#162: “Wuyi” (2)

Later, the official from the Ministry of Works visited the Duke’s residence once more, delivering a second letter into Gu Juhan’s hands.

It turned out that Qi Jingchen had made such a contingency plan—if Gu Juhan had rejected the first letter, this second one would never have reached him.

The matter contained in the first letter was monumental, yet Qi Jingchen had safeguarded this second one even more carefully. Could it be that, in his mind, there was something even weightier than treason and reigniting war?

Gu Juhan opened the second letter, only to find—to his astonishment—that it mentioned Shen Xiling.

Qi Jingchen stated that he was willing to offer ten times the wealth contained in the wooden box as Shen Xiling’s dowry, sending her to marry into Northern Wei and become Gu Juhan’s wife.

The shock this revelation caused Gu Juhan was no less profound than before.

…Shen Xiling.

The woman with whom he’d briefly crossed paths.

A month prior, he had happened upon her by chance on a bustling street. At the time, he was burdened by the crushing defeat of the northern campaign. On the road, he saw commoners bullying southerners who had come north. Initially, he had no intention of intervening, but through the crowd, he noticed that despite being harassed, the southern woman still shielded a beggar child in her arms. This act stirred something within him, prompting him to step in and help.

Before intervening, he hadn’t seen her face, but once he did, it was impossible not to be struck by her beauty.

She was breathtakingly beautiful, clearly well-bred and nurtured with care. Her gaze was pure and clean, and when she smiled faintly, it was heart-stirring. One couldn’t help but wish to linger in the waves of her eyes and share long, endless years with her.

Just one glance was enough to stir his heart.

But before he could even exchange names with her, he realized she already belonged to someone else.

And that someone was none other than Qi Jingchen.

Her bright-eyed expression when she turned back to see him stepping down from the carriage on the street that day had left him startled. The way she ran toward him was resolute, as if nothing in the world could ever separate them. And Qi Jingchen—cold and unfeeling as he appeared—looked at her with an unmistakable tenderness. Though his affection wasn’t overtly displayed, it was deeply entrenched, evident even from afar. Their bond was palpable, an atmosphere into which no one could intrude.

Gu Juhan understood this immediately and reined in the fleeting thoughts he dared not voice to others. He told himself to forget her—she was merely a fleeting encounter, a wisp of misty rain that had momentarily swayed his heart. But it wasn’t enough to grow into anything deeper; the stirring in his heart hadn’t even fully formed before he dispersed it. Naturally, he could let go easily, gracefully, and appropriately.

Yet now, Qi Jingchen wanted him to marry her.

For a moment, Gu Juhan didn’t know how to feel about this.

If he were to analyze his feelings carefully… first came astonishment.

Qi Jingchen was a man of methodical action, not one to indulge in reckless decisions. Gu Juhan quickly found the reason behind this in the latter half of the letter—it had to do with the woman’s lineage. She was of the Shen family bloodline of Liang, the daughter of Lord Shen Qian.

The downfall of the Shen family four years ago had been a major case, known throughout Jiangzuo and even heard of in the north. What Gu Juhan hadn’t expected was that Qi Jingchen had the audacity to secretly protect her and shield her for so many years. Now, he likely sensed the signs of impending exposure, and with the Qi family in peril, he no longer had the means to continue protecting her. Thus, he decided to send her away—only by leaving Liang could she survive.

The ruler of Liang would never allow her to leave easily, as she could serve as a pawn to incriminate Qi Jingchen. For her to leave Liang, there had to be a perfect pretext, and marriage might be the most plausible explanation. Simultaneously, this would also provide a legitimate avenue to transfer wealth—Gu Juhan would receive ten times the riches contained in that wooden box.

Ten times…

What an astonishing sum. And Qi Jingchen’s devotion to the woman named Shen Xiling… was equally staggering.

His family was on the brink of ruin, a time when they desperately needed money, yet he was willing to relinquish everything just to save her life.

He loved her so deeply, and yet, in the end, he was personally sending her to marry another.

Even though Gu Juhan knew nothing of their history and had no deep ties with either of them, he couldn’t help but sigh with melancholy, even feeling a faint pang of sorrow.

The unpredictability of life, the twists and turns of love and hatred—it was all so capricious.

He allowed himself a brief moment of reflection before beginning to assess the value of this proposal.

With this fortune, he could secure provisions for the army for nearly a year—a year that would be enough for him to reclaim lost territories and even push the borders further into Jiangzuo. If the war ended within a year, the remaining wealth could be meticulously managed for future use, freeing the Gu family from dependence on the Zou clan for military funding.

Exchanging a marriage agreement for such an outcome was undoubtedly worthwhile, especially since he already harbored a certain fondness for the woman named Shen Xiling.

He was going to marry her.

Gu Juhan felt a trace of stunned disbelief, followed by a faint flicker of joy. Yet, after the initial delight, guilt crept in—she wasn’t his to claim. Was this taking advantage of someone in a vulnerable position?

He wasn’t sure.

But in the grand scheme of things, personal emotions became inconsequential. He wouldn’t abandon such a vast fortune out of guilt toward her. He had to reclaim lost territories for Wei, and ensure his family’s enduring prosperity.

The decision was final.

In May, Wei tore up the recently signed Jihe Peace Treaty and declared war on the Southern Court.

Compared to the previous war’s hasty preparation, Wei this time was far more prepared. Gu Juhan personally led the troops, securing Yongzhou in a surprise attack during the first battle. Unlike before, they weren’t hindered by supply shortages. Within half a month, they captured another province, greatly invigorating Wei’s court and populace.

The Southern Court, however, was in disarray.

They had assumed that the last northern campaign had severely weakened Wei, ensuring a decade of peace. They never imagined that just a few months later, Wei would sharpen its blades again.

How utterly outrageous!

The generals of Liang were caught off guard, hastily donning armor and mounting horses to respond. But how could they possibly match the composed and well-prepared General Gu? Barely a month into the battlefield, they suffered repeated defeats, their morale shattered and their faces smeared with disgrace.

General Han Shouye, unfortunately, encountered Gu Juhan again in Jingzhou. This time, free from the constraints of the Privy Council, he could finally display his supposed tactical brilliance. But without the “brat” he had often complained about, General Han became utterly disoriented. His mind went blank, and the war cries of Wei’s army terrified him to the core. Even after mustering courage with strong liquor, he was quickly defeated again by the godlike General Gu.

Panicked and at a loss, General Han could do nothing but vent his frustration in the military tent by cursing the incompetence of his subordinates, then berating the strategists, followed by blaming the ordinary soldiers. When there was no one left to curse, he shamelessly petitioned the imperial court, pleading for the emperor to temporarily pardon Qi Jingchen and urgently dispatch him to the frontlines to stem the tide of defeat. Otherwise… otherwise, the Wei forces would cross the river!

In truth, even if General Han hadn’t submitted this petition, the emperor already understood that this time, he couldn’t kill Qi Ying anymore.

Speaking of it, the first year of Jihe was truly a year of dramatic ups and downs. Xiao Ziheng had finally ascended the throne, and at the start of the year, a ceasefire treaty with Wei had been signed. It seemed like a promising beginning, full of renewal. He had successfully seized evidence against the Qi family and was just one step away from completely toppling them.

Everything had been exactly as he had dreamed.

But fate seemed to enjoy playing tricks. Just when success was within reach, everything reverted to square one: war erupted between the north and south again, and he had no choice but to continue relying on Qi Ying.

How laughable.

The new emperor was a deeply calculating figure, yet even he was unsettled by these tumultuous swings. Over a month passed, and he still hadn’t regained his composure. In the end, he couldn’t resist and personally visited the Tingwei Prison.

To see the Grand Secretary.

Young Master Qi and this prison seemed fated—he had visited three times now. The first two visits were to see others, but this time, it was finally his turn to be imprisoned.

Since the public trial in May, he had been locked up, charged with harboring remnants of the Shen family and harboring rebellious intentions. These charges were grave. Previously, Young Master Qi had only been stripped of his power, but now he was outright dismissed and thrown into the Tingwei Prison for interrogation. The sole silver lining was that his family hadn’t been executed yet—they were merely under house arrest, awaiting judgment.

As for him, he wasn’t as fortunate as the Qi family. In fact, he endured far more than his elder brother, Qi Yun. Lu Zheng, the Chief Justice of the Tingwei, personally oversaw his interrogation. From May to June, the questioning hardly ceased.

Though Lu Zheng usually appeared spineless, bending to whoever held power, such men were often the cruelest when it came to self-preservation, stopping at nothing. He knew he had thoroughly offended the Qi family, and if the Grand Secretary ever regained power, there would be no good days left for him. Thus, he was determined to extract something from Qi Ying’s lips, forcing him to confess and sign a statement to close the case swiftly, lest complications arise.

That day marked the twenty-first day of Qi Ying’s imprisonment. His body was drenched in blood, repeatedly lashed with salt-soaked whips, leaving him almost unrecognizable—an appalling sight.

Lu Zheng gestured for the torturers to pause momentarily. With a hint of exasperation, he approached Qi Ying, scrutinizing him from head to toe, and said, “Lord Qi, I advise you to confess and sign. Prolonging this isn’t beneficial. Moreover, angering the emperor might implicate your family further. Why bring unnecessary suffering?”

He lectured earnestly, but Qi Ying remained silent, leaving Lu Zheng somewhat disheartened.

This Second Young Master Qi truly lived up to his reputation as the former head of the Privy Council. Having witnessed countless interrogation methods, perhaps the torture techniques of his own office were even harsher than those of the Tingwei. Had Lu Zheng been too lenient, rendering the past month’s coercion ineffective?

Lu Zheng was troubled. He wanted to escalate the punishment, but Young Master Qi’s authority still carried significant weight, especially among scholars. Many officials of humble origins in the court were closely watching this case. Former Grand Scholar Wang Qing of the Hanlin Academy was still leading protests with students outside. If Qi Ying were to lose an arm or leg, it would be difficult to explain to those people…

Lu Zheng was at a loss, unsure how to proceed. However, he didn’t have to deliberate for long—the emperor himself arrived at the Tingwei Prison.

Having served as Chief Justice for many years, Lu Zheng had never encountered the emperor visiting a prison. Naturally, he was deeply alarmed, assuming the emperor had come to reprimand him for failing to produce results after nearly a month of interrogation. He immediately knelt to beg forgiveness.

When the emperor arrived, his face was as cold as water, sending chills down everyone’s spines despite the scorching heat of June. Lu Zheng trembled with fear, but to his surprise, the emperor didn’t dwell on his failures. Instead, he ordered the prison cleared so he could speak privately with Second Young Master Qi.

Upon hearing this, Lu Zheng’s heart skipped a beat, sensing a shift in the winds. But he dared not ask questions and quickly arranged for the emperor’s request to be fulfilled.