Ji Gang had watched Shen Zechuan grow up. He had never hoped for him to become a marquis or a prime minister—only that he would live safely and smoothly, and one day be surrounded by children and grandchildren. No one else might remember the kick Xiao Chiye delivered in Qudu, but Ji Gang never forgot. This was his only son left.
Now, recalling what Xiao Chiye had said back in Cizhou, it all felt premeditated. This bastard had long planned to lay everything bare. It was laughable—everyone else could see clearly, yet he alone had been deceiving himself, making excuses for the boy again and again. Brotherly affection? All nonsense!
A few punches weren’t enough to vent his anger. Ji Gang grabbed the riding whip at his side and snapped, “I let a wolf into my house—I believed your lies! You were already setting your sights on Chuan’er back in Cizhou!” The more he spoke, the angrier he became. In that moment, he couldn’t recall any of Xiao Chiye’s good qualities—only old grievances. He raised the whip, fury blazing. “I’ll beat you to death!”
“Master, Master!” Fei Sheng couldn’t let him continue. He tried to persuade him, “Second Young Master is willing to take your blows—that means he’s sincere. This has nothing to do with outsiders, it’s within our own household. Sit down and talk it through—Master, the lord is still waiting for you!”
“Get out of the way!” Ji Gang roared. “You’re all a bunch of bastards too!”
The Imperial Guards in the courtyard had all received Ji Gang’s guidance—by rights, they were his disciples. Seeing him like a raging tiger, none dared truly step in. The whip he held was Xiao Chiye’s, heavier than the one in Cizhou. Each strike landed like an explosion, the burning pain surging through instantly.
Ji Gang was truly enraged this time. Unlike before, the loose robe couldn’t shield anything—each lash left bloody marks, drawing sharp breaths from Xiao Chiye.
Seeing Xiao Chiye refuse to admit fault, Ji Gang spat, “I arrange his marriage—what does that have to do with you!”
“No,” Xiao Chiye did not yield in the slightest, not even bothering with a lie. “There are countless good men in the world—but Shen Lanzhou, I won’t give to anyone.”
Ji Gang nearly reeled with anger, pointing at him with the whip. “You want to destroy my son—and cut off the rest of his life! No wife, no children—why don’t you cut yourself off first!”
Relationships between men were no secret in Qudu. Ji Gang had seen plenty back when he served as a commander of the Imperial Guards. They might be inseparable now, glued together, but after a few years, they would still have to marry and have children. Especially Xiao Chiye—he was Xiao Fangxu’s legitimate son. If Xiao Jiming didn’t take the field, Xiao Chiye would inherit that burden. Once he became the head wolf of Libei, whether he married or not would no longer be his own choice—it would concern the entire Libei cavalry.
The Xiao family commanded one hundred and twenty thousand troops. A marriage alliance would stabilize ties between Zhongbo and Libei. Publicly and privately, Ji Gang should agree—but only if Xiao Chiye were a woman. If he were, then even if he were spoiled and willful, as long as Shen Zechuan wanted him, Ji Gang would consent.
“As long as Master agrees, I can have my sister-in-law come to propose the marriage right now. If that won’t work, I can marry into your family myself.” Xiao Chiye had endured worse beatings from Xiao Fangxu—these few lashes meant nothing. Since Ji Gang wanted to settle accounts today, he was determined to make him agree.
Ji Gang staggered back from the retort, and Fei Sheng hurried to steady him. To Ji Gang, Xiao Chiye wasn’t proposing marriage—he was forcing it. He had never seen such a shameless man, so brazenly in the wrong!
Bracing himself on his knees, Xiao Chiye pressed on, “Lanzhou already accepted my sister-in-law’s bracelet—he’s long been mine. How can Master still arrange women for him? If he really meets one, he’d be faithless. If Master wants children, Ding Tao and Li Xiong are still young—keeping them by your side can relieve your boredom. If you’re happy, raise them until they’re twenty-seven or twenty-eight before sending them out—I won’t interfere.”
Ji Gang watched him speak such nonsense with a straight face. Ding Tao and Li Xiong were hardly children—they were already in their late teens. Sending them out for assignments would already be considered late. This was completely absurd!
“Just nod, Master.” Xiao Chiye supported himself and knocked his head to the ground. “If you don’t, I’ll start calling you father.”
Ji Gang’s reputation in the Imperial Guards came from his reasonableness. In this matter, he had thought too much for Shen Zechuan’s sake. If Xiao Chiye tried to reason with him, he would never succeed. Shen Zechuan was tied to Libei’s military provisions—Ji Gang would inevitably worry. If Libei agreed now, was it truly for Shen Zechuan, or for strategy?
He never expected Xiao Chiye to be so shameless, backing him into a corner. If he didn’t agree today, he could hardly leave. Grinding the words out, Ji Gang said, “Don’t try to trick me with your sweet talk. Even if your sister-in-law comes, I won’t see her.”
“But you’d have to see Lanzhou,” Xiao Chiye said without lifting his head. “Father, Lanzhou doesn’t understand these formalities. Without you there to look after him, my sister-in-law might trick him into going back to Libei to be—” He faltered for a split second, then quickly continued, “—a son-in-law! If that’s how you want to help me, I’d be happy too.”
Ji Gang threw the whip to the ground, unable to bear it any longer. “Shut up!” He forced himself to counter, gritting his teeth. “You’re not getting through that door!”
Xiao Chiye’s robe hung loosely, the flush at his neck already faded. Ji Gang barred him, and he didn’t argue. The rain fell harder, bringing a chill under the eaves. Ji Gang’s anger remained, but the sharp edge of it had dulled.
Xiao Chiye’s expression turned serious. “Everything Master worries about, I’ve already considered. My brother and sister-in-law are close—they have Xun’er now, and will have more children. Libei doesn’t need me to produce heirs, and I have no such intention. You watched Lanzhou grow up and hope for his happiness—I know, and so do I. I love him, respect him, and want to grow old with him. Isn’t that happiness too? If Master doesn’t trust me and fears Lanzhou will suffer, and wants to find him a wife—I can’t stop you. But I’ve already given him my life. If he chooses someone else, it would be the same as killing me.”
Xiao Chiye was no ordinary man. He had both courage and ability. Now, the two of them were perfectly matched, but what about after the wars ended? If Xiao Chiye ever changed his heart, he would have countless ways to end this relationship. What Ji Gang feared most was Shen Zechuan being left alone after he himself was gone. To others, Shen Zechuan was “Lord,” but to Ji Gang, he was still Chuan’er—the child he had to worry about.
Ji Gang did not dare gamble. He could not trust Xiao Chiye.
After a long silence without reply, Xiao Chiye heard the sound of wooden clogs approaching behind him. Turning slightly, he saw Shen Zechuan, fully dressed, holding a fan, stealing a glance at him.
“No,” Ji Gang said, as if answering Xiao Chiye, but his eyes were on Shen Zechuan. His aged face was lined with hardship, resolute. “This will not do.”
In the neighboring courtyard, Yao Wenyu was lighting incense. Holding the stick between his fingers, the smell was so strong that Hu Nu refused to come near. Once the rain stopped, there would be mosquitoes, but even Yao Wenyu found the scent unpleasant. As he examined the smoke, it was suddenly snatched away.
Qiao Tianya brought the incense to his nose, frowned, and said, “That’s way too strong. Who sent this? Return it and let them use it themselves.”
“A merchant,” Yao Wenyu turned his wheelchair toward the courtyard. “Rulai incense from Liuzhou—expensive in Juexi.”
Qiao Tianya pinched it out. “Smells like stinky tofu.”
“People from Liuzhou like stinky tofu,” Yao Wenyu waved the scent away. “Later, remind Fei Sheng not to light this in the lord’s room.”
Qiao Tianya felt he was being avoided and stepped forward, blocking the wheelchair. “You don’t even see him that often—how are you already so familiar?”
“We all serve the lord,” Yao Wenyu paused, then turned to look at him. “There’s no one we’re not familiar with.”
Qiao Tianya had been in good spirits, but under Yao Wenyu’s gaze, his smile faded. Before, Yao Wenyu would avoid eye contact, embarrassed, as if remembering the awkwardness of that night. But now he was calm and open, like uncut jade, untouched by anything.
There’s no one we’re not familiar with.
To him, Qiao Tianya was no different from Fei Sheng, no different from Kong Ling, no different from anyone else. He was no longer something secret and special. Yao Wenyu flicked his sleeve and returned to being that distant immortal.
“The rain is heavy today. If you’re not in a hurry, eat before you go out. Chengfeng and Youjing will come this afternoon—the matters of the Brocade Cavalry should be reported. Decide if you want to speak with them before you leave.” Yao Wenyu glanced at the wheel, then at Qiao Tianya. “You’re blocking it.”
His faint smile carried a trace of helplessness—or perhaps self-mockery.
“Even a cripple can go around, but I can’t. Don’t tease me.”
Wind rattled the iron chimes, and raindrops splashed onto the thin blanket. Qiao Tianya moved his foot aside. Usually so composed, he now looked a little awkward under Yao Wenyu’s gaze.
Yao Wenyu turned the wheelchair and went inside, the wheels tapping rhythmically against the floor. As he moved, his wrist was briefly revealed—the red cord Qiao Tianya had given him still tied there, before disappearing again beneath his sleeve.
Ji Gang lay with one arm under his head, facing the wall, as if asleep.
Shen Zechuan set his folding fan by the bed and asked, “Master, are you asleep?”
Ji Gang, eyes open, replied, “If you know I’m asleep, why ask?”
Like when he was young, Shen Zechuan pulled a chair closer and said, “Since I left the Temple of Atonement, I haven’t stayed up through the night talking with you.”
“And now you come for a man,” Ji Gang paused. The anger he couldn’t direct at Shen Zechuan dissipated into a different kind of pain. “What’s so good about him? Neither your teacher nor I approve.”
“Teacher praised him,” Shen Zechuan said softly. “A heaven-sent genius—that’s what you told me.”
“Can a genius make a family?” Ji Gang sat up, looking at him. “A genius seeks the world. Will you be willing to sit beside him on the same throne one day?”
Shen Zechuan lowered his eyes, obedient in appearance. “That’s not for me to decide.”
Ji Gang sighed in the candlelight. After a long while, he said bitterly, “Back then, the Grand Tutor asked you how you would conduct yourself if you held the Imperial Guards. I should have realized—this is not something one asks a student. Who in this world can command the Imperial Guards? The Grand Tutor hid it from everyone—he taught you too much. You’ve learned so well—don’t you understand? Today’s perfect pair will become tomorrow’s two tigers fighting.”
Xiao Chiye was not lacking—he was too exceptional, and that made Ji Gang uneasy.
“If I were more capable,” Ji Gang’s gaze was complicated as he looked at Shen Zechuan, “if you still had brothers alive, then gambling on this might be fine. But I am old and useless. When I am gone, you will face this world alone. Only you. How can I ever be at ease?”