The office of the Northwestern Command was brightly lit; the side-tables were still heaped with fine wine and delicacies, yet the main hall stood empty. No – not entirely empty. Jiang Wenyuan still sat in the principal seat, his face frightfully pale under the glare of the lamps.
It was his birthday. Although he’d been kept busy by countless affairs and weary with hard work, overall the day had gone smoothly. He had just been granted meritorious recognition and was on the verge of having the “deputy” removed from his title – soon he could be addressed proudly as Commissioner – and a prefectship had been confirmed at the same time. Of course life is never without annoyances: the petty, nauseating dispute over credit among the Maoyuan Mountain brothers had surfaced, but in the end it had been settled.
And only a few days earlier his concubine had borne him another son – his thirteenth. For many who struggled to raise heirs, this was truly something to envy.
So at forty-six he was celebrating with great contentment. He did not expect, however, that before the banquet even began a confidential dispatch from the capital would scatter the evening like wind.
Zhou! Feng! Xiang!
With a roar, Jiang Wenyuan swept the nearest tables aside; plates, bowls, cups and wine ewers crashed and tinkled in chaotic clatter through the hall.
“Kill him! Kill him!”
He shouted, strode out, snatched a sword from the waist of an attendant standing in the corridor, and charged for the main gate.
“No, my lord – you mustn’t!”
His personal guards, officers and aides lunged forward, desperate to wrest the blade from him.
“Go and kill him now – kill him.” Jiang Wenyuan snarled, his face dark with malice.
“My lord, not just you – there are plenty in the Northwest who want him dead already,” an aide pleaded. “It wouldn’t be hard to arrange his death: on the battlefield you can pass it off as a startled horse throwing him, or a stray arrow. But we’re in Longgu City now, and there’s no war – how could we kill him here?”
Besides, after receiving the secret dispatch they’d sent men to look for Zhou Fengxiang, only to find that Zhou – who had feigned illness to skip the banquet – had already taken off his official robes and thrown himself into the prison, awaiting the arrival of the court’s inspectors to accept punishment.
“He put himself in the prison – what’s one dead man in a cell?” Jiang Wenyuan said through clenched teeth, eyes bloodshot.
If it were a military officer, fine – they could die and it would be a shame, but an expected fate. But Zhou Fengxiang was a civil official – and he had already submitted himself to punishment.
“My lord, he mustn’t die now – if he dies, no one up or down the chain will be able to make sense of it.” The aide sighed.
Jiang Wenyuan knew that as well as anyone.
“Then if he doesn’t die now, no one here will be able to make sense of it either!” he roared.
He paced back and forth like a raging tiger trapped in a cage.
The moment he received the secret dispatch everything snapped into place; that nagging sense of unease that had been gnawing at him for days suddenly found its answer.
No wonder he’d felt something was off!
So that’s it! So that’s it!
Who had leaked the news that Xu Sigen had been beaten in the prison? How had those laborers and soldiers, scattered everywhere, all happened to converge nearby? Why was Fang Zhonghe so conveniently stopped at the city gate while fleeing…?
Everything – every piece of it – had been contrived to force them to agree to draft and endorse a memorial recognizing the Linguan Fort affair, and to secure his official seal on that very memorial!
“They’re playing tricks! It’s a setup!” Jiang Wenyuan shouted. “This is entrapment! And besides, what’s so serious about falsifying military merit? What do they mean, ‘falsifying’! It’s just post-battle boasting! We only exaggerated a little – there are far worse cases, people claiming merit for others’ kills, stealing credit from the dead – those are everywhere…”
His aides hurriedly tried to quiet him.
He wasn’t wrong – falsified military merits were nothing rare. They could swear that in every campaign throughout history, embellishment and exaggeration had always been part of the record.
But that’s how the world works: when they say it’s nothing, it’s nothing; when they say it’s something, it suddenly becomes everything – all decided by the mouths that speak.
And the timing of this accusation of false merit couldn’t have been worse – it came just as the Linguan Fort case of fabricated credit had been confirmed, and right when the Emperor in the capital was being cornered and forced into a vow by a lady.
“This is a slap to the Emperor’s face – it’s stripped him of his dignity,” the aides sighed.
No wonder the Emperor was furious.
Indeed, Zhou Fengxiang’s move was both ruthless and venomous.
With a kick, Jiang Wenyuan sent a wooden stand flying; the ceremonial objects placed on it clattered to the ground in a crash.
“My lord, we’ll of course have to submit a memorial to defend ourselves,” the aides said, “but the real key now is that you must not be summoned to the capital.”
Once he went to the capital, he would be trapped in endless rounds of questioning and self-justification. Even if he eventually cleared his name, it would be almost impossible for him to return to his post in the Northwest.
Yes – he couldn’t go. If he went, everything would be irretrievable.
“But how can I avoid going?” he said through gritted teeth.
Zhou Fengxiang had stirred up such a storm that the court in the capital would be relentless. The Emperor, already enraged – how could he refuse a summons?
“Before the imperial envoys arrive, we’ll have to think of another way,” the aides said helplessly, for they had no better plan at the moment.
Standing in the courtyard, Jiang Wenyuan felt the night wind whipping around him. Though it was not yet midwinter, the chill cut straight to the bone.
By the time dawn broke, the men in the office had bloodshot eyes. Though they’d gone the whole night without sleep, none of them felt drowsy – if anything, they were numb.
Countless documents, memorials and military reports lay scattered across the floor, yet there was no solution in sight to relieve their immediate crisis.
“I’ll go kill Zhou Fengxiang myself!” Jiang Wenyuan suddenly bellowed.
The aides threw themselves at him again, desperate to stop him.
“My lord, there’s no need to throw your life away for him!”
“Exactly – nothing’s decided yet. Even if you leave the Northwest, there are other options. Master Gao will surely protect you; you won’t be disgraced for long – you’ll be reinstated before long!”
At least now they weren’t like the night before, when they’d sworn to stay and refuse to go to the capital.
Jiang Wenyuan smiled bitterly in his heart but felt a deepening despair – he’d already lost half the battle…
“…Report!”
The drawn-out cry of an urgent messenger rang through the government hall as a soldier burst in.
“Urgent dispatch from Qingshan Fort – the western bandits are massing in the southeast! Their target is the Heishan tribe that recently submitted to us – the Heishan tribe is requesting aid!”
Everyone in the hall froze, momentarily stunned, as if unable to believe what they’d just heard.
“How many men?” Jiang Wenyuan, a seasoned commander even in crisis, was the first to recover and ask.
“Twenty thousand!” the messenger reported, dropping to one knee and presenting the dispatch sealed in red wax along with the gold credential proving its authenticity.
Twenty thousand!
The faces in the room, already pale, blanched further – then suddenly flushed red as realization struck them all at once.
“Good! Hahaha – good! Let them come!”
Thunderous laughter exploded through the hall, echoing off the walls, leaving the messenger soldier standing there dumbfounded.
Twenty thousand enemy troops – was that something to be happy about?
Of course, not everyone shared that joy.
When Zhou Fengxiang, sitting in his prison cell, heard the news, the calm composure on his face froze at once. All color drained from his cheeks. Though his posture remained steady, anyone close enough could see his hands trembling on his knees.
“Fate… destiny…” he murmured under his breath.
Unlike the high-ranking officers who received the report immediately, the lower soldiers heard the news much later – especially those imprisoned in the barracks cells.
Their reactions, however, were subdued.
“…Think they’ll let us fight?”
“…To earn merit and atone?”
Some even joked weakly.
But deep inside the cell, Xu Sigen and Liu Kui could not laugh. They exchanged a glance and saw the same despair mirrored in each other’s eyes.
It was over…
Jiang Wenyuan would never be able to leave now.
Was this Heaven helping him?
Just as in the Northwest, where everyone had their own reaction, when this urgent military report reached the capital, some burst into laughter while others turned pale.
The laughter was not born of cruelty toward war, nor was the pallor from fear of it – both were simply responses to fate and timing.
In the palace’s council hall, the great doors were once again shut tight, yet as always, news spread quickly through the capital.
“…A major battle’s about to begin. Looks like Jiang Wenyuan’s safe now…”
“…Yes, it’s taboo to replace a general right before a campaign – even the Emperor won’t dare touch him now…”
“…That Jiang Wenyuan kid really is blessed by fortune…”
Although no official word had yet come from the court, the scholars and common folk outside had already made the decision on its behalf.
Old Master Zhang set down the pair of shears in his hand and gazed at the bonsai before him, letting out a soft sigh.
“At least it wasn’t all for nothing – their names have been cleared,” he said.
Yet his brows did not ease.
So what if their names were cleared? The brothers of Maoyuan Mountain had fought from obscurity to fame – and the Northwestern Command could do the same in turn.
“Ah, such is fate… such is the time,” Old Master Zhang finally murmured, shaking his head. He tossed aside the shears and turned back into the house.
Although Zhou Liu-lang had stormed off from the Yudai Bridge last time, swearing never to return, the moment he heard the news he still rushed back without hesitation.
But he was one step too late.
“Miss’s gone to Master Chen’s residence,” the servant left behind informed him.
To Chen Shao’s house?
What for? What could she possibly want from him? Not to mention that this time, Chen Shao had dragged down far more than just Attendant Scholar Gao – and now he himself was like a clay idol crossing the river, barely able to save his own skin.
When the Chen household heard that Lady Cheng had come to visit, they were utterly astonished.
By the time Chen Shi’ba-niang arrived, she could already see from afar that familiar yet strangely distant figure, and she couldn’t help but stop in her tracks.
“Shi’ba-niang, aren’t you going in?” asked Chen Dan-niang, puzzled as she tugged at her hand.
“She must have business with Father. Let’s wait a bit before we go in,” Chen Shi’ba-niang said, her gaze fixed on the lady stepping into her father’s study.
Compared to two years ago, she’d grown taller…
“Shi’ba-niang, is that the Lady Cheng?” Chen Dan-niang asked.
“You – you were the closest to her, and you’ve forgotten already?” Chen Shiba-niang poked her lightly on the head.
“It’s been so long, I really forgot,” Chen Dan-niang pouted, eyes following the figure disappearing through the doorway – something about that silhouette felt vaguely familiar, even comforting.
“Let’s wait here,” Chen Shi’ba-niang said, glancing toward the study, a trace of worry clouding her brow.
Chen Shao had just returned from the palace, his fatigue plain to see.
“Lady Cheng, there’s no need to rush this matter. Don’t worry – everything will be fine,” he said.
Cheng Jiao-niang looked at him and smiled faintly.
“You walk the great road for the sake of the public good. I’m not worried,” she replied.
That smile made Chen Shao’s expression falter for a moment.
The great road…
Master Chen, to take sides and strike down dissent without regard for right or wrong – that is the ‘great road’ you should now recognize.
Those words echoed in his mind.
Yes – what he had done this time truly disregarded right and wrong. He had resorted to methods that, two years ago, he himself would have deemed disgraceful.
The reason he had so determinedly sought to drive Attendant Scholar Gao out of the court was because that man’s presence, he believed, obstructed the nation’s governance and the people’s welfare. Such a treacherous, scheming man, he thought, must never again be entrusted with power.
He had long known the kinds of tactics Attendant Scholar Gao and his allies used against him, but he had always disdained to retaliate in kind, believing his cause was not factional struggle, but loyal service to the throne – the true Way of an upright official.
Yet as time passed, he found himself changed – almost without realizing it. Especially this time: when his aides and subordinates gathered to discuss their countermeasures, he hadn’t opposed them. No – worse – he had tacitly agreed, even personally taken part.
And those tactics, inevitably, would harm the innocent. Such as…
Chen Shao looked at the girl seated calmly before him and gave a weary, bitter smile.
The very means he had once denounced had now come to rest upon himself.
What must she think of that?
Truly – such is the time, and such is fate.
“…It’s just that, my lord, your luck still doesn’t seem very good.”
The voice beside him continued softly.
To Chen Shao’s ears, the words carried a trace of irony.
Irony – but from this girl, it could hardly be called disrespect.
“Lady Cheng, I will see that you receive a proper explanation for this matter. Please rest assured – and don’t be hasty,” he said with a sigh, his tone growing solemn and deliberate.
“How can I not be hasty?” Cheng Jiao-niang looked at him with a faint smile. “Are you not anxious as well?”
Not anxious? If he weren’t anxious, he wouldn’t have woken up overnight with a fresh burn blister on his lip!
“Lady Cheng, it’s not that I refuse to help you,” Chen Shao said, sitting upright and drawing a deep breath, “but right now we can’t rush. It must be handled slowly, step by step.”
Cheng Jiao-niang looked at him and gave a soft “Oh.”
“Then let me put it another way,” she said. “How about this time… I help you?”
Damn…Jiao Niang always have spare card to play