Chapter 813: Overturn It!

“A little farther left. Left... there. Now a little right. Right... hey, hey, higher. A little higher.”

Xiao Yibo, chief steward of the Residence, was directing a group of Brocade-Clad personal guards as they hung the new plaque reading **Prince Pingxi Residence**.

He stood below giving orders while the men above did the work.

“Chief Steward Xiao, this subordinate thinks it’s already perfectly straight.”

“I know.”

“Then...”

“No matter how straight the plaque starts out, you still shift it left and right first. Spend all its moving now, so it never has to come down later. It’s a good omen.”

“Hey, that won’t do. Who knows what our Prince might become in the future...”

The guard realized halfway through that he had misspoken.

The man was already a Prince.

Above that...

Everyone could think whatever they liked in their own hearts.

Shouting it out openly was another matter.

Xiao Yibo smiled and did not rebuke him.

He was an old retainer who had followed the Prince since Tiger Head City and personally witnessed his entire rise.

If anyone harbored the greatest hopes for the future... it was probably Xiao Yibo.

What was impossible?

No.

Nothing was impossible.

Once the plaque was hung, Xiao Yibo clapped his hands and ordered the servants outside to sprinkle water and sweep the Residence gate one more time. Then he headed back inside.

The first act of the princely investiture ceremony had just ended.

The imperial decrees had been read.

Next came the military review and martial demonstrations, followed by rewards for those who had rendered merit during the recent campaign into Chu.

Quite a few nobles from Savage tribes had come as well.

Because the battle plan had changed at the last moment, the Savage auxiliary troops had never actually entered Chu. They had mostly sat around the Zhennan Pass line waiting for a while.

But they had still gathered their men, horses, and weapons at their own expense and answered the summons.

There was no chance they would be left out of the rewards.

Tens of thousands who came when called and left when dismissed... even if they were dogs, you still had to take care of them.

That evening, the Residence would hold a banquet with more than a hundred tables.

The guest list included the imperial commission, commanders from every branch under the Residence, representatives of those who had rendered merit, representatives from every trade and industry beneath the Residence, and many others.

The commendation assembly that had been postponed the previous year because of war had been moved to today as well.

So Xiao Yibo needed to make another inspection.

Nothing could be allowed to go wrong.

By the time he finished his circuit... the sky was still bright.

Xiao Yibo entered a courtyard filled with red tables and saw two men sitting there, sipping wine and eating peanuts.

The moment they noticed him, both smiled and beckoned.

“Come, Chief Steward Xiao. Have a couple cups with us. Sit down and rest.”

The two were none other than Chen Daole and He Chunlai.

Both were Jin-born.

In earlier years, both had been righteous men devoted to resisting Yan and restoring Jin.

Later... they became the court’s “running dogs.”

Because they were talented young men with real potential, they had first been tossed around inside the yamen, then tossed into the army, then back through the yamen again.

After being seasoned thoroughly enough... the Blind Man pulled them up under himself as assistants and put them to work handling general affairs.

Chen Daole had entered this line of work a little earlier.

He Chunlai, however, cooked extremely well, so he had spent longer beside Prince Pingxi serving as a cook.

That sort of personal connection was something outsiders could envy but never reproduce.

Even now, whenever He Chunlai took his monthly rest days, he would return to the Residence twice a month and cook for the Prince.

People in the outside yamen liked to joke:

Lord He can judge the salt in a dish with an iron ladle, and he can judge the weight of the affairs in his hands just as well.

Both men had developed very well.

They could now be considered capable figures beneath the Blind Man, each able to handle a sphere of work independently.

Xiao Yibo saluted courteously but did not sit.

Chen Daole had always been free and easy by nature.

He simply reached out, dragged Xiao Yibo over, sat him down with them, and poured him wine.

“Where were we?” Chen Daole asked.

He Chunlai answered:

“We were talking about His Majesty’s decrees.”

“Right. This time I really am convinced. Those decrees, that posture... this is what you call genuine breadth of spirit. I understand what you want. You understand what I mean. Forget all the petty scheming and fly-counting calculations. Put it openly on the table. Let the whole world see exactly how the Ji clan treats our Prince. High-level. Truly high-level.”

He Chunlai nodded.

“Throughout history, the hardest thing to break has never been conspiracies and petty schemes. It is an open plot carried out beneath the sun.”

“Exactly. Come. For that open plot, we drink a full cup!”

Chen Daole and He Chunlai raised their cups.

Xiao Yibo hesitated, then raised his own.

The three touched cups and drained them.

There was not much need for restraint when speaking here.

They were inside Prince Pingxi Residence.

Perhaps not precisely in public, but at least everything they said could be said with a clear conscience.

So they could speak as openly as they wished.

Besides, whether it was the Prince or Mr. Bei, neither would be unable to tolerate the occasional sour scholarly sighing of the men beneath them.

Xiao Yibo rose and poured another round.

Chen Daole continued:

“His Majesty’s move does two things. First, it leaves those former Jingnan Army commanders with nothing more to say. Second, the highest level of doing business has always been trading in favors. When the Prince marched into Chu, His Majesty sent the Crown Prince here. At the same time, Xu Wenzu in Yingdu received orders to prepare for the worst, even if that meant reopening a full national war. Emotion and reason both stand on His Majesty’s side now. Difficult. Very difficult.”

He Chunlai nodded.

“Yes. Ordinarily, throughout history, a court and a military domain inevitably scheme against each other. The court uses division. The military domain uses solidarity. One tears apart. One squeezes together. Bit by bit, cracks appear. But when the other side acts transparently, behaves openly, and possesses such a broad vision... you cannot even find a seam to pry open. Sometimes one can only sigh. Could Yan truly possess the Mandate of Heaven? Was Yan simply destined to unify all Xia? Two generations of brilliant sovereigns. Two generations.”

No one understood Prince Pingxi’s abilities better than they did.

“If this Emperor truly continues treating our Prince with complete sincerity,” He Chunlai continued, “then our Residence will have no choice but to keep conquering the realm for Great Yan. Within our lifetimes, seeing Qian and Chu destroyed and all beneath Heaven unified would not be fantasy.”

Chen Daole sighed.

“One can only call it the Mandate of Heaven. A few days ago, Mr. Bei had business elsewhere, so I substituted for him and taught the Heir and Crown Prince one lesson. How old is that Crown Prince? Yet he is already that precocious. At first, when I heard the late Emperor had praised him as a ‘fine imperial grandson,’ and that some even said the late Emperor chose the Sixth Prince as successor partly because he valued that imperial grandson, I didn’t believe it. But now... who knows? Maybe they truly are headed for three generations. Three generations of brilliant sovereigns. How are Qian and Chu supposed to survive that?”

He Chunlai chuckled.

“How they survive is one thing. But this northern wind... how are *we* supposed to survive that?”

Chen Daole and He Chunlai burst out laughing together.

There was a faint desolation in their laughter.

They were Jin-born.

Perhaps circumstances had been stronger than men.

Perhaps they had truly been won over by the personal charisma of the Blind Man and the Prince.

Both were true.

But one thing they lacked... was loyalty to the so-called Great Yan.

And it was not only these two.

Across eastern Jin, the Blind Man’s long campaign of “de-Yanification” had produced remarkable results.

Eastern Jin was still Jin land, after all.

So deep inside, they all harbored ambitions.

Those ambitions resembled, to a certain extent, the ambitions of Qu Peiluo, young master of the Qu Clan.

Jin had been destroyed.

Men like them carried the stain of “traitors to Jin.”

But if they could assist a new sovereign in founding a new dynasty, every stain on their names could be washed clean in a single stroke.

Not only cleaned... gilded.

Even if the Prince himself was Yan-born, the land from which he rose, the place where he built his foundation and raised his troops, the future land of imperial ascent... was Fengxin.

Was Jin.

Then the new dynasty could be called the rebirth of Jin.

Watching the two men drink while a faint air of dejection settled over them...

Xiao Yibo, who had remained quiet until now, smiled and spoke.

“Why are you two in such a hurry? I haven’t read many books, but even I know the saying: one time is one time, another time is another.”

“Oh?” Chen Daole looked toward him. “What insight does Steward Xiao have?”

“I wouldn’t dare call it insight. I simply need to take my leave first. Both Madams are pregnant. The lotus-seed soup they must drink tonight has to be prepared in advance. That is even more important than the banquet. Nothing can go wrong there.”

Chen Daole and He Chunlai looked at each other.

Then... the corners of their mouths slowly lifted.

The two burst out laughing again.

All the earlier dejection vanished.

That was right.

There were still the little masters yet to be born.

...

The troops conducting the martial display belonged to one of Liang Cheng’s forces.

They had only recently returned from fighting in Chu.

The smell of blood had not entirely left them.

Keeping infantry formations neat was not simple.

But neither was it impossibly difficult.

Years ago, the Imperial Guards of Qian’s Shangjing could march in beautifully aligned ranks during peacetime and give both their Emperor and the citizens of the capital the illusion that a mighty army stood ready at hand.

Cavalry was different.

Once cavalry reached real numbers and could still maintain perfect formation, that became something genuinely difficult.

It was not only about the riders.

It was about the horses.

Men and horses both had to be thoroughly trained.

Cavalry like this could become an absolute nightmare on any battlefield in the world.

For years, Yan’s rise had depended precisely upon two great cavalry field armies.

The Savage nobles watching the demonstration did not look especially comfortable.

Their own tribes had riders.

Their own tribes had horses.

But against elites like these... one Yan rider being worth five Savage riders would not be an exaggeration.

After the martial demonstration ended...

Prince Pingxi personally awarded the men who had rendered merit in the previous campaign.

Chen Xianba, who had taken Dugu Mu’s head, received the highest merit and was granted the honor of riding proudly before the formation.

A young man was still a young man.

He truly did indulge his wild arrogance for a while.

After that came rewards for those who had distinguished themselves in logistics, planning, scouting, and every other field connected to the campaign.

Only representative figures were called forward.

The rest of the mass rewards did not need to pass directly through Prince Pingxi’s hands.

Every office and yamen under the Residence naturally had its own responsibilities and would not leave anyone out.

By the time everything finished... the sun had already begun leaning west.

Everyone qualified to attend the banquet started entering the city and making their way toward Prince Pingxi Residence.

Prince Pingxi himself, though the central figure of the banquet, did not hurry back first.

With his personal guards clearing the way, he instead came to the entrance of the Gourd Temple.

Even with night approaching, plenty of people were still burning incense and praying there.

There was no helping it.

For a hundred li around Fengxin City, this was the only real religious site.

The personal guards cleared the worshippers from the temple.

When the people learned the Prince himself had arrived, not one showed resentment.

If they could not kowtow to the Bodhisattvas for the moment... they simply gathered around the Prince’s procession and knelt instead.

It was all kowtowing.

In their eyes, there was not much difference between the Prince and a Bodhisattva.

Zheng Fan entered the temple alone.

Well... his Pixiu followed him in too.

A group of disabled veteran soldiers who worked there after leaving the army knelt and saluted him.

Zheng Fan hesitated.

Then he walked over, helped several of them to their feet, and asked after their health and lives.

Afterward... he entered the rear courtyard.

Little Monk Liaofan knelt on the ground.

“This monk greets Your Highness. May Your Highness enjoy health and fortune.”

Monk Kongyuan sat beside the well with a broom in his arms, staring blankly at the setting sun.

His forehead was still bandaged.

The wound from the last time he had repeatedly slammed his head against the ground had not fully healed.

Little Monk Liaofan brought over a stool.

Zheng Fan sat.

But he did not touch the tea or preserved fruit Liaofan brought him.

When Siniang was not beside him, he never ate or drank anything from outside.

Monk Kongyuan seemed not to notice Zheng Fan at all.

He continued staring into the sky, entirely absorbed in his own world.

Prince Pingxi, for his part, seemed to forget that an entire Residence full of guests was still waiting for him to begin the evening banquet.

He simply sat there, watching the mad old monk stare into space.

Little Monk Liaofan stood to the side.

His expression shifted now and then from solemn dignity to soft, almost feminine grace.

It was said that not long ago, a Jin caravan master from Litian City had entered the temple to burn incense.

He saw that bewitching expression on Liaofan’s face... and immediately developed improper thoughts.

The winds of Jin rarely reached the common people, most of whom spent their lives bent low to the earth.

But the noble and wealthy classes had absorbed those habits deeply.

That caravan master was apparently quite the sentimental breed.

He actually asked Liaofan to elope with him.

Then the temple helpers tied him up and threw him into jail.

The Blind Man had later told the story to Zheng Fan over breakfast as a joke.

At the end, he even sighed that Little Monk Liaofan himself did not mind the incident at all.

He had come personally to plead for leniency on behalf of the caravan master.

He felt no shame toward the grace in his own appearance.

Nor did he consider it some desecration of his identity as a monk.

There was something in him of one who had seen through the red dust and realized all forms were illusion.

Zheng Fan had listened.

That was all.

He had never told the Blind Man what the mad old monk had said that day.

Clearly, Siniang had not told anyone either.

They were about to become parents.

Who would deliberately spread words that sounded like a curse upon their own child?

But to say they did not care... how could that be true?

After the Sword Saint gained Liu Dahu as a stepson, he treasured his own biological son all the more.

Prince Pingxi had spent these last several years mostly raising his godson.

He loved that godson dearly.

But somewhere deep inside, he still carried expectations for his own flesh and blood, his own bloodline continuing forward.

More importantly... in this world, Zheng Fan had always possessed a sensation like walking across ground covered in shallow water, every step splashing without ever truly sinking roots.

In this world... he wanted a root.

Something that would bind him genuinely and completely to this place.

Something that would let him truly become part of it.

The feeling of being a lone stranger in a foreign land... after enough years, became unpleasant.

Tiring.

Dull.

Wearisome.

Yet today... for some reason... after the princely investiture ceremony ended...

Zheng Fan had simply wanted to come sit in this temple.

He had swollen enough during the day.

The Blind Man and Little Sixth had dueled across the distance, and Zheng Fan had only gradually realized what had happened afterward.

He was too lazy to go find the Blind Man and argue about it.

He had no energy left to sit down with anyone and analyze just how clever Little Sixth’s methods had been.

He only wanted quiet.

Somewhere to sit.

After swelling came emptiness.

And right now... he did feel a little empty.

He sat there for a long time.

Eventually...

Zheng Fan closed his eyes as though he had drifted into a nap.

Outside, Xiao Yibo and the others were already waiting beyond the temple.

Inside the Residence, a vast crowd had taken their seats and were waiting for the Prince to return so the banquet could begin.

But ask Xiao Yibo to go inside and hurry him?

He would never dare.

Compared with the Prince’s mood... making that entire crowd wait a little longer meant nothing.

Their Prince had already climbed to his present position.

The likes and dislikes of outsiders no longer had much power to affect him.

Inside the temple, the Pixiu that had followed him in looked bored beyond description.

But because the atmosphere was so quiet, it did not even dare snort loudly.

It could only pace slowly through the Arhat Hall in tiny steps.

Whenever it encountered a Buddha or Arhat statue mounted on some unusual beast... it stopped.

Changed angle.

Changed position.

And carefully studied the mount several times.

At last...

Monk Kongyuan lowered his head.

He looked toward Zheng Fan.

And Zheng Fan, as though sensing him at that exact moment, opened eyes that had been closed for a long while.

Ever since Monk Kongyuan returned from the snowfields, he had become completely different.

The old monk of the past wore his slipperiness openly.

At every turn, he would explain that “armed force compelled this poor monk, and therefore this poor monk could only do such-and-such.”

But in truth... perhaps that had been a kind of detoxification.

All the poison had remained on the surface.

After passing through life and death... no.

After nearly dying once outright... it was as though a waterfall had scoured him clean.

All the old polish had been washed away.

He looked like an entirely different man.

A compassionate smile appeared on Monk Kongyuan’s face.

Behind him, candlelight from the hall containing Prince Pingxi’s longevity tablet flickered across his features.

He looked extraordinarily devout.

Their eyes met.

Monk Kongyuan seemed to understand what Prince Pingxi had come here wanting to ask.

And Prince Pingxi... seemed to understand what Monk Kongyuan wanted to answer.

A vague, wordless intuition.

Yet impossibly real.

Since that was enough...

Zheng Fan rose from the stool.

Turned.

And walked toward the exit.

He had sat long enough.

Time to go home.

He was suddenly grateful that he had once decided to build this temple.

Having somewhere cold and quiet to sit for a while... was good.

Perhaps everyone who reached middle age developed some version of the same strange problem.

Home was a harbor.

And yet sometimes... one desperately wanted to escape it for just a short while.

The Pixiu sensed its master’s intention to leave.

It immediately abandoned its ongoing contest with the mounts beneath the Arhat statues and trotted closer.

It had a fiery temperament.

It had hated remaining in this oppressive quiet where it did not even dare break the atmosphere.

It wanted to return to its shed inside the Residence and roll wildly in the thick straw that still smelled of sunlight.

At that moment...

Monk Kongyuan finally spoke.

“Your Highness. What if Heaven and Earth are not yet settled?”

Zheng Fan stopped walking.

He did not turn around.

He answered:

“Then this Prince will be the dark horse.”

Dark horse?

Horse?

The Pixiu felt insulted.

It looked at its master with wounded eyes.

Am I not good enough?

You’re actually thinking about horses outside?

And not even a white one.

A black one!

The Pixiu became nervous.

Uneasy.

Its mind was indeed intelligent enough to understand human speech.

It simply had not reached the point where it could understand verbal riddles and hidden meanings.

Zheng Fan started walking again.

Monk Kongyuan threw the broom he had been holding for so long straight into the well.

The well was shallow.

A splash came almost immediately.

Then the old monk asked again:

“Your Highness. And what if Heaven and Earth are already settled?”

Zheng Fan did not slow.

Still did not turn.

He merely waved one hand casually behind him.

“Then I’ll overturn it.”

[End of Chapter 813]