His son Han Feicong fought desperately while bending down to help his father, also shouting in rage and defeat, pointing at Han Feichi’s nose across the crowd: “Zhongheng, have you lost your mind! You’d rather help an outsider! Qi Jingchen is not your blood brother! Your surname is Han! You’ll carry the surname Han for life!”
He screamed heart-rendingly, like the final death cry of birds and beasts, extremely shrill. Yet when it reached Han Feichi’s ears, it stirred no reaction in him. He only watched coldly as his uncle and cousin were driven step by step toward death, his eyes showing little sorrow, only indifference.
Watching everything before him, his thoughts drifted somewhat, and at this moment he found himself recalling past events in vivid detail.
He remembered reading as a child, with photographic memory and ability to recite after reading. The elders in his family all treasured him greatly, calling him a once-in-a-century prodigy. Given time, he would surely achieve great talent, perhaps even surpassing that famous Second Young Master of the Qi family.
At that time, Qi Ying already enjoyed great reputation among the noble families. Even the always arrogant Master Wang Qing, a Hanlin scholar who was extremely strict with the younger generation, praised him endlessly, telling everyone how solid Young Master Qi’s scholarship was and how beautiful his essays were. Han Feichi was unconvinced then, thinking he wasn’t so remarkable either, always harboring thoughts of competing with Second Young Master Qi.
His opportunity came in the sixth year of Qinghua, when fourteen-year-old Qi Ying took the spring examinations, placed second, and pioneered the literary governance of Jiangzuo.
The Qi family elders were all delighted. The then Left Minister Qi Zhang held a grand banquet at the Qi ancestral home, inviting guests from various noble families to visit. Han Feichi also went with his family elders and saw that renowned Second Young Master Qi again at the feast.
He watched him being surrounded and praised by everyone, feeling inevitably upset—he was also a famous little prodigy, so why was no one praising him today? Han Feichi felt indignant and publicly challenged him, asking Second Young Master Qi to compete with him in recitation, poetry, or literary criticism—he was willing to accept any challenge.
However, even with his sky-high ambitions, he was only a ten-year-old child then, not yet having reached his eleventh birthday. If Qi Ying competed with him in poetry or essays, he would surely lose miserably. Han Feichi’s brother Han Feiyu, fearing his younger brother would embarrass the family, kept trying to pull him aside. Unfortunately, his emotions had gotten the better of him—he wouldn’t listen to anyone and insisted Qi Ying compete with him.
As a result, Second Young Master Qi smiled and said very peacefully: “Very well, let’s compete in recitation then.”
Recitation was Han Feichi’s strong suit. Hearing Qi Ying agree to this competition, he felt extremely pleased, thinking he would surely defeat him and prove before everyone that he was the best, that he was the most extraordinary prodigy among the noble families.
He did indeed win later—he and Qi Ying both studied a section of Qin history, with one incense stick’s time as the limit. He put all his effort into preparation and finally recited a longer passage than Qi Ying, winning before everyone’s eyes.
He was very pleased, wanting to see Qi Ying’s dejection. Unexpectedly, Qi Ying smiled warmly and said: “I’ve long heard that Zhongheng has the ability to remember everything he reads. His future achievements will surely surpass mine.”
…He wasn’t angry at all, but instead sincerely praised him.
At that moment, the Qi family’s evening banquet was harmonious, everyone smiling pleasantly. Han Feichi had finally regained the praise he desired, yet somehow he felt no joy in his heart. Only later did he hear from his brother that Second Young Master Qi could recite the entire Qin history at age eight—that day he had actually let him win.
This was just a small matter, yet it left a deep impression on young Han Feichi’s heart.
Not because he was angry that he had actually lost, nor because he resented Qi Ying for not competing seriously with him… he just suddenly felt very childish, with eyes only for petty victories and defeats, never comparing to Second Young Master Qi’s broad-mindedness and magnanimity.
Han Feichi was a child who had to excel at everything, probably because he had been praised too highly since childhood and couldn’t bear to lose. So even this broad-mindedness and magnanimity, he wanted to compare with Qi Ying, resolving to be more open-minded than him, more generous than him, more indifferent to winning and losing than him.
He earnestly practiced for quite some time: for instance, previously in school he had to surpass everyone in everything. Whenever the teacher posed questions, he had to be the first to answer and better than others. Now he forced himself not to compete with others, yielding to his cousins and younger cousins to answer. Even when their responses seemed worthless to him, he wouldn’t mock them, only imitated Qi Ying’s manner, appearing gentle and magnanimous.
After such days passed, he indeed appeared more similar to Qi Ying. But beyond this, he developed another mindset: he suddenly felt… many struggles and efforts were meaningless.
He had once competed for clan attention, for teachers’ praise, even fighting for strangers’ notice. But since he began imitating Qi Ying, he realized these things were meaningless—so what if he was praised? So what if he was sought after? Competition was inherently childish behavior. People could live well without these things, and having these trifles actually made life more tiring.
He went from one extreme to another, gradually becoming dissolute and wayward, feeling nothing had meaning anymore.
However, after he committed to this indulgent philosophy, he discovered Qi Ying remained as diligent as before. He entered officialdom and became an official, beginning to immerse himself daily in documents, day after day, year after year.
From this time on, Han Feichi truly began to respect Qi Ying.
He was very intelligent and knew Qi Ying must have walked the same path as him—from being pursued and praised to not competing for anything. Only he had gone further than himself. He had seen through many meaningless things but didn’t fall into nihilism like himself. He still chose to bear many burdens and move forward.
Han Feichi knew this was a kind of sacrifice.
—Sacrificing himself to fulfill many other people and causes.
He finally began to admire him, while also feeling somewhat sorry for him, wondering why he couldn’t be like himself. Since he had already seen through everything, why not simply let go and live freely for a lifetime? Why draw a prison around himself?
He was completely convinced yet always puzzled. Later, he watched step by step as Qi Ying entered the Privy Council to guard the nation, and in the spring examinations opposed the majority to promote the humble-born. Only then did he increasingly understand this person—he was someone who was completely clear-sighted yet completely burdened.
Because of his clarity, he inevitably became detached; helplessly compassionate, he ultimately bore heavy burdens.
Extremely contradictory.
Han Feichi felt he could never be like Qi Ying in this lifetime. Between seeing through coldly and bearing burdens alone, he could only choose one, unable to manage both simultaneously, yet Qi Ying could. So Han Feichi surrendered, completely convinced.
From then on he always remained close to Qi Ying, treating him more intimately than his own brothers. He felt he was someone who truly understood him, calling him “Second Brother” from the heart every time, and Qi Ying also knew his thoughts, thus always treating him well. They became close friends.
Han Feichi originally planned to live his life in clear-minded dissipation. No matter how his family lectured him, he had no intention of “reforming”—until the first year of Jiahe, when the Qi family’s great mansion collapsed overnight.
He understood this all had deep roots—the Qi family was too outstanding, and Second Brother was too outstanding. The new emperor had long wanted to eliminate the noble families. Xiao Ziheng even harbored personal grudges against Second Brother. Both publicly and privately, he wanted the Qi family destroyed.
Han Feichi wanted to help him. He couldn’t bear to see someone who had sacrificed so much for the nation and even the world ultimately die unjustly. He couldn’t bear to see all of Second Brother’s careful planning turn to bubbles. He desperately wanted to lend him aid, but he held no official position and had no place in court. His father remained coldly detached toward the Qi family, while his uncle even gloated and wished to add insult to injury.
…Couldn’t they see that the Qi family’s destruction was only the beginning? Xiao Ziheng clearly wanted all noble families to perish together, consolidating imperial power. Ridiculously, his relatives relied on their family’s trivial blood connection with the emperor, hoping the Han family could escape disaster.
As if in a dream.
He felt powerless and had never regretted anything so much—why had he chosen indulgence and degradation back then? What if he hadn’t given up? What if he had chosen to enter the game like Second Brother despite seeing through it all? Would he now have the power to protect the people and causes he wanted to protect?
But it was all too late for regret. He still could do nothing then, only rushing to the Qi family to see Second Brother once, saying some inconsequential caring words while helplessly asking what he could do to help.
At that time, Second Brother had just returned to Jiankang from peace negotiations with Great Wei. He stood under the corridor of the Qi ancestral home, looking at him with complex expression under the dim lanterns, saying only one word.
“Wait.”
Han Feichi didn’t understand what this “wait” meant then. Only much later did he suddenly comprehend—Second Brother was waiting for changes in the noble families’ situation. He was waiting for the Qi family to decline and the Han family to rise, waiting for the emperor to turn his attention to the Han family. Only then could the Qi family seek a thread of survival from this narrow gap.
So Second Brother’s gaze was so complex then… because he was a Han family member, and Second Brother knew the Qi family’s survival meant the Han family’s doom. They were in a life-or-death relationship.
Han Feichi understood, yet he bore no grudge against Second Brother.
Because he knew that even without the Qi family factor between them, the emperor still couldn’t allow the Han family to grow powerful—Xiao Ziheng’s lust for power had become intensely twisted. He couldn’t tolerate any coercion or constraint. He wanted absolute power, wanted absolute authority, wanted everyone’s complete submission.
Many people couldn’t understand this point. For instance, his father Han Shousong always hoped for family peace, unable to see the emperor’s butcher’s knife about to fall. Instead, it was his usually foolish uncle Han Shouyue who first wanted to overturn this chess board.
…Uncle harbored treasonous intentions.
Actually, speaking fairly, Uncle’s approach seemed correct to him and was also forced by circumstances with no second choice—if the Han family didn’t rebel, Xiao Ziheng would seize the Han family’s military power. Could the Han family survive after that? Who could guarantee the Han family wouldn’t become the second Shen family, the second Qi family?
The Han family could only resist.
But Han Feichi didn’t believe his uncle could sit steadily on the imperial throne.
Great Liang had been established for over two hundred years. Before being forced to migrate south, it had once enjoyed unified glory. Later, even while occupying only a corner, the court never abandoned its ambition for reunification. The common people had attachment to such a regime. They harbored some illusory desires in their hearts, as if national reunification would satisfy their souls. Even if this court might be full of flaws, before reunification and revenge, these flaws could be temporarily endured.
This was the strange nature of public sentiment—they would rather accept Great Liang’s destruction by Great Wei’s iron hooves than see Great Liang replaced by a new regime beforehand.
Too many regimes had tried to end the declining old nation and establish themselves independently, and none had good endings. This was clear proof.
So even if Uncle succeeded in rebellion and ascended the throne, even if he successfully subdued the Fu family and other nobles, he was destined to sit unsteadily on the throne. This was determined by both history and public sentiment, not to mention Uncle fundamentally lacked imperial talent, and his cousin Han Feicong was even less a wise person capable of inheriting the throne.
If they truly sat in that position, they would be truly bringing calamity upon the family and nation.
—
Author’s Note: “Because of his clarity, he inevitably became detached; helplessly compassionate, he ultimately bore heavy burdens.” Perhaps this sentence captures Qi Ying’s character more accurately than the rumored “In appearance a gentleman, in heart an asura.” Young Master Han is also a rare confidant. PS: Thank you for all the comments and support. I’m so fortunate to meet such warm and lovely readers. Thank you, thank you.