At the government office courtyard of Longgu City in the northwest, the yard was crowded with people – all of them in tattered clothes and gaunt from hardship. Yet as the imperial envoy in the center of the courtyard read aloud the decree in a measured and sonorous voice, their fearful, uneasy expressions gradually gave way to excitement and joy.
“…Appointed as Xuanjie Colonel, charged with the management of cavalry affairs…”
When the envoy finished reading, he looked down at the man kneeling before him.
“Xu Sigen, receive the decree.”
Xu Sigen kowtowed, his voice choked with emotion as he reached out to accept it.
The people standing nearby erupted, surging forward to surround him.
“Wonderful, wonderful!”
“He’s been promoted again, promoted again!”
Some were so moved that they began to weep.
“Are all these people his relatives and friends? Why do they seem even more excited than the one who got promoted?” the onlookers asked curiously.
“No, they’re not,” someone who knew the situation explained with a laugh. “These people are the deserters and laborers from Linguan Fort. They’d been locked up for quite a while and thought they were going to die. Now that they’ve suddenly been released, and Xu Sigen’s even been promoted, it’s clear none of them will be executed – that’s why they’re crying out of joy.”
In the courtyard, the crowd was still buzzing with excitement when a group of military officers stepped out from the government hall.
“You cowards afraid of death!” one of them shouted loudly.
His voice rang out, instantly overpowering the commotion. The courtyard fell silent.
“You cowards afraid of death,” the officer repeated, as if worried they hadn’t heard him clearly.
The faces of those who had just been rejoicing for their narrow escape turned pale once more, and all eyes turned toward the officer.
Zhong Chengbu’s gaze swept over the crowd, the disdain in his eyes utterly undisguised.
“Get out of this government office – right now,” he said coldly. “Take off your uniforms, take your whole families, and get out of Longgu City – out of the entire northwest.”
The courtyard fell silent.
“Out!” Zhong Chengbu suddenly barked.
More than half the people flinched, then hurriedly turned and shuffled out with their heads bowed.
But aside from Xu Sigen and Liu Kui, there was one person who remained standing, unmoving.
“You – why aren’t you getting out?” Zhong Chengbu barked, his brows knitting sharply.
“You didn’t tell me to, my lord,” the man replied calmly. “So naturally, I won’t.”
Zhong Chengbu let out a short laugh, fixing his eyes on him.
“Oh? And how have I not told you?” he asked.
Those who had already started leaving turned their heads to glance back; a few even whispered anxiously, urging the man not to provoke this fierce, ill-tempered general – he’d barely escaped with his life.
But the man remained where he was, unmoving.
“Because I’m not afraid of death,” he said. “Maybe I was before – but not anymore.”
The courtyard fell silent for a moment, then Zhong Chengbu burst into a loud, booming laugh that echoed around the yard.
“All right – recently those western bandits swept through our two forts and two garrisons. You lads who weren’t afraid to die, we’ll go and wash away that humiliation!” he cried, raising his hand.
The officers and guards standing at attention in the courtyard answered in unison.
“Wash away the humiliation!”
“Wash away the humiliation!”
First the yard, then the shouts rolled outward, wave after wave.
Those soldiers and laborers who had already reached the gate turned pale and flushed; one by one – then two, then three – people turned back and came back in.
“Damn it, who’s afraid of dying!”
“What’s so scary about death? Dying in bed or dying on the battlefield – what’s the difference?”
“Xu Maoxiu and the others earned merit in death; can’t we who are alive earn ours too?”
Watching them step forward to stand beside that man and shout together with him, a faint smile appeared at the corner of Zhong Chengbu’s lips.
Inside the hall, the officers naturally heard the commotion, and several of the older ones exchanged complex looks.
“As expected, it takes the young to stir up morale,” someone remarked.
“General Zhong really is young,” another said slowly.
To say something like ‘wash away the humiliation’ so easily –
Humiliation of the past… was that not the disgrace left by the previous commander?
Jiang Wenyuan hadn’t even left yet, and the matter hadn’t been settled. To so openly trample over him – was that really wise?
“He talks well, and it sounds good too,” an officer said, stroking his beard. “Now let’s see how he actually performs.”
Out on the streets, officers and soldiers were running past one after another, gathering at their respective posts.
Freshly released from his cell, Liu Kui had only taken the time to change his clothes before rushing out – he hadn’t even bothered to wash his face.
Someone called out to him from behind.
Liu Kui turned and saw a young officer on horseback. The horse was fully equipped – the kind of gear only mid-ranking officers could afford. Tsk, just look at that blade, that spear, those three crossbows…
The young officer reached out and handed him two of them.
Liu Kui froze in surprise.
“These were entrusted to me by Fan Jianglin to give you,” Zhou Liu-lang said. “One is Xu Bangchui’s three-stone bow, and the other is a newly issued Divine Arm Bow from the court. As for how to use them, you can go ask the men in the crossbow unit.”
Still dazed, Liu Kui took them in his hands – and before he could say a word, Zhou Liu-lang spurred his horse and galloped away.
“Stop right there – leave the bows.”
“What?”
“Were you issued a bow and arrows by the army? Who gave you permission to use these? Privately carrying weapons violates military discipline. Hand them over.”
“Bah! Never heard of anyone forbidding good weapons. Isn’t saving the army money a good thing? Who’d complain about that?”
“Good weapons? In your hands, good weapons are nothing but a waste. Hand them over. I said so, and that’s final. You dare disobey your superior’s order? With that kind of insolence, who would dare trust you in battle? You’re not even fit to serve as laborers!”
Liu Kui tightened his grip on the bow in his hands. After a long, heavy silence, his gaze shifted to the other bow – Divine Arm Bow? What was that supposed to be?
…
“Bring out the Divine Arm Bows!”
A loud voice rang out.
At the command, the row of archers stationed at the city gate immediately withdrew, and another line of soldiers stepped forward, each holding a crossbow already drawn and cocked. In the sunlight, the taut strings gleamed faintly.
Down in the trench beneath the gate, Liu Kui turned to glance back, then looked again at the pile of crossbows beside him.
“Aren’t these just heavy crossbows?” he muttered, gripping the knife in his hand tighter. “Has the court been duped again by some greedy fool chasing wealth and titles? Haven’t they learned from the last few times?”
Before his grumbling was even finished, his whole body tensed. His gaze locked ahead – a massive host of barbarian cavalry was advancing, the pounding of their hooves making the very ground tremble.
Liu Kui set down the knife in his hand and reached for a crossbow. After a moment’s hesitation, he naturally picked up the one Xu Bangchui had left him, took aim at the front, and began to calculate silently in his mind.
Bangchui, watch closely. I’ll show you how your bow kills our enemies…
Closer…
A little closer…
Just a little more…
Then suddenly, the deep roll of war drums shattered his eardrums – the signal to attack. Instinctively, Liu Kui released the arrow with the beat of the drums. But a heartbeat later, he came to his senses.
“What the hell are you doing?” he shouted angrily, turning his head. “The new recruits got spooked? At this distance, you couldn’t hit a damn–”
His words cut off abruptly as he stared upward at the sky, where a storm of arrows was raining down.
The rhythmic tremor beneath his feet suddenly turned chaotic; screams erupted ahead like thunder rolling across the battlefield.
Liu Kui stood frozen, staring at the barbarian riders falling from their horses in neat rows, like wheat stalks being cut down.
That far… with that much force…
The beating of the war drums had not yet ceased, and the hum of bowstrings filled the air around him. Liu Kui lifted his head – above him, the rain of arrows seemed endless, unbroken, and impossibly swift.
So fast… so dense…
Liu Kui’s whole body trembled. He dropped the bow in his hands and snatched up the Divine Arm Bow beside him. In his haste, his foot slipped from the stirrup several times, and he cursed himself inwardly for not having paid more attention to the crossbow unit’s instructions earlier.
Cheers were already rising all around him.
“Damn it!” Liu Kui swore through his teeth, watching as the barbarian army that had been advancing like a tide was now flowing backward, retreating in chaos. His anxiety mounted. “Leave some for me!”
He shouted, raising the bow already loaded with an arrow, and pulled the trigger with all his strength.
In Longgu City, Jiang Wenyuan had been sitting in the hall of his private residence for a long time.
“Master Jiang,” someone strode in from outside, his tone edged with impatience. “Can we depart now?”
Jiang Wenyuan’s expression was blank.
“Wait a little longer,” he said.
The man exhaled sharply and took a few steps closer.
“Wait for what?” he asked.
Jiang Wenyuan said nothing. His hands, resting on his knees, clenched tightly.
He refused to believe it – refused to believe that even Heaven itself wouldn’t let him leave. How, then, could these people make him leave?
“Report!”
A loud shout came from outside.
“…A great victory! A great victory! General Zhong has retaken two forts and three outposts…”
The voice carried into the room, and Jiang Wenyuan’s face instantly went pale. He jerked upright, leaning forward as if to hear more clearly.
But the shouting was already fading into the distance.
Had he misheard? Was it just an illusion?
The man in the room had already hurried out, and before long, he returned.
“An official dispatch just arrived – General Zhong has won a decisive victory. The northwest is secure once more.” He smiled faintly. “You can rest easy now, Master Jiang.”
Rest easy…
Jiang Wenyuan sank back into his seat, as though all the strength had been drained from his body.
“Was it because of that Divine Arm Bow?” he asked in a low, muffled voice.
The man in the room let out a short, mocking laugh.
“My lord, what a thing to say – of course it was because General Zhong commanded the troops well,” he replied smoothly.
Jiang Wenyuan gave a dry laugh of his own, then stood up.
“Let’s go,” he said, taking a few steps toward the courtyard before stopping again. “That Divine Arm Bow – it was offered by Fan Jianglin, wasn’t it?”
The man smiled and nodded.
“Yes,” he said, placing deliberate emphasis on the title, “by Inspector-General Fan.”
Inspector-General Fan…
Jiang Wenyuan found it almost laughable — and yet strangely unreal. He couldn’t help turning back to look at the courtyard.
Three years…
He had thought he could stay a little longer.
How had it come to this? How had things ended up this way?
“You’ll regret this!”
The voice of that young man echoed again in his ears.
Was it really all because he hadn’t verified the military merits of those dead soldiers back then? Just because of that?
“Jiang Wenyuan, you’ll regret this!”
Jiang Wenyuan closed his eyes for a moment, then turned his head and walked out.
While Jiang Wenyuan was still on the road, news of the great victory in the northwest had already been rushed to the capital by express riders. Along the way, the couriers shouted the triumphant report as they galloped through gates and streets, stirring the entire city into a frenzy.
From a restaurant overlooking the street, Attendant Scholar Gao couldn’t help but lean out and look down. He could clearly see the courier speeding past.
“…My lord, you must stand up for our master!”
In front of him, several men – some older, some younger – were still pleading.
“Our master was slandered out of jealousy! He was framed – this has nothing to do with him at all…”
Attendant Scholar Gao nodded slightly, then shook his head.
How could it have nothing to do with him?
Once one sat in that seat, one inevitably became a thorn in someone’s eye, a spike in their flesh.
It was impossible to stay uninvolved. The only thing one could do was leave no chance for others to strike – yet Jiang Wenyuan had left just such a chance. And that chance, ironically enough, was almost laughably small.
After dismissing the Jiang family retainers, Attendant Scholar Gao walked out slowly, descending the stairs step by step.
He found his thoughts drifting to Chen Shao – and at last, he was sure: Chen Shao had changed.
Chen Shao had learned to use the kinds of schemes one could not speak of openly – the sort of subtle manipulations he had arranged in the northwest, the trick of feigned resignation to gain favor with the Emperor, the sentimental words meant to soothe and persuade.
These were things Chen Shao would never have done before.
When had he changed? Or rather – because of whom had he changed?
Could it be… that fool from Jiang–zhou?
That fool from Jiang–zhou – could it really be her?
Because of a single restaurant, she had quietly driven Secretariat Editor Liu to a fate worse than death.
And now, over a few posthumous military honors for dead soldiers, she wasn’t content with forcing one implicated official to his death – she had to drag down an entire regional commissioner as well.
Such a trivial matter… was it really worth all that?
Yet she had not only conceived of it, but accomplished it – effortlessly, as if it were nothing at all.
That fool from Jiang–zhou!
“Xu Maoxiu!”
“No, no – Fan Shitou’s the best!”
“You don’t know crap! Among the five heroes of Maoyuan Mountain, Xu Bangchui’s the most brilliant one!”
The noisy argument made Attendant Scholar Gao stop abruptly in his tracks. What?
Maoyuan Mountain?
How were people still bringing that up? Would it never end? And what in the world was this “Xu Maoxiu” nonsense?
“Sir, don’t you know?” said the restaurant host beside him excitedly, his brows dancing. “A stele’s been erected at the graves of the Five Heroes of Maoyuan Mountain! Xu Maoxiu, Fan Shitou, Xu Bangchui, Fan Sanchou, and Xu Layue – those are their names!”
As he listened to the attendant fluently and familiarly recite those names, Attendant Scholar Gao couldn’t hide his astonishment.
How had these few people’s names become so widely known?
Wasn’t Maoyuan Mountain alone enough?
“The inscription on that stele is exquisite – truly extraordinary!” the attendant said excitedly, his brows dancing. “Now everyone in the capital is rushing to see it. They say the calligraphy is finer even than that of Qieting Temple… worthy of being called the best in this world!”
The best in this world!
Attendant Scholar Gao was stunned.
Good, very good. So even Maoyuan Mountain alone wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough for the common rabble to gossip and storytellers to spread the tale. Now even the scholars and officials had to remember it, to praise it, to let the five men’s names be immortalized in song and story.
What a Jiang–zhou fool indeed! Attendant Scholar Gao narrowed his eyes.
“…It’s just a few words carved on a stone, really… but the whole city’s gone mad over it…”
“…The authorities had no choice but to send people to fence off the burial ground. The Cheng family even sent guards to watch over the tomb – otherwise, someone might’ve stolen it by now…”
“…Oh, come on, who’d steal a tombstone?”
“…Who’d steal it? I’m telling you, after I saw that inscription, I wanted to steal it! Not to mention those people who’d practically camp there day and night just to keep it in sight…”
“…Even Princess Boyang went to see it herself. When she came back, she cried.”
“…Out of anger?”
“No – out of joy! She said it was worth it, just to have seen such a magnificent inscription in her lifetime…”
The whispering around her didn’t stop, until someone gave a soft cough.
Chen Shi’ba-niang instinctively tensed.
“…How does it compare to Lady Chen’s calligraphy?”
“…Oh, come now, what kind of question is that? How could it even compare?”
“…And which one can’t compare to which?”
No one answered – only a ripple of laughter rose and fell among them.
That laughter was even more humiliating than any answer could have been.
Chen Shi’ba-niang bit her lower lip, lifted her foot, and walked away. Even after she had gone quite a distance, she could still faintly hear the whispering and murmurs behind her.
Fortunately, there were few idle people in this section of the palace where the First Prince’s lectures were held, and she quickly found a quiet spot to stop. From her sleeve, she drew out her hand and unfolded a piece of paper she had been holding.
Fan Shitou.
Those three characters struck her eyes with blinding force.
Chen Shi’ba-niang couldn’t help but close her eyes.
“I came today because I wanted you to see – whether my efforts have been in vain. I wanted you to see – whether I’ve made any progress.”
“You’ve improved.”
She said she’d improved – that was an answer to the second question.
But to whether her efforts had been in vain, she gave no reply.
At the time, when she stopped at the gate of the courtyard, she’d wanted to ask – but didn’t dare to, or perhaps simply didn’t want to.
Now she understood why that lady hadn’t answered – and why she herself hadn’t dared, or hadn’t wanted, to ask.
Because the answer… was still the same.
“As long as I practice more, will I be able to write as well as you?”
“No. Sometimes it’s a matter of talent.”
No! No! No!
Chen Shi’ba-niang clenched her hand, the paper slowly crumpling into a ball as tears fell one by one onto it.
“Lady Chen.”
A voice called from behind her.
Startled, Chen Shi’ba-niang came back to herself. She quickly stuffed the crumpled paper into her sleeve, wiped her eyes, turned around, and drew a quiet breath, forcing a small smile.
A palace maid stood on the high steps, bowing toward her.
“Her Ladyship, the Imperial Consort, requests your presence,” the maid said.
Chen Shi’ba-niang answered softly and stepped forward, following the path toward the inner palace.
In the distance, she saw another eunuch leading a lady toward her at a slow pace. She stopped in her tracks, looking at that familiar figure.
So she’s here too…
“Who is that?”
Standing on the steps, the Imperial Consort narrowed her eyes slightly as she looked at the woman approaching in the distance.
“Your Ladyship, that’s Lady Cheng. His Majesty has summoned her,” the maid replied.
The Imperial Consort let out a quiet oh and took a few steps forward.
“So that’s the disciple of the immortal who can bring the dead back to life – Lady Cheng?” she said, a faint smile appearing on her lips. “Then I suppose there’s hope yet for Prince Qing’s recovery.”
Though her lips curved in a smile, a cold glint flickered in her eyes.
After dragging this matter out for so long and stirring up such commotion, compared to two years ago, curing Prince Qing now would earn the greatest merit, wouldn’t it?
What a Jiang–zhou fool indeed!
(The End of Volume 6)
