Within Great Chu there were several great families, and the people said: even as the times grew turbulent and unstable, these great families managed to remain untouched by the turbulence.

Of course nothing was ever set in stone. Consider the Yuwen family — was that not a glorious dream that, once ended, left nothing behind?

And what family could match the Yuwen family’s former standing?

The established families of Jizhou City, set beside those great families in the Dachu capital who could command the winds and call down the rains, were truly several steps below.

People who had lived for generations at the heart of power looked down on the northerners without reservation.

Truth be told, even a great family like the Lai family had been beneath the notice of the Yuwen family in former times. To say nothing of Anyang’s Lai Yihu — even Lai Yong’er himself had been regarded by the Yuwen family as an uncultured man from the back country.

Lai Yong’er was now fifty years old. He was perhaps the only man in the current court of Great Chu who had forced his way into the ranks of the first-tier families entirely through his own efforts.

In his youth, Lai Yong’er had been the cowherd boy of a prosperous household. By a twist of fate, he once showed the way to the man who would later become the previous emperor, when that man was still a prince.

The previous emperor noted his quick wit and asked about his background, learning that he was a bound laborer in a wealthy man’s household.

So the prince took him along as a personal attendant. The boy’s original name was rather crude — Lai Mingying, meaning “hard fate.” At the time, he had no idea of the prince’s identity; he only sensed this was a man of wealth and standing, and that following him would not leave him wanting.

This was the first choice he ever made for his own life, and the goal was to eat his fill every day, with the occasional taste of meat.

So he knelt down and said: take me with you, my lord, and I will honor you as devotedly as a son for the rest of my life.

These were the most humble, most earnest words a cowherd boy could produce.

The previous emperor, encountering for the first time such a delightfully peculiar village child, laughed and said: very well, you shall be called Yong’er from now on.

Lai Yong’er followed the previous emperor without having ever studied a day, yet his natural quickness carried him further than most scholars.

The previous emperor had once said: few men are more intelligent than Lai Yong’er.

A single glance from the previous emperor was enough — he could read exactly what the emperor was thinking.

When he knelt down and said he would honor him as a son, he was eight years old and the prince was fifteen.

Quite by chance, too — had it been any ordinary prince, the boy would likely have been beaten, for such words bordered on an affront to the imperial family.

But it happened to be the previous emperor, a man of that particular disposition, who simply found it amusing.

When Lai Yong’er was sixteen, the previous emperor ascended to the throne.

This man of entirely unconventional origins, seemingly on a thoughtless remark from the emperor — that his second brother seemed rather displeased — dared, in the dead of night, to slip into the second prince’s household, poison the food, and kill over twenty people in one stroke, including the second prince’s child who had not yet reached his first year.

The previous emperor, upon learning of it, laughed heartily: worthy indeed of my Yong’er.

To prevent the matter from being traced, the emperor sent him away to serve as a captain in the army.

By twenty-four, he was Prefect of Suzhou. Of the empire’s thirteen prefectures, Suzhou was the wealthiest.

Six years as Prefect of Suzhou. At thirty, the previous emperor recalled him to the capital to serve as Deputy Minister of War.

Five years in that office, he was sent back to Suzhou — only this time, he returned as Military Governor.

The previous emperor died; the new emperor took the throne. Lai Yong’er anticipated he might fall from favor. A lesser man would have gone into hiding.

Not him. He was clever — astonishingly so even as a child, and at this age, beyond mere cleverness into something closer to astute cunning.

He brought his entire household back to the capital, knelt outside the palace gates and pleaded guilty, surrendering all his official posts and expressing his willingness to spend the rest of his days in the capital.

Yang Jing happened to need exactly such a man — as a model of propriety before the other ministers.

So not only was his wish to retire in the capital denied, he was appointed Supreme Commander of the Imperial Guards, concurrently holding the position of Minister of War, and granted the title Lord of Illustrious Praise.

These posts had formerly been held by Yuwen Chonghe.

In this moment, Lai Yong’er reached the pinnacle of power in his life — at fifty years of age, at the height of his influence.

He then advised the emperor: Anyang was a place of critical strategic importance and required a man of unwavering loyalty to keep watch.

And so his nephew, Lai Yihu, was dispatched to Anyang.

As the highest-ranking of the three great generals within the Anyang Army, Ding Shengjia had never in his wildest imagining expected to be brought low by this Lai Yihu.

That incident had been carried out on Meng Kedi’s orders. Now Lai Yihu had seized on it and was trying to use it to destroy him entirely.

Ding Shengjia knew: what they called three months of special leave was likely his death sentence.

Meng Kedi needed a scapegoat. Lai Yihu needed him crushed underfoot.

“Resting at home” — stripped of his military authority, he had become a man that anyone could kick.

Lai Yihu would never give him a chance to rise again. Within those three months, Lai Yihu would find every means available to be rid of him.

Sitting in his study, Ding Shengjia instinctively looked up at the ceiling beam, and for a moment felt a powerful urge: perhaps it would simply be better to hang himself from it and have done.

Just then, a servant came to report: General Lai had heard he was ill and sent over gifts — though the man delivering them had not come inside, only left the box at the door and departed.

Ding Shengjia frowned, about to order the things thrown out. Then he thought: let me at least see what that man Lai Yihu is playing at. So he had the box brought in.

The servant opened the box, and his face changed color.

Inside was a pair of women’s undergarments.

In the box was also a slip of paper with a single line written on it: *Wear upon the head — cures all ailments. Kneel beneath the crotch — learn when to bow.*

“Outrage!”

Ding Shengjia’s palm came down on the desk with a crack, shattering it.

“Bring me my weapons!”

Ding Shengjia bellowed: “Have the household soldiers arm themselves and follow me — I’ll kill that whelp where he stands!”

“My lord, please calm yourself.”

His household steward, Old Liu, immediately moved to block him.

“My lord, if you take men to his door now in this state, he will use it as the pretext to kill you. You would be walking into his trap.”

“With his abilities,” Ding Shengjia roared, “could he truly kill me?!”

Old Liu said: “My lord — he sent you this today precisely because he has already made preparations. If you arrive with men, he will have archers in ambush. One moment of fury and you would lose your life, and those who want you dead would get exactly what they want.”

“Beyond that, he would claim you took armed men to storm his residence — and you would carry that infamy on top of everything else.”

Hearing this, Ding Shengjia let out a long, heavy breath. “I have never suffered such humiliation.”

“My lord,” Old Liu said, “perhaps think instead of how to get out.”

Ding Shengjia shook his head. “Get out? Where would I go? Within Yuzhou there is no place left for me.”

He slumped down, hands trembling.

“In truth… it isn’t Lai Yihu who wants me dead. It’s Meng Kedi who can no longer afford to let me live.”

Ding Shengjia sighed. “If he wants me dead, there is no path out for me.”

He said no more, just fell backward onto the cold floor, lying spread-eagled.

Still alive, yet already past caring.

“If I had known it would come to this,” he muttered to himself, “I might as well have drowned with my comrades in the Dading River back in Jizhou…”

Steward Old Liu’s eyes suddenly brightened.

Old Liu knelt beside Ding Shengjia and said: “My lord — what of Jizhou?”

“What?!”

Ding Shengjia jolted upright, staring at Old Liu, his eyes full of confusion.

Old Liu said: “When that young Master Li was in Anyang, my lord — it was you he was closest to.”

Ding Shengjia shook his head vigorously. “It was he who ruined me. And now I should go begging to him?!”

Old Liu counseled: “One cannot say that Master Li ruined you, my lord. He is the lord of Jizhou — naturally he schemes for Jizhou’s sake. You were under Meng Kedi’s command — naturally you schemed for Anyang’s. Now that the general treats you thus, if you go to Master Li and say a word, and he recalls the favor you showed him…”

“No, no, absolutely not!”

Ding Shengjia shook his head again and again. “What a disgrace that would be. I would rather die of injustice here in Anyang than go and serve under him.”

He turned away from Old Liu and said nothing more.

But Old Liu could read his lord’s thoughts clearly enough, and so he simply smiled and said: “Of course, of course. This all needs more careful consideration.”

Then Old Liu rose, bowed deeply before Ding Shengjia, and said: “I beg my lord’s leave for a time — this old servant has a relative in Jizhou. With the New Year approaching, this old servant must go and pay his respects.”

Ding Shengjia waved a hand. “Go then. Take whatever silver you need from the account, be careful on the road, and come back quickly. At your age, still going off to visit relatives.”

“Yes, yes, yes…”

Old Liu bowed again. “This old servant will be back before long.”

And with that, he turned and was gone.

A moment after he had gone, Ding Shengjia looked back at the doorway, then let out a long breath.

He fell backward again — spread-eagled on the cold floor.

He lay there for a brief moment, then sprang up like a carp flipping itself over, clasped his hands behind his back, and walked toward the study.

At the same moment, inside Lai Yihu’s residence.

He had waited half the day with no sign of an enraged Ding Shengjia storming over, and Lai Yihu was feeling somewhat put out.

He waved a hand. “Dismiss everyone — I had hoped to test what those jianghu people are made of, but who would have thought Ding Shengjia would be such a coward.”

He settled into his chair and reached for his tea.

A subordinate laughed: “Ding Shengjia must be frightened. Only thing left for him is to sit at home and play the tortoise.”

Lai Yihu laughed. “If he truly is frightened, at least that makes him sensible — knowing he’s finished.”

He crossed one leg over the other and let it bounce idly.

“My great-uncle sent me to Anyang to watch Meng Kedi on His Majesty’s behalf. In my judgment, Meng Kedi is no different from the former Yuzhou Military Governor Liu Li.”

He sipped his tea. “Meng Kedi also nurses ambitions of holding his own domain — using Anyang as his base, he could strike north at Jizhou or south at Yuzhou. Such a strategic chokepoint in the hands of a man like this — His Majesty cannot rest easy.”

A subordinate said: “General, Meng Kedi is already nearly finished. Xue Chunbao dead, Ding Shengjia soon to follow — he’s alienated all the men around him. He won’t last long.”

Lai Yihu laughed. “You’re right. I want him to lose his men’s hearts — it’s the only way to replace him. First find a way to be rid of Ding Shengjia. Then kill Meng Kedi. Put this vital ground in my hands — I’ll hold it for His Majesty, and he can rest easy.”

He rose and stretched, then said: “These jianghu people who’ve gathered here — who among them has real ability?”

A subordinate replied: “Tiezhen Gate from Seven Treasure Mountain sent over a hundred men. All trained in hard-body techniques — they say blade and spear cannot pierce them. Their gate master is called Wan Fudi. Some of his men under him are genuinely formidable.”

“Then there’s Ruyi Gate — around thirty people, their gate master is Yao Tangshan. Some ability there as well.”

“But they are established jianghu sects, so they don’t go in for methods that don’t bear the light of day.”

The subordinate lowered his voice. “There’s another group I’ve held back — I didn’t bring them before Meng Kedi.”

Lai Yihu looked up with curiosity. “What people?”

“A group of men from beyond the northern frontier, come to the Central Plains looking for work. They’re different from those sect types — they are men who truly know how to kill.”

Lai Yihu sat forward. “From beyond the frontier? Bring them in, let me see them.”

The subordinate shouted out: “Bring in the men from beyond the frontier.”

He turned back to Lai Yihu: “Those people… in broad daylight, every one of them gives off a cold, eerie air — like ghosts.”