Wen Yu didn’t know why Li Yao suddenly asked this question. She answered “Yes,” recalling that look Xiao Li had given her when their eyes met. Her fingertips tightened slightly as she set down the compress for her eyes and looked at Li Yao: “Sir, why do you suddenly ask about this?”

Li Yao used the tea lid to skim the tea foam, stroke by stroke. Half his wrinkled old face was hidden by the tea’s mist as he said with considerable regret: “That boy’s ruthless energy in deploying troops rather resembles the renowned Grand General Who Pacifies the North, Qin Yi, who once shook the court and realm.”

Wen Yu had never heard this name before, a trace of confusion showing between her brows.

Li Yao took a light sip of tea: “You’re young and don’t know this person. Over ten years ago, he was implicated in a succession case. His entire household was exiled, and he was imprisoned for life in Yong Province’s prison. Everyone in court and beyond speaks of him in hushed tones. Except for those old fellows who managed criminal ministry files, probably few among today’s former ministers know of him anymore.”

“But this person truly had some accomplishments in military strategy. The several battles that made him famous were all victories against superior numbers. His troop deployment was fierce, devious, and ever-changing. Even Wei Qishan once suffered defeat at his hands. What a pity—one moment of confusion, and the rest of his life wasted away in prison.”

After Li Yao finished speaking, he saw Wen Yu’s fingertips gripping that handkerchief forcefully, as if she’d fallen into deep thought. He couldn’t help but ask oddly: “What’s wrong, Ziyu?”

Wen Yu suddenly remembered that when she was in Tong City, before her death, Miss Liu had told her that Pei Song was connected to the Qin family.

After arriving in Ping Province, she’d also instructed subordinates to investigate all Qin-surnamed officials in court. But the ministers who came to pledge allegiance were a minority after all, and the Ping Province government office was merely a local office that hadn’t collected records of all court officials. The information they could find was truly limited, so this matter had made no progress all along.

Now Li Yao suddenly mentioned that a Qin-surnamed general implicated in a succession case was still imprisoned in Yong Province’s prison. Wen Yu recalled how after Pei Song conquered Fengyang, rather than striking while the iron was hot to take Meng Prefecture at the height of his momentum, he instead diverted to Yong City. She just found it strange.

If Pei Song had discovered her whereabouts and thus rushed to Yong City, those pursuing her were clearly many days late in catching up to the party traveling south with her, and Pei Song hadn’t made a big fuss about Zhou Sui during that time either.

This could only mean that when Pei Song went to Yong City, he didn’t know she was there.

Then his purpose in going to Yong City at that time became rather intriguing.

Wen Yu’s thick, long black lashes lifted. Against the light, her eyes were calm as water: “Sir, does the Qin family still have descendants?”

This question came rather abruptly. Li Yao considered briefly and shook his head: “There should be none. Qin Yi had only one son. On the exile journey, both his first wife and only son died of illness successively. At that time, I was still serving as Zhongshu Ling in court. Emperor Shaojing was young, and many memorials needed discussion and handling by the regent ministers. I saw the memorial the Yong Province governor sent back to Luodu, stating that after experiencing the pain of losing wife and son, by the time Qin Yi reached Yong Province, he’d already gone mad.”

Hearing this, Wen Yu’s tightly furrowed brow still didn’t relax.

Li Yao laughed: “Don’t tell me the Wengzhu suspects that Xiao boy is Qin Yi’s descendant?”

He shook his head: “That would be overthinking it. I’ve seen Qin Yi—those two have not the slightest similarity in physique or appearance. I only asked earlier because seeing his killing general’s style reminded me of Qin Yi, nothing more.”

Wen Yu only had a tentative guess about Pei Song’s true identity and didn’t dare make rash conclusions yet, so she temporarily didn’t plan to tell Li Yao. She said: “I wasn’t thinking that. I’m just puzzled—after Pei Song broke through Fengyang earlier, he first diverted to Yong City. Could it not also have been to bring this person Qin Yi under his command? But no rumors have emerged.”

Li Yao said: “Qin Yi has been mad for over ten years. He’s probably unusable now and not worth fearing.”

That ruthless ferocity with which Pei Song exterminated the Wen imperial clan and the several great aristocratic families led by the Ao faction as imperial relatives—Wen Yu had never forgotten it.

If his killing her father, brother, and nephew was for power, that he didn’t even spare Miss Liu, a married-out daughter, could only make her think toward hatred.

If Pei Song truly was Qin Yi’s descendant, for him to hate the imperial house and those great families led by the Ao faction so much, the root should lie in this household confiscation and exile.

Wen Yu only felt that the question troubling her for so long finally had some clues. She raised her eyes and asked: “Sir, was this person Qin Yi loyal or treacherous? Could there have been any hidden circumstances in that succession case back then?”

Li Yao looked at Wen Yu with surprise: “Your questions are getting stranger and stranger.”

The window lattice was wide open. Fresh greenery filled the courtyard. Wind blowing in from the window stirred Wen Yu’s gauze sleeves. Her expression dimmed slightly: “Sir also knows that when the Late Emperor ascended the throne and the Ao faction covered the sky with one hand, my father king was still in Fengyang, governing one region while keeping a low profile. Many loyal ministers and fine generals in court were persecuted. From what you say, Sir, that Qin Yi seems to have had great talent. If he too was a loyal minister harmed due to the imperial house’s incompetence, the Wen clan owes yet another person. Yu doesn’t want to overlook any single person.”

Looking at Wen Yu, Li Yao’s gaze held even more admiration: “Throughout history, imperial families have feared family scandals spreading. There are plenty who play deaf and dumb, whitewashing peace. Your state of mind is rare and precious.”

He picked up his tea again, but after skimming just twice without taking a sip, recalling past events, he set it back on the table. His already gaunt face grew even more severe: “Whether this person Qin Yi was loyal or treacherous cannot yet be judged, but in his youth, he was somewhat stubborn and self-opinionated. He excelled at devious stratagems. Before emerging prominently in the military, he often disregarded military orders and wouldn’t follow commands. Even if he achieved merit in a battle, his faults canceled out his merits.”

“Due to this temperament, he remained merely a minor cavalry captain for years in the Shuo Province army. Later, when Emperor Mingcheng encountered danger in Shuo Province, he seized that opportunity. By merit of saving the emperor, he leapt to become a favorite before the Son of Heaven. Now it’s hard to say whether he was sufficiently clever or truly arrogant—he uniformly ignored all the powerful’s attempts to curry favor. Emperor Mingcheng needed a close minister who listened only to him. With such conduct, he increasingly won Emperor Mingcheng’s favor and was repeatedly promoted.”

Wen Yu’s expression was calm as she listened carefully.

On Li Yao’s wrinkled old face also floated some indescribable expression: “But this power was given too much. As Emperor Mingcheng aged and his health declined day by day, Qin Yi’s approach to military campaigns had always been ‘when the general is abroad, some military orders need not be received.’ After defying orders too many times, the emperor’s suspicion took root.”

Wen Yu handed the thoroughly cooled compress to Zhao Bai and asked: “So was the confiscation and exile of Qin Yi’s entire family unjust?”

Li Yao shook his head: “This old man hadn’t yet been appointed Zhongshu Ling then and didn’t know much. I only remember that on the eve of the succession upheaval, Qin Yi was still confined to his residence for angering the emperor. Later, news of Emperor Mingcheng’s grave illness somehow leaked out. Several princes launched a palace coup at night. The Crown Prince attending the sickbed in Taiji Palace died beneath a hail of arrows. Emperor Mingcheng was furious. The Ao family and Imperial Guards purged the rebel factions and suppressed the rebellion, only to discover that Qin Yi, who had been confined to his home, had also appeared at the Wu Gate with troops.”

Hearing this, Wen Yu’s eyes seemed thoughtful.

She knew very little about the period after Emperor Mingcheng’s death when Emperor Shaojing succeeded. She only knew the princes competed for position and killed the Crown Prince who was still attending the sickbed in the palace. Emperor Mingcheng was greatly disappointed in those sons and heartbroken over losing his heir, so later passed the throne to Emperor Shaojing, who had been raised under the Empress Dowager.

After that, those princes who failed in the succession struggle—whether exiled or imprisoned—all died one by one. Otherwise, Grand Tutor Yu and the others wouldn’t have had to choose her father king as heir apparent.

Previously, Wen Yu hadn’t thought much about it, but combining it with the Ao faction’s subsequent dominance over court and realm, that palace coup and succession struggle probably wasn’t so simple.

Zhao Bai said: “Even if Qin Yi was confined, with upheaval in the palace, bringing troops to rescue the emperor would be reasonable. Emperor Mingcheng shouldn’t have settled accounts with him just for disregarding the confinement order.”

Li Yao glanced sideways: “Naturally. Such major cases have always required joint trials by the Three Judicial Offices before decisions. But during the palace coup, when the Fifth Prince saw Qin Yi arrive, he sought his aid, asking him to help kill a way out. It appeared Qin Yi was in league with him. Only Qin Yi insisted with one voice that he came to rescue the emperor. Emperor Mingcheng was at the height of his rage then and had everyone thrown into prison.”

These old events were too distant. As Li Yao carefully recalled while thinking of how Great Liang’s realm had ultimately declined to this state, his eyes inevitably held more vicissitudes: “No one knows whether Qin Yi had agreed in advance to help the Fifth Prince seize succession, then seeing the situation turning bad claimed he came to rescue the emperor. The Court of Judicial Review searched Qin Manor and found quite a few rare treasures sent by the Fifth Prince. Upon interrogating Qin Manor’s servants and aide ministers, some testified that Qin Yi had long had dealings with the Fifth Prince. With ironclad evidence, Emperor Mingcheng thus stripped his military authority. Originally, the entire Qin household was sentenced to immediate execution, but later, due to ministers pleading, he mercifully commuted it to exile.”

The tea beside Li Yao had cooled. Wen Yu refilled him a cup of fresh tea: “Based on all the surface evidence from back then, Qin Yi doesn’t seem to have been wrongly accused?”

Standing in later years, she would have doubts about the truth back then.

Perhaps Qin Yi was wrongly accused. Perhaps everything was designed by the Ao faction. Or perhaps Emperor Mingcheng knew too, and having already harbored suspicion, went with the flow to take back the Qin family’s military authority.

But these were merely suspicions. Everything still needed concrete evidence to overturn that dead proof that convicted Qin Yi back then.

She didn’t know Qin Yi’s character. Everything she could currently deduce came from fragmentary accounts by people who knew bits of that history and her own speculation.

Whether or not Pei Song was Qin Yi’s descendant aside, even if he was, if he hated the Wen clan and that Ao faction crowd, what if it was merely resentment that the succession struggle lost back then?

Wen Yu acknowledged he was a sufficiently formidable opponent, but for such a person dripping with blood who had slaughtered countless innocent lives, she wouldn’t imagine him as overly tragic or benevolent either.

Li Yao picked up the teacup, his gaze aged yet coldly resolute: “So many years have passed. Great Liang’s palace halls have turned to ash in flames. These old rotten affairs your father king couldn’t even investigate—why do you persist so stubbornly? This old man praised your precious state of mind, but not to have you drill into that dead end. The urgent priority is still the subsequent alliance negotiations with Southern Chen.”

Wen Yu said: “Yu knows what’s light and what’s urgent. Asking these things today is only to overturn verdicts for all ministers who suffered injustice in the future. They once repaid Great Liang with loyalty—how could Yu let them bear eternal infamy? Yu wishes to take history as a mirror. If ancestors committed wrongs, Yu should constantly reflect even more, so as not to repeat mistakes.”

Someone outside was calling for Wen Yu. She clasped her hands toward Li Yao and withdrew first.

Li Yao gazed long at the hot tea in his hand, suddenly shedding sorrowful tears: “If only born ten years earlier, how could Great Liang have…”

He wiped his face with his sleeve, temporarily suppressing the grief, and turned his head toward the window where birds chirped.

Outside the courtyard, trees flourished luxuriantly in bright spring light. The wooden hairpin in his grizzled hair made his frosted locks seem even sparser.

After this year passed, he would be seventy-one.

Those aspirations he’d promised Prince Changlian back then—he ultimately didn’t dare speak them to Wen Yu.

Great rivers rolled on, waters flowing east.

This bag of old bones of his ultimately couldn’t escape time’s grinding. How much heroic ambition had all been consigned to eastern waters.

Li Yao gazed at the courtyard in fine spring scenery, murmuring to himself: “The old steed in the stable still aspires to gallop a thousand li…”

In his aged, slightly sunken eyes, his gaze gradually firmed. He smiled and chanted: “Too late? Not late!”