Chapter 79: The Youth
Back when Xiao Jue led the Southern Garrison Troops to Jingzhou, the world knew of the second young master Xiao's unparalleled prowess in both civil and martial arts. Yet, due to his youth, many doubted his ability to shoulder such heavy responsibilities. Zhao Nuo, the military governor of Jingzhou, was a lecherous and greedy man, devoid of any real talent. From the moment Xiao Jue arrived in Jingzhou, Zhao Nuo looked down on him, often treating him with disrespect and mockery. This alone might have been tolerable, but during the battle of Jingzhou, while Xiao Jue led his troops to the front lines, Zhao Nuo, cowardly and incompetent, issued disastrous commands from the rear, delaying critical opportunities and causing countless soldiers to perish needlessly. Witnessing such arrogance, Xiao Jue ordered Zhao Nuo seized and bound.
Zhao Nuo’s father was the Minister of War, and Zhao himself had entrenched power in Jingzhou over the years. Naturally, countless high-ranking officials and nobles came to plead on his behalf, resorting to threats and bribes, all banking on Xiao Jue’s youth and isolation in a land where he had no allies.
“He is the military governor of Jingzhou! His father is the Minister of Revenue! The Zhao family has countless connections in court—if you offend him, you’ll face endless obstacles in the future!”
Unmoved, Xiao Jue merely smiled disdainfully. “If a mere minister dares to act so recklessly, even if he were the Grand Chancellor, this commander would still execute him without hesitation.”
Three days later, Xiao Jue surrounded Zhao Nuo’s residence with his troops, dragged him before the memorial of the fallen soldiers, and beheaded him.
“The Zhao family actually had some distant ties to both the Xiao and Cheng families,” Cheng Li Su recalled. “That Zhao Nuo, by all accounts, should have been somewhat related to us. My mother even wrote a personal letter begging Uncle to show leniency and leave some room for reconciliation.”
“But Uncle didn’t listen,” he added with a laugh, his tone a mix of resignation and pride.
“Commander Xiao acted so boldly—wasn’t he afraid someone would slander him before the Emperor?” He Yan pondered. “Surely His Majesty would take offense.”
“Just like my elder brother, asking the same question I did,” Cheng Li Su said cheerfully. “I also thought my uncle’s actions were too rash.”
Much later, when that once carefree youth had shed his frivolity, becoming reserved and steady, rising to the esteemed position of Right Army Commander, Cheng Li Su asked, “Uncle, weren’t you afraid His Majesty would hold a grudge against you for this?”
The young man was reading at the time. Hearing the question, he merely chuckled lightly and replied indifferently, “He wouldn’t dare.”
It was the Emperor who wouldn’t dare, not the subject who wasn’t afraid.
And indeed, that was how it played out. Despite the court’s powerful ministers badmouthing him relentlessly, and despite the Minister of Revenue submitting memorial after memorial to the throne demanding punishment, the matter was ultimately dropped. The reason was simple: Xiao Jue, leading the Southern Garrison Troops, had crushed the southern barbarians in an unstoppable advance.
At a time when talent was sorely needed, faced with a choice between a dead military governor and a once-in-a-generation military genius, Emperor Xuanwen was no fool. He knew which to pick.
However, just because Emperor Xuanwen didn’t dare punish Xiao Jue didn’t mean rumors didn’t spread through the capital. The feud between Minister of Revenue Zhao Tong and Xiao Jue was set in stone, and those aligned with Zhao Tong naturally wished Xiao Jue nothing but ill. Even families once friendly with the Xiao clan began to distance themselves from Xiao Jue.
First, because of his cold, unyielding temperament—he had ordered the execution of his own relative without hesitation, showing no mercy. Second, because of his arrogance—he didn’t even regard the Emperor with deference, making it inevitable that he would offend others in the future, potentially dragging down those around him.
The Cheng and Xiao families, being closer relatives, didn’t sever ties entirely. Still, compared to Xiao Jue, they much preferred associating with Xiao Jing."My mother told me not to get too close to Uncle Xiao," Cheng Lisu said. "She said he doesn't care about family ties."
He Yan thought for a moment. "Commander Xiao doesn't seem like that kind of person."
"I know," Cheng Lisu laughed. "I've always known."
Of the two Xiao brothers, the elder was like a clear breeze under the bright moon—humble, gentle, and effortlessly warm, beloved by all. The younger possessed peerless looks and talent, but as if to balance things out, his temperament was far less agreeable.
After the incident where he executed Zhao Nuo in anger, Xiao Jue's reputation as the "Jade-faced Commander, Young Slayer General" spread far and wide, making people even more wary of approaching him. While Zhao Tong had certainly fueled the rumors, Xiao Jue himself had provided plenty of fodder—like how he hadn't shed a single tear at his parents' funeral, too busy petitioning the emperor for military authority before the seventh-day mourning rites had even passed, leaving his elder brother Xiao Jing alone to clean up the mess.
During family gatherings on holidays, he never lingered to chat, only making brief appearances before leaving.
Cheng Lisu still remembered that summer day when his eldest aunt, Bai Rongwei, hosted the Cheng family relatives for a seasonal banquet. The Xiao household, now sparse in numbers, rarely saw such liveliness.
Cheng Lisu had tagged along. At the time, Xiao Jue had just been appointed General Feng Yun, received imperial rewards, and returned to Shuojing shortly after his eighteenth birthday.
The women gathered in the main hall for tea and pastries, while the men discussed politics with Xiao Jing elsewhere. Cheng Lisu looked around but didn't see Xiao Jue.
As a mischievous child whom everyone found annoying, Cheng Lisu had no playmates his age. So he amused himself by chasing a calico cat into the ancestral hall's rear courtyard. He followed it behind a folding screen inside just as the summer weather turned—dark clouds rolled over the city walls by evening, thunder rumbling before a sudden downpour poured.
Holding the orange cat, he was about to leave when footsteps echoed through the hall. Someone had entered.
Peeking from behind the screen, Cheng Lisu saw his elusive uncle walk in.
The young man wore a dark blue cloud-patterned round-collar robe and a Golden Coronet, his bearing as refined as precious jade. In his youth, he'd favored white robes, radiant and elegant, but now he dressed only in dark colors, making his aloofness even more inscrutable.
Xiao Jue picked up three incense sticks, lit them, and began offering them slowly.
Cheng Lisu's eyes widened.
Given the rumors—that Xiao Jue never paid respects to his parents, that he was heartless—this sight contradicted everything he'd heard.
His movements were deliberate: first dusting the incense burner, wiping it clean with cloth, then lighting and placing the incense. Smoke curled upward, dispersing into the air. Yet Xiao Jue didn't leave. He stood there silently, head slightly bowed, lost in thought.The summer day was stifling and humid, with steam seeping in from outside, sticky and oppressive. The thunder grew louder. The young man lowered his gaze, his expression calm. Outside, the heavy rain pattered against the eaves, yet inside the room, it was eerily quiet. Cheng Lisu didn’t understand what was happening, but he inexplicably sensed the strange atmosphere. He didn’t dare breathe too loudly, clutching the tabby cat in his arms as he sat behind the screen with his aloof uncle for over half an hour.
A long time later, the rain stopped, and Xiao Jue left the ancestral hall.
From the moment he entered until his departure, he had only lit three sticks of incense. He said nothing, did nothing—just stood there in silence. Yet those three sticks of incense made Cheng Lisu realize that beneath his uncle’s stern exterior lay an unexpected gentleness.
He was not the heartless man others claimed him to be.
In this world, many people hide their sincerity behind a cold facade. It isn’t that they lack warmth—only that they struggle to express it, brushing it aside with indifference.
People often said Cheng Lisu was still like a child, naive and ignorant. But a child’s eyes are the most discerning when it comes to distinguishing good from evil. He didn’t believe his uncle was as harsh as his mother had described. In fact, he liked this uncle even more than he did the eldest Xiao son.
“My uncle is amazing,” Cheng Lisu said earnestly, looking into her eyes. “If you spend more time with him, you’ll like him too.”
He Yan chuckled, unable to resist ruffling his hair. “I know. I’ve known for a long time.”
…
A thousand miles away in Shuojing, the spring river was dotted with countless lanterns tonight.
The water lanterns illuminated the surface and depths alike, blurring the line between earth and sky. A light drizzle fell, so each lantern was covered with a small paper shade to keep the rain from extinguishing them.
In the Xiao family’s ancestral hall, someone was offering incense.
Since the deaths of Xiao Zhongwu and his wife, the number of servants in the general’s residence had dwindled. With only two sons in the family, and Xiao Jue rarely at home, only Xiao Jing and his wife remained—hardly needing so many attendants. The place was usually quiet, though at times, it felt a little too desolate.
Xiao Jing wore a jade-colored robe. Tall and poised like a bamboo, his gentle demeanor complemented Bai Rongwei’s grace, making them a picture-perfect couple. Incense smoke curled upward as the autumn rain drizzled outside. A cool breeze stirred, and he draped his cloak over Bai Rongwei’s shoulders, speaking softly, “It’s cold. Be careful not to catch a chill.”
“I’m not cold.” Bai Rongwei smiled at him, then sighed worriedly. “I wonder what the weather is like in Liang Province.”
“Tonight is the Ghost Festival,” Xiao Jing murmured, gazing at the fine rain in the courtyard. “If Huaijin were home, it would be nice.”
“He wouldn’t come to the ancestral hall,” Bai Rongwei shook her head. “He never enters.”
“He will.” Xiao Jing’s reply was firm.
Bai Rongwei looked at him in surprise. “But I’ve never seen him…”
“It’s raining today, with thunder,” Xiao Jing smiled. “He will come.”
“Ruyu, I don’t understand.” Bai Rongwei was puzzled.
“When Huaijin was very young, Father took him into the mountains to be taught by a master,” Xiao Jing said quietly, holding her hand. “We barely saw him a few times a year. His nature is proud, and Mother disliked his martial pursuits. In truth, Huaijin and Mother never got along well.”Madame Xiao was the niece of the Empress Dowager, and it was the Empress Dowager who had arranged this marriage back then. Xiao Zhongwu was handsome and valiant, and Madame Xiao had been quite fond of him. However, after their marriage, the conflicts between them gradually surfaced. Madame Xiao was a delicate flower raised in sheltered luxury, unable to endure the slightest grievance, while Xiao Zhongwu, after all, was a military man—not as attentive and considerate as the sons of noble families. Though he never took any concubines, there were times when he inevitably left Madame Xiao feeling discontented.
The years when their quarrels were most intense were also because of Xiao Jue.
Madame Xiao did not want either of her sons to pursue martial paths. The battlefield was a place where blades and arrows had no eyes, and she herself abhorred killing and bloodshed, being a devout Buddhist with a gentle and kind nature. Initially, Xiao Jing had missed the optimal time for martial training due to health reasons, which was unavoidable. But Xiao Jue had been groomed by Xiao Zhongwu since childhood as his future successor.
Madame Xiao did not want her son to follow Xiao Zhongwu’s path, but for the first time, Xiao Zhongwu, who had always been obedient to his wife, refused to heed her pleas.
The son had been separated from his mother for too long. Despite their blood ties, there was inevitably some distance between them. Moreover, Xiao Jue had never been as docile and gentle as Xiao Jing in his youth, occasionally displaying a rebellious streak. Faced with this aloof and proud son, Madame Xiao found herself at a loss for how to interact with him.
When Madame Xiao reached out to Xiao Jue, his responses were always indifferent. She enjoyed savoring tea and discussing poetry, while he preferred practicing swordsmanship and riding horses. Though Xiao Jue was also skilled in poetry, it was ultimately Xiao Jing who accompanied Madame Xiao in the end.
"My mother once confided in me that she was actually a little afraid of Huaijin," Xiao Jing said at this point, seeming somewhat amused. "Later, she simply stopped deliberately seeking him out for conversation. Whenever they interacted, it was always with excessive politeness."
"Huaijin is actually quite pitiful," Xiao Jing's smile turned sorrowful.
"My father has a cold and unyielding temperament and showed Huaijin not an ounce of leniency. I only learned later how much suffering he endured on the mountain. He never spoke of it, so we all assumed he was doing well. If it were me, I probably wouldn’t have lasted long before running away." He laughed self-deprecatingly.
Bai Rongwei comfortingly patted his hand. "Nonsense, you would have done just as well."
Xiao Jing recalled the year Xiao Jue first came down from the mountain. He had asked his younger brother, "How was it up there?"
The young man stretched lazily and smiled nonchalantly. "Not bad."
Those three words—"not bad"—concealed all the hardships he had endured, leaving the outside world with only the image of a spirited Second Young Master Xiao.
"People say a stern father and a loving mother make a balanced upbringing. My father was harsh with him, and my mother wasn’t often by his side. When she finally returned, she was overly polite out of fear. My mother thought he liked sweets, so she often made him osmanthus candy. Huaijin would eat every last bit, fooling even me. Later, his close attendant told me that Huaijin never actually liked sweets."
"Because it was the only way our mother knew how to show her love, he ate it—even though he disliked it, even though no one ever asked him what he truly liked to eat."
Bai Rongwei sighed softly but said nothing."Though I'm his elder brother, it seems I've never been able to help him. People always say he's cold and heartless, comparing him unfavorably to me, but they don't realize that the reason I can be the noble and upright Eldest Young Master Xiao today is precisely because he bore so much on my behalf. This truth I understand, and so does he." He smiled bitterly. "Now I deeply regret that Father didn't let me pursue martial arts back then. Had I not become a civil official, perhaps I would be the one shouldering the Xiao family's burdens today, and Huaijin wouldn't have to suffer others' misunderstandings."
"We all know Huaijin's good intentions," Bai Rongwei said softly. "Father and Mother will understand too."
Xiao Jing looked at the ancestral tablets in the hall. "When we were young, Huaijin wasn't particularly close to Mother, always running off somewhere. But in truth, he always kept her in his heart."
"My mother was timid by nature, easily frightened, and most afraid of thunder. Whenever it thundered, if Huaijin was at home, he would find some excuse to sit in Mother's room. Seeing Huaijin, Mother would forget about the thunder while thinking of how to interact with him. When the rain stopped, Huaijin would leave."
"At first I didn't understand. Once during a thunderstorm, we were both outside when he suddenly said he had urgent business and had to return home. Yet when we got back, he said he wanted osmanthus candy, and Mother busied herself cooking for him. Then I realized—this fellow Huaijin was just afraid Mother would be frightened by the thunder and deliberately found an excuse to come back."
Hearing this, Bai Rongwei also laughed, shaking her head. "Huaijin really..."
"Unfortunately, Mother never knew Huaijin's feelings for her before she passed," Xiao Jing said hoarsely. "Had she known, perhaps things wouldn't have turned out this way."
Bai Rongwei tightly grasped his hand. "Mother's spirit in heaven will understand."
"In life he accompanied Mother, and in death he still does. Whenever he's home during thunderstorms, he comes to the ancestral hall to be with her." Xiao Jing smiled faintly. "This is a secret I haven't told anyone. I think Huaijin wouldn't want others to know either."
Xiao Jue was too proud. He did these things like a gentle spring rain, nourishing silently without seeking any particular outcome. But in the end, when you really think about it, you realize he's the one who's been most shortchanged.
"So that's why you said if he were in Shuojing today, he'd be here in the ancestral hall with Mother," Bai Rongwei said in sudden understanding.
"That's just the kind of person he is," Xiao Jing laughed.
The incense smoke floated upward, slowly dispersing without a trace. Those who have passed are gone, and those unspoken cares and companionship have forever lost their chance to be explained.
"Rubi, you must understand," Bai Rongwei took Xiao Jing's hand and said gently, "everything Huaijin did was to protect the Xiao family. Now that Huaijin is far away in Liang Province with Xu Xiang's faction still viewing our family as a thorn in their side, you must steel yourself even more. Don't let Huaijin's efforts go to waste."
Xiao Jing paused briefly, then smiled. "I know that well."
"I know you ache for Huaijin," Bai Rongwei softened her voice, "but I ache for you too. While Huaijin bears much, haven't you as well? With Xu Xiang openly and covertly suppressing our family, scrutinizing your every mistake, how could you be at ease treading so carefully at court?"
"Don't worry," Xiao Jing smiled. "The hardest times are already behind us."
Bai Rongwei was momentarily taken aback, then smiled too. "You're right."The rain fell incessantly, soaking the courtyard in Shuojing into muddy earth. A thousand miles away in Liang Province, someone leaned against the window in quiet contemplation. His dark hair cascaded over his shoulders like cool, smooth satin, his expression equally detached. The distant sound of a xiao flute drifted in—someone playing a nostalgic tune from their homeland. As he listened, a faint smile touched his lips.
The smile carried a hint of self-mockery and loneliness. Moments later, he closed the window, shutting out the night beyond.
Inside, the lamplight flickered gently, reflecting in his star-like eyes. On the table lay a long wooden tray, scattered with grains of rice from different regions, each marked with a small red flag made of triangular cloth.
Shen Han, Liang Ping, and a group of instructors stood around the table, watching Xiao Jue's every move.
"Commander, are these all the flag locations? Isn't it too many?"
"Not at all." The young man stood poised like jade, holding a chess piece as he pointed to the red flag at the top. "In seven days, we compete for the flags on White Moon Mountain."
Poor uncle.
(End of Chapter)
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