The long street was in complete chaos.
Among the martial-world figures who had come to the capital to assassinate Ning Yi and make a name for themselves, there had never been many top-tier experts to begin with. From ordinary skilled fighters up to grandmasters, martial skill tended to run in direct proportion to concern for one’s reputation, and in inverse proportion to recklessness. Someone like Lin Zongwu, if he wanted to kill Ning Yi, would certainly not do it for the sake of the martial world’s sense of justice. A tier below Lin Zongwu, among those with grudges against Ning Yi—men like the monk Tunyun, or chief constables in the Ministry of Justice like Tie Tianying—even if they wanted to stir up trouble, after weighing things carefully, they usually knew better than to try.
Further down still, there were naturally skilled fighters who wanted to kill the emperor’s hounds and uphold justice. Bringing along a group of men to lie in ambush and assassinate, whether out of a desire for fame or a sense of righteousness in the martial world, they lacked neither courage nor strength. This was why, when the fierce battle cries rose, the men rushing forward and clashing did so with tremendous ferocity—only this time, they had run into two groups of hardened fighters instead of one.
The moment the two sides clashed, the group of experts around Ning Yi, including Chen Tuozi, burst out fiercely to fight, not to mention Yue Fei—Yue Pengju—and others who followed Ning Yi to broaden their experience. Their martial skills had already been formidable to begin with, and although they had once carried some of the rough habits of the martial world under Ning Yi’s command, after being tempered on the battlefield, their fighting styles had all shifted toward coordinated teamwork, every strike aimed to kill. Just the sheer momentum of tens of thousands clashing at Xia Village alone was enough to raise a person’s level of skill by several degrees. Now, with the fierce meeting something even fiercer, the attackers were pressed down the moment their momentum peaked, blades and spears slashing and cutting, blood spraying in a horrifying, terrible display.
The guards charging out from the other side clearly bore the mark of military training as well. Colliding with two groups of hardened fighters at once, the fighting on the long street spread out, but within moments a encirclement had formed. The assassins were cut down and felled one by one. Those who tried to flee were tracked down all the same—only a handful managed to break through the encirclement, and in the blink of an eye, Chen Tuozi and the others had already given chase.
On the other side, the guards of the princely household had subdued two severely wounded assassins, watching Ning Yi’s side warily. Ning Yi, too, was somewhat on guard, though in the capital, with so many imperial relatives and nobles about, encountering a prince or two was hardly an unusual matter. He sent someone over to announce his identity. After a moment, a steward from the princely household came over, looked him up and down a few times, and was about to speak when Gao Mu’en swaggered over from the side: “Hmph, plenty of enemies, aren’t there—that’s what you get for all your wickedness…”
Earlier, when the assassins had suddenly attacked, Gao Mu’en had been scared witless, and while fleeing had run into a tree, his nose bleeding freely. Now, with blood still dripping from his nose, he spoke with something of a stammer, not daring to get too close to Ning Yi. He had mainly come over to greet the steward from the princely household: “You’re from… the Prince of Chen’s household? Or the Prince of Qi’s? Do you know me? I know the young masters of your household well…”
“The Guangyang Commandery Prince’s household,” the steward answered, his gaze still fixed on Ning Yi. “The Prince is inside having tea with Lord Tan Zhen. Are you Ning Yi—Ning Liheng? The Prince and Lord Tan request your presence.” He paused. “Ah, the son of Grand Marshal Gao, is it? Would you like to come in as well?”
At hearing that name, Ning Yi’s brow furrowed. Beside him, Gao Mu’en’s expression shifted, the corner of his mouth twitching, and then he said, “No, no, no… no need, no need to disturb the Prince’s peace and quiet. Hahaha, I was just looking for my little… little golden monkey. Hahaha, I’ll go look for it now. Hahaha… go look for it…”
Stammering through this, he turned and walked away.
In the capital, there was hardly any other prince Gao Mu’en would fear—after all, most imperial relatives were dissolute wastrels, and those who genuinely tried to be virtuous princes were instead viewed with suspicion by those above. Among the wastrels he usually kept company with, two happened to be sons of princely households themselves. But there was one man inside whom Gao Mu’en dared not even face directly.
The Guangyang Commandery Prince—the foremost military commander of the past decade or so, a powerful minister of a different surname capable of standing on equal footing against Cai Jing himself.
Ning Yi’s brow furrowed for that very reason too.
—Tong Guan. Tong Daofu!
…
In a certain sense, Gao Mu’en was actually a man who knew his own limits and understood the times. Even though he relied on his adoptive father’s standing to play the villain around the capital with great flair, there were still some people he dared not provoke—let alone provoke, he wouldn’t even dare face them.
Cai Jing, Tong Guan, Qin Siyuan, Wang Fu, Liang Shicheng, Li Bangyan—among these, not counting officials like Li Gang or Tang Ke—the reason he feared them was that Gao Mu’en understood these men clearly: once you truly angered them, they would devour you whole without spitting out the bones. On the other hand, he knew he himself was rather disreputable, and if he came face to face with these great figures, there was no chance they’d take a liking to him. He didn’t seek any grand future for himself, and precisely because of this self-awareness, whenever he encountered such men, running away was always the wisest course.
After Gao Mu’en had fled, Ning Yi, in a room in the wooden tower across the way, met Tong Guan and Tan Zhen. In a certain sense, this was a completely unprepared meeting.
Before this, Ning Yi had seen Tong Guan from a distance twice. This powerful minister, who had been enfeoffed as a prince despite his eunuch status, was tall in stature, with dignified and upright features, a beard beneath his chin. Having occupied a position of high standing for a long time, and being a commander of troops besides, he carried considerable majesty and presence. Although Ning Yi worked in the Right Chancellor’s household, he held no particularly formal position officially, so the two of them had had no real overlap, and there had basically been no need for any. Led into the tower by the princely household’s steward, he saw that some things knocked over by the assassins were being cleaned up and set right. When they reached an inner courtyard and the door was pushed open, though it was daytime, lamps were lit inside, and the area was tightly guarded on all sides.
Ning Yi went in and paid his respects. The elderly man seated at the head of the room, dressed in black informal robes, set down his teacup—that was Tong Guan. In the guest seat was the former Military Affairs Commissioner, Tan Zhen. Both men were sizing him up, then told him to rise and dispense with formalities.
Tong Guan stood and walked to one side, reaching out to push open the window. Outside was a garden with a fine view, plum trees just beginning to bloom, vivid amid the snow. Tan Zhen rose to stop him: “Your Highness, you mustn’t—the assassins haven’t all been cleared out yet…” Tong Guan waved his hand. “This old man has spent his whole life on the battlefield—why would he fear a few assassins? Besides, with a guest here and nothing to offer him, that’s no way to receive a visitor.” He walked back. “Liheng, sit.”
“I would not presume to be so discourteous,” Ning Yi answered properly.
Tong Guan smiled and did not press the matter—after all, their statuses were far too different for that; he could afford to show courtesy toward one of lower rank, while the other side had no room to be presumptuous. This was only natural. “Just now, over tea and plum blossoms with Lord Tan, we happened to be speaking of you—the Xia Village battle was fought splendidly. This old man has campaigned for many years, and it’s been a long time since I’ve seen such a spirited battle. And then, as it happens, I heard of your affairs just now… Those ruffians of the martial world, foolish and deserving of death—this king’s own men have caught a few as well; I’ll have them sent back to you shortly, to give you justice. No need to say more—the army has its own way of doing things. You’ve given your service to the nation; if these people come looking for trouble with you, they’ve brought death upon themselves, and this king will back you up as well.”
Ning Yi had meant to decline, but Tong Guan, adopting the attitude of “you killed them, so be it,” cut off his words, then returned to his seat. “As for the fighting outside the city, the battle at Xia Village—Lord Tan and I both want to hear you tell it yourself. Do you have time now?”
“If the Prince commands it, how could I refuse.”
Tong Guan laughed. “Come, bring him a chair!” Then he added, “You’ll be talking for a while—no need to stand. Sit down.”
Before long, a cup of tea was poured for him as well.
To rise to the rank of prince of a different surname despite being a eunuch was, in some respects, to have reached the very pinnacle of worldly dealings and human relations. Even Ning Yi’s own past achievements, brought into this world, could not compare—it was only as a modern man that he had an edge in vision and knowledge. Of course, in this suddenly arisen situation, what was needed was not to show off how impressive he himself was. Ning Yi put on the manner of an ordinary scholar and, following Bamboo Records’ propaganda strategy, recounted the fighting outside the city. Tong Guan and Tan Zhen nodded from time to time, occasionally asking questions.
Over half an hour passed this way before he finished recounting everything. Tong Guan and Tan Zhen praised Ning Yi and the others for a while, then chatted idly for a bit. Tong Guan asked, “What does Liheng think of the peace negotiations?”
“Taiyuan is the key,” Ning Yi said. “If we cannot push an elite army forward to Taiyuan, once Zongwang and Zonghan join forces, I fear the north cannot be held.”
Tong Guan nodded. “And yet, Liheng has also seen the results of the battle for Bianliang. Zongwang alone was already this formidable—if the two armies join, and we fight another battle beneath the walls of Taiyuan and lose another hundred thousand troops or more, what then?”
“When forced into a narrow pass, it is the bold who win. Within the next few years, I fear there will be no other way out.”
“The question is,” Tan Zhen said from the side, “who does Liheng think can shoulder that responsibility?”
Ning Yi furrowed his brow, feigning as though the thought had just occurred to him, while inwardly thinking: surely they don’t mean me?
Tong Guan seemed rather pleased by his expression and waved a hand toward Tan Zhen. “I’ve known old Qin for more than twenty years. As for his conduct and character, I, Tong Guan, admire him greatly. In this battle, had it not been for him, it would have been difficult to turn the tide. His two sons, Shao and Shaoqian—one in Bianliang, one in Taiyuan—have rendered great service. To say that this whole great undertaking rests on old Qin’s shoulders would not be an exaggeration at all. You work in the Right Chancellor’s household, Liheng, and you have a bright future—just go ahead and do what needs doing, without holding back.”
“It’s only that there are many problems in the capital.” Tong Guan looked at Liheng, still furrowing his brow, and rose with a smile. “Some of these problems can be solved, some not so easily. We few old men, caught up in the midst of it, often resent our own powerlessness. Of course, whether it’s appropriate to speak of these things with you or not…”
As he spoke, he walked over, sighed, and patted Ning Yi on the shoulder. “You’re still young. Seeing you all reminds me of when I was young myself. The wind rises at the tip of the duckweed—a hero need not ask after his origins. I know you, Liheng, come from humble beginnings, but this king thinks that, given twenty or thirty years, who’s to say you won’t become the trailblazer of the next age…”
“Your Highness.” Ning Yi began to speak, then stopped himself.
“This king is already old. Whatever reputation I’ll leave behind, in life and after, is more or less settled by now,” Tong Guan said. “The only thing left to do is give the young some time. Some things we old men cannot do, you young men will be able to, in time. Liheng, now that you’ve thrown yourself into this war, you may as well be counted among the army’s own. In this great battle, the Wuchi Battalion holds the foremost credit—this king will fight for your interests. In the future, if anything is troubling you, feel free to come speak to this king. Of course, speaking to old Qin works just as well. This king isn’t worried about whatever it is you’re doing now—the martial world is full of rough types, but there’s one saying, very fitting for you young people, that I’ll give to you.”
He pointed at Ning Yi and paused briefly.
“Life is short,” he said. “Chase the wind and pursue the moon, and hold nothing back.”
…
Wearing an expression of mild honor mixed with trepidation, Ning Yi walked out through the gate and climbed into his carriage. Only then did his expression instantly turn grave.
Being assassinated by martial-world figures on the street was, in truth, hardly a major matter. But meeting with Tong Guan at this particular juncture made everything take on a far more meaningful cast.
As for the purpose of the meeting, Tong Guan had made no attempt to disguise it—nothing more than showing goodwill and trying to win him over. Ning Yi’s official standing, though not particularly notable, had been built up through organizing the defense at Xia Village and the scorched-earth resistance along the way—it was hardly strange that Tong Guan would have come to know of his existence. That he, as a prince, would sit and listen to a commoner recount the fighting for a full two hours, occasionally chiming in with encouraging questions like a supporting act, was itself an enormous show of favor—an ordinary general would already have been overcome with gratitude. And as for the intent behind his later words, that was even simpler to read.
“Chase the wind and pursue the moon, and hold nothing back…” Ning Yi murmured the line to himself. Inside the carriage, the steward from Bamboo Records looked over and asked cautiously, “Sir, what did the Prince say?”
“Follow me and there’ll be meat to eat,” Ning Yi said, glancing at him.
The steward, himself a member of the advisory staff, thought for a moment before his expression suddenly changed. “As for the Chancellor…”
“Right now there’s no telling whether this is a deliberate move to test the waters, or whether an alliance has already been struck behind the scenes,” Ning Yi said, shaking his head, before falling silent again. “No need to think too much on it for now—let’s just watch and see, watch and see…”