The pitch-black dungeon was a hellish sight.
The flickering torchlight from the wall niches illuminated the filthy bloodstains on the ground, while the various torture instruments placed on wooden racks were coated in a layer of dark red gore. The stench of decay and blood permeated the chamber, mingling with the endless screams of agony.
"Will you confess or not?"
"Will you confess or not!"
Each lash of the snakeskin whip sent blood spraying into the air.
The man shackled to the torture rack was disheveled, his face covered in blood and filth, barely able to breathe. Yet, every time the venomous whip struck his body, he couldn't suppress his hoarse, agonized screams before finally passing out from the pain.
Beneath the blood-soaked prisoner's garb, fresh wounds had opened, some even revealing tiny shreds of torn flesh.
The jailer wielding the whip had swung it so many times his arms had gone numb. He glared hatefully at the prisoner who, despite enduring dozens of lashes, still refused to talk. A thin layer of cold sweat clung to his temples as he turned fearfully toward the figure observing from the shadows and clasped his fists in salute. "Marquis, this man is stubborn—he still won't confess. If we continue, he might not survive."
Receiving no response, his unease grew. He cautiously lifted his gaze toward the darkness, only to see the man reclining in the Grand Tutor chair, elbow resting on the armrest, fingers lightly supporting his temple. His eyes were half-lidded, long lashes casting faint shadows beneath them, as if lost in thought.
The jailer mustered his courage and called again, "Marquis?"
The next moment, the man who had seemed lost in contemplation abruptly raised his gaze.
Those eyes—cold, ruthless, like a wolf’s—sent a shiver down the jailer’s spine. Trembling, he repeated, "W-we’ve tried all the tortures… he still won’t talk."
Xie Zheng’s icy, gloomy stare swept over the half-dead prisoner. "How many lashes?"
The jailer answered respectfully, "Forty-seven."
The number elicited no reaction from Xie Zheng, save for a faint trace of impatience in his brow. "Shiyi."
Xie Shiyi, standing beside him, stepped forward and gestured to the jailers. Immediately, one of them hauled over a bucket of cold water and doused the blood-drenched prisoner.
The unconscious man slowly stirred, his matted, dripping hair clinging to his face. He could barely stand, held up only by the iron chains binding him. His breath was weak, yet he still instinctively muttered, "I really… know nothing… nothing…"
Xie Shiyi merely smiled. "You have a daughter, married into the Gao family in Jinan."
At these words, the bloodied man’s vacant eyes flickered with terror.
Xie Shiyi continued leisurely, "And your youngest son is studying at Songshan Academy. Let me guess—the Li family promised you your children’s safety and future in exchange for your silence? If you die, your son will be favored in his official career, and your son-in-law will be promoted to the capital?"
"H-how do you know?" the prisoner gasped in horror before realizing his slip. He hastily denied it, "I have no children… I’m alone… I don’t know what you’re talking about..."Behind him, Xie Zheng, seated in the Grand Tutor chair, had completely lost his patience. His voice was cold and detached: "Since my men can find your children, do you think those hypocritical scholars of the Li family can protect them? Freshly severed heads delivered posthaste to Jizhou Prefecture shouldn’t take more than three days."
As he spoke, he rose leisurely, slightly lowering his head to meet the gaze of the man bound to the torture rack. His sharp phoenix eyes were indifferent yet icy: "My patience has always been thin, Magistrate Liu. Have you thought it through?"
The bloodied man trembled like a sieve, his will utterly shattered. In a quivering voice, he confessed: "They’re hidden in Deyue Villa."
The two accompanying scribes were first startled, then overjoyed, swiftly recording the confession on the official document.
With this answer, Xie Zheng’s eyes frosted over. Without a backward glance, he strode out of the dungeon, Xie Shiyi hastily following.
Ever since that night when Xie Zheng had warned Li Huaian, he had kept close surveillance on the Li family’s movements. However, the Lis were cunning old foxes, acting with extreme caution. It had taken great effort to capture one of Li Huaian’s record keepers, only to find the man stubborn beyond belief.
Xie Zheng ordered a thorough investigation into the man’s background and discovered he had changed his name after entering the Li family’s service—likely to shield his family from repercussions should his deeds come to light. Yet those very family members, known only to the Lis, had become the leverage the Lis used to control him.
Xie Shiyi hurried to keep pace with Xie Zheng and asked, "Marquis, shall we dispatch troops to Deyue Villa immediately?"
Exiting the prison, the wind carried a hint of chill.
Xie Zheng narrowed his eyes at the yellow leaves spiraling down from the treetops.
Autumn had arrived.
He replied languidly, "Select three hundred elite cavalry from the Tiger Step Battalion to surround Deyue Villa under the pretext of capturing bandits. Maintain close surveillance on the Li family."
Xie Shiyi hesitated briefly. "Marquis, this matter is of grave importance. Shouldn’t we send the Blood-Clad Cavalry instead?"
The eight hundred Blood-Clad Cavalry under Xie Zheng’s command were his personal guards, trained by his own hand. The first nineteen, granted the Xie surname, were the finest among them.
If the descendants of the Chengde Crown Prince were truly hidden in Deyue Villa, only Xie Zheng’s most trusted forces should undertake this mission.
Yet Xie Zheng’s lips curled into a cold smirk. "Deyue Villa is merely bait set by the Lis. Why the haste?"
Xie Shiyi was both shocked and puzzled. Had all the effort to break the Liu family’s man been part of a counterploy, a performance for the Lis?
His eyes instantly shone with admiration, his heart surging with fervor as he prepared to follow Xie Zheng. But then the man ahead abruptly ordered, "Keep a close watch on that Zheng general under He Jingyuan’s command as well."
His tone was frigid enough to freeze ice—
Li Residence.
Li Huaian, clad in an indigo Confucian robe, sat wearily at his desk, leaning back slightly. His long fingers rested lightly on his brow as he addressed the messenger before him: "Have Wu'an Marquis’s men already left for Deyue Villa?"
The subordinate replied, "I witnessed several hundred riders departing Lucheng in secret."
Li Huaian lifted his eyelids, his pale eyes glinting like glass in the dappled sunlight filtering through the window lattice. "Send word to the villa. Have them proceed to the capital at once."
Deyue Villa was merely a decoy. With Wu'an Marquis’s forces lured away, the imperial grandson could secretly enter the capital.
This was a stratagem to divert the enemy’s attention.The impeachment memorial against Wei Yan had already been sent to the capital. Once Wei Yan fell from power, they would announce they had found the descendants of the Chengde Crown Prince and "persuade" the Emperor to abdicate. Even if the Wu'an Marquis commanded troops in the northwest, he would be powerless to reverse the situation.
Unless he raised the banner of rebellion himself.
But the Xie Clan had always been loyal to the core. He knew that for the sake of the Xie Clan's ancestors' unblemished reputation, Xie Zheng would never take that step.
Moreover... there were still people in this world who could restrain him.
The messenger had already withdrawn, and the unlatched window was blown open by the evening breeze, letting in a slant of sunset light.
Li Huaian frowned slightly as he gazed at the recently completed painting on his desk.
The painting depicted a snowstorm weighing down green pines across a mountain. Amid the vast expanse of white, a small dot of apricot color on a rugged mountain path was the only bright spot in the entire scene.
Upon closer inspection, it was clearly a woman in an apricot-colored jacket and skirt, walking forward on the rugged path with her back turned. Her face was obscured, and her black hair was frosted with snow from prolonged travel. One bare foot, red from the cold, was exposed.
A general's success is built upon ten thousand bones.
The Li family had come too far to turn back now.
Yet even at this point, he still didn’t want to drag her into this.
She was the most sincere and passionate woman he had ever met—like a sunbeam that exposed all the filth and ugliness in the world.
On the fourth day of Fan Changyu's bedridden recovery, Xie Qi and the personal guards she had sent finally escorted Changning and Aunt Zhao to Lucheng. The group had no trouble finding her residence.
When Changning and Aunt Zhao saw Fan Changyu so severely injured, they clung to her, weeping uncontrollably. It took Fan Changyu considerable effort to calm them down.
With more people around, squeezing into the small courtyard allocated by the military for recuperating officers was impractical. Fan Changyu had Xie Qi find a house in the city. Once everything was arranged, she moved in with Aunt Zhao and the others, bringing along the severely injured Xie Wu.
Xie Wu and Xie Qi were as close as brothers. Under Xie Qi’s care and Aunt Zhao’s daily nourishing soups, Xie Wu’s gaunt cheeks from his injuries quickly regained their fullness.
When Changning heard that the rebels had been executed, her big dark eyes widened nervously as she asked Fan Changyu, "Sister, what about Bao'er and his mother?"
Fan Changyu had also been preoccupied with finding Yu Qianqian, but she had been confined to bed rest and knew little of the military’s movements.
She could only pat Changning’s little topknot and reassure her, "They weren’t with the rebels. They must have escaped earlier."
Changning’s chubby face scrunched up in worry. "Then... if we can’t find Bao'er and his mother, they can’t find us either..." She twisted her fingers and asked softly, "Will we ever see them again?"
Fan Changyu replied firmly, "We will."
Only then did Changning cheer up again. "Before Ning Niang was taken away, she told Bao'er that she’d find you and brother-in-law to save him. Ning Niang can’t break her promise."
Fan Changyu smiled and ruffled her hair, though her eyes concealed many unspoken worries.
She had yet to hear any news about surviving rebel remnants and didn’t know whether Xie Zheng was truly unaware or suppressing the information.
Thinking back to their accidental encounter outside the prison that day, her chest still felt heavy.
Perhaps she just hadn’t gotten used to such a reunion.
Still, she wondered whom he had gone to interrogate in the prison that day. Surely it couldn’t have been that mother and child...She was deeply troubled. After He Jingyuan's funeral, she proposed returning to military duties, but Tang Peiyi advised her to take this opportunity to rest longer and wait for the official rewards from the capital before going back.
Fan Changyu found it hard to explain. She wanted to use her military connections to secretly search for Yu Qianqian and her child, and also to find out if Xie Zheng was still pursuing Sui Yuanhuai in secret.
The two of them now had no further contact. After the tragic battle at Lu City, she couldn’t bring herself to drive Xie Wu and Xie Qi away again, treating them instead as her own brothers. At present, she had no idea what Xie Zheng was up to.
If Xie Zheng intended to deal with Sui Yuanhuai privately, they might be able to cooperate—as long as Yu Qianqian and her child were spared.
If Xie Zheng knew nothing about this, Fan Changyu felt she would have to find Sui Yuanhuai herself and end the threat once and for all.
Yu Qianqian had already lost the Overflowing Fragrance Pavilion. As a widow with her child, Yu Bao'er, she likely had nowhere to go. Yu Qianqian had once shown her kindness, and now that Fan Changyu had made a name for herself, she was willing to take them in.
Fan Changyu didn’t know if she would regret this decision years later, but Yu Bao'er was just an innocent child who had done no wrong. He had been captured and taken to the Changxin Prince Manor alongside his mother. He shouldn’t have to pay with his life for a birth he couldn’t choose.
Fan Changyu also believed Yu Qianqian would raise Yu Bao'er well.
If, by some chance, Yu Bao'er grew up to be as wicked as the Sui father and son and tried to incite war, the boy would be right under her watch. She wouldn’t hesitate to stop him before he could cause disaster.
After several days of frustrated convalescence at home, an unexpected visitor suddenly arrived.
At the time, she was being forced by Aunt Zhao to drink a freshly boiled bowl of old hen soup. Xie Qi entered and announced that Zheng Wenchang had come to visit and was waiting outside.
Fan Changyu wondered what had brought him here unannounced.
Was he here to challenge her to a duel?
If so, her injuries hadn’t fully healed yet. Another fight would likely land her back in bed for days.
She said, "Show him in first."
Not long ago, the two of them had been caught up in some absurd rumors in the army. Fan Changyu didn’t want anyone seeing them together and stirring up more trouble.
But Xie Qi wore a strange expression. "Commandant, you’d better come see for yourself."
Fan Changyu changed into more presentable clothes and went to the gate, where she saw Zheng Wenchang kneeling shirtless with a bundle of thorny branches strapped to his back. Her eyelids twitched violently.
She quickly motioned for Xie Qi to help him up in her stead. "General Zheng, what is this? Please rise at once!"
Zheng Wenchang remained kneeling, unmoving. Only when he saw Fan Changyu did he clasp his fists and say, "I am ashamed. I have come bearing thorns to seek forgiveness from Commandant Fan. My first offense: on the day the rebels attacked the city, you struck me unconscious, fearing I would act recklessly. Yet I failed to recognize your good intentions and nearly fought you outside Lord He’s memorial hall. This was dishonorable."
"My second offense: our quarrel was misunderstood by others, damaging your reputation. This was discourteous. I beg you to whip me with these thorns. Otherwise, I cannot face you now—nor Lord He in the afterlife!"
Zheng Wenchang was always rigidly upright, to the point of being overly inflexible.Fan Changyu sighed, "General Zheng, there's no need to feel burdened. Lord He treated me with equal kindness, and I understand the state of mind you were in at the time. I never held that day’s events against you. If Lord He knew in the afterlife that you’ve regained your strength, he would be truly comforted. As for those absurd rumors, they’re nothing but nonsense—why pay them any heed?"
Zheng Wenchang, usually a cold and unyielding man, now wore a rare expression of shame and lowered his head. "I am ashamed. Despite my years of experience in the army, my vision and temperament still fall short of yours, Commandant."
Fan Changyu replied, "In matters concerning Lord He, General Zheng, your concern simply clouded your judgment. There’s nothing to reproach yourself for. I’ve never taken those rumors seriously, so you needn’t blame yourself either. As comrades who both received Lord He’s teachings, we should never have let discord come between us. In the days ahead, I hope to learn much from you, General Zheng."
Zheng Wenchang clasped his fists deeply toward her once more. "I dare not presume to teach. In the future, I shall be at your command, Commandant."
With that, she and Zheng Wenchang were fully reconciled.
Though Zheng Wenchang’s act of apology had been somewhat exaggerated, it thoroughly dispelled the lingering rumors.
Between her and Zheng Wenchang, beyond their previous camaraderie as fellow soldiers, there now existed an additional bond of shared discipleship under Lord He’s guidance.
Half a month later, the army held a victory banquet.
The rebels had all been executed, but the official rewards were delayed. They would have to go to the capital to receive their honors directly from the emperor in the Golden Hall. Moreover, the court was in an uproar over the memorials impeaching Wei Yan, leaving the emperor with no time to draft the reward decrees for the time being.
Not all soldiers could accompany them to the capital, so the victory banquet naturally had to be held in the Jizhou military camp.
As the hero who defended Lucheng, Fan Changyu, despite holding only a fifth-rank position, was seated near the front, directly behind Deputy General He. One seat behind her was Zheng Wenchang, who outranked her by one grade.
The soldiers who had followed Xie Wu out of the city, though of lower rank, were also given seats at the banquet. Apart from Xie Wu, the others seemed torn between joy and unease.
Fan Changyu surmised that the seating was arranged according to merit.
The foremost seat at the head of the hall was conspicuously empty—clearly reserved for Xie Zheng.
Strangely, the first seat on the right side, among the civil officials, was also vacant.
Fan Changyu guessed that spot must belong to Li Huaian.
As the military officers gradually took their seats, the hall grew livelier. Even before the banquet began, many officers came to toast her, as if aware she had performed another great feat and would soon be promoted upon reaching the capital.
Though Fan Changyu’s injuries had mostly healed, she insisted on drinking tea instead of wine, citing her wounds.
First, her injuries weren’t entirely healed, and second, her alcohol tolerance wasn’t exceptional. Once the toasts started, they wouldn’t stop—accepting one officer’s toast but refusing another’s would only invite offense. If she drank them all, she’d likely be passed out before the banquet even began.
Having declined the toasts, she found herself seated between Deputy General He on her left and Zheng Wenchang on her right, leaving her with no one to chat with to pass the time.
If the seating hadn’t been fixed, she would have squeezed in beside Xie Wu and the others.
Just as the banquet was about to begin, Xie Zheng arrived right on time. But the seat opposite, meant for Li Huaian, remained empty. Fan Changyu couldn’t tell if he was simply late or had decided not to come at all.To avoid the awkwardness of meeting Xie Zheng's gaze, she kept her head down the entire time, nibbling on the cold dishes already laid out on the low table before her.
By the time the maids filed in, placing the aromatic meat dishes one after another, Fan Changyu had already taken a few bites of the braised pork knuckle. Only then did she hear Xie Zheng's deep voice from the head of the hall: "Lord Li has caught a chill and cannot attend tonight's victory banquet. Nevertheless, let the festivities continue. The rebellion in Chongzhou lasted a year and a half before finally being quelled. You are all heroes of Great Yin. As the marquis, I propose the first toast to you all!"
From the corner of her eye, Changyu noticed those around her rising with cups in hand, so she too stood and raised her cup. As she lifted her gaze, she caught sight of Xie Zheng standing at the front of the hall. For some reason, the phrase "heaven's favored son" suddenly came to mind.
Clad in a black satin robe embroidered with golden pythons, his hair half-bound by a golden crown, his sharp, cold features exuded authority. The wide sleeves of his robe, adorned with five-colored cloud patterns, shimmered brilliantly under the candlelight, as though mountains, rivers, and seas all lay within their folds.
Once upon a time, what Changyu feared most was his radiant brilliance amidst the crowd, while she remained as ordinary as a grain of sand, destined to drift apart from him. That was why she had strived so hard to catch up, to stand beside him.
Now, she had come far enough on that path, but what drove her forward was no longer him.
The wine went down her throat, suddenly stirring a pang of melancholy within her.
Changyu thought to herself that her tolerance for alcohol couldn’t possibly be this poor—was she already tipsy after just one cup?
As the banquet commenced, the hall buzzed with the clinking of cups. Deputy General He, Tang Peiyi, and other seasoned officers went to toast Xie Zheng. Zheng Wenchang, perhaps noticing Changyu’s solitary focus on the dishes, approached her and said, "Zheng proposes a toast to Commandant Fan."
Changyu raised her teacup in response, drinking in lieu of wine.
No sooner had she set the cup down than she felt an icy gaze land on the top of her head, so palpable it seemed capable of drilling a hole through her scalp.
Instinctively, she looked up toward Xie Zheng, only to find him turned away, speaking quietly to Tang Peiyi.
Puzzled, Changyu wondered if it hadn’t been him after all.
Under Xie Zheng’s command, military banquets strictly forbade entertainers like dancers.
After three rounds of drinks, the crowd grew pleasantly tipsy. Some musically inclined officers began playing the huqin right at their seats, while the civil officials, inspired by the mood, recited poetry. Later, the drunken crowd broke into military songs.
"Who says we lack robes? We share with our comrades. When the king calls for war, we sharpen our spears..."
The deep, stirring voices rose to the rafters, evoking battles fought as if they were just yesterday. Changyu listened, deeply moved.
The fallen were gone, but the living carried on—there were still long roads ahead.
A drunken officer staggered over to toast Changyu, hiccuping as he declared, "Commandant Fan, you—hic—you gotta drink with old Chen here. I respect you—hic—from the bottom of my heart. Before meeting you, I never believed—hic—a woman could fight on the battlefield."
The man was too far gone to listen to her excuse of being injured and unable to drink. He kept insisting, so Changyu had no choice but to accept the toast.
Little did she know this would open the floodgates. Every officer still standing wobbled to their feet, cups raised, clamoring to toast her.Fan Changyu forced herself to drink five or six cups before she started feeling lightheaded. Her face flushed red as she waved her hand, saying she couldn't drink anymore.
Xie Zheng, seated at the head of the table, heard the commotion and glanced over, his eyes already tinged with a frosty glint.
Xie Wu noticed the situation and came over, offering to drink in Fan Changyu's stead. However, his status wasn't high enough, and the military officers wouldn't allow it.
Just as Fan Changyu was about to feign drunkenness by collapsing onto the table, Zheng Wenchang suddenly spoke up beside her: "Captain Fan is still recovering from her injuries. I'll drink for her."
With that, he picked up the wine bowl and downed it in one go.
The crowd was stunned for a moment before erupting into teasing laughter.
Though the rumors between him and Fan Changyu had been dispelled after his public apology, this sudden gesture made them sense something fishy again.
Fan Changyu hadn’t expected Zheng Wenchang to help her either and was momentarily stunned.
Tang Peiyi glanced over at the commotion and said to Xie Zheng with a wry smile, “That kid…”
But Xie Zheng couldn’t muster a smile. The cup in his hand shattered into pieces, the broken porcelain cutting into his fingers as blood welled up.
Noticing the anomaly, Tang Peiyi turned back and saw Xie Zheng, who merely said in a calm voice, “I’ve had too much to drink and lost my grip. Generals, please continue the feast. This Marquis will excuse himself for a moment.”
Watching Xie Zheng’s retreating figure through the side door, then glancing at Fan Changyu surrounded by a crowd of officers, Tang Peiyi nudged Deputy General He with his elbow. “Old He, don’t you think there’s something odd between the Marquis and Commander Fan?”
Deputy General He, recalling what he had witnessed that day, poked at the few remaining peanuts on his plate, pretending to be oblivious. “How would I know…?”
After enduring the round of toasts, Fan Changyu quickly feigned drunkenness and was escorted away by two maids.
Once in a secluded spot, she dismissed the maids and planned to sit somewhere to sober up in the breeze. But after walking a while, the alcohol’s delayed effects hit her. Earlier, she had only felt her face burning, but now her steps were unsteady.
Thinking she might wash her face, she looked around but couldn’t find a clean room. Instead, she spotted a row of water-filled vats against a wall far from the main hall—reserved for fire emergencies.
Light-headed, she approached a vat, scooped water to splash on her face, and finding it still too hot, plunged her entire head into the water.
Just as she began to feel slightly clearer, someone grabbed her collar and yanked her up, likely mistaking her for a drunk drowning.
After muttering twice that she wasn’t drunk, Fan Changyu, still dangling, stared blankly at the frosty face under the moonlight.
It took her a while to recognize who it was. Her alcohol-slowed mind processed the situation before she clumsily clasped her hands in a salute. “Greetings, Marquis.”
The grip on her collar suddenly loosened, and Fan Changyu tumbled to the ground, sitting slumped against the wall.
Her body felt as soft as cotton, so the fall didn’t hurt. She instinctively brushed off the dust on her clothes.
But for some reason, as she did, an overwhelming sense of grievance welled up. Her eyes stung, and a tear fell.
She stared at the droplet on her hand, not even realizing it was her own tear.
The person beside her crouched down. His moonlit face resembled cold jade, his expression icy. Wiping the tear from her eye, he asked, “Besides ‘Marquis,’ what else do you call me?”
His tone carried self-mockery and suppressed fury. His fingertips bore wounds, the scent of blood lingering—cuts from the shattered cup at the banquet.
Drunk, Fan Changyu became utterly sluggish. She couldn’t recall why she had suddenly wanted to cry. After staring at his handsome face for a long moment, she uttered two words: “Yan Zheng.”
She reached up and patted his head. “You’re Yan Zheng!”
Xie Zheng’s fingers near her face stiffened, the dark depths of his eyes swirling with terrifying intensity.Unfortunately, Fan Changyu had turned into a drunkard and couldn't see clearly. Her attention was drawn by the scent of blood to his hands covered in wounds. Her delicate brows furrowed as she muttered, "You're bleeding..."
She lowered her head, fumbling with her robe as if searching for the inner lining. Finally finding it, she was about to tear off a corner when suddenly her chin was forcefully seized. Wincing in pain, she was forced to tilt her head up, only to meet a pair of pitch-black eyes before her breath was stolen away.
By the time her teeth were pried open and her lips and tongue ravaged, she belatedly realized what this person before her was doing. Angrily, she pushed against him but couldn't budge him—instead, she found herself pressed against the wall.
Just as Fan Changyu was on the verge of suffocating from lack of air, the person finally released her.
Her lips throbbed, her mind was dazed, but she still remembered her anger and continued pushing, trying to shove him away—to no avail.
She was pulled into a crushing embrace, the force making her bones ache faintly.
The man buried his face in the crook of her neck. Despite his overwhelming dominance, his posture was fragile and desperate, like someone who had wandered the desert too long and finally glimpsed the way home.
"Fan Changyu, I regret it."
Warm tears soaked through her clothes, spreading across Changyu's shoulder.
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