Xie Zhu returned to his Jinling home in the afternoon. Qiu Jie’er had been waiting in the courtyard for her father for quite a while. She had specifically collected some questions from books to ask her father about—of course, this was just an excuse. Actually, she was worried about the situation in Li Du Mansion and wanted to ask what was happening now.

Not long ago, news of Sixth Cousin’s death had arrived, leaving her both heartbroken and shocked. Previously, she had immersed herself in the world of books and paintings, deliberately avoiding the cruel warfare, always thinking that she and her family could turn misfortune into fortune each time. Only when death fell upon the vibrant Sixth Cousin did she suddenly wake from her peach blossom paradise.

It seemed no one could be spared—war was right beside her.

The always introverted Qiu Jie’er began frequently going out to hear more rumors and news from outside. Though she couldn’t do anything, knowing more and understanding the situation more clearly was surely not wrong.

Father was an important court minister, but after returning home he never liked discussing political affairs. She could only ask indirectly.

“By the way, Father, when I went out today, I heard people in the streets talking about Li Du Mansion’s siege defense. Will the court send reinforcements?”

Today’s long morning court session was probably about this matter. Qiu Jie’er nervously waited for her father’s answer, but vaguely glimpsed something strange in his expression. She lowered her eyes and noticed her father holding a memorial with a yellow background and cloud patterns—this was something used at the imperial presence, presumably a handwritten memorial from the emperor.

“This matter has not yet been decided. We must wait for His Majesty to consider clearly,” Xie Zhu answered vaguely. “Young ladies shouldn’t inquire about such matters.”

But Qiu Jie’er felt her father clearly had an answer but was unwilling to reveal it. Lately, Father had always had some strange aspects. When he learned of Sixth Cousin’s death, Father was both grief-stricken and furious, cursing “useless thing.” She didn’t know whom he was cursing—clearly not the Qi people, and impossible to be Sixth Cousin.

She naturally knew Father had no need to reveal everything to the womenfolk at home.

The brief suspicion was quickly withdrawn. She was about to return to the back courtyard but was called back by Mother, who asked her to take some tonics to Father in his study.

Xie Zhu probably hadn’t expected Qiu Jie’er to come to the study again and casually threw the memorial he’d brought back into the brazier.

Qiu Jie’er happened to be standing in the corridor and saw this scene. She was so shocked she stepped back several times. How could Father burn the emperor’s memorial? On second thought, maybe it was something to be burned after reading?

Then why not just leave it in the palace instead of bringing it home to burn?

Qiu Jie’er dared not think too much. Father must have his reasons for doing this, but she also kept it in mind, having a servant deliver the tonics while she pretended to see nothing and quietly left.

Little did she know that this memorial consumed by flames contained Xu Zhou’s hoped-for method of breaking the deadlock.

Xu Zhou had instructed Xie Zhu to secretly deliver his handwritten letter to Song Muchuan. He wanted Song Muchuan to bring Xie Queshan to the capital to clarify the situation before rumors got out of control, inform the ministers of Li Du Mansion’s true situation, then directly lead reinforcements back to the city to resolve Li Du Mansion’s crisis.

Only this handwritten letter would never be seen by Song Muchuan again.

—

Li Du Mansion remained calm and peaceful. Everyone in the army now knew the mysterious strategist was Xie Queshan. He had led them to several more victories, and his actions were clear for all to see. Most people expressed deep admiration after hearing of his undercover exploits, and his undercover identity was smoothly transitioning from covert to open.

However, the good times didn’t last long. The Qi army was stationed in Luyang Town, where the common people had already surrendered, yet the Qi people suddenly broke their word and massacred all the civilians and soldiers in the city.

This was intimidation through a show of force—the strong could ruthlessly crush the weak, and this was the fate of those who refused to submit.

Separated by only Xieyang Valley, many people in the city had relatives and friends in Luyang Town. Fear and grief silently spread throughout Li Du Mansion. Following this, rumors about the new Jinling dynasty not sending troops first spread among the people.

They said Li Du Mansion was actually under the control of the traitorous minister Xie Queshan, and the previous battles were all performances for the new dynasty to see, aimed at getting the court to send troops here for complete annihilation. The court had already seen through the Qi people’s scheme, knowing Li Du Mansion was a huge trap, and therefore refused to send troops.

Li Du Mansion had long been the Qi people’s prize possession, and resistance was useless.

Half true and half false, yet consistent with the facts, it seemed very reasonable to those who didn’t know the full picture. In the current tense atmosphere of Li Du Mansion, any rumor with some basis could stir up waves.

Initially, the army didn’t take these baseless talks seriously. But when many people said it, inevitably someone would listen. If the battles were fought in vain and defending the city was futile, who could bear such a result?

But once such opinions emerged, soldiers spontaneously argued with people, defending Xie Queshan. Heroes still carried weight in the men’s hearts, and the people naturally believed the court wouldn’t abandon them—reinforcements would come sooner or later. Song Muchuan was initially worried something would happen, but seeing the army was generally reasonable, he felt slightly reassured. The army was the most important defense line—if even morale here scattered, it would probably mean self-destruction.

Song Muchuan was on high alert, fearing spies would come to disturb military morale, and ordered strict surveillance around the main camp.

Under such vigilance, they indeed caught a spy who had infiltrated during the night.

The spy carried a secret letter intended for Xie Queshan. The letter said that when Yu dynasty reinforcements entered the city, Lord Xie should pretend to pursue but actually trap them like fish in a barrel, then march south with the entire army. Upon success, he would immediately be appointed Right Chancellor.

Such clumsy framing made Song Muchuan furious enough to call it ridiculous, but some people still believed it.

Combined with the continued absence of reinforcements day after day, the soldiers’ will to defend the city was being crushed, and questioning voices grew rampant in the city and army.

Even those who had previously defended Xie Queshan could no longer speak up. Belief was a void thing, a weightless thing that could quickly tip the scales to the other side. Their past support became reason for even greater anger and humiliation now—their passionate blood had been defeated by facts, making their fury more turbulent.

People could only see what they were able to see, and ignorance sometimes became a weapon.

The enemy understood clearly that successful siege warfare always began with internal collapse.

Conflicts grew increasingly sharp, with some soldiers even wanting to storm into Xie Queshan’s camp to make him submit and confess his crimes.

“My family is all in Luyang Town! Even if I die here today, I must avenge my family!”

“Tell us, was Luyang Town’s massacre part of your treacherous scheme!”

“If he’s not a spy, why is he hiding and not daring to come out!”

“What do you mean hiding? The strategist is openly discussing affairs in his camp!”

Soldiers led by the Yucheng Army firmly blocked outside, stopping the chaotic and angry troops from rushing in. The two groups faced each other with weapons, about to fight.

“If he has nothing to hide, then let him come out and die to apologize!”

“He’s clearly innocent—why should he die?!”

The clamor kept reaching the main camp, yet inside it was completely silent.

Xie Queshan sat with hands at his sides, appearing nonchalant but having heard every word in his heart. After a long while, he finally raised his head. The spirited vigor from galloping on the battlefield a few days ago had completely dissipated, his expression showing undisguised loneliness.

“I’ll leave the military camp first to avoid the limelight. This way you’ll have an explanation too.”

Song Muchuan didn’t respond, though he knew this might be a temporary way to ease the conflict. But he didn’t want Xie Chao’en to always be the one bearing infamy in the end. He was unwilling to see the Jingchun Incident happen again—a general who couldn’t get reinforcements could only save himself through submission. Eight years ago’s Xie Chao’en, eight years later’s Xie Queshan—they seemed to face the same dilemma.

Ying Huai looked hesitantly at Song Muchuan, hoping his clever mind could think of some miraculous turnaround, otherwise there seemed no choice at present.

“I disagree,” Song Muchuan said firmly. “I can’t fight battles, and Ying Huai lacks experience commanding large-scale warfare. If you leave the military camp, the situation will only get worse. The biggest problem now is that reinforcements aren’t coming, causing popular unrest. But His Majesty won’t abandon Li Du Mansion. I’ll personally go to Jinling to request troops.”

Xie Queshan opened his mouth but ultimately couldn’t say anything.

His chest still flowed with hot blood—he wanted more than anyone to carve out a bloody path amid the golden spears and iron horses, serving the country with his life.

But his identity had become a weakness the Qi people could exploit, from his teacher Shen Zhizhong’s death to these successive rumors now—this was a trap woven long ago. Whether he was strong or weak, he would eventually crash into this net.

As the three men sat in silence, a loud cry suddenly came from outside: “Something happened at the ferry! Quickly come to the ferry to save people!”

This cry immediately dissipated the explosive atmosphere in front of the camp, and everyone turned to rush toward the ferry.

The city was already in chaos. Originally, only some wealthy households had taken their families south to avoid trouble, but once rumors of the court not providing aid spread, even civilians determined to defend the city began abandoning it to flee south. Whether they had bought boat tickets or not, they all crowded onto boats, as if just getting on a boat would save their lives.

Such frantic flight finally caused fatalities—a boat packed with people capsized after sailing only three to five li from shore because it was riding too deep in the water. Everyone aboard fell into the water. Those who could swim well barely made it back to shore, while those who couldn’t swim struggled and sank to the river bottom.

Song Muchuan quickly brought soldiers to the scene to rescue the drowning civilians. But even such immediate danger couldn’t stop people’s desperate flight—many still rushed to board boats. To maintain order at the city gates and ferry, reducing needless casualties, he had no choice but to order strict guarding of exits—those without official permits couldn’t leave the city.

Once this order was issued, the civilians who had been on edge for days became even more emotionally out of control, with protests unceasing.

“What right do you have! Do you want us all to die in the city?!”

“Exactly! I’d rather drown in the river than be trampled by Qi people!”

Some even pointed at Song Muchuan’s nose and cursed: “You’re in cahoots with that traitor Xie, selling out Li Du Mansion! You’re unfit to be our magistrate!”

Song Muchuan was surrounded by the angry crowd, desperately trying to explain: “Those are rumors spread by Qi people to divide popular sentiment! If everyone believes them, we’re falling into the Qi people’s trap! Please unite, trust us—Li Du Mansion can definitely be held!”

“Why should we trust you! If you’re truly sincere, kill that traitor Xie as a sacrifice!”

Xie Queshan stood at an unnoticed street corner, watching the indignant crowd nearly submerge Song Muchuan.

He struggled to mediate among the crowd, but his shouts were drowned out by the waves of voices, leaving only futility.

A helpless disappointment rose in Xie Queshan’s heart. He wasn’t a criminal, yet his existence was pointed at by thousands, unwelcome in the world.

The people he loved didn’t love him back.

He had done everything he should do—his conscience was clearly clear. But at this moment, his string had been stretched to its limit. Like everyone else, he was a loyal subject of this land, so why was heaven unjust, sending all suffering toward him alone?

He was a bit tired. This city was woven together from ten thousand people’s private interests and righteousness. When popular sentiment went to an extreme he couldn’t control, his individual strength couldn’t shake it half a bit. At this moment, saying anything would seem like trying to cover up—he was already on the pillar of shame.

He really wanted to just walk away.

“Xie San—Xie San!”

In his daze, Xie Queshan seemed to hear someone calling him. Turning back, he saw Madam Gantang.

“Second Sister.” He barely regained focus, his tone still somewhat absent-minded.

Unexpectedly, a figure darted out from behind Madam Gantang and warmly linked arms with him.

“Second Sister specially asked me to lead the way to find you!” Nanyi spoke lightly yet carefully, nervously glancing at Madam Gantang.

Obviously, Nanyi had called Madam Gantang over—she knew family was always his softest spot.

The clamorous shouts of “Kill the traitor Xie” boiled over there, but Madam Gantang seemed to hear nothing, saying matter-of-factly: “Let’s go home. Grandmother misses you and says that no matter what, she wants you to come back for dinner together today.”

Second Sister had also found an excuse, carefully trying to pull him up.

Everyone knew he was at the cliff’s edge.

Xie Queshan understood clearly but didn’t expose it, only smiled and said yes.

It seemed like the most ordinary walk home.