Chasing Jade (Zhu Yu)

The attendant immediately observed Wei Yan's expression with great caution.

He said in a deep voice, "Bring it here."

Only then did the attendant go to the study door and carefully carry the brocade box to the desk.

Wei Yan's aged yet still sharp phoenix eyes scrutinized the brocade box before him. The box clearly had some years on it, with the embroidered fabric covering it already yellowed.

He unlocked it and opened the box. Upon seeing its contents, his eyes instantly darkened with gloom.

Noticing the change in his expression, the attendant hurriedly glanced at the items inside and exclaimed in shock, "Did... did He Jingyuan see this letter?"

Inside the brocade box lay a letter and a black iron token.

Wei Yan picked up the letter. The envelope appeared old, but its seal remained intact, and there was no sender's name on it. It seemed as though someone had placed its contents in a new envelope long ago.

In a low voice, he said, "He didn't dare open it."

He tore open the envelope, revealing another letter inside that had already been opened. Both the letter paper and its cover had yellowed with age, stained with dried blood that had oxidized into a pale yellow hue.

On the cover were bold, powerful characters reading: "To Meng Shuyuan, for his eyes only."

Wei Yan had held the emperor hostage to command the nobles for many years. Though criticized in court, his calligraphy was still ranked among the great masters of the era. Anyone who had seen his handwriting could recognize the characters on the envelope as his own.

Upon reading the letter inside, Wei Yan's icy expression softened slightly, though his eyes remained as sharp as an eagle's. "Why did the item I sent the Black-ranked assassin to retrieve end up in He Jingyuan's hands?"

The attendant bowed his head, sweat dripping. "This old servant will order an investigation at once."

But Wei Yan waved his hand, signaling it wasn't necessary. He noticed a memorial from Jizhou had been delivered along with the brocade box. After reading it, he tossed it onto the desk and said, "He's pleading for me to spare the two daughters of that traitor."

Having served Wei Yan for years, the attendant was adept at reading minds. A glance at He Jingyuan's memorial—which mentioned bandits attacking Qingping County, killing many innocent families, and the outlaws being executed—made the meaning behind Wei Yan's words clear.

He Jingyuan had retrieved what Wei Yan wanted and now hoped Wei Yan would cease his pursuit and spare the two girls.

The attendant's eyes flickered slightly. "General He likely acted out of old camaraderie. When you tested his loyalty by ordering him to kill those two, he complied without hesitation. It seems his loyalty to you remains steadfast—this is merely a moment of misplaced mercy."

Wei Yan sneered. "Do you think he obtained this item long ago, or is it truly as he claims in his memorial—that he mistook the Black-ranked assassin for bandits during the Qingping County operation and only then learned I was searching for this?"

The attendant weighed his words carefully. "After you ordered him to kill those two, didn't you send people to keep watch? He Jingyuan appears unaware of this item, so it must be the latter."

Wei Yan's voice turned icy. "Better to kill a thousand by mistake than let one escape. Though he didn't open the letter, the fact that he used it to plead for the traitor's daughters means he must have guessed its significance."

The attendant ventured cautiously, "Do you mean to... deal with him as you did with the Marquis?"

He made a throat-slitting gesture.Wei Yan stared at the memorial on the desk, pondering for a long time before finally shaking his head: "It's been over sixteen years since the Battle of Jinzhou, yet just months ago, the deaths of Crown Prince Chengde and Xie Linshan suddenly resurfaced among the populace. Zheng'er's investigation into the records of that battle must have been guided by someone with ulterior motives. The mastermind hasn't even shown themselves, yet they've already forced me to break the finest blade in my hand."

At this point, Wei Yan's tone turned sharp: "Now the Chongzhou battlefield is at a stalemate—perhaps that same mastermind is pulling strings behind the scenes. If we lose He Jingyuan as another blade, we might as well hand over the entire southwest region. That traitor at least had the sense not to tell his two daughters anything about the past. Two young girls pose no threat; let them live for now."

An attendant praised: "The Prime Minister is wise."

Though inwardly, he understood that Wei Yan had spared He Jingyuan's life only because He Jingyuan, despite knowing the truth about the Battle of Jinzhou, could still be of use. As for the traitor who had betrayed him, he only left behind two daughters—what could women do about revenge? There was no need to worry about future repercussions.

But Xie Zheng was different. The murder of one's father was an unforgivable enmity.

That was why the man before him had struck first, setting a trap in the Chongzhou campaign to ensure that Great Yin's young war god, who had earned his marquis title through military exploits, would fall there.

Wei Yan ignored the attendant's flattery. With a final glance at the yellowed letter that had endured sixteen years, he tossed it into the brazier beside the desk.

The glowing silver charcoal instantly burned a large hole in the letter. As the dark brown hole expanded, the entire page was gradually consumed by flames. The weapons and bloodshed of sixteen years ago seemed to turn to ash in that fire, ensuring no one would ever know the truth of what had happened.

The firelight reflected in Wei Yan's eyes as he said gravely: "Let He Jingyuan handle the Chongzhou campaign for now. Whoever is trying to drag the Battle of Jinzhou back into the light after sixteen years won't stop. Send the Earth-ranked Martial Assassins to keep a close watch. If there's any further movement, I want that rat stirring up trouble in the shadows brought before me!"

The attendant ventured: "Could it be Grand Tutor Li's faction..."

Wei Yan shook his head, his aged face exuding the calm of a mountain overlooking an abyss: "If that old fool had caught even a whiff of the truth about the Battle of Jinzhou, he wouldn't have waited sixteen years to bring it up again."

He continued slowly: "After Crown Prince Chengde died in battle, the Eastern Palace caught fire. Both the Crown Princess and the imperial grandson perished in the flames. The Crown Princess's face was at least half recognizable, but the imperial grandson was burned to a shriveled corpse. Let us hope that the one who died back then was truly the imperial grandson."

The attendant, understanding the implication, broke into a cold sweat and said: "Whoever died alongside the Crown Princess must have been the imperial grandson. Aside from the imperial grandson, what young boy could have been in the Eastern Palace?"

Wei Yan merely replied: "Let us hope so."

Jizhou.

It should have been New Year's Eve, but with the imperial army's defeat in Chongzhou—and Jizhou bordering Chongzhou—every official in Jizhou Prefecture ranked seventh grade or higher was summoned to the prefectural office to discuss countermeasures instead of enjoying the holiday.

A dispatch was delivered to He Jingyuan's desk. After reading it, he sighed: "The Prime Minister's eldest son seems to think the flames in Chongzhou aren't burning fiercely enough!"

Zheng Wenchang, standing below, asked: "What does the General mean by that?"

He Jingyuan handed the document bearing the seal of the Northwest Military Governor to his subordinate. As the officials in the study passed it around, murmurs of discussion arose.Zheng Wenchang fumed, "Across the entire Great Yin dynasty, with its capital and seventeen prefectures, the northwest holds four. Chongzhou has already rebelled, leaving only Huizhou, Jizhou, and Taizhou. Huizhou is a military garrison, and the court has long strictly prohibited garrisoned areas from stockpiling grain or farming to weaken the Military Governors' power. Now, the entire northwest has only Jizhou and Taizhou left to supply grain. Yet Wei Xuan demands that each of our two prefectures requisition a hundred thousand dan of grain within three days. Isn’t this asking the impossible?"

Another official added, "I heard Taizhou couldn’t meet the requisition. Yesterday, the Military Governor sent troops to forcibly seize grain—even the seeds farmers had saved were taken by the soldiers! Forget spring planting next year; if the people don’t starve this harsh winter, it’ll be a miracle!"

"Those soldiers under Wei Xuan’s command don’t treat the people as human. I heard they even beat to death several farmers who refused to hand over their grain. This hasn’t spread yet, but once it does, the Wei family’s infamy will grow even worse!"

He Jingyuan listened silently as the prefectural officials bickered below. Only when their arguments grew heated did he finally ask, "Why has the northwest failed to meet the grain requisition this year?"

The provisions for the hundred thousand troops at the Huizhou garrison had always been supplied by the court. However, the war in Chongzhou had disrupted the Grain Supply Line, delaying the delivery.

Had the Chongzhou conflict ended sooner, things wouldn’t have come to this. But the Great Yin’s God of War, the Wu'an Marquis, had already fallen there, dealing a devastating blow to the army’s morale.

The newly appointed Military Governor, Wei Xuan, was an ambitious glory-seeker. To quickly consolidate control over Huizhou’s hundred thousand troops, he demoted or transferred the Wu'an Marquis’ most capable generals.

The men he brought with him were utterly unfamiliar with the northwest’s military situation. Suffering repeated defeats, morale plummeted further, stretching the front lines and exhausting Huizhou’s remaining provisions.

With Huizhou in crisis, the other three prefectures in the western region should have been able to provide emergency supplies. Even now, with only two prefectures left, it shouldn’t be impossible to requisition some grain.

Zheng Wenchang, who had been as explosive as a firecracker, clasped his fists and said, "I’ve had it investigated. Not long ago, a merchant surnamed Zhao purchased large quantities of grain at high prices in Jizhou and Taizhou. The people only kept seeds for spring planting and coarse grains for their own consumption—everything else was sold for silver to celebrate the New Year."

He Jingyuan said, "Look into this merchant surnamed Zhao."

Zheng Wenchang acknowledged the order.

He Jingyuan continued, "Today is New Year’s Eve. Let’s adjourn the meeting early. Everyone should return home."

The officials, who had been grim-faced, brightened at his words but suppressed their relief, bowing properly before filing out.

Only Zheng Wenchang remained, his brow furrowed.

The hall emptied, leaving him standing alone.

He Jingyuan rose from behind his desk and, seeing him still there, asked, "Why haven’t you gone home?"

Wen Chang worriedly said, "My lord, Wei Xuan has explicitly demanded that our Jizhou Prefecture produce a hundred thousand dan of grain within three days. What if we can’t deliver by then?"

He Jingyuan replied, "Didn’t I just instruct you to investigate that merchant surnamed Zhao?"

Zheng Wenchang fell silent. The merchant had been buying grain for some time. Even if they found him, if the grain had already been sold elsewhere, it would be too late to help.

He Jingyuan suddenly paused and looked at the young man before him, his gaze gentle yet firm. "Do you want me to follow Wei Xuan’s example and send men to seize grain from the people?"Zheng Wenchang hurriedly expressed his humility, though his face still showed hesitation: "But... how will you explain this to the Wei family?"

He Jingyuan replied, "There are always ways, but those ways don't involve holding a knife to the people's throats. Wen Chang, it doesn't matter what the court officials and scholars call our faction. What matters is that we know in our hearts that we serve as officials for the people of Great Yin."

Zheng Wenchang bowed his head in shame. "This humble official has learned much."

He Jingyuan said no more.

Outside, snowflakes as large as goose feathers were falling. As he stepped out of the study, his thoughts turned to what he had sent to the capital after learning of the defeat in Chongzhou. Wei Yan must have seen it by now.

If the transfer orders from the capital arrived before Wei Xuan made his move, then Wei Xuan would no longer be a threat.

Wei Xuan's current rush to collect grain was likely driven by fear of Wei Yan's reprimand, hence his eagerness to achieve quick results.

With no one left in the northwest, Wei Yan could only rely on him. By taking a risk to secure the lives of those two sisters, it might just work.

This was all he could do.

Hearing the distant sound of firecrackers from the streets, a complex and melancholic emotion flickered in He Jingyuan's eyes. "During the New Year, we must offer sacrifices to those who have passed. There's an old friend of mine—no one remembers to burn ghost money for him anymore. I cannot face him, Wen Chang. Come with me outside the city to burn some ghost money for my old friend."

Zheng Wenchang assented.

A carriage left the main city of Jizhou and stopped at a hillside.

The mountain wind howled as He Jingyuan personally lit incense, bowed three times toward the north, and then planted it in the earth. He then stepped aside, allowing Zheng Wenchang to burn all the ghost money there.

The wind whipped the flames, scattering the unburned ghost money everywhere. The white snow mingled with the pale ghost money, creating an inexplicably desolate scene.

As Zheng Wenchang finished the offerings and descended the slope, he saw He Jingyuan standing with his back to the hill, his expression sorrowful.

On the way back, Zheng Wenchang couldn't resist asking, "My lord, you are always so magnanimous. Why do you say you cannot face your old friend?"

He Jingyuan sat with his eyes closed in the carriage, as if resting, and answered simply, "In these times, there are things one must do, however reluctantly."

Ling'an Town.

The melted snow on the ground was littered with waterlogged ghost money.

When the wind blew hard, many pieces of ghost money were swept into the air.

The thawed paths were difficult to traverse, muddy and slippery. Fan Changyu carried Changning as they walked along the field ridges, while Xie Zheng followed behind, expressionlessly carrying a bamboo basket filled to the brim with incense, candles, and ghost money.

It was the town's tradition to visit the graves of departed loved ones on New Year's Eve, offering incense, lighting candles, and burning ghost money.

Fan Changyu's parents were buried on a mountain outside the town, in a spot with excellent feng shui.

Being new graves, there was hardly any grass in front. Upon arriving, Fan Changyu set Changning down.

Nearly two months had passed since their parents' deaths, but Changning's eyes still welled up with tears at the sight of the two mounds. "Daddy... Mommy..."

Fan Changyu patted her little sister's head and comforted her, "Don't cry. It's the New Year—we should be happy. Only then will Daddy and Mommy in heaven feel at ease."

Xiao Changning sniffled hard, holding back her tears.

After lighting the incense and candles, Fan Changyu had Changning kowtow before the graves while she took out the ghost money from the bamboo basket and burned it in a special iron basin for ashes.

Once Changning finished kowtowing, she crouched beside Fan Changyu to help burn the ghost money. Noticing Xie Zheng standing nearby, she handed him a large stack of ghost money. "Brother-in-law, you burn some too!"Xie Zheng hesitated for a moment before also picking up some ghost money to burn. The smell of paper ash was rather pungent, and the rising smoke made Changning's eyes water, forcing her to step aside.

Only Fan Changyu and Xie Zheng remained by the brazier.

Noticing she had divided the ghost money in her basket into four portions, Xie Zheng asked, "Who are the other two portions for?"

Fan Changyu replied, "For my maternal grandparents. My parents used to make offerings to them before. Now that they're gone too, I might as well burn some for all of them together."

Xie Zheng subtly furrowed his brows. Her mother didn't even know her original surname—how could she know her parents' birth dates for the offerings?

He grew increasingly convinced that the omission of the surname on her mother's memorial tablet was deliberate.

As for why her father's surname wasn't concealed, either the Fan surname wasn't his original one, or... he had previously used a different surname.

Though suspicions arose in his mind, he had no intention of asking about her grandfather's surname.

He could already guess the outcome—if asked, she would plead ignorance on all counts.

Seeing his silence, Fan Changyu thought he was remembering his deceased parents and generously offered, "We have extra ghost money at home. You can burn some for your parents later."

Xie Zheng's slender fingers pinched a bill of ghost money as flames licked at its edge. His features appeared somewhat detached amidst the firelight and smoke. "Does burning these things actually accomplish anything?"

This was a question Fan Changyu couldn't properly answer. After some thought, she said, "Maybe it does. The elders say that people over there need money to bribe the underworld officials, otherwise they'll suffer. Even if it's useless, it's still a form of remembrance."

Having someone burn paper money during festivals means someone in this world still remembers the departed.

Xie Zheng said nothing more, only occasionally tossing another handful of ghost money into the brazier, his lashes half-lowered, making his expression unreadable.

He added too much at once, causing unburnt stacks to produce thick smoke. Fan Changyu's eyes teared up from the fumes, and she turned her face away, eyes shut. "Don't put in so much at one time."

She reached into the bamboo basket for more ghost money but instead touched a cool, large hand.

Fan Changyu recoiled as if shocked, opening her smoke-irritated, teary almond eyes in a mix of embarrassment and awkwardness. "Sorry."

The warmth of her touch still lingered on his hand. Xie Zheng pressed his lips together slightly. He had meant to say "It's fine," but when he looked up and saw her tear-filled eyes and reddened lids, he paused momentarily.