The medicinal decoction soaked through Shen Zhechuan’s robe, dripping down the corners of his mouth. The physician wiped his forehead and temples again and again, sweat soaking his hair.
“The medicine won’t go down,” he said. “He—he’s not going to make it!”
Ge Qingqing stood by, gripping her sword, studying Shen Zhechuan for a long moment. “There’s nothing that can be done?” she asked.
The doctor trembled as he held the medicine bowl, the spoon clanging against the sides. He kowtowed deeply toward Ge Qingqing. “It’s over! It’s over! Sir, prepare the straw mat at once!”
Ge Qingqing’s face darkened. She said, “Keep trying,” and then turned and left the room. Outside, Ji Lei was waiting. She greeted him, saying, “Sir, the physician says he’s not going to make it.”
Ji Lei crushed a peanut shell in his hand, blew away the dust, and asked, “Has he breathed his last?”
“Still clinging to the last breath,” Ge Qingqing replied.
Ji Lei turned away, hands behind his back, and looked at her. “Watch him. Before he dies, make sure he seals the confession.”
Ge Qingqing nodded and watched as Ji Lei departed. She lingered a moment in the courtyard, then spoke to her subordinates. “Go fetch the laborer.”
Before long, a hunched figure wrapped in coarse, rough cloth pushed a cart up. The night was dark, and the royal prison was heavily guarded. Ge Qingqing lit a lantern and led the laborer inside.
The physician had left, leaving only a single oil lamp burning. Shen Zhechuan lay on the bed, his face pale, his hands and feet cold as a corpse.
Ge Qingqing stepped aside. “Ji Shu… he’s here,” she said to the laborer.
The laborer slowly removed the coarse cloth, revealing a face scarred by fire. He stepped forward, trembling, and ran his hands through Shen Zhechuan’s hair. Seeing Shen Zhechuan emaciated, with bloodstains everywhere, tears streamed down his face.
“Zhechuan,” Ji Gang’s hoarse voice called. “Your master is here!”
Ge Qingqing blew out the lantern. “Don’t be afraid, Ji Shu. Ever since we knew he was your disciple, the prison has taken care not to harm him. The previous interrogations were severe, but they spared his life. Even the twenty lashes of the court staff were tempered. If it weren’t for Miss Hua arriving in time, even Pan Gonggong would have suspected something.”
Ji Gang’s hair had already turned half white. He lowered his head, tears falling, his face lined with age. “I, Ji Gang, will repay this debt!”
Ge Qingqing hurriedly said, “Ji Shu! You mustn’t think like that. We only act out of gratitude for your past guidance and saving our lives.” He sighed. “Who could have anticipated an unexpected hand intervening? That kick from Second Young Master Xiao… it was truly a near-death blow. Ji Shu, is there still hope?”
Ji Gang checked Shen Zhechuan’s pulse, forcing a smile. “Good child… the methods A-mu taught him, he has done well. It is not yet beyond hope. Your master is here—do not fear, my son!”
Shen Zhechuan had trained under Ji Gang since he was seven, practicing martial arts alongside Ji Mu. The Ji family’s boxing style demanded both force and the mental techniques passed down only to those with unyielding determination. Ji Gang, once a heavy drinker, taught the older siblings and sometimes neglected the younger. Over the years, however, Shen Zhechuan had become proficient.
Ge Qingqing leaned closer. “But he is still young. Enduring such a trial, his body may fail. Ji Shu, I reboiled the medicine the doctor prescribed; perhaps you can help him take it.”
Shen Zhechuan’s lips were dry and parched. His whole body ached as if he were lying on the main avenue of Qudu, crushed under the wheels of passing carts.
Pain blazed through him like endless fire, consuming his body. In the darkness, he dreamed of drifting snow, Ji Mu’s blood, the cold of the pit, and the foot that Xiao Chiyue had delivered.
Ji Lei was right: surviving now was a form of punishment. He bore the blood of Shen Wei, shouldering the sins of wronged souls. Shackled and fettered, his path forward would be heavy.
Yet he refused to surrender!
Suddenly, someone pried open his clenched teeth, forcing the bitter liquid down his throat. Tears mingled with the medicine, dripping from the corners of his eyes. He heard a familiar voice, forcing his eyes open.
Ji Gang fed him the medicine, wiping his tears with rough fingers. “Zhechuan, it’s your master!”
Shen Zhechuan choked, the medicine burning as he tried to hold onto reality. His fingers clutched Ji Gang’s robe, biting his teeth, fearing it was all a fevered dream.
Ji Gang, his face scarred and unrefined, tilted his head slightly away from the lamp. “Do not seek death, Zhechuan! While your master survives, you are all that remains.”
Shen Zhechuan’s tears flowed freely. He turned his gaze to the black ceiling, whispering, “Master…”
Amid the howling wind, his eyes hardened, and a new determination arose.
“I will not die,” he said hoarsely. “Master, I will not die.”
The next day, Emperor Xiande rewarded the army. Outside the city, the Libei Cavalry and the Qidong garrison were honored, while the court also held a banquet for the military leaders.
Xiao Chiyue changed into his court robes. As he sat, the fierce embroidery of lions and clouds seemed to exude an intense energy. Yet when he spoke, his demeanor was reckless and flirtatious.
The surrounding civil officials watched in quiet judgment. Many knew the saying: the tiger begets a tiger, yet only Xiao Chiyue seemed to have truly inherited it. They scrutinized his every move, contrasting him with the composed and refined Xiao Jiming.
“Do not stay uninvolved,” Lu Guangbai reminded him from beside the table. “The Emperor will surely summon you, having already rewarded you.”
Xiao Chiyue rubbed a walnut in his palm, looking weary.
“Went out drinking last night?” Lu Guangbai asked.
“Life’s for enjoyment,” Xiao Chiyue said lazily. “If someone dares dance their sword, I’ll take advantage of the mood and be the hero before the Emperor. A perfect solution, isn’t it?”
“That works,” Lu Guangbai said, pouring wine. “But drinking weakens the body. If you want to be a competent commander, change that habit.”
“Born in the wrong age,” Xiao Chiyue said, tossing a walnut. “The positions of the four great generals are all taken; it’s not my turn to play hero. If one day you falter, give me a heads-up. I can quit then.”
“You may have to wait a long time,” Lu Guangbai replied.
The two laughed for a while. Halfway through the meal, the discussion turned to the Shen family of Zhongbo.
Lu Guangbai held the walnut, listening closely. “Wasn’t he supposed to be dead last night?”
Chao Hui whispered behind, “Wasn’t he the one you tried to kick into the afterlife?”
Xiao Chiyue denied it. The others watched him silently for a moment. “Did I say that?” he asked. “Why are you asking?”
Lu Guangbai said, “He’s still alive.”
Chao Hui repeated, “Still alive.”
Xiao Chiyue and the two exchanged a look. “If his life is strong, that’s not my concern. The King of Death isn’t my father.”
Lu Guangbai looked up. “Let’s see what the Emperor decides—truly a life strong enough to survive.”
Chao Hui, kneeling, bowed his head to eat, muttering, “Someone must have secretly helped him.”
“Even if alive, he’s crippled,” Xiao Chiyue glanced at the Hua family’s seat. “The Empress Dowager is old. Now she must labor to nurture a pitiful dog of a child.”
“Sinful,” Chao Hui said matter-of-factly, chewing on a rib.
After three rounds of wine, Emperor Xiande, seeing the mood was suitable, spoke. “Jiming.”
Xiao Jiming saluted and listened.
“Shen Wei’s army was defeated. Whether there was treason is still unproven. As for Shen—”
Pan Ruguai whispered, “Your Majesty, Shen Zhechuan.”
The Emperor paused, saying nothing further, instead turning to the Empress Dowager. “What do you think, Mother?”
The hall fell silent. Every official bowed in obedience.
The Empress Dowager, adorned in black silk and gold, pearls and jewels, sat high above, regal and imposing. She said, “In Zhongbo, morale collapsed due to Shen Wei’s failure. Yet he has now perished, leaving only this one illegitimate son. To kill him violates benevolence. Leaving him alive, teaching gratitude, is not without merit.”
The hall was quiet. Lu Guangbai suddenly stood. “I respectfully disagree.” He stepped forward, kneeling. “The Empress Dowager is benevolent, yet Zhongbo is not ordinary. Shen Wei may not have committed treason, but suspicion exists. This child is all that remains of the clan’s remnants. Leaving him alive risks future troubles.”
The Empress Dowager considered him, saying, “Even the Border Lord has not won every battle in decades.”
Lu Guangbai countered, “Though not invincible, no enemy has ever breached our border in decades.”
The Empress Dowager’s pearl earrings swayed. “Precisely why he should be taught propriety and virtue, to understand the consequences of war. Killing is simple; tens of thousands have already perished under the enemy’s cavalry. The boy is innocent.”
“I also think it is unwise,” Lu Guangbai pressed.
Finally, the cabinet’s second-in-command, Hai Liangyi, rose and knelt.
“The Empress Dowager is kind-hearted, yet this matter is grave. Even if Shen Wei did not commit treason, his son has undergone three interrogations, his statements contradictory. He insists Shen Wei did not betray us. As an illegitimate child raised elsewhere, he could not know Shen Wei’s actions. This proves his cunning and untrustworthiness. As Lu Guangbai said, leaving the remnant of the Shen clan alive risks future trouble.”
The Empress Dowager was not angry. “Hai Ge, rise.”
Once Hai Liangyi was helped up by Pan Ruguai, she spoke again. “All your words are well reasoned. Perhaps my initial thoughts were biased. The matter rests with the Emperor.”
All eyes on him, Emperor Xiande coughed violently, taking the handkerchief Pan Ruguai offered. After a long pause, he spoke:
“Mother speaks truly. The child is innocent. But Shen Wei lost the battle and abandoned the city. Since only this line remains of his nine clans, we shall give him the chance to reflect on his sins. Ji Lei.”
“Your servant attends.”
“Place the boy under strict guard in Zhaozui Temple. No one is to let him out without orders.”
Xiao Chiyue tossed the broken walnut into the dish.
Chao Hui asked, “Sir, won’t you eat it?”
Xiao Chiyue said, “Crippled and useless—who wants it?”
Chao Hui’s eyes followed the walnut. “So in the end, everyone is dissatisfied; neither we nor they get what we want.”
“Better to restrain him than release him,” Lu Guangbai said.
“Not necessarily,” Xiao Chiyue said, pointing at himself. “Am I not restrained too?”
Lu Guangbai and Chao Hui spoke together: “Quite fitting.”