Chapter 58: Maneuvering (2)

Upon hearing this, Han Shouye’s expression shifted.

Zeng Yi, the commander of Fancheng, was also one of his protégés—much younger than Jiang Yong and with far shallower roots, making him easier to control. The positions of commander in Fancheng and Shicheng were of equal rank, so Zeng Yi’s transfer could be considered a lateral move. However, given that Shicheng was now a critical stronghold and Gu Juhán’s forces were already showing signs of retreat, Zeng Yi’s transfer would essentially hand him an effortless victory. Once the turmoil in Shicheng subsided and the emperor rewarded those who contributed, Zeng Yi’s promotion was almost guaranteed.

This young man from the Qi family had clearly calculated using Zeng Yi as a replacement for Jiang Yong to placate Han Shouye.

Hmph… Not bad at all.

Han Shouye’s anger began to subside, but he kept his face stern, unwilling to show any sign of satisfaction too soon. He let out another cold snort and said, “Don’t think you can fool me so easily. When you executed Jiang Yong, you dared to claim you were cleansing my household, even arrogantly asserting I wouldn’t hold it against you. Are you so certain I’ll bow to your father’s influence and spare you from retribution?”

As his words hung in the air, he noticed a subtle shift in Qi Yin’s expression—from calm to something deeper. He assumed the younger man was growing angry, but instead heard him sigh heavily, his face clouded with concern.

Qi Yin had many reasons for executing Jiang Yong, though some were best left unsaid, understood only through implication.

The political situation in the Liang Dynasty was complex and fraught with hidden dangers. Since the fall of the Shen family, the imperial court’s attitude toward the aristocratic clans had become unpredictable. With the emperor’s health deteriorating and the second prince deposed due to his involvement in the Shen case, the position of crown prince remained vacant. Between the third prince, Xiao Ziheng, and the fourth prince, Xiao Zitong, a power struggle was inevitable.

The two princes were vastly different. The third prince’s maternal lineage was unremarkable, while the fourth prince’s mother hailed from the Han family, creating a stark contrast in their ties to the aristocracy. The emperor’s stance remained ambiguous, showing no clear preference. Yet, whichever prince ascended to the throne would determine the relationship between the imperial family and the aristocratic clans for decades to come. If Xiao Ziheng became heir, it would signal the royal family’s intent to undermine the clans. If Xiao Zitong succeeded, there might still be room for coexistence.

Though the emperor had yet to make a decision, the third prince had already shown intentions unfavorable to the clans. Under the guise of concluding the Shen case, he was purging the court, perhaps as a warning to the aristocracy. In such a scenario, if this prince found leverage against any of the three major families—Qi, Fu, or Han—it would spell disaster for all.

Jiang Yong, being one of Han Shouye’s protégés, posed a significant risk. If Qi Yin hadn’t executed him under Han Shouye’s name, the third prince could have used Jiang Yong’s alleged betrayal to implicate Han Shouye. This would not only suppress the Han family but also weaken the aristocracy as a whole—a dire outcome for all three families.

Killing Jiang Yong was a swift act, but its implications were vast. Qi Yin had deliberated deeply before making his decision.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t explain all these intricacies to Han Shouye. Casting a subtle glance toward the concealed inner chamber behind him, Qi Yin lowered his voice and said, “Elder Uncle is a man of foresight. Now that the Shen family is gone, the fates of our three families are intertwined—one prospers or perishes together. Jiang Yong had to be killed. If I hadn’t done it, then Elder Uncle would have had to kill him himself.”

Qi Yin’s words were cryptic, but the gravity in his demeanor made Han Shouye’s heart skip a beat. Reflecting on them further, he began to grasp their meaning.

Though a military officer with a fiery temper, Han Shouye was no fool. Having served in the court for decades, he understood the nuances of politics. Qi Yin’s hints, though brief, struck a chord, awakening him to the peril he had nearly stumbled into—the brewing conflict between the imperial family and the aristocracy.

A mere border commander like Jiang Yong, if mishandled, could become a pretext for the imperial family to strike at the aristocracy. As the maternal clan of the fourth prince, the Han family would be the first to clash with the third prince. Should they get dragged into the succession struggle, the consequences would be dire.

At this realization, Han Shouye felt a chill run down his spine.

Seeing the change in Han Shouye’s expression, Qi Yin knew he had grasped the situation’s complexities and inwardly exhaled in relief. After a moment of silence, he broached another matter.

“Elder Uncle,” Qi Yin said, “there is one more thing I wish to ask for your approval.”

Han Shouye, still reeling from the earlier revelation, was somewhat dazed. He replied, “Hmm? Oh, Jingchen, go ahead.”

Qi Yin nodded solemnly and said, “Last year’s defeat weighs heavily on your mind. I know you’re eager to confront Gu Juhán and reclaim your honor. I admire your unwavering loyalty and courage. But the current situation demands restraint—we cannot afford to fight.”

Hearing this, Han Shouye’s brows furrowed.

He understood why Qi Yin had killed Jiang Yong, but he still harbored objections to the Privy Council’s cease-fire order. As a military man, he lacked the intricate political considerations of a scholar-official. Even if he understood them, his warrior’s blood often overruled his reason. All he wanted was to charge into battle, decimating the enemy without hesitation. What did he care for politics? Moreover, his feud with the Gu family made patience unbearable.

Han Shouye responded, “Jingchen, I understand your careful planning and the rationale behind the cease-fire order. But we soldiers wear armor and wield swords, spilling blood on the battlefield—it’s our pride and way of life. Your cease-fire order has forced our troops to cower behind fortified walls. Though I’m not on the front lines, I’ve heard how the Gao Wei scum mock us! How can I swallow this humiliation? How can my generals face the people of Jiangnan? Who will bear the shame when historians write about this a thousand years from now?”

His impassioned words echoed with loyalty, valor, and righteous indignation.

After a pause, he continued earnestly, “Gu Juhán intends to retreat, I hear, because you’ve stirred internal strife within Gao Wei, forcing him to withdraw. Jingchen, yes, you’ve saved the Liang Dynasty once, but this victory came through intrigue and cunning, not noble means! Relying solely on schemes and manipulation in international conflicts—how can this last? We can’t hide forever!”

A long silence enveloped the Forget Room.

Qi Yin’s demeanor remained calm, his phoenix eyes glinting like frost—clear yet piercing.

Looking at Han Shouye, he replied gently, “Elder Uncle’s words are wise, and I’ve gained much insight.”

His tone was slow, his voice deep.

“No one wants to fight a humiliating war. If I had a choice today, I’d prefer to meet Gao Wei head-on and reclaim our lost territories. Lifting the cease-fire order would be easy—I’d only need to stamp my official seal, and our generals could fight Gu Juhán to their hearts’ content.”

“But what then?”

“The Privy Council oversees military affairs, aiming not for brute force but national stability. While open warfare may feel satisfying, a defeat would endanger Jiankang. If we can’t reverse the tide, the nation itself could fall.”

He sighed.

“You’re right, Elder Uncle. This time, repelling the Wei army relied on cunning and intrigue, not noble methods. Not just others—even I find it distasteful. But if such measures can safeguard our nation’s peace, preserve our lands, and spare even one citizen from war’s horrors…”

Qi Yin paused briefly, his phoenix eyes gleaming with resolve. “Even if it costs me everything, I’ll bear it.”

Han Shouye stared at Qi Yin, deeply shaken, for the first time at a loss for words.

Young Master Qi had achieved fame early, hailed as a paragon of Jiangnan’s aristocratic families. Han Shouye had always doubted the substance behind his reputation, dismissing him as overrated. When he heard the emperor had appointed him to lead the Privy Council, he thought it absurd—a naive youth barely past his coming-of-age ceremony entrusted with the nation’s military affairs?

Yet here sat this young man he had underestimated, speaking calmly yet thinking far beyond what most could imagine. The nation, strategy, human lives—all seemed to rest in his hands as he used every means possible to protect this fragile peace.

Vast, self-restrained, and unshaken by storms.

Han Shouye didn’t know what to say. The young man before him now wore a serene expression, even hinting at a smile, as he said, “Everyone knows the cease-fire order came from me, Qi Yin. You and the generals endure it only under pressure from the Privy Council. I’ll bear this blame. Posterity’s judgment matters little to me. I only ask, Elder Uncle, that you refrain from initiating conflict this time.”

Meanwhile, Shen Xiling hid behind the door of the inner chamber, listening intently to every word. Through the narrow crack, she saw Qi Yin’s seated silhouette outside. For some reason, tears welled up in her eyes.

She knew he was always busy, always exhausted, but she hadn’t realized how heavy the burdens on his shoulders truly were. Despite his fatigue, he had always been gentle and patient with her. Apart from those first few encounters, he had never spoken harshly to her, always caring for her tenderly.

…He was like a hero bearing unimaginable weight.

Lost in thought, she snapped back to reality as General Han departed, leaving Qi Yin alone in the Forget Room. Standing amidst the chaos, he turned toward the inner chamber and said, “Come out.”

Startled, Shen Xiling realized he knew she had been awake—and eavesdropping. Feeling embarrassed but unable to hide, she hesitantly opened the door and stepped out.

She looked at Qi Yin, standing amidst the wreckage, and wondered if he had slept at all last night. He looked utterly weary.

Still, his expression remained calm as he said, “Don’t come closer. There’s broken porcelain on the floor.”

Shen Xiling had intended to walk toward him, but respecting his words, she stopped where she was, nervously looking at him.

From a distance of two or three paces, Qi Yin asked, “Did you hear everything?”

Shen Xiling bit her lip and nodded.

For a moment, he didn’t speak. Fearful he might be angry, she quickly apologized, “I’m sorry, I…”

Before she could finish, Qi Yin raised his hand to interrupt her, his expression tinged with resignation. “It wasn’t your fault. No apology needed.”

Indeed, it wasn’t her fault.

Last night, seeing the girl curled up asleep in the chair, Qi Yin decided against waking her to send her back to her own quarters—it would have been too disruptive. Knowing she hadn’t been sleeping well lately, burdened by worries, he let her rest undisturbed. Behind the bookshelves of the Forget Room was a small inner chamber where he sometimes stayed when working late. Last night, he had carried her inside to sleep there.

He hadn’t anticipated General Han’s outburst today or the heated argument that followed. In the chaos, he hadn’t had time to settle Shen Xiling elsewhere, so she had unintentionally overheard everything.

After a moment of silence, Qi Yin said to Shen Xiling, “What you heard today—do not repeat it to anyone.”

Her expression serious, Shen Xiling nodded vigorously, which made Qi Yin chuckle briefly. His smile faded as he added, “Later, I’ll have someone come in to clean up. Wait until it’s safe before you leave. Be careful not to hurt yourself.”

Obediently nodding, she watched as he turned to leave. Her heart tightened, and instinctively, she called out, “Master—”

Hearing his name, Qi Yin turned back, looking at her. “Yes?”

Shen Xiling didn’t know why she had stopped him. Now, unsure what to say, she awkwardly lowered her head.

Qi Yin noticed her dilemma, assuming the young girl feared his departure.

She was like a frightened bird, clinging to him for comfort. Understanding this, he reassured her, “I’ll only be gone for the day. I’ll return tonight.”