Chapter 5: Front Line

MEDICINE LEAKED from the corners of Shen Zechuan’s lips and soaked the front of his robe. The physician was so anxious he couldn’t mop the sweat from his brow fast enough. “If he can’t swallow the medicine, he’s not going to make it!”

Ge Qingqing watched Shen Zechuan with a hand on his scabbard. “Is there nothing else you can do?”

The physician’s hands trembled around the medicine bowl, the spoon clattering against the rim. He kowtowed, knocking his head against the ground. “It can’t be done! He won’t make it! My lord should prepare a straw mat for his burial with all haste.”

Ge Qingqing frowned. “Keep trying,” he said and turned to step out the door.

Just outside, Ji Lei stood by. Ge Qingqing bowed. “Your Excellency, the physician says he’s a goner.”

Ji Lei crushed a peanut shell in his hands and blew the dust away. “Has he breathed his last?”

“Still hanging on,” Ge Qingqing replied.

Ji Lei folded his hands behind his back. “Keep an eye on him. Make sure he signs the written confession before he croaks.”

Ge Qingqing nodded and watched Ji Lei leave. He stood in the courtyard for a moment, then turned to a subordinate beside him. “Call the footman over.”

A short while later, a hunch-backed footman wrapped in coarse linen pushed a cart into the courtyard. Night had fallen, and the Imperial Prison was under tight security. Ge Qingqing held the lantern up to scrutinize his face, then motioned for the man to follow him in.

The physician had left some time ago. A single oil lamp cast its glow over the room where Shen Zechuan lay on a cot, his face drained of color and his limbs cold as a corpse. Ge Qingqing stepped aside and said to the footman, “Ji-shu… he’s here.”

Slowly, the man stripped away the linen bundled around his head to reveal a face disfigured by fire. He stared at Shen Zechuan, took two steps forward, and stretched out a trembling hand to stroke Shen Zechuan’s hair. When he saw how thin and bloodied the young man was, he began to weep, tears shining on his scarred cheeks.

“Chuan-er,” Ji Gang whispered hoarsely, “Shifu is here!”

Ge Qingqing blew out the lamp. “Don’t worry, Ji-shu. Ever since the men from the prison learned he was your disciple, they’ve kept close watch. The interrogations looked harsh, but they didn’t inflict serious injury. For your sake, our brothers were careful with him during the flogging. Even twenty of those strikes wouldn’t have maimed him. But the eunuchs overseeing the punishment have sharp eyes; we didn’t dare make it obvious. Third Lady Hua came just in time; otherwise, Pan-gonggong would have gotten suspicious.”

“I will surely repay this kindness!” Tears streamed down Ji Gang’s careworn face. The years had been hard on him; his hair was already halfwhite.

“Ji-shu! How can you say that?” Ge Qingqing exclaimed. “What our brothers have repaid is the kindness of your guidance and the debt we owe you for saving our lives.” He sighed again. “Who could’ve expected a wild card to storm in out of the blue? That Second Young Master Xiao was aiming to kill with that kick. Ji-shu, can he be saved?”

Ji Gang felt Shen Zechuan’s pulse and forced a smile. “Good lad. He’s made the most of the techniques A-Mu taught him. He hasn’t reached the point of no return. Don’t be afraid, my child. Shifu is here!”

At the tender age of seven, Shen Zechuan had joined Ji Mu in learning martial arts from Ji Gang. Each strike in Ji-Style Boxing was aggressive; it had to be complemented with the Ji Clan’s mental cultivation techniques and could only be practiced by those with an indomitable will. Ji Gang had been a heavy drinker most of his life; after teaching the older son, he often forgot about the younger. But Ji Mu took his position as eldests eriously: every stance he learned, he taught his younger brother. Shen Zechuan had unexpectedly mastered the style over the years.

Ge Qingqing bent to take a look. “He’s still so young. I’m afraid his body will be permanently damaged after this ordeal. I’ve sent someone to brew another bowl of the physician’s prescription. See if you can get him to drink some, Ji-shu.”

Shen Zechuan’s throat was parched from fever.

His body ached all over, as if he was lying on the main thoroughfare of Qudu, crushed by every carriage that came and went. The pain was an inferno consuming his body. Lost in the darkness, he dreamed of snow fluttering in the air. He dreamed of Ji Mu’s blood, the freezing sinkhole, and the brutal kick from Xiao Chiye.

Ji Lei was right; he was better off dead. He had received this life from his father, Shen Wei, so now he had to receive his father’s death sentence. He took the fall in Shen Wei’s stead, the target of contempt from all the loyal souls who had perished. Having taken on these shackles, he was bound to drag their weight forever.

But he couldn’t take it lying down.

Someone pried his teeth apart and warmth rushed into his throat; the bitterness of the medicine made Shen Zechuan’s eyes water. He heard a familiar voice and struggled to open his eyes.

Ji Gang wiped the young man’s tears with callused fingers. “Chuan-er, it’s Shifu!”

A sob caught in Shen Zechuan’s throat; he choked out the medicin ealongside his tears. He hooked his finger on the hem of Ji Gang’s robe and gritted his teeth, fearing it was a fever dream.

Ji Gang turned his scarred face away from the light of the lamp. “You have to live, Chuan-er! You’re all I have left in this ignoble life.”

Tears poured from Shen Zechuan’s eyes and streamed down his cheeks. He looked up at the pitch-black ceiling and murmured, “Shifu…” The wind outside was howling. Shen Zechuan’s gaze gradually focused, and a ferocious glint appeared. “I won’t die,” he said hoarsely. “Shifu, I won’t die.”

The next day, the Xiande Emperor rewarded the troops with a feast. Besides providing for the Libei Armored Cavalry and Qidong Garrison Troops encamped outside the capital, the palace hosted a formal banquet for the commanders and generals, with court officials in attendance.

Arrayed in his court attire, Xiao Chiye overshadowed the delicate scholars around him as he took his seat. He, like the embroidered beasts clawing at the clouds on his robe, radiated intensity. Yet that careless persona reared its head again the moment he sat down.

The civil officials enjoying the wine couldn’t help stealing glances at Xiao Chiye. A tiger would not beget a dog; how was it that the Heir of Libei took after his father, but the younger son turned out like this?

Sharing an unspoken understanding, these officials began to pick apart Xiao Chiye’s every move. The air of wild frivolity emanating from him practically struck them across the face. In contrast, Xiao Jiming, sitting straight-backed in the seat of honor, might have come from a whole other world.

“Don’t think this doesn’t involve you,” Lu Guangbai remarked from his seat beside Xiao Chiye. “Since His Majesty rewarded you, he’s sure to call on you later.”

Xiao Chiye rotated some walnuts listlessly in his palm.

Lu Guangbai turned to look at him. “You went out drinking last night.”

“Just making merry before this Hongmen banquet.” Xiao Chiye sank shapelessly into his seat. “Now I’m ready. If anyone takes a swipe during the sword dance, I can enact a drunken rescue. Wouldn’t that be great?”

“Very well.” Lu Guangbai poured himself another cup, “but drinking is bad for your health. If you want to make your mark as a general, best give up this vice.”

Xiao Chiye sighed and tossed a walnut to Lu Guangbai. “I was born at the wrong time. With the Four Generals taking their places around the nation, there’s no room for me to play hero. If you ever find yourself unable to go on, let me know in advance—it won’t be too late for me to kick the habit then.”

“In that case, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait,” said Lu Guangbai, and they laughed together.

As the banquet went on, conversation turned to the Shen Clan of Zhongbo.

“Didn’t they say last night that the kid wouldn’t make it?” Lu Guangbai asked. He was listening attentively, the walnut still held in his hand.

Behind them, Zhao Hui answered in a hushed tone, “That’s right. Didn’t Gongzi say the kick was meant to send him to his grave?”

“Did I say that?” Xiao Chiye denied it, but the other two looked back at him in silence. “What?”

“He didn’t die,” Lu Guangbai pointed out.

“He didn’t die,” Zhao Hui repeated.

Xiao Chiye held their gazes. “So he’s tough. What does it have to do with me? Not like the King of Hell is my old man.”

“Let’s see what His Majesty has in store for him. The boy really is afighter.”

Lu Guangbai looked toward the front of the hall. Kneeling behind them, Zhao Hui ducked his head and applied himself to his meal. “Someone must be helping him in secret,” he said offhandedly.

“Even if he doesn’t die, he’s got to be broken beyond repair.” Xiao Chiye glanced coldly at the Hua Clan’s tables nearby. “The empress dowager is old. The most she can do now is devote herself to grooming a stray dog.”

“What a farce.” Zhao Hui somberly stuffed a spare rib into his mouth.

After a few rounds of toasts, when the atmosphere was relaxed and convivial, the Xiande Emperor spoke: “Jiming.”

Xiao Jiming rose to his feet and bowed, awaiting the emperor’spronouncement.

The emperor slumped in his throne as if he’d had one cup too many. “On the matter of Shen Wei’s failure—there is no conclusive evidence he colluded with the enemy. That Shen…”

“It’s Shen Zechuan, Your Majesty,” Pan Rugui bent over and whispered.

The emperor paused, but instead of continuing, he turned to the empress dowager and asked, “What does Imperial Mother think?”

A solemn silence descended over the hall as the entire court of civil and military officials lowered their heads to listen.

The empress dowager wore a wide band of fine black silk around her head, embroidered with cloud-dwelling dragons and dripping with strings of pearls. Pearl ropes hung from her ears on golden hooks, embellished with emerald leaves and capped with pearls as big as chestnuts. She was the picture of poise on her high seat, the streaks of frost in her glossy hair the final touch of dignity. Not a soul in the banquet hall dared raise their head to look at her.

“Our morale suffered a serious blow during the attack on Zhongbo because Shen Wei lost his nerve,” the empress dowager said. “But his fear of judgment led him to self-immolate, and his descendants have all died in the battle. Only this singular son of common birth is left. It goes against grace and righteousness to eradicate his entire clan. Why shouldn’t we preserve his life and teach him gratitude?”

The banquet hall was silent.

“This subject finds it inappropriate.” Lu Guangbai suddenly raised his voice. He took three steps forward and knelt in the middle of the hall. “Her Majesty is merciful, but Zhongbo is unlike battles past. Perhaps there is no evidence that Shen Wei colluded with the enemy, but the suspicion remains. This young man is Shen Wei’s last descendant. If he is allowed to survive, he may well live to become a serpent under our own roof.”

The empress dowager studied Lu Guangbai. “Your father, the Earl of Biansha, has guarded the desert for decades. Yet even he has not emerged victorious from every battle.”

“My father is not invincible,” Lu Guangbai replied. “Nevertheless, in the decades of his command, no enemy has penetrated so deep past the borders of the Bianjun Commandery.”

The pearls hanging from the empress dowager’s ears swayed gently. “It’s precisely for this reason that we must teach the child etiquette and virtue, so he may understand the disastrous consequences of this war. How easy it is to kill a man. The Biansha Horsemen trampled the fields of Zhongbo and slew tens of thousands of our people. We have yet to seek redress from them for the humiliation of our nation. What guilt could a castoff child have?”

“This subject finds it inappropriate as well.” The Deputy Grand Secretary of the Grand Secretariat, Hai Liangyi, had remained quiet all this while. Now he braced himself on the table to stand, then knelt before the throne. “Her Majesty is gracious and merciful, but this is no trivial matter. Even if Shen Wei did not conspire with the enemy, he still deserved a beheading after such a defeat. Moreover, this boy has been tried and interrogated thrice, and his statements are contradictory and illogical. He insists Shen Wei had no congress with the enemy. But as a son of common birth raised far from the manor, how would he know what Shen Wei did or did not do? The boy is cunning by nature and not to be trusted. General Lu is right: if we keep the last remnant of the Shen Clan alive, he will one day be a scourge under this very roof!”

The empress dowager was unruffled. “Please rise, Secretariat Elder Hai.”

Pan Rugui helped Hai Liangyi to his feet, and the empress dowage rcontinued. “It is as my dear ministers have said. It seems that my views have been colored by my feelings. I will leave the decision on this matter to His Majesty.”

Under the watchful eyes of the hall, the Xiande Emperor gave a sharp, feeble cough. He accepted the handkerchief Pan Rugui passed him and covered his mouth; only after a long silence did he speak. “What Imperial Mother says is not without merit. The boy himself is innocent. However, the fact remains that Shen Wei’s troops failed in their duty and abandoned their cities. This child carries the weight of his family’s guilt; as the sole living member of his clan, we will give him a chance to redeem himself. Ji Lei.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Confine the boy at the Temple of Guilt. Without our order, he is not to cross the threshold!”

Xiao Chiye tossed the crushed pieces of walnut onto his plate.

“Is Gongzi not eating that?” Zhao Hui asked.

“Broken and wasted,” Xiao Chiye said. “Who would want it?”

“Have not all sides been satisfied?” Zhao Hui said in a low voice, his eyes on Xiao Chiye’s plate. “We didn’t get what we wanted, but neither did they.”

“Caging him is preferable to freeing him, at least.” Lu Guangbai returned to his table.

“Not necessarily.” Xiao Chiye pointed to himself. “Am I not caged as well?”

“And thank goodness for that,” Lu Guangbai and Zhao Hui chimed in unison.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***