On the tenth day of the ninth month, in the eleventh year of Changshun, Emperor Wu, Yang Zao, rose before the first light of dawn. At that hour, outside his sleeping chambers the sky was full of stars, and this silent world seemed to hold only him.

Lately Yang Zao had lost his ability to sleep, often wondering—was it truly the fate of Great Liang’s common people to suffer so? He knew he had no particular talent; all he asked of himself was that even if he couldn’t give them prosperity, he could at least maintain some stability.

Now even that stability was gone. Would they truly have to take up arms again, and let blood flow for ten thousand li?

He sighed with regret—my rivers running clear, my seas at peace, my ten thousand people… In the distance, the dawn drums and evening bells sounded, and the night-duty eunuchs began moving, bringing him his ceremonial robes.

Today was a grand court session!

The imposing Changxin Hall slowly opened, and the ministers fell silent, filing in to stand in their two rows, waiting.

The sky was still dim; inside the hall, great candles blazed, casting light on the armor of many old generals.

Lately it had become common for many of the Shao Shang faction’s veteran generals to attend court in half-armor, as if to show they were still fit to march again, waiting for Emperor Wu to muster troops.

But alas, even the fiercest old warhorse grows truly old. Marquis Chang swayed on his feet—even half armor weighed over twenty pounds—and Chang Mianshen felt he could no longer bear it, his head spinning as he nearly collapsed, only to be caught and supported by someone’s hand.

Marquis Chang turned to look—it was his own son, Chang Lianfang.

Father and son had grown more distant over the years, yet of the Chang family, only this youngest son still had standing enough to stand here in Changxin Hall.

Chang Lianfang whispered in his father’s ear: “Father is advanced in years. Let your son go in your place—why insist on matching yourself against them?”

But Chang Mianshen said proudly: “Twenty years ago, that old scoundrel Tan Shouyi looked down on my Chang family. I’ve waited twenty years for this. I need our Emperor to see that I can still mount a horse, still hold a spear—and fight eight thousand li for His Majesty once more!”

Chang Lianfang nodded: “With your son here, we’ll take eighty thousand li.”

Marquis Chang was moved, and was about to pat his son’s hand when he heard the eunuch outside announce: “The Emperor arrives!”

Both rows knelt, and Emperor Wu walked into the hall step by step, backlit by the dawn. Some minister heard a metallic clang and looked up in astonishment, eyes going wide.

Their Emperor of Great Liang had once again donned the Imperial armor, hand resting on the Great Liang Kunlun sword, walking step by step, solid and dignified, toward the throne.

In that instant, every minister’s heart echoed with the same thought.

The Emperor rides to war in person!

Watching his back, they all thought—this is our sovereign…

Rites—begin!

Emperor Wu sat down, about to speak of what he’d contemplated beneath the stars and the decision he’d reached.

But then an urgent report sounded from beyond the outer gate.

In that same instant, every minister’s heart echoed with the same thought—Tan Shouyi had finally come.

His hand tightened slightly on the Kunlun sword’s hilt, and Emperor Wu said coldly: “Admit him!”

Before long, a mud-covered middle-aged official limped into the hall. All eyes followed him to the throne, where he knelt: “Yan Guanyi of Qushang County kowtows before Your Majesty.”

Qushang County bordered Jindian directly, and was certain to be the first city attacked once Tan Shouyi’s rebel army marched out to make war.

This Yan Guanyi was the county magistrate of Qushang.

Emperor Wu fell silent, his tone cold and severe: “Qushang County—why are you not at your post at a time like this? How dare you abandon an entire city’s people and desert your duty to come to Yandu? Has Qushang fallen?”

The assembled ministers stared fixedly at Yan Guanyi.

Yan Guanyi’s expression showed something strange, hard to read—as if half-mad, half-deranged—and he kowtowed several times rapidly, begging forgiveness: “Your Majesty, forgive this crime… this lowly official encountered a, a, a strange matter, a matter… it’s, actually, because the matter is of such gravity that I was forced to abandon my post and come report…”

Emperor Wu, noting his strange expression, asked: “What exactly happened?”

Yan Guanyi’s mouth opened and closed, and with a strange, half-smiling expression he said: “Your Majesty, Tan Shouyi—that old traitor—seems to be dead?”

The hall erupted in an uproar of voices, ministers murmuring among themselves. Emperor Wu shot up in alarm, strode down the steps, and first roared at the assembled ministers: “Silence!”

Then he fixed his gaze on Yan Guanyi: “What did you say? Say it again? It sounded as though you said Tan Shouyi… is dead?”

“Ah!”

Yan Guanyi nodded firmly: “This—this matter, this lowly official doesn’t know how, how, how to report it properly, it’s… this lowly official would like some water.”

Emperor Wu, furious, silently cursed the Ministry of Personnel for having chosen a stammering official.

Yan Guanyi wasn’t actually a stammerer—he was simply out of his wits, feeling as though he’d gone mad, everything unreal. Ten days of hard travel had cracked his lips until they bled, and blood kept trickling out when he spoke; his mind was full of scenes, yet the words that came out couldn’t seem to find the point.

Seeing him in such a pitiful state, Emperor Wu suppressed his temper and ordered: “Someone, bring him a bowl of water.”

Zhang Minwang personally carried over a bowl of water—the first time in his life he’d served a mere seventh-rank county magistrate.

Once Yan Guanyi had gulped down the water, his wits returned somewhat, and he looked at Emperor Wu and said: “Your Majesty! If this matter holds no hidden trickery, this lowly official cannot say—could it be some rebel scheme? In any case, according to what this lowly official saw at the scene, it’s not just Tan Shouyi—of the sixty-seven chief rebels listed on the court’s wanted roster, including Tan the traitor himself, every single head was taken overnight!”

A second uproar of voices rang out.

Emperor Wu roared furiously: “All of you, shut your mouths!”

He hadn’t addressed himself so informally in a long time—this was genuine urgency.

Once the ministers had managed to suppress their chattering, Emperor Wu fixed Yan Guanyi with a stern look: “Don’t panic. I’ll pardon you of any fault for now. Just tell me this matter from beginning to end, in full detail.”

Yan Guanyi nodded: “Yes!”

Fifteen days earlier, Qushang County, bordering Jindian, had found itself in dire straits—Tan Shouyi’s great army pressed to within fifteen li of the border, and standing at height, one could see the enemy’s cooking fires each day.

Yan Guanyi, knowing at the time that death was near-certain, prepared as best he could—writing daily petitions for reinforcements to the court, closing the city gates, gathering the citizens, and hastily crafting whatever defensive tools he could, however inadequate.

But reinforcements never came, wait as he might, day after day.

He dared not sally out; meanwhile the city’s food stores dwindled daily, and despair grew.

Yet the rebel army never came either—waiting and waiting, no sign of them—until fifteen days ago, when Yan Guanyi finally saw a great host of soldiers approaching in the distance… they had finally come.

By then the city’s food had nearly run out entirely. Yan Guanyi had tucked a vial of poison into his sleeve, standing on the wall, thinking he ought at least to trade curses with them for the sake of dignity before accepting death resolutely…

But who could have imagined—when the rebel troops drew near, they simply surrendered on the spot beneath the walls?

Yan Guanyi hadn’t believed it at first, not until the rebel troops pushed forward carts bearing sixty-seven corpses did he begin to believe it might be true. Clutching his poison, he had himself lowered by basket to personally inspect the bodies.

What followed was simple enough—it seemed to be true. Every single one of the Tan family army’s commanding generals who held real authority was dead. As for the ordinary soldiers left behind, in truth they’d never wanted to fight this war in the first place—only military orders had bound them.

With their commander dead, no one dared celebrate too openly. After discussing among themselves, they carried the headless bodies forward and surrendered.

And so this county magistrate of Qushang, commanding a mere handful of fewer than two hundred constables, accepted the surrender of nearly a hundred thousand troops?

Quite possibly the pinnacle of an official career—a feat worthy of the history books.

Yan Guanyi hadn’t dared decide anything on his own authority. His first act after accepting the surrender was—damn it, Qushang County couldn’t possibly feed a hundred thousand troops, yet he didn’t dare release them either, so he’d done his utmost to keep them contained where they were, then brought the headless corpse of the rebel leader Tan Shouyi to Yandu to report.

Having finally finished his account, Yan Guanyi summed up with a note of relief: “Your Majesty, heaven has blessed us! Great Liang is finally at peace. It’s only that this lowly official left ten thousand troops encamped outside the county—they cannot be fed there. This lowly official estimates that at most within a month, if the court doesn’t supply provisions promptly, disaster will strike again.”

Having said this, Yan Guanyi glanced cautiously at Emperor Wu.

Emperor Wu was utterly stunned. He gave up all pretense of composure, and partway through Yan Guanyi’s account, had simply sat down on the steps… his legs gone weak.

By the time Yan Guanyi finished, no one dared disturb the Emperor’s stunned silence, and everyone stood there dazed along with him, until Emperor Wu finally looked, somewhat bewildered, at Wen Fengshu: “Minister Wen?”

Wen Fengshu hurried forward and knelt: “Congratulations, Your Highness…”

The other ministers were about to follow suit in congratulation, but Emperor Wu cut them off irritably. He’d led troops himself once; no one understood better than him just how terrifying it was for a hundred thousand men to go hungry.

“Aiya, don’t put on these empty formalities, congratulations indeed—what is there to celebrate? This matter isn’t even confirmed yet. Who knows if that headless corpse is really Tan Shouyi, or some rebel trick. Provisions, provisions—Minister Wen?”

Wen Fengshu swallowed hard, mentally calculating the reserves in each region’s granaries. He’d been coordinating provisions constantly these past days and knew the figures well—regardless of anything else, provisions remained the most urgent matter to resolve.

Just as he was deep in thought, a commotion like a rushing tide suddenly surged from outside the Great Liang Palace, and the assembled Liang ministers heard—outside the palace, bells, drums, chimes, hand-bells, and rattle-drums all sounding at once?

Who would dare treat these ceremonial instruments as mere toys?

Historical record has it that Yu the Great hung a bell, drum, chime, hand-bell, and rattle-drum outside his gate to invite counsel—he declared: those who wish to instruct me on matters of governance, strike the bell; those who wish to report on specific circumstances, shake the hand-bell; those who wish to pour out their hearts to me, strike the chime; those with grievances, lawsuits, or matters of right and wrong to discuss, shake the rattle-drum.

This is the origin of the phrase “hanging the rattle-drum, raising the hand-bell.”

Later rulers, wishing to display their reverence for the sages of old, would also hang these instruments—though by then they were mere decoration, and by later dynasties, only the drum remained in practice.

In Great Liang’s founding years, Huo Qiqian had thought to strike these instruments.

In truth, of the full set of five, in her past life she had only ever struck the drum.

But now, she wanted to say to Yang Zao—old lady here is going to teach you a lesson in worldly wisdom: money, my friend, is king. No—money, my lady, is queen.

Old lady also wants to give you a piece of feedback: you’ve been rather harsh in how you handle things—Chen Dasheng caused trouble, but why bully my father-in-law over it? Old lady also wants to pour her heart out to you: this Great Liang dynasty is actually not bad at all, and Chen Dasheng isn’t bad either. And finally, old lady is going to shake this rattle-drum to comment on how everything in this world has its causes and consequences—though I’m only a woman, still, this era of peace and prosperity, we’ve helped keep it stable for you!

Even though I’m nothing more than a common woman.

On the road leading to the Great Liang Palace, mule- and horse-drawn carts numbered in the hundreds, all piled high with wealth—coral, antique porcelain vases, jeweled ornamental trees, chests full of gold ingots, silver ingots, gold fish-shaped tokens, silver fish-shaped tokens, great strings of bright copper coins, ancient renowned zithers bundled in hemp rope, sacks stuffed with the writing implements of past sages…

The people of Yandu, having just come into a windfall of wealth from all this passing by, thought to themselves—hm, it seemed money had become somehow worthless, there was simply so much of it now…

Emperor Wu, leading his ministers, came out together to witness this scene, and Minister Wen Fengshu, so poor he’d nearly need to sell the clothes off his back, promptly fainted dead away.

He let out a sound: “Gah—!”

Emperor Wu’s steps grew heavy, his teeth chattering, his legs trembling, as he walked step by step toward the front, first surveying the seemingly endless line of wealth-laden carts, then finally noticing, at the very front, seven women standing in neat formation, each dressed in formal court robes befitting their rank.

Seeing the Emperor’s attention finally on them, Huo Qiqian led the group in kneeling, and one spoke for all of them: “She Household’s Huo Shi! Yu Household’s Ding Shi, Tong Household’s Zhang Shi, Ma Household’s Pan Shi, Hu Household’s Yuwen Shi, Cui Household’s Chai Shi, Gong Household’s Ge Shi, greeting Your Majesty. May Your Majesty enjoy ten thousand blessings.”

This dreamlike scene, this mountain of gold and sea of silver, left the assembled Liang ruler and ministers somewhat flustered. After a long moment, the Emperor looked at Huo Qiqian’s face and asked: “Madam Huo, what is this?”

Huo Qiqian looked up and answered properly: “Money, Your Majesty.”

You’re always complaining about being poor—isn’t this exactly what you wanted?

Emperor Wu, incredulous, forced the words out from his throat: “Money—where, where did you get all this money?”

Huo Qiqian blinked innocently: “In the final year of the Hongshun era, this humble woman’s adoptive father brought me to a certain place, pointed at this wealth, and said—this was to be this humble woman’s dowry!”

Emperor Wu, furious: “Nonsense.”

He was Emperor of an entire nation, and even he was stingy when it came to dowries for his own princesses—did she think her father was some god of wealth?

Suppressing his surging emotions, Emperor Wu walked to the nearest cart, reached out, and picked up a single ingot of gold, turning it over. Ah—the Hongshun era’s treasury seal.

Ah. He understood now. This was the previous dynasty’s national treasury.

With this, he turned, gripping this absurdly heavy piece of gold, and walked before Huo Qiqian, holding up the inscription for her to see: “This is your dowry?”

Huo Qiqian answered with perfect composure: “That’s right. That’s exactly what my adoptive father said.”

Emperor Wu’s teeth clicked together—thoroughly outmaneuvered, yet strangely, not entirely displeased—and he asked with a half-smile: “Don’t tell me, Madam Huo, that you’re actually a princess of the previous dynasty?”

Huo Qiqian shook her head: “No, indeed not. This humble woman’s adoptive father was the previous dynasty’s Chief Palace Eunuch, surnamed Liao. Your Majesty may verify this easily.”

Emperor Wu immediately thought of someone, and said quietly: “Liao Zhi?”

This eunuch named Liao Zhi had once been the late Xiandi’s most trusted confidant, and later, to groom the next generation of rulers, the Xiandi had assigned him to attend the Sixth Prince.

Liao Zhi was a formidably capable man—beyond his uncanny, unfathomable martial skill, his conduct in the previous dynasty had left considerable traces, even enough to merit mention in the history books.

All told, if such a man had left his fortune to an adopted daughter, it made perfect sense. If the Xiandi had wanted to relocate the national treasury somewhere safe, Liao Zhi would certainly have been his first choice for the task.

No wonder the treasury had been empty when the army entered the capital—it had all been given away as a dowry for an adopted daughter.

Huo Qiqian, sharp of hearing, caught this and thought—ah, so that old eunuch’s name was Liao Zhi. I’ll set up a memorial tablet for him next year.

Looking up at the seemingly endless line of carts, Emperor Wu’s expression wavered between joy and sorrow—he wasn’t sure what to make of today. Had he perhaps woken up under some especially auspicious star?

I need to control myself. But who’s going to tell me how?

This, this, this—this was money.

And so he looked at Huo Qiqian and said: “Since… this is the case, why exactly have you come today?”

Seeing the women still kneeling, and having brought so much wealth with them, Emperor Wu felt somewhat embarrassed, and coughed: “Um… Madam Huo, please rise and speak.”

But Huo Qiqian didn’t rise, remaining kneeling: “Your Majesty, this humble woman returned from a long journey only yesterday, and upon reaching home learned that my wretched husband had violated the law of the state—truly an unpardonable crime, deserving ten thousand deaths! Yet, my husband’s grandmother is elderly, my father-in-law needs care, and my helpless young son, though not yet grown, has already become the offspring of a traitor to the state through no fault of his own! If he alone must die, so be it—but why should his brothers and kin burn alongside him for the same crime!”

Huo Qiqian kowtowed again and said clearly: “This humble woman, foolish as she is, doesn’t know what else to do, so today I’ve come to offer gold before the throne, hoping to abide by the law of the state—he has committed a heaven-reaching crime, and I, his wife, have this dowry of gold. I have specially come to pay this fine in gold, hoping to redeem his crime. I beg Your Majesty’s mercy, to pardon his offense!”

Emperor Wu, looking at this fortune, thought—even if Tan Shouyi himself offered me this much money, I would pardon him. Among all people under heaven, including myself, not one is worth this much.

Yet this woman had cast it aside without hesitation.

He was truly, sincerely impressed.

Not only him—among the surrounding officials and the crowds of onlookers, more than half secretly thought: you fool, with this much money, you’re buying back a walking disaster—are you insane?

With this much money, even if you stayed a widow forever, every man under heaven would bow at your feet. Never mind ordinary men—even the Emperor himself, if you threw this much wealth at him, you could become Empress and no one could say otherwise.

Why would anyone be so foolish?

Emperor Wu was in an excellent mood, but to maintain appearances he kept his expression stern, though the corner of his mouth twitched with suppressed laughter as he said: “Madam Huo, do you understand what crime Chen Dasheng has committed?”

At these words, the hearts of the common folk throughout the realm echoed as one—pah!

Huo Qiqian looked up, remembering what her father-in-law had told her of the likely consequences, and said earnestly: “Your Majesty, mere money is of course no great matter, but as he has committed a crime that shakes the very foundation of the state…”

Emperor Wu coughed, somewhat embarrassed, trying to stop this naive woman from rambling on—but then he heard words like a thunderclap from clear sky. This naive woman said: “…this humble woman also has the sixty-seven heads of the Tan family’s rebel leaders to offer Your Majesty, hoping to redeem his crime! I beg Your Majesty’s mercy!”

“Gah—!”

Another thud sounded as someone else fainted. Emperor Wu, with no time to turn and look, simply stared at Huo Qiqian in stunned disbelief, stammering: “You said—you, you have what?”

Huo Qiqian raised her hands and bowed properly: “This humble woman has the sixty-seven rebel leaders’ heads, which may also serve as payment for the gold fine.”

Ah, what manner of divine woman is this? I should build her a temple, cast her a golden statue.

But this cunning Emperor, suppressing his laughter, asked with a strange tone: “And… the heads themselves?”

Huo Qiqian turned and called out: “An’er, bring forward the rebel leaders’ heads.”

Before long, everyone saw the missing young Prince, along with the Earl of Xicheng, slowly driving up a large ox cart to the throne.

She Wanlin got down from the cart, and together with Xie Ximu paid respects to Emperor Wu. Emperor Wu, looking at the enormous wooden crate, said gravely: “No need for such formality. That… is Tan Shouyi within?”

She Wanlin rolled his eyes inwardly, but answered sincerely aloud: “Your Majesty, indeed, these are the sixty-seven heads of Tan Shouyi and the other rebel leaders.”

Emperor Wu strode forward eagerly, reaching to open the crate himself, but She Wanlin quickly jumped up to stop him: “Your Majesty, though these items have been packed in ash, the smell is quite strong…”

Xie Ximu nodded repeatedly: “Right, you should find somewhere else to have them verified properly. This is the entrance to the Great Liang Palace—not an auspicious place for this.”

This one had never had much regard for rank or hierarchy in his speech.

Emperor Wu, in no mood to take offense, simply nodded readily: “Right, right, right. Someone, Sun Shouyi, Minister Sun!”

Sun Shouyi bounded forward, beaming: “Here, here, here, this old official is here.”

He turned and gave this small family a thumbs up.

He couldn’t help but admire them—whether it was Madam Huo’s boldness of spirit or her breathtaking methods.

The number sixty-seven left the entire court without a shred of doubt—every piece of the puzzle now fit together.

Emperor Wu waved his sleeve: “You’re no longer young, why so flustered—go on, hurry down and verify it…”

You’re the one stammering yourself.

And so Sun Shouyi took command, leading a group down to verify the heads with the cart.

It didn’t take long before everyone heard a wail, and Sun Shouyi came stumbling back, clutching a small labeled wooden box.

He came forward and opened it—the smell nearly knocked Emperor Wu backward, yet he wouldn’t step away, staring fixedly at Sun Shouyi and asking: “Minister Sun?”

Sun Shouyi pointed at the shriveled, dried head and wept: “It’s true, Your Majesty, this is indeed the traitor Tan. This old official served alongside him at court for years, I couldn’t be mistaken, this is truly him! Heaven protects Great Liang, Your Majesty… heaven protects Great Liang!”

Emperor Wu, overcome, glanced once more at the box, then turned and walked solemnly to Huo Qiqian, bending to personally help her rise: “You…”

The Emperor of an entire nation felt, in this moment, that anything he might say would be inadequate. Thinking this, he placed his hands before himself and bowed slightly: “Madam Huo, on behalf of all the people under heaven, I thank you.”

At these words from the Emperor, the assembled ministers bowed silently, and the crowds along the street bowed deeply in gratitude.

Huo Qiqian’s face flushed instantly red, and her heart, which had been aching from giving up so much wealth, suddenly felt whole again.

She thought: this lifetime, it was worth it.

Turning to look at her sisters-in-law, she smiled and returned the bow: “May Great Liang’s rivers and mountains flourish forever, may the nation be prosperous and the people at peace!”

The rebel heads and the wealth were carried away, and Chen Dasheng’s crimes could no longer reasonably be held against him.

Not only were his crimes forgiven—his entire family now had rendered great service to the state.

Hearing Emperor Wu order the pardon of Chen Dasheng and the others, Huo Qiqian’s face finally broke into a smile, and she was about to offer thanks and take her leave when she noticed the entire court, even the Emperor himself, watching her with eyes full of admiration.

Emperor Wu, still moved, asked with a smile: “Madam Huo, do you realize this deal of yours seems to have been quite a loss?”

Huo Qiqian answered seriously: “Your Majesty, this humble woman doesn’t consider it a loss. Chen Dasheng and the others—they’re worth this price.”

For his past life sacrificed for the nation, for this life spent growing old together by his side—all I ever wanted was for my family to be whole.

At this, everyone present was truly, deeply impressed.

Emperor Wu laughed heartily and sighed: “Taking heads from within a hundred-thousand-strong army—how did you manage that, Madam Huo?”

Huo Qiqian laughed at this: “Your Majesty forgets—in Great Liang’s founding years, you bestowed a shrine upon this humble woman. This unworthy one has a nickname in the martial world, too—they call me… the Elm Tree Mother… heh…”

On the fifteenth day of the ninth month, in the eleventh year of Changshun, ten thousand Imperial guards of Great Liang set out with ample provisions to finish matters in Jindian.

Before the army departed, Emperor Wu personally presided over the ceremony, executing Tan Weixin and other convicted criminals before the troops as a sacrifice to the banner, and from that day, the once-formidable Tan family army vanished into the dust of history.

This time Emperor Wu did not mobilize the full three armies, using only the twenty-eight companies of the Yandu Imperial Guard—he had no wish to raise another overgrown army ever again.

And with this credit for suppressing the rebellion, he had no wish to hand it to any family either.

So, having come into a windfall, this Emperor turned out to be quite the miser after all.

Five days after the army departed, on the twentieth day of the ninth month, half the officials of the court came to the ten-li pavilion outside Yandu to see off Chen Dasheng and his entire family, returning home.

It wasn’t exile—only that once Chen Dasheng emerged from prison, first learning he’d become the single most expensive object in the entire realm, and then hearing that his lifelong vendetta had been avenged—yet not by his own hand?

His heart felt both a sense of loss and hollow emptiness.

Though His Majesty no longer held it against him, he no longer wished to serve as an official—no matter what anyone said.

Forget it, I’m done. My wife’s dowry is gone too—am I supposed to keep kowtowing to you at court every day after that?

There was simply no reason in the world for that.

It wasn’t just him—all the old blade-brothers felt the same way. None of them wished to have anything more to do with the court.

For years, these men had sustained themselves purely on a single breath of resolve, and now, that resolve spent, none of them knew quite how to live out the rest of their lives.

They all wanted to find some quiet place, to seriously think through how to live from here on.

As it happened, this year the court’s long-running river engineering project was finally being completed, and the Three Rivers had returned to their proper courses; the once-flooded fertile fields, tens of thousands of mu, reappeared. Chen Dasheng’s family’s ancestral graves, at long last, resurfaced above the water.

And so Chen Dasheng submitted a petition to resign his post and return home—first, to properly gather his ancestors’ bones for reburial, and second, because he wished to retire to the mountains and spend the rest of his life making amends to his wife as a devoted, humble husband.

With Chen Dasheng leaving, Prince She Qingling decided he too would give up his title and leave—which nearly drove Emperor Wu to fury.

After endless rounds of this back-and-forth, Emperor Wu finally relented and let them go.

At the ten-li pavilion, there was always a farewell. Chen Dasheng personally drove the carriage, and after they’d traveled a while, he heard Gaoxing calling out from the back: “Father, look, someone’s chasing after us, look, he’s running so fast…”

Along the official road, a young man in coarse cloth ran desperately after them, chasing, chasing.

She Wanlin, curious, turned to look, and recognizing the figure, laughed: “Ah! It’s Yangdan! Why didn’t he march out with the army?”

Yangdan?

Chen Dasheng’s expression turned solemn, and he pulled the reins to stop the carriage.

Before long, the young man caught up to the carriage, panting for breath. He said nothing, only stared at them all with a bewildered, lost expression.

Chen Dasheng got down from the carriage and looked at him. After a long moment he asked: “What’s your name?”

The young man bit his lip: “Yang—Yangdan.” He glanced at She Wanlin and said with certainty: “She Yangdan!”

I have no family left, and I don’t know where to go. If I take your family’s surname, become your son, would that give me a home?

Chen Dasheng had remained silent ever since leaving prison, but hearing this name, his tiger eyes suddenly reddened, and tears fell.

Yangdan, somewhat afraid of him, said carefully: “I’ll be your son, take care of you in your old age, see you to your grave—is that all right?”

Chen Dasheng bared his teeth in a grin and rubbed his head: “It’s all right. Good son! Why wouldn’t it be all right? It’s all right!”

He took hold of Yangdan’s hand, half-embraced him, and helped him up into the carriage, then turned to She Wanlin and said: “This is your younger brother.”

She Wanlin laughed: “Wonderful, wonderful!”

Chen Dasheng finished, then turned solemnly to Yangdan and said: “Not She Yangdan. You’re Chen Yangdan.”

With that, he cracked the whip: “Let’s go—we’re going home!”

But before this joy could even fully sink in, he felt his head struck by a cane, and the old lady in the carriage cursed bitterly: “You—why didn’t you just die! With that much money, why didn’t you just go and die…”

The old lady had originally lost her wits, but ever since the family’s troubles began, she’d grown miraculously sharper day by day—more and more clear-headed, and while Huo Qiqian was away, she’d watched over her great-grandson day and night, never taking her eyes off him for a moment.

After Chen Dasheng got out of prison, the family should have been fully reunited—but once Qi Qian’er had given up her fortune to pay the gold fine, the old lady’s recovery became complete.

It seemed getting rich could cure a hundred ailments—and going broke wasn’t far behind in effect.

The old lady grew more and more resentful thinking about it—with all that money, if only Chen Dasheng had died instead, the Old Chen family’s descendants could have lived off it for a thousand years.

Such a terrible deal.

From that day on, the back of Chen Dasheng’s head became a target for misfortune—whenever the old lady remembered, she’d give him a whack. Remembered again, whacked again.

“Ai—!”

Chen Dasheng the sinner sighed, driving the carriage onward, enduring the nagging the whole way, feeling that the rest of his life was going to be rough indeed.

This time Huo Qiqian didn’t intervene at all—she simply sat in the carriage, sharing this year’s new tangerines with her father-in-law.

Though they’d given up their fortune, the whole family reunited was still cause for happiness—but they’d only traveled twenty or thirty li out of the city when they heard fast hoofbeats approaching from behind, someone calling out: “Brother… brother…”

Huo Qiqian turned to look and recognized the rider, saying in surprise: “Isn’t that Liuhao? Wasn’t he serving as acting head of the Imperial Guard? Why isn’t he in the palace on duty?”

Xie Liuhao’s eyes blinked as he reached them, then fell from his horse. Chen Dasheng and the others rushed to help him up, and Xie Liuhao grabbed Chen Dasheng’s hand: “Brother! The Second Prince, Yang Zhen, and Meng Dichen have rebelled! They’ve brought the old recluses from beneath the Imperial mausoleum, and the hidden forces of the Nine Provinces, and broken into the inner palace…”

Only then did everyone notice Xie Liuhao was covered in blood, though no one could tell exactly where he was wounded.

Chen Dasheng blinked: “Doesn’t His Majesty still have Gu Hongyun and the others?”

Xie Liuhao’s lips had turned pale, and he stammered: “Gu Hongyun is already dead… The Yandu Imperial Guard has marched out, the palace’s defenses are… lacking…” Grievously wounded, he passed out before he could finish speaking.

Ugly Girl leapt down from the cart behind them and rushed forward to tend to him.

Chen Dasheng stood frozen, motionless, for a long moment, until he heard his wife say from behind him: “Go. He’s never treated you poorly. Without his recognition and favor, you wouldn’t have what you have today.”

The young woman standing in the sunlight held out a worn blade, smiling broad and unrestrained.

Chen Dasheng walked over, took the blade in one hand, pulled his wife’s head close with the other, and kissed her forehead in front of everyone: “For the next ten lifetimes, a hundred lifetimes—I’m yours completely!”

Huo Qiqian laughed softly: “You already paid the price—now you want to weasel out of the debt too!”

Gaoxing covered her little sister’s eyes and said, indignant, to her grandfather: “Grandfather, aren’t you going to stop them!”

She Qingling popped a segment of tangerine into his mouth and sighed with satisfaction: “Aiya, sweet!”

Inside Dongming Hall of the Great Liang Palace, the floor was covered in blood, dozens of monk-guards protecting the Emperor of Great Liang as he retreated step by step.

Emperor Wu, Yang Zao, gripped the Kunlun sword, his expression grim as he stared at the monk at the very front, calling out in disbelief: “Sixth son?!”

The shaven-headed monk in robes, Yang Qian, turned and looked at Emperor Wu with a smile: “It’s me.”

My own son has become a monk?

My own son has rebelled?

Emperor Wu’s heart ached unbearably, his voice trembling: “You—why have you become like this? You—your second brother… he, he?”

He simply couldn’t understand it, no matter how he tried. His most trusted Second Prince, taking advantage of the Imperial Guard’s departure to attack the Great Liang Palace?

Had he gone mad?

Yang Qian sneered coldly: “This humble monk is the newly appointed abbot of Huguo Temple, Xuan Qing. Greetings, Emperor of Great Liang.” Seeing Yang Zao’s stunned expression, he added with satisfaction: “Amitabha.”

Emperor Wu took a breath: “You, this is… this is…”

Having waited so many years for this day to finally come, Yang Qian let all his pent-up resentment pour out in mockery: “Can’t you tell? Huguo Temple wanted stability, so they needed an Imperial prince to hold it steady. This humble monk goes by Xuan Shan now, brother—the seniority works out that way! Oh, and that Yang Qian outside, he’s not my second brother—my second brother died long ago. This is just those monks from the south fooling you.”

Everything suddenly made sense. Yang Zao sat down heavily, murmuring as he listened to the sounds of slaughter outside: “You—how did you find out?”

Yang Qian sneered: “The day my mother was killed, I already knew. At the time, my mother hid me beneath a floor panel…”

“A’Duo…” Yang Zao’s heart ached with bitterness, and he looked at his son’s shaved head and asked: “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Tell you?” Yang Qian laughed bitterly. “Who would believe something so bizarre! Even if I’d told you, you’d probably have thought I’d gone mad.”

It was true—if, back then, this son had come forward and said the Second Prince had died long ago, that he alone stood powerless, his mother gone too, and he himself hadn’t been given much regard—who would have believed him?

Meng Dichen’s voice carried in from outside: “Brothers of the Northern Temple! We share one breath, one root—remember how Grand Master Xuan Shan was forced to his death, don’t you understand yet? Emperor Wu is cruel and heartless, and worse, ungrateful in his heart—over the years how many of our brothers in the martial world has he killed, how many loyal souls has he driven to their deaths…”

Yang Qian snatched up a bronze incense burner and hurled it out the door, cursing: “Kill me if you’re going to kill me—stop your babbling…”

Before he’d even finished speaking, a volley of arrows flew in, and Emperor Wu lunged forward, shielding his son with his own body.

A few drops of blood fell onto Yang Qian’s face, and he stared at the blood on his father’s shoulder, murmuring: “Fa—Father?”

Yang Qian looked at him with a smile: “My son, it’s your father who was wrong. I let you suffer fear and hardship all these years. Don’t panic—there’s a hidden passage behind that bookshelf. Take the Northern Temple monks and go, quickly…”

He finished speaking and stood, raising his sword.

Yang Qian, alarmed, scrambled up to shield him instead: “If there’s a hidden passage, then Father should go first.”

But his father said: “Step aside, my son—know that Great Liang has never had an Emperor who retreats before the enemy!”

Just as father and son were each insisting the other take the path to safety, a shrill scream sounded from outside the hall, and before long an aged voice called out: “Who goes there? This old man’s blade does not kill the nameless!”

Chen Dasheng’s bright, carefree voice rang out once more through the Great Liang Palace:

“Brothers!”

“Aye!”

“The old boss is in trouble!”

“No big deal!”

“Today, everyone make your work look good—let’s put some gold on our old employer’s face, make our reputation ring out…”

(THE END)