“What are you still coming here for!” Zeng Guoquan’s face was tense and rigid, his eyes revealing a fierce glint. “You wanted to withhold grain from the provincial treasury, and you wanted to use theatrical performances to persuade my elder brother—I complied with all of these requests, yet saw not the slightest effect. A few days ago you came again saying that as long as the Lianghuai salt fields fell into foreign merchants’ hands, we could rally the people of the realm to rise up and overthrow the corrupt and incompetent court, but that matter was also disrupted by that Hui merchant surnamed Gu. Hmph, do you still fancy yourself as ‘Zhuge with his brilliant schemes to pacify the realm’? If you can’t produce real ability, you’d better take my advice and find some remote border town to live in seclusion.”

Su Zixuan listened quietly to this sharp ridicule. After the Jiangsu Provincial Governor had finished venting his anger, she rose gracefully: “Why be so impatient? How could such great undertakings have guaranteed success? If it were truly easy, everyone would have become emperor.”

She paid no heed to the fierce tiger-like glint in Zeng Guoquan’s eyes, paced a few steps closer to him, and suddenly smiled: “However, what you say isn’t entirely wrong. Empty words are indeed hard to convince people with. Today I’ve come precisely to show you my ‘real ability.'”

“Oh.” Zeng Guoquan fixed his gaze upon her. Su Zixuan raised her hand, and behind her, Sixi swallowed hard, feeling his legs trembling slightly and his arms too weak to lift.

Su Zixuan turned back and glared at him. Only then did Sixi walk forward two steps tremblingly, pleading in a small voice: “Miss, perhaps we shouldn’t…”

“Lord Zeng, one doesn’t burn false incense before the true Buddha. What this thing is truly for, I’m afraid in all the vast Two Rivers region, no more than a few people know. Take a look!” As she spoke, Su Zixuan took from Sixi’s hands the document case that never left her side, lifted the lid, and opened it completely for Zeng Guoquan to see clearly.

Zeng Guoquan was initially curious, but when he saw clearly what was inside, his body involuntarily straightened, his eyes fixed intently on the contents of the case, as if seeing the most incredible thing.

His gaze was completely drawn in. He stared fixedly for a moment, then reached out his hand to grasp a golden, ruler-length command arrow, carefully weighing it in his hand. He squinted his eyes, holding it up to the sunlight to examine it closely before putting it back and slowly withdrawing his gaze to look at Su Zixuan, saying in a low voice: “How can this be? If the court knew you possessed this item, they would pursue you to the ends of the earth to capture you, turn the five lakes and four seas upside down and never let you go.”

“It seems Marshal Zeng Nine truly knows valuable goods and understands the gravity of this thing.” Su Zixuan smiled. “You still remember that my father was one of the five ministers who could enter the Imperial Study with sword and shoes, don’t you?”

“Even so, the nine great command arrows are inspected daily—how could Sushun have taken one out?”

“Substitution.” Su Zixuan said lightly. “Father described the appearance of these command arrows to me once. I drew the pattern and had master craftsmen forge one, secretly switching them without anyone knowing.”

That Su Zixuan could create an identical command arrow after hearing the description just once showed a cleverness that even Zeng Guoquan had to admire. He asked again: “If the forgery could pass for real, why risk switching them?”

Actually, Zeng Guoquan was asking knowingly. It was precisely because it couldn’t truly “pass for real” that Sushun had to risk taking one from the palace for emergency use. These nine golden command arrows were used by Emperor Taizu Nurhaci for troop deployment. Initially they were merely cast iron, but after entering the Central Plains and establishing the dynasty, they were covered with five metals, including meteoric iron. Under light they had a quartz-like luminescence—authenticity could be determined at a glance, though only provincial governors and generals knew this secret.

Ordinary military orders could use the Ministry of War’s seal or imperial edicts, but these nine golden command arrows kept in the Imperial Study could only be used when imperial relatives supervised armies, or in urgent situations requiring the emperor’s direct troop deployment orders. These arrows symbolized supreme imperial authority—when the arrow was issued, it was like a mountain’s command, and anyone who dared disobey, even governors, could be executed immediately!

The last time such a command arrow was issued was in the third year of Xianfeng’s reign, when the Long Hair rebels under Lin Fengxiang and Li Kaiyang’s leadership advanced north like a crushing force, causing panic throughout Zhili. In that critical moment, Prince Hui, the “Fifth Elder Prince,” was appointed as Grand General by imperial order to oversee capital defense. Because Prince Hui was an elder prince whose prestige was needed to steady people’s hearts, the emperor added special ceremony, not only bestowing leopard-tail spears but also using golden command arrows for transmitting orders. Afterward they were retrieved, and calculating from today, it had been over ten years. Now with Han Chinese controlling armies and self-financing military expenses, the emperor had no opportunity to use these nine command arrows—they merely gathered dust on the imperial desk. How could anyone notice that one was counterfeit?

“Hidden in plain sight! Who could have anticipated that Sushun had such audacity, and such a clever daughter? It seems the rumors about his intention to rebel weren’t false accusations after all.” Zeng Guoquan’s eyes kept rotating.

Su Zixuan merely smiled faintly. She knew that although this golden command arrow was an inanimate object, in Zeng Guoquan’s eyes it was blooming like a lotus, describing to him the beautiful prospect of ascending to heaven in one step. “What do you plan to do with it?” After thinking carefully for a moment, Zeng Guoquan asked slowly.

“The Nian rebels are lingering around Heze, pointing their swords toward the Central Plains heartland, intending to attack Kaifeng. Shandong Provincial Governor Yan Jingming should mobilize all troops immediately to rush to Kaifeng’s aid. This arrow is the troop deployment order for him.”

“All troops?”

“Correct, even county yamen runners and post station grooms must be deployed to Kaifeng, and speed is essential—they must depart immediately, otherwise it’s disobedience punishable by death!”

Zeng Guoquan slowly stood up, his tall, thin frame like a vulture, his sharp eyes looking at Su Zixuan while secretly applauding in his heart.

Su Zixuan was using this command arrow perfectly, truly using four ounces to move a thousand pounds. By deploying Shandong Province’s entire military force, Zhili would be left defenseless. The Xiang Army could drive straight in—the Eight Banners troops of Fengtai Camp and Xishan Elite Camp alone couldn’t stop these wolf-like soldiers who had just sharpened their blades on Long Hair necks. As long as they attacked Beijing like lightning and completely exterminated the Aisin Gioro clan, even if provincial governors had hearts loyal to the king, with the accomplished fact and no object of loyalty remaining, they would have no choice but to submit to the Zeng family.

“But no matter what you say, my elder brother simply refuses to rebel—what can be done about that!”

“You can act first and report later!” Su Zixuan interrupted abruptly. Looking at Zeng Guoquan who suddenly turned back, she said word by word: “During the Chenqiao Mutiny, Zhao Kuangyin also beat his chest and stamped his feet, complaining that his subordinate brothers had trapped him in disloyalty and injustice, but when the yellow robe was placed on him, he didn’t take it off either.”

“Besides, even if your elder brother won’t sit on the throne, isn’t there still Marshal Nine?”

After hearing this, Zeng Guoquan took a deep breath. He placed his hand on that golden command arrow again, feeling the irresistible power emanating from it. He closed his eyes and thought for a moment, then nodded heavily.

Su Zixuan smiled with relief, then murmured: “And that Li Qin—in the end, this stray dog can still be put to some use.”

The celebration banquet at Shunde Tea House was held five days later. Initially people didn’t know whom Gu Pingyuan was waiting for, until Qiao Zhiyong arrived dusty from abandoning ship at the dock, bringing back several baskets of Japanese products, and everyone suddenly understood.

“So that telegram was fake?” Secretary Hao slapped his forehead.

“The telegram wasn’t fake, but the news in it was.” Although Qiao Zhiyong looked tired, his spirits were excellent. At the table he cheerfully told everyone interesting stories about the island nation across the sea. “They actually eat raw fish there, which really startled me—I thought I’d arrived in a savage country.”

“And then, did Master Qiao also eat raw fish?” Peng Haiwan listened with great interest, and Shopkeeper Fei was also paying close attention. Both were interested in extending their business to Japan and eager to learn more about the Japanese.

“What about Li Qin? Are you just letting him go like this?” Qiao Zhiyong deliberately kept them in suspense, picking up a chopstick of wine-braised fish and putting it in his mouth, chewing while asking Gu Pingyuan.

Gu Pingyuan simply answered: “The British value practical profit most, especially that John the Chief. Having failed completely this time, he won’t protect Li Qin anymore. The yamen’s constables are already watching him. With national law in place, it won’t be so easy for him to escape again.”

“Mm.” Qiao Zhiyong could see that Gu Pingyuan didn’t seem willing to continue this topic, so he turned to smile and say: “On this trip to Japan at Brother Gu’s request, I understood one principle: no matter what country people are from, what they eat or wear, or what language they speak, their eyes immediately light up when they see silver. When I reached the Yokohama telegraph office and found the Japanese person who translated telegrams, I placed a thousand taels of snow-white silver before him. His eyeballs nearly fell out, and whatever I said, he recorded—truly more obedient than a trained myna bird.”

Everyone burst into laughter. Wang Chi also said: “Master Gu’s strategy of mixing truth and falsehood certainly fooled that John the Chief. Actually, he didn’t understand geography and never considered that with Yunnan and Guizhou’s many mountains and steep roads, horse teams couldn’t possibly reach the border between the Qing Dynasty and India in such a short time.” In fact, Gu Pingyuan had only instructed Wang Chi to take the horse team to a remote, uninhabited grassland in Jiangxi, where they rested and waited for word—forget India, they were still within Two Rivers territory. John the Chief never understood the true situation, or he would have been furious enough to vomit blood.

“Little brother, I truly admire you completely. Using ‘surround Wei to save Zhao’ to confuse the foreigners is one thing—after all, that’s from our ancestors—but you actually thought to create a fake telegram and use their own spear against their own shield. That’s truly a method this old brother could never have conceived even if he thought his head off.” Secretary Hao had changed to a new tobacco pipe bowl and took several deep puffs.

Chang Yu’er at the side laughed: “Elder Brother Hao, what I heard him say was ‘use their own methods against them.'”

Gu Pingyuan looked at his wife and also smiled: “Actually it’s the same thing. Foreigners use telegrams against us, so we use telegrams to repay them. They’re just newfangled things—being early to use them isn’t as good as using them cleverly.”

“Excellent! This time Master really made us Qing merchants hold our heads high with pride. All the humiliation we’ve suffered from foreigners these years has been completely vented!” Everyone chattered excitedly, all praising him.

“Elder brother, let me toast you.” Gu Yuting came forward holding a wine cup, her expression somewhat joyful yet somewhat sad. “When second brother chatted with me during his lifetime, he said you once told him that someday you would do business with the whole world. He said when that day came, he would certainly celebrate properly for you. Now you’ve truly achieved it, but he’s no longer here. I’m toasting this cup on his behalf, helping second brother fulfill this wish.” As she spoke, tears dripped into Gu Yuting’s wine cup. She drained it in one gulp, wiped away her tears, and looked at Gu Pingyuan with a smile.

Chang Yu’er went over to embrace her with heartache. Liu Heita silently drank a large bowl of wine beside them.

Gu Pingyuan’s face went pale, his heart suddenly piercing with pain. If second brother were alive, how happy he would be now! And mother, Chang Si’s father, Old Master Hu, Teacher Bai… and of course Bai Yimei. Gu Pingyuan couldn’t continue thinking. He also raised his wine cup and drank it down mixed with tears.

Everyone fell silent for a moment. Secretary Hao was an optimistic person who wasn’t accustomed to such scenes and quickly said: “Eh, Lord Zeng said he would come in plain clothes today—how is it we still don’t see him?”

“Lord Zeng handles ten thousand affairs daily. His saying so was just politeness—how could he actually come to this tea house as a guest?” Peng Haiwan scoffed.

“You don’t know—Lord Zeng has never broken his word. I’ll bet you that if he said he’d come, he definitely will.”

“Fine, what shall we bet?” The two deliberately drew everyone’s attention away. Just then, loud knocking came from outside.

“Ha! Before we’ve even set the stakes, I’ve already won. Nobody move.” Secretary Hao stopped the servants. “I’ll open the door.”

Everyone really thought Zeng Guofan had arrived and immediately fell quiet. Gu Pingyuan and the others came out to greet him. When the door opened, everyone was astonished.

It was indeed someone from the Governor-General’s yamen, and everyone recognized him—it was Secretary Xue. But he was very different from usual, with mud stains on his clothes as if he’d fallen somewhere, and his head was also injured with blood stains still unwashed. What particularly drew attention was Secretary Xue’s expression—alarmed and angry, with bewildered panic in his brow and eyes.

“Secretary Xue, where have you come from?” Gu Pingyuan suddenly felt an ominous premonition rising in his heart and quickly invited Secretary Xue inside. As Secretary Xue walked in, he didn’t forget to look back and instruct: “Close the main door!”

After catching his breath slightly, Secretary Xue began: “I come in urgency seeking refuge—Master Gu, don’t blame me. The current situation is truly unexpected, and I don’t know what to do.”

Secretary Hao, having worked in government offices, was greatly alarmed upon hearing this. Secretary Xue was Zeng Guofan’s aide—even the greatest matters would have Zeng Guofan to bear responsibility. Yet now he spoke such words and had fled here in panic—could it be that…

“What happened to Lord Zeng?” Gu Pingyuan asked directly.

“I don’t know. The Governor-General’s yamen is surrounded by soldiers. This evening I took an old friend to visit Peach Leaf Ferry bookstore together, and when we returned, the yamen was already surrounded by troops. Fortunately I noticed quickly and wasn’t discovered by them.”

“Whose soldiers?!” Secretary Hao’s question was what everyone most wanted to know. The Two Rivers region was now Xiang Army territory—who had eaten leopard gall to dare provoke Zeng Guofan? Weren’t they afraid the Xiang Army would chop them up to feed the dogs?

However, Secretary Xue’s fearful answer made everyone shiver in unison—”It’s Lord Zeng’s younger brother—Zeng Guoquan’s soldiers.” Secretary Xue sighed deeply. “He wants to… wants to…”

“He wants to raise troops in rebellion, but Lord Zeng won’t agree, so he’s simply acting first. When the rice is cooked, he won’t worry about Lord Zeng not swallowing it.” Gu Pingyuan immediately guessed Zeng Guoquan’s intention.

This was truly an enormous matter. Not to mention others—even Qiao Zhiyong and Wang Chi, these two distant guests, thinking of the serious consequences this event would bring, thinking of how the realm would again become a battlefield with rivers of blood and corpses everywhere, despite their great courage and many schemes, couldn’t help but turn pale.

“This matter can’t be delayed. If it drags on long, it will certainly cause great chaos. If the garrison general or provincial treasurer or judicial commissioner are harmed, the court will never let it pass.” Secretary Xue had never expected that Zeng Guoquan, who had always revered his elder brother like a deity, would suddenly change his nature. On his way here, he had also considered warning the court, but immediately realized that doing so would be tantamount to helping Zeng Guoquan—if the court determined the Xiang Army was treasonous, the matter would be irretrievable.

“Sigh, I wonder who has such ability to actually incite the ninth master to place Lord Zeng under house arrest. Brothers turning against each other—this affair is truly deplorable.”

“I know who it is.” Gu Pingyuan suddenly spoke, drawing everyone’s surprised gazes.

Chang Yu’er came to her husband’s side: “You think it’s that Master Su?”

Gu Pingyuan nodded slightly: “It must be her! Yu’er, people throughout the realm have finally gained this peaceful situation—it can’t be destroyed in one day. I must find her and persuade her to pull back from the brink.”

His wife gave him the answer he most wanted: “Do what you should do. The child and I will wait here for your return.”

“Are you absolutely certain?” Qiao Henian’s eyes flashed with phosphorus-like light as he quietly asked his manservant Kang Qi, who had just returned from gathering information.

“Master, it’s absolutely true. The Xiang Army has already entered the city in formation. If you hadn’t acted wisely, we couldn’t leave the city now.” Kang Qi wiped sweat from his forehead. “I secretly borrowed a horse from the nearby post station. Master, mount up and I’ll escort you to Hangzhou to report. If Li Hongzhang learns of the Xiang Army’s rebellion, this would be a great service.”

Qiao Henian’s mind was spinning rapidly. With Zeng Guoquan’s fierce domineering nature, he clearly intended to strike directly at the capital, catching the court off guard, just like Li Zicheng in former days—seize the golden throne and enthrone Zeng Guofan as emperor. The question was: what were the Xiang Army’s chances of founding a dynasty? Should he join the Zeng family or go to Zhejiang to warn Li Hongzhang’s Huai Army? This concerned his prosperity and wealth for the rest of his life and couldn’t be taken lightly.

“Master, let’s leave quickly. Once the post road checkpoints are sealed by soldiers, it will be difficult to travel.” Kang Qi urged.

“Leaving is easy, but where to go is the key.” Qiao Henian simply sat down. Having been in the Two Rivers region for several years under Li Hongzhang’s secret orders, secretly monitoring the Xiang Army’s movements and particularly watching the Zeng brothers, at this critical moment, Qiao Henian absolutely trusted his judgment: Zeng Guofan definitely wouldn’t rebel. This meant the Xiang Army would be leaderless. Actually, the court had long made arrangements—Shandong’s Yan Jingming was always upright and would never join Zeng Guoquan in rebellion. Add Zhejiang’s Li Hongzhang’s Huai Army and Fujian’s Zuo Zongtang’s Chu Army forming a three-sided encirclement. Zeng Guoquan might initially gain some advantage, but once it dragged on, without Zeng Guofan’s support internally and surrounded by three armies externally, even wanting to occupy half the realm would be a delusion!

Thinking of this, Qiao Henian finally stood up, reached for the reins, and ordered Kang Qi: “You go immediately to Zhejiang Provincial Governor’s yamen and report to Lord Li, telling him everything here.”

“I… I go to Zhejiang?” Kang Qi was stunned. “Then what about you, Master? Where are you going?”

“Being an official is like doing business—since this is a rare commodity, one must choose the best customer and sell for the best price.” Li Hongzhang was a provincial governor who could offer at most a prefectural position. Qiao Henian’s eyes were always fixed on the direction of the capital.

Finding Su Zixuan wasn’t difficult at all—she seemed to be deliberately waiting for Gu Pingyuan to find her. Instead, it was Gu Pingyuan who was stunned upon meeting her.

Su Zixuan was wearing women’s clothing!

This was the second time Gu Pingyuan had seen her in feminine attire. The last time at Prince Chun’s mansion, she was merely dressed as a palace maid, yet was already breathtakingly beautiful. Now Su Zixuan wore a fine silk solid-colored pleated skirt with golden and silver thread embroidery extending diagonally from the hem to the waist, cinched with a wide rouge-red belt that emphasized her slender waist, showing off her graceful figure. Over this she wore a brocade-lined purple sable fur cloak, giving an impression both elegant and magnificent. Her braids were undone and loosely arranged in a cloud-like chignon, her black hair draped over her beautiful shoulders, her eyes flowing with emotion, her glances capable of toppling cities—truly beautiful beyond description.

Gu Pingyuan felt that when Su Zixuan with her star-bright eyes walked gracefully toward him, it could only be described as moonlight skimming across water. When she reached him, he actually forgot how to begin the words he had already prepared.

“Congratulations.” Su Zixuan spoke first, unexpectedly saying these three words.

“You…” Gu Pingyuan hesitated. “I have no joyful occasion. I’ve come here about a worrying matter.”

Su Zixuan smiled charmingly: “What worries you might be what brings others joy—isn’t it said that some families rejoice while others grieve?”

“I fear it’s more like one general’s success built on ten thousand bones.” Gu Pingyuan said coldly. “Must you stir up this just-pacified Qing realm into complete chaos just for revenge? How many lives will be lost in vain!” He suddenly felt discouraged. “No matter what I say, you won’t give up. You’re bold enough to poison and attempt to assassinate the current Empress Dowager, to collude with Nian rebels to trap and kill princes—what wouldn’t you dare do?”

“You’re right. I’ve long placed life and death beyond consideration.” Su Zixuan said softly.

“But you have no right to decide others’ life and death. Those people you’ve never met—they also have families, old and young, they also have joys and sorrows. Having suffered enough, they live merely to survive. Yet you… you want to stir up such great chaos, making them lose their homes and families, plunging them into pain and wailing. Can you truly bear to do this?”

“If I had a heart, perhaps I wouldn’t bear it. But when my family was destroyed and I resolved on revenge, I had already dug out my heart and used it to make sacrifice to my father and entire family.” Su Zixuan’s answer left Gu Pingyuan speechless.

“Actually, I’ve been waiting for you.” Su Zixuan moved another step closer to Gu Pingyuan, close enough that he could smell that faint, elusive maiden fragrance, making his heartbeat quicken several beats.

Su Zixuan looked at Gu Pingyuan with bright eyes and said: “From childhood to adulthood, I’ve never admired anyone, but your perseverance and wisdom exceed my imagination. Do you know? When I last helped Li Qin set a trap, having him use the indemnity money the Ministry of Revenue owed foreigners to deal with you, actually in my heart I didn’t believe Li Qin would win, simply because he was facing you. Though I also didn’t know how to solve this difficult problem I’d created, the moment I posed it, I already understood it couldn’t stump you. You would always find a way to win.”

Su Zixuan hesitated but finally said: “I—greatly admire you.”

Sixi was so surprised she nearly dropped the document case she was holding. She stared wide-eyed at her mistress, never dreaming such words would come from her mouth.

“So what? Can that make you listen to my advice?” Gu Pingyuan countered.

Su Zixuan smiled and shook her head: “No, quite the opposite. Because I admire you, you can hear what I’m about to tell you next.”

She moved even closer, almost eliminating any distance between herself and Gu Pingyuan, tilting her head slightly up to look directly at him: “You’ve already achieved your great revenge. Will you spend the rest of your life pursuing petty profits, burying your head in calculations and scales? You were born to do great things—you shouldn’t be merely a merchant. You could walk this path with me. You and I…”

Gu Pingyuan’s heart pounded as if it would burst from his chest. Looking into Su Zixuan’s bright eyes, he felt that if he reached out to embrace her now, she would never refuse.

Sixi’s eyes widened. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing—couldn’t believe that facing the devastatingly beautiful Su Zixuan, Gu Pingyuan actually hesitated briefly then gently stepped back half a step, creating distance between them.

After Su Zixuan’s body briefly stiffened, she relaxed, shaking her head with a bitter smile that held some relief: “Yes, this is you.”

“I actually want you very much.” Gu Pingyuan said frankly. “But I can’t afford you. Just thinking of the price to be paid, even the most beautiful Su Zixuan would be nothing more than painted bones.”

“Too foolish—not daring to take what you want for the sake of all under heaven.” Gu Pingyuan looked at her, his gaze unknowingly becoming gentle: “Miss Su.”

Su Zixuan trembled, slowly looking toward Gu Pingyuan. This was the first time he had addressed her this way.

“You think I’m saving the people of the realm, but actually I’m more concerned with saving you.” Gu Pingyuan spoke from his heart. “That person now ordained at Jinshan Temple, after his great enlightenment, once told me that having abandoned wife and children to spend twenty years seeking revenge, he knew best what hatred tasted like. It can make you lose your humanity, make you unable to taste food or sleep peacefully, make you suffer constantly as if poisonous snakes were gnawing at your heart. In the end, everything in the world becomes unimportant to you—only revenge matters. You don’t even want to accomplish this deed quickly, because you know that once great revenge is achieved, what remains is only unbearable emptiness and powerlessness. After revenge, all you have left are the dregs after the beast of hatred has chewed and devoured everything.”

Su Zixuan’s face gradually paled. She understood that everything Gu Pingyuan said was true, because this was exactly what she was experiencing.

“The Li father and son were successively driven by hatred to do things despised and cursed by the world, and they themselves received retribution. With such immediate consequences before your eyes, can’t this awaken you?”

Gu Pingyuan looked at Su Zixuan with complex eyes—a gaze containing both love and anger, along with concern and worry. Finally he said: “Buddha said ‘The sea of suffering has no bounds; turning back is the shore.’ You should truly contemplate these eight words. It’s not too late to turn back now. If you persist in creating boundless killing catastrophe, then in my eyes, you won’t even measure up to Li Qin.”

Su Zixuan’s heart suddenly shook. Looking up to see Gu Pingyuan had already turned to leave, she opened her mouth to call out but ultimately made no sound, only staring blankly at his retreating figure.

“Master Gu…” Not far after Gu Pingyuan left, he heard a call from behind. It was Sixi who had caught up.

“I’ll tell you something. Miss actually gave Zeng Guoquan a plan to have him kill foreigners, so the matter would become impossible to resolve.”

Gu Pingyuan was startled. Seeing that Sixi didn’t seem to be lying, he quickly asked: “But offending foreigners—isn’t that taboo?”

“No, it’s to push the blame onto the court. Zeng Guoquan will send troops to kill both the salt workers and that John the Chief together, claiming the salt workers were angry that the court favored foreigners in the bidding matter and intended to hand them over to foreigners as laborers, so they acted in resentment.” Sixi explained clearly in a few words. “As for Li Qin, Miss found him and had him find a way to stay overnight at an inn in Songjiang Prefecture before the foreigners entered Shanghai, offering this as a condition for the yamen not arresting him. Li Qin immediately agreed.”

Sixi returned absent-mindedly. Su Zixuan maintained her previous posture without moving. After a while, Su Zixuan asked: “You told him everything?”

Sixi knelt down, her face full of distress: “This is the first time I’ve disobeyed Miss’s words, but I truly feel Gu Pingyuan was right. Hatred gnawing at the heart—isn’t that exactly why I see Miss suffering daily? Let’s give up—let’s not think about revenge anymore, all right?”

Su Zixuan bit her lower lip, murmuring to herself: “I originally thought there were no such people in the world, so I showed no mercy to others. I originally thought there were no such men in the world, so I preferred not to be a woman. But…” She closed her eyes. Her jade-like hand wiped away a pearl-like tear from the corner of her eye. She couldn’t distinguish what she felt now—whether she was sad and unwilling because Gu Pingyuan compared her to Li Qin, or whether her heart was shaken because Gu Pingyuan’s words showed her the consequences hatred would bring, or whether it was because she finally realized she was playing too large a game of chess—a board so vast and boundless it inspired fear.

“Let’s go!” Su Zixuan forcibly collected her thoughts and suddenly gave a sharp command.

“Go?” Sixi asked in bewilderment.

“Time to show this golden command arrow to the Shandong Provincial Governor.” Su Zixuan’s gaze turned cold and hard, as if containing ice.

“Miss…” Sixi’s body went limp as she pleaded in a low voice.

When Gu Pingyuan rushed to the inn at Songjiang Prefecture, two groups of people were arguing inside. Upon seeing Gu Pingyuan, both sides stopped.

“Mr. Gu? You’ve come at just the right time.” John the Chief frowned tightly, saying angrily, “I’ve already satisfied all the conditions you proposed. You can’t send these salt workers to humiliate me—this isn’t civilized behavior.”

Gu Pingyuan swept his gaze around but didn’t see Li Qin. Instead, he unsurprisingly saw over twenty salt workers, led by Yang Fuqing, who had tried to kill him that day at the Nantong seawall construction site. Of course, he didn’t know this man was the Assistant King of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom, but he understood he was the leader of the salt workers, so he stepped forward and asked: “Who ordered you to come here?”

Ever since Gu Pingyuan had unexpectedly not exposed the truth at the seawall, Yang Fuqing and others were initially confused. Later they gradually learned from the Qing soldiers guarding the salt fields that the real culprit who had lured Sengge Rinchen’s cavalry from Shandong to Shouzhou was someone else. Later they discovered that Gu Pingyuan had secretly used large amounts of silver to bribe the salt field guards, buying rice and medicine for the salt workers and their families, adding firewood and clothes. The resentment in their hearts had unknowingly dissipated by more than half. Until last month, when Zhang Pige told Yang Fuqing that before Bai Yimei died, she had entrusted the Brave King’s orphan to Gu Pingyuan’s care. Only then could Yang Fuqing be certain that even if the Brave King’s death was somehow connected to Gu Pingyuan, it was definitely all a misunderstanding. The Brave King’s consort had reconciled with him before her death, otherwise how could she have entrusted her only child—this Chen family descendant whom the court desperately wanted to capture—to the Gu family? And Gu Pingyuan’s courage to take on this deadly responsibility further proved this man’s integrity, showing he was definitely not a petty villain.

Of course, this wasn’t the time for deep discussion. Yang Fuqing simply answered straightforwardly: “Don’t know what medicine the Qing soldiers took, but they suddenly imprisoned a group of old and young, telling us to come here to demand ten thousand taels of debt from the foreigners, to take the silver back to ransom people.”

Upon hearing this, Gu Pingyuan understood everything. This was all a prepared trap. Even if Yang Fuqing and others had suspicions, with their lives in others’ hands, they had no choice but to come “collect the debt.” As for John the Chief, being unreasonable even when wrong was his nature—how could he endure such baseless extortion from Qing people he had always looked down upon?

One side demanding silver, the other absolutely refusing to give it—naturally they would argue loudly, drawing the attention of the innkeeper, servants, and many lodging guests. Gu Pingyuan knew danger was approaching and couldn’t afford lengthy explanations. He cupped his hands in salute: “Mr. John, someone wants to kill you and frame these salt workers. If you don’t leave quickly, you’ll all face mortal danger.”

John the Chief didn’t believe it, shaking his head incredulously: “This place isn’t far from Shanghai, and we’re in the prefectural city. How could there be murder and arson? What you’re saying is too far-fetched.”

But Yang Fuqing believed it. Having fought through seas of blood, his sense for danger far exceeded ordinary people. He had long felt something was wrong and quickly asked: “Master Gu, who wants to frame us?”

“You’re just scapegoats. They really want to harm the foreigners. If they don’t die, you won’t be in trouble. Listen to me—take the foreigners and rush to Shanghai immediately. Once you reach the concession, you’ll be safe.”

“Good!” At this moment, Yang Fuqing obeyed Gu Pingyuan completely. With a wave of his hand, ignoring John the Chief’s protests, he and his men lifted them up and strode quickly toward the inn’s exit.

Just as they reached the courtyard, everyone was shocked and instinctively stopped.

At some unknown time, a row of black-clothed men wearing face masks and carrying strong bows and crossbows had silently appeared in the courtyard. On the courtyard walls, every three feet apart, crouched another person, all with bows drawn and arrows aimed at the crowd.

A terrifying atmosphere filled the entire inn. People stared at those sharp arrowheads gleaming coldly in the reflection of the eaves lanterns, as if they could hear the whistling of arrows cutting through air after bowstrings were released.

Yang Fuqing, battle-hardened as he was, immediately noticed something and whispered to Gu Pingyuan: “They’re all carrying Xiang Army equipment.”

“Mm.” Gu Pingyuan naturally knew this in his heart. He hadn’t expected Zeng Guoquan to act so quickly and immediately broke into a cold sweat.

Strangely, although these men had clearly set up their formation, they delayed attacking, as if waiting for orders.

Gu Pingyuan hesitated no longer. He stepped forward and was about to speak when he heard a tall, burly man opposite point at him and say first: “You leave. Everyone else stays.”

“Why let only me go?”

“Stop talking nonsense. If you don’t leave, do you want to stay and wait for death? I’m about to order arrows to be shot.” the big man shouted.

“General Bao?” Gu Pingyuan looked carefully and suddenly called out.

“Oh, this…” The big man was stunned, hesitated, then simply removed his face mask. It was indeed Bao Chao, the general commanding the Xiang Army’s cavalry and infantry heavy forces. “Master Gu, how did you get mixed up in this?” He frowned reluctantly.

“What crime have these people committed? Even if they’re guilty, there are government constables to arrest people. Why deploy Xiang Army elites, and why does a distinguished general personally appear?” Gu Pingyuan didn’t answer but asked in return, while speaking he looked toward John the Chief, seeing fear already showing in his eyes. Even a fool could understand that setting up this formation meant total annihilation.

Indeed, Bao Chao said impatiently: “Leave quickly. Let me tell you straight—everyone in this inn will be killed, not one left alive. Letting you go is already giving you great face. You must keep your mouth shut, otherwise I can’t protect you either.”

Hearing this, people in the inn were so frightened their legs shook like sieves. The timid ones rolled their eyes back and fainted from fear.

Gu Pingyuan’s act of returning gold and sword had long earned him a good reputation in the Xiang Army. Add to this his recent decisive defeat of foreign arrogance, which made these soldiers feel exceptionally pleased, so Bao Chao greatly admired him, considering him loyal and capable. Today he had brought his team here for a mission to “leave no blade of grass,” but discovering Gu Pingyuan among them, he couldn’t bear to strike him down and wanted to give him a way out.

Who knew Gu Pingyuan wouldn’t appreciate it. Looking at the courtyard full of arrows ready to strike, he first had everyone retreat into the house, then turned to block the doorway himself, his face grave as water: “General Bao, don’t let others manipulate you. I know you once sold your wife to join the army, and after achieving success, you redeemed her without any disdain—you’re a man who values loyalty and righteousness. Think about it: once rebellion fails, what cruel treatment will your wife suffer? Even if rebellion succeeds, how many of your old brothers will survive? They could have enjoyed peaceful prosperity—why drag them onto battlefields to face uncertain disaster?”

Gu Pingyuan spoke with reason and evidence. The Xiang Army was originally recruited from Hunan farmers and common people. After a hundred battles and achieving success, they were already war-weary. Now having to rebel against the court made them even more anxious. Hearing these words, some immediately loosened their grip, turning their heads to glance at each other and exchange looks.

Bao Chao was so anxious he broke into sweat. He snorted angrily, strode over, pulled a short-barreled foreign gun from his chest, pressed it against Gu Pingyuan’s forehead, and said in a muffled voice: “Will you move or not? If not, I kill without blinking—shooting you dead and then going in would be the same.”

Gu Pingyuan straightened his body and said in a low voice: “General, if I step aside, I might preserve my life today, but I couldn’t escape the future chaos—wouldn’t that be the same?” His eyes were bright as autumn water, meeting Bao Chao’s fierce gaze without yielding an inch.

Bao Chao gritted his teeth, the muscles in his cheeks twitching. His thumb pressed tighter and tighter—just a little more force and the bullet would immediately pierce through Gu Pingyuan’s head.

“Say what? Say that again!” Zeng Guoquan jumped up from his tiger-skin chair as if spring-loaded. He took two quick steps forward, lowering his head to look at the kneeling scout with hawk-like eyes.

“All troops under Shandong Provincial Governor’s jurisdiction assembled days ago at various passes and crossings on the border between Two Rivers and Shandong. Even at narrow waterways, they’ve set up foreign cannons on shore for blockade.”

“After assembling, instead of heading to Henan, they blocked the main routes from Two Rivers to Zhili. Why is what you’re saying exactly opposite to what they should be doing?!” Zeng Guoquan was both shocked and furious, his eyes nearly bulging out.

“This humble one dares not make false reports. Everywhere I investigated was like this. If Your Excellency doesn’t believe it, you can summon other scouts to ask. There’s another matter this humble one discovered: Yan Jingming made such urgent arrangements because he received direct orders from the Emperor.”

“What do you mean by direct orders?”

“I heard… heard he received a golden command arrow.”

This answer struck Zeng Guoquan’s heart like a heavy hammer. He staggered back two steps, slumped back into his chair, and suddenly a terrible thought arose: “Could this all be the court’s conspiracy from beginning to end? Could Su Zixuan actually be someone sent by the court, solely to lure the Xiang Army into rebellion, giving the court a legitimate reason to eliminate the Xiang Army and the Zeng brothers?” He shivered with cold fear, not daring to think further.

He sat there lost in thought until someone approached and gently called: “Ninth Master.”

Zeng Guoquan looked up, his eyes immediately lighting up: “Secretary Xue! You’ve come from my elder brother. Does he have words for you to bring me?”

Secretary Xue shook his head. Zeng Guoquan leaned forward, pressing: “Really not a single word?” Secretary Xue took out a book from his sleeve and handed it over.

“Lord Zeng only instructed me to bring Ninth Master a book, asking you to flip through it when you have time between handling military affairs.”

“Oh?” Zeng Guoquan took it in bewilderment. It was a copy of the “Book of Han.” He casually opened it and found a bookmark on one page—the same one his elder brother had made from rushes when they were young, teaching several brothers to read. His own had long been lost, but he hadn’t expected his elder brother to still keep it.

Lost in random thoughts, his gaze fell on the characters on the page. It was from the “Li Guang and Su Jian Biographies,” precisely the section about “Su Wu tending sheep,” with several lines underlined in fine script.

“Confucius said: ‘The resolute scholar and the benevolent man will kill themselves to achieve benevolence, not seek life to harm benevolence.’ … When sent as envoys to the four directions, they do not disgrace their sovereign’s commands.” Zeng Guoquan read softly. He understood—this was his elder brother’s most serious warning. Zeng Guofan would rather die than bear the infamy of plotting against the dynasty and betraying his sovereign.

With Shandong prepared, surprise attack was now impossible. Soon the Huai Army and Chu Army would receive news, and the Xiang Army would be surrounded, tasting the flavor of being besieged on all sides. Even if they could hold out and continue fighting, their chances of victory were only fifty-fifty. Moreover, if Zeng Guofan committed suicide, the entire Xiang Army would mutiny, and there wouldn’t even be any fighting necessary. Thinking of this, Zeng Guoquan deflated like a punctured ball.

“Someone come.” He ordered weakly: “Transmit this governor’s orders: withdraw all arrangements. All soldiers return to camp immediately. Those who don’t return to camp by nightfall will be punished for violating military law.”

Secretary Xue breathed a sigh of relief. After all, he shared the Zeng family’s fate. Though he knew he shouldn’t speak, he still offered a reminder.

“Ninth Master, your grand display, though you’ve pulled back from the brink, how can the court let this pass? At minimum you must give the court a face-saving excuse not to come investigate this case in Two Rivers.”

“That’s simple. I’ve already thought of it.” Zeng Guoquan said in a gloomy tone: “The salt workers at the Lianghuai salt fields were originally Long Hair remnants. Since being captured, they’ve been unwilling to accept defeat. This time they had treasonous stirrings, so this governor sent troops to suppress them. To prevent salt workers from escaping and disturbing various areas, we imposed martial law throughout Two Rivers to search and capture them, especially in Jiangning city. Fearing salt workers might infiltrate and harm court officials, we sent troops to guard government offices everywhere. Secretary Xue, how does this sound?”

Secretary Xue understood immediately. Though his heart ached, there was no alternative, so he could only nod silently in the end. Pushing failure onto the salt workers was something Zeng Guoquan had clearly planned long ago, otherwise he couldn’t have spoken so fluently with perfect logic. Only this would require a great slaughter to make the lie seem true and shut the court’s mouth. Hundreds and thousands of salt workers would confusedly become scapegoats.

“Go back and tell my elder brother that I’ll come to apologize within a few days.” Zeng Guoquan’s voice returned to its former coldness.

The people in the inn were like those who had made a round trip through the gates of hell, clearly having stepped one foot inside, only to be pulled back.

At the critical moment, someone rode swiftly to deliver orders. After listening, Bao Chao’s expression remained uncertain for a long time. The people in the inn watched him anxiously, fearing to hear terrible orders from his mouth.

However, unexpectedly, Bao Chao finally ordered everyone to withdraw. Before leaving, he looked at Gu Pingyuan, gave him a thumbs up, and grinned: “Master Gu, in terms of loyalty I’ve long admired you, in terms of strategy I can’t catch up even on horseback, and I never imagined today you’d make me admire your courage too. Nothing more to say—if the court doesn’t want Old Bao’s head when we return, I’ll definitely treat you to drinks to calm your nerves.”

Once Bao Chao withdrew with his men, everyone immediately surrounded Gu Pingyuan, treating him like a life-saving Buddha. Everyone understood clearly that without Gu Pingyuan’s intervention, they wouldn’t have lived to see anyone come with orders—in moments the inn would have been swept clean of the living.

“Mr. Gu, you’re a messenger sent by God. Thanks to you for saving our lives.” John the Chief kept making the sign of the cross on his chest, then said bitterly: “I understand now—that Li Qin was in league with them. Otherwise he wouldn’t have insisted I stay here one night while he himself disappeared without a trace.”

Gu Pingyuan nodded: “Mr. John, since you understand, that’s for the best. I hope in the future you can do proper business with Qing merchants and stop having ideas about opium and such. Anyone who would do opium business with you definitely harbors ill intentions—dealing with such people will cost you sooner or later.”

“Yes, yes.” John the Chief agreed repeatedly. “Mr. Gu is a true gentleman, a trustworthy person. This time I owe you greatly. In the future we can become the best business partners.”

“Good. Right now I have a business proposition, hoping you’ll agree to it.”

“What business?” John the Chief was startled.

“Human lives!”

Li Qin hadn’t “disappeared without a trace” as John the Chief said. He hadn’t even gone far, watching from half a street away. When he saw Gu Pingyuan appear, his heart leaped with joy, hoping Bao Chao would kill Gu Pingyuan too to satisfy his hatred. But after waiting most of an hour, the Xiang Army silently withdrew. Only then did Li Qin realize something was terribly wrong.

If they wanted to silence witnesses, he would naturally be first. So he frantically headed toward the wilderness outside Songjiang Prefecture. He had long planned his escape route: first send a letter to the Ministry of Justice in the capital, linking Gu Pingyuan with the Brave King’s consort and Sushun’s daughter. These two cases would skin him alive even if they didn’t kill him. After hiding in the shadows to watch the Gu family’s downfall, he could leave satisfied.

He was secretly calculating how to take a boat from the ferry to Tianjin, find the foreign firm where he once learned business, and somehow obtain money, when he suddenly heard a cold snort ahead.

Li Qin’s body trembled. Looking forward, he saw a man and woman emerge from behind a large tree that would take two people to encircle. He recognized both—one was Gu Yuting, the other Liu Heita.

Li Qin was so frightened his leg muscles cramped. He turned to flee, but carelessly caught his robe hem on wild grass, tripping himself. Before he could get up, Liu Heita was already limping toward him.

Pointing to his own foot, he said menacingly: “Heaven has delivered you into my hands. What more do you have to say? Hmph, you owe too many blood debts. Just my Chang family’s debt alone, your one life isn’t enough to repay!” As he spoke, he raised the nine-section chain whip he’d been carrying.

Li Qin’s legs were so weak he couldn’t stand. Rolling and crawling, he retreated with hands and feet together. Liu Heita pressed forward step by step, watching him like a mouse caught in a trap, fire blazing in his eyes.

“You can’t let him kill me. I’m your brother—you can’t just watch me be killed.” In desperation, Li Qin pleaded with Gu Yuting nearby.

“Brother?” Gu Yuting laughed scornfully, her laugh filled with tremendous hatred. She then spat.

“You’re utterly conscienceless, killing my mother, my second brother, my unborn nephew, then still having the face to mention the word ‘brother’ to me. Just thinking about it makes me sick enough to vomit.”

“Hand me over to the authorities, let them judge my crimes. You can’t lynch and kill—that’s also a capital offense.” Li Qin screamed frantically.

“This is wilderness. Kill a person or two and bury them underground—when they’re discovered, who knows if it’ll be hundreds of years later.” Liu Heita said fiercely. He pressed closer and closer, watching Li Qin’s eyes widen in terror, the nerves behind those eyes nearly snapping.

“Ah!” Liu Heita used all his strength to roar, his chain whip cutting through air with thunderous sound. Li Qin’s heart and gall were shattered, with nowhere to escape. Seeing the whip fall, it struck heavily on his left shoulder with a crack—bones immediately shattered, and Li Qin rolled his eyes back and fainted.

“See, I was right—Zeng Guoquan really was going to rebel.” Sitting behind the curtain, Cixi looked at the thick pile of documents on the imperial desk, reports from Shandong and Zhejiang provincial governors’ offices and various Two Rivers officials. Ten days had passed since the incident, the truth was generally clear, but the difficult part was handling the aftermath. Military ministers had deliberated multiple times without reaching a conclusion, so they respectfully requested imperial decision.

Cixi had always felt that with the Long Hair rebels gone, the Xiang Army was the greatest threat to her son, the young Emperor Tongzhi. Though Zeng Guoquan’s attempted rebellion showed no clear evidence, he had nevertheless exposed himself, further confirming her views about the Xiang Army.

“But this time we also saw Zeng Guofan’s loyalty. He’d rather die than be coerced into rebellion, showing true faithful honesty.” Ci’an still remembered the former emperor’s promise—”Those who pacify the Long Hair rebels shall be enfeoffed with royal titles.” For not honoring the late emperor’s will to reward Zeng Guofan, she had always felt she owed the Zeng family and Xiang Army, as if crossing the river and destroying the bridge, putting herself in the wrong first. Therefore she advocated mainly appeasing the Xiang Army.

Neither Prince Gong nor the military ministers advocated severely punishing the Xiang Army. The reason was simple: if they drove the Xiang Army to rebellion, who would suppress it? And who could guarantee the suppressors wouldn’t become the next Xiang Army? Such cycles would certainly destroy the Qing Dynasty.

“But we can’t pretend ignorance and ignore it. The Tang Dynasty’s imperial power was swept away and regional warlords carved up territories precisely because the center was weak and could be bullied. If the court keeps retreating now, it might actually provoke disloyal hearts among frontier officials.”

Cixi’s words also made another kind of sense that couldn’t be refuted and couldn’t be taken lightly. The hall fell into momentary silence.

After a long while, Ci’an broke the quiet, first praising someone: “That Qiao fellow, the Lianghuai Salt Transport Commissioner—he’s truly a loyal minister. I heard he rode without sleep or rest, not even dismounting to eat or drink, racing from Two Rivers to the capital in one breath to raise the alarm. When his horse entered Chongwen Gate, he fell off. Is this true?”

“Reporting to the Empress Dowager, this is true. Qiao Henian learned of Xiang Army disturbances and immediately rushed to the capital to warn, without any delay.”

“Remarkable, remarkable. This shows the nation’s daily cultivation of scholars bearing fruit, which is why I say talent must be nurtured, not wasted.” Ci’an slowly led into the main topic. “Zeng Guofan has great talent. If he doesn’t change heart, it’s useless for anyone in the Xiang Army to want rebellion—this incident is clear proof. Honestly speaking, it’s been quite some time since he captured Jiangning, yet the court hasn’t mentioned enfeoffment. That’s indeed somewhat… no wonder the Xiang Army has grievances. Sister, what do you think?”

“Sister speaks correctly.” Seeing that everyone in the great hall was unwilling to severely punish the Xiang Army, Cixi couldn’t go against everyone’s will. This was her consistent method: since the court all respected Empress Dowager Ci’an, she would respect her too. By keeping Ci’an in her palm, she could subdue the entire court. Therefore she almost never opposed Ci’an’s words. Even when they contradicted her own wishes, she always yielded, planning to gradually change things later.

Prince Gong breathed a sigh of relief, pointing to the golden command arrow on the imperial desk: “The Empress Dowager speaks truly. In over ten years, no one knew this great command had been lost. Now that it appears, it helped the court ward off disaster. According to Shandong Provincial Governor Yan Jingming, the messenger disappeared without trace—how do we know it wasn’t Heaven protecting our Qing Dynasty?”

With the Prince Regent speaking thus, the remaining military ministers naturally had to chime in with flattery and praise. Ci’an smiled radiantly. Though Cixi also smiled along, inwardly she snorted coldly: “Hmph, Sixth Brother, don’t try fooling around. You’re a Prince of the Blood, overseeing all military and state affairs. The golden command arrow was replaced without anyone knowing when, yet you push it off on immortals, dismissing all responsibility with light words. Everyone says you’re the cleverest, but I’m not settling accounts with you now—wait for the right moment to show you what’s what.”

Thinking this, she showed nothing on her face, instead continuing along this topic: “In my opinion, preventing great chaos and cutting out evil at its inception—one person deserves the greatest credit.”

Ci’an knew who she meant: “You mean that Hui merchant surnamed Gu?”

“Exactly him. Last time the court lost tremendous face—the British glared and we didn’t dare say anything, obediently giving them all the silver that should have been paid annually, even emptying the national treasury.” Cixi casually stabbed at Prince Gong, then continued: “But this Gu fellow truly has ability, actually making the British admit defeat and return the silver to the national treasury. A merchant brought honor to our Qing Dynasty—something all our learned civil and military officials couldn’t accomplish.”

With these words, the military ministers, especially Prince Gong who managed the Zongli Yamen, reddened and fell silent.

Ci’an felt she had gone somewhat too far, but couldn’t find fault with the reasoning. She suddenly remembered something: “Is this Gu Pingyuan the tea merchant who produces the tribute tea ‘Lanxue’?”

“That’s him. Don’t laugh at me, sister—I was the one who bestowed the title ‘World’s First Tea’ on him.” This was exactly what Cixi wanted to lead to.

Sure enough, Ci’an nodded: “You see, your recognition wasn’t mistaken. This man’s business is indeed excellent—even the British were defeated by him.”

“More than that.” Cixi hated foreigners most in her life—if not for foreigners, why would she have been widowed so young? Everything Gu Pingyuan did suited her perfectly. She picked up a document translated by the Tongwen Guan: “Sister, look at this—it’s a protest from the British consul.”

“A British protest?!” Ci’an was startled.

“Don’t worry. Besides protesting the Xiang Army’s attempt to assassinate the British Jardine Matheson chief, this also highly praises Gu Pingyuan, thanking him for risking his life to save them. Because of Gu Pingyuan’s righteous act, the British will limit themselves to written protest only, with no actual retaliation.”

Ci’an closed her eyes, stroking her chest: “It seems these foreigners can also distinguish good from bad, not just shouting for violence regardless of right or wrong.”

“So Gu Pingyuan’s merit is great indeed. Think about it—if the British had been killed without reason, probably even Zeng Guofan couldn’t have resolved it. Since there’d be no turning back, they’d have no choice but to rebel completely.” Cixi said: “If foreigners misunderstood that the court’s lax supervision allowed salt workers to kill foreign merchants, then Zeng Guoquan could have allied with foreigners—wouldn’t that be unstoppable? Today in this hall, the scene would be quite different. Could we still deliberate calmly?”

Ci’an nodded in deep agreement. She stood up with an apologetic smile: “In that case, I must go burn incense before the Buddha, thanking Heaven for protecting our Qing Dynasty from strange disasters. Sister, just hearing about nearly provoking foreigners makes my heart race. Since you also don’t plan to severely punish the Xiang Army, discuss the remaining matters with Sixth Brother. In sum, I have one phrase: ‘Spare others when possible.'”

After everyone respectfully escorted Empress Dowager Ci’an to the inner palace, Prince Gong said: “This matter has actually been discussed thoroughly. The entire Xiang Army listens to Zeng Guofan. If he harbors no treasonous thoughts, others can’t stir up trouble. The court’s best approach is responding to changes without changing, avoiding complications that might provoke incidents. Our ministers’ opinion: since we’re not severely punishing, we might as well give Zeng Guofan face by not punishing him at all. He’ll surely be grateful and fully restrain his subordinates, reorganizing the Xiang Army so such incidents never recur.”

Seeing him wanting to hastily conclude this matter, Cixi knew he and Zeng Guofan must have exchanged private correspondence, perhaps already reaching agreement. Another cold laugh arose in her heart: “Sixth Brother, oh Sixth Brother, do you think the Dowager Empress’s regency is just for show? Don’t even think about it!” She didn’t respond, but reached for Zeng Guofan’s recent memorial, reading it unhurriedly line by line, nodding slightly: “According to this memorial, Zeng Guofan is indeed very sensible. In my view, the court mustn’t chill a loyal minister’s heart. That long-delayed reward should be given on this occasion.”

Thunder had not yet struck, but rain and dew arrived first. When Cixi spoke these words, several military ministers all thought they had misheard, staring in unison at the pearl curtain with wide eyes.

Cixi smiled broadly, then said something no one could understand: “All who have rendered service should be rewarded, merchants included. This is perfect for teaching that upstart Zeng Laojiu a lesson, and letting these frontier officials who think defeating the Long Hair rebels means they can ignore the court know their place and understand what constitutes proper court protocol.”

Li Qin awoke from unconsciousness, feeling his throat burning like fire, unconsciously crying out: “Water, water!”

Someone beside him actually handed over a bowl of water. Just as Li Qin was about to reach for it, sharp pain shot through his shoulder. He cried out loudly, then remembered—Liu Heita had injured him. He touched the wound and found it bandaged and medicated. Li Qin swayed as he stood up, feeling unsteady. After staggering a few steps, he realized it wasn’t an illusion—he was indeed on a large ship. And this wasn’t an ordinary vessel, but a foreign iron steamship with two thick smokestacks belching black smoke.

Looking around, he saw no land. Turning back, he found a group of raggedly dressed people watching him.

“I… where am I?”

“Need you ask? On a ship.” Someone nearby answered. Li Qin turned to see a man in his fifties holding a bowl—the same person who had given him water.

Li Qin was confused and forced a smile: “I… how did I get here?” The thirsty feeling struck again, and he reached out with his other hand for the bowl.

But the old man moved the bowl away. Looking at Li Qin’s puzzled gaze, he stood up, his eyes suddenly becoming sharp as blades, staring intently at the man before him.

“Someone asked me to pass along some words. Since you’re awake, listen first—you can drink water afterward.”

Li Qin swallowed hard, looking at him without speaking.

“Your injury was from Master Liu. He says you crippled his foot, so he’s crippled your arm—you’re even. As for those blood debts, they’re all left to Master Gu to handle.”

Master Liu must be Liu Heita. So these people were sent by the Gu family? Li Qin’s heart pounded as he unconsciously stepped back, only then remembering he was on a ship with nowhere to retreat.

“The rest are Master Gu’s words. Before speaking them, let me tell you what we people on this ship do.” The man continued: “We’re all salt workers from the Lianghuai salt fields. What, Master Li really doesn’t recognize us?”

Li Qin was stunned. He had never regarded these salt workers as human beings—in his view, they were merely dogs earning silver for the Li family. How could he remember their faces?

“You don’t know us, but I know you. Back when building the seawall at Yancheng, because you pushed the construction schedule, quite a few salt workers died.”

“That… that was…” Li Qin looked around, seeing everyone glaring at him angrily, and stammered.

The speaker was naturally Assistant King Yang Fuqing. He waved his hand: “Don’t worry. If not for your scheming against the foreigners, we wouldn’t be on this ship. It’s a blessing in disguise that saved so many salt workers’ lives—that debt is settled.”

Gu Pingyuan knew Zeng Guoquan wouldn’t spare these salt workers, and he also knew Bai Yimei had always wanted to find them a way out. Taking advantage of saving John the Chief, he proposed to the foreigners that they “purchase” all the Lianghuai salt field workers to ship overseas. They would still be laborers, but no longer as prisoners.

This business was exactly what John the Chief wanted—Jardine Matheson’s plantations in the Americas desperately needed large numbers of workers. Gu Pingyuan negotiated the price and handed over every penny of the “body price silver” to the salt workers.

“Master Gu told us that rather than stay in the Qing Dynasty to be slowly tortured to death by officials, it’s better to fly far away—where can’t one make a living? He spoke absolute truth, truly finding us rebels a way out, one where the Qing demons can never harm us again.” Yang Fuqing let out a long breath. “Before boarding, Master Gu handed you over to us. He said the blood debts you carry—forget killing you once, even three or five times, dismembering you piece by piece couldn’t offset your sins. You can act against human nature and heavenly principle, but Master Gu won’t do such beastly things. Since heavenly justice still exists, let Heaven punish you, sparing worldly hands from being dirtied. However, Master Gu still gave you slight punishment. When the Li family in the capital framed him and had him exiled to the frontier, now he repays you in kind, exiling you to overseas lands ten thousand li away, leaving you to live or die on your own.” Speaking thus, Yang Fuqing took a pair of white jade bottles from someone nearby and stuffed them into Li Qin’s arms.

“These are from Master Gu.” Yang Fuqing said contemptuously. “He said they were originally yours anyway. He’s finally waited for the day to return them to you—consider them your capital for staying alive overseas.”

Li Qin’s face went bloodlessly pale. This pair of white jade bottles were the “congratulatory gift” he had sent on Gu Pingyuan’s wedding day, later using them to cruelly humiliate Gu Pingyuan. He stared blankly at the bottles as if seeing Heaven’s greatest mockery of himself.

“Exile… I’m an exile?” he murmured, then suddenly lost composure, laughing wildly at the sky until tears streamed down.

“Drink.” Yang Fuqing handed over the bowl of water. Li Qin took it and drained it in one gulp. Wiping his mouth, he ignored the salt workers and walked alone to the ship’s stern, gazing at the long-invisible Qing Dynasty.

“Gu Pingyuan, just wait. Someday I’ll return—I’ll definitely reclaim everything that belongs to me.” Li Qin swore vengeance in his heart, staring at where sea met sky.

Just then, his vision went black as he realized a large hemp sack had covered him from head to foot. Several people tied the sack’s mouth shut with many hands. Li Qin cried out angrily, when suddenly someone pressed close to his ear through the sack, saying clearly: “The Gu family spared you, the salt workers spared you, but you can’t escape the Brave King’s blood debt. Today is the time to repay it.”

Li Qin’s heart kept sinking as if falling into a bottomless abyss. Before he could cry out, the sack was already lifted up. Li Qin realized what was about to happen and struggled desperately, but that sack wrapped him like merciless fate.

“Using water as wine, we send you on your way!” Yang Fuqing waved his hand forcefully. Several salt workers hurled the sack into the ocean. Those on the ship heard only half a terrified scream from overboard—the rest was swallowed by crashing waves along with the splash.

The court announcing imperial edicts while specifically summoning a merchant without official rank was unprecedented. But the envoy sent to announce the edict surprised Two Rivers officialdom even more.

Stepping majestically from the sedan chair, bearing imperial authority, was actually Qiao Henian.

In just a few days, Qiao Henian had changed into official robes—wearing golden pheasant insignia, coral cap ornament, and among the golden kingfisher feathers behind his official hat, one brilliant “eye” gleamed—actually a single-eyed plume, countless times more precious than red cap ornaments.

He smiled broadly, nodding to former colleagues while walking with measured steps toward the reception pavilion under envious and jealous gazes, approaching the incense table.

“By imperial edict: Two Rivers Governor-General Zeng Guofan, Jiangsu Provincial Governor Zeng Guoquan, and all officials great and small, receive the edict.”

Below, a sea of horsehoof sleeves beat thunderously. Led by Zeng Guofan, all officials knelt and kowtowed, respectfully requesting the emperor’s health.

“His Majesty is well!” As imperial envoy, Qiao Henian now stood facing south, watching first-rank governors-general and generals, especially “the realm’s first minister” Zeng Guofan, all kneeling before him. Pride welled up in his heart—who would have thought this poor scholar from Shanxi would see such a day?

He slowly unrolled the imperial edict, declaring loudly: “There are three edicts. The first: Assistant Grand Secretary and Two Rivers Governor-General Zeng Guofan, since receiving imperial orders to train troops in the third year of Xianfeng, personally led Xiang volunteers to encircle and exterminate Long Hair rebels. Resolute and decisive, with proper deployment, after ten years he recovered Jiangning and eliminated the bandits—truly meritorious achievement. Zeng Guofan is granted additional Grand Protector of the Crown Prince title, enfeoffed as First-Class Marquis with hereditary succession without diminishment, and awarded double-eyed plume. By this edict.”

This was rare reward in three dynasties, yet the direct Xiang Army generals listening below couldn’t help feeling disappointed. The “royal title” everyone had long awaited, the court ultimately didn’t grant. Only now did people understand—counting Zeng Guoquan’s earl title, Li Chendian’s viscount, Xiao Fusi’s baron, and Zhu Hongzhang’s cavalry captain hereditary position, the court had split one royal title into five parts, distributing them separately. “What a clever calculation.” Zeng Guoquan felt stifled, muttering quietly.

Others didn’t hear clearly, but Zeng Guofan caught it. He turned slightly to glare at him fiercely, then kowtowed in gratitude, repeatedly declaring imperial grace boundless and his own terror, speaking until tears streamed down.

“Old Noble Lord, court honors have their considerations—if anyone in the realm deserves this gracious reward, it’s none but you. Why such modesty?” Qiao Henian offered gentle comfort, then produced the second edict.

This second edict rambled like family conversation, beginning with how Zeng Guofan, despite being in mourning at home, didn’t avoid suspicion or shirk hardship, courageously undertaking recruitment and training. It said he, as a scholar, showed martial courage, personally leading troops to the front lines, achieving great success through extreme hardship—truly another famous minister and excellent chancellor since the Kangxi-Qianlong prosperity.

Such lengthy discourse made Zeng Guofan increasingly uncomfortable. He waited for Qiao Henian to finish reading, determined to immediately decline modestly, never letting people think he was proud of his achievements or harbored thoughts of overwhelming his sovereign.

Before completing this thought, the edict concluded with a change of tone. It said Zeng Guofan had recently submitted a memorial requesting the court disband the Xiang Army, using this as reason to argue that since he and Zeng Guoquan had personally created the Xiang Army, disbanding it would inevitably involve personal relationships and many inconveniences, hoping the court would appoint another high official to handle the matter.

“This minister’s public loyalty and understanding of the greater picture is recognized by the court, which sympathizes with his difficulties. Therefore, granting his request: Zeng Guofan is immediately transferred to Zhili Governor-General; Zhejiang Provincial Governor Li Hongzhang will temporarily manage Two Rivers Governor-General duties; Zeng Guoquan is immediately transferred to Shanxi Provincial Governor; newly appointed Jiangsu Provincial Treasurer Qiao Henian will temporarily manage Jiangsu Provincial Governor duties. By this edict!”

After Qiao Henian finished reading this edict, the courtyard fell silent. Some stood stunned as wooden chickens, others secretly rejoiced, while still others burned with anger.

Zeng Guoquan straightened up, sternly asking his elder brother: “Did you really request this from the court yourself?”

Zeng Guofan looked at his brother with mixed feelings. He had countless things to say, but ultimately only managed an barely perceptible bitter smile, nodding slightly.

“Congratulations, Lord Zeng. Zhili Governor-General has always been called ‘leader of frontier ministers.’ The court’s regard for you is truly cause for celebration.”

“Hahaha, leader of frontier ministers…” Zeng Guoquan laughed loudly, as if chewing these four words to pieces in his mouth. He stared at Qiao Henian: “Such clever words—the court truly sent the right person to deliver edicts. Then tell me, what is Shanxi Provincial Governor?”

“This…” Qiao Henian momentarily couldn’t respond.

“Guoquan! How can you be rude before the imperial envoy? Apologize immediately!” Zeng Guofan urgently shouted, forgetting this was also improper behavior. The imperial envoy represented the Son of Heaven—if censors impeached Zeng Guoquan’s conduct, it would be tantamount to offending imperial dignity.

“Elder brother! We both know clearly why we’re being transferred to these two positions—isn’t it because these posts are famously without military authority!” Zeng Guoquan was red with rage, then turned to smile viciously: “Lord Qiao, who would have thought you’d ascend to heaven in one step, taking my position. I’ll have to rely on your care for my former subordinates. Oh yes, I heard you rushed to the capital so fast you took a tumble, but picked up a big treasure?”

His words mixed sarcasm with insults, his face full of scorn and mockery. But Qiao Henian ignored him, addressing Zeng Guofan calmly: “The court has a third edict—a secret one. Please move to a private room to receive it.” He gestured toward Zeng Guoquan as well.

Hearing of a secret edict, the atmosphere tensed again. Everyone speculated this edict might relate to the recent Two Rivers disturbances, though having just rewarded the Zeng family with official transfers completed, logically there should be no further punishment.

While people whispered and discussed quietly, they were surprised to see Qiao Henian approach Gu Pingyuan, who had been standing in the corridor, with a broad smile.

“Master Gu, you must also receive the edict.”

“Me?” Gu Pingyuan didn’t understand why he’d been called today to stand among a group of officials. Hearing this, he was even more confused. Looking around, he met astonished gazes everywhere, including Zeng Guofan’s bewildered stare. This secret edict that even major officials like Jiangning’s Provincial Treasurer and Judicial Commissioner couldn’t hear required both Zeng family governors and commoner Gu Pingyuan to receive together—this completely baffled everyone present. They could only watch them enter the Governor-General’s yamen signing room, then see two attendants carry in something large and square like a plaque, covered with bright yellow silk, before those two withdrew.

Being bright yellow, it must be imperially bestowed, but to whom? And why issue a secret edict? This inexplicable behavior caused an immediate uproar in the courtyard, with everyone talking at once.

Outside was chaos, but inside the signing room was completely quiet. Each harboring their own thoughts, Qiao Henian was the only one who knew what would happen. Looking at the three men before him, his heart was full of emotion.

Collecting himself, he began: “This is an orally transmitted secret edict. You two lords naturally understand the rules. Master Gu, after hearing this, you must not leak a single word, or it’s the crime of deceiving the emperor.”

“Yes, this common citizen will certainly keep silent.”

Qiao Henian took a deep breath, then fell silent for a moment. His extreme caution made the three men’s hearts rise with his, while Zeng Guoquan secretly prepared that if the court pursued “treason” charges, even if it meant mutual destruction, he couldn’t wait passively for death.

The voice finally sounded: “Huizhou merchant Gu Pingyuan saved Lianghuai salt fields from British barbarians, enhancing Qing Dynasty prestige; quelled Two Rivers disturbances at their inception, protecting people’s livelihoods. His resolve is commendable, his merit enormous. The court specially bestows a plaque in recognition. By this edict.”

The edict was brief. After speaking, Qiao Henian walked to the wooden plaque standing by the wall, reaching for a corner of the bright yellow silk as if holding something weighing a thousand pounds, slowly pulling the yellow silk away.

The other three had been staring without blinking. As the yellow silk fell, they saw four large characters painted in gold on the huge wooden plaque:

“HUIZHOU MERCHANT KING!”

Gu Pingyuan’s mind exploded with a “boom”—everything before him shattered, then gradually reassembled. He rubbed his eyes and looked again carefully. No mistake—these four characters were clearly written on the court’s gold-bestowed plaque, each word weighing a thousand pounds.

“Huizhou Merchant King”—the key was that “King” character. Since it was court bestowal, the emperor’s word was final, equivalent to enfeoffing Gu Pingyuan with royal rank!

Even Zeng Guofan, who usually remained unmoved though Mount Tai collapsed before him, was stunned. This was absolutely impossible, yet appeared genuinely before their eyes. Having long navigated official circles, he immediately grasped the implications. This wasn’t about Gu Pingyuan receiving royal rank as a commoner, nor about himself achieving only marquis rank after a hundred victorious battles. The court’s meaning was crystal clear—to give the Zeng family and Xiang Army a show of force, demonstrating that personnel authority and grace came from above. Whether advancement or retreat, prominence or obscurity, even life or death were all in the court’s control. Anyone who tried to fight would only achieve disgrace instead of honor.

The secret edict’s phrase “quelled Two Rivers disturbances at their inception” used Spring and Autumn Annals literary technique. On the surface it continued the previous sentence about foreign merchants competing for Lianghuai salt fields, but actually referred darkly to Zeng Guoquan’s troop movements and attempted rebellion. Understanding this, Zeng Guofan sighed deeply in his heart, bowing his head with overwhelming fear.

Zeng Guoquan’s face turned liver-colored. He too understood—this was a secret edict ten times more severe than harsh condemnation, like a slap across his face, like spit in his eye. Unwilling to accept this humiliation yet helpless, he understood that since the court was now wary of the Zeng family, arrangements had certainly been made before the edict’s arrival. Perhaps right now, Li Hongzhang’s staff officers were already taking control of Xiang Army military authority with troops. He suddenly remembered that day at Tongqing Tower when Su Zixuan had ordered those three plays—the faces of Wu Zixu, Yue Fei, and Xu Da flashed before his eyes. “Others are the blade and chopping board, I am the fish and meat.” Always proud and haughty, Zeng Laojiu felt desolation rise in his heart. He mechanically twitched his mouth corners, forcing out a smile uglier than crying, and cupped his hands toward Gu Pingyuan.

“Master Gu, since the Three Feudatories, non-relatives haven’t been kings. Our Zeng family achieved such great merit, yet still can’t compare to your accomplishments. Today you are the one with true cause for celebration.”

Gu Pingyuan said nothing, his face showing mixed sorrow and joy, not knowing what to say. Having been stripped of scholar rank, he had abandoned all court ambitions for this lifetime, yet suddenly received the highest rank a minister could achieve. Was this a dream? Even dreams wouldn’t be this fantastic. If he walked out this door and told people, who would believe it? He’d truly become a madman. But with such mad events happening before his eyes, who was really mad?

“Master Gu, this is an unprecedented anomaly, extraordinary grace from the court. Won’t you give thanks?” Qiao Henian watched the three men’s expressions like a magnificent drama.

Only then did Gu Pingyuan seem to awaken, stiffly kowtowing deeply: “This commoner thanks imperial grace.”

Qiao Henian coughed lightly, speaking with careful precision: “The court commanded this official to announce the secret edict for good reason. Gu Pingyuan receiving this plaque recognizes his excellence among merchants, bringing honor to the Qing Dynasty. But after all, ‘royal enfeoffment’ is too conspicuous—once made public, it would certainly cause universal uproar. Therefore the two governors witness that from now on, Gu Pingyuan may only treasure this title in his heart, never revealing it publicly. As for this plaque, after viewing it, this official will dispose of it.”

Speaking thus, Qiao Henian lit a fire stick, bringing the flame to the wooden plaque. Having been brushed with tung oil several times, it ignited immediately, instantly enveloping the plaque in flames and black smoke. The several men felt completely bewildered, staring blankly as the plaque burned. Fire danced and flickered, flames licking that “King” character. The brilliant gold paint gradually disappeared, and when it turned to ash, it looked no different from anything else.

Several days later, a group stood at the foot of Sanshan Cliff outside Jiangning city. This was where Eastern Wu’s last emperor Sun Hao had carried his coffin to surrender—”Thousand-fathom iron chains sank to the river bottom, one surrender banner emerged from Stone City.” Even during spring’s grass growth and oriole flight, when willows were green and peaches red, it saddened viewers, let alone now with dark skies, fierce north winds, and great masses of crimson clouds rolling rapidly overhead. Under the vast sky, everything was gray and indistinct, making distances unclear. Only the monotonous clicking of dry branches hitting each other in the wild wind could be heard.

“Master, please don’t leave. The salt fields still need you to oversee everything. Today the new Two Rivers Governor-General Li also sent someone with an invitation, asking you to visit his residence. Though Lord Zeng has left, the government still relies on you. This is the perfect time to display your talents—why retreat at the height of success?” Shopkeeper Peng pleaded tearfully.

Secretary Hao helped persuade: “Even if you don’t want to stay in Jiangning, then return to Huizhou. Why go to such a remote place as Yunnan?”

Gu Pingyuan led a horse carrying baggage. Wang Chi stood beside him, holding cart reins—the master of the Wang Fourth Horse Company personally prepared to harness up, waiting for Chang Yu’er and her child to board.

But Gu Pingyuan seemed in good spirits, smiling continuously: “Don’t try to persuade me. Haven’t I explained clearly these past days? I was able to defeat the foreigners this time by relying on merchant guilds’ united cooperation. I owe countless merchants a debt I don’t know how to repay.” He pointed to Wang Chi: “He told me that Yunnan and Guizhou have many small merchants who want to expand their businesses but don’t know how. I’ve decided to go help them do business. Not just Yunnan and Guizhou—in the future I’ll travel over countless mountains and rivers, to every prefecture and county of the Qing Dynasty. Wherever merchants face difficulties, if I see them I’ll help, if I encounter them I’ll assist, doing everything in my power, giving everything I have. I hope to unite all merchants as one family, making all merchant guilds abandon sectarian views and see themselves as members of the Great Qing Merchant Guild.”

This aspiration stirred the merchants present beyond self-control. Qiao Zhiyong was first to applaud enthusiastically: “Brother Gu, your ability to abandon such great business shows me my own inadequacy. Hey, what you’re doing is truly great business—though unprofitable, nothing in the world could be more remarkable. I only regret having too many affairs, or I’d really want to travel with you. After you finish Yunnan and Guizhou business, come to Shanxi—Madame Lei, Shopkeeper Mao, and I will be waiting.”

“Rest assured, I’ll definitely come.” Gu Pingyuan nodded with a smile.

“Elder brother, you’re leaving all the business to us—I can’t manage it.” Gu Yuting and Liu Heita stood to the side, her round eyes wide with worry.

“With Elder Brother Hao, Shopkeeper Peng, and Shopkeeper Fei here, ask more questions and learn more—you’ll catch on quickly. Besides, elder brother will return periodically.” Gu Pingyuan glanced at his wife with some difficulty: “But Yu’er, you should really stay with the child. Even wait until the child is older before I return for you both. This journey through high mountains and steep roads, sleeping rough and eating simply, will be hard.”

“It’s fine.” Chang Yu’er looked at the sleeping child in her arms, also smiling, apparently not considering it hardship. “How can a family be separated? Besides, the child is about to start talking—if he calls ‘papa’ and you’re not there to answer, who will respond? Don’t worry about us. It’s good for children to suffer some hardship from young age. As for me, being able to follow you across countless waters and mountains makes me incredibly happy.”

“Who knows a husband better than his wife”—Chang Yu’er knew that Two Rivers was a place of sorrow for Gu Pingyuan. The pain of losing family, the grief of lost love, thoughts of his deceased teacher—all urged him to leave this place. His earlier words weren’t false, but he was indeed using this opportunity to travel far from home. Whether he’d return in the future depended on his state of mind. But this didn’t matter to Chang Yu’er—as long as she could stay by Gu Pingyuan’s side, her heart would always be at peace.

Actually, no one including Chang Yu’er knew that Gu Pingyuan insisted on leaving for another reason hidden in his heart.

Through consecutive battles with capital merchants and foreign merchants, protecting Lianghuai salt fields, he had become an unparalleled figure in Qing Dynasty commercial circles. But he also saw that his current shopkeepers, clerks, all Huizhou merchants, and merchants partnering with him now revered him like a deity, waiting for his decisions on everything. This couldn’t continue—no one was perfect, and if he made mistakes someday, he might implicate all Huizhou merchants. Moreover, if everyone depended on him long-term, they’d lose business acumen, which would be harming them.

There were no walls without cracks in the world—his single-handedly preventing renewed warfare in Jiangnan was gradually becoming widely known. Now countless merchant guilds, international merchants, government offices, the Xiang Army… countless eyes were watching him, many probably harboring ill intentions. The moment of fame and fortune might also be when he became everyone’s target.

Gu Pingyuan was, after all, a well-read merchant. He knew that throughout history, countless people had fallen shortly after success into irretrievable ruin. History was full of such cases—fundamentally because they didn’t understand worldly affairs, stepping forward when they should have stepped back, inevitably stumbling into emptiness.

“Sudden great fame brings misfortune.” For himself and others, Gu Pingyuan was determined to withdraw.

“Shopkeeper Zhang, I have a request—please help with this.” He addressed the shopkeepers of the “Four Great Hengs.”

“Master Gu, please command us.”

“I heard the Li family property is being sold by officials?”

“Yes, the Ministry of Revenue handles this matter.”

“Good, when you return to the capital, please help me purchase the Li family’s large residence.”

“Oh, oh…” Shopkeeper Zhang agreed but looked puzzled at Gu Pingyuan.

“I also trouble you shopkeepers to renovate it into a Merchant Charity School. In the future I’ll build such schools everywhere. All merchant children can study there free of charge, learning not only business methods but also how to treat people with sincerity and handle affairs with righteousness, avoiding the Li family’s mistakes.” Gu Pingyuan looked serious—clearly he’d long planned this.

The “Four Great Hengs” shopkeepers suddenly understood, nodding repeatedly in agreement.

Gu Pingyuan didn’t want to give too many instructions. Just as he was about to cup his hands in farewell, he suddenly looked behind the crowd with surprise.

Everyone turned to discover that the book boy who usually followed Su Zixuan was now dressed as a maidservant—actually a young woman. Her face streaked with tears, she stood behind them somewhat at a loss.

“Master Gu, Miss doesn’t want me anymore.” Sixi cried her heart out, extremely heartbroken.

“What happened?”

“She said nothing in heaven and earth concerns her anymore, so she doesn’t want anyone by her side. She told me to find you and ask you to take me in.”

“Where is she?”

Sixi sobbed: “I don’t know. She left—don’t know where.”

“Alas!” Gu Pingyuan sighed. Once Su Zixuan’s life-sustaining wish collapsed, probably even she didn’t know where to go.

“I hope she’ll soon know where she should go.” Chang Yu’er and the child indeed needed care. After gaining his wife’s consent, Gu Pingyuan kept Sixi.

Amid waving farewells, Gu Pingyuan’s group slowly headed south. Not far out, they heard ethereal flute music floating through the air. Listening carefully, the sound came from nearby Sanshan Cliff, but river mist obscured the mountain peak. In the intermittent visibility, they couldn’t find the source of that heavenly music.

“It’s Miss’s jade flute—she’s come to see you off.” Sixi jumped up shouting, but Su Zixuan never responded.

“First ‘High Mountains and Flowing Water,’ then ‘Yang Pass Three Variations’… even kindred spirits must eventually part.” Wind carried the flute melody. Gu Pingyuan stood tall with the others, quietly listening.

“From today’s parting, two hearts apart in endless longing, who will tell of this?

From today’s farewell, two hearts yearn in dreams, hearing wild geese as guests.”

The long-flowing river matched life’s long regrets. In this moment, those staying and those leaving, hearing the flute music, were all entranced.