The back room of the Wanshi Shop had a small courtyard. When Lang Jiuchuan first set the place up, she had already designated one of the side rooms for receiving guests.

The side room had been freshly renovated, coated in tung oil, and swept clean. Zhuang Quanhai had even found somewhere a sprig of winter plum, which he had placed in a round-bellied ceramic jar — lending the room a certain rustic charm and filling it with the cold, clean fragrance of plum blossoms.

Lang Jiuchuan led the general into the side room. She could see that beneath his battle armor, the aura of bloodshed and killing intent was impossible to conceal — yet he also carried the weight of accumulated merit, making it clear that he bore within him a formidable and righteous spirit.

For a general, protecting home and country meant killing many — it was only natural that such a man would carry an aura of deadly force. But to fight and wage war in defense of the nation and its people, shielding countless innocent lives — it followed just as naturally that his accumulated merit would be deep.

Since he was a ghost patron, he could not be received as an ordinary visitor.

Fortunately, she had come prepared today. Lang Jiuchuan asked Jian Lan to go find Zhuang Quanhai and fetch an incense holder, then she herself took out a stick of soul incense, lit it, and offered it to the general before asking: “May I ask the general’s honored name?”

The general standing before her was imposing in build, appearing to be in his mid-thirties. Yet his features were those of a refined scholar — strikingly handsome, the sort of elegant and noble face that the storytellers in their tales would call a jade-faced gentleman. Well — now one would have to call him a jade-faced general.

She looked again at his armor. The style was old and outdated, and it was not from the current dynasty. She had seen the current dynasty’s armor before — in the Lang Family’s ancestral hall, in the portrait of the man whose body she now inhabited, her adoptive father was painted wearing a set of armor.

“I am surnamed Fu, given name Qi, a man of Fengdu.” Fu Qi inhaled the soul incense, his brows and eyes relaxing with ease — a sense of fullness came over him at once, as though it had been an eternity since he had last felt satisfied. He pointed at the incense: “This incense is truly remarkable.”

Lang Jiuchuan’s brow furrowed. A man of Fengdu — she knew of it. Fengdu had been the capital of the former dynasty, the Liang Kingdom. Fifty years after Da Dan had conquered and destroyed it, a great earthquake had necessitated a temporary relocation of the capital; after reconstruction was complete, the court had returned and renamed it Wu Jing.

The current capital, in other words.

So this General Fu Qi had been a ghost for over two hundred years?

Dead so long, and he had never passed on to reincarnation?

Lang Jiuchuan asked again: “General Fu, where have you come from? Do you know what era this is and what has transpired?”

Fu Qi was startled for a moment, then let out a long, quiet sigh: “I came out from the battlefield, and found myself here.”

Lang Jiuchuan was somewhat bewildered: “You are saying that you came out from the battlefield, and found yourself at my shop’s front door?”

Fu Qi nodded and said: “I led my three thousand Fu Family soldiers in bitter fighting against the barbarian Kangju forces at Fenghuo Pass for over a month. Our grain and provisions were cut off, and the reinforcements we awaited never came. I awoke on a snowy Lantern Festival night, and found myself here.”

Lang Jiuchuan was silent for a long moment, then said: “General, the Liang Kingdom has fallen.”

She had braced herself for Fu Qi to erupt in fury, for his killing aura to surge to the heavens — but to her surprise, he showed not the slightest reaction. His expression held a trace of reminiscence, but more than anything, it was the look of a man whose long-held suspicion had finally been confirmed, as though the dust had at last settled.

As expected, Fu Qi said: “When I led the expedition against the Kangju, Liang was already beset by troubles within and without. The court was rotten, the people suffering without end. Our lord at the time was old and frail, the heir too young, and the feudal kings across the land were each ruling their own domains. The barbarians had long since viewed Liang as a prize within their grasp, and year after year they plundered our territory. When I went off to war, I had already made peace with the fact that I might never return. I simply did not expect that so many years would pass, and that everything would have already changed beyond recognition.”

Lang Jiuchuan pursed her lips slightly and softly recited a line: “Waking, I no longer see the faces of my family — as though it were only the moment I parted from them in the dynasty before.” ①

“Child, is the land at peace now? Is it people of our Central Plains who hold it?” Fu Qi smiled gently as he asked.

Lang Jiuchuan’s heart ached. She slid the soul incense forward a little: “As you would have wished.”

The former dynasty had indeed fallen, and Da Dan had taken its place — but Da Dan was the ruler of the realm, and all this land still belonged to Central Plains people, sustained by them and for them.

Fu Qi’s smile grew warmer still: “That is well. I had guessed as much, in truth. That manager of yours in the shop, and the passersby I observed — the clothing they wear differs from what I knew of Liang, yet it is still the silk and brocade of the Central Plains that I am familiar with, and the proprieties observed are still those of the Central Plains. The common folk, though slightly apprehensive, do not wear the look of people in misery — which tells me the current ruler has won the hearts of the people. I wonder which feudal king won the world for himself?”

Lang Jiuchuan paused a moment, then said: “The current ruler’s imperial surname is Tantai. They are of Xuan Clan origin, and the founding ancestor was Tantai Rui.”

Fu Qi showed the first genuine surprise since their meeting — he repeated the name Tantai and said: “I had never heard of any such righteous army. This Xuan Clan you mention — might they be Daoists?”

Lang Jiuchuan gave a calm, expressionless nod.

“Outrageous.” Fu Qi slapped the table suddenly: “Can it be that at that time, corrupt Daoist practitioners ran rampant, entering the country and becoming its father figures, and ultimately betrayed their masters to seize the throne?”

Rare anger had risen on his face. His imposing aura, combined with his powerfully built frame, made him a chilling sight — even with that handsome face of his, the deadly force that surrounded him was enough to make one’s blood run cold.

Of course, that person was not Lang Jiuchuan.

Lang Jiuchuan had no strong feelings toward the Xuan Clan, but she would not falsely slander them either. She shook her head: “You’ve misunderstood, General. The Tantai are the imperial family. They obtained the throne through entirely legitimate means — through military strength, and through the will of the people.”

She had read the historical records. Though history is written by those who succeed, the records concerning the Tantai clan described a line that had risen under a banner of justice in response to the will of the people during a time of chaos — they had truly descended the mountains in turmoil to save the common people, though not without the support of several other powerful clans.

But regardless, the Tantai clan had obtained the imperial throne through legitimate means at the time.

Lang Jiuchuan gave a brief account of what the historical records stated, then added: “Da Dan has now existed for nearly two hundred years, and the throne has passed to five or six successive rulers.”

“Two hundred years — then this Tantai clan has truly won the hearts of the people, and governed well.” Fu Qi’s killing aura began to subside.

The longer a nation endures, the more it proves that its master knows how to govern, and that those who inherit the throne have been carefully chosen. Otherwise, let a foolish emperor take the seat, and see how long the nation lasts — the throne would long since have been seized.

For the Tantai to hold the imperial seat for two hundred years without being overthrown meant the people had not endured too many wars and could live in peace and security, enjoying their days under a stable rule.

Very good.

Fu Qi was indifferent to who sat on the throne. Even if the Liang Kingdom had fallen — so long as it was Central Plains people who ruled the land of Central Plains, that was enough. As long as the ruler commanded effectively, showed respect for the worthy, and could keep the people fed, that was all he required.

“Even so, Xuan Clan members sitting on the throne — that is something I have never heard of before. Would they not be going against the very Way they hold in their hearts?” Fu Qi was somewhat curious.

Lang Jiuchuan gave a wry smile: “I am not one of the rulers, so I don’t know what Way guides them. I only know that the Xuan Clan’s reputation is, at present, a matter of both praise and criticism.”

“Oh?”

“General, you will come to understand in due time.” Lang Jiuchuan said: “It has been nearly two hundred years since the Liang Kingdom fell and Da Dan was established. General… you have been dead for many years, yet you have never passed on to reincarnation, and the moment you opened your eyes, you found yourself here. How did this come about? Is there some unfulfilled wish that binds you?”

A flicker of confusion crossed Fu Qi’s face, and his spirit suddenly became hazy and indistinct: “The war drums are sounding. The barbarians are launching their final assault. The Fu Family soldiers — we must take the field.”

① From Dream of Returning Home by Gao Qi of the Ming Dynasty.