Shen Zechuan had acquired Qi Huilian’s lifetime of knowledge within the Zhaozui Temple. When he had knelt before Qi Huilian six years ago, he already understood the path he was about to walk. He had forged his body and blood through pain and anxiety, once naively believing that he could overturn the constraints of the aristocratic families through political maneuvering alone.
Yet he had failed.
Shen Zechuan looked ahead at the river flowing quietly, like a pitch-black life from which there was no return, glittering only from the reflection of the stars above. He slowly opened the small bamboo fan, then closed it again, and said, “I have left Qu City, yet I remain in a prison of my own making. This is the punishment for having once placed hope in chance. I must find a new path quickly. My teacher entrusted me with his lifelong convictions, and I promised to carry them to the end of this war. Our past endurance was because the Great Zhou still seemed salvageable, but now I understand—it has long since reached its twilight.”
Qi Huilian had shouted in the pouring rain against a collapsing heaven and earth, his arms raised as if trying to hold up a crumbling building. He and Hai Liangyi had walked vastly different paths, yet both had ignited the same torch. At the last moment, as he burned his life for the Li family, he abandoned the crown prince he had once held dear, choosing instead the lowly-born Shen Zechuan.
Qi Huilian’s two students were worlds apart in the eyes of the world. The crown prince, heir to the Li lineage, seemed born to be a wise ruler. Qi Huilian had believed they could create a new world, because they were the indisputable legitimate heirs. Yet he failed. In the mud, he found Shen Zechuan: the son of a defeated father, born of a lowly mother, no part of the legitimate line. Choosing Shen Zechuan marked a lifelong shift in Qi Huilian’s convictions, signaling his rejection of bloodline dictates. He had entrusted this Shen Zechuan to pierce the rotten heavens and broken earth.
“I will no longer continue to endure in silence,” Shen Zechuan placed the fan on his lap, slightly turned, and fixed his gaze on Xiao Chiye. “I will choose another way to fight. I will remain in Zhongbo. You once told Dantai Hu that national shame had not yet been avenged, family grievances not yet repaid. You were right, Ce’an—Zhongbo’s humiliation must be washed away here. One day, we will ride beneath the skies of Li Bei, when I am strong enough. Two million taels of betrothal cannot win away Li Bei’s wolf cub; such a bride price does not suit my Xiao Ce’an. I will remain in Zhongbo, and in the days to come, I will be your impenetrable shield.”
The water pouch tumbled to the ground, splashing onto Xiao Chiye’s robe, scattering water across the floor. Under the soft, gauzy moonlight, Xiao Chiye suddenly grasped Shen Zechuan’s hand and pulled him close, embracing him.
After a long while, Xiao Chiye’s hoarse voice brushed against Shen Zechuan’s ear: “My back is yours, and your chest is mine—we are incomplete without each other. I will choose the finest steed for you in Li Bei. We will build a house on the border between Zhongbo and Li Bei, and meet every month. You will marry me, and two million is not enough—I will buy your smile with a fortune beyond gold.”
Shen Zechuan placed his hand on Xiao Chiye’s back, savoring the intoxicating presence. Xiao Chiye was the wind sweeping across the grasslands, stirring the calm river of Shen Zechuan’s heart, letting him taste the sweetness of being bound to another. He had lost Duanzhou, lost his teacher; what remained was scarce. He had to cross the unfathomable chasm and become the fortress for these remaining treasures.
In recent days, Zhou Gui, governor of Cizhou, had been busy with official affairs. Hearing that the imperial army had passed through Dancheng and was heading to Cizhou, he tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep.
Zhou Gui’s adviser, Kong Ling, a native of Dengzhou in Zhongbo and Zhou Gui’s former classmate, had laid out wine and prepared a few cold dishes. They sat cross-legged under the courtyard corridor, drinking and talking across the small table. The locust trees in the courtyard were shedding white blossoms, wafting a fresh, sweet scent.
“I haven’t slept these past few days,” Zhou Gui admitted, clutching his wine cup.
Kong Ling picked at the cold dishes, swallowing a sip of pungent wine, and said casually, “I know the bandits from Dunzhou have gathered into formidable groups. We have no troops, no horses, and cannot provoke them. Yet last year’s harvest drew the attention of Lei Changming, who has his eyes on Cizhou’s granaries.”
“All the grain was sent to Li Bei’s Iron Cavalry as military rations. Cizhou’s granaries are empty. I wrote to Dunzhou, but you know he is a puppet of Lei Changming—how could he speak for us? I am truly at a loss. And now, the Second Young Master of Li Bei has defected from Qu City, bringing twenty thousand imperial troops to our gates. Chengfeng, I am caught between a wolf and a tiger—I cannot let them pass, nor can I deny them!”
Kong Ling set down his chopsticks. “Li Bei will revolt. Cizhou is trapped in between, its position unstable. You must decide quickly.”
“I cannot decide on my own,” Zhou Gui sighed, “we face wolves ahead and tigers behind. Neither Li Bei nor Qu City can be offended. And Lei Changming is lurking nearby, ready to pounce.”
Kong Ling plucked a locust blossom and dropped it into the wine. “Lei Changming is a bandit—he will be crushed eventually. But the Six States govern separately; they cannot join to eliminate the bandit. The court may not send help anytime soon. I watch him grow more powerful each day, but worrying won’t change that.”
“Six years ago, when the border cavalry invaded, Duan and Dunzhou bore the brunt, becoming barren lands with bones exposed for miles, the fields ruined by war. Who would want to serve as a garrison now?” Zhou Gui gestured around the courtyard. “Cizhou has preserved its remaining strength thanks to Li Bei’s swift rescue. I am grateful and have no complaints about coordinating military provisions. But treason against the emperor is a grave crime. Lei Changming will soon demand food and money. Xiao Chiye has arrived in Cizhou, and I fear what chaos might ensue—it is indeed a case of rain falling on a leaky roof!”
Kong Ling drank, suddenly enlightened. “Xiao Chiye brings twenty thousand well-trained imperial troops to Cizhou. Aren’t they our ‘soldiers’? With him in command, Lei Changming will think twice.”
“The imperial army has been stationed in Qu City for years—they’ve never faced real combat. Lei Changming overthrew the garrisons in Duan and Dunzhou. He relies on disciplined troops and knowledge of Zhongbo’s rivers and mountains. Xiao Chiye may not match him.” Zhou Gui waved his hands. “Moreover, Xiao Chiye is young, untested in battle, and backed by his father and brothers. If anything happens in Cizhou, I cannot answer to Li Bei.”
Kong Ling stroked his goatee. “Xiao Chiye has merit for Emperor Tianchen’s succession. His defection proves he can command troops—otherwise, who would risk their lives following him so far? Seeing is believing. We’ll meet him properly when he arrives.”
“I hear he is not easy to deal with,” Zhou Gui said anxiously. “If he comes with the airs of Qu City nobility, I must find a way to get him out quickly. I cannot afford trouble.”
A few days later, the imperial army indeed reached the gates of Cizhou. Zhou Gui, unwilling to let them pass outright, opened the gates for Xiao Chiye and Shen Zechuan. He had prepared a feast, but Xiao Chiye, citing fatigue from the journey, declined and asked for a simple home-cooked meal instead.
They had never met in person, only by letters—there was no past to reminisce over. This was simply a chance to converse in detail.
Shen Zechuan changed his clothes and stood behind a screen, peering through the window at the courtyard.
Xiao Chiye arrived late, undressing halfway. Leaning over the screen, he watched Shen Zechuan behind it. “Can you see clearly through the screen?”
Shen Zechuan, noticing how easily the screen was pressed down, thought, “Dreamlike, yet still captivating. Seeing clearly removes some of the enchantment.”
Xiao Chiye’s half-open robe revealed part of his chest, strong muscles visible even through the screen. Since leaving Qu City, he no longer wore a crown, his messy hair only highlighting his rugged charm. The closer he drew to Li Bei, the freer and more unruly he seemed.
“Such a frivolous scoundrel,” Shen Zechuan muttered, stepping closer, pulling Xiao Chiye’s hair at the nape of his neck, lifting him up for a kiss.
Xiao Chiye pinched Shen Zechuan’s chin, teasing his shorter stature, and raised him higher. Shen Zechuan’s smooth, pale neck tingled from the kiss.
“See clearly now?” Xiao Chiye murmured, tracing Shen Zechuan’s moist lips. “Is this not enough allure?”
Shen Zechuan licked his lips, blushing deeper. “Still not quite.”
“Tonight, five hundred taels,” Xiao Chiye whispered, “guaranteed profit.”
“I fear my delicate body cannot withstand it,” Shen Zechuan murmured, leaning back slightly, fingers trailing down Xiao Chiye’s chest beneath the thin fabric of the screen.
“Do not belittle yourself,” Xiao Chiye’s eyes gleamed dangerously. “Lanzhou.”
Shen Zechuan withdrew his hand. “When we entered, I saw someone by Zhou Gui—who is that?”
“I don’t know,” Xiao Chiye said, efficiently changing his clothes. “Probably Zhou Gui’s adviser. We’ll ask at the meal.”
“Since he didn’t let us pass immediately, there are still concerns,” Shen Zechuan noted, watching Xiao Chiye step out from behind the screen. “When we talk tonight, we must not—”
Suddenly, Xiao Chiye seized Shen Zechuan by the waist, spun him, and pressed him against the window wall, giving him a fierce kiss. Shen Zechuan raised his arms around him, dazed and breathless.
“We must not abuse our position,” Xiao Chiye said seriously, “I will follow the wife’s instructions.”
Shen Zechuan, still catching his breath, felt Xiao Chiye fasten his collar and gently part his dark hair, pinching his right ear.
“I want to hang a pendant here early, engraving my name—Xiao Ce’an.”