Zhang Pigeng, wearing a red headband, gripped his steel blade tightly and burst out of the sorghum field. Before him lay a small threshing ground; in the vast thousand-mile expanse of cropland across the Shandong plains, without that thin thread of a clue, finding this place would have been like fishing for a needle in the ocean.

The man who suddenly stood up across from him towered a full head taller than Zhang Pigeng, his eyes bloodshot, glaring at him with vicious intensity.

Three-eyed peacock feathers!

Zhang Pigeng immediately spotted the plumed cap that symbolized nobility. On this battlefield turned into a hellish slaughterhouse, where hundreds of thousands fought and killed in bloody melee until flesh became unrecognizable, this three-eyed peacock feather still stood out so prominently. Among the Qing court’s commanding generals, only one person possessed three-eyed peacock feathers—Prince Sengge Rinchen, commander of the Manchu-Mongol cavalry.

“Monk demon!” Zhang Pigeng ground his teeth and shouted. After this cry, the chaotic footsteps behind him clearly quickened, all rushing toward this direction. Zhang Pigeng didn’t hesitate for a moment—every Nian rebel bore irreconcilable hatred toward Sengge Rinchen. If he acted slowly, this heaven-sent opportunity would fall into other brothers’ hands.

“I don’t want the credit, I only want to cut off the monk demon’s head. Even if the Liang King came himself, he couldn’t compete with me for this!” Two brothers and an uncle had all died at the hands of Sengge Rinchen’s Heilongjiang cavalry. This hatred made Zhang Pigeng’s eyes instantly turn red. Clenching his teeth, he charged toward his opponent, steel blade raised high.

Kill! This single thought flashed lightning-quick through both men’s minds as they faced each other.

Half an hour earlier, Sengge Rinchen’s fiercest general Tiehachi had fallen to an ambush arrow, and his personal guard was decimated. He knew then that death was inevitable this time. The Nian rebels had struck back with a thousand-li counterattack, surrounding him at Gaolou Stockade for three days and nights. While desperately awaiting rescue, Shandong Provincial Governor Yan Jingming arrived with troops to save him. He seized the opportunity to sally forth with all his forces, planning coordinated attacks from within and without, but unexpectedly discovered the rescue army was actually disguised Nian rebels! With his main camp lost, the entire army lost its bearings for advance or retreat. Tens of thousands of troops were divided and surrounded, slaughtered piecemeal like cattle. In one night, the iron cavalry he had trained for ten years was completely annihilated. If not for Tiehachi leading the personal guard in desperate fighting, he would have died several times over already.

Now… Sengge Rinchen glanced at the woman standing beside him, feeling only bitterness in his mouth. This beautiful, delicate woman was completely obedient in bed, allowing the Prince who had campaigned half his life to enjoy every pleasure in her gentle embrace. For the first time in his life, he had wished to finish this battle and return to his Mongol princely mansion to spend his remaining years with this woman.

This thought made the Prince’s desire to live even stronger.

There was still a chance!

He looked ahead. He wasn’t watching the charging Zhang Pigeng, but looking over his head, staring intently at the young general who had just emerged from the green tent curtain, surrounded by followers. The Prince recognized him at once—that was Liang King Zhang Zongyu. The Prince had seen this rebel’s portrait countless times, that unruly appearance, that calm and composed expression—it had to be him!

If he could catch this Nian leader off guard, the others surely wouldn’t dare approach, and then escape would be possible. As for Zhang Pigeng… the Prince gripped the precious blade at his waist—the Divine Sparrow Blade personally bestowed by the late emperor, sharp enough to cut through iron like mud. With just a light parry, this Nian bandit’s blade would break in two.

In that split second, the Prince had already planned the steps: after killing Zhang Pigeng, he would throw the corpse to create chaos, then use his precious blade to capture Zhang Zongyu alive. This battle-hardened veteran gripped his sword hilt in reverse, aimed at Zhang Pigeng’s incoming steel blade, and prepared to draw and counterattack.

Drawing the blade required force, but at that moment, Sengge Rinchen felt a sudden sharp pain in his waist and abdomen, drilling to his very bones. This unexpected agony drained all his strength at once. Though his hand had already gripped the sword hilt tightly, he seemed frozen by some immobilization spell, unable to move an inch.

From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed the woman beside him who had given him countless pleasures. Her eyes now held not a trace of tenderness or charm, replaced instead by heart-chilling hatred—bone-deep, vicious hatred!

In an instant, Sengge Rinchen understood everything. He knew he was finished, that all past glory would turn to nothing, that only death and darkness awaited him. “Who would have thought that after a lifetime of warfare, I would die at a woman’s hands!” This was all the Prince could think. Zhang Pigeng’s blade had arrived—though not a precious weapon, it had been sharpened countless times before today’s battle and gleamed with intimidating cold light.

The blade rose and fell, the head hit the ground!

Bai Yimei stared at the head rolling on the ground, her face seemingly expressionless, yet appearing both sad and joyful. The head rolled more than a zhang away before being stepped on by a tall, slender man.

“Killed the monk demon! I cut off his head!” Zhang Pigeng’s jubilant cry rang out as the Nian rebels around Liang King all rushed over with loud cheers and laughter, lifting Zhang Pigeng high.

Liang King didn’t laugh. He gazed at the bloody, mangled head beneath his foot for a long time, then looked up at Bai Yimei, his expression remarkably similar to hers.

Bai Yimei looked up at the sky as if seeing far through the dark clouds, murmuring to herself: “Your Majesty the Ying King, General Huang, if your spirits in heaven can see this, I have avenged you.” She closed her eyes as two large teardrops slid down her cheeks.

“This woman is the monk demon’s whore—kill her!” Several Nian soldiers who had missed cutting down Sengge Rinchen by just a step, seeing the great achievement fall to Zhang Pigeng, had eyes red as cinnabar with rage and rushed toward Bai Yimei.

Before they could get close, these men simultaneously came to abrupt stops, eyes wide, steel blades nearly dropping from their hands.

Within their sight, they saw Liang King Zhang Zongyu drop to one knee, actually bowing respectfully to that woman.

The wildly celebrating crowd all froze, each like someone under an immobilization spell, stiffly turning their heads to stare slack-jawed at their leader. In everyone’s memory, Liang King Zhang Zongyu had never knelt to anyone.

Bai Yimei was also stunned. Zhang Zongyu looked at her and said quietly: “The monk demon was the Nian rebels’ great enemy. So many brothers died at his hands. Without the Ying King’s consort, we could never have avenged this.”

Bai Yimei’s face was pale: “I avenged His Majesty the Ying King, for my husband, otherwise…”

“I know!” Liang King Zhang Zongyu interrupted before she could finish. “This bow isn’t entirely for my Nian brothers.” His voice grew even lower, so only he and Bai Yimei could hear: “Your Highness endured humiliation and bore heavy burdens, comparable to Xi Shi destroying Wu. Zongyu admires this greatly…”

“Liang King, please, please rise. Speaking this way is most inconvenient.” Bai Yimei’s face was almost bloodless as she spoke with difficulty.

Liang King rose as requested, glanced behind him, and first commanded: “Pass my general’s order—immediately have the monk demon’s head and three-eyed peacock feathers carried on flying horses with poles to display across the battlefield.” He turned back to Bai Yimei: “With the battle currently deadlocked, this will surely devastate the Qing demons’ morale and make them collapse without fighting!”

“That may not be certain. As they say, desperate soldiers fight best. Right now Prince Seng’s beloved general Chen Guorui is leading cavalry like a madman searching for his master, and has already killed Fu King Chen Decai.” A leisurely, calm voice came from behind.

Bai Yimei’s body trembled, and Liang King also frowned sharply. Chen Decai was Chen Yucheng’s own uncle and the Nian army’s strategic mastermind. Who would have thought that uncle and nephew would both die on the battlefield within a year.

The approaching figure wore white robes, walking with unhurried steps and a coldly amused expression on his face. In this hellish battlefield where everyone looked like bloody gourds, he seemed like Guanyin Bodhisattva descending to earth, accompanied by a clever, mischievous book boy.

“Why did you come?” Bai Yimei didn’t need to look—she recognized Su Zixuan’s voice.

She and Su Zixuan had met outside Shou Prefecture. Su Zixuan had persuaded her to offer herself as a pillow companion, to become Prince Seng’s concubine and then wait for an opportunity for revenge. Bai Yimei felt that Chen Yucheng had died because he believed Gu Pingyuan’s words, and she had pleaded for Gu several times. In the end, such was the result—her husband’s life was indirectly lost by her own hands. Gritting her teeth, she had agreed.

Su Zixuan made arrangements, presenting Bai Yimei as a Huizhou civilian woman who had been forcibly seized by Chen Yucheng. Because Prince Seng had killed Chen Yucheng, she had escaped from the bandit lair. Having already lost her virtue to bandits and unable to return home in shame, she wished to offer herself in gratitude for the Prince’s great kindness.

Sengge Rinchen was naturally coarse in temperament. Though not particularly dissolute, as a grassland hero he naturally couldn’t do without women. Seeing Bai Yimei’s delicate beauty and pitiful appearance, and knowing she was his greatest enemy’s wife, taking her into his tent would both humiliate the Long-hairs and allow him to boast to the Mongol princes. Moreover, after a day of military campaigns, holding such a beauty would sufficiently comfort his toils.

Thus Bai Yimei became Sengge Rinchen’s concubine. She had come for revenge, serving seductively in bed, and quickly made the Prince utterly infatuated. Originally he had planned to send her back to his Mongol mansion after a while, but day after day passed until he couldn’t go a single day without this woman.

Outside, Su Zixuan provided strategic counsel to Prince Seng; inside, Bai Yimei spied on military intelligence. The two coordinated from within and without, also establishing contact with the Nian army’s Zhang Zongyu. After several rounds of planning, they devised the “thousand-li counterattack” strategy, stretching Sengge Rinchen’s forces across the Shandong plains in a straight line, luring his vanguard into Heze’s Gaolou Stockade where they were completely surrounded. Originally Gaolou Stockade had defensive advantages and could hold for over ten days. When the main force arrived, plus Shandong Provincial Governor Yan Jingming rushing through the night with a hundred thousand garrison troops, the Nian rebels would have to retreat whether they wanted to or not.

But Sengge Rinchen was someone who refused to admit defeat. Feeling he had lost face by being surrounded by Nian rebels, and finding it even harder to accept being rescued by Han Chinese, Bai Yimei took advantage of his drunken state to repeatedly provoke him with words, finally causing the Prince’s anger to explode uncontrollably. Combined with Nian rebels disguised as Qing reinforcements giving him false confidence, despite his subordinates’ desperate pleas, he led his troops out of Gaolou Stockade.

Zhang Zongyu had maintained close contact with Su Zixuan and was well-prepared for this. Avoiding the Prince’s cavalry charge, he commanded the Nian army to attack from the flanks, quickly cutting the Prince’s cavalry into several sections and scattering each piece. The Prince fled with his personal guard into a hundred-li sorghum field, originally impossible to pursue, but Bai Yimei had secretly left markers along the route. The Nian rebels pursued relentlessly, finally achieving victory with one strike. Here in Shandong Province, closest to the capital Zhili, they had severed the head of Prince Sengge Rinchen, hailed as one of the court’s two great pillars.

“A thousand-li dragon arrives and coils here. This can be considered complete merit and virtue.” Su Zixuan looked at the head impaled on the high pole, also moved to some emotion, then smiled faintly at Bai Yimei: “What are your plans from now on?”

“I want to go to Jiangning.”

“Jiangning?” Liang King was shocked. Jiangning was Ming Taizu’s Nanjing, also the capital of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom, which Hong Xiuquan had renamed “Tianjing.” Over half a year ago, Nanjing had already fallen under the remote control of the Qing court’s Grand Tutor and Governor-General of Liangjiang Zeng Guofan, with his ninth brother Zeng Guoquan personally commanding the siege. After three years of siege it was breached, with reports that the Young Heavenly King had fled the capital while Loyal King Li Xiucheng was captured while covering the Young Master’s escape. Jiangning, once the Heavenly Kingdom’s paradise, had now become a stronghold swarming with Qing demons.

Su Zixuan also heard this answer, but the surprise on his face flashed and disappeared. Glancing at Bai Yimei, he answered for her: “Liang King, surely you’ve heard of ‘darkness under the lamp’?”

“Too dangerous,” Liang King pondered.

“I’m not going to Jiangning to take risks and avoid difficulties, but for another purpose.”

Even Su Zixuan didn’t understand this, requiring Bai Yimei to explain personally: “The Ying King’s old brothers, tens of thousands who originally fought alongside him through life and death, were all captured by the Qing army. I hear they’re imprisoned at the Lianghuai salt works doing hard labor, tortured daily until life is worse than death. If His Majesty the Ying King has knowledge after death, he surely cannot rest in peace. My greatest wish now is to rescue these people, so my husband can close his eyes peacefully in the netherworld.”

Liang King never expected that such a delicate woman, having just helped the Nian rebels kill Prince Seng, could immediately speak such bold words. Regardless of whether the deed could be accomplished, having such resolve was already precious. He was deeply moved, but then quickly calmed down: “Jiangnan is now a dragon’s pool and tiger’s den. To rescue tens of thousands under the Qing army’s strict guard—this isn’t just difficult, it’s impossibly difficult.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Su Zixuan beside them suddenly began to clap softly: “What great courage! I love people like you. What’s to fear from dragon pools and tiger dens? Having already slain one dragon, we can go subdue tigers next.” Smiling again, he continued: “Might as well send Buddha all the way to the west—I’ll simply accompany you.” Her next step was originally to go to Jiangnan and stir up great trouble anyway. Bai Yimei’s identity as “Ying King’s consort” might be extremely useful to her.

Seeing Liang King still wanted to dissuade them, Su Zixuan said slowly: “If we could truly rescue these Taiping Army veterans, being so close to Jiangning, we might be able to launch a surprise attack. If we could kill Zeng Guofan in the chaos, it would be like toppling both pillars supporting the Qing court together. Then would we still worry about the Nian rebels’ day not dawning?”

Su Zixuan spoke few words, but each struck to the heart. Liang King nodded slightly. With Su Zixuan’s unparalleled intelligence and strategy, and Bai Yimei’s tenacious determination, these two going to Jiangnan for secret planning might truly make the smug Zeng brothers suffer a great loss. Thinking this, he beckoned someone over: “Ying King’s consort, this is my Nian army’s commander of boy soldiers. You saw just now—he was the one who beheaded the monk demon with one stroke, naturally irreconcilable with the Qing court. Take him with you to Jiangnan. He’s from the Liangjiang region and very familiar with those parts.”

“Liang King, you don’t want me anymore?” Zhang Pigeng had just achieved great merit, and hearing this was immediately shocked.

“Silly brother, how could I not want you? It’s just…” Liang King patted his shoulder. “You killed the monk demon—the Qing demons won’t let you go.”

“I’m not afraid. The Nian rebels gave me this life. At worst I’ll fight the Qing demons blade to blade.”

“Open spears are easy to dodge, hidden arrows hard to guard against. The Qing demons will surely offer huge rewards. Then not only will you be in danger, but everyone around you will be too. Rather than guarding day and night like this, better you leave first. After some time when this matter calms down, it won’t be too late to return.” As leader of tens of thousands of Nian rebels, Liang King understood in his heart that naturally there were those among the Nian rebels who wouldn’t be moved by tens of thousands of taels of gold, but they weren’t all such people. This could only be understood, not spoken, or it would shake morale.

“Then…” Zhang Pigeng’s eyes reddened. “Where do I go?”

“Follow Ying King’s consort to Jiangning. As Master Su said, Jiangning is now ‘dark under the lamp’—who would think the Nian rebel who killed Sengge Rinchen would run under Demon Zeng’s nose?” Liang King continued: “Zhang Pigeng, I’m assigning you to Ying King’s consort to protect her. We Nian rebels owe her this great debt, and it all depends on you to repay it.”

Zhang Pigeng nodded: “I understand! Liang King, rest assured—no matter where I go, I’ll never shame the Nian rebels.”

“Good!” Liang King praised, then turned back to invite Bai Yimei aside to a place where no one else was present.

“You’re going to Jiangnan. I’m having this Zhang Pigeng serve as your guard. This lad is clever and bold—he should be able to help you.”

“Thank you, Liang King.” Bai Yimei also knew how difficult this journey would be. With Zhang Pigeng, the chances of success increased somewhat, so she didn’t decline.

“I have one more request.” Liang King took out a letter from his breast. “Not far from Jiangning is Zhenjiang. If you have time, please make a trip there and help me return this letter to someone.”

“Who?”

“Cao Gang leader Jiang Tai.” Liang King seemed overcome with emotion. “When the Heavenly Kingdom first rose, I was recruiting Nian rebels in Jiangnan and had a chance meeting with Jiang Tai. A few years ago, when the Taiping Army and Nian Army were at their strongest, Jiang Tai sent a letter saying he wanted to surrender his entire gang to the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom. Several gang leaders all wanted to be enfeoffed as kings and hoped I could help facilitate this matter. I was leading troops in the northwest at the time, too busy to attend to this, so the letter remained with me.”

“Later the situation developed favorably for the Qing army, and Jiang Tai never mentioned this matter again. When Tianjing fell, he sent word through intermediaries, wanting me to return this letter to him.”

“From this account, this person shifts with the wind—a opportunistic scoundrel.” Bai Yimei frowned.

Liang King waved his hand: “Jiang Tai is still quite loyal, but in chaotic times, leading a large gang of brothers, for fame, profit, and self-preservation—this isn’t unreasonable. I don’t blame him.” He handed the letter to Bai Yimei. “Return this major worry to him and he’ll naturally be grateful. When you need help with anything, go find him—it’ll be easy to ask.”

Bai Yimei had heard people say that in the Jiangnan region, officially it was the government, but unofficially it was the Cao Gang. Their capabilities sometimes made even the government lag behind. Though just a light letter, the favor within was worth more than thousands of troops.

“Nian rebels are like star grass—wildfire cannot burn them out, spring wind blows them green again. There will be opportunities to meet again!” Liang King summoned a supply wagon to take them to the main road, waving farewell.

Su Zixuan had remained silent throughout, but kept gazing at the distracted Bai Yimei. After walking far, she suddenly spoke: “Three months ago, you falsely claimed Miao Peilin wanted to violate you, enraging Prince Seng to kill him—that was your first revenge. Today Prince Seng also died—that’s the second. But I remember you originally said you wanted to kill three enemies. You’re returning to Jiangnan—are you really going to save people, or to kill someone?”

Bai Yimei abruptly looked up at her. The two stared at each other for a long time before Bai Yimei looked away: “I’ve also heard you say you wanted to send one person to hell and another to heaven. Today the one who should go to hell has gone. As they say, ‘Above is heaven, below are Suzhou and Hangzhou.’ Going to Jiangnan—who are you looking for?”

Su Zixuan hadn’t expected Bai Yimei to ask this. After a long pause, she smiled slightly and bitterly: “It seems some things are better left unsaid too clearly.” Their exchanges were like verbal sparring, leaving Sixi and Zhang Pigeng sitting nearby looking at each other in complete bewilderment, unable to grasp anything.

“Instead of returning to a perfectly good home, spending days eating vegetarian food and chanting Buddhist prayers in this Golden Mountain Temple—what’s the point!” Among the three Gu siblings, little sister Gu Yuting had the most impatient temperament. Though she dared not speak loudly in this Buddhist forbidden ground, her facial expression was anxious and her voice unconsciously rose.

“You, you, oh my! Keep your voice down.” Gu Pingwen almost blocked her mouth, so anxious he made throat-slitting gestures at her.

The Gu siblings were now standing outside the Guanyin Pavilion of Zhenjiang’s Golden Mountain Temple. Gu Pingyuan was inside with their mother paying respects to Buddha, while second brother Gu Pingwen and little sister Gu Yuting waited in the courtyard. Not far away at the courtyard gate, they could see a woman in simple hairpin and cloth dress kneeling on the stone steps, humbly and earnestly praying.

Gu Pingwen was gesturing toward that direction. Gu Yuting glanced over and sighed silently: “Sigh, our family was doing perfectly well. I really can’t understand why Mother insisted that eldest brother divorce sister-in-law.”

“Who are you asking?” Gu Pingwen was furious. “When Mother asked you one question back then, she immediately turned against sister-in-law. What exactly did she ask? Why won’t you tell us?”

“Second brother, try asking me one more time!” Gu Yuting was truly agitated, her almond eyes wide as saucers. “I’ve said this so many times—if I tell you that question, Mother will throw me out of the house. Do I dare say?”

“Besides, even telling you wouldn’t help.” This matter had been Gu Yuting’s greatest grievance this past year. “I’ve kept it in my heart, turning it over and over for a whole year, and still can’t figure it out. What Mother asked about was simply… nothing significant! Why would it warrant divorcing sister-in-law?”

Gu Pingwen looked at her with a worried frown: “You saying this is worse than not saying anything—I’m even more confused now.”

Just as Gu Yuting was about to respond, she saw Mother Gu emerging from the Guanyin Pavilion and quickly went to meet her.

“Mother, let me support you.”

Gu Pingyuan stepped aside slightly, letting his little sister support their mother. He glanced toward the courtyard gate and indeed saw Chang Yu’er kneeling there. His face darkened as he looked at his mother, then at his wife, his brow unconsciously knitting together.

A year ago, Mother Gu had received a congratulatory letter on her birthday. After reading it, she collapsed in shock. Upon awakening, she absolutely insisted that Gu Pingyuan divorce his eldest daughter-in-law. No amount of persuasion worked—Mother Gu bit down hard and insisted on divorcing her. Chang Yu’er, suddenly faced with this calamity, was mentally distraught, kneeling there crying like a person made of tears. She said if she had violated the “seven grounds for divorce” or done anything wrong, she begged Mother Gu to speak plainly. If it were truly the case, she would willingly leave the Gu family. Reasonably speaking, these words made sense, but the usually wise and reasonable Mother Gu stubbornly refused to be “reasonable.” She gave no reasons, no explanations, and wouldn’t even speak to Chang Yu’er directly. In short, she told Gu Pingyuan: I don’t want this daughter-in-law anymore. If you want to recognize her as your wife, that’s your business—”sons grown up are beyond mother’s control”—I can’t manage it. But she cannot live in the same house as me. You must move out. If you don’t divorce her for one day, then you cannot enter the Gu family door for one day. If Gu Pingyuan insisted on not listening, then Mother Gu planned to move out of the family home herself.

This was forcing Gu Pingyuan to choose between his mother and his wife. Not just the Gu family, but all their close friends including Elder Min and Secretary Hao were mystified by this. The mother-in-law and daughter-in-law had previously gotten along very well, truly like mother and daughter. Chang Yu’er was gentle and filial, skilled at managing the household. Mother Gu had said more than once that “having such an excellent daughter-in-law is the Gu family’s fortune.” Even on the birthday celebration night, she had publicly hoped Chang Yu’er could soon give the Gu family a son or daughter. Who would have thought that overnight everything would change dramatically, leaving everyone feeling lost in clouds and fog.

Secretary Hao, well-versed in legal matters, had helped Gu Pingyuan carefully analyze this affair, believing the key to solving this mystery lay in the letter Mother Gu held. But the old woman guarded that letter like her life, keeping it close to her body at all times, not letting anyone see it. As a fallback, Secretary Hao had Gu Pingyuan call his sister over, coaxing and pleading, making many promises, because Mother Gu had only asked Gu Yuting one question before exploding. If they could know what was asked, they might guess why Chang Yu’er had fallen from favor with her mother-in-law.

Unexpectedly, Gu Yuting, who usually listened to her eldest brother, proved impervious to oil and salt this time. No matter how many kind words Gu Pingyuan spoke, even when he pounded the table and glared in anger, Gu Yuting’s mouth seemed sewn shut—not one word would she reveal. When pressed hard, she simply dragged Gu Pingyuan outside Mother Gu’s room and pointed inside: “Mother’s right in there. Whatever you want to ask, go in and ask. I swore before Mother and absolutely won’t say a word.” This left Gu Pingyuan with no recourse.

With both paths blocked, only one road remained for Gu Pingyuan—divorce Chang Yu’er.

You could beat Gu Pingyuan to death and he still couldn’t do this. What was his relationship with the Chang family? Setting aside how Fourth Father Chang had risked everything to rescue him from beyond the pass; setting aside how Chang Yu’er had stormed the execution ground, declaring before Sengge Rinchen and all the Manchu officials of Xi’an that she would die alongside him; just the fact that Fourth Father Chang had blocked a blade for him and, before dying, entrusted his daughter to him with a smile—for this alone, Gu Pingyuan would rather suffer a thousand cuts than let Chang Yu’er suffer any grievance.

Gu Pingyuan was a filial son. Though he couldn’t obey his mother’s command, he also couldn’t turn a deaf ear to her words. He discussed with Chang Yu’er moving out of the Gu family first, waiting for Mother Gu’s anger to subside before gradually working toward reconciliation. Chang Yu’er was very reasonable—though full of grievance, she said nothing and that very night packed a few personal belongings and moved out. Gu Pingyuan had originally wanted her to stay at the general store in town, but Chang Yu’er absolutely refused. She said that no matter what, as long as there was no divorce document, she remained the Gu family’s eldest daughter-in-law. With her mother-in-law aged, if she couldn’t manage the household, that would be unfilial. So moving out of the Gu family was acceptable, but she couldn’t go far. Gu Pingyuan deeply understood his wife’s character—outwardly gentle but inwardly firm. Once she decided something, it was extremely difficult to change. So he arranged for Chang Yu’er to temporarily stay with Seventh Aunt in the village.

Additionally, Gu Pingyuan had to quickly appease Liu Heita. Liu Heita had a fiery temper, and seeing his sister suffer humiliation for no reason, he was nearly exploding with rage. But since the other party was his sister’s mother-in-law, and “a married daughter is like spilled water,” as long as no lives were lost, the natal family shouldn’t interfere—they could only watch helplessly. This suffocated Liu Heita until his eyes nearly burst. Often he couldn’t sleep at midnight and would go up the mountain to swing his chain whip around violently, nearly breaking half the pine trees on the mountainside.

Gu Pingyuan coaxed and reasoned with him, first saying he would never divorce Chang Yu’er under any circumstances. Then he said his mother was old and might be confused about something, misunderstanding her daughter-in-law. Children couldn’t pressure their elders too harshly—they could only gradually persuade her. He believed this matter would calm down soon.

Elder Min also helped persuade him, and they finally managed to restrain Liu Heita, but then trouble arose on Chang Yu’er’s side. She was a woman who wouldn’t speak her mind but had her own ideas. Every morning she came punctually to the Gu family, fulfilling her duties as the eldest daughter-in-law as usual—lighting fires, cooking, mending clothes, caring for her younger siblings-in-law—everything exactly as before, as if nothing had happened.

At first, Mother Gu was furious, raising her walking stick to chase Chang Yu’er away from the Gu home. Chang Yu’er neither argued nor disputed. When Mother Gu got angry, she would leave, but by the next mealtime she would invariably return to manage household affairs. This continued for over ten days. Mother Gu herself became somewhat discouraged first, simply closing her door and instructing Gu Yuting to prepare separate meals, eating and drinking everything in her own room, rarely coming out—out of sight, out of mind.

Gu Pingyuan had thought his mother would change her mind after a month or so and at least explain the reason, but unexpectedly Mother Gu was determined to drive away Chang Yu’er. She showed no favor whatsoever, treating her as invisible when she saw her, as if there was no such person as Chang Yu’er in the family. On Chang Yu’er’s side, she spoke little but never slackened in her filial duties, stubbornly applying the technique of wearing down stone with water. When Mother Gu wouldn’t eat her cooking, she would teach Gu Yuting how to cook by the stove, never being careless or negligent. Over time, the villagers all sympathized with Chang Yu’er, saying they had never seen such a filial daughter-in-law—not only accepting adversity submissively, but showing such sincere filial piety that was truly rare.

Later, Old Master Hu also heard about this and summoned Gu Pingyuan to ask about it, also frowning deeply: “Nephew, this family trouble of yours is peculiar—wanting to divorce your wife in confusion, and a virtuous wife at that. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Gu Pingyuan spread his hands: “Old Master, you’ve hit the nail on the head. Business matters are easy to handle—they’re just disputes over interests. But this family affair… to be honest, everyone at home now walks on tiptoe, and when we meet we have nothing to say. This situation really gives me headaches.”

Old Master Hu chuckled: “With your mother on one side and your wife on the other, you’re caught in the middle—naturally like Zhu Bajie looking in a mirror, not human inside or out.”

“Please don’t tease me. By rights I should listen to Mother, but…”

“But your daughter-in-law is truly wronged.” Old Master Hu interrupted him. “Children cannot directly criticize their parents’ wrongs, so I’ll speak for you. You’re probably also resentful that your mother is being unreasonable.”

Gu Pingyuan’s face reddened as he hung his head without speaking.

“As the saying goes, ‘even wise officials have difficulty judging family affairs,’ but from what I see, your daughter-in-law is truly remarkable. Do you remember what Hanshan once asked Shide?”

Gu Pingyuan was startled and unconsciously recited: “When the world slanders me, deceives me, humiliates me, laughs at me, looks down on me, despises me, hates me, cheats me, how should I deal with it? Simply endure them, yield to them, let them be, avoid them, be patient with them, respect them, don’t mind them—wait a few more years and see what becomes of them.”

“Exactly.” Old Master Hu nodded. “Your daughter-in-law has a plan in her heart, preserving room for future reconciliation with your mother. You should quickly persuade the old lady to calm down and give her a way to step down gracefully. As for why she got angry originally, if she really doesn’t want to say, let it go. Family harmony is what’s real—not everything needs to be crystal clear. Haven’t you heard ‘not deaf, not mute, unfit to be family patriarch’?”

Gu Pingyuan returned to Gu Family Village and, following Old Master Hu’s advice, planned to mediate the relationship between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. But Mother Gu kept her door tightly sealed, and he could never find a suitable opportunity, so things dragged on day by day.

During this period, the only thing that could comfort Gu Pingyuan was the tea business. Ever since Lanxue tea signed contracts with foreign merchants, the market opened wide and prices rose accordingly. The Gu family contracted the entire tea mountain where their tea garden was located, specializing in Lanxue tea. Merchants from all regions flocked there, competing to stuff silver into Gu Pingyuan’s hands, but Gu Pingyuan wouldn’t accept a single tael, directly pointing them toward Tailai Tea House, telling them that Lanxue tea had signed contracts with the Hu family—no matter how many catties were produced, everything would be distributed exclusively by the Hu family.

This alone was enough to make Second Master Hou prostrate himself in admiration. Had Gu Pingyuan broken away from the Hu family at this time to do the Lanxue tea business himself, no one could say he was wrong. After all, the Hu family had exclusive distribution rights for Lanxue tea but hadn’t sold a single tael. It was Gu Pingyuan who, with his own abilities, broke through the blockade of tea merchants from various regions, drove the capital merchants out of Huizhou, and brought the Lanxue tea business back to life. But Gu Pingyuan remained unmoved by hundreds of thousands of taels of silver, still willingly letting the Hu family earn thirty percent profit from the Lanxue tea business.

Second Master Hou reflected on his past actions—Gu Pingyuan was truly like a mirror, reflecting his own greed, anger, ignorance, and cruelty in minute detail, making him inevitably ashamed. Looking again at how people now treated Gu Pingyuan when he came to the Huizhou Merchants’ Guild—even the aged old Huizhou merchants all stood to greet him—that honor was what Gu Pingyuan had earned through his own trustworthiness and ability. Though Second Master Hou said nothing, watching everyone surround Gu Pingyuan like stars around the moon, his heart couldn’t help but be moved.

Because of such realizations, he had become much more honest now, conscientiously managing Tailai Tea House, helping Gu Pingyuan sell Lanxue tea, and turning over every bit of the agreed-upon share of silver to the Gu family. The business grew more prosperous but also more demanding. Gu Pingyuan felt the busier the better—more attention to business meant less thinking about family matters. They passed several months in this awkward manner, and by New Year’s Eve, Chang Yu’er could only spend it outside with Liu Heita. Hearing firecrackers exploding throughout the village, drums and gongs resounding, every family reunited with joy and laughter, only the Gu family was cold and cheerless—Gu Pingyuan felt terrible about it. Fortunately, Chang Yu’er remained gentle and virtuous, caring for Gu Pingyuan attentively, and the couple tacitly never mentioned that matter.

During this year, there were also major changes in Anhui’s official circles. Yuan Jiasan had “eliminated” Chen Yucheng and conveniently removed his political enemy Buhe, thinking his great work was accomplished and he could rest easy. Unexpectedly, the court issued a transfer order, reassigning Deputy General Cheng Xueqi and Prefect Qiao Henian to Zhejiang under Zhejiang Governor Li Hongzhang.

Yuan Jiasan was immediately thrown into panic. Not to mention that Shandong Nian rebels could cross the provincial border at any time, there were still many Taiping remnants within Anhui itself. If they united, they would be no small trouble. Now he relied on Qiao Henian for civil matters and Cheng Xueqi for military affairs—he absolutely couldn’t lose either of them at this critical moment. Yuan Jiasan thought it over and over. He couldn’t disobey imperial orders, so he used a strategy of removing fuel from under the cauldron—simply having Qiao and Cheng feign illness, using delaying tactics to drag the matter out. Best if it could be delayed indefinitely, or at least a year or two until the province was cleared of all Taipings.

Yuan Jiasan summoned the two to the governor’s office and explained his calculations, fully expecting they would obey orders. Instead, Qiao Henian and Cheng Xueqi were silent for a long while before saying they had already jointly submitted a memorial of gratitude yesterday, even writing the date for taking up their new posts in the memorial.

Now it was Yuan Jiasan’s turn to be dumbfounded, watching helplessly as his right and left arms bid farewell and became someone else’s subordinates.

There are no walls that don’t leak—soon everyone knew that Qiao Henian had used his connection through Chen Yongqing selling foreign guns to the Zhejiang Huai Army to board Li Hongzhang’s ship. He had also coordinated from within, persuading Cheng Xueqi to join Li Hongzhang together.

This was quite a generous meeting gift from Qiao Henian. Li Hongzhang’s Huai Army was precisely in a situation of having soldiers but no generals—they lacked a commanding general. Cheng Xueqi’s arrival was to Li Hongzhang like Cao Cao gaining Zhang Liao or Liu Bei acquiring Zhao Yun. He was immediately delighted and naturally entrusted Qiao Henian with important duties.

Yuan Jiasan was furious upon learning the truth. Since Anhui was under the jurisdiction of the Governor-General of Liangjiang, he originally planned to report this to Zeng Guofan, but someone advised him that Li Hongzhang was Zeng Guofan’s prized student—going to the teacher to complain about the student would be asking for trouble. Yuan Jiasan had no choice but to swallow this bitter pill in frustration.

Qiao Henian knew Gu Pingyuan was tied up with family troubles and couldn’t get away, so he hadn’t consulted with him beforehand about this matter, only hinting through Secretary Hao. After the deed was done, when Qiao Henian was about to take up his post in Zhejiang, Gu Pingyuan came to see him off, expressing great regret at the banquet about Qiao Henian leaving Anhui.

But Qiao Henian said: “Brother Pingyuan, we’re both scholars and should have heard ‘good birds choose trees to perch in.’ I’ve been in Anhui for over two years now and know this Governor Yuan quite well. Though he appears to be a high provincial official, he’s actually mediocre and incompetent, achieving only through others’ efforts. Maintaining his position is already fortunate—advancing further is absolutely impossible. Following him, the best I could achieve would be prefect level, not even getting a red-topped hat. How could this be a real man’s ambition?”

“Governor Yuan is unreliable, but can Governor Li definitely be trusted?” Gu Pingyuan felt Yuan Jiasan had treated Qiao Henian well, and this move seemed like burning bridges after crossing the river, so he unconsciously pricked him with this comment.

“His Excellency Li Hongzhang is a dragon among men—how can Yuan Jiasan compare?” Qiao Henian replied coolly.

Gu Pingyuan was rendered speechless. Seeing his disapproval, Qiao Henian softened his tone: “Let me tell you something as drinking conversation—you’ll understand Master Li’s character and capabilities after hearing it.”

Ever since Li Hongzhang recruited the Huai Army, he had been campaigning in Jiangsu and Zhejiang. His great achievements were recovering Suzhou and Wuxi—both were the richest lands in the realm. With elite troops and abundant supplies, capturing Changzhou next should have been easy as flipping his hand. But he surrounded Changzhou in three tight layers without attacking for a long time. When the court pressed urgently, the camp would move forward a few dozen zhang, but everyone could see he was deliberately delaying—they just didn’t know why.

Later Li Hongzhang revealed to several trusted advisors that he wasn’t capturing Changzhou because once it fell, the court would immediately order the Huai Army to the Jiangnan Grand Camp to assist Zeng Guoquan, who was besieging Jiangning. Li Hongzhang had dealt with the Zeng brothers for over ten years and knew this “Ninth Master’s” temperament like the back of his hand. Zeng Guoquan was ruthless and arrogant, determined to single-handedly destroy the Taiping stronghold and achieve this unprecedented feat. Anyone wanting to compete for this glory would certainly be seen by Zeng Guoquan as a thorn in his side.

Li Hongzhang understood clearly—once Changzhou fell and imperial orders commanded him to rush to Jiangning’s aid, if he didn’t go, it would be disobeying orders; if he went, he would offend the Zeng brothers, becoming like Zhu Bajie looking in a mirror—not human inside or out. Therefore, Li Hongzhang delayed at Changzhou, clearly able to capture it overnight but insisting on waiting day after day.

“How about Master Li’s thinking?” After finishing, Qiao Henian raised his cup and drank. “For officials, it’s always easier to accomplish tasks than to handle people. The way Governor Li handles things, using both soft and hard approaches, even the usually arrogant Zeng Guoquan has to appreciate his favor. Why worry about not becoming tremendously successful in the future?” After a pause he continued: “Sun Tzu’s Art of War says, ‘Those who seek the highest achieve the middle, those who seek the middle achieve the lowest.’ I’ll change one character: ‘Those who follow the highest achieve the middle, those who follow the middle achieve the lowest.’ Following a superior like Governor Li naturally ensures a bright future. If following Governor Yuan… his own official fortune is mediocre—how can followers soar to the clouds?”

These words left Gu Pingyuan speechless. Logically, Qiao Henian was absolutely right, but Gu Pingyuan was an old acquaintance—in Shanxi, Gu Pingyuan had looked after him; in Huizhou, they had joined hands to accomplish much together. Now that Qiao Henian was going to Zhejiang, Gu Pingyuan suddenly discovered that Qiao Henian had really changed considerably over these years, transforming from an unworldly pedantic scholar into a capable official in the bureaucracy, discussing human nature and worldly affairs with ease, actually three parts more sophisticated than Gu Pingyuan himself.

“Being an official, being human.” Gu Pingyuan couldn’t distinguish the taste in his heart for a moment, only raising his wine: “I wish Master Qiao great success in Zhejiang and early promotion to higher ranks.”

Not long after seeing off Qiao Henian, news came that the Zeng brothers had recovered Jiangning. The Taiping rebellion had lasted ten years, from south to north, leaving people destitute and trade routes severed—what commercial opportunities could there be? So the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom’s destruction was tremendous good news for merchants. Gu Pingyuan wasn’t a merchant who tumbled in money’s eyes—he was well-read in history and knew that during dynastic rises and falls, there were often many exclusive business opportunities. Spotting them correctly meant chances for great wealth.

Just as Gu Pingyuan was planning to send people to explore opportunities in Jiangsu and Zhejiang, Chen Qitai, leader of the Dongting Merchant Guild, came specifically to visit. Because Gu Pingyuan had given half the foreign merchants’ tea business to the Dongting Merchant Guild, Chen Qitai realized he had mistaken Yang Liulang for Pan Renmei. Feeling grateful and ashamed, the two had sworn brotherhood at Old Master Hu’s Tianshou Garden, becoming brothers. This meeting was naturally even warmer—seeing Chen Qitai’s radiant complexion, Gu Pingyuan knew good things had happened.

“Worthy brother, I must really thank you this time.” Chen Qitai’s thanks came from the heart, but left Gu Pingyuan puzzled.

It turned out the Dongting Merchant Guild’s founding place—Dongting East Mountain—had long been occupied by Taipings. Li Xiucheng had launched expeditions from there, taking advantage of the once-in-a-century frozen Taihu Lake to march across ice, break Huzhou, and capture Huzhou regiment commander Zhao Jingxian alive.

“Zhao Jingxian later died at rebel hands. This man was too famous in Jiangsu and Zhejiang, deeply loved by the people. When he died, some blamed our Dongting Merchant Guild, saying we collaborated with bandits, offering East Mountain to the Taipings as their base. This was a tremendous injustice.”

Chen Qitai had always disapproved of the Taipings’ supernatural pretenses, but couldn’t break with them either, fearing that the Dongting Merchant Guild’s foundation—the premium Biluochun tea gardens, especially that ancestral tree—were all on East Mountain. If they angered the Taipings and they set fires, the Dongting Merchant Guild would be ruined forever.

So Chen Qitai had maintained false relations with them until Jiangning was recovered and the Taipings destroyed. He thought he could finally breathe easy, but someone brought up old grievances, wanting to avenge Zhao Jingxian by investigating the Dongting Merchant Guild’s treasonous crime of collaborating with Taipings. Chen Qitai, usually fearless, couldn’t help feeling secretly alarmed. The Taipings stationing at Dongting East Mountain was known to everyone—their leaders had used the Dongting Merchant Guild hall as command headquarters. This was undeniable, and if truly investigated, the disaster would be enormous.

But things soon took another turn. After Qiao Henian reached Zhejiang, he quickly sent people to contact Chen Qitai, saying he had already smoothed things over with Li Hongzhang for the Dongting Merchant Guild. Because the Dongting Merchant Guild had previously sold that large batch of military equipment to the Huai Army, providing great assistance to Li Hongzhang, this could be reported to the court—not only were they innocent, but they had merit in assisting the righteous and suppressing rebels. They might even receive imperial commendation.

However, Qiao Henian’s letter also mentioned that success depends on human effort, and humans require silver to settle. Every advisor, secretary, and clerk under Li Hongzhang needed money for arrangements. If any checkpoint couldn’t be cleared, all previous efforts might be wasted. For this, Chen Qitai brought one hundred thousand taels of silver and rushed to Hangzhou overnight.

“Master Qiao is truly a good official.” Chen Qitai was full of praise, because he had also brought ten thousand taels for Qiao Henian, but Qiao not only refused it, but personally took Chen Qitai to visit various offices, helping him prepare a gift list, arranging everything thoroughly. The hundred thousand taels were spent completely, and naturally everything succeeded.

“I was embarrassed and specially had Gao Kui bring another ten thousand taels to Hangzhou—we couldn’t let Master Qiao work for nothing. But he firmly refused, saying accepting silver wouldn’t be friendship, and besides, for your sake he had to help.”

Gu Pingyuan understood clearly and only smiled: “Master Qiao’s aspirations aren’t there, and speaking of help, you also helped him greatly.”

Gu Pingyuan was crystal clear—the money was paid by the Dongting Merchant Guild, but the favor fell to Qiao Henian. Qiao Henian had truly been reborn, remarkably thinking up this scheme to have the Dongting Merchant Guild willingly spend money paving his way through Zhejiang’s official circles. As a newcomer, he had immediately established connections throughout the province—this was truly mastering the essence of officialdom.

However, tracing to the source, it all depended on the groundwork Gu Pingyuan had laid initially. Only because of this could the Dongting Merchant Guild escape suspicion of “treason”—naturally Chen Qitai was endlessly grateful to him.

“Everyone in the Dongting Merchant Guild appreciates worthy brother’s favor. It’s laughable that I originally saw you as a thorn in my side and deliberately set you up, but you not only bore no grudge, you actually risked offending Governor Yuan to rescue the Dongting Merchant Guild from the cliff’s edge. Everything has causes before effects—without that gun-selling affair, how could we have easily resolved this great crisis today? This is all worthy brother’s kindness to us Dongting merchants.”

“Elder brother, how can family speak of two different households?”

“Ha ha, won’t say more, won’t say more. In any case, with the Taipings finished, our business will be much easier to conduct, no need to compete against each other like before. I’ve already given orders—from now on when the Dongting Merchant Guild encounters Huizhou merchants, we should treat them like our own brothers, only helping never hindering, earning money together, bearing difficulties together.”

Chen Qitai was naturally generous by nature. Gu Pingyuan knew there was no need for ceremony with him, and besides, the Huizhou merchants all knew that allying with the Dongting Merchant Guild had all benefits and no harm—the future would certainly be harmonious.

Watching good friends like Qiao Henian and Chen Qitai all high-spirited and full of ambition, even Second Master Hou glowing daily, Gu Pingyuan felt happy but then thought of his family affairs. He thought how true the ancient saying was: “Family harmony brings success in all things.” His own family troubles gave him such tangled thoughts that he unconsciously used energy meant for business on family matters. How could this continue long-term?

Gu Pingyuan had planned to have a good talk with his mother after the first month, but before he could speak, on Lantern Festival day, Mother Gu summoned all three siblings to her room and announced something.

“In a few days, I’m going to Golden Mountain Temple in Zhenjiang.”

The three looked at each other, none understanding her meaning. Gu Pingyuan reacted first: “Mother must want to burn incense for Grandfather. Second brother and I can go—no need to trouble you, elderly lady. Yuting should stay home to keep you company.”

Gu Pingyuan’s grandfather had originally done grain business in Yangzhou. Encountering a particularly severe “canal trouble,” he lost everything and died of illness in Yangzhou. When Gu Pingyuan’s father Gu Wanzhang rushed to Yangzhou, the old man had only his last breath left. Before dying, he had a wish: having believed in Buddhism all his life, after death he preferred to burn away his stinking flesh, placing his bone urn in Golden Mountain Temple.

Paternal commands were hard to disobey, especially deathbed wishes. Gu Wanzhang wept bitterly but finally complied, placing his father’s ashes in Zhenjiang’s Golden Mountain Temple.

As the family’s eldest son, Gu Pingyuan had followed his parents to Golden Mountain Temple once to worship his grandfather’s spirit tablet while still too young to remember clearly. Later when his father left home for many years with uncertain fate, twelve-year-old Gu Pingyuan had specially made a solitary trip to Zhenjiang, weeping before his grandfather’s spirit, hoping the old man’s soul in heaven could protect his father’s safety.

Now that his mother wanted to go to Golden Mountain Temple, Gu Pingyuan naturally thought she wanted to worship his grandfather, but unexpectedly he guessed wrong.

“Seventh Aunt came visiting the day before yesterday, saying Golden Mountain Temple will soon hold an exceptionally grand Water and Land Dharma Assembly. Though your father has a spirit tablet established, no Buddhist monks have ever been invited to deliver his soul from suffering. I hear this time Two Rivers Governor-General Master Zeng will deliver the souls of millions of innocents who died since the Taiping troubles in Jiangnan, specially inviting dozens of accomplished high monks from famous mountains and ancient temples.”

“Oh…” The three siblings understood before Mother finished speaking—this trip to Golden Mountain Temple wasn’t for Grandfather, but for Father, so the whole family had to go together.

But Mother Gu had more to say, pointing outside: “Don’t let her follow!”

No matter what Gu Pingyuan said, Chang Yu’er still came along. She was determined about one principle: she was the principal daughter-in-law of the main branch. For her father-in-law’s ritual deliverance, her absence would be completely inexcusable.

No one could refute this reasoning, so they could only bring Chang Yu’er, just not arranging for her to travel in the same carriage or boat or stay at the same inns as Mother Gu. Among the Gu family, Gu Pingyuan needn’t be mentioned; Gu Pingwen truly admired his eldest sister-in-law and always spoke for her; Gu Yuting sided more with the old lady, but couldn’t find fault with her sister-in-law either—she just instinctively stood by Mother. From Huizhou to Zhenjiang along the way, the family harbored these various concerns, hardly showing a smile.

The Gu family rented the eastern courtyard of an inn in Zhenjiang. Mother Gu naturally lived in the main hall, the siblings in side rooms, with a driver brought from Huizhou and a local servant woman hired temporarily to help with arrangements. As for Chang Yu’er, because of Mother Gu, she naturally couldn’t stay in the same courtyard, but they also rented her an upper room at this inn.

Gu Pingyuan still harbored hope, hoping that after Mother performed rituals for Father and fulfilled this wish, she might change her mind and, seeing Chang Yu’er’s pure filial piety, take back her words early so the family could live harmoniously again.

But he was wrong. After arriving in Zhenjiang, Mother Gu went daily to Golden Mountain Temple’s Guanyin Pavilion to recite the Heart Sutra one hundred times. Later she gradually revealed her intentions—she didn’t plan to return to Gu Family Village, preparing to formally move her husband Gu Wanzhang’s spirit tablet to Golden Mountain Temple and become a lay Buddhist herself in Zhenjiang, staying close to accompany her husband’s spirit.

Gu Pingyuan was greatly shocked but didn’t dare persuade her, fearing that persuasion might strengthen Mother’s intention to leave home and avoid the world. He gathered his siblings in his room to discuss what to do. Gu Pingwen was honest-hearted, thinking Mother was grief-stricken over Father’s death and might have had this intention long ago. But Gu Pingyuan knew this matter was most likely still related to Chang Yu’er—otherwise the old lady had been happily anticipating grandchildren a year ago, showing no sign of world-weariness. How could she suddenly want to rely on ancient temples to end her remaining life?

“Of course it’s related to sister-in-law.” Gu Yuting felt sorry for Mother but didn’t know at whom to direct her anger, becoming increasingly annoyed. “In my opinion, Mother is just being stubborn. Elder brother, you should tell sister-in-law not to always appear before Mother—isn’t this adding fuel to fire?”

“That’s unconscionable talk. What did sister-in-law do wrong? Is being filial to mother-in-law wrong? Why should she hide like someone shameful?” Gu Pingwen couldn’t help saying.

Gu Yuting had been holding back anger and suddenly stood up, pointing at Gu Pingwen’s nose: “How old is Mother? After all these years of hardship raising us up, how is it that in her twilight years she can’t live comfortably in her own home and has to suffer from outsiders?”

“Who’s an outsider!” Gu Pingwen wasn’t backing down either. “Is sister-in-law an outsider? She properly married into our Gu family. Even if officials judged crimes, there must be a verdict. How can we so inexplicably divorce sister-in-law?”

“I didn’t say elder brother should divorce sister-in-law, just that she shouldn’t always be around Mother to avoid annoying her. If the old lady’s mood were smooth, would she think of leaving home to cultivate?”

“Enough, both of you say less.”

Gu Pingyuan’s low roar made both siblings, who always respected and feared their elder brother, immediately fall silent.

After a long while, Gu Yuting stood up and declared: “In any case, letting Mother suffer grievances won’t do.” Saying this, she quickly walked out.

“Sigh!” The two men in the room simultaneously heaved heavy sighs.

Gu Pingyuan had originally gathered his siblings for consultation, but the more they talked the more chaotic it became. Seeing second brother and little sister arguing red-faced, he also became agitated. Thinking again and again, he suddenly stood up to go outside.

“Elder brother!” Gu Pingwen quickly stopped him. “What are you going to do?”

“We’re all family—what can’t be discussed openly together?”

“That won’t do. Mother is old and can’t handle stimulation. She’s already dissatisfied that you keep refusing to divorce sister-in-law. If you go pressure her now, that, that…” Gu Pingwen was inarticulate, stammering without getting the words out.

“Dragging on like this won’t work either. It’s been almost a year—if this continues, the family can’t hold up much longer.”

“Mother came to Golden Mountain Temple to perform transcendence rituals for Father. After this matter is settled, it will fulfill one of Mother’s wishes. Then she should naturally return home—it won’t be too late to persuade her then using this reason.”

His younger brother’s words made sense, and Gu Pingyuan nodded silently.

“This Master Zeng is also strange—he said he would hold this Water and Land Dharma Assembly before Buddha’s Nirvana Day. It’s almost the proper date now, but there’s no movement at all?”

Having spoken several times with the old monks at the temple, Gu Pingyuan knew the inside story: “This transcendence ceremony isn’t just for innocent civilians who suffered, but also for soldiers from the Xiang Army banners, like Luo Zenan, Tachibu, Zhao Jingxian, even former Anhui Governor Jiang Zhongyuan—all will be publicly commended by the court at this memorial service. This involves a major imperial grace ceremony for nearly a thousand people, allowing no carelessness. It’s enough to keep the Ministry of Rites busy for quite a while.”

“So there’s still time. I remember when we left Huizhou, didn’t Old Master Hu invite you to Xiuning and entrust you with two matters? Since we’re waiting anyway, why not make a trip to Jiangning and handle the old master’s business first?”

Gu Pingyuan gazed at his younger brother, then suddenly smiled: “Pingwen, you’re afraid I’ll make myself sick from thinking too much. Let me tell you, your elder brother isn’t that useless. When the cart reaches the mountain, there will be a path—if there’s no path, we’ll open one ourselves.”

“But it’s Mother on one side and sister-in-law on the other. If it were me, I wouldn’t know what to do.” Gu Pingwen also smiled embarrassedly.

“Chen Qitai originally treated me as an enemy, but now we’ve sworn brotherhood. How much more so for family members who were already related? Your saying ‘delay brings resolution’ makes sense too. I’ll listen to you—go to Jiangning and also take your sister-in-law away. Perhaps after not seeing each other for a while, Mother can think things through herself.”

“Elder brother, rest assured. With Yuting and me here, we’ll definitely take good care of Mother.”

Originally Gu Pingyuan thought convincing Chang Yu’er would require considerable effort, but unexpectedly his wife only considered briefly before nodding: “That would be good. Mother has been unwilling to see me, so I can’t help much anyway. Better let younger brother and sister care for Mother while I go to Jiangning to care for you.” Seeing her husband looking at her, Chang Yu’er smiled: “Regardless of whether Mother likes me or not, I married into the Gu family wholeheartedly for the Gu family’s sake. As they say, ‘constant dripping wears away stone.’ Someday Mother will understand my intentions.”

Gu Pingyuan comfortingly reached out to stroke her hair: “This must be a misunderstanding—there will be a day when it’s resolved. It’s just that you’ve suffered grievances this past year. I’m afraid you might think too narrowly…”

Chang Yu’er’s eyes flashed slightly with tears, but she still smiled: “Don’t worry about me. From Shanxi to Huizhou, we’ve walked this path together and experienced so many things together—what could be insurmountable? Rather, when you go to Jiangning, will the matters be very difficult?”

“Do you know what Old Master Hu wants me to do in Jiangning?”

Chang Yu’er shook her head: “I only know the old master values you highly. What he entrusts to you must be very important—probably something others couldn’t accomplish.”

Indeed, it was something others couldn’t accomplish. That day when Old Master Hu invited Gu Pingyuan to Xiuning, he didn’t meet him at Tianshou Garden, but had family members lead him to Qiyun Mountain thirty li away.

Qiyun Mountain was anciently called “White Peak,” one of Taoism’s four famous mountains, commonly known as “green waters and red cliffs crown the south,” truly the most secluded place. Halfway up the mountain was a Listening to Waves Pavilion, surrounded by pine-covered peaks with a winding stream visible nearby at the mountain’s foot. The old master had set out a feast in the pavilion waiting for Gu Pingyuan.

The dishes were excellent, but there was food without wine. Gu Pingyuan was puzzled when Old Master Hu gestured toward the distance, where two servants were digging at the roots of an ancient pine with pickaxes. Soon they actually unearthed an earthen jar covered with soil rust—it looked like it had been buried underground for years.

“Nephew, this jar of wine has quite some age.” Old Master Hu calculated on his fingers and nodded with a sigh: “That was during Emperor Daoguang’s reign—a full thirty years now.”

When the mud seal was opened, the jar of wine had become amber-colored gel. Pine fragrance mixed with wine aroma, intoxicating to smell. The servants used fine Shaoxing yellow wine to dissolve the wine blocks. Gu Pingyuan first offered a cup to Old Master Hu. As soon as this wine entered his mouth, it was mellow and rich, seeming to spread instantly through all his meridians. Though it went from mouth to throat, it felt as if his entire person had suddenly soaked into the wine jar.

“Truly excellent wine.” Gu Pingyuan unconsciously praised.

“This is a brewing method I learned from locals during northern trading ventures. It’s called Pine Poria Wine—buried under ancient pines, it absorbs the essence of pine sap and poria, greatly benefiting the body.” As he spoke, Old Master Hu held his cup in a daze.

Gu Pingyuan knew the old master wouldn’t bring him to the mountain without reason—there must be something to say, so he waited quietly without speaking. Sure enough, after a while Old Master Hu came to his senses and smiled apologetically: “When people get old, they often think of past events. Just now I was remembering the last time I climbed Qiyun Mountain—that time I shared wine and conversation here with Master Tao Shu and Master Lin Zexu.”

“Governor-General of Liangjiang Master Tao, Governor-General of Liangguang Master Lin…” Gu Pingyuan was stunned. Thirty years ago, these two were famous throughout the court as honest officials and good ministers, outstanding figures among the empire’s governors. How could Old Master Hu have drunk wine with these two in the wilderness?

“Ha ha! Seeing you dumbfounded, you surely don’t think this old man is bragging.” Old Master Hu stroked his beard and smiled.

“This junior wouldn’t dare—it’s just hard to believe.”

“Don’t mention just hearing about it—though I experienced it personally, thinking back now it also feels like a dream.” Old Master Hu was quite moved.

At that time Lin Zexu hadn’t yet become Governor-General of Liangguang but was serving as Jiangsu Governor. He and Liangjiang Governor-General Tao Shu had a superior-subordinate relationship, but they were close friends who understood each other’s concerns for country and people. After several long conversations, the two believed that river works, grain transport, and salt administration were urgent problems the Great Qing needed to solve. If these three matters were handled well, people’s livelihood and the economy would have hope. However, the Grand Canal flowed from south to north through multiple provinces, with court-appointed Eastern River Governor-General and Grain Transport Governor-General specifically managing it—not within Liangjiang’s control. That left only salt administration for them to display their ambitions. Lianghuai salt production was two-thirds of the nation’s total, while salt taxes comprised seventy percent of national revenue. Properly managing salt administration was equivalent to protecting the Great Qing’s financial lifeline.

Tao Shu excelled at planning while Lin Zexu was swift and decisive. Once these two took action, they changed the centuries-old gang salt system to a ticket salt system, immediately turning the Lianghuai salt fields upside down. The entire Jiangnan commercial world experienced something like a great earthquake—some cursed heaven and earth, some wailed desperately, others gloated, and still others were tremendously excited. Old Master Hu belonged to the tremendously excited group. Then in middle age and full of ambitious aspirations, learning that because of Tao and Lin’s reforms the Yangzhou salt merchants who had dominated Lianghuai had fallen, and the nearly hundred salt fields they had long controlled might change hands for operation. This was a once-in-a-millennium opportunity, so Old Master Hu proactively sent people to Liangjiang to gather information.

A month later, the people he’d sent returned, but what Old Master Hu never expected was that Tao Shu and Lin Zexu, these two high officials with red-topped hats, had actually come with them.

Old Master Hu was naturally overwhelmed with honor. “At that time my waist and legs were still strong, and I loved climbing high to look far. I often came to Qiyun Mountain and knew of this fine grove, so I set up a banquet here specially for the two masters.”

Only through deep conversation during the feast did he learn that Tao and Lin had left aside myriad governmental affairs to visit from afar because they had great expectations for the Hu family and even Huizhou merchants, renowned for their integrity.

“Master Tao said that those who accomplish great things should promote benefits and eliminate corruption. Eliminating corruption is an official’s duty—duty-bound and unshirkable. But officials cannot compete with the people for profit. Promoting benefits must be entrusted to merchants to achieve political clarity and popular harmony.”

Old Master Hu clicked his tongue repeatedly: “Hearing this one sentence, I knew the people of Liangjiang were truly blessed, encountering such good officials who dared to take responsibility and understood principles. Master Tao made an agreement with me—he would definitely sweep away all corruption in the Lianghuai salt fields within three to five years, then planned to have me serve as chief salt merchant. Using Lianghuai as a base, gradually extending the ticket salt system nationwide, so people could eat good salt at fair prices, merchants could earn deserved profits, and without salt merchants’ monopoly and illegal salt dealers’ smuggling, the state could collect more salt taxes, naturally enriching the treasury. This would achieve three benefits at once. Looking further ahead, salt law reform could persuade the court to change the corrupt practices of river works and grain transport. Then our Great Qing could restore the prosperity of the Kangxi-Qianlong era.”

“Then why didn’t it succeed in the end?” As a fellow merchant, Gu Pingyuan listened with stirring blood and asked urgently.

“Heaven’s will is hard to fathom. Master Tao’s actions offended too many people. Those corrupt officials, clerks, and salt merchant bosses all hated Master Tao to the bone, obstructing him everywhere and constantly making false accusations to the court, saying his salt law reforms were entirely for personal profit. Master Tao was wholehearted for the public good but didn’t guard against villains’ secret arrows. Combined with accumulated overwork causing illness, he died at his Liangjiang Governor-General post within a few years. After Master Tao’s death, Master Lin was still there and things could still be accomplished, but unexpectedly the British attacked our Great Qing to sell opium. Master Lin was a war hawk, and after defeat, those same villains used silver to bribe people into speaking slander. So he received severe punishment and was exiled to Xinjiang, dying of depression soon after being pardoned and recalled. Later Liangjiang Governor-General successors were all mediocre people who sought only trouble-free peace of mind, completely ignoring national taxes and people’s suffering. So the Lianghuai salt fields were left half-dead like this for over twenty years.”

Only now did Gu Pingyuan understand why the once-mighty Yangzhou salt merchants had all collapsed in such a short time, while the government allowed salt fields to lie waste rather than permit people to operate them. Thinking how something that could have greatly benefited country and people came to nothing because of villains’ interference, he couldn’t help sighing heavily too.

Old Master Hu patted the wine jar beside him and smiled bitterly: “Originally, when conversing joyfully with Masters Tao and Lin, I had someone bury this remaining half jar of wine under the pine on the spot. The three of us agreed that when the Lianghuai salt fields were successfully reorganized, we would gather here again to finish this wine.”

Gu Pingyuan looked at the amber-colored wine in his cup, then looked up at Old Master Hu in surprise, momentarily at a loss for words.

“Of the three, only I remain in this world. In old age, sitting daily in Tianshou Garden, that scene always wavers before my eyes. It’s rare that Masters Tao and Lin, holding first-rank court positions, so esteemed us Huizhou merchants and me, Hu Tailai. When I close my eyes forever and reach the netherworld, if I happen to meet them and they ask about the Lianghuai salt fields, I truly don’t know how to answer.” Speaking thus, Old Master Hu’s eyes moistened and tears fell.

“Now the capital merchants have used silver in court to occupy seventy-two salt fields in Lianghuai. But what good thing is that Li Wantang? Occupying salt fields, he’ll only do worse than the old Yangzhou salt merchants.” In his excitement, Old Master Hu began coughing violently, his face flushing red.

“Old Master, you’re advanced in years—please take care of your health.” Seeing his emotional state, Gu Pingyuan also felt sad and quickly came over to pat his back.

“Nephew, can you help me fulfill this wish and seize the Lianghuai salt fields back from the capital merchants?” As his coughing and wheezing subsided, Old Master Hu suddenly grabbed Gu Pingyuan’s hand and looked at him hopefully.

“This…” Gu Pingyuan was stunned—he never expected Old Master Hu would entrust him with this matter.

“Even setting aside past events, Lianghuai is too close to Huizhou. Li Wantang is no ordinary person. Look how last time he sent people to Huizhou and with just a few moves threw our Huizhou merchants into chaos, nearly causing great losses. If we really let him establish a stronghold in Lianghuai and earn great wealth from salt fields, he’ll definitely target us Huizhou merchants again. When he returns with massive capital, there’ll be big trouble.”

“How can we allow others to snore beside our couch?” Gu Pingyuan murmured.

“Exactly. Li Wantang isn’t just ‘others’—he’s a man-eating tiger that doesn’t spit out bones. With him watching hungrily from the side, sooner or later Huizhou merchants will have no good end.”

Gu Pingyuan also acknowledged this point, but his enterprise was just getting established—this was the time for steady, methodical progress. He was also currently entangled in family troubles, and besides, he had never believed commercial guilds necessarily had to fight each other to the death. So he was very hesitant about Old Master Hu’s proposal for proactive attack. Old Master Hu had done business all his life and was best at reading faces and minds. Seeing Gu Pingyuan’s real difficulty, he slowly backed down: “With Tao and Lin’s positions they still couldn’t accomplish this—how much more so we merchants? Nephew, you needn’t feel troubled. I was just moved by the scene and speaking casually.”

Though he said this, Gu Pingyuan didn’t think so. That jar of “celebration wine” wasn’t casually dug up for anyone to taste. Old Master Hu’s expectations for him were like Tao Shu and Lin Zexu’s expectations for the Hu family and Huizhou merchants—clearly hoping he could complete their unfinished business. This burden was truly too heavy, but from it one could see exactly how much Old Master Hu valued Gu Pingyuan as a person. Gu Pingyuan valued loyalty and righteousness above all else, feeling both moved and troubled:

“Old Master, as the saying goes, ‘a full meal is easy to eat, but full words are hard to speak.’ I cannot promise anything now—I can only see what happens after getting there. If Li Wantang minds his own business, then we won’t interfere with each other. But if he truly has plans harmful to Huizhou merchants, then…”

Gu Pingyuan didn’t finish his words, but the two men sitting face-to-face both understood. Capital merchants had deep roots in officialdom and occupied dozens of salt fields. If they really engaged in a great confrontation, not to mention victory or defeat was hard to predict—even if they won by chance, they’d probably be severely weakened.

“Difficult!” Old Master Hu closed his eyes thinking and shook his head.

This matter was temporarily left without conclusion. Old Master Hu also asked Gu Pingyuan, after reaching Zhenjiang, to make a nearby trip to Jiangning. Jiangning was the hub of north and south Jiangnan and also where tea merchants gathered. The city’s foremost large tea house was a branch of Hu Tailai Tea House, called “Shunde.”

Before the Taipings occupied Jiangning, Shunde Tea House was the largest shop besides the main store in Huizhou. After Hong Xiuquan changed Jiangning to “Tianjing,” the main store and Shunde could still initially communicate. Old Master Hu, understanding priorities, specially sent a servant with a letter to Shunde Tea House’s head manager, telling him to dismiss workers, close business, forbid doing business with Taipings, and just peacefully guard the shop.

Later, when the Jiangnan Grand Camp under the Zeng brothers’ leadership surrounded Jiangning city like an iron barrel, the main store and Shunde lost contact. Now that Jiangning was recovered, this port was a crucial point for north and south of the great river and also the Two Rivers Governor-General’s seat—extremely important. Old Master Hu planned to have Gu Pingyuan do some reorganization, preparing to reopen with great fanfare using the opportunity of Lanxue tea’s foreign export.

Gu Pingyuan naturally agreed without demur, speaking earnestly: “The Gu family and Tailai Tea House now have joint business—this is my duty. Rest assured, after reaching Jiangning, I’ll definitely reward those who faithfully guarded the store, then recruit capable workers anew to make Shunde Tea House’s business even more prosperous than before.”

“I’m afraid things aren’t that simple,” said the person seated above, after pondering for quite a while.

The person sitting below had a jade-like face and tall stature with extraordinary bearing. The crown on his head, adorned with twelve large Eastern pearls, unmistakably revealed his status as second only to one, above ten thousand others. Yet even Prince Gong, who controlled both the Grand Council and the Zongli Yamen, had to bow his head submissively in this imperial hall.

But in his heart he was unconvinced. Earlier when entering the Eastern Warm Hall to report business, the first several matters had gone smoothly: the candidate for Yunnan Governor, protocols for receiving the British mission, the latest Nian rebellion suppression plans submitted by the northern five provinces, and relief for the great drought in Shaanxi-Gansu—all were major military and state affairs. In less than half an hour, he had explained everything clearly before the Two Empress Dowagers and applied the imperial seal according to the Grand Council’s proposed handling methods. Seeing this errand handled satisfactorily, Prince Gong had been quite pleased, but unexpectedly Empress Dowager Cixi had pondered indecisively over the last small matter, waiting a long while before saying “it’s not that simple.”

“Could she be deliberately troubling me?” This thought flashed through Prince Gong’s mind, and he couldn’t help glancing upward.

Behind the curtain, two women’s silhouettes were dimly visible, the one sitting on the left being Western Empress Dowager Cixi. “The Eastern Palace excels in virtue, the Western Palace excels in talent”—since the regency behind curtains began, this had almost become the court’s consensus. After several years of governance, the original “Empress” Ci’an had become a “subordinate.” When matters arose, she almost never spoke, always listening to Cixi’s sole decisions.

Through the pearl curtain, Prince Gong could still see Cixi’s face—elegant but unkind, lips often pressed into a thin line, nose slightly prominent, eyes either staring or sweeping, emanating an unquestionable authority.

“This really doesn’t look like a woman’s expression—more like a Ministry of Justice official who’s presided over trials for decades.” As Prince Gong was wandering in thought, Cixi spoke again: “Sixth Prince, you seem to disagree with my words.”

“This subject dares not.” Ever since being publicly pointed out by Cixi in Qianqing Palace for being careless and mistaking an imperial poem by Qianlong for bandit work, Prince Gong’s attitude had become much more “respectful”—though it was outward compliance with inner resistance, at least the appearance was irreproachable.

“Sixth Prince, speak your mind. We two sisters live deep in the palace and can’t compare to you seeing and hearing much outside. Since you’re a deliberative prince, you should live up to your title.” The speaker was Empress Dowager Ci’an. Usually when things were about to reach an impasse, she would come out and say something to keep the discussion going. Prince Gong understood—anyone who said this eastern Empress Dowager was honest and useless was blind.

“This subject believes Zeng Guofan’s request is reasonable and doesn’t violate court regulations. Publicly honoring fallen soldiers at Golden Mountain Temple is the court remembering loyalty and bravery, comforting orphans, and can inspire morale among generals suppressing the Nian rebels. It seems it should be approved.”

“Sixth Prince, is that how you see it?” Cixi’s words carried a trace of mockery. Prince Gong didn’t understand her meaning and only nodded: “Exactly.”

“Then you’re really underestimating this Marshal Zeng Guofan.” Cixi paused, as if considering how to phrase it. “You probably remember that the late emperor once promised: whoever breaks the Taiping stronghold shall be enfeoffed as king!”

This was indeed so. That day in the Southern Study, those who heard Xianfeng say this, including Prince Gong, Prince Chun, Sushun, Wenwang and others, numbered no less than four or five people. Though not an official court decree, the emperor’s word was bond—naturally recorded and documented, verifiable.

“At Golden Mountain Temple’s ceremony for the dead and transcendence of heroic souls, the court must send Ministry of Rites officials to proclaim imperial comfort. Going so far, would they only give grace ceremonies to some dead people and have nothing to say to the living?”

“Your Majesty means… Zeng Guofan is using this matter to remind the court not to forget the promise of enfeoffment.” Prince Gong suddenly understood.

“More than reminding—this is clearly forcing the palace.” Cixi spoke bluntly.

Prince Gong couldn’t help defending Zeng Guofan: “This shouldn’t be the case. The Xiang Army just performed great service for the court, and Zeng Guofan has always been cautious and steady—how could he have disrespectful intentions?”

“Don’t forget that Zeng Guofan is now Two Rivers Governor-General, already commanding troops from three provinces—Jiangsu, Jiangxi, and Anhui. For convenience, the court also ordered him to control armies from Fujian-Zhejiang and the two Hu provinces, with authority to act first and report later. Plus the Yangtze River Navy was his sole creation—this equals half the empire’s military forces in his hands. These years while fighting, he’s been recommending battle achievements. Southern provincial governors are either Zeng Guofan’s former subordinates or his students and colleagues. He even has a younger brother, Zeng Guoquan, substantively appointed Jiangsu Governor—one brother as governor-general, another as governor in the same city.”

“Sixth Prince.” After this rapid speech, Cixi slowed her tone. “In the Kangxi reign’s Oboi and Wu Sangui, in the Yongzheng reign’s Nian Gengyao—when these people’s power was greatest, they probably didn’t match today’s Zeng Guofan.”

Prince Gong grew more alarmed. These people Cixi mentioned were all court traitors—how could she compare a meritorious minister with them?

Cixi pointed to the memorial on the desk: “Don’t think I’m worrying needlessly. This memorial arrived today, saying Zeng Guofan has established the Two Rivers Governor-General’s office in Hong Xiuquan’s Heavenly King Palace. Though that was originally the old Two Rivers Governor-General’s office site, it did serve as Hong’s false imperial palace. Zeng Guofan’s action may not be without deeper meaning.”

Ci’an felt this was overly suspicious: “Sister, Zeng Guofan has great merit for the state. Even enfeoffing him as king wouldn’t be excessive—besides, this was the late emperor’s wish.”

Ci’an raised the big hat of “late emperor,” making Cixi quickly change to a smile: “Look what sister says—how would I dare disrespect the late emperor? It’s just that lately I often think of two idioms: first is ‘having gained Long, desire Shu’; second is ‘give an inch, take a yard.’ People are never satisfied. Enfeoffing him as king rewards his merit in suppressing the Taipings, but don’t forget—king is not far from emperor. Who can guarantee that one holding heavy military power won’t harbor different intentions? ‘After the Three Feudatories, no outsiders shall be kings’—this was a rule left by the Kangxi Buddha. When Sacred Ancestor established this rule, he must have thought it through for preventing others from coveting the throne.”

The “Kangxi” hat was much bigger than “Xianfeng”—all three in the hall fell silent.

“Would Zeng Guofan rebel? I don’t think so.” After a long while, Ci’an smiled with difficulty.

“Sixth Prince, what do you think?” Cixi didn’t answer but asked Prince Gong.

Usually Prince Gong would immediately answer “no,” but now even he hesitated.

“Logically he wouldn’t, but it’s hard to guarantee no one around him hopes for support and enthronement merit…”

“Exactly.” Before he finished, Cixi interrupted: “Song Taizu’s Chenqiao Mutiny, the yellow robe forced upon him—was that willing? The Song Dynasty still replaced Later Zhou. Victors become kings, losers become bandits. When Zhao Kuangyin sat in the golden hall, no one went to court crying injustice for the Later Zhou emperor. Seizing the throne is a great matter with historical precedents—how can it be taken lightly?”

Prince Gong took a deep breath and nodded silently. Cixi’s words had some reason, but he was very reluctant to continue this topic. With the empire newly pacified, by rights everyone should unite and rest and recuperate, yet they were groundlessly suspicious of meritorious ministers—this wasn’t benevolent kingly way.

“Sixth Prince, in your opinion…” Cixi bit her fine silver teeth, as if accumulating strength bit by bit to speak the next sentence: “Should the court—force Zeng Guofan to rebel!”

These words struck his ears like lightning, making Prince Gong shiver with disbelief as he looked up toward the curtain. This time even Ci’an was speechless, probably also shocked by Cixi’s words.

“Ha ha!” Seeing neither responded, Cixi laughed softly first: “I was just joking. Sixth Prince, just listen and don’t take it seriously.”

“Yes.” Prince Gong’s answer was both bitter and astringent.

“Let’s discuss the enfeoffment matter further—we need a solution benefiting both sides. Since that’s the case, the Ministry of Rites can’t immediately send people to Jiangnan. Tell Zeng Guofan this is a great matter of commemorating millions of souls—the Imperial Observatory must choose the best auspicious date. Don’t rush—when the court sets the date, he’ll naturally be notified. Though the reward matter must be postponed, don’t chill Zeng Guofan’s heart lest someone use this to stir trouble. Recently, whatever Zeng Guofan requests, the Grand Council should give him satisfactory answers as much as possible—consider it slight appeasement.” Ci’an quickly added a sentence.

Prince Gong received the decree and left the Eastern Warm Hall. Walking across Lishui Bridge, he glanced back at the towering palace buildings and only then realized his undergarments had unknowingly become soaked through.