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Lu Jinxiu clutched a bundle filled with valuables to her chest, emerging from the crowd covered in dust, silently cursing her misfortune.
If it hadn’t been for the shipwreck, she would already be aboard a vessel leaving Lidu Prefecture by now. She had repeatedly suggested to Xie Jun that they leave before the situation worsened. To her surprise, the entire Xie household refused to budge, vowing to defend Lidu Prefecture to the death alongside the city.
Ever since her daughter’s death, Lu Jinxiu had become like a frightened bird. One moment, she cursed the Qi forces for killing her daughter; the next, she trembled uncontrollably at every rumor, convinced the sky was about to fall.
She had fled secretly without informing anyone in the household, intending to wait until the crowd thinned before finding a way onto a ship. Unexpectedly, she ran straight into one of the Xie family’s servants.
The servant politely yet firmly gestured for her to follow: “Madam Lu, Master Xie requests your return home.”
There was no chance of leaving today. Lu Jinxiu’s heart sank.
In the Xuan Ying Hall, most of the family gathered. Xie Queshan was among them. Outside, the city was in chaos, but here, laughter and conversation filled the air. The atmosphere carried a subtle artificiality, as though everyone was burdened with worries but striving to maintain appearances, pretending everything was normal—or even more harmonious than usual.
Xie Jun struggled to join the younger generation’s idle chatter, but he sat patiently, frowning in silence for a long while before suddenly blurting out something seemingly unrelated: “If you don’t want to fight anymore, then stop. Come home. The family can afford to support idlers.”
Xie Queshan was taken aback and looked up at his father.
Just as the hall fell silent, Lu Jinxiu was dragged back in. Her disheveled appearance drew attention immediately. Upon hearing Xie Jun’s words, her previously listless demeanor turned fierce, and she lunged forward, grabbing Xie Jun’s sleeve.
“How dare you protect this wretch? Hasn’t he already ruined this family and this city enough?!”
Xie Jun brushed her off, his expression darkening. “Enough of your nonsense! —Someone, escort Madam Lu back to the inner chambers. We’ll deal with her attempted escape tomorrow!”
“Escape?” Lu Jinxiu was incensed by the accusation. She violently shook off the maids holding her and stood up, her eyes bloodshot with hostility. “Only fools stay in this city waiting to die! Do you still think the Xie family is the backbone of Lidu Prefecture? The city is doomed, and all of you are just fish on a chopping block, waiting to be slaughtered!”
The rumors swirling outside the walls were softened when they reached the courtyard. Even during wartime, people maintained a veneer of dignity. But now, the usually demure and quiet woman tore away the pretense, exposing the ugly truth so bluntly that everyone was left speechless.
Xie Jun remained seated, his face impassive, though he seemed to age instantly. He glanced at those gathered in the hall and said slowly, “Years ago, I abandoned Lanzhou and fled west, committing a grave mistake—a regret I carry to this day. Today, I will not abandon Lidu Prefecture. Even if the city falls, our Wangxue Manor can still hold. Protecting even one more civilian for another moment or another day—I would not regret it. But it seems I am forcing others against their will… Anyone who wishes to leave, regardless of status or position, whether master or servant, may go now. I will not stop you.”
Yet no one rose. They all sat quietly, even the servants standing respectfully with their hands clasped, unmoving.
Lu Jinxiu spun around in a frenzy, realizing no one supported her. It made her appear as the only coward afraid of death. “What are you all doing? Pretending to be noble even as death looms? Who are you putting on a show for? Do you all want to die?”
She assumed everyone wanted to live but was merely pretending to save face. By tearing away the veil of shame, she thought she’d provoke a reaction—but there was none. She looked like a clown, her resentment with nowhere to vent. Finally, her gaze landed on Xie Queshan—the “culprit.”
Pointing at him accusingly, she screamed, “You killed Xiao Liu, and now you’re going to kill the entire Xie family!”
Lady Gan Tang quickly interjected, scolding her: “Xiao Liu was killed by the Qi forces. What does Xie San have to do with it?”
“It was his letter to Xiao Liu that split her from the emperor and led her to divert the Qi forces! If not for that, how could Xiao Liu have died?” Lu Jinxiu was hysterical, beyond anyone’s control.
The letter…
Xie Queshan remembered. Xiao Liu’s belongings had been sent back to Wangxue Manor after her death. The letter he had written to her must have been among them, seen by Lu Jinxiu.
She was right—Xiao Liu’s death was indirectly his fault.
Xie Queshan froze, his mind blank. All he could feel was Nan Yi’s hand gripping his, which gradually became him clutching hers tightly.
“He killed Xiao Liu! He killed Pang Yu too! He deserves to die for his crimes!”
Suddenly, her hand wrenched free from his grasp. Her figure blurred as she stepped in front of him, covering his ears with both hands.
Xie Queshan stiffened, forgetting to look up at her face. All he saw was the swaying jade pendant at her neck.
The sharp, hysterical screams became muffled and distant, yet they still thundered like rolling explosions in his ears.
“My poor child, this ill-fated pair, can only meet again in the underworld! He’s a debt collector, dragging our entire family to hell! And you’re still protecting this beast! He deserves to die! Listen to me, listen to what they’re saying outside! If he dies, Lidu Prefecture might still be saved!”
“Take her away!” Xie Jun’s face turned ashen with rage as he shouted.
As Lu Jinxiu was dragged backward, she still refused to give up, grabbing whatever she could find and hurling it at Xie Queshan. Nan Yi shielded him with her back, and just as a cup was about to hit her, Xie Queshan quickly pulled her aside. The cup shattered on the ground.
Nan Yi was both shocked and furious. She turned to glare at Lu Jinxiu, her face flushed with rage, the last remnants of her rationality swept away. How dare she throw a cup at Xie Queshan? Fine! If going crazy was all it took, she could do that too!
Enraged, Nan Yi charged forward, pointing accusingly at Lu Jinxiu’s nose: “How dare you use Xiao Liu as a shield! You know perfectly well who’s responsible for their deaths! If you want to run away, go ahead, but don’t blame others for your cowardice! With a mother like you, if Xiao Liu has any awareness in the afterlife, she’d be ashamed of you!”
Slap! A resounding slap echoed through the hall as Lu Jinxiu, humiliated and infuriated, broke free from the maids and struck Nan Yi with full force, leaving bloody scratches on her face. For a moment, Nan Yi froze, then lunged forward like a madwoman, ready to claw back at her.
Seeing the situation spiral out of control, the maids quickly regained their senses and restrained Lu Jinxiu.
But Nan Yi wasn’t done yet. Xie Queshan hurriedly wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her back, but she was still in a fit of rage, flailing her limbs and hurling insults at Lu Jinxiu.
“Go ahead! Aren’t you so strong? If you’re so eager for revenge, why haven’t you killed any Qi soldiers? Heck, I’d respect you if you even cursed them twice! Do you dare?”
“You country bumpkin! You—you adulterous wretch! You have no shame!”
Nan Yi’s strength was terrifying now, and Xie Queshan practically had to lift her off the ground to restrain her. She clung to a pillar with one hand, refusing to let go, continuing to trade insults with Lu Jinxiu: “You can’t do anything except bully your own family! You know how much Xie Queshan loved his sister and cherished his friends—only because these words can truly hurt him do you dare say them! Do you know how many battles he’s fought on the edge of death? Do you know how much time he’s bought us to defend Lidu Prefecture? All you’ve done is run away at the first sign of trouble—what credit do you have?”
“Enough, Nan Yi.”
Xie Queshan finally spoke, cutting her off. Nan Yi fell silent, turning to look at him with anger and confusion still burning in her eyes.
How could he just let Lu Jinxiu insult him like that?
She hadn’t felt the sting of the slap, but seeing his calm expression made her heart ache. A surge of bitterness welled up in her chest, tears brimming in her eyes, large droplets trembling on her lashes.
Xie Queshan gently touched her blood-streaked cheek, his face etched with helpless sorrow.
“It’s really enough.”
“They know nothing, yet they slander you! Why should this be enough?! How can it be enough?!”
But her questions went unanswered. The room fell into an oppressive silence.
Nan Yi felt utterly suffocated. She wanted to storm into the streets and argue with every single person who dared to speak ill of him. She craved a clear yes or no answer, not this twisted reality where black was called white. She didn’t know who to blame—she was even angry at Xie Queshan for swallowing these injustices silently without defending himself.
Brushing off his hand, she stormed out in a huff.
Just then, she brushed past Tang Rong, who had just entered.
Still clad in armor, Tang Rong rushed into the hall. He had recently returned to active duty and rarely stayed at Wangxue Manor, so his sudden appearance must mean urgent news.
“Master, an envoy from the court has arrived. Magistrate Song requests your presence at the camp for a meeting.”
Noticing the tense expressions in the room, Tang Rong quickly added, “It should be good news.”
...
The envoy was Zhang Zhicun.
Once the son-in-law of Princess Xu Kouyue, he had been captured along with the royal family by the Qi forces. To humiliate him, Wanyan Jun forced him to become his horse servant.
Perhaps out of fear, Zhang Zhicun acted meekly before Wanyan Jun, even kneeling on the ground to let Wanyan Jun step on him to mount his horse. He became the laughingstock of the city, but he discarded all dignity, laughing along with those who mocked him, no longer resembling the proud man he once was.
In truth, his humiliating survival was part of a deeper plan. Secretly, he joined Bingzhu Division, becoming another crucial intelligence line for Shen Zhizhong within the Qi forces. It was his information that revealed the existence of Da Man. After Wanyan Jun’s death, he seized the opportunity to escape and returned to Jinling.
Xu Zhou, having waited too long for Song Muchuan to arrive in the capital, realized that Xie Zhu might not have delivered his handwritten decree to Lidu Prefecture. Regardless of Xie Zhu’s reasons, his unwillingness to save Lidu Prefecture was clear. Yet among the ministers, Xu Zhou no longer knew whom to trust.
At this point, Princess Xu Kouyue recommended Zhang Zhicun, who had just returned south. Given secret orders by the emperor, Zhang immediately set off for Lidu Prefecture under cover of night.
In the camp, Zhang Zhicun relayed the emperor’s verbal command to Song Muchuan and Xie Queshan, urging them to return to the capital to clear their names. To prevent the Qi forces from crossing the river after breaking through Lidu Prefecture, the court had already amassed a large army in nearby Huaishuo City. Once the court agreed to deploy reinforcements, the troops in Huaishuo could march immediately to Lidu Prefecture, giving them a fighting chance against the Qi forces.
However, this development had come too late. The best opportunity had already slipped away. Even if Song and Xie were to head to the capital now, the ministers had already formed their biases. They would need more time to prove their innocence, and there was no guarantee of success. How much time would this cost? The battle was at a critical juncture—could they afford to wait? Moreover, with two key generals leaving, Lidu Prefecture’s defenses were already on the verge of collapse.
Another impossible choice loomed over them, and the camp fell into deep contemplation.
The enemy was also racing against time to break through their defenses. It seemed that every struggle they faced was against the clock—or perhaps, it was simply fate playing its cruel games.
“We have no choice but to take a gamble,” Ying Huai broke the silence. “If reinforcements don’t arrive, we’re fighting alone. We can’t possibly hold Lidu Prefecture!”
“What about the lives of all the civilians in the city? Are you willing to gamble with that?” Xie Queshan asked.
Ying Huai fell silent.
Three days—this was the limit of how long he could hold the city. With morale already unstable, even three days might be overly optimistic.
Zhang Zhicun seemed to hesitate, his face betraying uncertainty. Perhaps trying to compose himself or simply stalling for time, he lifted the boiling kettle and poured water into a tea bowl, preparing tea for everyone.
Song Muchuan noticed Zhang Zhicun’s unease and said, “Lord Zhang, if you have any thoughts, please feel free to speak.”
But Zhang Zhicun said nothing, instead briskly whisking the tea.
Xie Queshan watched his movements, unexpectedly entranced. The process of making tea was more or less the same for everyone, but each person had their own unique style. Zhang Zhicun’s hands appeared to have been injured at some point; his movements were quick yet used only three or four parts of his strength, causing the foam on the tea to rise more slowly. Xie Queshan was reminded of the last time he had seen someone prepare tea in the camp—it was during his confrontation with Wanyan Puruo. Inevitably, he recalled Wanyan Puruo’s practiced technique, and suddenly, a shocking realization struck him like lightning.
It was too similar.
Wanyan Puruo’s movements overlapped almost perfectly with the memory of his third uncle’s tea-making technique. And his own method of making tea had been passed down directly from his third uncle—he knew it all too well. At that time, however, his attention had been focused elsewhere, completely missing these subtle details.
This realization sent a chill down Xie Queshan’s spine.
“Did my third uncle say anything about Lidu Prefecture?” Xie Queshan asked abruptly.
“To avoid suspicion, Lord Xie has remained silent…” Zhang Zhicun replied, following his line of thought, but quickly realized the underlying implication of Xie Queshan’s question at this moment. “His Majesty also found it strange and subtly probed Lord Xie, but nothing unusual was detected. Do you suspect… there’s something wrong with him?”
Xie Queshan didn’t answer. His mind raced through everything, piecing it together. He had always wondered who Da Man was and whether they were still alive, but he had overlooked the person closest to him. Now that he finally understood, he wasn’t surprised at all.
Everything made perfect sense. “Da Man”—in this codename, he glimpsed his third uncle’s frustration and ambition. Once an idealist who devoted himself selflessly to the dynasty, when had he stopped shouting for change? The betrayal of such a person was terrifying—they stripped themselves of their ideals and created an extreme new one. This was the most insidious danger of all. When night fell, only the former night watchman knew the dynasty’s weakest points.
Xie Queshan now knew who his opponent was. But he had missed the best opportunity.
If his mentor-like, fatherly third uncle wanted him to lose, what chance did he have of winning?
Seeing Xie Queshan fall into prolonged silence, Song Muchuan also caught on, his face rapidly draining of color.
“Is Lord Xie… Da Man?”
“If he is, then our path to clearing ourselves in the capital has likely already been blocked.”
Zhang Zhicun stared down at the poorly prepared tea in his hands, its quality as poor as his state of mind. He sighed deeply, the words almost spilling from his lips. He had mulled over this idea repeatedly on the way here—it was the last resort when no other options remained.
He too had once been a spy in the Qi forces, one of the few who could truly empathize with Xie Queshan. Fortunately, Princess Xu Kouyue had cleared his name, allowing him a chance to redeem himself with a good ending.
He hoped Xie Queshan could see the light of day as well.
But his plan was incredibly risky.