Hearing Yang Yi’s words, Situ Sheng could not help but halt his steps.

He did not bother to turn around, only said coldly: “You too were raised by my grandfather — so why do you not understand your own father? He was a man of easy, open nature, with a heart that embraced the four seas. He was never the sort to be a blockheaded loyalist devoted to any single man. Back then, knowing full well that the court was corrupt, that Prince Tai was consumed by selfish ambition, and that he was building his own faction within the military — and knowing that he and Prince Tai were at political odds and would therefore inevitably suffer for it — yet he unhesitatingly answered the call in that moment of crisis and marched to the battlefield… It was only because he always said that the good men of the army were not merely servants of imperial power. What mattered most was to guard the ten thousand miles of mountains and rivers, the fathers and mothers of the homeland. Imperial power changes, reign names are altered, but the common people living upon this land will be preserved, generation after generation, by the steadfast guardianship of hot-blooded men — and that will remain unchanged through ten thousand ages! That is the true meaning of taking up arms and serving in the military! A selfish man such as yourself — even if you had listened, you would never have understood!”

Having said this, Situ Sheng had no desire to waste further words. He quickened his step and left that person he found utterly contemptible behind him.

Situ Sheng had no wish to share memories of his grandfather with Yang Yi.

Nor would he ever tell him that in the year of the Battle of Fushui, his grandfather had long since resigned himself to dying on the battlefield, wrapped in his horse’s hide.

His grandfather had once pointed to the great fires the herdsmen of the grasslands would set in autumn, and with grave and earnest feeling had said to his young eldest grandson: “After a great fire, the new grass that grows the following year will be all the more lush. As the saying goes, when misfortune comes, who knows if it may not turn out to be a blessing? Today we may have no sure prospect of victory — but if a small defeat for a time can awaken the court, and make those civil officials lay aside their factional fighting and unite against the common enemy, that too may not be such a bad thing.”

At that time, Situ Sheng had not yet understood the weight of sorrow buried in his grandfather’s words.

Yang Xun, while striving with every ounce of his strength to keep the battle from deteriorating too badly despite the complete cutoff of grain and provisions, had also prepared himself to be offered up as a scapegoat by those officials who cared for nothing but their own factional struggles.

But his grandfather had never imagined that the defeat would be so catastrophic and complete — and that the entire Yang Family would be plunged into utter, inescapable ruin because of it.

The “great fire” had long since burned out.

And he, a wandering soul who ought to have died on that battlefield, had by a fluke survived in the world of the living — taking a new name, a new identity — and was trying in another way to act in his grandfather’s stead, to coax some spark of life from the scorched earth left behind by that great fire.

Yang Yi heard his son’s words and could only give a cold laugh.

The hatred stored within his heart was something that could not be extinguished by a few impassioned words from some green-eared young man.

His purpose today had been accomplished. There was no need to linger here too long. He thought of a “former acquaintance” he had another appointment with, and turned to leave swiftly with his men.

Though the imperial mission was now complete, Situ Sheng still had some private individuals he needed to meet.

Among them were no small number of civilian righteous fighters resisting Jing — a few of them bore names so renowned that Chu Linlang had even heard them spoken from the mouths of teahouse storytellers.

And the most renowned of them all was the leader of the volunteer army: Shang Min.

Another crucial task Situ Sheng had on this trip was to offer Shang Min, the volunteer army’s commander, a formal amnesty and persuade him to come over to the court’s side.

The court was desperately short of capable generals. With only the Li father and son, there was a danger of having only a lone pillar to prop up the sky. Situ Sheng therefore had to find additional skilled fighters and commanders to support the Li family’s forces.

Those selected through the military examination would not be without potential as future generals. But men of talent on the battlefield are not tempered by books — they are forged in the crucible of real fighting with real weapons.

And in this moment of urgent need for capable people, to find some seasoned and ready commanders — was that not like adding wings to a tiger?

The go-between who had brought both sides into contact for this occasion was Sui Qiye.

The old gentleman had traveled north and south throughout his life and made many friends among the chivalrous men of the rivers and lakes. He had once crossed paths with Shang Min in the Xiang west region and had also saved Shang Min’s aged father.

Such a debt of kindness was naturally something Shang Min held close to his heart. All the more so since he knew that Sui Qiye was one of the admirable Yang Family soldiers — a personal attendant general of General Yang Xun.

So even if Shang Min had no interest in the court’s lackeys, out of respect for Sui Qiye, he decided to come and meet with him at least.

The place chosen for their meeting was a pleasant pavilion nestled among the mountain ravines of the northern territories.

Backed by a flowing stream, with a relatively open field of view and no easy places to conceal an ambush in the surrounding area — it was the kind of place where one could feel at ease.

Shang Min’s subordinates had not been in favor of their commander walking into potential danger, but Sui Qiye thumped his chest and gave his guarantee, saying that this Lord Situ had set up nothing more than an ordinary family-style feast and would not bring any guards.

And so Shang Min swept his great hand, silenced the protests of his subordinates, and came himself with only his military advisor and one attendant — three people walking into the meeting with no weapons but their courage.

He trusted Sui Qiye’s character and believed he would not become a pawn of the court. Out of respect for Sui Qiye’s life-saving debt to his father, he would go and meet this so-called newly risen favorite of the court.

He had heard it said that the official was a young man of only twenty-five — who in just a few short years had soared from third-place imperial examination graduate to his present lofty position, and was now one of His Majesty’s most trusted intimates.

Men like this were nothing but slippery, calculating court rats, with nothing but honeyed deception pouring from their mouths. He would go, listen without speaking, drink his wine, and get up and leave — that was all there was to it!

When they arrived, it did indeed have the feeling of a family-style feast. The pavilion table was already laid with various roasted and marinated meats, and several jars of fine wine had been opened.

Seated composedly within the pavilion was a young man of exceptional bearing — this must be the Privy Council Chief Lord Situ that Sui Qiye had described, a first-rank official in the court.

Though he had known the man would be young, Shang Min was still taken aback. He had not expected this newly risen court favorite to be such a refined and distinguished-looking man of handsome features.

This new court favorite was not dressed in his official robes, appearing as though he were genuinely meeting a friend. He had even brought along a beautiful female companion.

That woman was standing by a warming brazier, dressed in a pale lotus-pink long skirt, a jade pin in her dark hair, her entire form possessing a natural and graceful charm.

When she saw him arrive with his companions, before anyone had spoken, the bright-eyed young woman was already unfurling her brows in a smile and turning to ask Sui Qiye beside her: “Is this imposing, distinguished gentleman the renowned Commander Shang?”

After Sui Qiye nodded, that woman smiled and walked over to Shang Min, bowing to him with easy, natural composure: “Seeing the real person is better than hearing all the descriptions — the storytellers paint Commander Shang as a man with thick, connected sideburns, leopard eyes, and a wide mouth. How absurd! What stands before me is clearly a jade-faced general of fine features and extraordinary bearing!”

The several men who had come to meet with these government forces had all been holding their breath inwardly, guarding against the glint of blades and the shadow of traps.

But the first one to smile and greet them turned out to be a woman with skin as fair as snow, brows and eyes full of warmth — radiating a kind of cheerful, heartwarming friendliness.

This had rather the effect of a spring breeze on the few men who had been holding themselves taut.

Once they were seated, Sui Qiye gave a brief introduction of both parties, then casually picked up a plate of meat, took the jar of wine Chu Niangzi had poured for him, and settled himself on a large stone below the pavilion to drink by himself in leisure.

This sort of negotiation and bargaining was not to Sui Qiye’s taste. Better to leave it to the young people to work out the terms.

As conversation flowed, Shang Min suddenly realized that the woman he had taken for a singing girl, brought along to serve wine, was in fact a female proprietor with shops in the capital, gold mines in the northwest, and a considerable commercial enterprise. The well-known shipping fleet that had recently made a name for itself in the northwest was in fact under this proprietress Chu’s ownership.

And from all appearances, she was also this Lord Situ’s beloved companion — when they sat down, she took her place quite naturally beside the handsome lord.

Shang Min had not come with any intention of accepting amnesty.

He had simply given Sui Qiye a little face, come to pay back the social debt — nothing more.

Every righteous person who had voluntarily joined the volunteer army to resist the Jing Kingdom’s invasion had seen through the corruption and incompetence of Great Jin’s official forces, and had decided to seek another path. The tragic fate of the Yang Family was a cautionary tale right before their eyes — they had no desire to entangle themselves with the scheming and backstabbing of the court.

But this man who had come to offer the amnesty was so unexpectedly young and refined — not at all what Shang Min had anticipated — and the atmosphere was so relaxed and informal that it actually made one question how sincere the court’s overtures truly were.

Shang Min had not come here to talk or to drink — now that he had come and given Sui Qiye his face, a couple of cups of wine and then an exit would suffice.

And so he exchanged a glance with his military advisor and attendant.

The military advisor — a man named Wu — raised his cup and said: “You have come to the northern territories, my lord, and here you are our guest while we are the hosts. Let us first offer you a cup in welcome. However, before we came, we made it clear to Sui Qiye: we will drink wine and eat meat, but we will not discuss our future prospects… My lord, do you agree?”

These words from the military advisor were plainly intended to seal Situ Sheng’s mouth and prevent him from rashly raising the subject of “amnesty.” They were setting out the unpleasant truths in advance, so that if this official brought up amnesty again, he could not blame them for rising and leaving.

Before Situ Sheng could speak, that proprietress Chu smiled and picked up the thread of conversation: “Only drink and food — what is the interest in that? We are not here merely to discuss drink and food — we are here also to talk of flowers and snow and moonlit nights, of soaring mountains and flowing waters! In this life, to have chanced upon one another like this — naturally, wherever the mood takes us, that is where the conversation shall go!”

The military advisor narrowed his eyes and was about to reply, but Chu Linlang laughed again and continued: “But speaking of food and drink — those are precious things indeed up here in the north. The Jing Kingdom is currently suffering a grass shortage, and the court, in order to tighten its grip on them, has once again sealed the grain routes in the north. Even the private grain trade, which used to go largely unregulated, has been banned. This has made things difficult for someone like me who does business — I have goods stockpiled but simply dare not ship them north. The local common people are all right — they have grain they can go to the local government office to collect. But for those like you, volunteer armies who are not registered on any official roll, how do you intend to survive the winter without grain?”

Shang Min and his companions had originally felt a mild, rising irritation at this woman’s frequent interruptions.

But unexpectedly, her topic, after winding this way and that, landed squarely on their most vulnerable point, catching them completely off guard.

With the northern grain routes sealed, it was not only the Jing people who were strangled — it equally strangled the guerrilla operations of their volunteer army.

Without grain, even if they had gold and silver donated by civilian righteous supporters, it was entirely useless.

Confronted with this matter of life and death, Shang Min could not avoid it. He looked toward Lord Situ and asked frankly: “May I ask, my lord — does the court also intend to use this measure to exterminate our civilian volunteer armies?”

Situ Sheng, seeing him voluntarily raise the topic of “future prospects,” replied with equal frankness: “All of you are heroes from among the people who have resisted the invaders. His Majesty holds you in high esteem. You must have heard that this year’s imperial military examinations have been expanded through a special grace — His Majesty hungers for capable people. And so I have come to ask Commander Shang: are you willing to submit to the court and, under the command of General Li in the northern territories, join together in the fight against the Jing forces?”

Since things were now being said plainly, Shang Min was equally direct: “Those of us who founded the volunteer army did so on the strength of righteous passion alone. We can resist the enemy without joining the Jin army.”

Situ Sheng heard this and said calmly: “A single thread cannot make a cord; a lone tree cannot make a forest. If you and your men were willing to join forces with the Li Family army, I believe the situation in the north would undergo a great transformation.”

Shang Min gave a dismissive smile: “You are a civil official — you do not understand the principles of warfare. But have you ever seen a large man get beaten in a wrestling ring? Bulky and heavy, if there is no nimble mind to go with the body, the bigger the frame, the harder the beating!”

He was plainly mocking the Jin army as having no capable generals — that going to join them would be nothing more than adding to the pile of ash.

But that proprietress Chu, hearing this, widened her eyes and, with no regard whatsoever for the mood of the gathering, declared: “Oh! That makes no sense at all — I simply do not believe it!”

Shang Min laughed despite himself. Though this woman repeatedly interrupted, a woman of such remarkable beauty — even if her manners were less than perfect — one could forgive her with no great effort.

He even found himself with the leisure to tease her: “Battles are not won by build or height — so what would it take to make Proprietress Chu believe me?”

Chu Linlang tapped her wine cup with her chopsticks: “Do you think I can’t see through you? You are taking advantage of my lord’s youth and have not put him in your eyes at all. Don’t let the civil official exterior fool you — he has a martial spirit too. If you don’t believe me, why not have a bout with him? Then let me see for myself — does a bigger frame really mean one takes harder beatings!”

Compared to Shang Min, Situ Sheng was taller by more than a little.

But in Shang Min’s eyes, this Situ Sheng, in his long scholar’s robe with every gesture imbued with the gentle refinement of a man of letters, did not look like the sort who could take a punch.

Was this woman fanning the flames to stir up trouble — was she perhaps bored of this lord and looking to trade him in for a new backer?

Even the attendants at Shang Min’s side could not suppress their amused snickers, whispering: “Our commander once cut through more than ten Jing enemies in a single battle — if your lord goes through with this, is he not courting death?”

But Situ Sheng, hearing this woman’s reckless provocation, responded by nodding with what appeared to be a slight overestimation of his own abilities, then turned to ask Shang Min: “Proprietress Chu speaks well. Today we have wine and meat, flowers and snow and moonlit nights, soaring mountains and flowing waters — naturally there is also the meeting of friends through martial arts, the exchange of skills! I have practiced martial arts since I was small and learned some boxing techniques from my grandfather. I do not know whether Commander Shang would be willing to honor me with a sparring match?”

Shang Min too had downed a cup of fine wine and was feeling it rise faintly to his head. Looking at this young, headstrong hothead who was rushing into getting himself beaten, he saw no reason not to oblige.

And so he could not resist another dismissive smile. He clasped his hands in salute and said: “Only — fists know no mercy. If I hurt you in a moment, my lord, please do not hold it against me!”

As he said this, he glanced at Sui Qiye.

He was uncertain what kind of relationship this young Situ had with Sui Qiye, and was debating how much to hold back so as not to put Sui Qiye in an awkward position.

But Sui Qiye, as if his connection with Lord Situ was only so-so, did not intervene at all, and instead, just like that Proprietress Chu, watched with enthusiasm as the excitement escalated — raising his cup, lifting his bowl, already having selected a prime viewing spot on the open ground beside the pavilion.

Very well. The King of Hell cannot stop a ghost intent on dying.

Since it was thus, Shang Min decided — he would let this newly minted court favorite, who fancied himself a man who had learned a few days’ worth of boxing, understand what it meant to “seek one’s own death and leave no way out”!

If the man begged for mercy, he would pull his punches and that would be that.

Chu Linlang, though she was the instigator who had set fire to all of this, stood now with a serene smile on her face holding her wine cup — while inside, the great drum of her heart was thundering loudly.

Using the cup to shield her lips, she asked Sui Qiye quietly: “Sui Qiye, you know both men’s martial skills. You said before that my lord could hold a slight advantage within fifty moves — are you certain of that estimate? Could it be off?”

Linlang knew that Situ Sheng’s martial arts were formidable, but he was, after all, a civil official — not like Shang Min, who lived his days licking blood from the edge of his blade.

If Sui Qiye’s estimate was wrong and Situ Sheng ended up floored by Shang Min a moment from now, how were they to continue the negotiations?

At that very moment, the two had already taken their positions in the open space.

Since it was a sparring match, no weapons were used.

Situ Sheng did not even remove his long robe. He simply tucked the hem into his waistband, then gestured to his opponent that they could begin.

When the two men engaged and began to fight, their punches cut through the air with a singing sound, their figures shifting and wheeling like a soaring dragon and dancing phoenix. Those watching were transfixed, their gaze riveted — even their breathing forgotten in the gusts of the fists.

But Sui Qiye had still not answered Linlang’s question. His bright, sharp eyes remained fixed on the two figures locked in combat, his brows drawn slightly together. After watching for a moment, he said briefly: “I estimated wrong!”

Chu Linlang was so tense she was biting down on her wine cup, her voice trembling: “Don’t tell me — something this serious, and you got it wrong too. Is my lord going to lose?”

But just then, only a muffled grunt was heard from Shang Min, who stumbled back several steps and crashed to the ground — then, not willing to submit, clambered back to his feet with indignation on his face, all mockery and contempt gone, and charged at Situ Sheng again in dead earnest.

Meanwhile, Shang Min’s military advisor and attendant stared with eyes wide in disbelief, seemingly unable to accept that their own commander had just been knocked flat like a burst waterskin — by a Great Jin civil official.

Only then did Sui Qiye say with great solemnity: “I had expected young Shang Min to last all fifty moves. I did not expect that the lord has already mastered the Yang Family’s sixty-ninth boxing technique of capture and control to a point of consummate perfection. Shang Min could not even hold out for twenty moves!”

Now Situ Sheng moved his fists and arms with freedom, his leaps and sidesteps carrying an effortless, elegant ease — and a certain composed, agile suppleness.

It was abundantly clear: the capture-and-control techniques passed down exclusively through the Yang Family proved extraordinarily effective in this sort of bare-handed, close-quarters combat!

Only then did Chu Linlang let out a long breath.

On the matter of how to bring Shang Min into the fold, Situ Sheng had in fact gone through countless rounds of private deliberation with her beforehand.

Chu Linlang had learned that Shang Min came from a martial arts family with deep roots in the escort trade, which valued marksmanship and physical prowess above all else. She had grown up dealing with such men from the escort companies and understood their ways and temperament better than anyone.

These people had reverence for martial might carved into their very bones.

Situ Sheng was no celebrated statesman or great scholar. Though he held high office, he had no reputation as a warrior. A man of his age, trying to win over these rough and tumble men of the rivers and lakes with a few words — that would be the height of wishful thinking.

Linlang had finally offered her counsel with the bold and direct spirit of the rivers and lakes: since words were insufficient, why not first knock him flat — and then talk!

As it turned out, this approach had indeed proven immediately effective.

When Shang Min had been felled again and again by this young civil official, using techniques bizarre and impossible to anticipate, his entire sense of the world had gone floating and unmoored.

The feeling of having his pride ground into the dirt — somehow, it was oddly liberating.

Shang Min, bearing the pain in his back, managed to steady himself. In a daze, yet with a heart full of genuine admiration, he clasped his fists to Situ Sheng in a respectful salute and said: “I am inferior in skill! I yield and bow to your superiority! Only — I do not know, sir, from whom you learned — how can you possess such formidable ability?”

Situ Sheng clasped his hands in return and said: “Commander Shang is too modest. It was something I learned from a departed soul — merely some skill for self-defense and keeping the body strong. On a real battlefield with real weapons, such ornamental fist-and-foot work would be worth nothing at all.”

His words were well-measured, and could also be said to have preserved some face for Shang Min.

When they all sat down again after this, the atmosphere had shifted unmistakably.

Chu Linlang understood clearly: her role in smoothing the social terrain was now complete. She could step aside and let the men talk serious business.

And so she made the excuse of tending to the roasting meat and withdrew to the grill by the stream, where she joined the servants and maids in roasting the meat.

The conversation that followed went on for a full two hours — far longer than anyone had anticipated.

By the time it ended, even the charcoal had burned out and gone cold.

Shang Min had shed every trace of the contempt he had carried when he arrived. For this young official who, despite his years, was thoroughly versed in the conditions of the northern territories — and who even understood military strategy with the fluency of a seasoned general — Shang Min’s admiration was now complete and whole-hearted.

He had heard this man was a newly risen favorite of His Majesty, highly trusted and employed.

He had assumed him to be the sort of sycophantic schemer who clawed his way to the top through flattery — but he could never have imagined that what he would find was a man of both literary and martial gifts, a true pillar of the state!

If the entire court of Great Jin were composed of men of such genuine ability, what audacity would the Jing wolves and tigers have to bully Great Jin?

Chu Linlang was not privy to the content of their discussion, but she could see that Shang Min was now willing to consider Situ Sheng’s proposal.

Only this was not a decision he could make alone — he still needed to go back and consult with his brothers first.

Apart from Shang Min, Situ Sheng subsequently made contact and held meetings with a number of other volunteer armies in the northern territories.

But such matters could not be publicized or made known — not even mentioned before His Majesty.

These volunteer armies had originally been a source of serious concern for Great Jin. How to integrate them was a subject of endless dispute in the court.

And Situ Sheng’s actions this trip clearly carried the intent of presenting a fait accompli — establishing the facts on the ground first, then reporting to the court, and thereby circumventing all the mutual bickering and obstruction of those officials.

As a result, the journey was delayed somewhat.

So much so that relay station riders kept arriving from the capital with urgent messages, conveying that His Majesty was anxious and requesting Situ Sheng to return to the capital without delay.

On the return journey, they happened upon provisions ships turning back from grain transport and could travel by water, moving with the current — naturally far smoother than the journey out had been.

Linlang had returned to the capital a step ahead of him. But the moment she got home, an invitation from the Third Imperial Prince’s residence had already arrived. The Third Imperial Prince’s consort, who ordinarily kept deeply to herself, seemed unable to bear having her close friend away for so long and was eager to have her visit.

Chu Linlang had also been thinking she should go and see Tao Yashu first. After all, this trip had brought back a person closely connected to Tao Yashu — and regardless of whether the outcome would prove good or bad, she should give her some forewarning.

And so Linlang, after washing up and changing her clothes, went directly to the Third Imperial Prince’s residence.

The Third Imperial Prince’s residence was markedly different from the other princes’ residences — not only was its location remote, but it was deserted and cheerless at its gates. Were it not for the guards standing at the entrance, it could have been mistaken for some gloomy ghost-prince’s manor, cold and eerie.

Tao Yashu, now a princess consort, had already exchanged her maiden’s hair style for a married woman’s coiffure, yet still wore little powder or rouge, and sat in the front hall of the Third Imperial Prince’s residence waiting for Linlang’s arrival — the inner quarters of the Third Imperial Prince’s residence were a forbidden zone by His Majesty’s explicit decree: apart from the Third Imperial Prince’s Consort and the servants attending her, no visitors whatsoever were permitted to enter, so as not to disturb the ailing Third Imperial Prince’s “rest.”

Before Chu Linlang could even ask how she had been keeping lately, Tao Yashu had already dismissed all those in attendance.

When the last person had withdrawn and gone, Tao Yashu took Chu Linlang’s hands in hers, her lips trembling faintly, and said in a low voice: “Linlang — did you go with Situ Sheng to the northern territories? Who exactly… did you bring back with you?”

Hearing this, Chu Linlang could not help but be inwardly startled. Situ Sheng’s journey had been made under secret imperial orders, conducted with great discretion.

Chu Linlang had therefore naturally not told Tao Yashu in advance that her husband might be returning.

Then why did Tao Yashu speak as if she had somehow known in advance, and had asked this question before they had said a word?