Who was beautiful was up to whoever said so
That day, Wei He knelt for a whole day and night, and finally collapsed. The moment his body touched the ground, he was carried away by men that Yu Jinnian had ordered long ago, stripped, examined for injuries, and cleaned up all in one go. Min Xuefei did not bother with him.
He had seen earlier that Wei He’s back was soaked through in red; now, upon inspecting the wounds, he found that even though the injuries looked frightening, they were only superficial wounds. As a warrior, Wei He’s body was strong, and with medicine applied, he would recover in a few days. It appeared Min Ji had shown mercy—if he had really been intent on killing him, a couple of dozen military lashes were enough to cost a man half his life.
Deputy General Wei had knelt in the cold wind and was running a high fever—he wouldn’t be getting out of bed for now.
Even though they fed him medicine, the fever wasn’t likely to break so quickly. Yu Jinnian, with a towel dipped in strong liquor, carefully avoided the man’s injuries as he wiped him down to cool him off. Wei He drifted in and out of consciousness, came to, and as soon as he saw a silhouette by the bed, called out “General” and struggled to get up.
Yu Jinnian, along with two medical officers, pressed this bull-headed patient down on the bed, only for the hastily bandaged wounds to split open again, the gauze instantly dyed red. Yu Jinnian was so angry that he felt like hitting someone.
Laid up sick, Wei He was still restless. His back was densely mesh-marked with wounds like a net; there was one particularly dangerous gash across the arm, just barely missing the bone. During retreat, sweat and mud had seeped into it, and Yu Jinnian had spent who knows how many hours tending his wounds by lamplight. Yet, Wei He seemed not to understand his effort in the least, stubbornly refusing to lie still, making Yu Jinnian change the bandages over and over, as if he felt no pain.
The medical officers couldn’t control him, nor did they dare, leaving Yu Jinnian to watch over him personally. Acupuncture, more medicine, and even Yu Jinnian was exhausted, yet Wei He was still full of energy—one couldn’t help but marvel at these soldiers’ astonishing vigor.
Not until the moon rose and the night wind stirred was it finally quiet. To save costs, all the candles inside and out had long since been put out; only a stub of candle remained at the bedside, burning quietly, occasionally letting off a sharp crackle. Wei He lay facedown, watching as the candle burned an inch at a time, noticing a red mark left by his own scratch on Yu Jinnian’s hand when he struggled earlier in the day. He couldn’t close his eyes—he was worried.
“In the Wei family, we only die on the battlefield.”
Yu Jinnian jolted awake from a doze and replied instinctively when he heard Wei He speak: “Hm?”
Wei He’s eyes were red with anger: “Men of the Wei family may only die in battle! Never on a sickbed!” Eunuchs had framed his father, who died of illness in prison without even a chance to answer before the Imperial Court. If he didn’t avenge this, he would have let down his ancestors, let down the Wei family’s devotion to military excellence, its heroes. But he remembered his father’s last words: men of the Wei family, even in death, must die on the frontlines for the country.
Yu Jinnian yawned and nodded: “If you want to die in battle, first get well enough to get out of bed.”
Wei He, half his face pressed into the pillow and back burning with pain, saw how exhausted Yu Jinnian looked, still stubbornly tending to this convict, and couldn’t help but ask: “Little Master Yu, why did you study medicine?”
“Me?” Yu Jinnian propped his chin and smiled. “My father was a doctor, so I am a doctor too.”
Wei He hadn’t known much about him before, but now felt a sense of kinship from this line, blinked, and took it as a nod: “My father was a soldier too.” Carried a rifle for decades but died at the hands of eunuchs. That’s why he wanted to take Zhongling, earn merit before the throne, and plead for a retrial for his father’s injustice.
Yu Jinnian said: “A son succeeds his father, so you are destined to be a general. Open up new lands, defend the country—General Wei, your future is still vast. Your late father in heaven would surely wish to see you gain limitless honor and safeguard the land.”
Yu Jinnian smoothed out his clenched fists and said gently, “Recuperate well; there is a long road ahead.”
Wei He wrinkled his nose. “Little Master Yu sure knows how to talk—and your hands are gentle; no wonder all the soldiers in my camp like you bandaging their wounds.”
Yu Jinnian: “……”
These last two years, winter has come early and been colder than usual. Last year had been okay, a prosperous year, but this year, though it began well, disaster and strife hit in earnest. Drought and flood above, plague below, and now war—north to south, there was only confusion everywhere. Beiyan Pass had just been taken, the Northern Conquest General was busy inspecting the borders and military affairs in the north and hadn’t had the chance to return to the capital and claim honours. The Deputy General led troops south, ordered to reinforce Zhongling.
Min Ji had long failed to take Zhongling, and the court was already full of rumors. As expected, some accused Min Ji of drawing his salary without relieving the emperor’s worries, hiding beneath Baota Mountain, afraid to act, afraid to die—unworthy as a subject—and asked for an imperial edict to question him. Feng Jian was also stirring things up in the inner palace. The chief eunuch Fusheng, planted by Lian Zhi, heard Feng Jian’s nonsense and thought it serious, so he hurriedly and quietly sent a message to Baota Mountain.
Lian Zhi was furious: “These people, do they even know which country they serve? Maybe they’ve long since colluded with the rebels and are forcing you to attack Zhongling just to send you to your death?” He got up, taking up his brush: “These peasant fools—do they really think following Feng Jian leads to riches? They can submit memorials, so can I. As for such dirty tricks and false accusations, who’s better at that than me?”
Ink dripped onto the paper. Min Xuefei caught his hand: “There’s no need to dirty your own hands with this sort of thing.”
Zhongling lost, the emperor was anxious beyond words—and no wonder, for Zhongling was Daxia’s gate to the river. If Yan Chang crossed the river, he’d press right onto the Jiangbei plain, threatening Xiajing directly, so Daxia was in grave peril. If the emperor were not worried, he’d be mad. Min Xuefei also knew people in the capital had long whispered they belonged to the Ji faction and Min clique—many resented them. The two had relied on the emperor’s favor and run rampant for years. Some taking advantage to impeach them was perfectly normal—strange only if no one did.
Lian Zhi, fuming, blurted out: “I’m practiced at this—I promise it’ll be flawless. It won’t hurt your reputation. I’m going to be vilified in the history books anyway. This Inspection Office is meant to raise a ruckus—why not make some trouble of my own?”
“Yunsheng,” Min Xuefei murmured, pressing down his hand, “No need, really. I don’t want you troubled.” He was no longer angry, but rather quite happy to see Lian Zhi baring his fangs like a bandit king about to raise a fuss for his wife. He took the brush from Lian Zhi’s hand and said warmly, “How long has Jingyou Year’s historian been remembered? Why are you so sure you’ll be remembered for infamy?”
“Yunsheng, I will make you the first Grand Supervisor of the Palace to be honored in the official records for all time.”
Hearing himself called “Yunsheng,” Lian Zhi was stunned, peach blossom eyes staring blankly at him. Back when the Lian family fell from grace, Lian Yunsheng was only eight, baby teeth not even all changed. When he was sent to the palace as property, he had not even received a courtesy name, and later, taken by Feng Jian as a foster son, he changed his name.
No one in the world remembered his real name was Lian Yunsheng, the young lord of Qingzhou, supposed to live gloriously.
Except for Min Xuefei—he called him intimately Yunsheng, as if biting into Lian Zhi’s heart.
“I broke a promise once. This time, I will keep it. You…” Min Xuefei packed away the writing things and turned—by the hazy candlelight, the young officer’s face was flecked with starlight. He reached out, surprised: “You’re… crying again?”
The more he was asked, the harder he cried, catching his breath in sobs. Min Xuefei finally realized just how much sentimentality lurked inside him—just like the sparkling rain of old, impossible to wipe dry.
He could only lift him onto the bed. Remembering Yu Jinnian’s words that sick people carried all sorts of poisons and germs, he suppressed his urge to kiss and soothed him attentively.
The day after Min Xuefei promised Lian Zhi a place in history, Lian Zhi accused two senior eunuchs who colluded with Feng Jian and leaked information to the capital of treason, and had them executed as a public warning. He had wanted to be rid of them anyway; finding them out late at night gave a perfect excuse to set an example. Some who spoke out in protest, he had executed as well.
Blood seeped along the cracks in the floor to his feet, a steaming, viscous puddle of crimson. Many had long since tired of these eunuchs’ hypocrisy and secretly rejoiced.
Winter was sharp, but dazzling as well, the brightness shining out to catch the astonishment on the young general’s face outside the drill ground.
Lian Zhi lowered his eyes; others only saw coldness, moodiness, and violence, but they didn’t know he was simply stunned by the heat of blood at his feet—be honoured in history? He dared not hope. But if he could smooth Min Xuefei’s path and help him climb to the very top, he didn’t mind being a “powerful but infamous eunuch.”
Powerful eunuchs could move heaven and earth; loyal ministers were timid. Lian Zhi had never considered himself a good man.
To have Min Xuefei’s words, Lian Zhi felt it was worth it.
The winter sun was blinding, cloudless above, glaring against the blood on the drill yard. Min Xuefei, himself hungry for power—more ambitious and driven than the Minister Min—had even once quarrelled fiercely with Ji Hong over a marriage alliance. Now, in plain white, seeing Lian Zhi make such decisive moves, he finally understood Ji Hong.
He wanted to see Lian Zhi away from officialdom, best with an estate outside the city. He’d dress in brocades, collect rent, worry about nothing, no more fear of waking to find his head no longer on his shoulders—an easy, smooth life.
Min Xuefei started toward Lian Zhi, but a gust of sand rose outside the drill ground. A rider sped up, dismounting at a roll: “General, word from the scouts—rebellion has broken out in Huan City to the south; they’ve robbed the rations sent by Jiangnan for Zhongling!”
Yan Chang had been robbed?
Before he could speak, another rider—this one in red armour with a red spear tassel and two hundred guards—arrived at the gate, falling into ranks. The Red Tassel General dismounted, crisp as the northern snow, took one look and saw that the highest-ranking official present was a eunuch in Inner Court dress—presumably the inspector, and strikingly beautiful, as lush as a peony.
He strode up to the one most like a general, saluted with clasped fists, and bellowed, “Subordinate He Lianzhi, leading thirty thousand Northern Conquest infantry and three thousand elite cavalry, reports for duty!”
The man he saluted, bearded and burly, was actually only a captain and was dumbfounded by He Lianzhi’s address, speechless for some time. He Lianzhi, seeing no response, saluted again: “Deputy General of the Northern Conquest Army, He Lianzhi, with—”
“General He, my surname is Min.”
He Lianzhi turned to see, in the winter sun, a white-robed scholar standing tall, his features elegant and fair. He was shocked—did the court really send such a bookish youth, powerless in appearance, to suppress rebellion?
Steadying himself, he thought, Well, it doesn’t matter if the general is weak; surely the famed strategist is here to advise!
Just then, another appeared: pale blue robe, hands in fur cuffs, breath clouding before his face, gliding out as if a heavenly being had descended. In an instant, the gray drill ground shone with rainbow light. He Lianzhi, hardened in the northern wilds among rough men whose faces were as coarse as rasps, touched only with splinters.
But this man—he glowed with whiteness! He Lianzhi stared, eyes wide.
“A Hong! Ji Hong!” A youth came running, wrapping a fox fur coat around his shoulders. “You’re gone in the blink of an eye—put this on, it’s warm inside, don’t catch a cold coming suddenly outdoors.”
“……” He Lianzhi’s face fell—so this was Ji family’s young master, the army’s strategist? What was with this army—was rank determined by beauty from top to bottom?!
When Wei He finally recovered from his wounds and was allowed by Yu Jinnian to leave the infirmary, He Lianzhi, still dejected, saw the bandaged Wei He and brightened like meeting an old friend. He rushed over, grasped his hand, grateful tears in his eyes—finally, someone alike in this army camp!
From then on, eating and drinking, He Lianzhi trailed Wei He everywhere, almost making him think he’d been sent by Min Ji to monitor him. Finally, unable to bear it, Wei He said, “General He, I’m a native of the capital prefecture. Where are you from?”
He Lianzhi’s family was from Yancheng, his clan making a living there for generations. Only his father’s generation entered the capital for official service, so technically outsiders. He Lianzhi clapped Wei He’s shoulder, instantly friendly: “Not far, not far.”
……
The capture of supplies infuriated Yan Chang so much that he hurled a gold bowl to the floor.
Grain from Jiangnan was hard to requisition, and money was even harder. The spoils just seized were only enough to supply the garrison for a month—yet that single month was what Yan Chang needed. If only they lasted that long, the supplies from Yuèzhou would arrive.
But even that month, fate wouldn’t grant him!
“How did a rebellion start in Huan City!” Yan Chang demanded. “What about the garrison?”
Zhou Feng took two steps back without answering, while the accompanying general rushed to say, “There’s no garrison left in Huan City. Troops were dispatched to the thirteen southern prefectures to suppress unrest, then more were drawn to the coast to secure sea defences. Along the way, Min’s men harried them constantly—casualties unknown! Now there’s barely thirty or forty thousand at Zhongling—who remembers Huan City now?”
Huan City was not a major metropolis, but it was a choke-point for supply transport. With its loss, Yan Chang’s supply line from Yuè was cut.
They debated from noon to night without a result. Yan Chang, exhausted, summoned Yu Xu to bring wine.
The steaming wine, poured not too full in a jade cup, was just right. Yan Chang drank, and immediately felt soothed, his body and mind relaxed.
Yu Xu, pressing his temples, whispered in his ear: “Your Highness, I need some men. The palace is lonely…could I go out for a stroll? See the sights of Zhongling, let them accompany me on a walk.”
Yan Chang, tipsy, said, “…Who do you want?”
Yu Xu smiled carefully: “No one important, just those being held on criminal charges by Chief Zhou, all prisoners anyway—I’ll just pick a few older ones who can at least talk sense. Your Highness … a pass, perhaps?”
There were so many prisoners that Yan Chang could not remember who they all were, only recalling a few local gentry and rich men, none of any account. He held a jade cup in one hand, tore a strip from his undergarment with the other, dipped it in the ink Yu Xu offered, and penned a few characters. Then he slumped back on the couch, impatiently rubbing his aching neck: “Take it. And bring more calming wine.”
Yu Xu immediately tucked the pass into his collar: “Thank you, Your Highness!”