Pei Song waved his hand to signal all the personal guards in the study to withdraw. Zhou Sui was also helped away by the head guard.
Only then did the Chief Administrator ask: “Why does my lord spare that woman’s life?”
Pei Song said: “It’s a private matter.”
He raised his eyes to look at the dark sky outside the window: “All the clues we’ve investigated have conveniently been cut off. Sir, there’s a hand in the shadows stirring up the winds and clouds of Yongzhou and even all of south of the Wei River!”
Thinking of the current predicament, the Chief Administrator’s expression darkened: “If this truly is the work of the Wen clan woman, her strategic planning abilities may surpass even those of her father and brother. In the future, she will surely become a great threat.”
Pei Song’s voice was coldly quiet: “Send additional personnel to search for traces of Hanyang. Also assign someone to watch Zhou Sui.”
The Chief Administrator said: “The most pressing matter now is still the battle situation at Dingzhou. Although Yongzhou has surrendered to my lord, Hengzhou has also surrendered to Wei Qishan. The Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun are as solid as metal. Yet in the Great Liang heartland, rebels rising up in revolt are still as numerous as cattle. The situation… is unfavorable to my lord.”
Pei Song gave a scornful laugh, his eyes full of wild arrogance: “This realm has always belonged to the capable. Whoever holds the mighty army holds the situation and initiative in their hands.”
“Wei Qishan wants to use Dingzhou to dampen my spirit? Then let him have a good look at whether his Northern Iron Cavalry can suppress this army of wolves and tigers in my hands!”
His long finger landed on Mengzhou on the map, cold killing intent filling his frosty black eyes: “Tomorrow I will personally lead troops to Mengzhou. I’ll trouble you, sir, to remain in command of Yongzhou and continue investigating the murderer who killed Xing Lie. Once Mengzhou falls, we’ll have military supplies.”
Mengzhou and Xiangzhou were the two toughest bones south of the Wei River. Once Mengzhou was eliminated, Xiangzhou would be in danger itself, and others who still wanted to raise their own flags and play local emperor would have to think twice.
The chaotic Great Liang heartland would eventually be forged into a single iron plate under the crushing weight of his hundreds of thousands of troops.
The candlelight was dim and yellow. In a cup of cold tea on the desk, the reflection showed a young face—fierce, cold, and treacherous.
The Chief Administrator sighed softly: “My lord’s ambition can swallow mountains and rivers, but… those who command armies must avoid excessive killing. My lord forcibly breaks through Mengzhou to intimidate the remaining powers large and small that have not yet surrendered. After the city falls, you must also show benevolence to win the people’s hearts. Therefore, for military supplies needed, settle accounts with wealthy merchants and tycoons—do not plunder ordinary commoners too severely and invite universal condemnation.”
Because Pei Song was forced into a difficult position by whoever was orchestrating things behind the scenes, hidden anger still lingered in his heart. He said: “The people’s hearts? In chaotic times when heroes compete, how many truly fight for the people’s livelihood? They’re all just finding high-sounding reasons for their own ambitions.”
“From Yongzhou offering surrender—where I had to endure Zhou Jing’an’s suicide as an act of loyalty to the former Liang for the greater good—to the inflated prices of rice grain and medicinal materials south of the Wei River making military supplies difficult to requisition, I’ve been pondering one question: Are the people’s hearts truly that important?”
A moth flew into the lamp shade, fluttering and crashing about inside the gauze cover but unable to find a way out.
Pei Song watched the moth, his expression indifferent: “The myriad people of this realm have long been trained by emperors of successive dynasties into a herd of livestock. As long as the blade doesn’t fall on them personally, they remain as numb as ever and meekly submissive. Even when the knife does fall, they’re still at others’ mercy. No one competing for territory to raise livestock cares what the livestock originally kept there think. And livestock won’t refuse to recognize a new master just because they remember the previous master’s kindness, will they?”
“Sir, why should I bind my hands and feet because of such a group of foolish people who obey whoever holds power?”
The moth ultimately couldn’t fly out of the lamp shade. After crashing against the dimly glowing gauze countless times, it fell onto the lamp stand’s base.
The Chief Administrator was so shocked by these words that he was speechless for a long while. After a long time, he said somewhat at a loss: “My lord… why speak such shocking words?”
Pei Song looked toward the boundless dark night outside the window, a hint of resentful mockery appearing on his exceptionally handsome face: “Because the myriad people of this realm… are dull and ignorant, greedy and cowardly. Did ancient Qin sweep across the six kingdoms relying on the people’s hearts? It was those hundreds of thousands of mighty troops!”
The Chief Administrator said: “But Qin only lasted two generations…”
Pei Song turned back to look at the Chief Administrator: “No, it was because Qin didn’t have another emperor capable of keeping the court and territories in check. Unifying and governing the realm may require benevolence, but competing for this realm—it must be: those who submit to me prosper, those who oppose me perish!”
—
The long wind blew across the wilderness, withered grass fell prostrate, cold crows cried mournfully.
Wen Yu held a handful of earth in her hands and silently scattered it on the newly raised grave mound.
The head guard brought over horses, saying: “Noble Mistress, the pursuing soldiers are close behind. We need to continue our journey.”
Wen Yu stood up and looked back at the undulating mountains in the night. The night wind blew her wide cloak as she said slowly: “More and more pursuers keep coming. Whether government offices or mountain bandits, they’re all surrounding us. My whereabouts must have been exposed. Going further south, who knows how many more people will have to die…”
When they left Tongcheng, they still had over twenty people. Now fewer than ten remained.
The head guard said: “Even if only one of us remains, we will do our utmost to escort the Princess safely to Pingzhou.”
Wen Yu lowered her eyes, her slender fingers brushing over the tombstone made of freshly cut wood, her voice gentle yet firm: “I will not let any righteous hero die in vain. In this age of great conflict, the strong prey on the weak. Everyone wants to be the knife and chopping board—who would willingly be the fish and meat?”
All along this journey, she had witnessed with her own eyes countless commoners displaced by war. The Great Liang dynasty had already collapsed. Government offices and bandits large and small were all proclaiming themselves kings and emperors, scraping layer after layer of the people’s fat and blood from their heads.
All wanting to be local emperors above ten thousand people—who cared about the life and death of the common people?
Wen Yu felt guilt toward the people in her heart.
—It was they, the Wen clan, who had received the support of the myriad people yet failed to protect their own subjects.
The head guard said: “The master used death to make his will clear, hoping that the Noble Mistress would restore the realm.”
Wen Yu closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her gaze had returned to calm, yet a flame burned behind that silence like a prairie fire. She mounted her horse and looked toward the path ahead shrouded in deep twilight: “Let’s go.”
No matter what Pei Song’s true identity was, it was no reason for him to throw the realm into chaos. She would ensure this traitor faced justice!
The fine horse galloped away, the wooden carp pendant at Wen Yu’s waist swinging in a leaping arc.
—
In a dense forest outside Yongzhou City, hoarfrost had condensed into a vast expanse of white.
Xiao Li thrust his long blade into the snow-covered ground, carrying a tightly wrapped bundle in black cloth as he knelt before a grave mound also covered in thin snow.
“Mother, your son has avenged you.”
He placed Xing Lie’s severed head before Xiao Huiniang’s memorial tomb. After kowtowing three times to the grave mound, he removed the copper flask from his waist, unscrewed the stopper, and poured all the tung oil inside onto the black cloth-wrapped head, then took out a fire starter and lit it.
Orange-red flames tinged with blue quickly consumed what the black cloth wrapped.
The cold moon was desolate, casting his shadow to appear especially forlorn.
By the firelight, Xiao Li burned some paper money, saying: “Your son must leave Yongzhou City for a time. Brother Song Qin and Zheng Hu have opened an escort agency with brothers from the old gambling den. Several sworn mothers have them looking after them—please rest assured.”
When the paper money finished burning, he seemed not to know what more to say. Letting the fine snow fall upon his shoulders, he silently watched the fire burn out. The wind howling through the mountain forest sounded like mournful weeping.
—
Zhou household.
When Pei Song entered the side chamber carrying the cold air of the snowy night, all the servants attending inside bowed to him.
These were people Pei Song had brought to serve at his side, not Zhou household servants.
He asked in a deep voice: “How is that woman?”
A maid answered: “Though the person has awakened, her consciousness is still not very clear. She keeps murmuring something about ‘Huan’er’—it seems like a person’s name.”
Pei Song raised his hand to signal the maid to withdraw.
Lamps and candles burned in all four corners of the room, brightly illuminating it. Pei Song stood beside the bed looking down at the severely injured, frail woman, asking from his position of superiority: “Do you recognize me?”
Xiao Huiniang’s eyes were not very clear, only instinctively murmuring: “Huan’er… mother’s Huan’er…”
Pei Song’s gaze suddenly turned icy cold. He drew his blade and pointed it directly at Xiao Huiniang’s throat, demanding coldly: “Who sent you?”
Xiao Huiniang seemed not to notice the cold blade edge just a hair’s breadth from her neck. Her mouth still only weakly called: “Huan’er…”
Pei Song stared at her coldly for a long while before finally withdrawing his blade and striding out the door.
That year, when mother died of illness during exile, in her final moments she too had been delirious, calling out “Huan’er” over and over.
Who exactly… was this woman?
Was she someone who knew his background, or was it… just a coincidence?
Pei Song walked to the courtyard. The servants waiting outside the room bowed to him again.
He looked back at the side chamber once, saying coldly: “Tell the military physician that before I return from conquering Mengzhou, he must ensure this woman remains alive.”
—
Three days later, at a teahouse along the official road.
A merchant caravan of over ten people surged into the teahouse, shouting: “Server, two pots of good tea and ten catties of mutton!”
“Coming right up! Honorable guests, please wait!” The teahouse server cheerfully responded, bustling about without his feet touching the ground.
The group found empty tables and sat down, cursing: “That Hezhong Military Commissioner who proclaimed himself emperor in Mengzhou—he boasted about how capable he was, but when Pei Song brought thirty thousand troops to the border and attacked, the city fell in less than a day! Good thing we ran fast, otherwise we might have lost our lives along with the merchants in the city! These days, traveling north and south with our heads tucked in our belts to earn a few hard-earned coins—it’s not easy!”
A young man sitting diagonally across from them, wearing a conical hat, drank a cup of clear tea and quietly listened.
Someone from the merchant caravan tossed fried salted soybeans into their mouth and continued: “If you ask me, this realm will probably end up in Pei Song’s hands. Once Mengzhou, this hard nut, is cracked, the remaining Xiangzhou is no longer a threat. In military strategy, what’s this called—first secure the interior, then drive out the external threats!”
Someone nearby said: “Not necessarily. Didn’t they say there’s news of the former Liang’s Princess Hanyang in the south? Those mountain kings all want to get a bite of this swan meat, using the former Liang’s influence to have a legitimate reason to raise rebellion!”
The person who spoke earlier shook his head: “Those bandits are just a rabble. How could they compete with Pei Song’s hundreds of thousands of troops? But that Princess Hanyang—portraits of her have been posted at the gates of prefectures and cities everywhere. She truly looks like an immortal fairy. Who knows which hero will end up with her.”
A companion laughed: “Even Prince Changlian’s heir consort, a mere woman, was taken by Pei Song into Lanxing Pavilion. That Princess Hanyang will probably end up keeping her sister-in-law company!”
The table burst into knowing laughter.
“Server, the bill.”
A cold, heavy voice rang out from the table diagonally across from them.
Someone from the merchant caravan turned to look, only catching sight of the youth’s sharp, clean-lined jaw as he walked past their table, and his upright figure stepping into the curtain of rain. The arm that held his blade bulged slightly under his arrow sleeve. He rode off alone on horseback, like a solitary wolf.
—
After days of fleeing, Wen Yu had caught a cold.
Her portrait had already been copied so widely that even mountain bandits each had a copy in hand. Countless declared they would make her their mountain fortress empress.
Vicious bandits ahead, pursuing soldiers behind—to avoid inspections along the way, she had no choice but to use cat fur again to make herself break out in a rash all over. But this allergic reaction combined with the cold truly became an overwhelming illness.
Two days ago she could still ride a horse. By the third day, she didn’t even have the strength to mount a horse. Probably from exhausting her mind and body all along this journey, depleting her constitution, this cold came on fiercely. She had continuous high fever, her body ached weakly, and it felt as if needles were piercing her bones.
On the road, to draw away pursuing soldiers, their group of fewer than ten had split into three routes.
Now staying by Wen Yu’s side were only the head guard Cen An and a female guard, Tongque.
They also had varying degrees of sword wounds, but all the major prefectures seemed to have received word that they were injured. To track them down, not only were they conducting city-wide searches for injured people, they also began strictly investigating all pharmacies—anyone who went to buy wound medicine would be tailed and followed.
The head guard and the others’ injuries had thus been left untreated.
This day, seeing Wen Yu’s high fever persisting, the head guard Cen An said: “I’ll disguise myself and go to a pharmacy to get medicine for treating colds for the Noble Mistress!”
Wen Yu shook her head. The high fever had already dried and cracked her originally full lips. Though exhaustion showed in her eyes, they remained resilient as ever as she said: “You’re injured. If you go to a medical hall, just one glance and a physician could spot something wrong.”
After thinking for a moment, the head guard said: “Then I’ll go to the marketplace to see if I can encounter a folk physician or a medicine farmer from the countryside selling herbs. Then I could obtain some medicinal materials.”
The female guard Tongque, supporting Wen Yu, looked at her and said: “Noble Mistress, I also think this method is feasible.”
The high fever had also triggered Wen Yu’s chronic headaches, making her head hurt terribly and slowing her thinking.
She knew that not only did her cold require medicine, but Cen An and Tongque’s wounds also needed treatment. Otherwise, if the wounds worsened, it would only become more difficult.
She finally nodded, instructing: “Be careful in everything. Stay alert on the road. If you discover people watching in the marketplace too, don’t risk buying medicine. Come back and we’ll discuss it further.”
Cen An cupped his fist toward her: “This humble one has memorized everything.”
After he left, Tongque closed the ruined temple door again. She poured out some boiled water from the small black iron pot, let it cool a bit, then helped Wen Yu sit up and fed her some, asking: “Noble Mistress, do you feel any better?”
Wen Yu moistened her dry, painful throat and gently nodded.
Though her face had broken out in a rash, it still couldn’t suppress her pallor.
In the shrine of the ruined temple, a large Buddha statue with peeling gold paint seemed to smile and pity the mortal world.
Wen Yu looked at that Buddha statue and, forcing herself up, walked forward and knelt on the dusty meditation cushion, pressing her palms together and bowing devoutly to the Buddha.
Tongque asked: “Does the Noble Mistress believe in gods and Buddhas?”
After finishing her bows, Wen Yu answered: “I originally didn’t, but in this world, I have no close relatives left, only my sister-in-law and A’Yin. Even if it’s illusory and intangible, I’m still willing to pray for their blessings.”
Tongque watched the woman kneeling on the meditation cushion, bathed in the light streaming through the broken window as if draped in divine grace. Her heart inexplicably trembled and she was momentarily speechless.
But at this moment, chaotic footsteps came from outside the ruined temple.
Wen Yu raised her eyes to look outside. Tongque had already cautiously hidden by the broken window, looking out through the hole to see several beggars leading government soldiers this way, saying: “It’s that ruined temple ahead!”
Tongque’s expression changed. She overturned the small pot, using the water inside to extinguish the fire, then helped Wen Yu up, saying: “This is bad! It seems the beggars in this area caught wind of something and brought government soldiers for the reward! I’ll take the Noble Mistress away first!”
Tongque led Wen Yu out through the rear hall of the ruined temple.
Several beggars led the government soldiers into the temple. The soldiers searched privately but found no one. The soldier chief rubbed some hot ash from beside the woodpile between his fingers, saying: “The fire was just extinguished. The people shouldn’t have gone far.”
The soldiers searching also came to report: “Chief! We found footprints behind the ruined temple!”
The soldier chief shouted: “Chase them quickly!”
Wen Yu’s diseased body weakened by cold couldn’t endure prolonged flight, and Tongque, injured, couldn’t carry her either.
Seeing the government soldiers about to catch up, she leaned against the wall and pushed Tongque, saying: “You escape. My face is completely changed now—even with portraits, they won’t be able to recognize me!”
Tongque gritted her teeth and pulled Wen Yu onto her back in one motion. Disregarding the pain of her wound being compressed, she carried her forward, breathing the biting cold wind: “If you’re with us and fall into the soldiers’ hands, even if they can’t recognize you, they’ll use torture to interrogate and force out our whereabouts. How could I let you face such danger!”
Her words had barely fallen when Tongque cried out in pain, her entire body falling forward out of control.
She did her best to protect Wen Yu but still caused Wen Yu’s elbow to strike heavily against the ground when she fell, producing a muffled groan. Her face pale, Wen Yu ignored the pain and went to help Tongque: “You’re injured…”
An arrow had struck Tongque’s calf. Blood seeped down the arrow shaft—the arrowhead must have been coated with anesthetic. Half her leg had already lost all feeling. Supporting herself with her blade, eyes reddening, she said: “Noble Mistress, don’t worry about me—you must go quickly!”
Wen Yu shook her head, her eyes also somewhat red. She tucked a strand of Tongque’s loose hair behind her ear, saying: “You’ve risked your lives to escort me this far—it’s already enough.”
She drew the dagger from Tongque’s waist.
Tongque seemed to know what she intended to do, resentful tears in her eyes: “Noble Mistress, you mustn’t!”
Wen Yu pressed her shoulder, saying: “Tongque, we’ll plan for another day. Don’t needlessly throw away your life.”
She pressed the dagger to her own throat, forcing herself to stand, looking toward the government soldiers reining in their horses not far away: “I, Wen clan’s Hanyang, am willing to go with you, but if you harm my people by even a hair, I guarantee you’ll only bring back a corpse.”
The cold wind blew her clothes and hair. Those eyes usually gentle and calm now blazed with a cold light like blades.
Despite her wretched appearance, the nobility and grace emanating from her very bones still forced the soldier chief not to dare look directly at her.
The soldier chief naturally knew that the merit of capturing her alive far exceeded bringing back a dead person. He immediately made a gesture to the soldiers below, and they put away their bows and arrows.
He smiled: “Since the Princess knew this would happen, why struggle like a cornered beast? My lord simply heard the Princess was passing through and wanted to invite the Princess to the manor as a guest.”
But behind him came the sound of hoofbeats like thunder.
The soldier chief turned around to see at the end of the long street where the golden crow was setting, two horses galloping at full speed. The person in front had a conical hat covering half their face, a five-chi-long Miao blade drawn in hand, its cold gleam intimidating.
The soldiers below didn’t dare charge directly to block someone slashing with the momentum of the horse. Seeing the warhorse approaching, they all dodged aside. Those drawing bows and nocking arrows hadn’t even pulled the strings when the Miao blade descended with killing intent.
The soldier chief shouted loudly, kicked his horse’s belly to urge it forward, raising his sword to fight the newcomer.
However, in just the instant of one exchange, blood spurted from his neck as he fell headfirst from his horse with an expression of disbelief.
The mounted person showed no sign of slowing. Passing by Wen Yu’s side, a long arm reached down and swept her onto the horse at the waist, riding away.
The wooden carp pendant hanging at Wen Yu’s waist struck against the other person’s scabbard, making a soft sound.
The rider following behind did the same, scooping up the injured Tongque and following closely.
Wen Yu was draped across the horse’s back, her body pressed into a familiar arm. The cold wind rushing toward her made her already hoarse throat even more unable to speak. That iron arm wrapped tightly around her waist never loosened.
Wen Yu was slightly stunned. Breathing shallowly the lingering scent of saponin at her nose, she suddenly didn’t know how to speak.