Outside the Wenshen Temple, the carriages and horses were not far off, yet no sound of their conversation could be heard from there.

Gu Hongyun, bringing Quan’er with him, said his farewells to Qiqian’er.

Qiqian’er smiled and returned the courtesy, though what she said was: “After we part today, from now on, let’s consider ourselves strangers.”

Gu Hongyun of course understood her meaning: “Naturally, that’s how it should be. Our identities are sensitive, and we dare not bring trouble upon our benefactor. Then let us part ways here—may our benefactor live a long life, with boundless fortune and blessing.”

Qiqian’er smiled and nodded: “The same to you. This world is bitter enough without feeding yourself more bitterness—if you won’t even let yourself off the hook, then you’ll have suffered through this life for nothing. From now on, when troubles come, try to see things more openly. Otherwise, what else can be done… after all, the children are still so young—no matter how much wrong is done to you, you must bear with it, for their sake.”

Seeing the small child’s face full of admiration and attachment, Qiqian’er in the end gave him a bit more guidance.

Gu Hongyun looked moved, bowed again in thanks, then rose and hesitated before saying: “There’s something I nearly forgot… Benefactor, let me put it this way—we’ve had old grievances with the Tan family, since in the past we each served different masters, and if I speak of it, it might seem like I’m trying to stir up trouble.”

Qiqian’er looked puzzled: “Go ahead and say it.”

Gu Hongyun said: “Back when the Jiu Si Tang first rose to prominence in Yanjing at the martial arts stage, your husband immediately accepted the challenge notice from Yuegong Mountain—isn’t that right?”

Qiqian’er nodded: “That did happen. Could it be that this has something to do with the Tan family?”

Gu Hongyun said: “It’s not just related—there are matters of the martial world that our benefactor may not know, but we do. For several hundred years, Yuegong Mountain has had patrons, and we’ve always known who they were, because these patrons also supported the old recluses of my own Qianchu Pavilion. But after the change of dynasty, most of these patrons found their family fortunes in decline and could no longer afford to sponsor them… Now, the only ones who could afford to hire someone like Pang Tu are the Tan family.”

Qiqian’er suddenly thought of someone and asked: “Does Uncle Xin know about this?”

Gu Hongyun said: “Sponsorship is something the Beggars’ Sect has never accepted, since time immemorial—they live on alms from a hundred households. Besides, this matter is kept secret within each family, and the old recluses all want to keep their patronage to themselves—why would they spread word of such a thing? Even within my own Qianchu Pavilion, only my master and I know of it.”

Only then did Qiqian’er feel at ease in her heart, and she nodded: “I understand…” Then, recalling something else, she asked: “Does His Majesty know of this?”

Gu Hongyun thought carefully before answering: “Perhaps not. If he knew, he couldn’t possibly still employ Meng Dingchen. As you well know, in the past, most of the martial world looked to the Northern Huguo Temple as its leader—Meng Dingchen is from the Southern Huguo Temple.

Emperor Wu is a man with the talent of a commanding general, but not the talent of an emperor. To this day, the methods he uses to govern the country are all drawn from military command—trust those you employ, don’t employ those you distrust, and he can share hardship with his subordinates and face danger before them. But an emperor should not govern this way. Thus, a golden age is never judged by its founding emperor—it depends on the solid foundation those founders lay down. If a golden age is to come, it will depend on the methods of the second or third generation of emperors, since governing a nation is not the work of a single morning, but a long, drawn-out process.”

He tapped his own head as he spoke, pouring out his heart completely, and Qiqian’er laughed: “Thank you for the guidance—you certainly know a great deal.”

Hearing this, Gu Hongyun’s face showed a touch of self-deprecating bitter laughter: “That’s true enough—after all, I’ve spent several hundred years chanting sutras before the imperial throne. Well then, let me respectfully see our benefactor off.”

This time, he truly did walk away briskly.

Only once Qiqian’er’s carriage was out of sight did Gu Hongyun hear Quan’er murmur: “Auntie~!”

Gu Hongyun reached out his large hand, stroking his nephew’s head and said with a smile: “If you want to be by your aunt’s side one day, then train yourself hard. But don’t be like your father, and don’t follow in your uncle-in-law’s ways either.”

Quan’er asked curiously: “Then who should I be like?”

“Ugh… I… I’d like to know that myself…”

In the eleventh month of the sixth year of Yong’an, the Chen family came out of mourning. Huo Qiqian and Chen Dasheng’s second son, Chen Changhuan, was born in the twelfth month. Since the parents had no great expectations for this child, wishing only that he live his whole life happy and carefree, his great-grandmother Old Madam Chen bestowed upon him the childhood name Gaoxing (Happy).

The sixth year of Yong’an was a fruitful year—past the tenth month, it seemed everyone had agreed together to start having children. Second Aunt Ma had a son, Cui Erdian had a son, Chen Dayong had a son.

Children being born in clusters was nothing unusual, since it depended on who lived in the area—after all, the men of Qinwei Lane were all in the prime of their years, newly married. Not just this year—likely for the next ten years, life in Qinwei Lane would revolve around having children.

With children arriving together, more than one at a time became commonplace—these several families even held the three-day bath, fifteen-day, and full-month celebrations together, and the feasts were all hosted jointly.

With several new mothers all in confinement at once, no matter how capable the households of Qinwei Lane were, they couldn’t manage to hold all these events every single day—first, it would exhaust everyone’s energy and truly become unsustainable; second, if guests came calling every few days, however the outside visitors might feel about it, the families themselves found it thoroughly tiresome.

So it was simpler to just hold them all together.

That day, Chen Dasheng received an urgent summons to report to Yanjing, and had to go on duty again.

So, at the crack of dawn, Qiqian’er rose early and had someone bring out the imperially bestowed Xiezhi Mountain pattern armor for Chen Dasheng, helping him put it on with her own hands.

This armor had been specially made by the Ministry of Works for the Long Blade Camp, crafted from fine rhinoceros hide and refined iron, the armor plates lacquered black and inlaid with gold and silver. The shoulder guards and belly guard were both single-horned golden Xiezhi beasts—quite different from the sort of armor ordinary military officers wore.

The armor was extremely imposing and beautiful. It was one of several improved armors specially made by the Ministry of Works for the Imperial Guard after the founding of Great Liang—while reducing its overall weight, this armor incorporated certain techniques sent over from Gaofeixi’ao (a foreign region), improving its defensive strength by more than half.

Bending slightly, using both hands with force, she fastened the waist guard around Chen Dasheng’s waist. Chen Dasheng, feeling this, praised her: “Heh, still my wife who fastens my armor best.”

These days he’d really learned to talk sweetly.

Qiqian’er laughed, and reaching up, helped fasten his last two arm guards, then led him to sit before the dressing mirror to tie up his hair and put on his hair net.

Having his wife comb his hair was a peculiar affectation of Chen Dasheng’s own style—whenever he went out, if his wife was home, his armor had to be fastened by her, and his hair had to be combed by her too.

Qiqian’er quite enjoyed doing this as well.

Every day she had to smooth her husband’s hair, and every day she also found herself envying Chen Dasheng’s fine head of hair—so black, thick, and sleek, that grabbing a handful of it gave that thick, substantial feeling. Even as she envied it in her heart, she would still mock him each time: “A fool with such thick hair!”

In the bronze mirror across from her, twenty-six-year-old Chen Dasheng’s face was handsome and refined—though he couldn’t compare to someone as extraordinarily good-looking as Hu Yougui, he was still the kind of striking, elegant man who got a mention whenever handsome men were discussed at court.

Unlike the roughness typical of ordinary military men, six years steeped in the soup of wealth, prestige, and power had instead cultivated in him a certain air of distant-mountain, clear-breeze refinement. The murderous aura of the past was gone, and the foolish, unworldly awkwardness he’d once had was long since shed. Having spent so much time around his father, he’d picked up the habit of narrowing his eyes when looking at people, always smiling with crinkled eyes, adding a touch of careless, lazy, cat-like charm.

Hearing his wife mock him again, Chen Dasheng was about to say something, when he heard the child sleeping soundly on the heated platform bed suddenly giggle a few times.

This was a naturally happy child.

Chen Dasheng laughed too: “This little one’s name really wasn’t chosen wrong—who knows what good dream he’s having, laughing out loud in his sleep all day long.”

Qiqian’er looked fondly toward the head of the bed too: “This is Grandmother’s spirit visiting him in his sleep, making him happy.”

Chen Dasheng nodded seriously: “That’s good indeed—far better than Third Brother’s household. Look how Third Brother’s been tormented, he doesn’t even dare come home anymore.”

Hearing this, Qiqian’er both laughed and felt sympathy.

That child of Chen Dayong’s was a night-crier—slept all day and wailed all night. After the couple had suffered enough torment, they’d given him the retaliatory name Changxiao (Long Wail), and Grandmother, seeing how much trouble this child caused, bestowed on him the childhood name Naoteng (Ruckus).

Speaking of the names given to these Chen family children, honestly there wasn’t much thought put into any of them—none of them were scholars, and no one bothered asking anyone else, so the names were rather casual.

The girls were all named by Grandmother after fruits. Chen Dazhong’s daughter’s formal name was Peach; Chen Dayi’s was Apricot; Chen Dayong’s was Fruit—for the sake of sounding nicer, they all had “er” added to the end.

By the time it came to the sons, things got even more amusing. Following the naming pattern by branch of the family, they were Chen Changyi, Chen Changxi, Chen Changxiao, Chen Changhuan.

The Chen family valued the meaning of lasting continuity, and since this was early in the family’s rise to prominence, there was also the meaning of the eldest son, eldest grandson carried within it.

The formal names were fine enough—the real issue was the childhood names Grandmother had called out for each of them, which had become a favorite topic of gossip throughout Qinwei Lane and even Quanhou Street, with no shortage of talk behind their backs.

Chen Changyi was of the eldest branch—eldest son, eldest grandson, eldest great-grandson. Grandmother, overexcited, wanting even more grandchildren, had named this child Doulai (All Come).

Chen Dayi’s child had been born with a severe deficiency of the water element in his Five Elements chart, so he was named Chen Changxi (Stream), and Grandmother, thinking that since he lacked water, might as well let it flow freely—so this child’s childhood name was Huahua, as in the sound of flowing water, “hua hua.”

As for Chen Dayong and Chen Dasheng’s children, there’s no need to even mention it—one was Ruckus, the other was Happy.

Put together, the names of these four great-grandsons formed the phrase: “Everyone come flow babbling in the stream and make a ruckus”—and after that, everyone would be happy.

It hadn’t been intentional—purely coincidental.

With Gaoxing sleeping on the bed, these two thoughtless parents thought of this again and laughed together.

Once his hair was tied up and the net put on, Chen Dasheng picked up the Xiezhi mask and headed outside. This mask was also new, dark gold in color, its surface inlaid with gold filigree patterns—thoroughly imposing and beautiful.

Ever since their mother had given birth to their little brother, Gennu’er and An’er had been moved to the west room next door. Knowing that their father was going to report back to duty in Yanjing today, the two children had also gotten up early.

They sat quietly in the outer hall, waiting for their parents.

Once their father and mother came out, the children got down from their chairs and, in their sweet childish voices, performed the proper greetings, then asked whether their little brother had given their mother any trouble the night before.

Their mother said no, and they praised their little brother through the doorway for being good.

The household’s old patriarch, when it came to raising children, was quite skilled indeed—in just these few months, these two children already carried themselves with proper etiquette.

After greeting their parents, the children began asking all sorts of questions, and the parents crouched down earnestly, looking them in the eye to answer, even though the children might ask the same question over and over—each time they answered solemnly, without a trace of impatience.

Being parents, they too were learning and growing.

Finally, someone outside called out that the other Old Blades were all ready and just waiting for Chen Dasheng to come out. Chen Dasheng smiled, then bent down and tucked one child under each arm, heading outside.

Father wearing his imposing armor, taking them out this way—this was a feeling the children loved, and they giggled all the way.

Once they were out the courtyard gate, well now! Yu Qingguan’s two sons were there to see him off at the gate. Tong Jintai had his child’s amulet hanging around his neck—an amulet being an omen, and in the Tong family’s eyes, it was a sign of heaven’s will, meaning: such a fine child, come to our family.

But Grandmother, in her mischief, had gone and nicknamed him Big Bronze Hammer, since his father’s surname was Tong (same character as “bronze/copper”).

Cui Erdian’s son Cui Guan sat on horseback, being spun around in circles by his father on the ground—also a bit of mischief, since Erdian’s meaning carried the sense of a door latch, so “Guan” meant to lock him in place so he wouldn’t leave.

But Grandmother, mischievous again, said: why lock up a perfectly good child, let him run wild outside—won’t he grow taller catching the wind? Why cage him up? So, delighted with herself, she’d given the child the nickname Big Open Door.

Anyway, this “door” existed in name only—no one could even say whether it was meant to be open or shut.

Second Aunt Ma’s child hadn’t even been carried outside yet but hadn’t escaped the same wicked hand—or rather, wicked mouth.

His family had chosen the meaning of brightness and given him the formal name Ma Xiliang, but Grandmother called him Big Forehead, and had quite the argument to justify it too—oh, this child’s forehead is so big and bright, he’s sure to be clever in the future.

After that, Guan Si’er and Hu Yougui both swore an oath: if they ever had children, they would absolutely give them their childhood names somewhere far outside the house before bringing them back home.

What was all this anyway—a Big Bronze Hammer opening up to reveal a Big Forehead?

In any case, this was how things went. No one quite remembered who had started the custom, but whenever the fathers left home on official duty, the sons and wives would stand at the gate to see them off.

This later became a tradition of Qinwei Lane as well.

The fathers, finally abandoning the group of wailing, crying children, mounted their horses—and what a sight it was, spears like divine steeds, long blades strapped to their backs, golden masks solemn, cloaks billowing. And it wasn’t just them—behind them followed a good many personal guards without masks, wearing brand new black armor trimmed in gold.

Just like that, a great crowd swept past in a rush, like morning mist in the early dawn.

Along this route, any man who caught sight of them, no matter his age, felt his very soul shaken with awe, filled with genuine admiration—truly, a great man ought to be just like this.

Once they entered Yanjing, they headed straight toward the southern palace gate. When they arrived, the southern gate hadn’t yet opened; only a handful of senior officials were waiting there.

Since it wasn’t the first or fifteenth of the month—not a grand court session—it was only the small morning court, and needed only to arrive by the early hour; there weren’t many people there either.

By the time Chen Dasheng and the others arrived, Chang Lianfang was already there as well. Now that his injuries had healed, for the sake of propriety, he had to return to stay at the Marquis’s residence for a while.

He was now right at the tail end of his wife’s full-term pregnancy, nearly through the wait.

Though it was said they were going to court, this father and son had come out ahead of the others, standing outside the southern gate waiting, until Chen Dasheng and his group all arrived. Chang Lianfang then came over grinning to take hold of his elder brother’s horse reins.

Chen Dasheng dismounted, removed his mask, and smiled at him: “You got here early, huh?”

Chang Lianfang laughed too: “We’re diligent folk, heh heh, and my wife gets up early too…” He glanced around, then leaned in to whisper by Chen Dasheng’s ear: “Brother, these past few days, your father’s been staying in the outer palace.”

Chen Dasheng already knew this, and said: “Right, it’s been a while since he sat down with His Majesty too—His Majesty’s been missing him, wants to bring him in to stay for a few days before the New Year.”

Chang Lianfang, still keeping his voice low, said: “Brother, if I were you, I’d take Prince Wang out of there.”

Hearing him say this, Chen Dasheng knew something had happened.

This man rarely brought his official duties home to complain about—matters of duty were handled at their post; bringing them home to grumble about wouldn’t solve anything, and would only burden the family’s elders and womenfolk with worry, so why bother mentioning it?

In truth, since the end of last year, assassins had kept turning up in the palace. Some of it stemmed from grudges created by Jiu Si Tang’s mishandling of affairs. Some of it was simply that certain people, having eaten their fill and no longer anxious for survival, had recovered enough to start stirring up trouble again.

And this kind of trouble was clearly connected to shifting hearts and minds.

Many former officials of the previous dynasty had surrendered and joined the new court. Whether they were doing well or poorly aside, the pressure on them was still considerable—after all, they had once eaten from the previous dynasty’s rice bowl, and now served as officials of the new one.

Some people couldn’t bear the pressure, and this sort of after-the-fact reaction driven by reputation or conscience had long been anticipated.

Throughout every dynasty in history, it was nothing unusual at all for a newly enthroned emperor to face a few assassination attempts. So no matter how many Chen Dasheng had fended off, how many he had killed, he wouldn’t mention it.

Besides, whenever he was on duty, he was always at the emperor’s side, and so received the most attacks.

Chen Dasheng lowered his head to adjust his horse’s girth strap, and asked in a lowered voice: “What happened? I was just saying, usually at least one side gate is open around here by this hour—today it’s still this late.”

Chang Lianfang, his arm resting on his horse’s rump, looked toward the southern gate and said: “Yesterday after court, His Majesty summoned several senior officials from the Ministry of Works to ask about the renovation of the capital’s sewage system. These old sewer lines in the capital have housed how many generations of people already—every rainy season, the whole place reeks, sewage splattering everywhere.

This wasn’t even funds allocated at the end of summer—the project had already begun, and when the senior officials were summoned, they had a few of their subordinate officials bring the relevant registers along to answer questions. Who could have guessed that one of these officials suddenly pulled a short blade from his boot and tried to assassinate the emperor!”

Chen Dasheng’s expression changed on hearing this, and he asked seriously: “Is His Majesty safe?”

Chang Lianfang laughed, his face full of pride: “Brother, what were you thinking? That was just some powerless pencil-pushing official—the assassination was clearly done on impulse, and he even shouted something about avenging the You Emperor. In the end, he barely managed to wave his blade twice before our Emperor kicked him clean across the room.

Our Emperor came up through the ranks as a Grand Marshal, a man who personally led armies into battle himself—do these people think our Emperor is some You Emperor, a foolish ruler who only cared for women?”

Chen Dasheng laughed too: “That’s true enough. It’s been, what, five or six years now—people forget over time, I suppose. But that was just a low-ranking official from the Ministry of Works—there are plenty with the skill, but few with real insight. We still don’t know where he was even recruited from—maybe someone stirred him up. Has he been interrogated yet?”

Chang Lianfang pursed his lips: “Who knows. He’s in the Ministry of Justice’s prison right now, and it happened to be on Elder Liu’s shift—he got so furious he personally took action himself…” He pointed at his own front teeth and made a pulling gesture: “Said he was worried the assassin would kill himself to avoid interrogation, so he personally yanked out six of the man’s teeth, one by one with his fingers, tsk!”

Chen Dasheng’s face remained expressionless: “Biting through one’s own tongue to commit suicide happens too, you know.”

Chang Lianfang licked his lips: “Heh heh, and that’s not even the end of it. Just a few hours later, His Majesty had the Ministry of Personnel send in their background files. The assassin turned out to have been recommended for his post by someone—that’s how low-level officials in the Ministry of Works are usually recruited, after all. And get this—when the files were carried in by box, someone else, also from the former dynasty, tried to attack as well!”

Chen Dasheng let out a long breath and looked at Chang Lianfang: “Is Liu Daya eating garbage for brains or something?”

Chang Lianfang snorted with laughter: “Heh! What are you even saying? The man got anxious and rushed straight to the Ministry of Justice—truly, this time he’s bound to get some blame for it. The would-be assassin was a sixth-rank Main Clerk official—two assassination attempts in a single day, and these are all court officials, mind you… oh, he’s here.”

Before he finished speaking, he’d already spotted Chang Mianshen’s carriage approaching from a distance.

After that incident, his two elder brothers had both been assigned to outside postings, following the Ministry of War generals to patrol the borders.

Even when they were in Yanjing, their actual posts weren’t high enough to attend court anyway.

So Chang Mianshen got out of the carriage alone. Once out, he didn’t immediately step down, but looked around first, and upon spotting Chang Lianfang, waited for him to come over and raise a hand to help him before smiling and descending the carriage in a display of “father’s kindness, son’s filial devotion.”

These days, it truly had become like putting on airs for strangers between them.

Chang Lianfang personally brought over the footstool for Marquis Chang, helping him down, and asked: “You look quite well today.”

Chang Mianshen also smiled: “Ah, well enough. Mostly it’s your mother’s cooking—and speaking of which, she was asking about you too. You’re the type who can’t sit still, coming out this early just to catch the morning chill?”

Chang Lianfang smiled, honest and somewhat sheepishly foolish: “Ah well, my brother’s returning to his post today, so I came early to greet him…”

Just as he spoke, Chen Dasheng arrived, greeting Marquis Chang with proper etiquette, and supporting him by the other arm with a smile: “Godfather, you’re looking well today.”

This too was rather a formality.

Chang Mianshen no longer insisted on more than that these days, and nodded with a smile: “Ah, all the troublemakers have left, haven’t they—my daughter-in-law’s taken the children to the mountains for a vegetarian retreat, so my heart’s at ease, and I’ve been sleeping soundly, so my spirits are good too. Oh, your brother told me your second child is fair-skinned and chubby, with fine-looking features too—is that right? Your godmother isn’t in Yanjing, but did the things she prepared arrive safely?”

Chen Dasheng thanked him: “Thank you both for troubling yourselves over us—everything arrived. On the fifteenth day when we carried him out, he was dressed head to toe in what Godmother sent, and everyone said he looked lovely.”

Marquis Chang was pleased, and laughed heartily: “That’s because your godmother specially had the finest needlework done for it. Oh! Since your father’s staying in the palace, perhaps you should go visit him at home these next few days.”

Outside the Great Liang palace, in the old courtyard where She Qingling used to live, Zhang Minwang knelt stiffly upright in the courtyard along with several chief eunuchs from the Directorate of Twenty-Four.

In front of them lay several large bundles of aconite root, along with other medicinal herbs like Solomon’s seal, scattered on the ground.

She Qingling, dressed in white inner robes, hair loose and disheveled, was drinking tea, and as he drank he sneered coldly: “How very interesting. Bringing even a single tael of aconite root into the Imperial Physician’s Bureau requires three procedures and four inspections to pass, double-locked storage, and the seal of three medicine officials before it can even be prepared. And then two Imperial Physicians must attend the medicine before it can reach a noble’s mouth—all of this, I taught you myself… And it’s only been a few days, and look at this—whose entire clan were you planning to wipe out?”

One of the eunuchs was trembling with fear, and Zhang Minwang lifted his head slightly to plead: “Old Ancestor…”

She Qingling snorted coldly to cut him off: “Shut your mouth! Only now that something this serious has happened do you think to call me your ancestor? Who is your ancestor? I think you’re the one who should be calling yourself that.”

He leaned his body forward with a smile, and Zhang Minwang shrank back in fear, tears nearly flying from his eyes in terror.