Chapter 850: Break Shangjing, Capture the Qian Empress!

Prince Pingxi sat on the back of his Pixiu.

His back was not especially straight, yet he did not look the least bit careless or slovenly. Perhaps everything before him truly amounted to nothing much in his eyes, not enough to deserve any particular solemnity.

Some airs had to be put on. No matter how well one concealed them, a trace of deliberate performance could still be found.

Others had already become completely natural.

For example, Prince Fu Zhao Yuannian, kneeling prostrate on the ground, did so very naturally.

Even when he shouted, “Father,” nobody present mocked or jeered at him.

When another man held the knife and you were the fish on the chopping block, dignity was not especially important to most people.

Besides, although the State of Yan had suffered a defeat in Liang, it was still far beyond anything that could be described as “a centipede dies but never falls.” The Great Yan Dynasty remained an exhausted yet terrifying colossus.

For a military Prince of Yan who wielded real power to accept a Qian feudal prince as an “adopted son”... why not?

If anything, the man kneeling on the ground was marrying upward.

Plenty of people could do that arithmetic, and the answer was perfectly clear.

Chen Xianba swung down from his horse, drew his saber, and strode ahead.

Liu Dahu and Zheng Man followed close behind. After them came ranks of armored Yan soldiers filing into the residence.

They entered Prince Fu Residence.

And they took control of it.

Since their Prince would be staying here, absolute security was naturally required.

From beginning to end, Zhao Yuannian remained kneeling there without moving.

When Xue San had brought the message several days earlier, the young Prince Fu had felt humiliated and enraged.

But now, with Prince Pingxi himself standing before him... the humiliation, the anger, had both vanished without a trace.

There was, in fact, something relaxing and liberating about being completely crushed and dominated.

Zheng Fan dismounted from his Pixiu.

Xu Chuang walked at the very front, the Sword Saint beside him, and A’Ming followed behind.

Prince Pingxi himself climbed the steps of Prince Fu Residence.

He paused briefly, without deliberately lowering his head to look at the “son” still kneeling before him.

In truth, he could have been absurd.

He could have been rude.

A victor could trample a defeated man’s dignity as much as he pleased, using it to satisfy some private sense of achievement.

For example... right here, beneath the great plaque of Prince Fu Residence, he could ask:

“How is your mother?”

If that did not feel like enough, he could ask:

“Has your mother missed me?”

But somehow, the mood was gone.

There was no taste in it anymore.

This was only a simple return to an old place.

I came here once before.

Now...

I have merely come again.

In the end, Zheng Fan stepped over the threshold without saying a single word to Zhao Yuannian.

Zhao Yuannian closed his eyes. His body tilted slightly, whether from exhaustion or fear no one could say.

He blinked hard, braced both hands on the ground, and tried to stand.

The first time, he failed.

The second time, he succeeded.

He dusted off his sleeves. A faint calmness entered his eyes.

Then he even smiled.

As Prince Pingxi walked through the residence, he issued several military orders.

First: Count Yishan Chen Yang was to reorganize and settle the troops outside the city.

Second: Fan Li was to suppress any disorder inside the city and, following the precedent of Lanyang City, open the government storehouses and distribute grain and goods.

Third: Xue San was to leave the city immediately, head south with scout cavalry, and investigate the situation there.

Fourth: at ten o’clock that night, all officers of Assistant General rank and above were to assemble here for a military council.

The furnishings and scenery inside Prince Fu Residence remained elegant, revealing exceptionally refined taste.

Armored Yan soldiers stood guard along both sides of the covered walkways.

Prince Pingxi continued all the way into the rear residence.

The eunuchs and maids there had already been gathered and placed under guard by Chen Xianba.

Chen Xianba stood before one particular building with his saber at his waist.

When Zheng Fan approached, he immediately lowered his head and reported:

“Your Highness, the inside has been cleared.”

The scene somehow resembled a village rogue or lazy good-for-nothing knocking on a widow’s door in the middle of the night.

Probably only Prince Pingxi could make a boy as proud as Chen Xianba willingly perform such duties.

For anyone else, it would have been impossible.

Zheng Fan nodded and entered.

A faint scent of incense lingered inside.

The Princess Consort of Prince Fu, dressed in bright colors, was brewing tea.

When she saw Zheng Fan enter, she walked over quite naturally, like a wife who had guarded the home and finally seen her husband return.

“You’re back. Tired?”

As she spoke, she began helping Zheng Fan remove his armor.

All the servants had been cleared out, so the Princess Consort had no choice but to do it herself.

But she was only a woman, and the armor Zheng Fan wore was not light.

Fortunately, Prince Pingxi did possess some habit of cherishing fragrant jade.

The Princess Consort undid the clasps while Zheng Fan removed the heavier pieces himself.

Armor required padded clothing beneath it. The heavier the armor, the thicker that underlayer had to be, or the flesh beneath would suffer.

Prince Pingxi’s underlayer, however, was rather particular. Instead of plain white, it was made from soft black silk, with golden-thread soft hedgehog armor embedded within it. It offered additional protection while still looking elegant.

Once the armor came off, his whole body felt considerably lighter.

Zheng Fan sat down.

The Princess Consort poured tea and offered the cup to him.

Zheng Fan did not take it.

Instead, he picked up the waterskin he had removed earlier, pulled the stopper, and drank from that.

The Princess Consort covered her mouth and laughed.

“Your Highness is afraid I poisoned the tea?”

“Mm.”

She did not look embarrassed in the slightest.

Instead, she sat directly on Zheng Fan’s lap and wrapped both arms around his neck.

“I’ve waited years for you. How could I bear to poison you to death?”

As she spoke, she deliberately shifted against him.

Zheng Fan’s thigh clearly felt a slick, warm softness, while that faint fragrance gradually seeped around him.

“You were afraid I’d gotten thin. Tell me. Have I?”

Zheng Fan carefully studied the woman sitting on his lap.

Her skin remained pale, with just the right flush of healthy color. Her eyes carried the dignity of a noblewoman while losing none of their foxlike allure.

The Princess Consort was actually fairly tall for a woman, but she was by no means the slender, reedlike type.

Instead, her figure possessed a perfectly measured fullness.

“A little thinner.”

Zheng Fan compared her with the memory in his head and gave his verdict.

The Princess Consort leaned her body against his chest.

Then her red lips moved close to his earlobe and blew a soft breath of warmth.

“I got thin from missing you. Believe me?”

Zheng Fan shook his head.

He had taken obliviousness to romance to its absolute limit.

The Princess Consort looked annoyed. She actually showed the petulance of a young girl, biting her lower lip before spitting out:

“You heartless bastard. Truly heartless.”

Then... the Princess Consort lifted the hem of her skirt.

The Prince’s gaze dropped.

What he saw were legs wrapped in white stockings...

Zheng Fan could be quite certain that stockings, for the moment, existed only inside the wardrobes of the three ladies of Prince Pingxi Residence. They had not yet been manufactured or sold outside.

So just how much extra material had that bastard Xue San added to the message?

The Princess Consort caught Zheng Fan’s hand and guided it downward.

Once the Prince’s hand landed, it began roaming on its own.

The Princess Consort rested her face against his chest while continuing that same steady, slight movement.

Softly, she said:

“Our son is still young. He doesn’t know better. You’re his father. Don’t stoop to arguing with a child.”

Zheng Fan very much wanted to ask:

Didn’t I fail to sleep with you back then?

But this time, the Prince did not deliberately ruin the mood by refusing to play along.

Because without meaning to, the Princess Consort had struck a certain tone.

And that tone happened to scratch Prince Pingxi exactly where he itched.

The Princess Consort did not understand the terminology behind such things. She had never seen stockings before, nor had she played with this particular kind of language.

But she was a clever woman.

Not knowing the name of something did not mean she failed to understand it.

At the end of the day, certain male creatures had been pigs since ancient times.

“You really mustn’t hold it against our son, all right?”

“All right.”

The Princess Consort’s left hand began sliding downward, feeling for something.

“Hiss...”

The Prince tipped his head slightly back and let out a low sound of pleasure.

“He can’t compare with you at all.”

A trace of red entered Prince Pingxi’s eyes.

Stay in the army long enough and even a sow could start looking like Diao Chan, never mind a genuine beauty of the age.

But Prince Pingxi quickly suppressed the instinct rising inside him. By sheer will, he forced the heat back down and restored clarity to his eyes.

“I came in because the soldiers under me, the people of Chuzhou City, and even your son all believed I ought to come in. But I did not intend to do anything.”

“You think I’m old, don’t you?”

Zheng Fan shook his head.

Women in this age bore children early.

That was why several Queen Mothers he had encountered still looked young despite having sons who were already grown. Their actual ages were often only somewhere in their thirties.

Add lives of luxury, fine food and clothing, and meticulous care...

In later generations, a woman in her thirties would still be called a girl.

A touch of mature elegance mixed with playfulness that had not yet faded could produce a charm difficult to resist.

“You must think I’m old.”

The Princess Consort grew angry.

Before, she had been leaning sideways against the Prince. Now, as though refusing to pay him any more attention, she turned around and sat with her back against him.

But that slight, steady rhythm never stopped.

It was not some exaggerated bounce.

It was an all-encompassing softness, giving a sensation of astonishing compatibility between spirit and flesh.

Combined with everything that had come before... for a moment, the Prince finally spoke.

“Stop... stop for a moment.”

The Princess Consort pretended not to hear. She continued sulking.

“Grrr...”

A low growl, almost like that of a beast, came from Prince Pingxi’s throat.

It was the sound of an animal forcing its own savagery under control.

This time the Princess Consort truly became frightened.

She turned her head, biting her lip, looking pitiful enough to stir anyone’s heart.

She really was afraid of the man before her.

His identity.

His past.

His position today.

No matter how a lamb played with a tiger, fear remained buried in its bones.

But she also understood her current situation.

The moment her son killed that Thousand-Man Commander of the Silver-Armored Guard and opened the gates of Chuzhou City, mother and son had lost every path of retreat.

She had told her son that his mother would catch him if he fell.

So she had to keep holding on.

A clever woman was often equally accurate in judging men.

She knew that if she succeeded here, both she and her son would gain security.

The man before her appeared decisive and ruthless in killing, yet deep inside him seemed always to preserve a certain softness.

Just as Prince Pingxi often took advantage of the straightforward natures of the Sword Saint and Hero Chen... now the same tactic was being used against him.

“There are already three ladies at home. That is enough.”

That was Prince Pingxi’s answer.

The Princess Consort said plaintively:

“Four would be just enough for a full table of leaf cards.”

You make a strangely convincing point.

“Too many women become troublesome.”

That truly came from Zheng Fan’s heart.

In his previous life, he had always disliked harem stories and stud fantasies.

In this life, he was the same.

Siniang was his first wife, unique and irreplaceable. In front of Siniang, it was as though he had married an older, commanding beauty while he himself became the obedient little puppy.

And, well... for all his fearsome reputation outside, Prince Pingxi rather enjoyed that arrangement.

As for the Princess, strictly speaking, Siniang had been the one to snatch her back. Siniang wanted Princesses and Commandery Princesses around the house calling her Elder Sister so she could knead and tease them whenever she pleased, which was why she had actively pulled the Princess into the family.

Liu Ruqing had been sent by Fan Zhengwen.

At first, accepting her had also been a political calculation meant to reassure the Fan Clan.

That had been for the sake of the state.

Of course...

Liu Ruqing’s drawn-out cry of “Uncle~” had also contributed a great deal.

But Zheng Fan was not the Emperor of Yan.

He could not detach himself from emotion and treat family, women, and children as mere pieces of life’s expected arrangement.

Leaning nearby while Siniang reviewed memorials and prepared the Residence’s financial ledgers.

Listening to the Princess say, “This Princess commands you...” over and over.

Listening to Liu Ruqing sing one of her little songs.

That life was already relaxed and full enough.

Outside the household, he could look.

He could touch a little.

He could steal some tofu.

But actually doing something and then bringing another woman home afterward, adding yet another permanent member to the household... there really was no need.

“Your Highness, why wrong yourself like this? I’m only a widow. I’m not asking for status. Your Highness can simply enjoy me however you please. If you taste me and don’t like the flavor, throw me away. If one day you crave this taste again, pick me back up. I’ll dust myself off for you, and you can savor it once more. Wuuwuu...”

The Princess Consort began to sob softly.

The rhythm of her sobbing somehow matched the rhythm of her movement.

“Your Highness, why don’t I call Yuannian in? Let him stand outside the door and hear that his father despises his mother and doesn’t want her anymore. Wuuwuu...”

Damn you... temptress!

...

By dusk, clarity had completely returned to Prince Pingxi’s eyes.

More than clarity.

He now carried the detached purity of a saint freed from all worldly desire, as though his soul might float away into Heaven and Earth at any moment.

The Princess Consort walked to the tea table and poured herself a cup.

Zheng Fan had expected her to spit it back out.

Instead, she swallowed.

The Prince sighed.

The Princess Consort returned with a smiling face, crouched beside him, and began massaging his legs.

She said nothing.

And asked nothing.

Zheng Fan spoke first.

“Does Prince Fu Residence have many members?”

“Not many in the main household. Just us mother and son, plus our three daughters-in-law.”

“March with the army.”

“Wherever you tell us to go, we mother and son will go.”

In truth... there was no possibility of Prince Fu Residence remaining in Chuzhou City now.

“Want to go to Yanjing?”

If they went to Yanjing, they could become like the Wen Clan back then.

As the first member of Qian’s imperial clan to defect, Zhao Yuannian would qualify to become a political signboard and receive preferential treatment.

Perhaps, simply to disgust Qian, Little Sixth might even grant Zhao Yuannian a “Prince of Qian Residence.”

The former Emperor of Jin had needed to sell his ancestral state and its sacred altars just to receive a Prince of Jin Residence in Yanjing.

Zhao Yuannian would be making an enormous profit.

But the Princess Consort shook her head immediately.

“We’re only a widow and her orphan. We’re not going to Yanjing. I’ve decided I’m eating you for the rest of my life.”

She put extra emphasis on the word “eating.”

“Eastern Jin doesn’t support idlers.”

“What mother would want her son to become a complete idler? Or merely a signboard? How many generations has the Prince Fu line already spent as useless idlers?”

“We’ll see what he can do.”

That answer came from political calculation.

Supporting puppet regimes had always been a cheap and useful tool.

Zhao Yuannian did not yet possess the conditions to serve that purpose.

Even Great Yan, as it stood now, did not yet possess the conditions either.

But later?

When Yan was finally prepared to begin the great war to pacify all Xia, Zhao Yuannian would become a very useful piece.

Clearly, that was the future the Princess Consort wanted to seek for her son.

It was far more practical than going to Yanjing to become some ornamental Prince displayed for people to look at.

This woman was clever.

Zheng Fan checked the hour and stood.

The generals outside should already have arrived.

The Princess Consort took out a new python robe.

“It was his. Never worn. I altered it for you in advance. It should fit. You used his woman. Naturally, you can wear his clothes too.”

Zheng Fan looked at her very seriously.

Obviously, this woman had already figured out his temperament.

Why did Emperors so often rage unpredictably and act unfathomable before their ministers?

Because they did not want the people below them to understand their habits too clearly.

This woman plainly had.

And every sentence she spoke deliberately stepped on exactly the right spot.

But Zheng Fan was not worried that bringing her back could produce any real trouble.

Siniang would probably be delighted.

A Commandery Princess little sister might not be available for now, but a Queen Mother little sister was not bad either.

In front of Siniang, so-called harem struggles, scheming, jealousy, and intrigue would amount to nothing more than a joke.

Sometimes Zheng Fan himself suspected that perhaps Siniang merely wanted to play with the rear residence, while he existed only to thread the needle and bring new pieces into it.

The python robe fit very well.

Its style lacked much of the aggressive majesty found in Great Yan’s python robes. Its finer details instead revealed a kind of careful restraint.

Still, it looked decent enough once worn.

Nobody would care what Prince Pingxi was wearing now or whether it followed proper regulations.

He pushed open the door and walked outside.

At the courtyard gate, Chen Xianba stood guard with Liu Dahu and Zheng Man.

As for the Sword Saint... the Sword Saint was gone.

Having been fooled once already, he clearly had no intention of falling for it a second time.

“Your Highness, all the generals have arrived. They’re waiting in the front hall.”

“Good.”

The Yan commanders assembled in Prince Fu Residence’s front hall.

The moment Zheng Fan entered, the men who had been chatting immediately fell silent.

Prince Pingxi sat in the seat of honor.

All the generals below knelt together.

“Greetings, Your Highness!”

“Rise.”

Zheng Fan picked up the tea placed beside him and brushed the lid lightly against the rim.

Then he hesitated.

Liu Dahu and the others had not personally poured this fresh cup for him.

So he did not drink.

He only made a show of it.

But as he prepared to set the cup down... he noticed that all the generals below wore a certain kind of smile.

In truth...

Zheng Fan had not entered Prince Fu Residence because of the Princess Consort.

Sometimes, however, once a man climbed onto the tiger, he could no longer get off.

He had to go in.

He had to remain with the Princess Consort for a while.

Because these generals, and the soldiers beneath them, wanted to “see” that happen.

At Lanyang City, Zheng Fan had forbidden killing and looting.

At Chuzhou City, he forbade it again.

The soldiers were bound to feel stifled.

They needed somewhere to vent.

They needed some form of spiritual satisfaction.

Put plainly, they needed something that felt damned good.

So Zheng Fan entered Prince Fu Residence.

And then... the soldiers were happy.

It was a twisted logic.

But it genuinely existed.

Heaven knew how many Yan soldiers were currently sitting together telling stories about how the Princess Consort was “serving” their Prince inside Prince Fu Residence, each man talking with the proud satisfaction of someone personally involved.

After all, it was their brave fighting that allowed their Prince to enjoy himself like this, wasn’t it?

If some mediocre commander—or rather, some commander without enough prestige—dared eat alone like this, the men below would certainly become resentful.

Everyone would ask:

Why him?

But Prince Pingxi was, in effect, the idol of Great Yan’s army, especially among ordinary and lower-ranking soldiers. His prestige was almost impossible to overstate.

Prince Jingnan had simply been too cold and aloof back then.

The soldiers’ feelings toward Prince Jingnan were pure awe and fear.

Prince Pingxi was visibly more human.

Especially after Old Tian had silently abandoned the Jingnan Army and gone far away alone... this army badly wanted a new “Prince Jingnan,” one who truly possessed some human warmth, to command them.

Thus when Zheng Fan ate alone, the entire army could somehow project themselves into it and feel involved.

In fact... they probably enjoyed it more than Prince Pingxi himself did.

Being a qualified political mascot truly was not easy.

You had to let the people below feel your warmth.

You had to let them see certain things they wanted to see.

Sometimes, to satisfy them, you had no choice but to compromise a little.

For example, Zheng Fan felt that this afternoon he had sacrificed a small part of himself for the morale of the army.

Ai.

Being commander-in-chief... was hard.

Old Tian had once said that the phrase “love soldiers as your sons” was merely a scholar’s fantasy about military command.

But Old Tian had also been speaking from a place of privilege.

You were strong.

Who dared behave improperly in front of you?

Even if they did not fear your Prince Jingnan command token, they feared having their dog heads smashed apart by one punch.

But Zheng Fan lacked that sort of strength.

So having to suffer a little grievance... well.

It was unavoidable.

Now... looking at Chen Yang and the other generals struggling to suppress their smiles...

Zheng Fan snorted coldly.

He set the teacup back onto the table with a heavy thump.

“Look at the useless expressions on all your faces. We’ve barely gotten started.”

These commanders formed the skeleton of the army.

They were also its best “speakers.”

And the best measure of the soldiers’ morale.

Prince Pingxi stood.

Then declared:

“Once we reach the walls of Shangjing, let that Qian Emperor send out a few of his Empresses and Noble Consorts. Then you bastards will have something worth laughing about!”

After saying it...

Prince Pingxi immediately despised himself in his own heart.

Ai.

Vulgar.

Truly vulgar.

But what choice did he have?

These rough soldiers—even the seasoned commanders who had soaked in military camps for half their lives—loved hearing exactly this kind of thing.

You could speak to them from time to time about country, duty, and great righteousness.

You could not talk about those things endlessly.

Just as you would not stand beside an old farmer in his field and lecture him on the brushwork of landscape painting.

That was playing music to a cow.

Inside Great Yan, Zheng Fan stood at the summit.

But out here, with a lone army hanging deep inside enemy territory, he actually needed to coax his men even more.

And sure enough... the instant Prince Pingxi finished speaking, Chen Yang dropped to his knees and shouted:

“We are willing to follow Your Highness into Shangjing and capture the Qian Empress alive!”

The rest of the commanders immediately knelt as well and shouted together:

“We are willing to break Shangjing for Your Highness and capture the Qian Empress!”

“Break Shangjing! Capture the Qian Empress!”

By sunrise tomorrow, that slogan would spread through the entire army and become their shared spiritual objective for the next stage of the campaign.

Outside the hall...

Chen Xianba, Liu Dahu, and Zheng Man all clenched their fists, faces flushed.

Clearly, they too had been infected by the excitement and that magnificent objective.

At that moment... the Sword Saint’s figure quietly appeared behind them.

He had refused to stand guard at the door.

That did not mean he had gone far.

Heaven knew whether that Zheng bastard might somehow get himself into danger.

Listening to the shouts rolling out from the hall, then looking at his own son and the other two boys burning with excitement... that Zheng fellow truly knew how to seize the temperament of every person around him.

The Sword Saint’s figure gradually disappeared back into the darkness.

He shook his head slightly.

Then, in a tone carrying both disdain and mockery, said:

“Heh. No washing that reputation clean now.”

[End of Chapter 850]