WNST - 128

Chapter 128: The Return of the Tide

On the day Prince Ling’an departed south from Lidu Prefecture, the streets were deserted as thousands gathered to see him off.  

The places destroyed by the Qi forces had yet to be repaired, and the scars of battles between the remnants of their army and the Yucheng troops still lingered among the broken walls and ruins. Yet as people stepped onto this land, a surging vitality overwhelmed all traces of desolation and decay.  

The prince’s ceremonial procession moved slowly forward, surrounded by a sea of people. Wherever the carriage passed, the common folk knelt in waves.  

But in truth, Xu Zhou wasn’t inside the carriage.  

Though the great crisis had been averted, countless spies from the Black Crow Camp remained scattered, and perhaps some fugitive soldiers were still lying low. Caution was necessary. Thus, Song Muchuan arranged for a decoy to ride conspicuously in the carriage while several hidden guards escorted Prince Ling’an and Princess Di secretly onto the ship.  

Because of this, Xu Zhou was able to stand amidst the crowd.  

The number of commoners flooding the streets far exceeded expectations. Despite Xie Sui’an and a few hidden guards doing their best to shield Xu Zhou, the surging mass of people kept brushing against him, pushing him forward.  

Face after face, real yet unfamiliar, flowed past him like water. The cries of hope and prayers for a new beginning echoed in his ears.

“Long live His Majesty, who revives our great Yu!”  

This left Xu Zhou somewhat at a loss. Instinctively, he turned to look for Xie Sui’an.  

Her attention was entirely focused on their surroundings, her sharp gaze scanning every passerby, maintaining a high level of vigilance. Noticing Xu Zhou’s unease, she paused thoughtfully and then whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear: “They’re not really bowing to you.”  

It was probably meant as reassurance, to ease his tension, but instead, it made Xu Zhou feel even more disheartened.  

He knew full well that this unity of the masses wasn’t due to his efforts—or whether he was Xu Zhou or Xu Ye—it didn’t matter. The people had simply chosen a place to anchor their hopes.  

And that place happened to be his path forward.  

But the force of their cries still shook him to the core, as if lifting him into the air. Looking out at the endless sea of people, he suddenly felt grateful that he wasn’t seated in the lofty carriage above—there, he wouldn’t have been able to hear anything.  

By a twist of fate, he stood among the crowd, unrecognized by those around him. He too was a subject of this dynasty, kneeling alongside everyone else in reverence to that shared hope.  

In the past, his image of the common folk had always been an abstract concept—just names and numbers on census records, representing taxes and labor duties. Books spoke of the people as the foundation of the nation, and though he studied hard, he understood only superficially. But now, in this moment, he began to grasp something new.  

“One day, when they look back on today, I hope they won’t be disappointed in me,” he murmured, clenching his fists tightly.  

Xie Sui’an overheard but merely gave him a deep look, saying nothing.  

“Do you not believe in me?”  

Xie Sui’an smiled. “You don’t need to prove anything to me.”  

“But you must see this—it matters,” Xu Zhou said earnestly, gazing directly into Xie Sui’an’s eyes.  

That look caused a sudden tension to tighten within Xie Sui’an, but she instinctively brushed aside its meaning, joking lightly instead.  

“I’m only here to safely escort you to Jinling—you can’t expect me to become your court lady.”  

“What do you want to do, then?” Xu Zhou pressed seriously.  

Xie Sui’an was caught off guard.  

After a pause, she waved her hand dismissively and laughed awkwardly: “I don’t have time to think about that. Let’s talk after we’ve completed our mission.”  

The drums signaling departure thundered, and the ships set sail.  

The mighty river flowed westward, then eastward, ceaseless for thousands of years—only the fates of men rose and fell.  

---

Jinling  

On the night news of Lidu Prefecture’s great victory reached Jinling, Shen Zhizhong was furiously writing a secret memorial in his study on behalf of his student, Xie Chaoyun, enumerating his achievements and clearing his name.  

However, the next morning, when a maid entered the study, she found him slumped over his desk, dead without a sound—all the documents on the table gone.  

This old minister, who had served two generations of rulers, was about to welcome his new sovereign, yet on the eve of victory, he was abruptly silenced by a cup of poison, ending his fifty years of tumultuous service.  

---

The humid air of the southern return season swirled around Lidu Prefecture, condensation forming on doors and windows. People broke into a light sweat just walking around; everything felt sticky and damp, leaving hearts uneasy.  

After seeing off Xiao Liu, Madam Gantang felt as though a long race was nearing its end. The road ahead seemed clear—if they could just push through, they could finally breathe easy—but the hardships of the past made it hard to let go of the heavy burden weighing on her heart.  

Stubbornly, she poured all her energy into tending to Tang Rong’s wounds, finding an inexplicable hope in watching his injuries heal day by day. It was as if everything could be so simple—as long as the medicine worked and enough time passed, things would slowly get better.  

Perhaps she hadn’t realized it herself, but recently, she’d been seeking out Tang Rong to talk more and more frequently.  

She didn’t have many people to confide in. Since her audacious decision to divorce her husband and return to Lidu Prefecture, everyone saw her as an invincible figure with sharp judgment of the times.  

In truth, she was incredibly fragile, her heart filled only with thoughts of family and friends, constantly plagued by fear. Most of the time, she simply rambled, sharing trivial observations or chatting about mundane household matters, as if trying to escape the lingering unease in her heart.  

But Tang Rong listened patiently every time.  

At this moment, Madam Gantang held a wooden bowl, stirring the ointment inside. It needed to reach the right consistency before being applied to the bandages.  

As she mechanically performed the task, her brows furrowed as she talked to Tang Rong about Xie Queshan. Perhaps feeling protective of her younger brother, her tone carried a hint of reproach: “Lord Zhongshu is truly ruthless. He used to say Chaoyun was his most accomplished student, yet he deliberately pushed him into the fire…”  

Pausing, she sighed: “If not him, it would’ve been someone else’s child. There will always be someone who suffers.”  

“Fortunately, everything turned out fine. Third Master’s identity has finally been revealed.”  

“This is just the beginning. You don’t know how harshly people are cursing him outside. We’ll have to wait until His Majesty arrives in Jinling and works with Lord Zhongshu to clear his name before the whole world will quiet down.”  

“Jinling is in ruins, so it won’t happen quickly.”  

“Three months? Six months? That should be enough. If this goes on any longer, I might end up like Xiao Liu, going out to argue with people.”  

Tang Rong chuckled, but the movement strained his chest wound, causing him to sharply inhale.  

“The doctor told you not to laugh,” Madam Gantang scolded playfully, leaning closer to check the wound under the bandage. Seeing it beginning to heal, she relaxed slightly and teased, “You should learn from my brother and keep a straight face. Then you won’t pull at the wound.”  

Tang Rong suddenly blushed, mumbling a soft “Mm.”  

Madam Gantang looked up and noticed the flush spreading to the back of his ears. The more she stared, the redder his face became.  

She had always treated Tang Rong like a younger brother, but for some reason, this moment felt like stumbling into a forbidden zone in her subconscious. She abruptly took a step back.

Tang Rong, seeing her expression, suddenly recalled a similar scene and cleverly steered the conversation away: “By the way, last time you rushed out of Jingfeng Residence in such a panic—what did you see there?”  

At this question, Madam Gantang’s face flushed red as well.  

Just as the two were caught in an awkward silence, hurried footsteps approached from outside.  

A maid rushed in, panting heavily: “Madam, urgent news from Jinling!”  

“What happened?” Madam Gantang felt a sinking sensation in her chest.  

“Lord Shen Zhizhong of the Zhongshu Office... has passed away.”  

Crash—in her shock, Madam Gantang let go, and the wooden bowl she was holding fell to the ground. The ointment inside slowly seeped out.  

---

Song Muchuan had been appointed as the magistrate of Lidu Prefecture under pressing circumstances and was preparing to reorganize the original garrison troops with the Yucheng Army. Xie Queshan, skilled in military strategy, excelled at these matters but couldn’t appear publicly due to his current identity. Instead, he worked behind the scenes, advising Song Muchuan.  

The news of Shen Zhizhong’s death arrived while they were discussing troop arrangements.  

The room fell silent for a moment. Song Muchuan’s mind buzzed, and it took him a long while to process the information.  

How could Teacher have suddenly passed away?  

He refused to believe it, repeatedly reading the brief report. The words were clear, leaving no room for alternative explanations.  

What about Chaoyun?  

This thought immediately struck him. He turned to Xie Queshan in astonishment.  

“The spies in Jinling haven’t been eradicated yet.”  

These were Xie Queshan’s first words upon hearing the news.  

Song Muchuan finally snapped out of his daze. Behind Teacher’s death lay a brewing crisis far greater than they imagined.  

Xie Queshan remained exceptionally calm. Without hesitation, he picked up a brush and began writing a letter.  

“Send this letter to Xie Xiao Liu—the prince’s whereabouts may no longer be safe. Have them split into two groups: one with a decoy to draw off the enemy, and the other secretly taking the land route to Jinling.”  

Then, as if remembering something else, Xie Queshan urgently asked: “—Is there anyone reliable left in Jinling’s Bingzhu Division to provide support?”  

“Lord Xie, he should be the successor to lead the Bingzhu Division.”  

For some reason, Xie Queshan felt a strange unease creep over him. His pen paused mid-stroke.  

“Forget it. Don’t contact anyone in Jinling—we can’t trust anyone. Inform the prince that he must enter the city and the palace alone, relying on no one else.”  

Xie Queshan hastily finished writing the letter and handed it to Song Muchuan.  

Song Muchuan took the note, looking into Xie Queshan’s eyes, and asked deliberately: “What do you think the Qi forces will do next?”  

Shen Zhizhong’s death was highly suspicious. Though the perpetrator hadn’t been caught, it was undoubtedly connected to the Qi forces. Killing the Zhongshu Lord within Yu territory was already a desperate act, likely triggered by the events in Lidu Prefecture angering Wanyan Puruo, who had torn apart the peace talks. Now, facing the possibility of Prince Ling’an ascending the throne, their blockade had failed. What would they do next?  

Xie Queshan understood Song Muchuan’s implication, and a shadow of foreboding slowly crept across his face.