Yao Chunfeng didn’t leave the house until after his midday meal. Just as he was heading out the door, his wife called after him from behind in a sarcastic tone: “Oh, off to see your precious old daughter, are you — hmph, ‘old daughter’!”

Not arguing with women was a lesson Yao Chunfeng had learned through blood and tears across three marriages. There was no reasoning with it anyway, so he simply held his tongue.

Ah, each one worse than the last — who would have thought that in this lifetime he’d have no luck at all with children, and on top of that be cursed to lose wives — every one he married died on him, and still he wasn’t satisfied, unable even to keep one hefty wife alive.

This current wife of his was truly enormous — you couldn’t find another woman her size anywhere in the capital. Only after marrying her did he realize he’d been had — she was a full head taller than him, and vicious in a fight besides; he truly couldn’t hold his own against her, and after getting beaten he was too embarrassed to tell anyone.

In the old days, the neighborhood used to say it was because his household dealt in shady, morally bankrupt business that he couldn’t have children — nobody said that anymore, but the fact remained he still couldn’t produce any. On top of that, this new wife of his was only three years older than Ninth Brother, and the jealousy she felt over that meant he didn’t even dare stand near Ninth Brother in public. He himself, an old scoundrel, didn’t care one way or another, but Ninth Brother was a good girl, and he didn’t want to cause her any trouble.

Today she’d properly sent him an invitation card, and he genuinely wanted to go — heh heh… but his wife blocked the doorway with her body, leaving too narrow a gap for him to squeeze through, and no amount of stomping his feet in frustration did any good.

Speaking of Ninth Brother — ugh, every time Yao Chunfeng thought of this, he felt genuinely wronged. That skinny little urchin — back then he truly hadn’t realized she was a girl. She’d been so scrawny and homely at first that no one could have guessed that, once properly raised, she’d turn into such a fair, delicate young lady… And in the end Ninth Brother had become the guild head, and he couldn’t very well object to that either.

His father had always said that a guild head only needed to do two things well in this life: be impartial, and be sincere.

His impartiality was how Huo Ninth Brother had come to be — it was just this business of his new wife’s jealousy that he truly had no way around. There were plenty of sharp-tongued gossips in the neighborhood too, all claiming there was something between him and Ninth Brother.

Heaven and earth as his witness — because of that talk, Yao Chunfeng barely dared linger anywhere near his adopted son. He brushed off some imaginary dust from his clothes and headed out toward the alley, when from inside the courtyard came a heart-rending shriek: “Yao Chunfeng!”

Yao Chunfeng sighed helplessly, uncorked his wine gourd, took a swig, and muttered, “Yao Chunfeng? Heh heh, whatever you’re imagining, there’s nothing there. What could there possibly be between me and him… And these days he’s the young lady of a first-rank noble household besides… You women all keep snake tongues in your mouths, twisting every word you say.”

“Yao Chunfeng, if you dare go near that shameless little tramp, don’t bother coming back…”

Yao Chunfeng froze mid-step — now this had truly lit his temper. The veins on his forehead bulged, and he roared back at the door, “Damn it, don’t push me to actually lose my temper — you think I’m just naturally good-natured? Get out, go back to your mother’s house, I don’t want you anymore…”

Before he even finished, the cursing from inside stopped abruptly. The gate swung shut smoothly, as if the venomous words from moments ago had never been spoken at all.

His lips twitched a few times. Glancing at the neighbors nearby who were pretending not to have noticed anything, Yao Chunfeng laughed. “Hey! No need to hide and snicker, gentlemen — come on out and watch if you want, might as well, since you won’t get another chance after this…”

The neighbors sheepishly retreated.

From inside the gate came the sound of loud crying. After hanging the gourd back at his waist, Yao Chunfeng clasped his hands behind his back and walked off, privately resolving that this time he would absolutely send her back to her family home and let her father and brothers give her a proper talking-to.

Lost in his pleasant fantasy, he strolled at a leisurely pace until he reached Ding Gu Temple. Once in the back courtyard, he saw the pavilion crowded with people — the kind he’d grown up around in the capital, the kind you simply didn’t want to provoke.

There was even someone among them he recognized — that young Lord Tang, who dealt with matters at the Ministry of Justice whenever there were disputes in the neighborhoods. That one always had a sour look on his face whenever he saw him — though perhaps this lord didn’t even recognize him at all.

But now, seeing him arrive, Ninth Brother stood up to greet him, and the whole group rose along with her.

In that instant, a whirlwind of officialdom’s aura swept over him, and it left Yao Chunfeng’s spirit shaken, his knees suddenly weak.

This — this — Ninth Brother’s family… it was a little frightening!

He grew flustered, and his voice came out awkward as he turned to Huo Ninth Brother. “So, my dear son, that… this is your brother-in-law?”

Old Nine, Ninth Brother, old son, old daughter, old girl… Yao Chunfeng had always addressed Huo Wu Rong however he pleased, without any consistency.

Wu Rong smiled and introduced her sister and brother-in-law. Qiqian’er looked at this round-faced, perpetually smiling short and stout old man before her with deep gratitude.

He was the one who had given a starving fugitive a bowl of rice and a way to survive, and once he’d learned her sister was a girl, he’d given her the fairest treatment possible.

She was even prepared to kowtow to this old man twice.

Chen Dasheng was about to kneel down too, but this startled the man so badly that he leapt back and grabbed onto a nearby pillar, even scrambling partway up it as he cried out, “Don’t! What are you doing! You’re all such distinguished people — don’t mind me and my nonsense talk. I’m only forty this year — my father had a good fortune-teller calculate my life span at a hundred and twenty. Distinguished sir, distinguished madam, if you bow to me today, just one kowtow from you would strip thirty years right off my life span…”

Huo Wu Rong couldn’t stand it anymore. She marched over to the pillar and looked up at Yao Chunfeng, still trying to climb, and said, “Dad, what are you even talking about? You’re already in your fifties, nearly sixty! And you’re saying you’re forty? Get down here, why do you have so much to say? This is my sister and brother-in-law, they’re not outsiders — what’s wrong with accepting a proper elder’s greeting from them?”

Yao Chunfeng stopped climbing and, with great seriousness, leaned down to explain to Huo Wu Rong, “Old girl, these two eyes of your father here…” He pointed at his own eyes, then, unable to hold on any longer, slid back down the pillar.

He came down too fast and got himself painfully pinched in a sensitive spot, and rubbing his thigh with a pained expression, he explained, “I’ve seen all kinds of people in my life. These are your relatives — nothing to do with me. Ai-yo! Now that I’ve accepted this bow out of respect for you, what if they later feel it wasn’t proper and come looking for trouble with me? Child, why didn’t you tell me about this beforehand? Catching me so off guard like this…”

Huo Wu Rong, helpless, could only apologize to Qiqian’er and Chen Dasheng. “He’s always like this. I even went to his house once to explain things properly — oh my, that huge wife of his could crush me flat just by sitting on me! You all think a guild head carries such prestige? Back when they were choosing who would carry corpses, it wasn’t because he had seniority or standing — it’s because everyone else ran off and hid! He was simply the easiest one to push around.”

Yao Chunfeng, his neck seemingly vanishing into his shoulders, nodded rapidly. “That’s right, that’s right, I’m just a useless nobody. Distinguished guests… how about I kowtow to all of you a few times instead? In the future, please, wave a kind hand my way now and then, look after me a little…”

Ai-yo, how embarrassing — Huo Wu Rong cut off his rambling. “Just stop talking already, aren’t you embarrassed at all? The good hour is almost past.”

With that, she turned and called out to Bai Ruyi: “Come here, son — come kowtow to your grandfather.”

Bai Ruyi walked over and knelt down solemnly, kowtowing to Yao Chunfeng and calling out “Grandfather.”

Yao Chunfeng, who’d been harboring plenty of petty suspicions in his heart, had been wondering whether his old son — who owned a storefront, a spacious five-room house in Yandu, and no shortage of silver — was now being bled dry by relatives showing up out of nowhere.

But the moment he saw the boy’s face, ah, he was satisfied.

Looking at Bai Ruyi’s face, it was clear Ninth Brother’s family had thought of everything — a child whose face was already marked would naturally be destined for a life outside officialdom anyway.

Pleased with this, Yao Chunfeng pulled out the small silver-mouthed, two-catty wine gourd he’d prepared in advance, bent down, and hung it around Bai Ruyi’s waist with a laugh. “Good! This boy’s good, heh heh, I like the look of him. Ah, what a match of fate.”

Then, turning to Huo Wu Rong, he said, “Old son, once you’ve formally taken him under your name, treat him well like your own true child, understand? This child has clear, bright eyes — I can tell he’s a good one. Don’t send him off running errands everywhere just yet, you’re still young yourself and have plenty of energy to spare. Our guild-head children may not sit for the imperial examinations, but they still need to read some books — send him to study, understand? He absolutely must read and understand principle.”

Huo Wu Rong smiled. “Yes, understood, Dad.”

Finally, some sensible words.

The way she called him “Dad” was genuine and heartfelt, and it was only at that moment that Qiqian’er truly felt, in her heart, that Wu Rong was no longer entirely part of the same family as her.

Patting Bai Ruyi’s head, Yao Chunfeng said with a smile, “Take a look, little grandson — with this gourd hanging on you, you’ll carry yourself with real dignity now, someone people will respect wherever you go. You’re our successor — from now on you have to make something of yourself, earn your mother and your grandfather here some good wine to drink.”

Bai Ruyi smiled and answered, “Yes, grandson will remember. From now on I’ll be filial to Mother and to Grandfather, and earn you both good wine to drink.”

That single word “grandson” struck something tender in Yao Chunfeng’s heart, and he laughed self-deprecatingly. “Heh, this is how fortune works — Heaven loves to hand things out sideways, like it’s playing a joke on you. Your grandfather here was never blessed with a true son of his own in this life — but no matter! You’re all good children.

“This gourd’s been passed down in my family for generations — a few well-made pieces like this are hard to find these days, everyone’s growing crops instead of raising gourds anymore. Just last night I stayed up sealing the wax on it myself, good child… don’t you dare let this leave your body, understand?”

Huo Wu Rong nodded too. “Mm, the inner city’s fine, but the outer city has plenty of rough sorts around. If people see this gourd when you’re out and about, they’ll know you’re our family’s child, and no one will dare touch you.”

Everyone admired the small, exquisite wine gourd with real fascination, and Bai Ruyi kept touching it too.

Yao Chunfeng patted Bai Ruyi’s head, his tone full of affection. “Once you’re grown, Grandfather will have a proper plaque carved for you. Us guild-head folk, if you ask what we lack in this life — well, we lack plenty. Is anyone ever truly satisfied? Heh, but the one thing we never lack is good wine to drink. Keep that gourd of yours hung steady, and when you’re grown and establish your own household, you’ll inherit your mother’s three-and-a-third catty one.

“And if you’re fortunate enough, who knows, maybe this one-catty gourd of mine will be yours too someday. But I’ll say the ugly truth plainly to you now, grandson — our guild-head family, for generations, has had to uphold three things: filial devotion, impartiality, sincerity. If you ever betray these…”

Before he could finish, Tang Jiuyuan, seated off to the side, let out a snort of laughter.

Only then did Yao Chunfeng remember that this fellow worked at the Ministry of Justice, and impartiality was practically his job description — what was Yao Chunfeng’s impartiality worth by comparison?

His old face flushed slightly.

Chang Lianfang, unable to stand this sourness, reached out, hooked an arm around his neck, and hauled him off to the side.

Bai Ruyi’s expression remained solemn and composed throughout. He first bowed respectfully in acceptance, then knelt again to kowtow to Yao Chunfeng — and once the man had accepted the bow and formally acknowledged him as family, a strange feeling welled up in his chest that he couldn’t quite name.

In less than a year, these two hands of his had first held a writing brush, then begged for food, then gripped a blade — and now they’d taken up a wine gourd… he had no idea what they’d hold next.

With the ceremony complete, a few more wine-accompanying dishes were brought out. Yao Chunfeng, emboldened by the fact that the Chen family clearly valued Wu Rong, took the seat of honor, placing himself in the position of an elder.

Just as Chen Dasheng picked up the wine jar to fill his cup, Yao Chunfeng proudly raised a hand, pulling out his own wine flask instead. “Gentlemen, we guild-head folk don’t have many fine things, but we do keep a bit of good wine set aside privately. Come, this one’s been passed down from my grandfather’s generation — everyone give it a try.”

With that, he uncorked the gourd and poured a round for everyone.

The wine truly was excellent — the moment it touched the cup, it was remarkably clear and transparent, with wine-foam rising to the surface.

Once everyone’s cups were filled, the old guild head raised his hand. “Gentlemen, what do you think?”

The old blades among them couldn’t tell good wine from bad, but when Chang Lianfang drank his down, he felt it slide smoothly down his throat first, then settle warmly in his stomach, and a wave of intensely pleasant warmth spread out — neither harsh nor astringent — that warmth swirling through his gut before transforming into countless threads of vitality, as if it had swept every trace of illness from his bloodstream before finally carrying the wine’s flavor back up through him.

As beads of cold sweat were forced out onto his skin, unable to contain the sheer pleasure of it, Chang Lianfang let out a cry: “Whew — now that’s good wine!”

With that, he reached out to take hold of the old guild head’s wine gourd.

But this man was too sharp for that — he flipped the gourd upside down at once, and not a single drop remained.

“Heh heh — all gone!”

Some people are simply born with a Buddha-like, easygoing face that people can’t help but like, and Chang Lianfang took a liking to this kind of character right away — without any regard for rank or status, he reached out, hooked an arm around the man’s neck, and said, “Don’t worry — I won’t say anything wild here in Yandu about matters of the imperial family or official duties, none of my business, I won’t touch that. But everything else — my name still carries a bit of weight, and I won’t even ask for much from you. How about one catty?”

Yao Chunfeng didn’t know Chang Lianfang, only Tang Jiuyuan.

Hearing this, he laughed and asked, “May I ask this distinguished lord’s honored name?”

Chang Lianfang grinned. “Heh, my father is Chang Mianshen…”

Seeing the men getting along so well, Huo Wu Rong bent down to pick up Bai Ruyi’s small bundle and said with a smile to Qiqian’er, “Once they start drinking, there’s no end to it. Come on, let’s head home?”

Qiqian’er scooped up Gennu’er and said, looking at Bai Ruyi, “All right, carry your brother along with you.”

A flicker passed through Bai Ruyi’s eyes, and quickly settling into a gentle smile, he bent down and picked up An’er, following the two women out.

They had only walked a few steps when he felt something warm and damp brushing repeatedly against his cheek — An’er was patting at his face, blowing on it earnestly, as if by the force of his own breath he could blow away that scar entirely.

Bai Ruyi laughed and said to the mother watching him, “…He, he, he kissed me, Mother.”

Wu Rong froze for a moment, then quickly lowered her head and gave a soft “mm,” tracing a few awkward circles on the ground with her foot before saying, somewhat bashfully, “Then — then let’s go take a look at the street corner, get the two of you some new clothes first…” She looked up again, seeking his opinion. “Sound good?”

Qiqian’er cut in, “What do you mean, buy clothes! Doesn’t my sewing room over there have plenty for the two of you already?”

But Huo Wu Rong didn’t respond to that. Instead, she said seriously to her son, “Her household is her household, our household is our household. Understand?”

Bai Ruyi smiled and nodded. “I understand… Mother!”

Her household is her household, our household is our household.

As they walked, old neighbors along the street greeted Huo Ninth Brother, and every time she ran into someone familiar, she’d introduce them earnestly: this is my sister, this is my son, this is my nephew…

Amid all the small, scattered chatter, Bai Ruyi’s smile grew warmer and gentler by the moment. He didn’t yet know that, in the days to come, he would become the finest scout in all of Daliang… and also the finest guild head this old city of Yandu had ever known. They would all come to call him “Half-Face Immortal.”

Leaving that new mother and son aside, back inside Ding Gu Temple, the men had already moved on to a new topic.

Only this time, oddly enough, Yao Chunfeng absolutely refused to sit in the seat of honor — he ended up relegated to the lowest seat instead, sweating anxious beads across his forehead.

Good heavens — seven marquises, one grand tutor’s son-in-law, and a young general from an earl’s household, a half-son-in-law of the emperor himself, and then there was him — a good-for-nothing street rascal, a hereditary side-gate-dealing guild head.

He’d only heard from Ninth Brother that they’d found her sister, and that the sister was some kind of official.

But looking at all these faces — none of them even seemed that old — why were they so intimidating?

Tsk, he really should have kept his mouth shut. By now he thoroughly regretted having revealed his family’s stash of good wine — his hidden fortune was as good as gone.

Among men drinking together, one couldn’t hold back — drink too much and the son becomes the father, the father becomes a brother.

After a few rounds of fine wine, Yao Chunfeng started off praising Chen Dasheng and the others lavishly — heroes, formidable men, the old blades unmatched under heaven, long live the emperor, and old Earl Chang’s army was truly a righteous force…

But once the wine really took hold, this fellow suddenly started rambling on about the heroes of old — perhaps triggered by Chen Dasheng mentioning that his whole group used to be “old blades.”

He said, “Hic~ this is a case of each dynasty having its own ministers — sometimes when you talk about heroes, you can’t just start from right here and now, you’ve got to, got to~ count all the way back through history. You young lords are still young, you probably only know today’s heroes, but if you want to talk about the heroes of the past, heh heh…

“This old guild-head fellow, I’m half a martial-world man myself, I’ve seen what needs seeing. These days those Jiu Si Tang heroes wandering the streets — I’ve seen plenty of them too, and honestly, I won’t say more than this — pretty ordinary, if you ask me, honestly nothing much at all! What do I know, right? Still, that Jiu Si Tang bunch just doesn’t measure up — truth be told, don’t repeat this outside… Wasn’t the temple up north the real place that raised true talent?”

Guan Si’er, who had a hearty appetite, was still gnawing on a braised goose leg by this point, and finding this remark odd, asked curiously, “Judging by what you’re saying, are you saying we don’t amount to much either?”

The drunk old guild head laughed. “Little brother — heh, hehe! You’re young, what do you think you amount to? Hic~ listen to your old brother here — a man who’s got a decent bowl of rice in front of him shouldn’t go chasing after the martial world’s bowl instead. Look at you, all fair and tender-skinned — what are you doing competing to be a hero? Is being a hero something just anyone can be?

“Mark my words, every hero eventually dies! And not a good death either! I mean it, everything else is fake, little brother — the only thing that’s real is still drawing breath, still being alive…

“Back in the day, the gates of the northern Huguo Temple stood so tall, the northern school of martial arts had twelve schools, and six of those schools traced their roots back to the imperial temple. Back then, on New Year’s Day, the incense and candles at Huguo Temple would rise sky-high — what grandeur, what magnificence! And now, just look at the people up on the martial stage these days — all just familiar hoodlums from around the capital, calling themselves — heroes?

“Pah! How could that compare to what the old imperial temple once had? Those people inside the imperial temple, now those were something else — you know Qianchu Pavilion’s Spear of the Fleeing Sword Guard? That old master — ah, what a shame, a truly remarkable man!

“You know his son-in-law, Prince Wuwei? The one from the Black Cavalry Guard? And his disciple, Green Luan Sword Valley’s Gu Hongyun? So many heroes passed through these streets in front of us once — I saw every one of them myself. Every hero dies eventually!”

This old guild head actually knew a fair amount about the figures of the previous dynasty, and hearing this, the others grew curious and set down their wine cups to listen.

They were all young men after all — how could they not be curious? Even the usually taciturn Chen Dasheng wanted to hear more; he himself was an old blade who’d crossed swords personally with the Black Cavalry Guard, and he’d long admired their chief instructor, Fang Xiangzheng, a great deal.

They’d all come up through the battlefield together — the previous dynasty had fallen, defeated by insufficient logistics, defeated by an emperor who’d lost his virtue, defeated by a court gorging itself like starving wolves and owls. If the Black Cavalry Guard had had backing from old Shao Shang loyalists like She Qingling and Li Zhang behind them, Tan Er alone could never have won.

The old guild head took a sip of wine and sighed. “Honestly, if you ask me, the current emperor — his character, well, that’s something…” He raised his thumb in genuine admiration. “But it’s not easy to forget the past either, is it — decades of it, and even in my dreams it’s still the old city gates. I’m not saying the current emperor isn’t good — he’s plenty good! I heard from an old soldier who lives in the neighborhood that our emperor was especially fond of Prince Fang back in the day — tried every way he could think of, wrote letters, sent countless people to persuade him, all just hoping to win him over to surrender…”

At this point, everyone turned to look at Chang Lianfang — this was something only he would know, since none of the rest of them had been at the emperor’s side back then.

Chang Lianfang thought about it and pursed his lips. “It wasn’t quite ‘countless,’ that’s an exaggeration — what do you take our emperor for? Back then General Tan Er was still around too, so… it was three times, but the man refused. Whatever his temperament was, once he refused, the emperor let it go.”

The old blades said nothing, but quietly let out a breath of relief inside — thank goodness the man had refused to yield even in death; otherwise, if the Black Cavalry Guard had come over, there wouldn’t have been any place left for the old blades at all.

The old blades’ style of fighting had always been too brutal and costly — the truly sustainable method of warfare, one that could hold up over a long campaign, was still the Black Cavalry Guard’s approach.

Yao Chunfeng, long past the point of hearing anyone else, laughed to himself. “Our Daliang, you know, it’s not that far removed from the old days — the memories are right there, close enough to touch, and we still think back on them often. Our old Prince… ah, there’s no more prince now, they’re all rebels of the former dynasty~ tsk, sometimes I can’t even tell good from bad anymore. You gentlemen are all men of learning and insight — there’s something that’s been troubling me, I wonder if you could help set my thinking straight, would that be all right?”

He glanced around at everyone and finally looked toward Lord Chen, bowing respectfully. “Would that be all right?”

Chen Dasheng nodded — what was there not to be all right about? Just drunken talk.

Seeing Chen Dasheng nod, Yao Chunfeng sniffed and continued, “Gentlemen, the common people, the folk living around the foot of the imperial city, are different from outsiders. After our Daliang emperor took the throne, he tallied up the crimes of the previous dynasty — I know, just that business with the fish-canal alone, they deserved to lose the nation. But why couldn’t a good man like our Prince Fang be allowed to live?”

Chen Dasheng asked, curious, “Prince Fang — what kind of man was he?”

Yao Chunfeng thought back. “…The prince, ah, I remember, when I was little my father used to take me to watch the old city gates for excitement. Actually, every boy in Yandu grew up watching the Black Cavalry Guard.

“Back then, whenever they returned late from drills, the Black Cavalry Guard wouldn’t dare disturb the common folk, so several hundred men would come home with their horses’ hooves wrapped in cloth, sneaking in quietly. I was mischievous back then, and somehow I wandered right into the middle of the cavalry column — and before I even realized what was happening, someone had scooped me up onto a horse, and I bawled my eyes out in fright… Those were good days too, back then. But how could a perfectly good nation just — vanish, like that?”

That crying child, carried on horseback down half a street by a general, had sworn to himself that day that if he ever grew up, he too would one day become one of those magnificent Black Cavalry Guard soldiers. But he’d grown too plump, and being the son of a guild head besides, the path to military service had been closed to him from the start.

And so, this remained the finest memory of this old guild head’s entire life — which showed that, across the generations of people in Yandu, there really was a deep and lingering affection for the former dynasty.

Tang Jiuyuan sighed helplessly, picked up his wine cup, took a sip, and said, “That’s exactly why Master She advised the emperor that it would have been simpler to just establish the capital at Shao Shang instead of dealing with all this trouble now. But our emperor said that a palace takes dozens of generations of craftsmen pouring their lives into its upkeep, and Daliang couldn’t afford to waste that — so we settled for living in someone else’s old house instead.”

Chen Dasheng nodded. “Exactly. These days, whenever the emperor mentions wanting to leave the palace, all of us break out in a cold sweat. Who knows what the people living here in Yandu are really thinking? One wrong move and it could haunt us for a lifetime. It’s gotten better these past two years — but back at the very beginning, at the south gate, you couldn’t even tell where some slingshot pellet flying in from who-knows-where had come from…”

Chang Lianfang sighed. “When it comes down to it, the emperor’s family lives right here, and yet we don’t even maintain the fish-canals for the people living around here… The scholars in the palace say that in the old days, when heavy snow fell on the capital, the previous dynasty used to subsidize roof repairs for the people. Our Daliang simply doesn’t have that kind of resources these days — no wonder people speak fondly of them, especially the old folks of Yandu.”

One table of food, two clusters of men, and both groups found themselves pleading the emperor’s case in their own way.

The old guild head muttered to himself for a while, and finally concluded, “Ah! Honestly, it doesn’t matter who ends up as emperor — as far as we common folk are concerned… the Dark Emperor wasn’t worth much, but our Prince Fang was a good man, the most righteous and loyal soul under heaven — no matter how you look at it, he didn’t deserve the end he got.”

Fang Xiangzheng had died in the final battle within the palace of Daliang — fierce and unyielding, he’d taken dozens of arrows and still stood upright with spear in hand, his great head finally severed by that repulsive man Tan Shiyuan.

In the end he was tossed outside the city walls and buried without ceremony; the emperor, to his credit, had at least allowed a simple coffin for the burial.

In truth, over the years, things had gone well enough elsewhere, and the hearts of the people had gradually shifted to favor the new dynasty. But Yandu remained Yandu — every so often, the government offices in the capital would still catch people quietly holding private memorials for Fang Xiangzheng.

Beyond those quiet memorials, the friction between the old and new dynasties had, in truth, never fully stopped — there were assassins seeking to avenge the previous dynasty by killing the emperor, people raising rebel flags here and there trying to restore the old regime… these were the lesser concerns, since sooner or later such efforts would simply run out of steam.

What troubled the emperor and his ministers most these days was something else entirely: scholars loyal to the former dynasty, scattered across the land, who kept writing poems and lengthy odes to commemorate certain figures from the past.

These written things were the most dangerous of all — emperors, all of them, would eventually die and rot away, but the written word endured through the ages.

Everyone at this table held real power in their hands, and with just a moment’s thought, they could all see where this was headed — if this kept stirring up trouble, something like literary persecution wasn’t far off.

The men at the table fell silent again, and after a long while, Chen Dasheng finally said, “What if I go back and mention it to my father, have him bring it up to the emperor — have Fang Xiangzheng’s grave properly restored? What do you all think?”

After all, the people of Yandu were fond of him.

Chang Lianfang shook his head. “Don’t. You come from the Tan family’s military background — there’s too much bad blood in that history! If anyone’s going to bring it up, let your father-in-law do it…”

Tang Jiuyuan waved his hand dismissively. “My father-in-law has plenty of bad blood with that side too — more than twenty of his own students were executed by a thousand cuts on their side. There’s no way, forget it, don’t even think about it!”

Chen Dasheng fell silent. In truth, no one understood better than he did that, given Fang Xiangzheng’s ties to the northern Huguo Temple, the emperor would sooner or later need to make use of Gu Hongyun and others like her in order to stabilize the hearts of the people. It served two purposes for the emperor: first, to demonstrate his own magnanimity, and second, to balance the tensions between the old Shao Shang loyalists and the former dynasty’s remaining loyalists.

But whether Gu Hongyun’s arrival in the capital would prove to be a good thing or a bad one — one only had to look at Tang Jiuyuan’s reaction to see just how deep those tensions still ran.