Chasing Jade (Zhu Yu)

By the time Fan Changyu returned, news of her appointment as Swift Cavalry Commandant had already spread throughout the camp.

Everyone who saw her offered congratulations: "Congratulations, Commandant Fan!"

Fan Changyu responded to these familiar and unfamiliar faces with only slight nods.

Though she had mentally prepared herself, when the day actually arrived, she still found it hard to adjust.

With her promotion came a new military tent, and the number of well-wishers far exceeded those who had come when she was merely a centurion. Most were generals or officers of higher rank.

Fan Changyu dared not be negligent, but the finesse required in social etiquette wasn't something one could master overnight. She struggled to handle it smoothly. Fortunately, the war wasn't over yet, and banquets were inappropriate in the military camp, so she didn't have to host a feast for these visitors.

Faced with the chorus of congratulations, she imitated the gestures of promoted generals she'd heard about from storytellers, clasping her fists and replying to each well-wisher with a "Same to you."

It was only then that she realized the camp wasn't lacking in flatterers.

Several unfamiliar military officers nearly hailed her as a reincarnated war deity.

"Back when the dam was being built in Jizhou, I'd already heard of Commandant Fan's reputation! Even as a commoner, she cared for the realm, intercepting three scouts on a rainy night, ensuring the rebels were lured into the river valley so the flood strategy could succeed!"

"And that battle at First Line Gorge where she beheaded Shi Hu—truly spectacular! Armed with just two butcher knives, she took his head! Now she's accomplished another extraordinary feat, saving Lord He and slaying the Prince of Changxin!"

The crowd marveled and praised, "Heroes emerge from humble origins—how true the saying is!"

Fan Changyu modestly replied, "You overpraise me. My success against the Prince of Changxin was merely luck."

A military officer immediately interjected, "Commandant Fan, don't be so modest! Even luck isn't something just anyone can claim!"

As others chimed in, an officer with thin mustaches on either side of his mouth expressed regret: "Logically, slaying the Prince of Changxin should be the foremost merit. After the vanguard was scattered, it was the commandant who led the right flank into the heart of the rebel formation. How could the court only grant a fifth-rank position and a mere three hundred taels of silver?"

Fan Changyu was momentarily stunned, realizing for the first time that Swift Cavalry Commandant was a fifth-rank position.

She recalled Xie Zheng—disguised as Xie Wu—telling her that killing the Prince of Changxin would bring a thousand taels in reward.

Yet she'd only received three hundred.

Since the reward was specified in the imperial decree, no official would dare embezzle it. The reduction must have been the emperor's own decision.

For now, Fan Changyu couldn't fathom the reason.

But this officer's words implied that Tang Peiyi had taken credit for her achievements.

With so many present—many of them strangers—such remarks could easily lead to gossip.

Lord He's warning echoed in her mind, and Fan Changyu grew wary. She promptly said, "The tactics and battle formations for attacking Chongzhou were the brainchild of Lord He and General Tang. They deserve the greatest credit. As a mere squad leader promoted five ranks at once, I'm already overwhelmed by His Majesty's boundless grace. Moreover, my experience in the army is still shallow. I'm uneasy about assuming this commandant role and will rely on everyone's guidance in the future."In the military camp, the officer in charge of fifty men held no official rank. To be precise, they should be called squad leaders, but since there were both primary and deputy squad leaders, those under their command habitually referred to the primary one as "squad leader" and the deputy as "deputy squad leader."

Fan Changyu's words left no room for criticism. The other officers had already broken into a cold sweat when that person made that ambiguous remark.

They had only come to offer congratulations because they would be serving under Fan Changyu from now on.

If those words reached Tang Peiyi's ears and displeased him, and their immediate superior lost the general's favor, what hope would they, the subordinates, have?

So when they heard Fan Changyu's humble yet flattering words about He and Tang, everyone in the room breathed a sigh of relief and quickly chimed in, "The Commandant speaks wisely! Both generals have made great contributions, but the Commandant's position is well-deserved!"

With that, the matter was settled.

Just as Fan Changyu was about to see her guests out, an unexpected visitor arrived outside the tent.

"The Commandant's tent is quite lively."

That voice, as gentle as a spring breeze in March, was unmistakable.

Fan Changyu turned to see the attendant lift the tent flap, and in walked a man in a pale blue scholar's robe, smiling—none other than Li Huaian.

The officers in the tent immediately stiffened. Fan Changyu wondered if he had come to congratulate her on her promotion, but she maintained proper decorum, clasping her fists and saying, "Lord Li."

Li Huaian raised his delicate brows slightly. His eyebrows were naturally light, with a slight curve at the ends, giving him an air of gentleness and harmlessness. Even this gesture, which might seem frivolous on others, looked pleasing on him.

He smiled faintly and said, "Commandant Fan is still so formal with me."

Then he took a brocade box from his attendant behind him and said, "Upon hearing of the Commandant's official rewards from His Majesty, I prepared a modest gift for you."

Xie Wu, standing guard at the entrance like a door god, widened his eyes at the sight. If his gaze could turn tangible, he would have burned two holes through the back of Li Huaian's head.

Though the Marquis and the Commandant were currently separated, Gongsun had even sent Xie Shisan to Chongzhou to gather information. After returning, the Marquis had immediately taken action against the rebels in Kangcheng—clearly, he still cared for the Commandant.

As for the Commandant, there was no need to say more. He had caught her staring blankly at the Black Steel Modao more than once.

And now, Li Huaian was here to offer some kind of goodwill?

Taking advantage of the situation?

Xie Wu's heart pounded as he stared at Fan Changyu, silently praying she wouldn't accept the gift.

Fan Changyu frowned and said to Li Huaian, "I appreciate Lord Li's kindness, but private exchanges are forbidden in the military. I cannot accept this gift."

The centurions who had visited her earlier had come under the pretense of checking on her health, bringing only inexpensive pastries and wine—hardly a private exchange.

The officers who came to congratulate her today weren't foolish enough to bring gifts directly to the camp, so they had all arrived empty-handed. Thus, refusing was not difficult.

Li Huaian chuckled and said, "The Commandant misunderstands. This box merely contains a few military strategy books I annotated in my spare time."

With that, he opened the box, revealing only a few slightly worn volumes—nothing else.He tapped the bottom of the brocade box subtly with his fingertips, his smile unwavering: "Huaian's humble gift is indeed meager, and I fear the Commandant may find it laughable. I only hope you won't disdain it."

Having said this much, and with the contents being merely a few books, Fan Changyu truly couldn't find any further excuse to refuse.

Moreover, Li Huaian's discreet gesture seemed to be hinting at her to accept the box first.

After some thought, Changyu considered that if it were merely a simple gift, he wouldn't have chosen to present it amidst a crowd of military officers congratulating her.

Her gaze swept indifferently over the mustached officer who had earlier tried to provoke discord between her and Tang Peiyi. Recalling He Jingyuan's words that Grand Tutor Li's faction currently meant her no harm, she hesitated briefly before accepting the brocade box from Li Huaian, saying, "Then Changyu will graciously accept."

Li Huaian's expression seemed to relax slightly as he smiled. "Huaian's understanding of military strategy is shallow. I only hope these annotated military texts may be of some assistance to the Commandant."

Changyu could only respond with another polite remark: "You are too modest, my lord."

Finally seeing off all the well-wishers, Changyu slumped into a chair, feeling a throbbing ache in her temples.

Whoever said the military was full of rough, unrefined men clearly hadn't met these officers who had clawed their way up from foot soldiers. Not a single one was foolish.

That officer who deliberately set traps to drive a wedge between her and Tang Peiyi would certainly need watching in the future. Such overt threats were easy to deal with; it was the hidden ones that worried her.

Li Huaian's behavior was also inexplicably peculiar.

After everyone had left, Changyu examined the box carefully. There were no hidden compartments, and the military texts contained no concealed notes—the annotations were just that, annotations.

With no leads whatsoever, she sighed and asked Xie Wu, "Xiao Wu, what do you think Li Huaian meant by hinting that I should accept these military texts?"

Since this was a serious matter, Xie Wu suppressed his personal biases and analyzed: "With the military authority in Jizhou changing hands, the officers below, though loyal to Old General He, must now seek favor with their new superiors. Just as those centurions came to show goodwill to the Commandant earlier, accepting their overtures would be a form of alignment and alliance."

He paused here, glancing at Changyu before continuing, "Li Huaian... is likely also trying to win you over."

Changyu understood. "By accepting these military texts, I'm now aligned with the Li family?"

Xie Wu nodded, then added, "But he deliberately presented the gift publicly, clearly wanting someone specific to know."

Changyu pondered this carefully. The only one who wanted her dead was Wei Yan, but whether or not she accepted Grand Tutor Li's protection, Wei Yan wouldn't relent.

So the only person in the camp who could have prompted Li Huaian to go to such lengths was likely the imperial eunuch who had arrived that day to deliver the edict.

But the eunuch served the emperor.

Did the emperor mean her harm?

But why would the emperor wish her ill? At present, He Jingyuan hadn't yet been interrogated, meaning her true origins hadn't been revealed to the court. Even if the emperor resented her because of her grandfather, why would he confer an official title upon her?

Though it seemed the rank had been somewhat suppressed.Fan Changyu grew increasingly frustrated as she tried to make sense of things, grabbing a handful of her hair in agitation.

In the past, Grand Tutor Tao had taught her how to analyze situations, but now he was missing without a trace, and He Jingyuan was about to be transferred back to Jizhou. From now on, no matter what happened, she would have to figure things out and make decisions on her own.

At this thought, her gaze fell on the three hundred taels of gold laid out on a red silk tray on the table.

Each gold ingot weighed ten taels, and there were thirty ingots in total, gleaming brilliantly and catching the eye.

After some consideration, she instructed Xie Wu, "Take thirteen ingots and send them, along with the official compensation, to the families of the thirteen fallen soldiers. Take two more ingots to buy tonics for the severely wounded soldiers. Then, find me a few capable advisors—pay them whatever silver you deem appropriate."

Xie Wu nodded. "As a fifth-rank commandant, it’s only fitting for you to have advisors. But... isn’t the amount for the fallen soldiers a bit excessive?"

Ten taels of gold converted to a hundred taels of silver. Combined with the five taels of official compensation, that made a hundred and five taels.

Fan Changyu said, "This is what I promised them."

The group of captains led by Guo Baihu might serve him in the future, but they could never become her personal guards.

She still had too few people around her who were both capable and loyal.

She wanted to select two from the soldiers she had trained to serve as her personal guards.

Xie Wu was momentarily stunned by her answer but ultimately said nothing more.

As he was about to leave, Fan Changyu called him back. "Take these military books and distribute them among the soldiers as well."

Xie Wu froze.

Fan Changyu said, "Reading more about military strategy will only benefit them."

Once he confirmed that she meant for him to handle the books, Xie Wu was nearly ecstatic. His grin threatened to split his face, but he quickly reined it in, afraid Fan Changyu might notice. He picked up the brocade box and said, "Understood! I’ll take care of it right away!"

After Xie Wu left, Fan Changyu stared blankly at the Horse-Cutting Sword resting on the weapon rack for a while before pulling out the books Xie Zheng had annotated for her and slowly flipping through them.

Reading could make a person wiser. She needed to read more.

Whether it was coincidence or intention, Li Huaian’s act of gifting her annotated books—from their first encounter on the mountain path to later helping her investigate the case of her parents’ murder, which conveniently revealed issues with her origins, and then tracing the clues to uncover how He Jingyuan had forged documents for her parents—was all just too "coincidental."

The Imperial Palace.

Amidst the jade towers and jeweled pavilions, a striking woman in begonia-red palace robes strode swiftly forward, followed by sixteen maids with twin buns, their heads bowed as they hurried to keep up.

The elderly eunuch guarding the doors of the Imperial Study spotted her from afar, his wrinkled face already forcing an ingratiating smile as he stepped forward. "What wind brings Her Highness the Princess here today—"

The woman, radiant as a lotus yet icy in demeanor, flicked her sleeve and shoved the blocking eunuch aside, glaring as she snapped, "Out of my way!"

The eunuch yelped as he fell to the ground. Seeing that he couldn’t stop her and fearing the emperor’s wrath later, he clung to one of her legs, his shrill voice pleading, "Your Highness, you mustn’t go in! His Majesty is weary and has just retired—"

Before he could finish, the princess had already pushed open the doors of the Imperial Study.The heavy scent of ambergris filled the room, causing the princess's meticulously painted face to twist slightly in disgust.

The old eunuch trembled as he prostrated himself at the doorway. "Your Majesty, please calm your anger! This worthless servant deserves death for failing to stop Her Highness the Princess—"

"Enough. Leave us." A young man's voice came from within.

The eunuch retreated as if granted amnesty, bowing deeply and closing the study doors behind him.

The princess stood fearless before the Dragon Desk, her cold gaze fixed on the figure in bright yellow imperial robes who massaged his temples with visible exhaustion. "You've arranged my marriage to Wu'an Marquis?"

The emperor looked down at the radiant beauty standing below the jade steps. His lips curved into a boyish smile devoid of guile, yet his eyes gleamed like a venomous snake flicking its tongue in shadows. "I've found my royal sister an Unrivaled Hero for a husband. Are you displeased?"

"Wu'an Marquis met a commoner girl during his exile and pledged himself to her!" the princess snapped. "Does Your Majesty intend to make me the villain who tears lovers apart?"

The emperor waved a hand. "You worry too much, royal sister. How could some vulgar peasant compare to the pearl of our Great Yin dynasty? The marquis has already severed ties with her."

The princess's delicate brows knitted together. "Impossible. To marry that girl as his principal wife, he even begged the retired Grand Tutor Tao to adopt her as foster daughter. How could he simply abandon her?"

The emperor chuckled. "Then royal sister truly doesn't understand men. Between overwhelming power and the most beautiful woman in the realm, could some peasant girl possibly hold greater sway in his heart?"

"I refuse to tolerate such impurities," the princess said, her expression growing colder.

The emperor replied casually, "Rest assured, royal sister. After your marriage, you'll never lay eyes on that peasant girl again."

The princess paled. "You killed her? Aren't you afraid Wu'an Marquis will resent you?"

The emperor's smile deepened. "What's strange about a general dying in battle? Any resentment Wu'an Marquis bears should be directed at the rebels, no?"

In his youth, he'd been reduced to a puppet by Wei Yan and feigned stupidity to avoid suspicion. Later, to win over Grand Tutor Li, he'd pretended to be docile and easily controlled. Only in recent years had he begun baring his fangs.

Hearing his words, the princess stared in horrified silence, as if stunned by his depravity.

The emperor gazed at the woman before him, his expression as guileless and obedient as the timid young ruler he'd once pretended to be. Yet his eyes brimmed with unchecked ambition and desire.

Running his fingers over the gilded dragon head adorning his throne armrest, he mused with boundless anticipation, "Once Wei Yan falls, imperial power will return to me. With Wu'an Marquis at my side, what have I to fear from that old fool Li?"

Tilting his head, he added cheerfully, "Given the Li family's embezzlement over the years, exterminating their entire lineage would be justified."

The princess had never felt more estranged from the meek, kind-hearted younger brother she'd known. Goosebumps rose along her arms beneath the thin gauze sleeves. "And Wu'an Marquis? With his military power, how can you trust him?"

The emperor seemed about to respond, but his smile deepened as he looked at the princess standing below him. Abruptly changing course, he said, "Naturally I trust him—after all, royal sister will be keeping watch over him for me."

"In this world, you're the one person I trust completely, royal sister."

The chill creeping through her limbs slowly climbed up her spine.The grand princess forced a composed smile. "It is my honor that Your Majesty places such trust in me."

Delighted by her change in attitude, the emperor said, "I knew my elder sister would stand by my side. You may return and await your grand wedding."

The grand princess responded with a "Yes," curtsied, then turned and swept out of the study in her resplendent palace robes, her back straight and her expression as haughty as when she had entered, followed closely by sixteen palace maids.

No one knew the sheer fabric on her back was soaked with cold sweat, hidden only by her dark hair.

Upon returning to her palace, the grand princess shut the doors and angrily smashed porcelain until the floor was littered with shards.

Exhausted, she finally sat on a nearby couch, resting her forehead on one hand, her snow-white brow furrowed in obvious distress.

A senior maid carefully offered a cup of floral tea, advising, "Your Highness, please don’t harm your health with anger..."

The grand princess took the cup but, recalling the emperor’s words, couldn’t suppress her rage and hurled it away. The shattering porcelain startled the nearby maids.

"What does he think he is? Born of a lowly palace maid, without any maternal relatives, and now he wants to drag me into this mess!"

Her beautiful face was twisted with fury.

She was the Late Emperor’s most beloved daughter, though not his first—those before her had died young, leaving her the grand princess. Her mother was of noble birth, making her and the emperor half-siblings.

The emperor had likely grown close to her over the years to curry favor with her maternal family.

The senior maid, unaware of the conversation inside the study, assumed her mistress was still angry about the marriage arrangement. After some hesitation, she ventured, "Your Highness, that Gongsun Yin has refused to take office or even step foot in the capital just to avoid you. Why cling to him? The Wu'an Marquis is a peerless match—a decorated general, ennobled before he even turned twenty..."

"Silence!" The grand princess’s face turned icy, her nails digging into the wooden armrest so hard they nearly snapped.

The maid froze in shock.

Realizing her overreaction, the grand princess lowered her lashes like a fan to hide her momentary loss of control and scoffed, "Do you think the Wu'an Marquis will meet a good end?"

The maid paled, sensing political implications. "The imperial decree has been issued, and the envoy has left the capital. What can be done now?"

After a moment of silent contemplation, the grand princess suddenly said, "Prepare ink for me."

Kang City.

A troop of soldiers halted by the riverbank, where bound bandits crouched like dumplings under the watch of a dozen armored guards.

The lush summer grass had grown coarse, and the warhorses nosed through it for tender shoots.

When Gongsun Yin received the letter brought back by his personal guard from Chongzhou, his brows furrowed deeply.

He asked, "Miss Fan killed the Prince of Changxin, and the court only made her a Swift Cavalry Commandant?"

Xie Shisan nodded. "Absolutely. A eunuch from the Office of Ceremonial Affairs personally delivered the decree."

Gongsun Yin muttered, "Is the Prince of Changxin’s head worth so little?"He waved his hand to signal Xie Shisan to withdraw first, then glanced at the person standing bare-chested by the riverbank, allowing their personal guard to pour water down their entire back to clean the wound. Walking over, he deliberately raised his voice and said, "Miss Fan truly is a heroine among women. After slaying Changxin Wang, she was appointed as a fifth-rank Swift Cavalry Commandant."

The water trickling down Xie Zheng's back carried a faint tinge of rouge.

Upon hearing Gongsun Yin's words, he merely lifted his half-lowered eyelids slightly but remained silent, his expression indifferent and devoid of interest.

Over the past half-month, he had been relentlessly suppressing bandits, destroying every bandit stronghold around Kang City. The wounds on his back would nearly heal, only to split open again.

Yet he never once applied medicine.

When his personal guard once again poured water from a canteen over the bleeding wounds on his back, Xie Zheng seemed to deem it sufficient. Raising a hand, he signaled for the guard to withdraw, then donned his outer robe directly over the damp skin.

Gongsun Yin frowned deeply at the sight. "If you keep treating your injuries like this, they’ll be the death of you sooner or later."

Xie Zheng appeared too weary to even respond. Adjusting his collar, he turned to leave. "The bandit threat around Kang City has been eliminated. I have matters to attend to in Huizhou—I leave this place to you."

Gongsun Yin studied his sickly pale complexion under the sunlight, biting back the urge to curse at him. Instead, he said, "I heard Li Huaian annotated several military treatises as a congratulatory gift for Miss Fan. Given that my relationship with Miss Fan is, at the very least, better than his, and since I’ll be escorting Sui Yuanqing to Chongzhou anyway, I won’t stay in Kang City. I might as well bring her a gift too."

Xie Zheng paused mid-step, uttering a terse "As you wish" before continuing without looking back.

Watching his retreating figure as he mounted his horse, Gongsun Yin finally exploded in anger. "Xie Jiuhang! You’ve got nerve! If you’re really so determined to let go, why don’t you toss that hideous doll in your room into the brazier and burn it when you get back?"

The warhorse kicked up dust as it galloped away, its rider offering no further response.

The armored guards left behind stood stunned for a moment before rallying and following with their captured bandits in tow.

Only Gongsun Yin remained, still cursing under his breath.

Xie Zheng traveled with only two personal guards, riding day and night until he reached the Xie family estate in Huizhou.

His father had settled in Huizhou while garrisoning the northwest, making the Huizhou estate, in a sense, the ancestral home.

The Xie residence in the capital had been purchased only when his father married, and every plant and decoration within its walls had been arranged according to that woman’s preferences.

The family retainers stationed at the Huizhou estate were startled when Xie Zheng returned in the dead of night.

Though called retainers, they were effectively servants—men who had followed his father into battle, only to lose an arm or a leg, rendering them unfit for the battlefield for the rest of their lives.

The Xie family would support them until their dying day.

Without disturbing too many, Xie Zheng went straight to the ancestral hall, kneeling before the tablets all night.

Only at dawn the next day did the hall’s doors open again.

A middle-aged man with a limp and a missing arm hobbled inside, his face rugged yet composed. Gazing at the figure kneeling as straight as an ancient pine on the prayer mat, he said gently, "I heard the Marquis returned last night. Why didn’t you send word?"

Xie Zheng replied, "Uncle Zhong, I’ve come to request punishment."

A flicker of surprise passed through the crippled man’s eyes before he steadied himself. "How much punishment?"

The Xie family had ancestral rules: any male descendant who committed a grave offense must come to the ancestral hall to request punishment.

In seventeen years, Xie Zheng had sought punishment only once—when he recaptured Jinzhou and repaid blood with blood, eye for eye, ordering the slaughter of all Northern Turks in the city, just as they had once massacred the people of Great Yin.The Xie Clan had always been known for producing benevolent generals. Yet after the massacre of the city, the world only remembered his reputation as a slaughtering commander, forgetting entirely the Xie tradition of merciful leadership.

For a military leader to fail in restraining his own brutality was a grave transgression.

The only time Xie Zheng ever requested punishment, he asked for the severest penalty in the Xie Clan's ancestral code—one hundred and eight lashes.

Today, kneeling before the ancestral tablets of the Xie Clan, he again answered: "One hundred and eight lashes."

This number caused a strange light to reappear in the middle-aged man's eyes as he asked, "What offense has the Marquis committed?"

Xie Zheng gazed at the central tablet in the ancestral hall—Xie Linshan's memorial plaque—and replied, "Uncle Zhong will know in time."

Xie Zhong, having once been a battlefield veteran himself, was acutely sensitive to the scent of blood. The dark stain spreading across Xie Zheng's robe from reopened wounds was particularly conspicuous.

Hesitantly, he said, "The Marquis seems to bear serious injuries."

Xie Zheng merely responded, "It's nothing."

Xie Zhong then retrieved the python-skin whip hanging on the wall. After silently observing Xie Zheng for two breaths, he asked, "Shall we begin?"

Xie Zheng gave a quiet "Mm" of assent.

"Bright is our ancestor, whose legacy flows through history,

Teaching sons and grandsons, all founded on righteousness."

The solemn recitation of ancestral precepts was accompanied by the first heavy lash across Xie Zheng's back.

His body shuddered violently. His back tensed like forged steel, both hands clenched into fists at his sides to prevent himself from pitching forward. The whip had already torn through his robe, leaving behind a livid welt that threatened to split the swollen flesh beneath.

The Xie family's tradition dictated that punishment be administered while reciting ancestral teachings—so the punished might understand their transgression and engrave these principles into their bones.

"Ponder these words, extend their wisdom,

Hearken, all descendants, to our instruction."

Crack!

Another brutal lash fell, overlapping with the countless-times-reopened wound on his back. Flecks of blood and flesh sprayed out. Xie Zheng's lips blanched with pain, sweat beading like pearls at his temples, veins bulging in his clenched fists—yet not a single groan escaped him.

With each recitation of ancestral precepts came another lash until Xie Zheng's entire back became a crosshatch of bleeding welts. Sweat dripped from his eyelids, yet his eyes remained wide open, fixed unblinkingly on Xie Linshan's memorial plaque above the altar.

By the ninety-eighth stroke, blood had thoroughly saturated his robes, pooling on the stone floor beneath him. He could no longer maintain his kneeling position, collapsing forward as shadows crowded his vision, obscuring the ancestral tablets.

Xie Zhong's arms ached from exertion, the python-skin whip now slick with blood. As this generation's appointed disciplinarian of the Xie Clan, no matter how his heart rebelled, he could not show leniency during punishment.

Only this once, he said, "Marquis, let this suffice."

Xie Zheng lay prone on the ground, the wooden figurine hidden in his robes tumbling out. His palms were bloody from resisting pain, and when he retrieved the figurine, the palm-sized carving became smeared with crimson. Slowly blinking, he asked, "How many remain?"

Xie Zhong answered, "Ten strokes."

Supporting himself with one hand on the ground, the other clutching the figurine, Xie Zheng gradually rose back to his knees. Straightening his ravaged back once more, he said, "Continue."

Though pity flashed in Xie Zhong's eyes, he still loudly recited the ancestral teachings and brought the whip down with full force.

Blood sprayed across the stone tiles beneath them, blooming like grotesque flowers.Ten lashes—not too many, not too few. By the time they were done, Xie Zheng was drenched in blood, his fingertips nearly embedded in the wooden post from gripping it too tightly. His head hung low, his eyelids too heavy to lift.

Xie Zhong, fearing his injuries might be too severe and lead to complications, hurried out of the ancestral hall to summon a physician.

Kneeling on the ground, Xie Zheng gasped for breath, his back so numb with pain he could barely feel it.

After a long while, when he finally caught his breath, he forced his leaden eyelids open and bowed his head before Xie Linshan’s memorial tablet. His voice was hoarse as he whispered, "This unfilial son begs forgiveness."

There was someone rooted in his heart. He had carved out his entire heart, yet still couldn’t bear to let go.

At first, endless battles and slaughter could numb his mind, but later, even the agony of his wounds reopening couldn’t suppress his longing to see her.

Even when the pain wracked his body with spasms, he couldn’t wake from it.

Or perhaps he had always been awake.

He simply wanted to see her.

So badly it ached in his bones.

After enduring these one hundred and eight lashes, he could finally go to her.