Even with all the hatred burning in Xie Ci’s chest, he could not help being shocked.
One must understand: when the twelve generals testified back then, it was impossible for all the frontier commanders to abandon their posts and travel to the capital to testify.
Instead, they submitted “evidence,” along with handwritten letters bearing both official and personal seals. The court then dispatched special envoys to question them directly, and afterward carried the evidence and letters back to present before the Three Departments and the Emperor himself.
But now, Xie Ci and Gu Wan discovered that more than two months before the Xie family’s downfall, Xie Ci’s eldest cousin and Xun Rongbi himself had already met with misfortune — their seals were being wielded by others!
If this was true, then could it be that Xun Xun had forged the so‑called handwritten letter?
On the third floor of the bustling tavern, voices roared, and the west wind whistled through the corridors. Gu Wan and Xie Ci exchanged a glance, his face instantly darkening.
Cao Yong hefted two large wine jars onto the central table, slapped open the clay seals, and asked curiously, “What’s wrong, brothers?”
Everyone turned, laughing and chatting, eager to hear.
The escort team had completed their delivery and were now feasting together in the tavern, pushing tables together.
Cao Yong, the young master of the escort bureau, was the one who had recruited Xie Ci and Gu Wan. He greatly admired the two, especially Xie Ci. On the road, they had faced bandits several times. Though Xie Ci kept himself restrained, he had still impressed Cao Yong deeply.
Gu Wan quickly smiled and said: “We just heard some big news. First time in Suzhou, everything feels new. The governor’s household has had it rough.”
She didn’t hide it, but answered loudly while subtly pulling Xie Ci closer to cover his expression. He lowered his eyes, concealing the look in them. The others chattered noisily, those who had been here last year agreeing it was true.
Gu Wan laughed it off, without probing further. The two moved their table over and sat down, letting the topic pass. Then Gu Wan requested a month’s leave: “Tomorrow we’ll go visit my relatives.”
On this northern journey, the two claimed to be a pair of orphaned brothers — their parents long dead, with no other kin — coming to Suzhou to seek relatives.
Cao Yong quickly asked: “Do you need me to lend a hand? What’s your relatives’ surname?”
Gu Wan smiled brightly and lied without blinking: “Surname Ma. No need for now, Young Master Cao. If we can’t find them later, we’ll come to you.”
“Alright then. If you’re short on money, just say the word! Come, drink!”
And so the topic passed. After some thought, the two decided to keep their names registered for the time being. Gu Wan lifted the bowl — nearly half the size of her head — and laughed: “Drink, drink!”
After the drinking, the two parted ways with the escort team. They walked along the main street. Suzhou City was vast and bustling.
Xie Ci led the way. They crossed from the west side of the city toward the east, until they reached the junction of the eastern and western military districts. Following the grand avenue that ran north to south, they walked to its end — there stood the Governor’s Mansion of Suzhou.
It was a lively thoroughfare, the very heart of Suzhou City. Apart from the central section, which was restricted, both ends connected to the eastern markets and streets, all thriving with prosperity.
At the start of the year, the court had issued a recruitment order. Now, in the autumn season of enlistment, not only were the two ends of the avenue crowded with people, carts, and vendors, but even the Governor’s Mansion bustled with traffic, far busier than usual.
Xie Ci and Gu Wan waited for about half an hour — until they finally saw what they had come to see.
From the gates of the Governor’s Mansion, two lines of armored soldiers rushed out. A dozen battalion commanders strode forth, vaulted onto their horses, and gathered before the entrance. The guards at the gate began driving away vendors and carts from both ends of the street, swiftly expanding the restricted zone until the entire avenue was cleared.
Moments later, a young man of about twenty‑five or twenty‑six emerged from the mansion. He wore russet armor, a helmet adorned with three red tassels, and at his waist hung a sword with a golden hilt and silver scabbard. Taking the reins, he mounted a magnificent chestnut steed, surrounded by the governor’s guards. The dozen battalion commanders immediately followed in his wake.
The group spurred their warhorses toward Suzhou’s military camp. It was only a fleeting glimpse before they vanished, and the central avenue quickly returned to normal.
Xie Ci stood where he was, the slanting afternoon sun dazzling. Half his face was lit by sunlight, half shadowed beneath the eaves. He raised his head and said: “On Xun Xun’s body — that is the Governor of Suzhou’s sword and insignia.”
Moreover, the way the generals greeted and surrounded him was the treatment reserved for the governor himself, the one who held supreme authority over Suzhou’s military and civil affairs.
And judging from the reaction of the guards and the vendors, this was already routine.
Xie Ci lowered his eyes, pondering for a moment: “Let’s go to the post station!”
Xie Ci and Gu Wan headed straight out of the city, soon finding a post station under Suzhou’s jurisdiction, in a place called Guan Town.
By then it was deep into the night, with only the west wind howling. Xie Ci and Gu Wan leaped through the window and began rummaging through chests and shelves, searching for copies of recent reports from the Governor’s Mansion.
The post stations under Suzhou’s jurisdiction bore the responsibility of posting proclamations for the people. These proclamations — called jigao — were notices and new regulations issued by the Governor’s Mansion.
Because Suzhou lay on the frontier and was often engaged in battles with foreign enemies, new developments could change quickly: proclamations to calm the populace after war, orders for rapid relocation to support military campaigns, directives to search for spies, and so on.
Sometimes speed was essential. Relying solely on county offices in the interior was no longer sufficient. Thus post stations were added to ensure orders spread like an extension of the governor’s arm.
Generally, these proclamations were drafted by clerks and stamped with the Governor’s seal. But if the order was of utmost importance, the governor himself would write it, with copies distributed to the post stations for posting.
Gu Wan lit a lamp. The two quickly found a camphorwood chest containing years of proclamations. On top lay the most recent stack.
Holding the lamp, Gu Wan watched as Xie Ci swiftly flipped through the copies. The ones from the year before last, the year before that, and even the first half of last year were all in Xun Rongbi’s bold, vigorous handwriting. But starting from June — specifically the third day of June — the handwriting changed. Clearly it belonged to another person. The strokes were noticeably thinner and sharper, resembling the *slender gold script*.
Gu Wan clicked her tongue in amazement. The calligraphy was impressive — indeed, geniuses were not limited to Emperor Huizong of Song. But their focus was not on the artistry.
By the dim lamplight, Xie Ci’s gaze was deep as an abyss. “From this document onward, it is not my uncle’s handwriting.”
Before, it had always been Xun Rongbi.
But after speaking, Xie Ci pressed his lips tightly, his expression darkening further. It revealed the complexity of his emotions.
Gu Wan sighed softly — it really did seem true.
Flipping to the end, they found the latest copy: Xun Xun, in a solemn tone, declaring that Xun Rongbi’s illness was severe and that his end was near.
In the small post station, only the howling wind could be heard. At last, Gu Wan rubbed her face and said: “Let’s first find a place to settle down before we talk further.”
Now things were becoming troublesome.
By the time they returned to Suzhou City, dawn had already broken. Gu Wan immediately found a broker and rented a small courtyard.
The courtyard was modest — one main room and two side wings, furnished with simple beds and tables. Bright sunlight fell across the front steps. Gu Wan closed the gate. “What do we do now?” She too felt it was a thorny problem.
It was now certain: this matter was real. Since last June, Xun Xun had held the seals and wielded authority. And the timing of Xun Rongbi and Xun Xiao’s misfortunes was far too coincidental. It was hard not to connect it to fratricide, imprisoning his father, seizing power and position!
This led to a critical possibility. Xun Rongbi and his son’s “accidents” had occurred in June, while the *Lantian Treason Case* broke out in August.
In other words, Xun Xun had likely long conspired with others, struck in one move to eliminate his father and brother, usurp power, and then frame the Xie family. After all, envoys could be bribed, and handwritten letters could be forged — and no one was easier to imitate than a son copying his father’s handwriting.
“But,” Xie Ci turned his head, his voice hoarse, “this could also be a trap.”
Gu Wan of course understood what he meant.
The Xie family had immense prestige in the army; their reputation towered, and the soldiers’ loyalty was unwavering. In the Great Wei military, their standing was like Yuan Longping in the hearts of modern common folk. For Xun Rongbi to avoid damage to his own authority by letting his son take the blame was not impossible. And it was precisely at the start of July that the first proclamation appeared, declaring Xun Rongbi’s illness had worsened.
The Xie family members had been rescued by Xie Ci and Gu Wan at the end of June. So yes — it could very well be a trap. A stratagem, lying in wait, jaws of the tiger opened wide.
Of course, it was also possible that Xun Xun had learned of Xie Ci’s prison break and the rescue of the Xie family, and used his father as part of a scheme — or sought to quickly erase loose ends. After all, this dynasty prided itself on ruling through filial piety.
If the truth were exposed, no matter how powerful his methods, Xun Xun would find it hard to survive politically.
Gu Wan thought the same. “So what do you think? Should we enter the Governor’s Mansion?”
If it was true, then Xie Ci still had an uncle waiting to be rescued. And if they succeeded in saving Xun Rongbi, their mission in Suzhou might suddenly become far simpler. Their ultimate goal was to clear the Xie family’s name and avenge them. This would finally give them a solid foothold. Such an opportunity might never come again. Even Gu Wan found it hard to judge and decide.
The late‑autumn wind was cold, carrying a dry, dusty scent as it whistled across the eaves and treetops. The moss on the roof tiles shook restlessly.
And they themselves were like that small tuft of moss — not knowing from which direction the storm would come, nor where they could take root.
Xie Ci’s expression was grave. No one knew Suzhou City better than he did. “Xun Rongbi has served as Governor of Suzhou and Military Commissioner of Pinglu for eight years, controlling both civil and military affairs here. Suzhou is one of the key frontier towns against the northern tribes, with forty thousand troops.”
Before them lay the vast Suzhou City, the domain the Xun family had cultivated for years. He was not alone.
As Xie Ci pondered this, he heard the sharp sound of a sword scabbard turning. He turned his head. In the sunlight stood the young girl with willow brows and almond eyes. She rose to her feet, placed her hand firmly on his shoulder, and said: “Don’t think so much. Just ask yourself — is it worth going in?”
Gu Wan tossed her silver sword lightly. She had thought it over for a long while, but the conditions were all laid out; weighing them further would not yield any clearer advantage.
Better to leave the choice to Xie Ci. After all, he understood these people and matters far better. As for her — she would risk her life to stand by him.
Yet though she said “risk her life,” Gu Wan was not truly worried. She felt no fear at all. Soldiers block soldiers, water stops water — even if the Governor’s Mansion was a trap, they would not fall straight to the bottom. Even if they entered, it didn’t mean they couldn’t escape.
After all, when people have something they seek, they will act. At worst, they would counter each move as it came.
It was a pity there was no “plot” to reference, but Gu Wan had never relied on a script to make her way.
Beneath the weathered eaves, the girl in her half‑worn blue robe stood before the mottled pillar. She clapped his shoulder decisively: “No matter what you choose, I’ll support you.”
After so long together, feelings had grown. Since they had come this far, there was nothing more to say.
“Offer incense to your father, then go to sleep.” The dappled light shifted; her voice was clear, softened a little, carrying comfort.
Xie Ci closed his eyes, exhaled a deep breath, and said: “Alright.”