Shen Zechuan could not get up anymore. His inner thighs were covered in bite marks, and he was pinned beneath Xiao Chiye, sleeping until nearly the third quarter of the hour of the Snake. When Fei Sheng came to call on them, Shen Zechuan still had not woken. Xiao Chiye lowered his head and kissed him from behind, forcing him into a breathless state.
“Spare me,” Shen Zechuan said hoarsely as he struggled weakly, finally collapsing back into the bedding. Half-lidded, he murmured to Xiao Chiye, “I… I’m a mess… I can’t think of anything.”
Everywhere on Shen Zechuan was flushed red—bitten, pinched, even the back of his neck looked pitiful. Xiao Chiye’s chest pressed against his back, making him burn with heat and sweat.
The most intense part of the night had been when he was seated in Xiao Chiye’s arms, his legs held at the knees, forced to lean entirely against Xiao Chiye’s chest.
Shen Zechuan had been jostled so thoroughly that he forgot even the idea of restraint, mixing up “A’Ye” and “Ce’an” as he called out, until he himself came undone. Later, he lay collapsed on the pillow, soaking the bedding beneath him more than once, losing track of how many times it happened. He only remembered that his tears had long since run dry. By the end, he was drifting in and out of consciousness, yet Xiao Chiye still would not stop, thrusting until Shen Zechuan let out soft, pleading sounds of “mm—” the trailing note tugging at Xiao Chiye’s heart and making him bite him again.
“Poor thing,” Xiao Chiye murmured against him, “I’ll hold you steady.”
Yin Chang had risen early that day, waiting under the corridor to meet the Prefect. Fei Sheng watched the old man shifting his gaze back and forth, clearly uncomfortable, and said, “You already met him yesterday. Why are you still so nervous today?”
Yin Chang tugged at his sleeve and said, “I don’t feel right anywhere. Yesterday they bathed me and scrubbed me with such a large soapstone, they nearly rubbed my skin raw!”
Fei Sheng found it amusing. Yesterday they had assigned seven or eight servants to serve Yin Chang, bathing him for a full two hours, changing several tubs of hot water. By midnight, after everyone had already dispersed from the banquet, the old man had finally escaped, lifting his trousers and running away from the servants.
“A bath is a good thing,” Fei Sheng said. “You look full of energy. Today you even seem like my brother.”
“Don’t talk nonsense to me,” Yin Chang muttered, still half-unrested. Then he glanced around furtively. “Is the Second Master in the room?”
“Mm,” Fei Sheng replied. “Second Master specifically rushed back just to see you.”
“Then can I go to Lianbei?” Yin Chang asked quickly. “I want to see General Lu.”
Fei Sheng hesitated, unsure how to respond. Yin Chang wanting to see Lu Guangbai was expected—his formations were largely based on frontier garrison forces—but Lianbei was currently at war, and the Tea Stone River border was unstable. There was no way he could let the old man wander there.
Just then, movement came from ahead.
“Let’s see the Prefect first,” Fei Sheng said. “We’ll talk after that.”
The window in the room had been opened for ventilation. It was not particularly cold today, but Shen Zechuan was sensitive to cold and wore an outer cloak. Fei Sheng had already investigated Huo Lingyun thoroughly on his return journey, every detail reported back. Shen Zechuan had not had time to read it the night before, so he was reviewing it carefully now.
“The firearms Fei Sheng seized were indeed supplied by Huo Lingyun,” Shen Zechuan said, turning a folding fan between his fingers. “This man is interesting. He should be met.”
Xiao Chiye sat across a small table from Shen Zechuan, leaning on his arm with a casual air, though his gaze was sharp and dangerous. His eyes lingered on the words “male favorite,” “savage attack,” and “arson.”
“A tough one,” he said.
Without Huo Lingyun interfering with firearms, Yin Chang could have taken Fangzhou City in the first battle. Shen Zechuan would never have had to say “bring me his head.” Yin Chang later used provocation to push the siege forward and did fight on the battlefield, but because of Huo Lingyun’s arson, the Fangzhou battle became muddied. Merit and fault canceled each other out, and Yin Chang’s reward was halved again.
Perhaps Huo Lingyun truly intended to submit to Shen Zechuan, but he chose the wrong method. By using firearms to fight a battle, he was essentially telling Shen Zechuan that he was useful—more useful than the current generals of Cizhou.
While they were speaking, Yao Wenyu entered first, followed by Kong Ling pushing a cart, then Yu Xiaozai. The scholars bowed, and Shen Zechuan motioned for them to sit.
“It’s so cold,” Shen Zechuan said to Yao Wenyu. “Call Qiao Tianya over to greet me, and I’ll move the meeting to your courtyard so you won’t have to run back and forth.”
Yao Wenyu had not slept well the night before; his eyes were slightly bloodshot, and he even brought a cat today. He said, “It’s only a few steps. There’s no need to trouble yourself, Prefect. I see Yin Lao and Fei Sheng are still waiting under the corridor. Will you receive them now?”
“Let them in,” Shen Zechuan said. “They’ve been waiting nearly half an hour.”
Fei Sheng led Yin Chang inside. They first bowed to Shen Zechuan and Xiao Chiye.
Xiao Chiye looked at Yin Chang and asked, “Elder Yin, did you sleep well last night?”
This was Yin Chang’s first time seeing Xiao Chiye clearly. Yesterday he had not gotten a good look, but now, upon focusing, he thought inwardly: Good heavens—this Second Master is enormous. Sitting there, his legs look like they could easily reach two of mine.
Yin Chang became nervous again, rubbing his sleeves as he stammered, “F-fairly well…”
“Elder Yin, please sit,” Shen Zechuan said gently. He knew Xiao Chiye had an intimidating presence, so he spoke to Yin Chang in a softer tone. “Today we’ll just discuss military affairs with the scholars. We’re about to launch an operation toward Duanzhou; Fangzhou cannot be left in chaos like this any longer.”
From the reports, this battle at Fangzhou was inseparable from Huo Lingyun. Kong Ling, familiar with Lianzhou, spoke first: “He does have a military family background. His father was Huo Qing, commander of the Lianzhou garrison. In the sixth year of Xiande, he once repelled bandits crossing the border, and it was likely then he formed enmity with Yan Qiu and other Lianzhou bandits.”
“I remember Huo Qing,” Yu Xiaozai added after sitting down. “During the bandit suppression in the sixth year of Xiande, he submitted a memorial to the Ministry of War. It was recorded as a victory report, but in the following years, the Lianzhou prefecture accused him of being arrogant and reckless in deploying troops, causing bandits to retaliate against civilians and plunging Lianzhou into chaos. After repeated deliberation, the Ministry ultimately abandoned plans to promote him.”
Shen Zechuan motioned for Fei Sheng to stand and said to the scholars, “Local affairs are always messy. Ever since the Pan and Hua factions controlled the court, most accusations were driven by personal grudges. The cases from the Xiande years cannot be taken at face value.”
This was true. Apart from Shen Zechuan’s personal dislike of Emperor Xiande, factional struggles during that time were indeed like fire and ice—mutually hostile. In Dudu, everything was decided by allegiance; in the local regions, boundaries were even sharper. Whether Huo Qing’s accusations were true could not be concluded from a few memorials alone.
“Huo Qing is Huo Qing, and Huo Lingyun is Huo Lingyun,” Xiao Chiye said, now clearly separating father and son in his mind. “You escorted him back. How did he behave on the way?”
Yin Chang was honest to a fault, but Fei Sheng did not let him speak. He could tell from Xiao Chiye’s tone that the Second Master did not like Huo Lingyun—and neither did he.
Fei Sheng followed Shen Zechuan; he still had many chances to earn merit in the future. But Yin Chang might not. The old man was already white-haired, finally given a chance at battle after years of waiting—only for some so-called “male favorite” to appear out of nowhere and steal most of his credit with underhanded tricks.
Fei Sheng felt displeased, though his expression remained calm. “This man endured humiliation and infiltrated Prince Yi’s side for revenge. He’s no ordinary figure—I respect him as a man of courage. But when I arrived at Fangzhou’s government office, I saw the mastiff raised by Prince Yi, its coat glossy. Only after asking did I learn Huo Lingyun had fed Prince Yi and Cuiqing to the dogs. If he had such deep hatred, why didn’t he report it to us earlier?”
Shen Zechuan did not immediately follow Fei Sheng’s lead. After a pause, he said, “Since everyone is here, bring him in.”
Huo Lingyun had been in prison for two days. Even the jailers who delivered food did not speak to him. Fei Sheng had taken special care of him, even modifying his shackles to be heavier than usual, yet Huo Lingyun rarely moved.
As he entered the courtyard, Gu Jin immediately sensed something unusual. He stood with Ding Tao and Li Xiong under the eaves, watching him approach.
“So heavy,” Li Xiong pointed at Huo Lingyun’s feet. “He’s wearing the same set as me!”
“I think he moves fine,” Ding Tao said, complaining to Gu Jin. “Brother Jin, he’s trained!”
Not just trained.
Gu Jin raised a finger, signaling the hidden guards in the courtyard to stay alert. He patted Ding Tao and Li Xiong on the back, pushing the two children aside, and moved to stand by the curtain, exchanging a glance with Qiao Tianya on the other side.
Qiao Tianya tilted his head, staring at Huo Lingyun’s back, and said in a low voice, “This man is dangerous.”
Shen Zechuan did not study Huo Lingyun, but Huo Lingyun studied Shen Zechuan first.
The Prefect was only twenty-two this year, strikingly beautiful, his eyes slightly upturned at just the right angle. At a glance, he looked like a soft wave of water—but he was cold, and utterly emotionless. Once he truly looked at someone, it was like a blade of winter wind, deep and unfathomable, chilling to the bone.
This was Shen Zechuan.
Xiao Chiye’s thumb brushed his bone ring. He did not change posture, but his presence suddenly pressed down like a weight on Huo Lingyun’s face, forcing him almost to bow his head.
Shen Zechuan was a jade bead held between Xiao Chiye’s fangs—anyone who dared to look too closely would die.
The scholars in the room could not fully understand the tension, but they could feel that the Second Master was displeased. The atmosphere grew heavy, pressing on their chests until they could barely breathe.
“You’ve given incomplete testimony,” Shen Zechuan said at last, finally looking at Huo Lingyun. “You submitted the firearms, but did not explain their origin. Half-truths are the most boring kind of speech.”
Huo Lingyun walked through both water and fire routes, and from Xiao Chiye’s gaze, he understood something. He withdrew his eyes; the chains on his wrists clattered as he spoke calmly.
“Some things can only be discussed once I meet the Prefect.”
“If you say something I dislike,” Shen Zechuan said coldly, “meeting or not will make no difference.”
“Cizhou launches troops in the second month. Apart from border cavalry, Duanzhou also has scorpions,” Huo Lingyun said, looking directly at Xiao Chiye without fear. “Without Xiao Fangxu, can the Lianbei iron cavalry still function?”
Xiao Chiye’s bone ring dug into his finger. He finally moved.
He slowly leaned forward, the shadow from above engulfing Huo Lingyun, stretching across the ground like the silhouette of a wounded wolf.
Fei Sheng dropped to one knee without hesitation, head lowered in silence. Yin Chang, standing nearby, felt a piercing pressure on his back; his heart hammered violently, and the old man nearly collapsed to the ground beside Fei Sheng.
Silence filled the entire room.
Xiao Chiye was angry.