Chapter Seventy-Four

When Gan Sui returned home, his face was ashen and somber. Banxia had rarely seen him like this. She hurriedly instructed Aunt Yang to take the child away and sat down beside him herself.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen at court?” Banxia gently took his hand in hers.

Gan Sui turned to look at her. “Do you still remember Lin You?”

“Of course I do. But that boy really isn’t very loyal. I send him so many things to eat and use every year, but he never even writes me a word in reply. Next time I see him, I’ll definitely make him pay for it.”

“There won’t be a next time. He was murdered during the Lanzhou military supply scandal.”

“What did you say?” Banxia was utterly stunned. A living person, now nothing but dust, and if his body hadn’t been found, he might have vanished without a sound, his bones never returning home.

The two of them fell into silence. That evening, Gan Sui instructed Hanshui to prepare incense, and they burned three sticks facing the direction of Yunzhou. Banxia, without realizing it, was already in tears. Lin You had truly been their first friend in this ancient world. He had helped them so much, yet his end was so tragic.

“Is it truly that good people die young, while evildoers live forever?”

“That’s not the right way to think. Lin You may be dead, but every time we remember him, we honor his memory. He remains in the most beautiful part of our hearts. As for the evil ones, even after death, they’ll be cursed without end. Doesn’t that make things a little easier to bear? I remember once hearing in a film that we don’t live in this world to change it, but to ensure it doesn’t change us. I believe Anzi will be a good emperor in the future. Everything we’re working for now, all this filth and hardship, is so our children won’t have to endure it again.”

“Is that really possible? Or will we just end up being swept aside as obstacles before we succeed?”

“There’s no turning back once the bow is drawn. At this point, all we can do is give it everything we have.”

Banxia was downcast for days. When the ten-day rest period came, Gan Sui took her to a nearby temple to light a lamp for Lin You’s soul. Anzi had also learned of Lin You’s death. He remembered him well—the mischievous smile, but a kind heart. In the dark world of power and desire, every step was as dangerous as walking on thin ice.

Time does not pause for individual joys or sorrows; instead, it rushes on, leaving people breathless. In a blink, it was already August. In Liangzhou, summer brought fierce winds and dry, sandy air. As usual, Gan Sui had to inspect the towns and villages, checking for damage from drought and preparing reports for the court. Over the past six months, he had visited nearly every village, remembered the faces of farmers, greeted them, and asked about their families. The people felt he was a county magistrate with no airs about him. Some elders who loved telling stories would pull him aside to recount old village tales, and Gan Sui never grew impatient. Sometimes, when he heard something interesting, he would ask for more details and share the stories with Banxia at home. His retelling was even more entertaining than the villagers’, and for a long time, Banxia and Anzi were completely enthralled by Gan Sui’s “short story sessions.”

Sometimes, just to tease them, Gan Sui would stop at the most exciting part and say, “I’ll tell you next time.” Banxia, eager to know what happened, would launch a series of “requests for instruction” that were far from innocent and quite unspeakable. Master Gan, entirely self-taught, discovered a new skill in romantic persuasion. How delightful, how worth celebrating.

In August, the war between Liang and Keler reached its climax. Lin Tianyu led his army straight to the Keler capital, where the Keler chief personally came out to surrender and sign the letter of capitulation. He bound up the former eastern campaign marshal, Namu, and presented him to Lin Tianyu.

Lin Tianyu felt a strange chill in his teeth. As a general, every campaign was for his country, yet now the defeated was being cast aside by his own nation. Though they stood on opposite sides, he couldn’t help but feel sympathy.

Namu seemed utterly broken and said not a word on the journey. When he stood before Lin Tianyu, the Keler chief ordered him to kneel and beg forgiveness. Namu stood tall and silent.

The Keler chief was furious. “What are you doing? Bow your head to our honored guest!” Namu had not eaten or drunk for three days, his body was frail, yet he forced himself to stand upright.

He looked at Lin Tianyu and said, “We are both men of the army. Today is but the victor’s day. If you wish to kill or punish me, I have no complaints. But I will never admit guilt. My life as a soldier was never for my own gain, but for my entire Keler people. You people of Liang are timid and self-serving. If not for your fertile heartlands, you would not rule. If I could one day conquer the Central Plains and ascend the throne, my Keler people would fare far better than under your cowardly emperor, who relies on women to secure his crown.”

“Shut up!” the Keler chief burst out.

Namu glared at him. “Today will forever be a day of shame for the Keler—our chief delivers us like cattle and sheep to our enemies. Shame! Such shame…” Unconsciously, he bit through his tongue and ended his own life.

As he fell, there was unmistakably a trace of relief in his final smile.

Lin Tianyu and Namu had faced each other countless times, cursing each other bitterly in battle, yet now, ironically, it was his old adversary who would bury him. In life, differences in position and opinion breed conflict, but once death comes, even the greatest divisions dissolve into dust. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

In September of the same year, good news and the letter of capitulation were delivered to the capital by swift horse, along with word of the long-missing Crown Prince. Qi Nanxing announced this at court. At once, he decreed that the Crown Prince was to be welcomed back to the palace with the full honors due a crown prince.

The words “with the honors due a crown prince” caused an uproar in the court. Marquess Wen shot a glance, and the Minister of Rites immediately stepped forward: “Your Majesty, the Crown Prince’s identity is not yet confirmed. To receive him with such honors might not be appropriate. If someone with ulterior motives were to take advantage, wouldn’t that be dangerous…”

“Minister Wang, who do you think would have such motives? The distinguished General Lin, or me?”

“I would never dare suggest such a thing!”

“The Lin family army has been at the border for ten years, and in all that time, they’ve only lost a handful of battles, with no significant casualties. It’s because of their bloody sacrifice that you all enjoy your carefree lives. Now you tell me they’re plotting something? Would you like to go to the border yourself to investigate the Crown Prince’s identity?”

“I would never dare, Your Majesty…”

“The Crown Prince was found by General Lin, but I have verified his identity myself. There is no doubt. My mind is made up. The Ministry of Rites will see to the arrangements.”

“Court is dismissed.”

His Majesty left in high spirits, leaving the officials staring at each other in shock.

All the ministers of Liang knew of the Crown Prince, but after falling out of favor in childhood and disappearing into the ancestral temples, he was presumed dead. Now, with no other sons born to the emperor, everyone had accepted that the Second Prince was the sole heir. Many had already pledged their loyalty to Marquess Wen, currying favor with the imperial family. After all, the world would eventually belong to the Second Prince. By endearing themselves to the empress’ family, they were sure to be rewarded.

But now, the sudden reappearance of the Crown Prince—though of imperial blood—raised doubts. Having grown up in the countryside, perhaps he was just an illiterate rustic. The Second Prince, on the other hand, had been taught by the best tutors from childhood, versed in the arts of statecraft, and was bound to have the upper hand. Not to mention bearing himself with more dignity—everything in the palace was more distinguished than outside.

People began to choose sides, though some shrewder individuals considered currying favor with the new arrival. Marquess Wen had no need of ordinary flattery, but the Crown Prince had no supporters, and timely help would be remembered forever.

Thus, schemes began to swirl, and the court was in turmoil. Qi Nanxing, however, paid no heed. His and Yun’er’s child was coming home; everything would change.

While the outer court buzzed with rumors, the inner palace was in chaos.

“Madam, have you heard? The emperor is bringing back the late empress’s son, and with the full honors of a crown prince! You must do something!” Madam Wen bustled in, distraught.

“What can I do? His Majesty hasn’t visited me in half a year. My chambers are so cold and deserted I can hear the birds fly by. I could try to invite him, but he never comes. I might as well accept things as they are.” After so many years in the imperial family, all her resentment had faded into resignation. Whatever she did, the emperor would never truly care for her. Perhaps she should never have forced it from the start.

“You mustn’t think like that, madam. Remember how that woman died? If her son takes the throne, what future is there for us? I, an old servant, am of no consequence, but what of the Wen family’s hundred-year legacy? How could I face our ancestors? If it comes to that, I’d rather die now and let you use my body as a plea for mercy.”

Without warning, Madam Wen rushed toward a pillar to end her life. Consort Wen panicked and threw her arms around her. She had lost her mother young, and her nurse had raised her; often, she felt closer to her than to any blood relative. Now, seeing her like this—

“Nanny, don’t hurt yourself. Whatever you want, I’ll do…”

“Are you sincere, madam?”

“Yes, as long as you live, I’ll do anything.”

“Then remember, there can be only one prince in the palace—the Second Prince…”