Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Prologue

The Great Jing dynasty had endured for over a century. At its peak, Emperor Wuzong's might reached across the realm, with countless kingdoms paying tribute, ushering in an era of grand prosperity.

Yet, as the cycle of fortune goes, extreme prosperity inevitably leads to decline. From the reign of Li Sheng's grandfather onward, the Great Jing's fortunes gradually waned. By the Puzhao years of his father's reign, internal strife and external threats came in quick succession, with flames of war rising on all sides.

Perhaps Heaven favored Great Jing, or perhaps in chaotic times, heroes would ultimately rise. Amidst the ceaseless conflicts, a man named Nan Chunfeng rose from the ranks of the army.

Nan Chunfeng was originally an ordinary commandant in the western border army, but he showed his mettle during the fierce battles with tribes beyond the passes. At that time, the battle was at a stalemate. He led eight hundred light cavalry into the enemy formation, charging a thousand li across the sands. Not only did he rescue the trapped Western Frontier Chief Military Counselor, but he also, amidst the enemy host, nonchalantly beheaded the opposing general.

From then on, Nan Chunfeng's fame echoed across the borderlands, setting him on the path to becoming a renowned general.

The day the external invaders retreated was the day internal rifts began to show. The Nan family's victory drew a hundred more attacks, yet lamentably, those fists came not only from beyond the passes.

Before imperial power, submission left no room for the slightest defiance. As Nan Chunfeng rose through the ranks, ultimately taking command of the three armies, the nine border fortresses gradually stabilized, and barbarians from all sides dared not invade. But the soldiers knew only "the Marquis," not "the Court." With such an unwieldy situation, this commander, whose power overshadowed the court, finally became the nightmare of the entire court.

Suspicion and fear spread like wildfire. While Nan Chunfeng fought on the battlefield for the nation, he also had to constantly guard against hidden conspiracies brewing from afar. Even his only son, Nan Wuxie, was detained in the capital, under constant surveillance, his freedom of movement restricted, making his every move difficult.

In the winter of the twenty-third year of Puzhao, Great Jing Emperor Li Kegan passed away. The whole nation donned white mourning garments. Crown Prince Li Sheng ascended the throne, adopting the era name Jinyuan.

In the second year of Jinyuan, Nan Chunfeng died in battle in the northern frontier. The sudden death sent shockwaves through the court. The anxieties of all factions in the court immediately overtook their earlier wariness—including those of Li Sheng, seated on the dragon throne.

With Nan Chunfeng dead, who would fight this war?

In the court, all the ministers fell silent. No one dared to accept the position of "commander." Not only because the outcome of the war was uncertain, but also because everyone knew in their hearts: taking this command seal meant becoming the next Nan Chunfeng.

The way of a general was the most difficult: winning risked outshining the sovereign, while losing meant disgracing the army and the nation.

After weighing his options repeatedly, Li Sheng finally turned his gaze back to the Nan family. The seventeen-year-old Nan Wuxie assumed command while still in mourning, inherited his father's title while also picking up the bloodstained seal of command.

Perhaps the Great Jing's fortune had not yet run out, or perhaps the Nan family's bloodline was destined to be fated for the battlefield. This youth, not yet of age, single-handedly commanded the army. Within just a single year, all enemies who had invaded the northern frontier were utterly defeated.

Nan Wuxie became famous in a single battle. The name "Nan Wuxie" resounded through the court just as his father's had. The border passes of Great Jing returned to peace.

In the eighth year of Jinyuan, after a victorious battle in the Eastern Sea and the initial retreat of the Japanese pirates, Nan Wuxie had intended to use coastal defense as a pretext to continue distancing himself from court conflicts. However, with an irrevocable imperial decree delivered to the Eastern Sea camp, Nan Wuxie's days of freedom came to an end.

That night, he stared silently at the vermilion seal on the decree for a long time. The candle flame flickered in the wind, casting shifting light and shadow on the bright yellow brocade.

Not until the candle had burned more than half did Nan Wuxie finally unclench his fist, which he had clenched all night.

"Issue my command," he said, his eyes darkening, "we are returning to the capital."

"Yes, sir." His deputy, Wei Qinghe, bowed with a salute.

It was deep autumn. A bright moon hung over the imperial city. Within the Chenji Hall, the young emperor was reclining in the dragon throne at the imperial desk, resting with his eyes closed. Candlelight flickered. The palace attendants in the hall held their breath and lowered their heads.

After a long while, the old eunuch Wang Dequan shuffled in and whispered something in Li Sheng's ear. Only then did he slowly open his eyes and say indifferently, "Summon him."

Wang Dequan bowed and withdrew. After a moment, he led a gentleman into the hall with a strikingly handsome face.

The man stopped and saluted calmly: "Your servant Wen Buchi, kowtows before Your Majesty."

Li Sheng, with half-closed eyes, wearily waved his hand. Wang Dequan immediately understood and ushered the attendants out of the hall silently.

The hall door gently closed. In the vast hall, only the sovereign and his minister remained.

Li Sheng did not speak, only silently looked down at the man standing in the center of the hall.

Wen Buchi also did not raise his head, saying nothing. For a moment, there was no sound in the hall, and silence stretched on.

After a short while, as if having decided something, he raised his eyes and parted his lips, his voice clear: "Your Majesty, the Marquis's military achievements are outstanding. He should retire."

Hearing this, Li Sheng's expression remained unchanged, revealing neither joy nor anger. He did not respond immediately, only lowering his brows to toy with the green jade paperweight on the table.

The heavy silence lingered for a moment before the emperor spoke slowly, still without raising his eyes: "My dear minister Nan has rendered great service to our Great Jing. Minister Wen's words would chill the soldiers' hearts, would they not?"

"No matter how great his achievements, a minister is still a minister," Wen Buchi said unhurriedly. "This time, in pacifying the Eastern Sea, the Marquis has labored. Would it not be an act of imperial grace to let him rest?"

"Oh?" Li Sheng looked up at Wen Buchi, whose eyes were lowered. The man then slowly raised his gaze, and their eyes met. The emperor's lips curled slightly, and Wen Buchi, with a faint smile, lowered his head again.

"Minister Wen..." Li Sheng chuckled, stroking the paperweight. "You truly are the one who knows my heart."

The autumn wind rose, and the candlelight in the hall swayed slightly, casting their faces in shadow.

Li Sheng tapped lightly on the table with his bent finger. "News has been coming from the army that now Nan Wuxie has become utterly ruthless and bloodthirsty, a completely different person from before. Minister Wen, how much of this do you think is true, and how much false?"

The "before" Li Sheng referred to was the years when Nan Wuxie was a hostage in the capital during his childhood.

With his father's great achievements, he was destined not to reveal his talent or seek fame. Those years, he was cautious and reserved, constrained in every way. Such prolonged suppression could have warped his mind, making him fierce and ruthless once free—that was possible.

But it was also possible that he had been biding his time for the future.

Wen Buchi thought for a moment and then explained: "The Marquis left the capital over five years ago. I dare not rashly judge what the youth's character has become, only..."

He looked up and smiled. "If you say the Marquis would truly reveal his true nature as a bloodthirsty killer, I absolutely do not believe it."

Indeed, that was the logic. When all the soldiers unanimously described Nan Wuxie as "ruthless and without principles," then he was definitely not a ruthless and without-principles person. After all, a general who could not win the loyalty of his troops would have died on the battlefield long ago.

Moreover, a notoriously ruthless general was always more reassuring than a Non-Imperial Marquis with military power daring to show his true face? That would be a joke.

Li Sheng set the paperweight down on the table, feigning displeasure.

"Continue."

Wen Buchi bowed slightly: "I believe that regardless of whether the Marquis has deliberately deceived us, now that he has been summoned back to the capital under imperial decree, we might take this opportunity to allow the Marquis to retire to a peaceful life."

Outside the hall, the autumn wind swept past the door, making a wailing sound.

Li Sheng suddenly laughed: "Minister Wen, you want to strip the Nan family of military power? Wen Buchi, you are very bold."

"I dare not," Wen Buchi said, understanding perfectly, his expression unchanged. "I only think that instead of suspicion..."

"Instead of what?"

"Instead, grant a favor," Wen Buchi said softly. "For example, a marriage decree."

At these two words, alarm bells rang. Li Sheng's fingers paused, but his voice remained calm: "Continue."

Wen Buchi, still bowing, did not notice: "I have heard that the Marquis has not yet married. If Your Majesty selects a lady from a noble family and bestows her upon him, it would both show imperial grace and fulfill the bond between sovereign and minister."

Hearing this, Li Sheng's expression was unreadable. After a long moment, he chuckled softly: "Minister Wen has thought meticulously. Only..."

He slowly rose, walked to the man, and pinched his shoulder. "Do you think Nan Wuxie will see this as a grace?"

Wen Buchi paused: "Thunder and rain are both the sovereign's grace."

"The late emperor left me this hollow court, with entrenched aristocratic clans and overpowerful border generals." Li Sheng applied more pressure with his hand, but his voice remained calm. "Wen Buchi, since you know my thoughts so well, yet you still bring them together—truly, you are my loyal minister."

Wen Buchi winced at the grip, gritting his teeth to endure the pain. "Your Majesty need not worry. The aristocratic clans' fear of the Nan family may be greater than your own. With the six great clans mutually restraining each other, if one were to forge a marriage alliance with the Nan family, what would the other five aristocratic clans do? They would never sit idly by—"

Li Sheng's hand tightened further, cutting off Wen Buchi's words, but he still forced out the last sentence: "Your Majesty can reap the spoils."

As the words fell, Li Sheng's grip gradually loosened, then he gave a cold smile that did not reach his eyes. "Lord Wen understands me well."

"It is my duty to share Your Majesty's burdens."

***

When Wen Buchi returned to his residence, it was already past midnight. He went straight to the study, sat down behind the tea table, and rested one hand on it, his fingertips lightly tapping the surface.

Candlelight flickered, the room silent save for the occasional tap of his fingers.

After a moment, he suddenly spoke: "Look into the Cui family's recent movements."

At his words, a faint rustle of fabric came from the shadows, followed by a dark figure slipping silently out the window.

Soon, a soft knock came at the door. Wen Buchi rubbed his temples. "Enter."

Meng Zhentang, the deputy director of the Listening Terrace, opened the door, bowed, and greeted, "My lord."

"Sit."

Meng Zhentang took his seat. Wen Buchi picked up his tea cup, took a sip. "Nan Wuxie's return to the capital will stir unrest among the court and the aristocratic clans. With so many people, opinions will be divided—some fear him like a tiger, others yearn for him like a star."

He looked up at Meng Zhentang, his finger resting gently on the rim of the cup. "This noise is truly irritating."

Meng Zhentang understood, lowering his voice. "I have been watching closely the Cui family at the Ministry of War. Minister Cui has yet to make a move, but as for the Young Master Cui..."

"Young and impetuous, unable to contain himself," Wen Buchi said, his voice light and tone flat. "He grew up with Nan Wuxie, so their bond is naturally unusual. However..."

He narrowed his eyes, suspicion dawning. "How could Minister Cui allow his son to be so reckless?"

"I suspect Minister Cui may have already secretly contacted Nan Wuxie."

Wen Buchi let out a faint, mirthless smile. "Truly, what the superior likes, the inferior will take to extremes."

He lifted his cup again, blew the tea foam aside, and drained it.

The two fell into silence. Meng Zhentang hesitated before finally speaking. "My lord, the eldest son of the Wen family..." He paused, then quickly corrected himself, "Wen Zuoyue has been dealt with."

At the name "Wen Zuoyue," Wen Buchi's expression shifted slightly. He slowly closed his eyes and gave a soft, "Mm."

The Wen family had once been the foremost of the six great clans, flourishing when Wen Jiuquan, the Grand Tutor of the late emperor, held power. But since his death, this centuries-old noble family had declined. The current patriarch, Wen Jiucheng (Wen Jiuquan's younger brother), held no official post. Among his four sons, only the youngest son, Wen Buchi, showed promise; the other three were mediocre and unable to shoulder great responsibilities.

After a pause, Wen Buchi spoke again, his voice turned cold. "The Wen family should never have held power."

He paused, his tone growing even colder. "Wen Jiucheng... deserves to die."

These final words, spoken softly, made Meng Zhentang cast a quick, furtive glance at his master, then lower his eyes, saying nothing.

A moment later, Wen Buchi collected his thoughts and spoke slowly. "I called you here today for another matter."

"Please speak, my lord."

"His Majesty specifically asked which gate Nan Wuxie's personal guard should enter through when he arrives in the capital in a few days," Wen Buchi said, looking up at Meng Zhentang. "What do you think?"

Meng Zhentang thought for a moment. "By protocol and rank, it should be the Mingde Gate, naturally. Given Marquis Nan's status and position, there's no other option..."

He trailed off, looking to Wen Buchi for guidance.

"Don't I know the rules?" Wen Buchi said, looking tired, leaning lightly against the armrest. "Doesn't His Majesty know the rules?"

Since both knew the rules, the question couldn't just be about rules.

Perhaps Li Sheng was being petty-minded, or perhaps too eager to put Nan Wuxie in his place. But he was also concerned with appearances, unwilling to issue any decree that would strain the ruler-minister relationship. He needed someone else to say it for him.

But no matter who at court proposed changing the gate of entry, and no matter the excuse, it would look bad—after all, no one at court was foolish enough to miss the underlying intent.

Moreover, such a petty trick would have no effect if the recipient didn't react.

Still, what could Wen Buchi do? Li Sheng wanted to do it, and Li Sheng wanted him to do it. He had no choice but to comply. He had to find a way.

After a long pause, Meng Zhentang watched his master, who sat with lowered eyes, fingertips pressed to his temple as if nursing a headache, his face calm. He ventured a suggestion: "My lord, perhaps which gate is used doesn't really matter."

Wen Buchi looked up at these words, candlelight dancing in his eyes, as if a spark of life had returned. "Go on."

***

A few days later, at seven in the morning (the start of the Chen hour), Nan Wuxie arrived in the capital with his personal guard.

Inside the Mingde Gate, rows of Imperial Guards stood in silence. The streets were crowded with onlookers craning their necks, but no one dared to make a sound.

Outside the closed city gate, the lead rider on a pure black war horse breathed out white vapor. The man raised his hand and removed his helmet, revealing his sharp profile.

Nan Wuxie gazed at the heavy gate. Morning light brushed the corner of his slightly raised lips, casting a deep shadow. It was unclear what he was smiling at.

Wei Qinghe, at his side, asked in a low voice, "Marquis, what... what does this mean?"

"It's fine," Nan Wuxie said, his grin widening. "We'll see what Li Sheng has prepared to welcome us."

With that, he tugged the reins, and the horse stepped forward toward the gate.

When they were less than a hundred feet away, the gate slowly opened from within.

Nan Wuxie looked closely. Beneath the vermillion gate, a figure in bamboo-green official robes walked out slowly, wide sleeves fluttering in the wind. The face was as beautiful as a spring flower, but the brows were tinged with a cold frost.

"Marquis, it's someone from the imperial presence," Wei Qinghe reminded him in a low voice.

Nan Wuxie's gaze swept over the figure, then he lightly squeezed his horse's flanks and moved forward until they were face to face. He reined in the horse.

Morning light slanted from behind him, casting the rider's shadow completely over the man below. In the shadow, Wen Buchi slowly looked up. His jade crown accentuated his refined, elegant demeanor.

He looked up with a smile, his voice like warm jade. "Marquis, you have had a long journey. His Majesty has sent me to welcome you here."

Nan Wuxie did not dismount. He looked down at the man from his lofty position, scanning him from head to toe.

He knew exactly who Wen Buchi was: Deputy Director of the Privy Council, Seal Keeper of the Listening Terrace, the sharp blade in His Majesty's hand.

Now, that blade was pointed gently at him.

"Lord Wen," he said, the three words carried on the wind, betraying no emotion. "I've heard much about you."

Wen Buchi met his gaze, a faint smile on his lips. "Marquis is a hero of the Great Jing. It is my honor that my humble name has reached your ears."

He then stepped aside. "The gate is open. Please, Marquis."

In truth, the scene at the gate was still not particularly subtle—merely a display that even with Nan Wuxie at the gate, entry depended on the city's will.

Still, it was somewhat more dignified than opening a different gate.

Wei Qinghe slowly pressed his hand to the sword hilt, but then saw his lord break into a sudden smile.

Nan Wuxie casually tossed him the horsewhip, his cloak billowing in the autumn wind. "Then I suppose I'll be troubling Lord Wen?"

"Just doing my duty." Wen Buchi nodded with a smile and turned to lead the way.

In the instant their horses passed each other, both men's eyes were as calm as deep, still pools.

As the dust-covered warhorse crossed the city gate, the long street instantly erupted into cheers. The young lord, upright as a pine, rode slowly, his knuckles tightening on the reins, the dust unable to conceal the sharpness in his eyes.

Deputy General Wei Qinghe followed closely, scanning the surging crowd warily.

Amid the clamor, Nan Wuxie took the lead, while Wen Buchi's blue-canopied carriage followed unhurriedly on the left, just a step behind him.

"When you left the capital, my lord, the locust trees along this road were probably no thicker than a bowl." Wen Buchi lifted the curtain, his clear voice cutting through the noise.

Nan Wuxie did not turn his head. "Lord Wen seems quite attentive to plants."

"What I'm more attentive to is people."

As the words dissipated, the horse suddenly halted. Nan Wuxie finally turned his head, just in time to meet Wen Buchi, who was leaning out of the carriage window.

The autumn sun shattered into shimmering light in those peach blossom eyes, but beneath them lay a cold, unfathomable abyss.

"No wonder Lord Wen is so valued by His Majesty," Nan Wuxie pulled slightly on the reins. "You must be 'attentive to people' quite often in your daily life, don't you?"

The carriage curtain dropped abruptly, and Wen Buchi's voice came through the blue silk:

"Just easing His Majesty's burdens."