Guo Man immediately wanted to go into battle. His deputy officers desperately tried to dissuade him, even using the young General Gu to pressure him, but Guo Man was desperate to achieve merit and wash away his shame—he could no longer listen to loyal counsel. He was originally one of the old Duke Yanguo’s right-hand men and had always regarded Gu Juhan as a junior. How could he truly submit to him from the heart? He immediately declared: “When the old Duke led troops, when did we ever fight such humiliating battles? Though the young general is divinely brave, he’s still just a child. In such perilous times, if we old generals don’t carve out some achievement, won’t people think Great Wei has no capable men?”

After speaking, he said no more and immediately opened the city gates to deploy troops.

On the twentieth day of the sixth month in the seventeenth year of Qinghua, Guo Man suffered a crushing defeat and was killed by the young Liang general Pei Jian. Xuchang fell into Liang forces’ hands, and the gateway to the Central Plains was open.

The next day, Gu Juhan, far away in Shangjing, received the news and felt deep anguish.

He had still miscalculated.

He was not unaware of how much resistance Great Liang’s Bureau of Military Affairs’ no-battle order had faced from Liang generals back then. That Qi Jingchen had even gone so far as to personally kill a Fourth Grade military officer in public to stabilize the situation. Now, relying on mere words, how could he have persuaded Guo Man?

…He had been too careless.

Now Great Wei faced enemies on all sides—truly a moment of life-or-death crisis. The court was also shaken, and the Wei Emperor issued an edict commanding the aged old Duke Yanguo to personally lead troops against the enemy.

This was extremely inspiring news for Great Wei’s officers and soldiers!

The old Duke had spent his entire life in military service, repeatedly achieving great merit for Great Wei and had long held the reputation of a war god. With him present, Heaven would surely bless Great Wei—there would be no more defeats!

Just at this time, there was double good news: Xu Zhengning, the executioner who was one of the twelve divisions of Great Liang’s Bureau of Military Affairs, had infiltrated north of the Yangtze to support rebels and had now been captured alive by young General Gu.

The tide of battle was about to change again.

The frontline battles raged like fire, with countless daily casualties resembling a living hell, yet the rear city of Jiankang still maintained a peaceful and harmonious atmosphere.

This was perhaps the last tranquil sanctuary left in the world, and Shen Xiling knew that this peace was being personally and diligently protected by that person.

She missed him morning and night, while also worrying for him morning and night.

Before he left Jiankang, at her request, he had repeatedly sworn oaths, promising her that he would definitely return safely and unharmed. Even until the very last moment when he left Fenghe Garden, as they embraced and kissed farewell, he was still whispering promises in her ear.

He was a man of his word. Shen Xiling trusted both his character and his abilities, but battlefields always held variables, and victory or defeat was difficult to predict. Even with his promise, she still lived in constant anxiety every day.

Fortunately, he would occasionally send her letters.

His letters were hastily written, clearly composed in whatever spare moments he could squeeze out of his busy schedule, and they were extremely brief. Even though correspondence was so difficult amid the flames of war, he didn’t know how to treasure such opportunities. Everything was concise—a few sentences about his safety, a couple of instructions to her, and nothing else besides.

Yet it was precisely these brief letters that became Shen Xiling’s only comfort during the more than half year he was away.

Every day a messenger brought a letter became a holiday for Shen Xiling. She would eagerly tear it open, confirm his handwriting, read through it with bated breath, and only after knowing he was unharmed would she exhale deeply, her entire person nearly collapsing from relief. After this heart-stopping first reading, she would repeatedly read the previous letter until the next one arrived, not stopping until every character was engraved in her heart.

She would also write letters to him.

Unlike him, her letters were often very long, sometimes reaching over ten pages. She actually didn’t know whether he had time to read these letters, or even whether they could reach his hands, but she still kept writing continuously. It seemed she was using this method to relieve the anxiety and tension in her heart, and as if only this way could she feel he was still beside her.

Speaking of it, Shen Xiling was actually a person of resilient character. Some people might avoid learning about something due to fear in their hearts, but she wouldn’t. Though she constantly worried about hearing bad news, she still continuously sought information about frontline developments through various methods.

It was also during this time that, pressed to desperation, she gradually discovered that wealth was also a form of power.

Previously she had only known how to use money to make money, but now she discovered money could be converted into other things—such as information. After Yang Dong’s death, the white cotton textile business in Jiankang had almost entirely fallen under her control. Throughout the Jianghuai region, she had dealings through this business. People in commercial circles had extensive connections and were most convenient for gathering intelligence. As long as money drove them, they could reliably deliver information to her.

She began learning to use wealth to exchange for what she wanted.

As information increased, her perspective became broader. She began to see the tension at the front lines, to see the difficulties of his situation, to see the tragic scenes of nine out of ten households empty in many places, to see the suffering of both court and common people—she had drawn closer to him.

No longer merely a girl in her boudoir, and no longer merely a profit-seeking merchant, she loved him too deeply and therefore began to see what he saw, began to think about the problems he thought about, began to pity the people he pitied.

She had changed again.

Though Jiangzuo was prosperous, more than half a year of warfare had also begun to exhaust the court, especially with Great Liang’s armies fighting far north of the Yangtze, making provisions and supplies even more time-consuming and laborious. Feeling the heavy pressure, the court had begun issuing calls for voluntary donations from merchants everywhere. However, in such chaotic times when everyone could barely take care of themselves, who had the energy to make voluntary donations? Naturally, they turned deaf ears to such appeals.

Yet Shen Xiling did it.

She had been in business for quite some years now, and especially the white cotton textile business was highly profitable. Over the accumulated years, she had considerable surplus—roughly calculated, it amounted to tens of thousands of taels. She took out more than half to make a voluntary donation. To prevent the silver from being embezzled layer by layer by corrupt officials en route, she steeled herself to write a letter to Yao Shi about this matter. Yao Shi had always taken good care of her, and upon hearing of her intentions, was deeply moved. She immediately had her eldest son Qi Yun handle this affair on her behalf, promising that this money would definitely be put to good use, and said she would report her righteous deed to the court.

Shen Xiling declined this recognition, only donating money without seeking fame. This wasn’t for any other reason—she simply wasn’t greedy for reputation by nature, and spreading word everywhere would be meaningless. Moreover, after Qi Ying returned, they would leave together, and she didn’t want to make too much commotion and invite unnecessary trouble.

She only wanted to stand together with that person. Even though she actually couldn’t share much of his burden, at the very least, she wanted to contribute her modest efforts to the mountains and rivers he was striving to protect.

Besides letters and donations, what most comforted Shen Xiling’s heart was praying to gods and Buddha.

She had originally believed in gods and Buddha, and now believed even more. Of course, this wasn’t because she had any enlightenment, but merely due to the greed and delusion of worldly people. Since she couldn’t control his fortune or misfortune, she could only beseech gods and Buddha to pray for his safety.

The place she most often visited for worship was still Qixia Temple.

Time flew swiftly. When the north and south began fighting it was still April, and now it had already turned to October. A year ago at this time was precisely when she first came to Qixia Mountain to enter Qixia Temple, and back then she had come together with Qi Ying. Who would have thought that in the blink of an eye, a hurried year had passed.

A year ago in the Great Buddha Pavilion, she had made three wishes: praying for her parents’ smooth passage into the afterlife, praying that he and his relatives would all be well, and praying that she could be together with him.

Aside from her parents’ afterlife matters, which she had no way of knowing about, the other two conditions seemed to have been fulfilled so far. She was very grateful and felt she had karmic connection with this Buddhist temple, so she often came here.

Though Qixia Temple couldn’t compare to the bustle of Jiming and Dingshan temples, it already had quite a few worshippers—far from the lonely, deserted scene when she had come here a year ago. She wore a veil and brought Shuipei and Fengshang with her into the temple. Since she often came here and had donated considerable merit money, she was quite familiar with the monks in the temple. Upon seeing her arrival, the monks all greeted her warmly, everyone getting along harmoniously.

When she entered the Great Buddha Pavilion, the hall happened to be empty, so she removed her veil and paid respects before the Buddha to show her reverence to Buddha.

She had no other wishes—only hoping that person would be safe, safe, safe.

She knelt before the Buddha for a long time, praying repeatedly, only rising to leave when dusk approached.

But she didn’t know that even before her arrival, there had been another worshipper in this Buddha pavilion, who had been worshipping Maitreya Buddha in the rear hall and, when circling back to the front hall, had discovered her and temporarily refrained from coming forward.

That person was none other than someone who also had prior connection with Shen Xiling and could be considered her legitimate mother—Fu Zhen.

Though this lady had followed family members in worshipping Buddha when young, she actually didn’t believe in her heart. Only later, after many changes in her life’s circumstances, did she gradually begin to believe, especially after losing a pair of children, when she became even more devout. More than half a year ago, her lover Shen Cheng had also died, still due to an unexpected calamity, which made her feel even more deeply the impermanence of human life, and her Buddhist devotion became increasingly sincere. Due to her sensitive status, it wasn’t appropriate for her to join the crowds at Jiming and Dingshan temples, so she had to avoid people, wrapping herself tightly from head to toe, and come to this Qixia Temple to worship Buddha and bodhisattvas.

Who would have expected to encounter Shen Xiling!

After Shen Cheng’s death, Fu Zhen’s heart actually felt both pain and relief, always feeling that her lifelong karmic entanglement with the Shen family had finally come to an end. Yet upon seeing Shen Xiling, past events suddenly came rolling back, making her abruptly remember those times she had tried so hard to forget.

The first time she saw this little girl… must have been nearly ten years ago.

If it had been anyone else, after ten years she certainly wouldn’t have recognized them, but Shen Xiling’s red mole between her eyebrows was too memorable, and she resembled her mother too closely—this allowed Fu Zhen to recognize her at first glance.

For as long as Shen Xiling knelt before the Buddha, Fu Zhen stood that long in the shadows of the rear hall. She kept watching Shen Xiling, the desolate feeling in her heart spreading layer by layer, truly like past and present lives.

Even after Shen Xiling left, she still hadn’t snapped out of it.

It was a servant beside her named Deng Wu who brought her back to her senses.

Speaking of this Deng Wu, he wasn’t a stranger either. More than half a year ago, when Shen Xiling had invited Yang Dong to meet at Yilou, Yang Dong had shown great arrogance and refused to see her. The servant who had impersonated Yang Dong to meet with Shen Xiling at that time was Deng Wu. After Yang Dong’s death, Deng Wu had nowhere to go and came begging to Fu Zhen. Fu Zhen had originally wanted to arrange for him to work under people managing other Fu family businesses, but because Yang Dong had offended the Qi family’s minister, even his former old servants were shunned by association. Everyone was afraid of having any connection with Yang Dong that might incur Young Master Qi’s displeasure, so they naturally all shook their heads in refusal.

Fu Zhen had no choice but to keep Deng Wu by her side as a servant, giving him a place to shelter.

This Deng Wu had seen Shen Xiling before and knew that his former master had died because of her. Naturally, evil thoughts arose from his courage. After Shen Xiling left, he couldn’t help but mutter in a low voice, “Enemies on a narrow road.” Fu Zhen found this very strange, not knowing what private grudge Deng Wu had with her deceased husband’s illegitimate daughter. Upon inquiry, she uncovered the truth.

…This little bastard was actually the Fang Jun who had caused Shen Cheng’s death!

Author’s Notes:

“In the flames of war that last for months, family letters are worth ten thousand pieces of gold.”