The eighth day of the twelfth month, first year of Yong’an. Heavy snow.

Early that morning, Chief Steward Liu came to ask Chen Dasheng if he could help cover half a shift at the East Gate, as the Imperial Guard was short-handed.

Chen Dasheng went, and it opened his eyes yet again. An endless line of ox carts, loaded full with ice blocks, made their way from Mount Baiquan into the palace. The stream of carts ran continuously the entire morning.

It was only then that he learned wealthy families used ice in summer, and that the ice had to be cut from riverbeds specifically on the day of Heavy Snow to be properly stored.

He hadn’t known this world had so many seasonal solar terms—terms meant purely for people of refinement to observe. Before, he’d only known about the New Year, but now he understood the palace alone had seven or eight different customs just for the Heavy Snow term.

Today the Emperor had to rise early to lead the princes to the ancestral temple for sacrifice; today they also weren’t allowed to sweep the snow, and people of standing had to eat a bowl of hot porridge to mark the occasion, more or less.

And so, on duty, Chen Dasheng and his brothers ate the hot porridge sent over by the young eunuchs.

Several young eunuchs came hurrying over carrying food boxes from the imperial kitchen, having crossed nearly the entire palace, yet when the covered bowls of porridge were taken out, they were still steaming hot.

Chen Dasheng peeked inside and, sure enough, found a small copper container at the bottom of the box with burning charcoal keeping it warm.

What a life he was living these days…

He’d never known before that a single bowl of porridge could contain so many things—beans of five colors, rice too, along with longan, red dates, and walnuts all mixed together, gritty and sweet and sticky, absolutely delicious.

Chen Dasheng drank two whole bowls, and even told the young eunuch he wanted the same thing tonight. The eunuch smiled and agreed.

Indeed, Chen Dasheng now had the standing, within the palace, to request specific dishes.

Of course, even given the chance to choose, all he’d ever ask for was meat dishes—he only knew meat was delicious. If it weren’t for eating alongside his teacher every day, he wouldn’t even know how many delicious things existed in this world! Shriveled dried fruit was no longer something he ever saw; he could eat juicy pears and other fresh fruit freely.

The Emperor still needed someone to taste his food for poison first; Chen Dasheng didn’t bother with that, simply grabbing and eating—he could put away over a dozen at a sitting. Only his teacher told him not to overeat, saying that these things came with great difficulty, each one paid for in blood and tears, step by step, so after that he ate more sparingly.

She Banban, feeling for him, kept aside any good things he had for himself, saving them all for Chen Dasheng…

Of course, Chen Dasheng cared for his teacher just as much. Every day he rose early, arriving before the ministers entered the palace, to fetch his teacher from the small courtyard.

His teacher was stubborn and refused to sit in the palace-provided sedan chair. Now, with the snow so heavy, Chen Dasheng carried his teacher on his back to the front hall for duty, and once his own shift ended, he’d go fetch him again and carry him back.

Later, his teacher, feeling for him, finally began sitting in a warm covered sedan chair, but Chen Dasheng still ran alongside it regardless—no matter how cold, whatever the weather, he insisted on accompanying him to and from.

His wife had told him: treat your teacher as you would your own father, with filial devotion.

This master and disciple pair looked after each other with utter sincerity, each giving all they had.

They themselves felt they were simply teacher and student, but the palace didn’t see it that way—even the Emperor himself considered Chen Dasheng to be She Banban’s adopted son. After all, She Banban was a man who looked down on everyone, proud and aloof by nature; it wasn’t for lack of people wanting to be his son—he simply looked down on all of them.

Then one day, when Chen Dasheng entered the palace, he found that the eunuchs had started calling him “Little Ancestor.”

Chen Dasheng mentioned to She Banban that he wasn’t used to this, and She Banban didn’t encourage the nickname either, but the Emperor seemed to be deliberately pushing, as if eager to formally establish some kind of status for him.

And so, day by day, Chen Dasheng found himself drawn into a certain circle, and one day discovered he was even permitted into the back palace, where the female officials and palace maids too began privately calling him “Little Ancestor.”

Empress Dowager Zheng often summoned him, and once there, she’d say nothing, simply gazing at him until tears came—just like the very first time, when the old lady had cried until she nearly fainted.

Now, she mostly summoned him to ask after She Banban’s wellbeing, urging him to be filial and take good care of him.

Being filial was certainly something he intended to do, but as for the outside claim that Empress Dowager Zheng had taken him as her grandnephew, Chen Dasheng didn’t accept that, and his teacher wouldn’t allow him to accept it either.

In any case, his teacher never went to see Empress Dowager Zheng, refusing even her formal decrees without the slightest hesitation.

Chen Dasheng now wanted to claim that same privilege for himself, seeing how the old lady’s tears never seemed to end—nothing like the stern reputation people spoke of outside.

Not even a month had passed, yet Chen Dasheng found his eyes opened anew almost daily. Just now, having finished his shift and walked only a short distance, Steward Sun, who managed the Bureau of Apparel in the back palace, blocked his path along with two elderly matrons.

Chen Dasheng, resigned, spread his arms wide, and the two matrons measured him from head to toe.

Steward Sun glanced at the measurements and laughed: “Little Ancestor has put on some weight recently.”

Chen Dasheng rubbed his own stomach, shaking his head helplessly: “Don’t call me that, how old am I even! How could I not gain weight—stuffed with good food every single day, wouldn’t be right not to gain a little, given how delicious it all is!”

Steward Sun laughed: “That’s a good thing! If Old Ancestor knew you’d gained weight, he’d be delighted.”

Chen Dasheng lowered his arms, resigned: “My teacher doesn’t even like it when I overeat. And you all—what’s the occasion this time?”

Steward Sun laughed again: “It’s almost the Minor New Year, and then the Great New Year right after—and this year is our Daliang’s very first one, don’t you think?”

True enough—Daliang’s first New Year. Both inside and outside the palace, everyone was quietly putting in effort to make it a dignified, impressive occasion.

Once Steward Sun had finished packing up and prepared to leave, Chen Dasheng couldn’t help but add: “Ordinary cloth is fine, no need for silk. My allowance is handled through the Personal Guard office—go there for the silver.”

The matrons exchanged glances and laughed together, saying they understood, though of course they had no intention of complying—it was just a few sets of cloth garments, after all.

This Little Ancestor was remarkably easy to serve—never troubled anyone, ate whatever was given, and regarding clothing had only one demand: cloth only. No matter how exquisitely made, how luxurious the silk or brocade garments offered to him, he’d send them back untouched. Refuse to wear them, simply refuse—just as stubborn as his adoptive father.

He was simply that genuine a person, with an easy, sweet-melon sort of face, smiling at everyone regardless, never once using his adoptive father’s influence to look down on anyone, let alone cause trouble for others.

And so, he became the most beloved figure among the Six Bureaus and One Office.

The Six Bureaus and One Office referred to the territory of the female officials in the back palace of the Daliang court—the Bureau of Palace Affairs, Bureau of Ceremonies, Bureau of Apparel, Bureau of Provisions, Bureau of Bedchamber Affairs, Bureau of Handicrafts, and the Office of Discipline.

One palace, two parallel systems—one of eunuchs, one of female officials.

Chen Dasheng continued on his way, now heading toward Dongming Hall where the Emperor conducted his affairs—a journey that felt as fraught as sneaking past enemy checkpoints in battle. Inexplicably, some eunuch would pop up out of nowhere trying to curry favor with him, and not just that—

While still half a zhang from an obstruction, Chen Dasheng began calling out: “Jiang the Third! Jiang the Third?”

Before long, old eunuch Jiang De, who managed Autumn Orchid Court, came running from a corner, shouting as he ran: “I said the magpies were chattering this morning, knew it meant a distinguished visitor—here you are, here you are! Little Ancestor, what brings you to this humble corner of mine?”

Chen Dasheng had a good memory; no matter the place in the palace, once he’d learned it, he never forgot it—let alone people.

Seeing the sweaty old eunuch, Chen Dasheng let him catch his breath: “Took a shortcut, no rush, catch your breath first.”

The old eunuch smiled and, after a few breaths, asked: “Hey hey, so kind and considerate as always. So, Little Ancestor, what do you need? This old servant guarantees I’ll handle it properly for you, I promise…”

Chen Dasheng had by now learned how to decline people, and simply pointed at the snowy ground: “I don’t need anything from you! It’s that—pick that up, see whose it is? Return it to them.”

Jiang the Third glanced over and immediately laughed: “Ha ha ha… I thought it was something serious. Fine, fine! I’ll pick it up right away, I’ll get it… oh my, what fine embroidery, even mandarin ducks…”

The old eunuch went over to pick up an exquisitely embroidered purse, and just as he looked up to flatter him further, Chen Dasheng had already fled as though escaping the plague.

Old Jiang De laughed to himself, glanced around, and spotted a water-onion-colored skirt hem flitting past a corner of Autumn Orchid Court. He sneered with contempt: “A toad hoping to eat swan meat! Who does our Old Ancestor think he is, and who does our Little Ancestor think he is? Pah! Dream on!”

They’d already discussed this among themselves—absolutely no allowing those wretched women to get their claws into their Little Ancestor.

He waved over two young eunuchs who called him “father,” instructing them to find out who it was—if she was a newcomer, hand her over to her matron for discipline; if she was a holdover from the previous dynasty, drive her out entirely.

There were so many women in this palace, and so few men—naturally, this Little Ancestor had become the newest target.

Fortunately, he had a rather peculiar temperament, never even raising his eyes to look at any woman he encountered. If he came across a handkerchief or purse on the road, he’d give it a wide berth, not even glancing at it; if truly unavoidable, he’d simply step over it.

Later, since so many items kept turning up along his path, he grew fed up and started calling them out directly—whoever dropped it could come collect it themselves, thoroughly extinguishing any hopes those women might have harbored.

But things weren’t quite as simple as he imagined—no one had told him the full story.

He truly believed the items were just being returned, plain and simple.

Later, this became a favorite topic of gossip among the palace consorts, everyone finding it rather amusing, yet all secretly impressed—truly, a man of exceptional character. She Da-ban really did know how to pick people.

So many scheming tricks had been passed down from the previous dynasty, and the Emperor himself had fallen for a few of them before, resulting in the back palace gaining three “beauties”… So, you see, there were still gentlemen left in this world.

Chen Dasheng truly had to cross mountains and valleys, so to speak, before finally reaching the outside of Dongming Hall. His teacher was working overtime again today, so Chen Dasheng, unbothered, requested a small table and settled into a sheltered spot out of the wind, taking out the sutras his teacher had written and beginning to copy them.

He now recognized all these sutra characters—his teacher had read them to him several times before the Buddhist shrine, he’d memorized them, then found a copybook to trace, reciting from memory as he wrote, and gradually he’d mastered them, though his handwriting remained rather crooked and unsightly.

But his teacher never minded; every time he finished a page, his teacher would happily take it away to burn as an offering.

Chen Dasheng wasn’t permitted into the hall itself, so he did his copying out on the eaves. He wasn’t cold, though—a young eunuch had brought a brazier for him.

He’d written about four or five sheets when the hall’s door opened and someone emerged.

His teacher had told him that a person must know his own weight before he can measure others. In truth, he himself was merely a sixth-rank minor official. Anyone permitted to see the Emperor directly at Dongming Hall would, as a matter of course, outrank him by several grades, so proper etiquette on the surface had to be observed without fail.

Chen Dasheng bowed properly, but the person who’d emerged didn’t move at all. When he finally looked up, puzzled, his eyes narrowed slightly, and he thought to himself: so you’ve finally come… I’ve been waiting for you a long time.

More than once he’d reminded himself in his heart: however well he lived now, he must never forget that there were one thousand nine hundred and ninety-three wronged souls behind him—plus one more, Yangdan.

He’d waited, and waited, and finally, this day had arrived.

Chen Dasheng had rehearsed this moment in his mind a thousand, ten thousand times, and now he followed through exactly as rehearsed, bowing with reverent solemnity: “This lowly officer pays respects to the old General! Such heavy snow, who would have imagined you’d come to the capital…”

This man was Tan Er’s father—Crown Prince’s Junior Tutor and founding Marquis, Tan Shouyi.

The last time Chen Dasheng had seen this old man, his hair had still been fully black, full of vigor and spirit. But now he was entirely white-haired, his face marked with sorrow.

His eyes, too, were red and swollen—clearly, he’d already wept before the Emperor.

Tan Shouyi naturally knew who Chen Dasheng was, and in fact he’d come to the palace today with two purposes. First, to meet with His Majesty, using his second son’s past friendship with the Emperor to demonstrate his own loyalty once more.

Second, to find Chen Dasheng and the others, hoping to learn the details of what had happened the night his second son died… It wasn’t mere pride on his part—among his sons, his second son, considering the whole martial world included, would certainly have ranked among the top ten.

Yet when his second son had been buried, he hadn’t even had a complete body?

Who could have killed him? Who could have hacked his body apart so thoroughly it couldn’t even be pieced back together?

These past days, Tan Shouyi hadn’t managed a single full night’s sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his second son standing somewhere high above, covered in blood, smiling wordlessly down at him…

My son, my son!

The pain was truly unbearable!

Regardless of whether this man before him had once been a bonded servant of his own household, he had now climbed onto one of the empire’s greatest branches, becoming the adopted son of She Qingling himself.

So, his questions couldn’t be posed as they once might have been—he had to ask politely, respectfully.

He simply hadn’t expected that this man he barely remembered, Old Dao, would recognize him at a glance, and moreover would greet him with such courtesy, addressing him according to the old customs of the Tan family army, as “old General.”

Did this mean he hadn’t forgotten his roots? Or did it mean he had a guilty conscience? Or was he… concealing something?

Having spent half a lifetime scheming against others, Tan Shouyi nonetheless possessed a naturally gentle, kindly appearance. He sighed, and his eyes reddened once more.

He asked Chen Dasheng: “You must be the newly-titled city-gate marquis, Chief Chen, appointed by His Majesty? You—you still remember this old man?”

Chen Dasheng answered solemnly: “How could I forget? When the Long Blade Camp was established, old General, you came that day. That day you and the general drank quite a lot together, and for several days afterward his face carried a smile… our general rarely smiled. The last time was last year, on the second day of the fourth month, the general’s birthday—old General, you came bearing wine, and sat with our second general for a while. After you left, our general… stood at the camp gate until dawn.”

No one understood the affairs of the Tan family better than he did, having lived within the Tan family army himself.

Tan Er had, in the end, truly gone mad—not feigned madness, but had genuinely abandoned all humanity to become a demon, utterly devoid of human feeling.

And this demon—it had been created step by step by this very man before him, and by those standing behind him.

How could he forget? How could he dare to?

Tan Shouyi’s chest ached as though pierced by needles. He clutched his chest for a long while before speaking: “I wonder… is Chief Chen currently on duty? If you’re busy, this old man can wait outside the palace.”

Something stirred in Chen Dasheng’s heart, though his expression gave nothing away: “I’m not on duty. Does the old General have business?”

Tan Shouyi nodded, looking at him: “I’d like… to speak somewhere private, if Chief Chen would be willing?”

This was a proper, legitimate first-rank official of the current court, one who held command over the Emperor’s substantial military forces, yet who could still restrain his anger and treat him with such courtesy.

And what was he himself, by comparison?

Chen Dasheng nodded, glancing around before saying: “This way, please.”

He had no intention of having any private encounter with this man outside the palace. He was now the Emperor’s man, through and through, and so he openly pointed in a direction, preparing to speak with Tan Shouyi in plain view of everyone.

Incidentally, this would also let him show off his own modest position—an annual income of less than two hundred piculs, or more precisely, one hundred twenty piculs—while the old man before him earned two thousand three hundred piculs a year.

A difference of tenfold.

Chen Dasheng pointed the way, and Tan Shouyi began walking in that direction. Despite his advanced age, having traveled through the snow all the way from Shaoshang, enduring the fatigue of the journey and then an audience with the Emperor, his gait showed not the slightest sign of exhaustion—he walked with vigorous, powerful strides.

Chen Dasheng followed half a step behind him.

What could Tan Shouyi possibly want with him?

Recently, in his studies, following his teacher’s guidance, he’d begun with the “Zengguang Xianwen.” His teacher hadn’t started him on the usual primers for children, saying instead that this text suited him best—since it was filled with hard-won lessons about human nature, and his education ought to begin with learning how to be a person.

The “Zengguang Xianwen” was a very practical text, unlike ordinary primers that easily inspired lofty ambitions in people—it laid bare human nature and the human heart, plainly, for all to see. Just now, he’d recalled the line: know yourself, know your opponent, and measure others by your own heart…

His teacher had told him this line meant using one’s own heart to understand another’s feelings, though it could also be understood in reverse.

So, if he were Tan Shouyi, how would he think?

If he were the patriarch of a great clan, arriving in the capital, would he put his son’s true cause of death first—or would he put the family’s stability first?

Naturally, stability came first. The Tan family had never truly belonged to Tan Er, nor even to Tan Shouyi himself—behind this surname stood two hundred piculs, three hundred piculs, and more, ever more, murderers.

So, was he simply asking to set his own mind at ease?

Hmph! Not a chance!

At a windswept corner of the outer palace grounds stood a pavilion, open on all four sides. Chen Dasheng brought Tan Shouyi there, and immediately young eunuchs came carrying padded curtains to cover three sides for shelter from the wind.

Two braziers of fine pine-scented charcoal were quickly set up in the corners. In the pavilion, a small drum-shaped table was covered with a brocade cloth, and drum-shaped stools cushioned with brocade padding. A pot of hot tea, two elegantly painted landscape porcelain cups, and three small plates of pastries from the Bureau of Provisions were all silently arranged, and then the attendants quietly withdrew.

Even as a first-rank official, Tan Shouyi had never received such treatment within the palace, and he took another moment to size up Chen Dasheng before him.

Chen Dasheng, seemingly oblivious, picked up the teapot and poured a cup for Tan Shouyi, then held it up with both hands: “The weather’s cold, please warm yourself first, old General.”

“I’m obliged to Chief Chen.”

“It’s only proper.”

Watching Tan Shouyi slowly drink the hot tea, Chen Dasheng thought: very well then, let me measure your heart with mine.

The snow fell more lightly now, setting off the beauty of the palace scenery. Chen Dasheng sat across from Tan Shouyi, neither looking at the other, both quietly gazing at the view outside.

After three cups of tea, Chen Dasheng finally spoke, somewhat abruptly: “Actually, even if the old General hadn’t come, I would have sought you out myself.”

Tan Shouyi, startled, turned to look at him: “Oh? What does Chief Chen mean by that?”

Chen Dasheng turned the cup in his hands, appearing lost in thought, or perhaps holding something back… in the end, his youth got the better of him, and he couldn’t help but say: “This lowly officer believes our second general may have been killed by the eldest general!”

A teacup slipped from Tan Shouyi’s hand and shattered on the ground.

Tan Shouyi had wanted to leap up immediately, to angrily rebuke this insolent underling for spouting such nonsense, such reckless slander!

But the sound of the shattering cup brought him back to his senses.

This was the palace! Not the Tan household—this was the palace, and one of the powers behind it was this very young man’s adoptive father…

Four young eunuchs hurried over, quietly cleaning up, quietly replacing the tea set, then silently turning and withdrawing.

Chen Dasheng stood and poured another cup of tea for Tan Shouyi: “I know the old General doesn’t believe me, but I’m not the only one who thinks this way—I’ve discussed it privately with my brothers as well, and we all feel, however unbelievable it may seem, that if there’s anyone in this world who wanted our general dead, the eldest general is the first suspect, without question…”

This time Tan Shouyi didn’t drop his cup, though his eyes flickered with a moment of distraction before he forced a strained smile: “Chief Chen, you go too far! Yes, the two brothers had their differences, but for Shiyuan to want Shize dead… how could that possibly be?”

Chen Dasheng patted his own thigh, as though recalling a great many things at once, his expression both grieving and restrained, and after a long while said: “Yes, how could you believe it? Who would believe such a claim, spoken aloud? And yet—many people know of it. Not just me.”

Tan Shouyi set his cup down on the table, and, mimicking Chen Dasheng’s gesture, patted his own thigh: “This old man is curious—why does Chief Chen hold such a view? And you say many people know of it too? This old man would like to ask, Chief Chen—where does this claim come from? Is there evidence? Are there witnesses?”

His self-control was truly impressive.

Chen Dasheng fell silent for a moment before saying: “That’s… rather a long story…”

“This old man has plenty of time. But I wonder, does Chief Chen?”

“It’s fine, this lowly officer happens to have quite a lot of free time these days!”

“Then, please, do go on…”

Chen Dasheng nodded, and after sitting quietly for a while, said: “The old General must already know something of my background, correct?”

Naturally, he’d investigated thoroughly, tracing everything from the very roots to the present day. His second son had died with an incomplete body—how could he not investigate?

Tan Shouyi nodded, confirming this.

Chen Dasheng smiled, unconcerned: “Just as you say! This lowly officer came from humble origins—my whole family was deceived into signing a contract, and then sold off to become bonded servants of the Tan family army…”

Tan Shouyi tried to interject, but Chen Dasheng simply reached over and refilled his cup: “Please, drink. Let me finish.”

Tan Shouyi lifted his cup and nodded.

“…In truth, the matter of the eldest general eventually causing the second general’s death was something everyone in the Tan family army knew about—everyone except you, old General, I’d wager…”

“Is that so?”

“Mm, how should I put this… Ah, let me start from myself, then. This lowly officer, born into humble circumstances, was sold through several transactions into the Tan family army… A country boy like me had no idea that in this world, men could take two wives, three wives, four wives…”

The teapot clinked against the cup nearby. Chen Dasheng glanced up at Tan Shouyi, who was forcing himself to appear calm, and continued: “It wasn’t until I was assigned to the Long Blade Camp that I learned—though we were all men, some men would never in their lives afford even one wife, while others could take many… And though we were all sons, some were born noble, commanding wind and rain at will, while others were born low. Do you know, old General, I first heard the word ‘low’ from the eldest general’s own mouth—he often said, ‘the spawn of a lowborn concubine’… referring to our second general…”

Tan Shouyi’s hand, holding his teacup, began to tremble.

“At the time, this lowly officer thought—oh! So sons aren’t all the same after all! And then I began to wonder, if you knew from the start he wouldn’t have an easy life, why—why did you even bear him… Do you know, old General, our second general had actually already gone mad!”

Another cup fell and shattered into pieces. Tan Shouyi sat utterly motionless.

A young eunuch moved to approach, but Chen Dasheng waved him off.

“…The Tan family army, separated by nothing but a few wooden fences—on one side, people who couldn’t even eat their fill; on the other, slaughtering pigs and sheep, feasting and singing every single night. Back then, whenever our second general achieved merit in battle, it wasn’t long before your eldest wife back home would write a letter, and after our second general read it, he’d have to go kneel before the eldest general’s tent and recite the Classic of Filial Piety… The eldest general took great pleasure in this—he’d whip our second general with a riding crop, pour cold water on him in the dead of winter, call him… a lowborn seedling!”

Without realizing it, Tan Shouyi’s face was already streaked with tears.

“…I didn’t know back then what those letters your household’s wife wrote actually said, but now I do. This lowly officer… has recently gained some insight into these matters, and I imagine it was nothing more than your own wife threatening our second general using his birth mother as leverage… The eldest general demanded everything—grain, horses, weapons, armor… In the end, there was nothing left, and the Long Blade Camp had to go without armor entirely.”

For a long while, neither of them spoke. After all, this was a father—he had to protect his son, his heart shattered into eight pieces, yet he still had to protect him even in front of outsiders.

Tan Shouyi finally said: “But—Shiyuan would never have wanted to see Zhe’er dead. They were, after all, brothers by blood…”

Chen Dasheng offered no agreement, only saying: “On the final day we breached this palace, we hadn’t received our proper rations for two days already—everyone was starving. It was our second general who slaughtered his own horse so we could finally eat a full meal. Oh! That horse—wasn’t that one from you?” Chen Dasheng looked up and asked Tan Shouyi: “I remember it—it was from you!”

Tan Shouyi opened his mouth: “Yes! Last year, on his birthday, this old man had it specially sought out from beyond the border, at great expense—a fine warhorse.”

What he didn’t say was that, thinking back carefully over his son’s brief life, that horse might have been the only thing he’d ever actually given him.

Chen Dasheng smiled: “…Our second general treasured that horse like a jewel—had it share a tent with him for sleeping, and even when they fitted it with horseshoes, he’d stand there watching over it personally… Yet he killed that very horse with his own hands so we could eat it… And after that…” Chen Dasheng pointed to his own head: “The general wasn’t quite right anymore.”

Another stretch of cold, windswept silence followed, and at last Tan Shouyi asked, his voice trembling: “Then—afterward? My son Zeer, he… he went mad over a horse?”

Chen Dasheng recalled that night: “That night, we kept waiting for the eldest general’s reinforcements, but he never came. Then—the north gate fell, the west gate fell… Our second general simply went mad, was the first to charge in. I remember… at the south gate, row upon neat row, Hongshun’s last Black Cavalry Guard stood ready, a full eight rows—we were old rivals, there was no mistaking them.

Those men over there weren’t planning to live either—they wanted to die for their country… We charged in right behind our general, and there were so few of us. Everyone was scattered in the chaos, I didn’t even know where I was, and how our general ended up dying, I don’t know either… So you see, our general was, in a sense, killed by his own brother. That’s the truth of it! If he’d come, our general wouldn’t have died. Since he didn’t come, how desperate must our second general have been? They all died! None of them… none of them ever came back…”

Two lines of tears fell from Chen Dasheng’s eyes—he wept for himself, and for all those brothers who’d died. In truth, this whole feud was almost laughably absurd—in the end, it all came down to one foolish man taking a concubine and fathering an exceptional son.

He stood, struck his chest with one fist in a military salute to Tan Shouyi, and said: “Old General! Ever since our second general died, I’ve always thought—I could never avenge him, because the former dynasty is gone, Emperor You is buried. Have you ever wondered—if our second general were still alive, what would have become of the Tan family?

Our general followed His Majesty faithfully through battle after battle, achieved great and glorious merit, shared a bond of brotherhood with His Majesty—and all because your household had a matter of legitimate versus illegitimate birth… Ha, these words, I’ve held them in for so long, and finally I’ve said them! Sitting in the very position our second general paid for with his life—can Tan Shiyuan really sleep soundly at night?

Today, I finally acknowledge you as my old commander. To be honest, I truly look down on that eldest son of yours! From now on, we’ll each go our separate ways—we both serve at the same court, and though I hold some resentment toward you, you are the father our second general cared about most. But toward the eldest general, I simply… I simply cannot respect him!”

He clasped his fists toward Tan Shouyi: “This matter—His Majesty already knows, and many others know as well… If you’ve truly set your heart on it, go and look into it properly yourself… This lowly officer takes his leave. Take care of yourself!”

Having said his piece, Chen Dasheng turned and walked away briskly.

In the end, the wind had picked up.