In the afternoon, heavy rain poured down as expected. Outside the tightly shut window, the howling wind and rain became the perfect lullaby. Su Yan clutched a large towel in bed, sleeping as if the world had turned upside down.
Jinghong Zhui, with a small jar of thick Huanggui wine hanging from his waist, was at the market buying food for Su Yan. Seeing the sky darken with leaden clouds and the rain about to pour, the vendors hurried to pack up. He had to pay three times the usual price to persuade one to make a final serving of lamb stew with flatbread. The steaming dish was sealed in an earthen pot, and braving the wind and rain, he used his light footwork to rush back to the inn.
Though the food and wine remained unscathed, he himself was drenched like a drowned rat.
He had the inn’s servant bring in a small stove and an ice bucket, placing both in the outer room. The jar of Huanggui wine was set inside the ice bucket to chill, while the lamb stew with flatbread was placed on the table—ready to be heated over the fire once Su Yan awoke for a fresh, hot meal.
Only after finishing these tasks did he strip off his soaking wet clothes and change into dry undergarments.
Su Yan murmured something in his sleep and turned over, seemingly on the verge of waking. Jinghong Zhui listened to his heavy, uneven breaths and sensed something was wrong. Lifting the curtain to enter the inner room, he found Su Yan’s face unnaturally flushed. A touch to his forehead confirmed a raging fever.
The grueling half-month journey from the capital to Shaanxi, combined with the extreme summer heat, had pushed his body to its limits. Last night, he had stayed up drafting memorials related to the execution grounds, further overtaxing himself. Today’s heated debate in the back hall of the yamen had been sustained purely by sheer willpower. Now that everything was settled, his tense spirit relaxed, allowing the accumulated strain to erupt into illness.
“I’ll get a doctor and have some servants look after you,” Jinghong Zhui said, turning to leave.
Su Yan grabbed his sleeve, his breath hot. “It’s a downpour outside—no doctor will come. Wait until the rain lets up.”
“If they refuse, I’ll drag them here.”
“There’s no need to go to such extremes… It’s just heatstroke and a fever, not a critical condition… Just help me cool down first.”
Seeing his insistence, Jinghong Zhui had no choice but to follow his instructions. He filled a waterskin with water and some crushed ice to make a cold pillow. Then, stripping Su Yan down to just a pair of briefs, he soaked a cloth in wine and began wiping him down.
“Focus on the neck, armpits, limbs, and the soles of the feet,” Su Yan muttered, recalling the physical cooling methods a doctor had once taught him in his past life. “And the inguinal area… the shuqi region.”
Jinghong Zhui hesitated. To wipe that area, he would have to pull down Su Yan’s waistband. “I fear that would be improper, my lord.”
Su Yan, burning with fever and estimating his temperature to be over 39°C, struggled to say, “We’re both men. What’s there to be embarrassed about? Besides, there’s no room for modesty when treating an illness.”
Only then did Jinghong Zhui lower the waistband slightly and begin wiping with the damp cloth. After several rounds, the wine-soaked fabric had dampened Su Yan’s briefs, turning the white cloth semi-transparent, revealing hints of his body beneath. No matter how disciplined his gaze, it was impossible not to notice.
His face remained tense, his hands steady, yet his ears burned hot. His breathing grew unsteady despite himself. He cursed his lack of self-control—years of rigorous training, yet here he was, failing. His heart pounded erratically, his inner garments clinging with sweat.
After several rounds of wiping, he suddenly stood up, walked to the ice bucket, and grabbed a handful of ice, rubbing it directly over his face. The biting cold seemed to drive out the internal heat, but the moment he sat back by the bed, his eyes fell on the pale jade body lying on the cool bamboo mat. The intoxicating scent of wine and feverish warmth radiating from Su Yan made him lightheaded, as if he were drunk.
Su Yan frowned, lips a deep red from the fever, occasionally letting out soft moans.
Jinghong Zhui clenched his jaw, unable to bear it any longer. He reached into his hidden weapon box, retrieved six long silver needles, and pierced them into his own acupoints, sealing his Ju Shaoyin Kidney Meridian. Only the sting of the needles anchoring him in pain allowed him to regain his usual imperturbable composure.
As the rain eased slightly, he immediately summoned two servants to attend to Su Yan, grabbed an umbrella, and left the inn to fetch a doctor.
Su Yan’s illness hit hard and lingered fiercely. Despite three days of medication, his fever persisted, coming and going unpredictably. He also suffered from dizziness, weakness, and aching limbs, consuming nothing but frequent sips of water. His appetite was entirely absent.
Following Su Yan’s orders, Prefect Zhou annulled outdated decrees, issued new government proclamations, and spent two days preparing for the public trial. On the third day, he visited the inn, hoping Su Yan could preside over the trial as the chief judge. Upon finding Su Yan severely ill and barely coherent, Zhou sought out a renowned physician and handled the trial himself.
By the fourth evening, Su Yan finally broke into a sweat, marking a significant improvement. After a warm bath, attended by Xiaobei and Xiaojing, he leaned weakly against a soft pillow, sipping fragrant and thick rice porridge, marveling at having weathered the ordeal.
“…I vaguely remember Prefect Zhou coming to see me?” he murmured weakly, his face pale. “Was it about the public trial?”
Jinghong Zhui replied, “He could manage such matters himself. No need to trouble you over it.”
“And what became of Qi Meng?”
“By law, he was to be executed after autumn, but Prefect Zhou, fearing complications, scheduled the execution for tomorrow at the third quarter of the noon hour.”
Su Yan acknowledged with a faint hum, finishing his porridge slowly. When Xiaobei tried to help him lie down, he declined, saying, “No more lying down. Four days in bed, and I feel like my bones have fallen apart. I need some fresh air.”
All three attendants opposed the idea, citing his unhealed condition. Su Yan compromised, settling for a stroll along the inn’s second-floor balcony.
Nightfall approached, and as the city lights began to twinkle one by one, Su Yan leaned against the railing. The long illness had sapped his strength, leaving him lightheaded. His right eyelid twitched uncontrollably.
“Left eye for fortune, right eye for trouble,” he muttered. “Could something be about to happen…”
—
Wang Wu and Wang Chen led a force of over a thousand men, approaching the outskirts of Yanan City as night fell.
Two days earlier, a messenger from their band had delivered a casket containing the severed heads of their parents and other family members. Overcome with grief and rage, the two brothers mourned bitterly before being consumed by fury.
Wang Chen, unsheathing his blade, smashed tables and chairs, roaring, “If this blood debt goes unpaid, we are no longer human! Gather our men at once! We’ll storm Yanan City, slaughter every official, and light the sky lanterns with that b*stard Lu’s head to honor our parents!”
Wang Wu, his bloodshot eyes filled with vengeance yet retaining a shred of reason, growled, “Our forces can handle guerrilla tactics, but we can’t take a city. We need to expand our ranks first, then strike when we’re stronger.”
He turned to the messenger. “Are you certain the captive is Qi Meng?”
“Absolutely. He reportedly snapped the ropes binding him, injuring two censors in the process. If that’s not Qi Meng, who else could it be? Unfortunately, he was subdued and locked up.”
“There were two censors? Aside from Lu, who was the other?”
“A newcomer, young and strikingly handsome, not at all like an official,” the messenger replied.
Wang Chen froze, muttering, “Could it be him? Impossible… He spoke of reforming horse administration and bringing peace to Shaanxi. How could he side with Lu?”
“Where Are the Good Officials? They’re All Covering for Each Other!” Wang Wu lashed out at his younger brother with a furious expression. “Our parents’ heads are right in front of us, and you’re still making excuses for our enemy? What kind of poison did that b*stard feed you to make you forget the debt of raising you? Do you want to be worse than a beast?”
Wang Chen glared back. “I haven’t forgotten! If this really has anything to do with him, then he’s a despicable fraud! I’ll personally cut off his head and use it to honor our parents’ graves!”
Wang Wu’s anger subsided slightly, though hatred still lingered in his voice. “This blood debt is something we must never forget. When the time is right, we will storm Yanan and kill every official to avenge our parents! But first, we need to rescue Qi Meng—he’s a fierce warrior, and if we plan to rise up, we’ll need him.”
Wang Chen nodded. “He’s our brother too. We can’t just sit and do nothing. We have to move quickly, or it’ll be too late to save him.”
With their decision made, the brothers gathered all their men, armed themselves, and set out for Yanan at full speed, traveling day and night.
Thanks to their reputation for righteousness and generosity, Wang Wu and Wang Chen were well-known in the region as chivalrous figures. As word spread that they were leading this charge, many displaced refugees and rebellious peasants eagerly joined their cause. By the time they reached Yanan, their ranks had swelled to over a thousand men.
This rapidly growing military force was no longer just a band of outlaws—it had become something more. Among their ranks were seasoned cavalrymen and former soldiers, all skilled in mounted archery. Moving like a silent predator, they crept toward Yanan under the cover of night, while the city’s unsuspecting guards remained oblivious.
Rather than launching a reckless assault, Wang Wu and Wang Chen ambushed a patrol of constables outside the city, killed them, and donned their uniforms. Disguised as lawmen escorting prisoners, they infiltrated the city gates. Once inside, they coordinated with their men outside, slaughtered the guards, and threw open the gates. A force of five hundred elite fighters charged straight for the government prison, while the rest, led by Yang Hui, remained outside to provide reinforcements.
Though the city’s garrison had been warned to stay alert for bandit raids, orders were one thing—actual preparedness was another. The officials assumed the city was secure. No one expected a sudden midnight attack, and caught completely off guard, the defenders were routed in moments. Forced into a panicked retreat, they desperately sounded the emergency alarm.
The sharp, frantic clang of the alarm bells rang through the city, each strike more urgent than the last, accompanied by desperate cries for help.
In theory, Yanan had a garrison command with five military units stationed there, totaling 5,600 troops. Upon hearing the alarm, they should have mobilized immediately.
However, after a year of constant disturbances under Censor Lu’s rule—where every minor theft resulted in drumming and alarm bells—the soldiers had become numb. What had once put them on edge now barely registered. When the alarm rang out that night, most simply assumed it was just another routine report of bandits being caught. As a result, they failed to react in time.
Taking advantage of the confusion, Wang Wu and Wang Chen fought their way into the prison, slaughtering every official and jailer in sight. They cut through the defenses like a hot knife through butter, breaking straight into Qi Meng’s cell.
Seeing his comrades arrive, Qi Meng burst into laughter. “H*ll yeah! Time to fight our way out! Kill! Kill! Kill!”
—
From the second-floor corridor of the inn, Su Yan gazed into the streets below. He saw a blazing trail of torches snaking rapidly toward the government office, moving like a fire dragon. A sense of unease stirred within him. Moments later, the piercing sound of alarm bells filled the night.
Yet, strangely, no troops deployed. The citizens of the city carried on as if nothing was happening, continuing with their daily routines.
The Embroidered Uniform Guard in the neighboring room heard the alarm bell and instinctively rushed out the door, calling to Su Yan, “Lord, it’s an enemy attack alert!”
Su Yan’s pale, sickly face was solemn. “Indeed. I warned Prefect Zhou to be wary of bandits breaking into the prison, but I didn’t expect the garrison to remain so lax. I fear this could escalate into a major incident. Do you have any way to alert nearby garrisons and request reinforcements?”
Chu Yuan replied, “I have signal arrows filled with oil. When shot into the air, they explode to alert for enemy attacks. It’s a standard military method.”
“Quick! Shoot in all four directions—east, west, south, and north. Use as many as we have!”
The Embroidered Uniform Guard immediately fetched the signal arrows and began firing them. Chu Yuan turned to Su Yan and said, “The city isn’t safe. Lord, please leave with us as soon as possible.”
Su Yan shook his head. “I cannot leave. A large number of bandits have stormed Yanan City. If the city garrison is left without leadership, the situation could spiral out of control, and it won’t just be about breaking into the prison anymore.”
Chu Yuan grew anxious. “The fate of Yanan City lies with the local officials, and the surrounding garrisons have been notified. Lord, you’ve already done your duty. Why risk your life? Please, come with us immediately!”
Su Yan’s voice was calm. “Prefect Zhou is weak and likely incapable of handling this. I must stay to help him. Furthermore, if I can’t even ensure the safety of one city, how can I talk about governing an entire prefecture or fulfilling my duties as a censor? If I abandon the city tonight, earning the reputation of a ‘runaway censor,’ how could I ever face the officials and citizens of Shaanxi again? My decision is made. Don’t try to persuade me further.”
“The Embroidered Uniform Guard have no concern for other matters and only follow the Emperor’s orders.” Chu Yuan cupped his hands toward Su Yan. “The Emperor’s command is to prioritize your safety above all else. If you insist on staying, don’t blame me for resorting to force.”
Su Yan took a step back, wary. “What are you trying to do?”
“It’s not my wish to use force, Sir. Please don’t make this difficult for us.” Chu Yuan signaled to two Embroidered Uniform Guard nearby, motioning for them to move behind Su Yan and knock him out as gently as possible.
Realizing the danger, Su Yan suddenly turned and darted into his guest room, slamming the door shut and locking it.
Jinghong Zhui, just returning from the latrine, noticed Su Yan’s tense expression and asked, “What’s going on?”
Su Yan pushed open the window. “You know qinggong, right? Take me to the magistrate’s office first—I’ll explain the rest on the way!”
