After Li Chengyi bowed in greeting, he asked: “May I be so bold as to ask, Uncle Liao, where did I err in what I said just now? Please do correct me.”

Liao Jingxuan’s father, Liao Zhongchang, gave a faint, rueful smile and glanced at Old General Li before saying lightly: “It is an old affair from years past. Whether it was a momentary lapse in vigilance or someone who leaked the military intelligence — there is no way to investigate it now. Best not to speak of it.”

With just those few brief words, the color drained from Li Chengyi’s face.

He recalled that after the defeat at Fushui back then, the court officials had all submitted memorials impeaching Yang Xun for his reckless use of troops — that he had taken desperate risks just to secure grain and provisions.

It was only afterward that other voices gradually emerged, especially after Situ Sheng had previously followed the Sixth Imperial Prince to the northern territories to investigate and arrest corrupt officials, which had inadvertently implicated the old case of Prince Tai’s scheme to frame Yang Xun and cut off his grain supply.

The voices in court calling for the rehabilitation of Old General Yang Xun only then began to grow louder. For anyone else, once a case had been investigated to this extent, the court would naturally have arrived at some verdict.

But this happened to be the Yang Family’s case! Back then, His Majesty had been so consumed by rage that after Yang Yi defected to the enemy, he had issued the order to exterminate the entire Yang clan.

After so many years, even if His Majesty knew full well that Old General Yang Xun’s defeat had been unjust, rehabilitating the Yang Family was utterly impossible.

Otherwise, would that not be delivering a resounding, public slap across the face of His Majesty’s imperial countenance?

And since Liao Zhongchang had been a fellow soldier alongside Old General Li, he would naturally have served under Old General Yang Xun back then as well.

He was clearly someone privy to the truth, which was why he had spoken in such a manner.

After Liao Zhongchang exchanged brief pleasantries with General Li Chengyi, his gaze came to rest upon Situ Sheng.

By his reckoning, it had been a very long time since he had last seen this child. Back then, this child had passed through his hands and been placed with the widow of a friend — a woman surnamed Li — whom he had asked to raise the boy in his stead.

Afterward, in order to erase all traces of this child’s past, he had never gone to visit the boy again.

In the blink of an eye, this child had grown into a person of remarkable bearing and appearance — truly cut from the same cloth as the old general!

Situ Sheng, for his part, gazed silently at Liao Zhongchang and did not step forward to acknowledge their connection.

He had heard from Old General Li that the Liao couple had traveled from their hometown specifically to see their son Liao Jingxuan. What they had not expected was that Liao Jingxuan had failed to inform his parents of his sudden return to the capital, so the old couple had made the trip for nothing.

Nevertheless, since Liao Zhongchang and Old General Li were old acquaintances, this visit could still be counted as calling upon a friend — it had not been made entirely in vain.

These old comrades-in-arms who had once served under the Yang Family’s banner now stood atop the city walls, gazing down at Fushui — that very stretch of water where they had once ridden freely, watering and washing their horses together — and were overcome with a thousand mingled feelings.

But Liao Zhongchang noticed that the city had changed in a few ways since he had last seen it. He pointed toward a channel of water not far away and said: “I don’t recall there ever being a river here. Could it be that water was deliberately diverted to construct a moat?”

Old General Li laughed: “That is the achievement of your fine son! This channel — in times of war, it naturally serves as a moat, but when peace reigns at the frontier, it becomes a life-giving waterway for the surrounding villagers to irrigate their fields.”

Liao Zhongchang, upon hearing this, cast his gaze outward and saw that beyond the village behind the city walls, a great many fertile fields had indeed been added.

Li Chengyi smiled and said: “All of this was brought about through military households opening up the frontier — newly cultivated land over the past two years. Our Lord Situ and Lord Liao were not idle in the Ministry of Personnel and the Ministry of Works. Beyond reforming the official farmland allocation system, they petitioned His Majesty to construct fortifications in the northern territories and build irrigation works to ease both border defense and farmland cultivation. One raises soldiers for a thousand days to use them in a single moment — and these thousands of acres of fertile land represent the sustenance that fills the bowls of our frontline soldiers!”

Upon hearing this, Liao Zhongchang felt a sudden inward shock.

His wife had always taught their son Liao Jingxuan to hold fame and fortune lightly and had forbidden him from pursuing an official career. Regrettably, Liao Jingxuan, outwardly obedient, harbored his own lofty ambitions, and in middle age had gone behind his parents’ backs to sit the imperial examinations and earn his credentials.

What was done was done, and so his wife had then instructed Liao Jingxuan to seek a quiet posting in some leisurely government office and avoid entanglement in the scheming and backstabbing of court.

Liao Jingxuan had duly complied, taking up a post in the unglamorous Ministry of Works, and later, while recuperating from an injury, had gone to teach at a women’s school.

Though Liao Zhongchang had told his son to look after Situ Sheng, he had never imagined that these two young men without powerful backing could stir up any great waves — that they could accomplish anything of note in that crowded, jostling court.

Yet who would have thought that his son, seemingly obscure for so many years, had in fact joined forces with Situ Sheng to build a solid foundation for the soldiers defending the frontier?

Situ Sheng, observing the complex, tumultuous expression on Liao Zhongchang’s face, smiled faintly and said: “Though Brother Liao holds fame and fortune lightly, he possesses the talent to govern the world. It is entirely owing to your meticulous guidance, Uncle.”

These were ordinary flattering words one might offer to a classmate’s father, yet unexpectedly, Liao Zhongchang’s expression shifted slightly upon hearing them, and he gave a somewhat bitter, wistful smile: “…This is hardly to my credit — he was simply born to be this way…”

Hmm… those words carried a rather unguarded air of “my son was simply a genius from birth.”

Even Li Chengyi, standing nearby, heard this and smiled with a touch of awkwardness before laughing heartily to change the subject.

When Situ Sheng inquired as to where Lady Liao had gone, Liao Zhongchang pointed with his hand and said: “Just now at the base of the city walls, she happened to encounter a young woman surnamed Chu. She said she had been a female student of my son Liao Jingxuan when he taught at the women’s school. Upon learning that we were her teacher’s parents, she took my wife’s arm and called her ‘mentor’s mother.’ Such a sweet tongue — my wife walked off chatting with her and hasn’t returned.”

Situ Sheng followed the direction the old gentleman pointed and saw that Chu Linlang was indeed walking along the riverbank below the city walls, arm in arm with Lady Liao, talking and strolling as they went.

What Chu Linlang and Lady Liao were idly discussing was, naturally, Liao Jingxuan.

Lady Liao had been separated from her son for a long time, and his letters home only ever reported the good news and concealed the hardships, so it was actually through Chu Linlang’s account that Lady Liao was able to learn of her son’s recent circumstances.

After Chu Linlang had patiently answered her questions one by one, she smiled discreetly and studied Lady Liao.

When she had spotted this couple a short while ago and learned that they were Liao Jingxuan’s parents, Chu Linlang had felt a start of surprise.

And for no other reason than this: Liao Jingxuan was tall and imposing — like Situ Sheng, he was a man of distinguished, impressive bearing.

Yet looking now at this couple, they were noticeably short — more than just a little — and both of slender build. How could they have produced a son so towering and powerful?

This sense of incongruity gave a perceptive woman cause to think.

Only such a question was not easy to ask. For some inexplicable reason, Chu Linlang also found herself thinking again of the scar on Tutor Liao’s shoulder — so similar to the one her own mother bore.

As their conversation wandered along, it drifted to the subject of the dangerous encounter in the oasis. When Lady Liao heard that her son had taken a sword thrust protecting his students, she drew a sharp breath.

Chu Linlang hastily offered gentle words of reassurance, saying that Tutor Liao had recovered very well — though his constitution seemed prone to scarring, much like the wound on his shoulder, which looked particularly fierce and ugly.

Chu Linlang then asked, with an air of casual offhandedness: “By the way, the tutor said the scar on his shoulder came from accidentally cutting himself with a sharp object as a child — I wondered what sort of medicine was applied, for why should the scar be so pronounced?”

Upon hearing this, Lady Liao replied without a second thought: “Oh, it was his father playing a game with him — an accident — just some hemostatic medicine rubbed on…”

Chu Linlang slowly turned her head, but the smile had vanished from her face.

For when Situ Sheng had once asked Tutor Liao about the scar on his shoulder, Liao Jingxuan had clearly said it had come from his mother accidentally scalding him as a child.

Yet just now she had said it was a cut — and Lady Liao had not contradicted her.

Such an error — Lady Liao had no reason to lie about so trivial a matter!

Besides, if a child had been injured before one’s very eyes and left with a scar, any parent would remember the cause clearly for the rest of their lives.

All the more so since the Liao Family had only this one son — there were not so many children that the circumstances could become muddled!

But if the scar had not been sustained before their very eyes — if whatever story had been invented and casually offered as an excuse long ago had, with the passage of time, faded and grown confused — then perhaps even they could no longer quite remember it clearly.

When the two women had strolled as far as the city wall, they happened to encounter Situ Sheng and the others coming down as well.

Old General Li wished to have them all stay for a meal. But with troops on the march, this was hardly a time for leisurely drinking and pleasantries — the fact that they had been able to meet at all was already a rare gift, and so everyone soon took their leave.

From the Liao couple’s manner of speaking, since they had made the trip for nothing, they intended to return home and get in touch with their son from there.

However, from the old gentleman’s words, it was clear that before he departed, he still wished to go to the area near Fushui to pay his respects at the grave of a departed friend.

Situ Sheng had a vague inkling of which person he intended to mourn, yet he opened his mouth to dissuade him.

The reason was simple: the northern territories were in the throes of war, and furthermore, Fushui was now in the hands of the Jing Kingdom.

But the old gentleman’s mind was made up. He merely smiled and said he knew what he was about — he would read the situation and would not rashly put himself in harm’s way.

Situ Sheng pondered for a moment, then said: “Were it not for my official duties, I should have gone there on your behalf, sir.”

He was Yang Xun’s eldest grandson by the direct line — it was he who should have gone to Fushui, to the place where his grandfather had fallen, to pay his respects. But the trappings and burdens of the mortal world had him in their grip, and he could not go in person.

Old Gentleman Liao smiled gently: “You are still young. There will come a day when you march with the Great Jin army and pay open tribute to the soldiers who shed their blood here. But I, I fear, will not live to see that day… By the way, have you come here to conduct peace negotiations with the Jing Kingdom?”

Situ Sheng had nothing to conceal from Old Gentleman Liao, and so he truthfully explained that he had come under imperial orders to locate the Third Imperial Prince.

When the old gentleman heard that the Emperor had found news of the Third Imperial Prince, his grizzled brows gave a faint tremor — but upon hearing Situ Sheng say that the person found was a butcher, he relaxed into a smile: “In the end it is a worry laid to rest. Now that he is found, the burden on one’s heart is lifted — no need to worry any further.”

Situ Sheng also smiled and asked: “Does the old gentleman mean that His Majesty need no longer pine after him? Or that some other person need worry no more?”

Old Gentleman Liao turned to gaze into the distance and after a moment’s thought said: “Naturally, those who worried about the Third Crown Prince need worry no more!”

When Lady Liao and Chu Linlang returned from their stroll, Chu Linlang used the moment while Situ Sheng and Lady Liao were exchanging pleasantries to study the couple once more.

Their builds truly bore no resemblance to Liao Jingxuan. The sensation of incongruity was like wondering — could a peanut plant produce a winter melon?

Tutor Liao was usually thick-bearded, and on the rare occasion his true face was revealed, his features did not resemble either parent.

On the road back that day, Chu Linlang once again raised her puzzlement with Situ Sheng, and asked: “Why does Uncle Liao have only the one child, Liao Jingxuan?”

But Situ Sheng was lost in a reverie, his ears turned toward the sound of a reed flute drifting from somewhere beyond the carriage, his fingers keeping time with the rhythm, entirely oblivious to what Linlang was saying.

Only when the melody ended did he turn his head and ask: “What did you just say?”

After she repeated herself, he lowered his eyes in contemplative inquiry and asked: “Are you still suspicious that Liao Jingxuan is an adopted child?”

Chu Linlang sat cross-legged on the carriage seat and said: “Oh? You don’t find it strange? That Liao Jingxuan is so much taller than both his parents — by such a considerable margin!”

Situ Sheng said slowly: “The older generation did not eat and drink as well as people do now. If they lived through years of famine and grew short from poor nutrition, it would not be the least bit surprising that they could produce a tall, robust son. Surely one cannot question whether someone is truly a biological child simply because of a difference in height?”

Chu Linlang found herself momentarily unable to refute this — for however the question was put, it reeked of ignorance and impropriety.

By the time Linlang and Situ Sheng returned to the postal relay station, Gu Youjin had already grown impatient waiting, and was loudly demanding to know when they would be setting off. He could hardly wait to see his birth father and mother.

Though his identity had not yet been confirmed, since he might be the Third Crown Prince, proper deference had to be shown — and so Situ Sheng treated this butcher-prince with a measure of courtesy.

Yet Gu Youjin seemed to have become somewhat intoxicated by the deferential attitude of all these silk-clad guards and attendants, and caught sight of Chu Linlang, who had returned alongside Situ Sheng.

Living in this remote frontier village, when had he ever laid eyes on a beauty with such fair, delicate skin?

One glance, and his eyes went straight. He blurted out asking who this young woman was and why he had not seen her before.

Unfortunately, the moment those words left his mouth, the gaze of Lord Situ beside him instantly turned icy cold, and he said with quiet indifference: “Young Master Gu, it is late in the night. You ought to sleep.”

Gu Youjin, though coarse and slow-witted, was still frightened by Situ Sheng’s shadowed, chilling gaze.

How to put it? Though this lord was handsome, when those eyes went dark like that — they were exactly like the eyes of a starving wolf that had crept into a village to steal sheep. So terrified was he that he dared not say another word, and scurried back to his own room in a flash.

Linlang had been tossed about all day and was somewhat worn out.

Yet when she lay down on the bed, she tossed and turned and simply could not sleep. Her mind seemed tangled with some chaotic, unconnected threads that she could not gather together, yet no matter how she searched, she could not find the end of any of them.

Though Situ Sheng did not share her room, it was his nightly custom to slip in and hold her as they slept. Seeing her now flipping back and forth like flatbread on a griddle, he too sat up and asked: “What is the matter? Can you not sleep?”

Chu Linlang asked in a low voice: “Have you seen Gu Youjin’s shoulder? Does his shoulder bear the same brand as my mother’s?”

Situ Sheng shook his head: “No. But the Third Imperial Prince was still very young back then — an infant in swaddling. The traffickers may not have marked him.”

This explanation was plausible enough. Yet as long as Chu Linlang thought of the so-called divine miracle at the imperial temple, her eyelids would give a faint involuntary twitch.

In her daily life she would shake her tortoiseshell divination tools with great vigor, as if she had deep faith in the gods.

But she also knew full well just how easy it was, if someone wished to use the divine as a means to harm another.

What if this so-called miracle had been engineered by someone who had dug a trap — framing and ruining Tao Yashu, who ought to have become a consort or perhaps even Empress?

And then, in what seemed like plain sailing, allowing Situ Sheng to conveniently locate the Third Imperial Prince, who had been without news for years — what were the true intentions behind it all?

A string in Chu Linlang’s mind had gone inexplicably taut, leaving her with a restless, unsettled feeling.

Situ Sheng looked at the faint apprehension in Chu Linlang’s eyes and stroked her hair: “Are you unable to sleep because you are worried about something happening to me?”

Chu Linlang reached out and touched his cheek, saying quietly: “I have had too many beautiful dreams in this life, and they have all ended too soon. But now I would rather die within a dream than wake again…”

Perhaps it was the depth of the night making one too fragile — as Chu Linlang spoke on, her eyes unexpectedly grew moist without her realizing it.

Situ Sheng sighed and drew Linlang close, unsure whether to praise her for being too perceptive, or to lecture her that thinking less would allow her to better preserve her health.

He could only hold her tightly and say in a low, steady voice: “If a thing proceeds too smoothly, it is either heaven’s blessing — or someone lending a hand behind the scenes. The only question is what purpose that person has. Once the man reaches the capital, everything will come to light.”

Chu Linlang heard in his words that he was not unprepared for this — yet she still worried: “But what if someone has already spread a great net for you, just waiting? What then?”

Situ Sheng smiled: “Do I not have a golden carp of a wife to fall back on? You prepare the fastest vessel for me — if things go wrong, I shall elope with you and go sell fruit in the south!”

Linlang listened to these irresponsible words, thought for a moment, and — astonishingly — gave a solemn nod: “Very well. Then let those guards escort the fat pig to the capital, and you and I can elope right now. Just say you’ve come down with a severe illness — fake your death — and I’ll accompany your coffin to the mourning!”

Situ Sheng laughed: “You are so eager to become a widow?”

Chu Linlang also laughed: “If you could so easily speak of retreat and happily go sell fruit with me, would you still be the Situ Sheng I know? Should I not weep a little for you, and see if I can summon the real one back?”

Linlang knew Situ Sheng far too well. He was a man who bore the weight of his grandfather’s unfulfilled ambitions, a man with great aspirations and vision in his chest.

How could he shrink back and retreat at the first storm of adversity?

He was a man made to stand in the court, unshaken in the face of crisis, wielding both firmness and grace — a capable official born to govern the realm. And so, even with apprehension in her heart, she would stand steadfast behind him and quietly see him through it all!

Late as it was, after the two had spoken their hearts to each other, Linlang’s spirit seemed to settle considerably. At last she was able to close her eyes and drift into a deep, contented sleep in Situ Sheng’s arms.

But Situ Sheng did not sleep.

On the way back, he had heard that reed flute melody — it was, in fact, a secret signal someone had arranged with him.

And the time appointed for the meeting was the third watch of the night, between midnight and two in the morning.

When the hour arrived, Situ Sheng slipped out of bed with practiced ease, tucked his short sword into his garments, and made his way swiftly along the western side of the relay station to the edge of the city walls.

Before a house that showed some signs of disrepair, surrounded by several guards, a dark silhouette stood motionless.

Only when he arrived did that figure step slightly forward: “I half thought the great Privy Council Chief of Great Jin would not deign to honor me with an audience!”

Situ Sheng’s voice was cold: “You used my mother to threaten me — how could I not come?”

That dark silhouette — it was unmistakably Yang Yi. He looked at the tall young man before him and could not suppress a cold laugh.

The older this boy grew, the more disobedient he became. He had sent messages through his covert contacts to this young man several times, yet the boy had paid them no heed whatsoever.

And what was more, this boy had proven himself quite cunning — somehow managing to discover the address of the border-town property he had purchased and sending people there to search it.

Had he not been prepared well in advance, he might very well have had his lair raided by this boy!

But thinking of the purpose that had brought him to the northern territories, Yang Yi’s heart surged with excitement he could not contain: “I hear you have come here to bring back that dog-emperor’s most beloved son?”

Situ Sheng narrowed his eyes: “From where did you hear this?”

Yang Yi watched his reaction and laughed with satisfaction.

During the day, he had concealed himself in the vicinity of the relay station and seen that corpulent, rough-hewn folk prince — round enough to be genuinely comical! It seemed the palace, drowsy in its twilight years, was about to receive a touch of cheerful novelty.

But thinking of the Jing Kingdom army’s consecutive defeats in recent days still filled Yang Yi with considerable irritation.

He had expected that Great Jin had been consumed by internal strife for years, and furthermore had long favored civil over military affairs, with no renowned generals emerging. The military’s grain stores, corrupted by years of graft, were likely hollowed out to an alarming degree.

And the Jing Kingdom’s cavalry excelled at swift, surprise attacks. Once a breach was torn in Jin’s border defenses, the Jing forces — starved and savage as hungry wolves — would pour through like wolves into a flock of sheep, driving deep into Jin territory with barely a pitched battle needed.

But though the conflict he had so painstakingly provoked had indeed broken out, it bore no resemblance at all to what he had envisioned.

First and foremost: Li Chengyi, who should by rights have been punished by the court for “killing” the inspector, had not only been absolved of blame but had actually been given greater responsibilities.

The Li father and son had sat on a cold bench for many years, biding their time and keeping a low profile — but the moment they arrived at the frontier, they had immediately displayed their brilliance!

Moreover, in the northern territories of Great Jin over the past few years, the border defenses had seemingly been undergoing nothing more than routine repairs and maintenance. The intelligence gathered by his spies had indicated as much, and from the outside there appeared to be no significant additional fortifications.

Yet when the two armies had actually clashed, it became clear that in just a few years’ time, a great many moats had suddenly appeared along the frontier, the city walls had been built considerably thicker, and the grain reserves were far more abundant than expected — they did not even need to draw on supplies dispatched from afar.

To fight a defensive war while sitting atop a mountain of provisions behind impregnable walls — there was nothing more comfortable than that.

The Jing Kingdom, by contrast, had pressed too eagerly, and within just a short while had exposed the hollowness of its strength.

For this, Yang Yi had not escaped the frequent rebukes of his current father-in-law, Ankhu Khan.

With Great Jin now clearly gaining momentum, Ankhu too was eager to bring both nations back to the negotiating table.

And so a new delegation had already been dispatched — though this time, in addition to the envoys for the negotiations, a new, colorful addition had been made: Ankhu’s youngest daughter, Adana, was also to be sent to Great Jin as a gift for His Majesty, to adorn the imperial harem with fresh splendor.

And Yang Yi’s reason for summoning Situ Sheng was precisely to ask him to personally escort and look after this Jing Kingdom princess — a delicate, pampered creature — and ensure her smooth entry into the imperial palace.

Situ Sheng, however, had no interest in listening to his scheming intrigues. He said coolly: “I did not come to hear all of this. Where have you hidden my mother?”

Yang Yi smiled at him: “Though you are very disobedient, you are still my son. What father does not hope for his son’s well-being? Once you return to the capital, if you receive word from me again — so long as you act accordingly — I promise that by year’s end I will arrange for you and your mother to be reunited. At that time, you may live freely with whichever merchant woman you please… I will not go back on my word!”

For some reason, as Yang Yi spoke those words, they carried an indescribable air of melancholy and finality.

Situ Sheng did not so much as glance at him, and was about to turn and leave.

Yang Yi looked at his retreating figure and said lightly: “I know that Great Jin’s remarkable turnaround in the northern territories this time has much of your handiwork behind it. I do not blame you for that — who else was responsible for your upbringing but my father? Even the thoughts in your head are the same kind of rigid, impractical thinking as his. But do not overestimate yourself. A dynasty rotten to the core cannot be held up by a few backbones alone! You cling stubbornly to your own convictions, devoted in your foolish loyalty, and in the end you will have no other fate than your grandfather’s — a corpse on the battlefield, your head and body in different places — while the glorious name he purchased with blood and sweat was used by that dog-emperor as so much waste paper, to wipe his own reeking backside!”

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