Just as everyone in the capital grew excited and turned their eyes toward the northwest, the people in the northwest themselves had no idea that they had suddenly become the key to success or failure.
The imperial decrees and urgent reports were still on their way, but in Longgu City, the atmosphere was anything but relaxed.
Outside the government hall, Liu Kui was thrown out by several men, the commotion drawing the attention of passersby on the street.
“What are you looking at!” barked the leading soldier.
The crowd, which had begun to gather, immediately lowered their heads and hurriedly dispersed.
“Let Xu Sigen go! Or this won’t be over!” Liu Kui shouted, wiping the blood from his nose.
The men before him looked at him coldly.
“Get lost,” they said bluntly.
“You drove Fan Jianglin away, and now you’ve arrested Xu Sigen – what are you so afraid of? Is it because Xu Maoxiu and the other four died too mysteriously? Jiang Wenyuan, what the hell are you afraid of?” Liu Kui yelled.
At his shout, the crowd that had been watching from a distance out of curiosity scattered instantly with a loud rustle. This wasn’t something they dared to watch. If you heard what you shouldn’t hear, or said what you shouldn’t say, the yamen could brand you a ‘northwest rebel spy’ and you’d die in prison for it.
At that moment, Liu Kui was struck in the face with a punch.
“Tie him up and lock him away for disobeying military orders,” the leading officer commanded.
Seven or eight men rushed forward and surrounded Liu Kui.
Just then, the sharp clatter of hooves rang out as a troop of riders came galloping down the street.
“What’s going on?” the man on horseback barked.
Everyone looked up and quickly lowered their hands, standing at attention.
“Master Zhou, this man was drunk and causing trouble at the yamen. We were ordered to arrest him,” the leading officer said.
Zhou Fengxiang said nothing – he simply swung off his horse.
“That’s enough. Take him away to sober up,” said Zhao Cheng beside him, waving his hand dismissively.
The soldiers responded at once and moved to help Liu Kui to his feet.
The officer still wanted to say something, but Zhou Fengxiang was already walking over.
“Make way!” his attendants shouted.
The officer quickly lowered his head and stepped aside.
“In Deputy Commander’s opinion, what is the meaning of arresting this man?”
Inside the government hall, Zhou Fengxiang asked in a low, heavy voice.
Seated behind the desk, Jiang Wenyuan’s expression was calm. In the past, hearing that title would have grated on him – but now his heart was quiet, like a cicada in late autumn that knows it doesn’t have many days left to sing.
“Xu Sigen spread rumors and sowed discord, shaking the troops’ morale. Naturally, he must be dealt with under military law,” Jiang Wenyuan said, tossing a memorial from the desk toward him.
Zhou Fengxiang caught the document.
“And how exactly did he spread rumors and cause trouble? Don’t you start spreading rumors again – haven’t we had enough of that already?” he snapped as he opened it.
But as his eyes swept over the contents, his expression changed drastically, anger flashing across his face.
“What is this supposed to be?” he demanded.
“The court wanted the matter handled quickly, and I’ve already completed the investigation as fast as I could,” Jiang Wenyuan said with a faint smile, lifting his chin slightly toward Zhou Fengxiang. “After all, this impeachment is directed at me – naturally, I should be thorough.”
“If you wanted to be thorough, you should have recused yourself,” Zhou Fengxiang replied, throwing the document back onto the desk. “What do you call this? How is this an investigation? How did it turn into slander?”
“I questioned Xu Sigen – he’s involved in the matter, isn’t he? Wouldn’t that count as an interrogation?” Jiang Wenyuan said. “He wasn’t on the battlefield. Everything he said was hearsay – just things he heard from others. Isn’t that spreading rumors and fabricating lies?”
Zhou Fengxiang was so angry he let out a short laugh.
“He wasn’t there – but do you mean no one else was? If what he said is hearsay, then what about those who were there? Are their words rumors too?” he retorted.
It was as if Jiang Wenyuan had been waiting for that very line. Hearing it, he placed a hand lightly on the desk and smiled faintly.
“You should know,” he said evenly, “that I have already questioned everyone.” As he spoke, he took out another record book. “Every single person, from top to bottom, questioned thoroughly and clearly – how the intelligence was received, how the tactics were arranged…”
By the time he reached the word tactics, the smile had vanished from his face, and his tone grew heavier.
Zhou Fengxiang’s expression shifted slightly.
“…Right,” Jiang Wenyuan continued, “the only one left is you, Inspector. It wouldn’t be proper for me to question you myself. You know better than anyone what happened – so you’d best write your own account.” He held out the record book toward him.
Zhou Fengxiang hesitated for a moment before reaching to take it, but Jiang Wenyuan did not let go. For a moment, the two men were locked in stillness.
“If you don’t trust me, my lord,” Jiang Wenyuan said, enunciating each word, “then go ask for yourself. Ask everyone. Ask them clearly – every single one.”
Zhou Fengxiang’s face was wooden as he snatched the book from his hand.
“Thank you for the reminder, Deputy Commander,” he replied, each word clipped and cold.
As Zhou Fengxiang walked out, Fang Zhonghe – who had been waiting anxiously in the side hall – stepped in and bowed nervously.
“My lord, may I return now?” he asked.
“You may,” Jiang Wenyuan replied.
“Then… then Master Zhou – he won’t question me again, will he?” Fang Zhonghe said uneasily, glancing toward the doorway, where Zhou Fengxiang’s figure had already disappeared.
“He won’t,” Jiang Wenyuan said, also looking outside, a cold smile curling at his lips. “He doesn’t dare to.”
“Yes, yes, my lord – there’s nothing worth asking anyway. It’s not exactly a glorious matter…” Fang Zhonghe said with an obsequious laugh, but before he could finish, he caught Jiang Wenyuan’s chilling gaze.
Fang Zhonghe shuddered and immediately fell silent.
“‘Not glorious?’” Jiang Wenyuan said coldly. “Are you talking about the part where you abandoned the city and fled first?”
With a thud, Fang Zhonghe dropped to his knees.
“Get out,” Jiang Wenyuan said with open contempt and disgust. “If you still harbor no thought of serving your country, military law will not forgive you.”
Fang Zhonghe kowtowed three times, heavily, muttered his thanks, and hurried out with his head lowered.
“This whole mess was caused by that Fang Zhonghe…” one of the aides murmured.
“What do you mean, ‘caused by him’?” Jiang Wenyuan cut him off sharply, brows furrowed. “Did he not carry out his orders? Did he not reach Linguan Fort? Did he not send word to the rear in time? Did he not stand and defend the city, outnumbered but unafraid?”
He did – all of that he did.
The aides nodded in agreement.
“Then what disaster did he cause?” Jiang Wenyuan said, rising to his feet. “Just because he didn’t die in battle, that makes him guilty? The defense was that fierce – losses were inevitable! And now, because a few died, the living are to be blackmailed by the dead?”
The aides nodded again in hurried agreement – “No, no, of course not.”
“We all understand that,” someone said. “All of us who’ve stood on the frontier and fought firsthand understand it. But those high-ranking civil officials in the capital – those who ride fine horses with flowers in their hats, parading through the streets – they don’t. In their eyes, the only good soldier is a dead one.”
Jiang Wenyuan’s face darkened.
“We military men – when we win, there’s no extra merit; when we lose, there’s no end to the punishment. Any slight move, and we’re accused or impeached,” he said grimly. “If I give in this time, then in the future anyone can march into the capital and cause a scene. How could the army still hold together after that?”
The aides nodded.
“But that Inspector Zhou,” one of them said worriedly, “he seems to be taking special care to defend those five from Maoyuan Mountain…”
“So what if he is?” Jiang Wenyuan sneered. “Is he going to throw away his own future for the sake of those five? If he wants to drag this out, will he say that our reconnaissance failed, that our deployment was wrong, that we nearly caused disaster – that we stumbled into battle in confusion, suffered heavy losses, and only then won? What good would saying that do for him?”
He laughed coldly. “He’s been butting heads with me all this time – for what? So that we can both get kicked out of the northwest together? Even if he wants that, he’d better ask whether the others do.”
Once you step into officialdom, whether civil or military, it’s like locking a shackle around your neck that you can never take off. An official title – and a higher one – becomes a lifelong pursuit. Not just for yourself, but for your sons, your descendants, for generations of wealth and glory.
“Even a man as virtuous as Xie An was willing to betray his vow to retreat to Dongshan for the sake of his family’s standing,” Jiang Wenyuan said with a cold smile. “Zhou Fengxiang, as capable as he may be, is still no Xie An.”
“My lord! My lord!”
Seeing Zhou Fengxiang come out, Liu Kui hurried forward, but Zhou’s attendants blocked him with outstretched arms.
“My lord, please, you must stand up for Xu Sigen!” he pleaded.
Zhou Fengxiang glanced at him and started to walk away.
“My lord!” Liu Kui cried out in anguish. Ignoring the attendants restraining him, he tried to rush forward. “My lord!”
Zhou Fengxiang stopped in his tracks.
“Xu Sigen spread false rumors that undermined the morale of the troops and civilians -he must be punished,” Zhou said evenly.
“My lord, he didn’t spread lies! Everything he said was true – it was true!” Liu Kui shouted.
“Where is your proof?” Zhou Fengxiang turned and looked at him.
Liu Kui opened his mouth – but no words came out.
“You can prove it?” Zhou Fengxiang continued. “Xu Sigen didn’t fight at Linguan Fort, and neither did you – so how can you speak as if you know the truth? Just because Fan Jianglin said so? There were over two thousand soldiers at Linguan Fort, and of those, more than a hundred survived. If only Fan Jianglin speaks while a hundred others remain silent – Liu Kui, how do you expect the court to believe you? How do you expect the people to believe you?”
Liu Kui opened his mouth again, but no words came out.
“The affairs of the world are never so easily explained or divided into right and wrong,” Zhou Fengxiang said.
He gave Liu Kui one last look, then turned and walked away. This time, Liu Kui did not chase after him. He just stood by the roadside, as still as a clay statue.
Yes… things in this world are never that simple…
People passed by on the street, glancing at the dazed man standing there. They whispered to one another, pointing discreetly, and instinctively stepped aside to avoid him.
