As Zhao Langzhi walked into the courtyard of Dai Wenliang’s residence, Dai Wenliang was craning his neck to watch the dozen or so pigeons he kept.
Back then, just a few days after Shu Changyu had left, Mrs. Li—having learned from somewhere that he had taken two pigeons home—simply gave him all of Shu Changche’s dozen or so pigeons. Dai Wenliang had originally wanted the pigeons just for their meat, but after raising them for a while, he developed a fondness for them and never killed any of them; he kept them all.
That day, the sky was as clear as a wash, and the flock of gray and white pigeons circled overhead in the courtyard, a truly beautiful sight. Dai Wenliang sat there with one leg crossed, holding a small teapot in one hand as he watched the pigeons; for a moment, he didn’t even notice Zhao Langzhi.
Zhao Langzhi didn’t approach either; he simply stood there, watching Dai Wenliang.
When he first met Dai Wenliang, the weather had been just as clear and cloudless. Knowing that Shu Changyu’s friend was a bit simple-minded, he had intended to use him as a way to get close to Shu Changyu.
Back then, Dai Wenliang had also tilted his head back like this, staring at the pigeons in the sky, and ordered the Shu family’s servants to catch two for him to enjoy with his wine.
Before he knew it, he had been serving as Dai Wenliang’s secretary for three years.
At first, he had simply thought the man was foolish, but over time he came to see him as innocent, pure, and carefree. It was as if he were seeing the real sun for the very first time in two lifetimes—he found it unbearably glaring, yet couldn’t help but be drawn toward the light.
Dai Wenliang craned his neck and stared for quite a while; the longer he looked, the more he felt that the dozen or so treasures he kept were both beautiful and robust.
By the time he lowered his head, his neck had already begun to ache. Just as he was about to raise his hand to rub the back of his neck, a hand landed there, massaging it with just the right amount of pressure.
Dai Wenliang looked up and saw Zhao Langzhi standing behind him.
Dai Wenliang was quite thick-skinned and didn’t sense anything amiss about Zhao Langzhi’s hand at all. Upon seeing Zhao Langzhi, he broke into a smile and leaped down from the stone platform.
As he lifted an old pigeon out of its cage and set it on the ground—luring the dozen or so pigeons to land—he greeted Zhao Langzhi with a smile.
“You’ve come to Guangting?” He picked up a pigeon from the ground, smoothed its glossy, sleek feathers, and tucked it back into the cage.
“Yes, I had nothing to do today, so I came by for a stroll,” Zhao Langzhi said with a smile, standing to one side.
“You have only a few days left before your exams. Why aren’t you at home studying more?” Dai Wenliang asked. “Back when Jingchen was preparing for the imperial exams, he shut himself away for three months straight—he wouldn’t even see anyone when I went to look for him.”
Zhao Langzhi gave an ambiguous smile and said, “How could I dare compare myself to Shu Sanlang?”
Zhao Langzhi closed the door of the pigeon cage, leaned in to look through the bars, and laughed as he said: “Why not? Who knows—maybe after this year, I’ll have two friends who’ve won the top prize in the imperial examinations?” At that thought, Dai Wenliang chuckled. “That would be quite the honor!”
Zhao Langzhi furrowed his brow, feeling an inexplicable reluctance to have Dai Wenliang compare him to Shu Changyu.
Then he heard Dai Wenliang mutter to himself, “Come to think of it, I haven’t heard from Jingchen in several months. A couple of days ago, Magistrate Jing led his troops south to suppress bandits. I imagine Shandong must be in quite a state of chaos right now—I wonder if it will spill over into Huzhou.”
Zhao Langzhi felt a sudden, inexplicable pang of unease.
It was his doing that the bandits in Shandong had banded together to form a rebel army; and the fact that this rebel army was marching south to attack Huzhou was also part of his plan.
He had been secretly plotting this for over a year, taking great care not to alert Jing Mu in the slightest. Now that he was finally about to see the results and avenge the grievances of his past life, he should have been overjoyed.
But seeing Dai Wenliang in this state… he suddenly found himself, for some inexplicable reason, unable to feel that joy.
However, if Shu Changyu and Jing Mu had not been reborn, he would have simply called it quits. But these two had been granted rebirth at the cost of his own blood. Now that they were alive and well, he had no choice but to avenge the humiliation of his past life.
A moment later, Zhao Langzhi spoke as if in passing: “The Third Young Master of the Shu family will be fine. If something were to happen to him, you’d be heartbroken, wouldn’t you?”
Dai Wenliang had just stood up from in front of the pigeon cage. Upon hearing Zhao Langzhi’s words, without a second thought, he raised his hand and gave Zhao Langzhi’s arm a hard slap.
“What are you talking about? Don’t say such things!” Dai Wenliang retorted without hesitation. “That’s bad luck.”
Upon hearing this, Zhao Langzhi nodded with a smile on his face, but a sudden chill ran through him, and he felt a slight sweat break out on his palms.
——
Shu Changyu had kept watch at the city gate without sleep or rest for four full days.
Ever since that night when Zhuo Renyue ordered the siege to begin, the rebel forces had been surging forward in an unending stream.
Zhuo Renyue also harbored a grudge against Shu Changyu for two surprise attacks: one that had decimated a large portion of his troops while crossing the river, and another that had burned his camp while he was escorting an envoy.
But what was even more infuriating was that his own claim to power lacked legitimacy. Without Shu Changyu, it would be easy for him to conquer temporary territory, but overthrowing the dynasty would be difficult.
Consequently, within a couple of days, rumors began to spread throughout Zhuo Renyue’s army, claiming that Shu Changyu had been bewitched by dark sorcery from Emperor Qianning’s palace, and that the only way to break the spell was to storm Huzhou City and rescue Shu Changyu.
Thus, the emboldened rebels charged at Huzhou City like madmen, attacking with reckless abandon.
For the first two days, Huzhou still had sufficient supplies, and Shu Changyu was able to hold his ground. But by the third day, their arrows had run out. They had no choice but to let the enemy advance to the foot of the city walls, then hurl stones down to knock them back. On one occasion when they could not hold them off, Shu Changyu ordered his men to pour flammable liquid and throw torches from the walls, burning many of the rebels below to death.
However, in the face of the ceaseless stream of enemies, these supplies would soon be exhausted as well.
A few days earlier, when Shu Changyu was utterly exhausted, he could still manage an occasional brief nap; but by the fourth day, he was suffering from a splitting headache and dizziness, yet could not sleep a wink.
In recent days, quite a few rebels had managed to scale the city walls. The defending soldiers had no choice but to engage them in hand-to-hand combat, then hurl the bodies back down. By now, a thick stench of blood hung over the ramparts, which were stained crimson.
However, as time went on, more and more rebels climbed the walls. They charged up in wave after wave, and the battlefield had shifted from the base of the walls to the ramparts themselves. The defending soldiers suffered heavy casualties, and more and more bodies were carried back into the city.
Yet, as the death toll mounted, it became clear that the city was on the verge of falling.
A thick atmosphere of despair enveloped the entire city of Huzhou.
A light rain began to fall early on the fourth day. With all the fuel in the city exhausted, Shu Changyu took stock of the remaining stones and soldiers, his brow furrowed.
Shu Changyu’s wound had reopened several times over the past four days, and having had no proper rest, he had been running a low-grade fever. That morning, as the chill in the air set in, he felt a faint dizziness overtake him.
Yet Shu Changyu gave no sign of it on his face. The fighting had temporarily ceased; the rebel forces, having failed to capture the city, had withdrawn to regroup, while the soldiers on the city walls were silently carrying away the bodies of their comrades. Shu Changyu sat atop a section of crumbling city wall, enveloped by the thick stench of blood.
He looked at the soldiers around him. The morale of the defending troops had now plummeted to an all-time low. Everywhere he looked, he saw scattered, defeated soldiers; from time to time, cries and wails reached Shu Changyu’s ears.
These men could not endure another battle.
Shu Changyu sat among them, his face expressionless. The banners flying from the city ramparts were already torn, their tattered strips flapping and rustling in the wind.
“Lord Shu,” said the Prefect of Huzhou, who looked as if he had aged ten years after enduring the past few days. His voice was somewhat weak, and he no longer had the heart to look at the bloody scene as he stood beside Shu Changyu. “The Garrison Commander has returned… He was unable to secure reinforcements, but his escort was ambushed several times along the way. They’ve only just returned… only he and two others remain.”
Shu Changyu gave a faint “hm,” his voice hoarse and hollow.
“How many more… how many more days can we hold out?” asked the Prefect of Huzhou.
“The rebels have suffered nearly half their forces in casualties, but we’ve also lost forty percent of our men,” Shu Changyu said in a low voice. “We’ve run out of arrows, and the rest of our siege equipment will likely only last another two days. But if this rain doesn’t stop…” He raised his head and looked up at the gray, overcast sky.
“We won’t even last a single day.”
Tears immediately streamed down the Prefect of Huzhou’s face.
Shu Changyu gazed at the sky and sighed, “It is my incompetence, Shu, that I cannot protect the people of Huzhou.”
“Magistrate Shu…” the Prefect of Huzhou choked out. “You’ve done your best—you’ve truly done your best,” he said, wiping his eyes. “It’s just a pity for the people of Huzhou, who’ve only just enjoyed two years of peace…”
At that, he broke down, collapsing to the ground and weeping uncontrollably.
The vast majority of those defending the city had been born and raised in Huzhou and had never experienced such a bloody war. Shu Changyu saw it all. He watched as those who feared blood and death were forced to take up arms and climb the city walls.
But no matter what he did, Shu Changyu could not save them. He watched helplessly as they died, as families within the city were torn apart, and homes were destroyed.
Shu Changyu felt that Huzhou could no longer hold out—and neither could he.
Yet he could not bring himself to cry. He looked up at the hazy, overcast sky and suddenly felt a sense of resignation, as if he had reached a dead end where nothing remained to fear. He stared at the gloomy, oppressive clouds overhead and remained silent for a long while.
He made a decision in his heart.
“Magistrate Zheng,” Shu Changyu said in a hoarse voice. “I still need you to do one more thing for me.”
The Prefect of Huzhou fiercely stifled his sobs and gave a soft “Mm-hmm.”
“Now, Huzhou is clearly on the verge of falling,” Shu Changyu said, gazing at the sky, his voice utterly calm. “I cannot stand by and watch the entire population of Huzhou City die needlessly.”
At this point, he continued, “Send word that in three shichen, Shu Changyu is willing to serve under General Zhuo. During these three shichen, gather the civilians and soldiers at the rear city gate of Huzhou. Leave only two hundred men behind, armed with our last remaining arrows, to lie in wait on either side of the gate.”
Hearing this, the Prefect of Huzhou stared at him in stunned silence.
“At that time, I, Shu, will formally welcome General Zhuo. Once Zhuo Renyue enters the city, I will strike him down from the shadows. Regardless of whether the plan succeeds or fails, open the city gates at that moment and let them flee south first. We’ll figure out what to do next later.”
The Prefect of Huzhou was so shocked that the tears froze on his face.
Shu Changyu… He intended to use himself as bait to buy the people inside the city a chance to escape.
At that moment, regardless of whether the plan succeeded or failed, Shu Changyu… would not survive.
As soon as the Prefect of Huzhou realized this, he shook his head in anguish.
“Magistrate Shu, we can hold out for two more days—this rain is bound to stop!”
Shu Changyu gave a soft chuckle. “And what of the two days after that? We don’t know when reinforcements from the imperial court will arrive, and we cannot muster troops from other prefectures.”
Having said this, he continued before the Prefect of Huzhou could speak.
“Too many people have already died in Huzhou.” Shu Changyu said in a flat tone. “Moreover, most of these soldiers don’t know martial arts. By the time the enemy forces storm the city gates, they won’t have the strength to put up a fight.”
He looked up at the sky and said, “Too many people have already died before my very eyes. Even if I were as cold-hearted as stone, I could not stand by and do nothing.”
Author’s Note: Jing Mu will make his debut tomorrow!!!