When Liu Shi arrived again at the Ning’an Lord Manor’s estate, she heard a clamorous commotion from afar. Lifting the carriage curtain, she saw a group of mud-splattered men in coarse cloth gathered around a wrestling match on the threshing ground.
Under the vast sky and over the broad land, where withered weeds swayed, the men wrestled amid flying dust and sweat. A few chestnut trees at the edge of the threshing ground, unable to withstand the excitement, shed their leaves after a few struggles, as if eager to join the fray.
Frowning, Liu Shi initially deemed these rough men uncouth, but then she noticed a folding chair placed at the edge of the threshing ground. Seated upright upon it was a woman, attended by three or four maidservants standing cautiously behind her.
It was her dear A Qing.
Shen Shiqing, as pale-complexioned as ever and simply dressed, was watching the men wrestle with rapt attention, occasionally clapping and cheering. Liu Shi stared in disbelief, feeling as though her daughter resembled a delicate, snow-white orchid blooming beside a pigsty.
In such a setting, Liu Shi would never dream of showing her face. She directed the coachman to head toward the estate’s back entrance while sending a young maid to summon Shen Shiqing back immediately.
After all, she was a young lady from a generations-old scholarly family—what was she doing watching these mud-stained men tumbling in the dirt?
At the edge of the threshing ground, Zhao Su Rui, inhabiting Shen Shiqing’s body, cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Well done! Make it more exciting! I’ll add another two hundred… two taels of silver to the prize!”
No sooner had he spoken than he curled his lip in disdain. Two taels of silver—if thrown on the ground, even his chickens, dogs, cats, or rats wouldn’t bother to pick it up. If not for his current lack of funds, such a paltry sum would never be deemed worthy as a prize.
Then it occurred to him: fortunately, he was using Shen Shiqing’s body. If anyone was poor and shabby, it was Shen San Fei. Comforted by the thought that it was the Zhaode Emperor who felt aggrieved by the meager two-tael prize, he grabbed two peeled chestnuts from A Chi and popped them into his mouth.
The men before him were merely ordinary servants and tenants—hardly masters of martial arts. Even if four or five of them teamed up to attack Pei Feng and Tu Nan, they’d likely gain no advantage. But after being cooped up for days in a cramped courtyard where even a fart would hit the walls, Zhao Su Rui would have found entertainment in watching ants fight under a tree.
Of course, beyond mere amusement, he had another purpose. By dangling prizes to keep these men’s morale high, once the Ning’an Lord Manor’s people arrived from Yanjing, he could rally them with a single call. These blood-boiling men would then be at his disposal.
At that time, even if they lacked individual combat prowess, their competitive spirit would suffice to deal with the servants who had traveled all the way from Yanjing.
Back when he first led the imperial expedition to Jinyang, the local tens of thousands of garrison troops had been demoralized by defeats from the Du Qin tribe, rendering everyone from the commanding officers downward utterly useless.
At that time, he had few troops at his disposal. The Jinyang garrison, familiar with the Du Qin tribe’s tactics and having ventured deep into the grasslands multiple times, was the force he relied on most.
Thus, the eighteen-year-old, newly enthroned emperor—who had no reputation beyond a penchant for frivolity—set a prize of a hundred taels of gold, inciting fierce competition throughout the army. Within days, the entire court believed he had merely gone to Jinyang for amusement.
One day, on a feigned whim, he dismissed his generals and marshals, leading five thousand elite armored cavalrymen—already stirred by the promise of a hundred taels of gold—out of the city. The soldiers, thinking their youthful emperor was up to some new trick, followed him thirty li beyond Jinyang City. Across the riverbank, he pointed to a spot ten li away—the previously reconnoitered right flank of Du Qin’s Iron Bell Camp—and declared, “The first to seize their banner shall be rewarded with a thousand taels of gold.”
That was his first time on the battlefield. His five thousand troops routed two thousand enemy soldiers, and though he nearly died under the arrows of the Iron Bell commander, he cared not. Not only did he crush the right flank of the Iron Bell Camp, but he pursued the enemy for dozens of li, storming their main tent and startling the hundred-thousand-strong army in Jinyang City into a full-scale mobilization to protect him.
From then on, no one doubted his resolve to subjugate the Du Qin tribe.
Now, he was merely playing the same old tricks.
Hearing that Liu Shi had come again, Zhao Su Rui patted his clothes and stood up. “Continue your games. Those who participated today may each have a bowl of the pork stewing in that pot.”
“Thank you, Lady Shen!”
Hearing the men panting their gratitude, Zhao Su Rui waved a hand, left Pei Feng behind, and headed back to the Zhuangzi with Tu Nan and A Chi.
The embroidered shoes typically worn in women’s quarters were unfit for dirt paths. Instead, he wore half-boots with lambskin soles, hastily made overnight by A Chi and her maids. His attire was a plain long jacket with a diagonal collar, resembling a man’s Taoist robe. His hair was styled in a falling-horse bun, adorned only with a silver hairpin bearing a jade bead. He found this outfit convenient and unfeminine, yet to others, it lent Shen Shiqing—already pale as jade—an ethereal aura.
Liu Shi had arrived with some anger, vexed by “Shen Shiqing’s” lack of decorum. But seeing “her” stride in boldly, half her anger dissipated. She hurriedly relayed the news that Ning’an Bo Xie Wen Yuan had been imprisoned.
“Ha…” Zhao Su Rui couldn’t help but laugh aloud. He had thought Shen San Fei was as meek as a clay bodhisattva, but it turned out “he” had some spine after all.
“What crime has he been charged with? Beheading or extermination of three clans?”
“No verdict yet, only under discussion. Since His Majesty didn’t immediately order Xie Bo Ye executed, there might still be room for maneuver.”
Liu Shi paused after her hurried explanation, then asked, “Little A Qing, what… are your plans?”
“Plans? What is there to plan?”
“Little A Qing, on my way here, I carefully considered your situation. If you return to the Xie Family now, perhaps…”
“Return to the Xie Family? Why? To accompany them to the grave?” Zhao Su Rui sneered. In his eyes, the Xie Family was already a pile of severed heads—the only question was whether he or that Shen San Fei would wield the axe.
Liu Shi, however, seemed uncertain. She had learned of the matter because her husband warned her to cease contact with the Xie Family’s women and to recall the ten servants lent to Shen Shiqing. From her husband’s tone, it wasn’t that Ning’an Bo was necessarily doomed, but rather that he disdained Xie Wen Yuan for petitioning the emperor to execute Chen Shouzhang.
“Little A-Qing, listen to your aunt’s advice. If the Xie Family truly faces disaster, you are still a Xie Family wife after all. Even if… even if you manage to leave the Xie Family, how will you establish yourself afterward? It would be better to take a gamble. Since Feng Shi’s marriage with that Xie Feng’an is likely to fail, as long as the Xie Family can survive this crisis, they probably won’t force you out anymore. They might even respect you more for your righteousness. With that respect, you could still survive in the Xie Family.”
Liu Shi spoke earnestly, reaching to take Shen Shiqing’s hand, but it was avoided.
“Shen Shiqing” looked at her with a mocking smile:
“Aunt Liu, I don’t understand what you’re saying. What would I want with the respect of a bunch of dead people? So they can offer incense to me from the underworld?”
At this moment, Zhao Su Rui felt rising anger. Shen San Fei had stabbed herself with a hairpin just to fight for a chance. Though she was useless, she didn’t deserve to die. The Xie Family had tormented her and forced her out – they truly wanted her dead. And now she was supposed to go back?
“The entire Xie Family – alive they’re beasts, dead they’re evil spirits. If you threw their black hearts into the Yellow River, the stench would kill fish for eight hundred li. How could anyone expect Shen Shiqing to share weal and woe with such scum?”
“Little A-Qing…” Seeing “Shen Shiqing’s” increasingly resentful expression, Liu Shi sighed deeply. “How could I not know the Xie Family deserves death? How could I not know you hate them? But a married woman follows her husband – this has been the way since ancient times. If the Xie Family truly meets its end, even if you escape, where will you go? Return to the Shen Family and be forced by your uncles to marry into the Chu Family? I’ve carefully considered this for you. The Xie Family was previously blinded by the Feng Family’s wealth and prospects. Going through this ordeal might make them wake up. As the saying goes, sharing hardships makes true couples. That Xie Feng’an should realize who can truly spend a lifetime with him. You’re well-read – surely you know the story of Zhou Chu slaying the dragon and shooting the tiger to eliminate the ‘Three Scourges’? Once Zhou Chu awakened, he completely reformed himself…”
Zhao Su Rui stared fixedly at the Liu Shi before him.
His expression was as cold as frost-covered snow.
The last time someone dared spout such nonsense in front of him was during his triumphant personal campaign last year, when someone jumped out saying things like “be merciful when you can” and “a great nation’s virtue should grace the four seas.”
So-called “great nation’s virtue” meant having an emperor repeatedly watch his subjects get plundered by foreign tribes?!
So-called “grace the four seas” meant letting court officials feeding on government salaries say they should spare the butchers who slaughtered the people under their governance?!
What absurd nonsense!
Zhao Su Rui immediately demonstrated his “virtue” by having the nonsense-speaker dragged away on charges of “spreading heresy” and “delaying military operations.”
He didn’t kill him immediately, but tied him up at the front lines to serve as target practice for Moxi barbarians’ arrows.
The fool was surprisingly lucky – he didn’t die, but his courage was too small. By the time he was taken down, he was half-mad.
Grandiose words always come from the mouths of those pedantic scholars – but who truly sees the people who bled and lost their lives?
Furious beyond measure, Zhao Su Rui actually felt some admiration for Shen San Fei. With someone like Liu Shi around her, she hadn’t been angered to death – this breadth of mind was indeed “greater” than his.
“Even a vicious man like Zhou Chu wouldn’t think of killing a fatherless and motherless orphan girl, would he? If that Xie Feng’an were truly like Zhou Chu, he’d probably be eager to feed Shen Shiqing—a useless burden who brings him no power or wealth—to the tigers. And you still want her to return to that den of wolves and tigers? What? Are you waiting to collect her corpse only after she’s been devoured and torn apart by wolves?”
Zhao Su Rui lowered his eyes:
“In this world, those who collect corpses always have the best reputations… Before death, a person clings to the legs of passersby, wailing and struggling, covered in blood, and because their appearance is horrifying, they are despised. But once that person dies, the one who collects the corpse—the very same person who stood by and did nothing—instantly reaps the greatest benefit. After all, once a person dies, their mouth closes, and they become a mere merit ornament. Collecting the corpse is seen as an act of merit, praised by all.”
These words were undeniably cutting. Liu Shi took a step back, looking at Shen Shiqing in disbelief.
“A Qing… After all these years of friendship, how could you think of me this way?”
Zhao Su Rui lifted his head, his deep, tranquil eyes filled with bone-chilling coldness: “You’re overthinking it.”
Those four lightly spoken words felt like a mountain, crushing Liu Shi into silence.
“Shen Shiqing” slowly sat down on the wen chair, crossing one leg over the other. Her face was plain, her attire elegant, and her voice lacked the usual sweetness of most women. At this moment, “she” wore a radiant smile, yet it sent shivers down one’s spine:
“The passerby who idly waits to collect the corpse is wicked, but you—who don’t even understand collecting corpses and only urge others to die—are foolish. Foolishness is a hundred times more detestable than wickedness.”
Liu Shi stared at “Shen Shiqing”: “Shen Shiqing, how could you say such things? Have you forgotten all the care and affection I’ve shown you over the years? What sin have I committed to have my sincere heart insulted by a junior like you?!”
Having vented his anger with great satisfaction, Zhao Su Rui had no patience left to engage further with Liu Shi. Perhaps Liu Shi held some genuine affection for Shen Shiqing, but her muddled thinking could easily become a hindrance to Shen Shiqing’s actions.
Just like those foolish officials in court—they, too, held loyalty to Dayong.
But if one were to heed them, Dayong would have fallen eight hundred times over.
If not for the shred of sincerity in this Aunt Liu, he would have cut her down with a single stroke long ago.
“Tu Nan, escort Aunt Liu out.”
“Yes!”
“Enough! I don’t need you to see me out! Return the servants I lent you earlier—I’ll consider these years as having been blinded, thinking of you as Sister Ye’s daughter. I never expected you to be so heartless!”
Liu Shi refused to let Tu Nan touch her and turned to leave.
A Chi, seeing the two at such odds, hurriedly interjected: “Wait! Miss! You can’t let Madam Liu leave like this!”
Sitting in the chair, savoring the rare satisfaction of having vented thoroughly over the past few days, Zhao Su Rui cast a cold glance at A Chi. He was about to say, “If you can’t bear it, you can leave too,” when the delicate little servant girl loudly exclaimed:
“Miss, you lent Madam Liu three volumes of Annotations on the Masters and Compiled Examinations on the Water Classics!”
Just a few books—Zhao Su Rui thought the little maid was making a fuss over nothing. Waving his hand, still reveling in his satisfaction, he couldn’t be bothered to trouble himself with such trivial matters on behalf of Shen San Fei:
“Let it be. It’s a minor matter.”
“Miss! Those were books left to you by your father!”
Zhao Su Rui leisurely rose to his feet. As the ruler of a nation who possessed vast wealth, a few books meant little—he could always dispatch chickens, dogs, cats, and rats to retrieve new ones for Shen San Fei. Having just flaunted his authority, he refused to lose face over mere books.
Seeing her lady unmoved, A Chi restrained herself repeatedly until she could bear it no longer. She blurted out the most vulgar thought buried deep in her heart:
“Miss! Those books are rare editions—priceless treasures money can’t buy! They’re your foundational dowry!”
Zhao Su Rui looked up, recalling that the money he’d offered as a prize amounted to a mere two taels. He immediately spun around and rushed toward the door:
“Tu Nan! Make her return the books first!”
So valuable! He’d rather use them to fund troops and storm back to Ning’an Lord Manor than let such fools profit from them!