turns spiteful, if he hates us… what about Xiao Bao…” the younger woman whispered anxiously.
The older woman shook her head.
“A man’s face shows his heart. He won’t harm Xiao Bao – he won’t harm us,” she said softly, her eyes fixed on the mouth of the alley.
The younger woman, still uneasy, looked over as well. She saw Xu Sigen squatting down, speaking to the child about something. He laughed, and the child laughed with him. Then he reached into his basket, pulled out a handful of sweets, and pressed them into the child’s hands, watching as the child happily raised them up and ran off to share with his playmates.
He remained squatting by the roadside, watching the children at play, grinning from time to time.
“I heard that one of the dead men even left behind a child…” the older woman suddenly murmured.
The younger woman flinched as if pricked by a needle and quickly turned her head.
“Mother, don’t say that!” she warned, uneasily.
The older woman gave her a glance, then lowered her head to her needlework and said nothing more.
The younger woman turned her head again, intending to call the child back, but saw that Xu Sigen, who had been squatting at the end of the lane, had already gone. She closed her half-open mouth, her expression somewhat complicated.
By nightfall, Xu Sigen’s basket was empty. His face looked more at ease as he came to a stop at the gates of the imperial stables. For now, he was lodging there. Just as he was about to step inside, five or six men came out.
“Xu Sigen,” the one in the lead said with a grim face, “Master Jiang wants to question you. Come with us.”
Xu Sigen nodded calmly, turned around, and followed them. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of countless figures in the shadows and the light – people casting glances at him, pointing fingers, whispering in speculation.
Ask, speak – he wasn’t afraid of questions, nor of words. The only thing to fear was if no one asked, and no one spoke.
