Chapter 47: Nanling (2)

Upon hearing this, Xu Zhengning’s lips curled faintly into a smile.

As one of the twelve divisions of the Great Liang Privy Council, Xu was responsible for covert operations and had an ear to the ground. He knew more about the officials in court than most others. For instance, this Jiang Yong—though he now pretended to live frugally amidst wartime conditions—was actually quite wealthy. Before Qi Yin and Xu arrived, it was rumored that Jiang hosted lavish feasts with roasted sheep and cattle in the camp. His current display of austerity was nothing but a façade to cultivate a reputation as a humble and virtuous commander.

Xu glanced at Qi Yin from the corner of his eye. The young man appeared calm, seemingly oblivious to Jiang’s schemes, even showing a flicker of approval. Qi Yin replied, “General, you flatter us. These are times of war; such simplicity is only appropriate.”

Jiang Yong caught that fleeting trace of approval in Qi Yin’s eyes and felt reassured, a smug satisfaction swelling within him.

He didn’t know much about this newly appointed Deputy Chief of the Privy Council, Qi Jingchen. The Qi family was the foremost noble house of Great Liang, their scions born into privilege. Men like Jiang Yong, of humble origins, rarely interacted with such aristocrats. He had seen Qi Jingchen twice before, both times at banquets hosted by princes and dukes. Back then, Jiang had been under the protection of Han Shouye, whose influence granted him the opportunity to attend.

Qi Jingchen had always been surrounded by admirers, basking in the glory of youthful success. Not only was he born into immense wealth and power, but now he also wielded real authority, overseeing the military affairs of the Privy Council.

Such a figure was envied by all, yet Jiang Yong harbored a hint of disdain.

What made Qi Jingchen so special? If he weren’t the legitimate son of the Qi family, if he didn’t have a father who served as the Left Chancellor, how could someone so young ascend to such a high position? Jiang Yong had fought tooth and nail for decades to build his career, while Qi Jingchen—a mere youth—had effortlessly become his superior simply because of his noble birth. And now, Jiang Yong had to grovel on the hillside for hours just to welcome him into the city. How unjust!

Though seething with resentment, Jiang Yong dared not offend Qi Yin. He maintained a facade of deference, exchanging pleasantries with his superiors, before cautiously asking, “Young Master Qi has traveled a thousand miles to reach Nanling. May I inquire…?”

Qi Yin set down his chopsticks, accepting a cup of tea from Qingzhu. Calmly, he replied, “General, rest assured. My visit here is without ulterior motives. I’ve only recently assumed my post, and given Shicheng’s current importance, it’s only natural that I come to inspect the situation.”

His demeanor was composed, revealing nothing. Jiang Yong couldn’t tell if his words were genuine or a ruse. He feared Qi Yin might be deceiving him, perhaps acting under the emperor’s orders. After all, Xu Zhengning—the notorious “Executioner” of the Privy Council—had accompanied him. Such a presence was chilling.

Who was Xu Zhengning? A man who specialized in covert missions, with countless lives on his hands. Over the years, how many traitors of Great Liang had fallen to his blade? The number was incalculable.

Jiang Yong’s hair stood on end, though he kept his composure. The welcoming banquet became a tasteless ordeal, and he remained distracted even as he escorted the two officials to their quarters.

Returning to his quarters, Jiang Yong spent the entire walk pondering Qi Yin and Xu Zhengning’s words and expressions, especially Xu’s. He feared Xu might have already uncovered his secret—that he had surrendered to Wei. Anxiety gnawed at him. Entering his room, he was startled to see a shadow seated in the main hall, sending chills down his spine.

Jiang Yong swiftly drew his sword, his voice low and sharp. “Who’s there!”

The shadow approached slowly. Dim moonlight filtering through the window revealed the intruder’s face. Jiang Yong recognized him—one of Wei’s spies planted in Shicheng.

Relieved, he sheathed his sword, though his brows remained furrowed. In a hushed tone, he scolded, “Are you out of your mind? Officials from the Privy Council are staying in this very residence! Do you want them to cut off your head and throw it into the river?”

The shadow’s expression remained impassive, his voice cold. “If the general continues to act so timidly, no wonder the Liang army hasn’t engaged in battle for months. Are you not afraid that General Gu will question your loyalty to Wei?”

Jiang Yong’s heart sank. He realized Gu Juhan must already be dissatisfied with him. Bitterness welled up inside.

He hadn’t intended to defect to Wei. Last year, during the catastrophic defeat at Shicheng, Gu Juhan had captured him. That young general of the Gu family—perhaps a warrior star descended from the heavens—had routed the Liang forces. Jiang Yong, believing death was inevitable, was astonished when Gu offered him a chance to surrender in exchange for information about General Han Shouye’s whereabouts. Faced with survival, who wouldn’t comply? Jiang Yong immediately divulged the information, nearly costing Han Shouye his life.

Han narrowly escaped death, and Shicheng eventually returned to Great Liang’s control. Gu Juhan stationed his troops on the northern bank of the Yangtze, preparing for another offensive in spring. He released Jiang Yong back to Shicheng while Han recuperated in Jiankang due to his injuries. Jiang Yong thus became the commander of Nanling, secretly planted as a mole by Gu Juhan to provoke the Liang forces into battle. Though reluctant, Jiang Yong had little choice. Having betrayed Han once, Gu held leverage over him. Any disobedience, and Gu would expose his defection. Even without Gu lifting a finger, the Privy Council would ensure his execution.

Gu Juhan yearned for battle. Over the past few months, he had sent multiple messages urging Jiang Yong to open the gates and engage. Jiang Yong wanted to cooperate, but since Qi Jingchen’s appointment, the Privy Council had issued seven edicts forbidding combat. He was trapped.

Caught between a rock and a hard place, Jiang Yong softened his tone. “Please ask General Gu to forgive me. I assure you, I’ve done everything in my power. However, the Privy Council’s decrees are absolute, and now that Qi Jingchen himself has arrived in Shicheng, even if I wished to urge battle, I simply cannot…”

The shadow remained cold, unmoved. “General Gu is not unreasonable. He understands your predicament. However, our forces have been stationed here for months. Without action soon, General Gu will struggle to justify this to our emperor.”

Jiang Yong nodded repeatedly, prompting the shadow to continue. “General Gu has a message for you.”

Jiang Yong quickly responded, “Please, speak.”

Under the cold moonlight, the shadow’s voice carried a chilling edge. “Turn peril into opportunity. Use murder to provoke war.”

Jiang Yong frowned. “This…”

The shadow’s eyes narrowed, a glint of murderous intent flashing. “Kill Qi Jingchen.”

Jiang Yong’s face turned ashen!

He never imagined Gu Juhan harbored such intentions! Who was Qi Jingchen? The son of Left Chancellor Qi Zhang, the most distinguished figure among Great Liang’s noble families, and now a trusted minister of the emperor! Killing Qi Jingchen would incur not only the wrath of the court but also the fury of the Qi family. There would be no end to the retribution!

But after the initial shock subsided, Jiang Yong understood Gu Juhan’s reasoning.

If Qi Jingchen were killed, Jiang Yong could claim the act was perpetrated by Wei. This would incite the Liang army to break the truce and engage in battle. Even if the provocation failed initially, the Great Liang court would surely demand vengeance, making war inevitable.

However…

“However,” sweat trickled down Jiang Yong’s forehead, his voice trembling, “Perhaps General Gu doesn’t realize… Qi Jingchen’s death would unleash unimaginable consequences. The court alone wouldn’t let it go, and the wrath of the noble families would follow. This wouldn’t be settled with just a battle at Shicheng…”

The shadow smirked faintly. “General, Wei has never feared war. If this act sparks greater conflict, it aligns perfectly with our emperor’s wishes. Just carry out the task. No need to overthink.”

Jiang Yong wiped the cold sweat from his brow, attempting to dissuade further, but the shadow interrupted sharply. “What? Are you planning to betray Wei after already betraying Liang?”

The biting remark left Jiang Yong speechless. He hastily assured the shadow otherwise, watching as the figure slipped out the door and disappeared into the darkness.

The moonlight was cool, the sound of the river’s tide echoing softly.

Xu Zhengning approached Qi Yin’s door, noticing the candlelight still burning inside. Just as he raised his hand to knock, the door opened from within. Bai Song, Qi Yin’s personal attendant, greeted him with a bow, holding his sword. “Master Xu, the young master awaits you.”

Xu raised an eyebrow. He had heard Bai Song possessed extraordinary hearing, but he hadn’t expected it to be this acute. As a martial artist himself, Xu moved lightly, yet Bai Song had detected his presence immediately.

Nodding at Bai Song, Xu stepped inside.

Inside, his superior was engrossed in a game of chess, with the green-clad servant standing behind him. Upon seeing Xu, Qi Yin rose courteously to greet him and invited him to sit.

Xu took a seat across from Qi Yin, observing the intricate interplay of black and white pieces on the board—a game that had clearly been ongoing for some time.

He heard Qi Yin ask, “Master Xu visits late at night. Has something occurred on their side?”

Xu replied, “Your foresight is remarkable, sir. Jiang Yong is indeed a traitor. Tonight, he met secretly with Wei’s spies in his quarters. Following your instructions, I refrained from alarming them, but to avoid detection, I couldn’t get close enough to hear their plans.”

Qi Yin placed another piece on the board, his expression unchanged, and nodded. “You’ve worked hard, Master Xu.”

Seeing his calm demeanor, Xu couldn’t help but ask, “Surely, sir, you already have an idea of what’s happening?”

Qi Yin withdrew his hand from the board, meeting Xu’s gaze with a faint smile. “It’s not difficult to guess. The order to prohibit battle came from me. Now that I’m personally in Shicheng, Gu Juhan, eager for war, likely wants Jiang Yong to kill me and use my death to incite conflict.”

Xu was momentarily stunned. After serving in the Privy Council for over a decade, he had witnessed countless matters of life and death, yet rarely had he encountered someone as young as Qi Yin discussing their own mortality with such equanimity.

Frowning slightly, Xu expressed concern. “Sir, Gu Juhan has stationed his forces on the northern bank for months, determined to fight. If your prediction is correct, then…”

Qi Yin understood Xu’s implication but chose not to respond. Xu’s brows furrowed deeper as he urged, “Before this journey, His Majesty instructed me to ensure your safety. Jiang Yong is insignificant. Since we’ve already caught him red-handed, why not eliminate him? Why risk your life unnecessarily?”

After Xu finished speaking, Qi Yin calmly placed a black piece on the board, the soft click echoing in the room. His features bore the refined elegance unique to nobility. He replied, “Master Xu’s reasoning is sound. However, I am rather lazy in handling matters and lack your patience. Our purpose in coming to Nanling extends far beyond dealing with a mere Jiang Yong.”

Xu was taken aback. “What do you mean, sir?”

Qi Yin looked up, his tone serene. “Our mission is to compel Wei to retreat.”

Xu froze.

Wei’s retreat? Gu Juhan had stationed his forces on the northern bank for months, fully committed to this battle. He knew Qi Yin was a man of great vision, but as a scholar-official, could he really force Gu Juhan—a master tactician—to withdraw?

Though skeptical, Xu observed Qi Yin’s unshakable composure and the aura of stability he exuded. Strangely, he found himself believing that Qi Yin could achieve the impossible.

After a long silence, Xu rose and bowed deeply. “If you can save our nation from calamity, then all shall be done according to your will.”

Qi Yin glanced at Xu and stood to help him up.

He knew Xu was a man of integrity, prioritizing Great Liang’s welfare over personal ambition. A few years ago, Xu had been offered a promotion to the Ministry of Ceremonies—a position higher in rank and more lucrative than his role in the Privy Council. Yet Xu declined, choosing to remain in the Privy Council, handling tasks stained with blood.

In the few short months since Qi Yin joined the Privy Council, each of the twelve divisions had its strengths and weaknesses. While Xu might not have been the most efficient, his dedication to serving the nation was unwavering. To sacrifice oneself for the country was not an empty phrase for him.

And now, Qi Yin needed precisely such a person.

He said to Xu, “This is not merely your nation’s calamity but the plight of all the people of Jiangnan. Those who eat the sovereign’s food must share his burdens. It is my duty, and you need not trouble yourself.”

Xu gazed at Qi Yin, his eyes solemn. Qi Yin knew Xu still harbored doubts but chose not to elaborate further. Instead, he said, “It’s late. You should retire early.”

After Xu left, Qi Yin remained awake, writing letters by lamplight deep into the night.

Qingzhu stayed by his side, noticing something unusual about his master’s movements. Upon closer inspection, he saw a slight pallor in Qi Yin’s face.

Qingzhu was alarmed. “Master, is your stomach pain acting up again?”

Qi Yin didn’t respond, but his left hand instinctively pressed against his abdomen, a layer of cold sweat forming on his forehead.

Qingzhu was both panicked and guilt-ridden. He should have anticipated this. His master had rushed from Jiankang to Nanling, enduring the strain of dealing with those traitors upon arrival. For days, he had eaten very little, inevitably triggering his chronic stomach pain.

Anxiously, Qingzhu asked, “Shall I bring you some late-night snacks? Perhaps warm porridge? What would you like?”

Qi Yin didn’t answer immediately.

This ailment had plagued him for years, exacerbated recently by his exhaustion. The pain wasn’t severe, but it persisted, often unnoticed until it grew unbearable. During busy moments, he sometimes forgot about it, only for the discomfort to intensify later.

Whenever the pain struck, Qi Yin usually lost his appetite. But tonight, as Qingzhu inquired, he suddenly recalled the steamed egg custard he had eaten on the morning of the Lantern Festival. The dish had been beautifully colored, perhaps with a touch of milk, and topped with a layer of tender tofu. Its aroma and texture had brought him comfort.

He suddenly craved that egg custard.

After a moment of silence, Qi Yin sighed quietly and said to Qingzhu, “Bring me a cup of hot tea.”

Qingzhu, about to protest further, saw his master resume writing letters, his silhouette elongated by the lamplight.

With resignation, Qingzhu went to fetch the tea, thinking to himself that tonight, his master would likely stay awake until dawn.