The hall was warmed by a charcoal fire, the room cozy and hot.
Chen Yang had been kneeling for nearly half an hour. Xiao Chiye sat at the main seat studying military texts, while outside the curtain, the senior and junior officers of the Forbidden Army remained kneeling. Inside and out, the place was utterly silent.
As the saying goes, “Before military authority is exercised, first reinforce it with a display of power.” Five years ago, when Xiao Chiye took command of the Forbidden Army, he had immediately established a show of force, asserting absolute authority over all. Over these five years, he had been fair with rewards and punishments, never withholding a single coin due to the army—and in fact, he had supplemented many funds from his own resources. Generous to his subordinates, he still wore the same cloak his elder brother’s wife had sent him three years prior.
The autumn hunt had given the Forbidden Army a surge of pride, their glory eclipsing that of the Eight Camps. Soldiers who had once kowtowed before the Eight Camps now dared to bark orders at them.
This was not a good sign; pride led to carelessness.
Xiao Chiye needed an opportunity to keep the army in line—and Dan Taihu provided just that.
Chen Yang dared not lift his head. When Xiao Chiye tapped the table, he immediately rose to refill the tea, then knelt again once the cup was full.
Xiao Chiye had said nothing the entire night; Chen Yang remained kneeling all night.
Often, unsaid words weigh heavier than spoken ones, leaving a deeper sense of guilt.
The next day, as Xiao Chiye prepared for the early court session, he told Chen Yang, “You need not follow today. Rest.”
Chen Yang’s legs were numb from kneeling, his body bowed to the ground. In a hoarse voice he said, “Master…”
He had always addressed Xiao Chiye as Governor, but this utterance was truly heartfelt.
Xiao Chiye paused but did not turn.
Chen Yang kowtowed again. “I beg for your punishment, Master.”
Xiao Chiye raised a hand, signaling the attendants to leave. Once alone, he turned to Chen Yang: “If one has no fault, what punishment is there?”
“I know my fault,” Chen Yang admitted, sweat from his forehead running into his eyes.
Xiao Chiye remained silent for a long moment. Then he said, “These past years, Chaohui has fought on the frontier with my elder brother, climbing the military ranks. In five years, he may even be granted a fief. You are all sons handpicked by your father—why should Chaohui attain such honor while you still follow a nobody, waiting to die?”
Chen Yang’s lips whitened. “I would never think so. The heir has his merits, but you, Master, are my pillar of strength. Chaohui and I are cousins; glory shared, loss shared.”
“Good, you understand,” Xiao Chiye said. “Sibling rivalry, quarrels at home—these are rotten to the core. No outsider need intervene; one dies first. You stay here in Qu Dou with me; your household is under Chaohui’s care. His sister married a junior officer in the Ministry of Rites, and you maintain her natal family during festivals. To achieve honor, one must compete in spirit but yield in principle; true courage comes from loyalty and valor. Why fear or rush compared to him? Yesterday’s matter, Chaohui could not act—he had to consider his elder brother’s face. You, as the head of the Forbidden Army’s guard, rely on this alone to command respect. For a moment’s satisfaction, even your master’s authority is trampled. Dan Taihu hails from Zhongbo, yet you returned him to duty yesterday to let him vent. What, Chen Yang, have you become so cynical to subdue hearts this way? Sacrifice your master’s prestige for a fleeting thrill?”
Chen Yang’s remorse deepened; he lowered his head. “I have failed you, Master—”
“You have failed yourself,” Xiao Chiye said coldly. “Think it through before your next watch. For the next few days, let Gu Jin follow me.”
Chen Yang remained kneeling, staring as Xiao Chiye lifted the curtain and stepped out.
Shen Zechuan finally slept the night through and now stood beside the carriage, warming his hands over the rising steam, watching the sea eagle circle above.
Xiao Chiye stepped into the carriage, Gu Jin took the reins, and Shen Zechuan looked on.
Shen Zechuan did not look at him; the half-open curtain carried Xiao Chiye’s playful glance.
Shen Zechuan felt a prickling sensation along his spine. The Forbidden Army, frozen outside all night, were watching him. He smiled faintly at Xiao Chiye and climbed up.
Gu Jin drove the carriage, and it jolted into motion.
Xiao Chiye handed Shen Zechuan a hot soup bowl; as he took it, Xiao Chiye pressed the back of his hand against Shen Zechuan’s.
“So cold,” Xiao Chiye said.
Shen Zechuan pushed his hand aside, leaning against the carriage wall, holding the bowl.
“You don’t look pleased,” Xiao Chiye remarked.
Shen Zechuan warmed his hands. “I am pleased.” He looked at Xiao Chiye and smiled. “Second Master stood up for me; I am pleased.”
“No one did for you,” Xiao Chiye said.
“True enough,” Shen Zechuan replied, “but now that your authority is established, when will you show favor? My days as guard are numbered; if you intend to use me, act quickly.”
Xiao Chiye remained silent.
Shen Zechuan lifted his chin slightly, a posture of casual ease, exhaling. After a pause, he said, “In matters of charm and manipulation, I am no match for you. Shen Lanzhou is a convenient target—both protection and a deterrent, perhaps even to warm the bed. Three gains at once are hard to find. Second Master, you are remarkable.”
Outside, the streets were noisy; inside, tension thickened. They were only inches apart, yet it felt like a chasm. When the carriage stopped, Gu Jin wisely remained silent.
Shen Zechuan, hands warmed, placed the bowl carefully on the small table. “What a pity.”
“What?” Xiao Chiye asked.
“Everyone assumes you indulge nightly,” Shen Zechuan said softly, licking his lips. “Who knew you, Second Master, are as virtuous as Liu Xiang—no contact, not even a kiss.”
He reached to lift the curtain and step down—but Xiao Chiye suddenly hooked his belt.
“Right,” Xiao Chiye teased. “If you long for nightly contests, I shall indulge you.”
Shen Zechuan said, “With eyes that fierce, I refuse all.”
The curtain swayed; he had already descended.
Xiao Chiye’s fingers hovered empty, yet the gesture lingered with unspent delight.
After the Dan Taihu incident, the Forbidden Army lost their arrogance, tucking tails and returning to pre-autumn hunt restraint. Chen Yang became meticulous, no longer feigning ignorance or allowing disorder. Previously, he had injured his foot in the north; now, enduring Qu Dou’s bitter cold, his injury throbbed during daily duty.
One evening after supper, Xiao Chiye tossed several ointment bottles to Chen Yang. Opening them, he found the precious remedies previously obtained by Xiao Jiming from Master Guiyi. Ashamed, he applied them diligently, taking care with every task.
Meanwhile, Dan Taihu returned home and soon fell into hardship. His household deceased, he adopted three children from Zhongbo, relying on his salary. Unmarried and without a wife to manage things, his monthly coins barely sufficed. Now, with the New Year approaching, food was scarce. A veteran from Dengzhou, he had always cared for others in Qu Dou; now it was his turn. Too proud to borrow, he tightened his belt for the children, but this was no long-term solution.
Dan Taihu considered taking tiger-hide money, collecting debts—but before he could act, Chen Yang arrived.
“The New Year approaches,” Chen Yang said, placing silver down. “The Governor remembers your three children.”
Dan Taihu turned his face away, sitting down. “I no longer serve in the army; there is no reason to take the army’s funds.”
“You are truly a tiger,” Chen Yang said earnestly. “Why sulk with the Governor? That day, so many watched, you acted—did you think the Governor irrelevant? Discipline is paramount. You’ve served long enough, do you not understand?”
Dan Taihu said, “What could I do? Seeing that Shen Ba reminded me of my parents!”
Chen Yang sighed. “Yet you should not have humiliated him, dragging in the Governor as well. After following the Governor for years, how could you speak without restraint?”
Dan Taihu ran his hands through his hair.
Chen Yang continued, “I also erred, knowing you were reckless but failing to stop you. Admit your fault; accept the penalty. A true man can bend and yield. Only abandoning duty makes one a hero?”
“I had no choice—I surrendered my badge!” Dan Taihu said, his voice a mix of grievance and sorrow. “I’ve followed the Governor for five years, risked life during the autumn hunt, seen the army finally rise, and yet that fox beauty comes in and out daily. I feared for the Governor’s future! I was anxious, I hated him! Ding Tao said he was blameless—true, who doesn’t know that? But who could bear it? I died for parents and brothers, not some dog by the road!”
Chen Yang remained silent.
Dan Taihu stomped hard, roughly wiping his face. Even recalling his scarred past, tears threatened. He choked out, “Despising someone, seeing them close by, it burns in your heart. That year Zhongbo fell, Chen Yang, survivors were all ruined, barely alive! Who pities us? Look at my three children—almost illiterate, now orphans, scraped from under Biansha cavalry hooves. Our lives are worthless.”
Chen Yang patted him, waiting for calm. “But now you’ve joined the Forbidden Army; the Governor is as high as heaven. Tiger, do you remember five years ago, when the Governor purged the army, seeking to collect you outsiders? The Ministry of War opposed it. Do you recall what the Governor said?”
Dan Taihu’s shoulders trembled.
Chen Yang said, “You stay in the army today because the Governor said: ‘Family revenge is unavenged, national humiliation remains.’ One day, the Forbidden Army will ride beyond the borders, striking the enemy—doesn’t that deliver more satisfaction than scolding others today? Time passes, yet this truth is never forgotten, yes?”
Dan Taihu said, “I dare not forget; not a day has passed without it. I give my life to the Governor for that day.”
“Then it is done.” Chen Yang rose, pushing the silver toward Dan Taihu. “Brothers bear no overnight grudges. The Governor treats us as brothers; this silver comes from him. After the New Year, return to your unit, hoist your small flag and badge, and serve well.”
Dan Taihu’s heart swelled. He escorted Chen Yang out the door.
Upon returning, Chen Yang saw Shen Zechuan. The two saluted in the corridor. Lifting the curtain, Chen Yang entered, and Shen Zechuan understood: the matter was settled.
Bored, Shen Zechuan watched the falling snow.
Such a wolf and tiger—true or false, they could imitate one another; false could act real. No one could distinguish whether their expressions held joy or anger, sincerity or pretense.
Soon Chen Yang returned, lifted the curtain, and nodded at Shen Zechuan. “The Governor awaits you inside for the meal.”
Shen Zechuan turned and saw Xiao Chiye watching him.