It was the third year of Xie Wuling’s exile.
From Chang’an to Yanbei was a thousand li of wilderness. Shackled, he had walked every step on his own two feet, into this harsh and desolate land where he knew no one.
Of the convicts escorted with him from Chang’an, one-third perished along the way, becoming nameless mounds by the roadside, lonely ghosts in a foreign land.
When the convoy reached Cangzhou, he too fell ill, burning with fever so fierce it felt as though his skull were steaming. When he tried to stand, his legs trembled uncontrollably.
The escorts began to mutter among themselvesm digging his grave would be a hassle, they said. He was tall and broad-shouldered; they’d have to dig his pit deeper than the rest.
Lying on the cold, hard floor of the post station, he stared at the full moon beyond the open window and thought:
I can’t die here.
He still had to return to Chang’an—to marry Jiaojiao.
If he died here, wouldn’t that make him a liar?
He had promised her. On that day they parted in Jinling, when he pressed that red bridal veil into her hands, he had sworn that he would take her back.
He couldn’t break his word.
He couldn’t.
Perhaps his fate truly was hard as iron. The escorts had already borrowed shovels from the inn to dig his grave but before long, the fever broke.
After that great illness, though he was skin and bones, his spirit revived. The escorts even gave him a nickname: Xie Divine Monkey—for surviving what no man should have, as if the gods had blessed him, and because he was so lean he resembled a monkey.
From then on, all along the journey, they called him by that name.
When they reached the northern lands, he was sent to a quarry. There, both prisoners and overseers called him the same—first “Brother Xie,” then “Old Xie,” then simply “Monkey.”
Soon, almost no one remembered his real name.
But Xie Wuling never forgot.
He was Xie Wuling—
the Xie Wuling who could scale any mountain,
the Xie Wuling who once swore to be unmatched in all the world,
the Xie Wuling who vowed to make Shen Yujiao his rightful wife.
Though a rough commoner now, unlearned and scarred by labor, he had a gift for winning people’s trust.
By the second month at the quarry, he had befriended the overseer. On the next “release day,” when prisoners were allowed brief time outside, he earned a single stick of incense’s worth of freedom.
He wouldn’t risk the man’s position for nothing. During that short span of time, he clutched the letter given to him by Huo Yunchang and ran straight for Yan Wang’s mansion.
Even when his heart pounded violently, his blood roaring in his ears, he didn’t slow.
This was his only chance to rise again.
He couldn’t live out his days breaking rocks until he died while that hypocrite Pei Shouzhen grew old beside his Jiaojiao.
Heaven had dealt him endless hardship, but perhaps also a sliver of fortune.
On the seventh day after he delivered the letter to the gatekeeper, the commander of Yan Wang’s guards came to the quarry. Seeing Xie Wuling, filthy and sweat-soaked, hauling stone, the man’s expression was grave.
“Wangye wants to see you.”
On the way to the residence, they passed a clothing shop. Xie Wuling’s eyes caught on a crimson round-collared robe displayed at the entrance.
He borrowed money from the guard commander to buy it.
The man was puzzled. “Once we arrive at Wangye’s mansion, you’ll be bathed and given clean clothes. Why waste money now?”
Xie Wuling carefully folded the robe, flashing white teeth in a grin. “My wife said I look best in red. Since I’m going to meet Wangye, I ought to dress sharp.”
The commander looked at his dirt-smeared face, where the proud lines of his high nose and deep-set eyes still showed through, and thought with mild disdain— Yan Wang valued ability above all. A handsome face would do no good. Though he’d never married, His Highness was no lover of men.
Yet when Xie Wuling, freshly washed and dressed in a crimson robe, appeared before Yan Wang, Sima Yi—the famed “Killer God of Yanbei”—actually lost his composure for once.
One breath, two breaths, three breaths…
The air in the study seemed to freeze. The commander of the guards counted roughly—Yan Wang had been staring at Xie Wuling’s face for at least thirty breaths!
Yes, the young man did clean up quite well… but… he was a man, after all!
The guard commander coughed to remind him, “Your Highness, the convict Xie Wuling has been brought in.”
Only then did Yan Wang return to his senses.
Even so, his gaze could not help but drift back to the youth’s face.
Though dark-skinned and gaunt, the young man inexplicably carried a trace of her features and those eyes.
Those eyes were almost identical to his own.
If he and Jingniang had ever fulfilled their bond, their child would probably have looked just like this.
Xie Wuling, meanwhile, felt more and more uneasy under that prolonged stare.
He thought that royals all had a few screws loose and he feared this Yan Wang might, like that eldest princess, harbor… improper inclinations toward him.
If that were the case, he might as well go back to the quarry and bash his head against a stone.
But to his surprise, Yan Wang questioned him just as Emperor Zhaoning once had, asking his age, birthplace, and whether his parents still lived.
When the questioning was done, his expression returned to normal, though there lingered in his gaze a faint warmth that neither Xie Wuling nor the guard commander could understand.
Yan Wang kept him for dinner, asked about his past deeds in Ningzhou and Chang’an, and finally decided to keep him at the Yan Wang estate, assigning him to the personal guard.
When Xie Wuling left his chambers, he was still uneasy. He turned to the guard commander and asked, “His Highness doesn’t have that kind of hobby, does he?”
The commander replied flatly, “No.”
After a pause, as though to reassure both Xie Wuling and himself, he added, “Most likely it’s because you came with General Huo’s recommendation. His Highness and old General Huo go way back, so naturally he treats you differently.”
Xie Wuling thought about it and found it reasonable.
After all, if Huo Shizi had written a personal letter of recommendation for him, that alone proved he was a man of talent.
And so, Xie Wuling stayed at Yan Wang’s residence and became one of his personal guards.
Though Yanbei was not under the direct control of the imperial court, Xie Wuling was still a criminal, a convict of treason, no less, so Yan Wang arranged a new identity for him.
When it came time to choose a name, Yan Wang asked, “Do you have one in mind?”
“Xie Nianjiao?” Xie Wuling suggested.
“…Pick another.”
“Xie Xiangjiao?”
“Another.”
“Xie Mujiao?”
Yan Wang frowned. “Must you be fixated on that word ‘Jiao’? You’re a man, if people hear this, they’ll laugh themselves silly!”
Xie Wuling was unconvinced. What was so funny about it? Anyone who laughed clearly had no taste.
Still, inward complaints aside, he obediently offered, “…Then Xie Shenhou*?”
*Xie Divine Monkey
Yan Wang: “…”
That was somehow worse.
In the end, Yan Wang bestowed him a name himself—Xie Guian*
*Return in peace
War is perilous and unpredictable, he said. May every campaign end with a safe return.
But Xie Wuling caught another meaning in it—
Gui’an, return to Chang’an.
“This is a good name,” he said with a grin, bowing deeply. “Your subordinate thanks Your Highness for the gift of a name. From now on, I shall be called Xie Guian.”
Yan Wang looked at the youth’s raised brows and smiling eyes, and for reasons he couldn’t name, felt a sudden, inexplicable sense of closeness.
It was a feeling he had never experienced before.
Later, he reflected, it must be that he was getting old.
They said that when a man ages, his heart softens, and he begins to crave the warmth of kinship, harmony, and reunion.
He himself had never married. To dispel Emperor Sima Rui’s suspicions, he had once made a pact before departing for Yanbei—
That he would guard the northern borders for life, never return to court, never rebel, never sire heirs. Should he break this oath, may his life be cut short.
And in turn, Sima Rui swore never to harm Lady Fang or her son, nor to depose her from her place as empress. Should he break that oath, he would die a miserable death.
After they swore, Sima Yi had drunk a bowl of sterilizing medicine right before Sima Rui’s eyes.
Since he could not marry the woman he loved, he had no wish to have children with another.
That one bowl of bitter decoction was the price he paid to ensure Lady Fang and her son’s safety.
Though Lady Fang later died of grief at twenty-seven, Sima Rui indeed never took another empress, and the crown prince lived on.
Thinking of the crown prince, Sima Yi sighed. That child’s spirit had been crushed under Sima Rui’s tyranny.
If the boy had been raised under his care, he could have grown into a fine young man like the brothers of the Fang family.
That regret had long lodged in Sima Yi’s heart.
And when Xie Wuling came to Yanbei, standing before him with those familiar eyes, the prince unconsciously began to project that old regret onto this youth who resembled both himself and Fang Shujing.
He began to train Xie Wuling deliberately, subjecting him to the harshest and most brutal trials, yet also giving him the stern care and encouragement of a father.
Fortunately, Xie Wuling did not disappoint.
He could endure hardship, shoulder responsibility, and possessed both a keen mind and perceptive insight.
And most importantly, he carried a natural charm that inspired trust and loyalty in those around him, a rare and invaluable quality in any commander.
Other than being a little hot-tempered, everything else about him satisfied Yan Wang.
Yan Wang had one hobby in his leisure time, personally forging weapons.
He knew well that to forge a fine sword, one must temper it in fierce fire, hammer it again and again, fold it repeatedly, then grind and polish it, and finally adorn it with gems, wood, and leather before it could be called complete.
And so, he used the same method he forged swords with to forge Xie Wuling.
In three years, the brash and impulsive youth he first met was transformed. Through the freezing winters of Yanbei where even water turned to ice, through the relentless drills of the northern camp day after day, and through countless life-and-death battles with the Rongdi tribes until all his immaturity and restlessness were tempered away. He settled, refined, and became a true general capable of standing on his own.
And those eyes which already resembled Yan Wang’s now carried the same sharp, commanding light.
Majestic and fearsome, a single glance enough to make men tremble.
The Rongdi called him the “Little God of Slaughter.”
Within the Yanbei army, rumors spread that Xie Wuling was Yan Wang’s illegitimate son.
Both men, hearing the gossip, were secretly pleased.
Xie Wuling respected Yan Wang deeply and was grateful for his devoted mentorship. In his heart, he had long regarded him as both mentor and stern father.
Yan Wang, who had neither wife nor child, knew Xie Wuling to be an orphan. A heart long desiring familial bond began to stir.
Thus, on his fifty-fifth birthday, in front of all the northern generals, Yan Wang publicly recognized Xie Wuling as his adopted son.
Naturally, Xie Wuling accepted without hesitation.
For a time, the father-and-son pair fought side by side, their might shaking all the northern plains.
Now, holding the imperial edict from Chang’an about the delayed military funds and recalling the recent intelligence brought back by spies, Xie Wuling walked slowly to Yan Wang’s side. “Godfather, I fear the court is about to fall into chaos.”
Yan Wang looked up at the tall, handsome young man in red before him. “And what do you plan to do?”
Xie Wuling’s eyes burned bright. “If trash like Sima Jin can sit on the dragon throne, why shouldn’t you?”
He paused, then lowered his voice. “The old emperor’s corpse has long gone cold. The promise you made him should’ve been buried in his coffin too, it no longer counts. Would you really stay here in this bitter, frozen land, toiling endlessly while enduring the arrogance of that dog emperor?”
“Today he dares to cut off Yanbei’s military funding; tomorrow he might seize your command altogether. In my humble view, rather than sitting and waiting to die, why not strike first, show him what you’re capable of.”
Yan Wang gave him a faint sidelong glance. “Are you eager to teach that young emperor a lesson, or just itching to go back and fight Pei Shouzhen for his wife?”
Embarrassment flashed across Xie Wuling’s face. He raised a fist to his lips and coughed lightly. “That’s not fair, Godfather. She’s my wife, how is that ‘fighting over’ with Pei Shouzhen?”
“The engagement between the Pei and Shen families’ children, even up here in the north I’ve heard of it. You’re a stubborn one. So many fine, unmarried young ladies, yet you fixate on another man’s wife.”
Yan Wang snorted. “You’ve been in the north for three years. The man’s probably got two children by now, and you’re still here alone.”
Xie Wuling’s smile faltered slightly.
After a moment, he lowered his head, thick lashes casting shadows that hid the dimness in his eyes. “I don’t care. She said she would marry me.”
Yan Wang frowned and was about to speak when he heard him continue softly —
“Godfather, everyone laughs at me, says I’m foolish, obsessed, unwilling to let go. But I… I truly love her.”
Under the flickering candlelight, Xie Wuling slowly lifted his gaze. In his eyes flickered confusion, bitterness, helplessness but above all, resolve.
“I know she has a husband and child, I know she might not be the best in your eyes… but I just like her. To me, she is the best. Others may be perfect but they’re not her.”
“You don’t know… whenever I think of her, my chest burns hot.”
He pressed a hand over his pounding heart, and a faint smile appeared on his lips. “If I could dream of her even once at night, I’d be happy for three days. I could drill from dawn to dusk without feeling tired. Meeting her in this lifetime, that’s the greatest blessing Heaven’s given me. Even if I can’t be her husband, if I could just stay by her side and see her once in a while… that’d be enough.”
But of course, he still wanted to be her husband, to stand beside her openly, to hold her, kiss her, to share every intimacy this world allowed.
Mountains and rivers stretch far between them; his longing was maddening.
He missed her terribly, desperately, endlessly.
Listening to his son’s earnest confession, seeing those familiar eyes filled with yearning and passion, Yan Wang slowly rubbed the bite scar at the base of his thumb and gave a faint, twisted smile.
How could he not know?
He knew.
