#163: “Wuyi” (3)

When Xiao Ziheng entered the cell, Qi Ying was sitting against the wall, seemingly unconscious. Lu Zheng, ever the opportunist, had likely misinterpreted the emperor’s intentions, assuming that His Majesty’s visit to the prison tonight was to pardon Qi Ying. In a desperate attempt to make amends, he had ordered Qi Ying to be dressed in fresh clothes, making him appear somewhat more presentable. However, it did little to hide the truth—Qi Ying’s wounds were still raw and bleeding, a clear testament to the severe torture he had endured.

At this moment, Xiao Ziheng stood towering above Qi Ying in the cold, damp cell. The emotions swirling within him were far from simple satisfaction; instead, they were deeply complex.

Qi Jingchen… He had once been so triumphant, so full of pride. But what of it now? Look at him—fallen so low, reduced to such a pitiful state. Yet, even in defeat, stripped of everything and bearing countless scars, he still possessed the power to summon the emperor himself to his prison cell, asking him to save the nation.

How ironic.

The ruler of an entire empire, who had personally cast this powerful minister into the mud, now had no choice but to swallow his pride and seek him out, as if slapping himself in the face. Xiao Ziheng stood silently, looking down at Qi Ying with disdain, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling of his own insignificance and helplessness—as though he, the emperor, was the one who had lost.

He resented it.

But there was nothing he could do.

Xiao Ziheng clenched his fists tightly.

Perhaps the sound of his footsteps stirred Qi Ying, who gradually regained consciousness. His phoenix-like eyes, streaked with blood, slowly opened. When he saw Xiao Ziheng, his expression was one of submission, yet not surprise—as if he had anticipated this visit all along.

Despite his battered body, Qi Ying struggled to bow to the emperor. Xiao Ziheng’s fists tightened even further.

Here it was again.

That same posture of utmost respect.

He appeared so obedient, so submissive. But inside, he must be mocking him—mocking his wasted efforts, mocking the fact that he still had to come begging for his help! Mocking his pettiness and incompetence!

Xiao Ziheng’s heart burned as if scorched by flames!

But he knew he couldn’t afford to lose his temper. Losing control now would only make him appear more powerless and laughable. He forced himself to calm down, and after a long while, he finally regained his composure. Still, he did not excuse Qi Ying from his bow, merely watching as more blood seeped from his wounds, soaking through the freshly changed clothes.

Xiao Ziheng couldn’t understand why, despite Qi Ying’s apparent humility, he still radiated an air of noble dignity, while he himself, the emperor being bowed to, felt hollow inside.

His peach-blossom eyes darkened slightly. After a long pause, he said, “Rise.”

Qi Ying complied, rising slowly. His movements were sluggish, his face pale, and beads of cold sweat dotted his forehead. Yet, he remained bent at the waist, standing as a dutiful subject, without the slightest hint of overstepping.

Xiao Ziheng averted his gaze slightly and asked, “Do you know why I’ve come here today?”

Upon hearing this, Qi Ying bowed even lower, his voice hoarse as he replied, “Your Majesty’s benevolence is boundless. I presume you wish to grant me an opportunity to redeem myself through service.”

His words were steeped in humility, prompting Xiao Ziheng to sneer. “Redeem yourself through service? Lu Zheng spent over half a month trying to extract something from you, yet you claim innocence. What crime have you committed, my loyal minister?”

Qi Ying lowered his head and answered, “My failures in restraint and conduct are all my fault.”

“Is that all?” Xiao Ziheng’s voice grew colder. “What about the crime of treason?”

His tone sharpened as he bellowed, “Isn’t it convenient that Wei has reignited the war at this very moment—Qi Jingchen, how dare you claim this has nothing to do with you!”

The emperor’s wrathful roar echoed through the empty prison, reverberating ominously and striking fear into the hearts of those who heard it.

Qi Ying remained silent for a moment, showing no trace of panic. Just as he had during his days of immense power, he appeared calm and composed, seemingly indifferent to gains or losses, honor or disgrace, no matter his circumstances.

He said, “I am filled with trepidation. Though I know myself to be lacking in talent and virtue, I have always served you with loyalty, valuing the nation above my own life. I would never dare overstep.”

Xiao Ziheng glared at him coldly, listening as Qi Ying continued, “Moreover, since leaving the Privy Council, I have had no official authority. Even if I harbored such traitorous thoughts, I would lack the means to act upon them. I humbly ask Your Majesty to see this clearly.”

Xiao Ziheng let out a cold snort and countered, “Though you may be temporarily idle, you still have former subordinates willing to die for you—do you think I’m unaware of what Xu Zhengning has done?”

Xu Zhengning.

Qi Ying’s brows furrowed slightly, and he bowed even deeper, replying, “It is true that I entrusted Lord Xu with delivering some letters, but they were merely personal correspondence. I assume Your Majesty has already reviewed them.”

Xiao Ziheng had indeed already seen the contents of the letters.

On the seventh day after Grandmother Qi’s passing, the Privy Council had uncovered traces of Xu Zhengning meeting with Qi Ying in secret within the garden of the Qi family estate. Upon learning this, Xiao Ziheng immediately dispatched men to apprehend Xu Zhengning.

Zhu Wei, one of the twelve division heads of the Privy Council and responsible for oversight, was in charge of this matter. However, Xiao Ziheng did not fully trust Zhu Wei—he had once been under Qi Ying’s command and shared a close friendship with Xu Zhengning. Therefore, Xiao Ziheng covertly arranged for officials from the Tingwei Prison to monitor Zhu Wei’s actions by embedding them among the soldiers and city gate guards. Fortunately, Zhu Wei proved his integrity by intercepting Xu Zhengning at the city gates and handing over the letters entrusted to him by Qi Ying.

Xiao Ziheng had expected these letters to contain something explosive, but upon opening them, he found they were merely personal correspondence from Qi Ying to distant relatives of the Qi family residing in outlying provinces. In the letters, Qi Ying instructed them to remain upright and law-abiding, uphold their duties to the state, honor their family traditions, and so on.

Xiao Ziheng was already aware of the content of the letters; his earlier question was merely an attempt to deceive Qi Ying into revealing more. When nothing came of it, he chose not to pursue the matter further—not because his suspicions had been dispelled, but simply because circumstances left him no choice. He needed Qi Ying to stabilize the nation during this crisis. As for other matters, they could be addressed one by one after the war.

With his resolve set, the emperor did not dwell on the topic further. After a brief pause, he said, “You guessed correctly. I do intend to give you an opportunity to redeem yourself through service.”

Qi Ying bowed deeply and replied, “I am deeply grateful for Your Majesty’s benevolence.”

“Do not rejoice too soon,” Xiao Ziheng looked down at Qi Ying, his gaze icy. “I can reinstate you as head of the Privy Council, but your father and elder brother will no longer be permitted to serve in court. Even you, after the war, will face reevaluation and punishment. Do you accept these terms?”

The prison cell was bitterly cold, yet Qi Ying’s voice remained steady and resolute as ever.

He answered, “I humbly thank Your Majesty for this grace.”

Slowly, he knelt and performed a deep kowtow. The wounds on his body bled even more profusely, yet he seemed oblivious, bowing with perfect formality as if truly overwhelmed with gratitude toward his sovereign.

Xiao Ziheng scrutinized him for a moment, his cold gaze unwavering. Then, he turned and slowly walked away, his figure growing smaller as he departed. His voice trailed behind him: “Return home. I grant you three days to recover.”

Once the emperor’s footsteps faded completely, Qi Ying slowly rose to his feet. By then, opportunistic jailers had already gathered outside, their faces plastered with obsequious smiles, offering to assist Young Master Qi in changing his clothes. Lu Zheng also arrived, though his expression was grim, almost incredulous. Yet, he had no choice but to bow deeply before Qi Ying, who had now regained authority over him, and inquire whether arrangements should be made for his return to the estate.

Qi Ying did not make things difficult for any of them. Instead, he graciously accepted their assistance and slowly stepped out of the prison cell.

As he emerged into the daylight, his thoughts returned to the seventh day after his grandmother’s passing.

It was true that he had entrusted Xu Zhengning with letters—but not just the ones the emperor had seen. There was another letter, later delivered to Gu Juhan, along with one of the two wooden boxes left behind by former Chancellor Shen Qian.

The reason the emperor had not discovered this was simple—

Zhu Wei was also loyal to Qi Ying.

Xiao Ziheng believed that stripping Qi Ying of his official powers would allow him to reclaim control of the Privy Council. But he underestimated the depth of Qi Ying’s influence. After years of managing the council, Qi Ying knew every detail of its operations, including the secrets and personalities of those within. The twelve division heads trusted him far more than they did the new emperor. Moreover, human nature is self-serving; most feared that a change in leadership would lead to favoritism under a new ruler. They wanted to protect themselves, naturally unwilling to see Qi Ying fall from power.

Neither Zhu Wei nor Xu Zhengning were petty schemers, though their situations differed slightly.

Xu Zhengning was the closest associate to Qi Ying within the Privy Council. Having carried out numerous tasks under Qi Ying’s command, he firmly believed that only his superior could shoulder the immense responsibility of saving the nation—a true paragon of loyalty and righteousness. During the northern campaign, Xu Zhengning owed Qi Ying his life, which deepened his gratitude and unwavering faith in him. He trusted Qi Ying so completely that he didn’t even question the contents of the letter before agreeing to deliver it out of Jiankang.

Qi Ying had anticipated that the Qi estate was under surveillance and understood that such a task would inevitably pass through Zhu Wei’s hands. The emperor’s decision to send Zhu Wei to intercept Xu Zhengning served two purposes: necessity and testing Zhu Wei’s loyalty.

Xu Zhengning and Zhu Wei had been friends for twenty years—such friendships are rare and irreplaceable. Zhu Wei was not a heartless bureaucrat; could he really bring himself to harm Xu Zhengning?

Qi Ying knew the answer: he couldn’t.

Thus, he deliberately sent Xu Zhengning to deliver the letter.

That night, Zhu Wei feigned ordering subordinates to engage Xu Zhengning in combat, but in reality, it was a ruse to confuse the Tingwei agents. While they were distracted, Zhu Wei covertly handed the true confidential message to another subordinate within the Privy Council. From there, it was smuggled out of the city—a feat made possible by the council’s expertise in deception. Restraining Qi Ying through this maneuver was far easier said than done.

Qi Ying slowly climbed into the carriage, drawing the curtains shut, blocking out all prying eyes.

At that moment, the expression in his eyes changed entirely, devoid of even a trace of warmth or deference.

Only coldness remained.

Boundless coldness.

Meanwhile, the Qi household was shrouded in desolation.

The once-prosperous estate of the premier family of Jiangzuo no longer exuded the aura of wealth and fortune it had maintained for decades. Word had spread that the family was embroiled in legal trouble, causing commoners to steer clear. Consequently, the entrance to the Qi estate stood deserted, guarded only by a few imperial soldiers tasked with restricting movement in and out of the premises.

Qi Ying paid no heed to the scene, allowing an officer from the Tingwei to support him as he entered the main gate of the estate.

His family awaited him inside—his father, mother, sister-in-law, younger brother, little Hui’er—and there was now an additional infant. His eldest sister-in-law had given premature birth to a frail baby boy, named Qi Tai, with the courtesy name Anran, symbolizing peace and prosperity.

A fine name.

Everyone except his bedridden father rushed out to greet him upon his return. All of them had grown alarmingly thin, their tearful eyes fixed on him. His mother, seeing the blood-soaked wounds covering his body, broke down sobbing uncontrollably, nearly fainting from grief.

Lady Yao, disregarding all else, immediately summoned a physician. Watching her son endure excruciating pain, she was too distraught to cry, reduced to silent weeping.

Despite enduring his own agony, Qi Ying consoled his mother, noting how the despair in his family’s eyes had begun to lift, replaced by a glimmer of hope. This, he thought, was a good sign.

After tending to his wounds, he couldn’t afford rest. First, he informed them that his eldest brother and third brother would soon return home. Though his father and eldest brother would inevitably lose their positions, their lives were spared—a blessing. In a few days, he would depart for Jingzhou to assume command of the war effort, effectively restoring his former position. To reassure his family, the emperor promised not to further persecute them. True to his word, the next day, Qi Yun and Qi Ning returned. Aside from being emaciated, they appeared otherwise unharmed.

Surveying the situation, it was clear that Qi Ying bore the gravest injuries. Yet, he remained silent, seemingly unfazed.

He resumed his duties the very next day, albeit unable to leave the estate due to his injuries. Still, he insisted on summoning officials from the Privy Council and military to convene at the Qi residence to discuss the current state of the war. Though he had struck a secret agreement with Gu Juhan, it did not mean the conflict between their nations was trivial. Wei was fighting with full force, and if Qi Ying faltered, the fate awaiting Liang would be national collapse.

He walked a razor’s edge, unable to pause despite the blood soaking his body. He knew he could not afford a single mistake—failure was not an option. If he stumbled, the entire Qi family would crumble, and…

…and his Wenwen would be lost.

He knew his young girl remained imprisoned in Shangfang Prison. Gu Juhan would not propose marriage until after the war—it was akin to a political alliance, a matter that could only be broached post-conflict. Liang must neither lose nor decisively win this war. Victory would render the alliance unnecessary. Thus, he had to maintain a delicate balance, ensuring her survival.

For now, he could not visit her. Instead, he prepared to depart for the north bank to fight. He understood that only by prevailing, by upholding his value to the nation, could she remain safe.

He also knew she wouldn’t want to see him like this—bloodied and battered. She would be frightened.

He recalled how, back in Shangjing, she had trembled and clung to him tightly after accidentally witnessing a severely wounded Xu Zhengning. She had been terrified then. He dreaded to imagine her reaction if she saw him in his current state—how shattered she would feel.

He didn’t wish for her sorrow, not even the slightest bit.

So he resolved to leave, dedicating everything he had to protecting everyone.

Failure was absolutely unacceptable.