Xing Muzheng dismissed Xie Zhang and the others, leaving only the death row prisoner and father and son in the room.
Torches crackled and burned. Xing Muzheng asked Xing Pingchun: “Do you want your mother to accompany you to Yongan?”
Xing Pingchun knew his father had come tonight precisely for this matter. He replied, “Your son will follow Father’s instructions.”
Xing Muzheng said, “You still want it.”
Xing Pingchun seemed struck at the heart, feeling a bit embarrassed.
“When I was your age, I was already preparing to enter the battlefield,” said Xing Muzheng. “At that time, only your grandmother was at home, yet I still resolved to go. Do you know why?”
Xing Pingchun thought a moment, then shook his head: “Your son does not know.”
Xing Muzheng said, “At that time, Xili launched a great invasion. If the nation one day fell, small families could not survive either.”
Xing Pingchun considered, then nodded.
“A man must stand upright, not only never hiding behind women, but protecting them. Your mother is a woman who can hold up a household. She has protected you well in daily life, and that has left you with less blood in your veins.”
Hearing this, Xing Pingchun grew uneasy.
Xing Muzheng pointed at the death row prisoner. “When you go to Yongan, you must grow accustomed to death, and understand killing.”
He signaled for Xing Pingchun to draw the sword. The steel blade carried a cold light, though not dazzling—it had not yet been stained with blood. Xing Muzheng grasped his son’s wrist, guiding the tip of the sword straight at the prisoner’s heart. “When you kill, you must not hesitate. Find the fatal spot, and drive the blade in.”
His calm, measured voice sounded in Xing Pingchun’s ear, as if teaching him something as ordinary as eating. Xing Pingchun’s hand trembled. “Father!”
“Do not fear. He deserves death.” Xing Muzheng’s voice grew colder still.
“Father, your son does not wish to kill!” Xing Pingchun shook his head.
“If you don’t kill, others will kill you.” Xing Muzheng’s words sharpened. “This time you go to Yongan—at the slightest misstep, you will die. You go in name as a study companion, but in truth as a hostage. As long as you are in Yongan, the emperor holds the Marquis of Dingxi in his palm. When the day comes that we must clash, you will be the first to be struck! If you remain soft and merciful, you will only be meat on another’s chopping block. Do you want your mother to cradle your corpse and weep?”
Xing Pingchun shook his head violently, tears welling in his eyes.
“Then you must learn to kill.” Xing Muzheng said, “Kill him.”
Xing Pingchun’s mind was in chaos. He knew from this moment he would no longer be the idle young master of the Marquis’ household. He was about to walk along the edge of a cliff—one misstep and he would be dashed to pieces. But he could not retreat. Behind him were his mother, his father, and the unborn siblings yet to come. He must protect them.
He clenched his teeth, pressed down on the hilt, and drove the sword an inch into the prisoner’s heart. The prisoner let out a howl. The sensation of piercing flesh spread from his palm throughout his body. His grip slackened, nearly dropping the sword.
“Not enough. Be ruthless!”
Xing Muzheng barked harshly. Xing Pingchun turned his head aside, squeezed his eyes shut, and drove the blade hard into the prisoner’s heart.
Outside, Xie Zhang heard a shrill death cry. His ears twitched, his eyes lowered. Blame fate’s cruelty—this world was about to descend into chaos again.
Moments later, Xing Muzheng stepped out, followed by Xing Pingchun, his body stained with blood. Xie Zhang first looked at his lord’s impassive face, then at the young master behind him. The youthful innocence once on the boy’s face was now gone, his often-smiling features frozen like ice—almost a mirror of his father.
Xie Zhang’s heart jolted. He had thought the young master only resembled his father in face. Now he realized he was wrong—Xing Pingchun was truly the Marquis’ son.
Xing Muzheng did not tarry. He ordered Xie Zhang to handle the aftermath and took Xing Pingchun back to the Marquis’ estate.
He personally escorted Xing Pingchun back to his courtyard. Standing in the hall, he asked: “Do you still want your mother to go with you?”
Through the journey, Xing Pingchun’s trembling hand had steadied. At last he shook his head firmly. “Mother cannot go.”
Satisfied, Xing Muzheng asked again: “Do you resent me?”—for sending him alone into the wolves’ den.
Xing Pingchun pressed his lips together, then lifted his head. “Your son does not resent you. Your son knows Father acts to protect our family. Your son also goes to protect our family. This is your son’s responsibility! Before, your son was too timid, even wishing to have Mother accompany me into danger. Your son was wrong!”
Xing Muzheng nodded. “You have always cherished your mother. She now carries a child, she must not be taxed with worry. And as a son of the Xie family, your foremost duty is to protect your mother and your younger sister.”
At this, Xing Pingchun’s eyes grew resolute. “Your son understands. Tomorrow I will speak with Mother and ask her to remain in Yuzhou.”
Suddenly, pride welled up in Xing Muzheng. This was his and Jiaoniang’s child indeed—truly one who could stand tall beneath heaven.
He stepped forward and clapped Xing Pingchun firmly on the shoulder. “It is late. Wash and sleep. Tomorrow we will discuss the details.”
“Yes.”
Xing Muzheng gave a faint smile, then turned to leave. Xing Pingchun followed him to the door. Xing Muzheng paused on the threshold and looked back. Xing Pingchun raised his eyes—their gazes locked, father and son.
“This journey is a battlefield. Fight well. Your father will not let you die.” Xing Muzheng said, word by word.
Xing Pingchun’s chest surged. “Yes! Your son will obey Father’s command!”
