By the time Xiao Biehe finished his business, the cooks had already retired for the night. Unwilling to disturb them, he chose to skip eating. Returning to his quarters, he found the courtyard swallowed in darkness not a single lamp had been lit.
It made sense; since the age of seven, he had rarely lived in the General’s Manor. His courtyard had no assigned servants, let alone anyone to handle the daily cleaning or lighting.
He had initially wanted to ask for a tub of hot water, but seeing no one around, he waited until his legs regained a modicum of sensation before heading to the kitchen to light the stove and boil the water himself.
By then, the sky was beginning to brighten. A servant arriving early for kitchen duty rubbed his eyes, thinking he was seeing things. Recognizing the Young General, the servant bowed hurriedly. “If the Young General needs anything, you need only give the word!”
“It is fine,” Xiao Biehe replied softly. “I have finished.”
He moved to leave, carrying the hot water, but the servant noticed his gait was unsteady. The man rushed forward to take the wooden bucket. “Young General, let me carry that for you. Are you injured? Do you need me to fetch some medicine?”
Xiao Biehe started to refuse, but then reconsidered. He did, in fact, need medicine. He nodded. “Thank you.”
The servant didn’t ask for specifics. He simply gathered every type of wound medicine he could find. When the physician at the manor’s pharmacy heard the medicine was for the Young General, he didn’t hesitate, throwing open the doors to the storehouse and even offering to check on the Young General’s injuries personally.
The servant could only shake his head; he knew nothing. In the eyes of the staff, the Young General was a man of few words who preferred his own company and seemed to dislike being close to others.
Xiao Biehe was somewhat surprised by the abundance of medicine. He accepted them all and thanked the servant.
In the bath, the steam rose around him. Stripped of his robes, his skin was as pale as the finest white jade, though the beauty of his form was marred by a network of scars some old and faded, others fresh and scabbed.
Some were honors from the battlefield, where even a man of his skill could not escape the dance of blades. Others were the marks of his father’s “discipline” since childhood.
In the military camps, resources were scarce; medicine was a luxury used only when absolutely necessary. Thus, the scars had accumulated over the years. Most soldiers wore their scars like badges of honor, baring them proudly while drinking.
Xiao Biehe did not find them handsome. To him, they looked like snakes and insects crawling over his skin. At least, once he donned his robes, they were hidden from the world.
He applied the medicine specifically to his legs.
Back at the camp, he had once secretly asked a military physician about the symptoms why his legs felt like they were being pierced by needles whenever it snowed. After a careful examination, the physician’s face had turned pale. He warned that if Xiao Biehe did not take care, he would eventually lose the ability to walk entirely.
At the time, even the usually stoic Xiao Biehe had felt a flash of panic.
The hot water brought some color back to his skin. He stepped out, dressed in fresh robes, and began the painful process of treating his legs. One half was numb, the other felt as if bone-deep needles were being driven into him.
If my legs truly fail, he thought, I will no longer be able to go to the battlefield. There would be no more “Young General” for Great Liang. Perhaps then, Father would be kinder. Perhaps Mother would see me. Perhaps my brother would stop hating me.
And perhaps the Emperor and the Crown Prince would no longer be in such a hurry to eradicate the General’s Manor.
Xiao Biehe understood what his father did not: throughout history, a minister whose merit overshadowed his lord rarely met a good end. His father remained fiercely loyal, heart and soul, believing the Emperor would forever appreciate the Xiao family’s sacrifices.
He wondered if Xiao Jinshi had delivered the letter. Judging by the fact that his father hadn’t burst in to yell at him, he guessed the answer was no.
An hour later, the numbness in his legs had fully transitioned into familiar, sharp pain. His father called from outside. Xiao Biehe straightened his robes and stood up with great effort to head toward this “Hongmen Banquet.”
The Madam was still resting and generally disliked crowded events. Xiao Changfeng decided not to wake her; if the Emperor asked, he would simply say she was indisposed. He set off with his two sons and his adopted son.
Xiao Changfeng arrived at the palace gates carrying both glory and a sense of hidden shame. He was the most trusted martial official, a pillar of the state whose name was known by every commoner. Yet, he felt his eldest son had shamed him by returning without leave. He felt he had lost face before the entire court.
At the gates, they encountered other officials. One man smiled and hurried over. “Ah, General, Young General! It has been too long. The Young General’s grace is even more striking than before. General Xiao, you have truly raised a fine son! He must be of age now, when is the wedding with the Crown Prince? Don’t forget to invite me for a drink!”
Xiao Changfeng traded pleasantries, but beside him, Xiao Jinshi’s face darkened. He clenched his fists so hard his nails drew blood.
Xiao Qingqu, standing nearby, nudged his arm. “Brother Jinshi, what’s wrong with your hand?”
Jinshi snapped back to reality, realizing they weren’t alone. He took a sharp breath to steady himself, but seeing that Xiao Qingqu had also started wearing white robes similar to Xiao Biehe’s, his mood soured further. “It’s nothing,” he snapped.
Xiao Biehe noticed the injury. He had brought some medicine with him. Though it was just a scratch, he knew his younger brother had been pampered since birth and couldn’t compare to his own tolerance for pain. He handed a small bottle to Jinshi.
The official nearby watched the interaction and smiled at Xiao Changfeng. “The General is blessed with two fine sons, both talented and handsome. The Young General is not only the War God of Liang but also cares so much for his brother.”
Xiao Jinshi’s temper finally broke. He snatched the bottle and smashed it onto the ground.
“I said I’m fine! I don’t need your hypocritical pity! Yes, I’m inferior to you in every way are you satisfied now?”
Xiao Biehe had never thought that, but before he could explain, Jinshi had already run off.
The official looked awkward. “General, this is…”
“It is nothing,” Xiao Changfeng said coldly. “Just children bickering. Lord Du, let us head inside.” He turned a sharp, freezing gaze toward Xiao Biehe. “You upset him. Go and bring your brother back!”
Jinshi hadn’t run far. Xiao Biehe found him quickly. As he approached, Jinshi snapped a bamboo branch and lunged at him as if it were a sword.
Xiao Biehe instinctively dodged.
“You’re so powerful, aren’t you? Then duel me!” Jinshi shouted, the blood from his palm staining the bamboo. “Don’t worry, even if you kill me today, I won’t go crying to our parents!”
Seeing that Jinshi would not stop unless they fought, Xiao Biehe was forced to retaliate. Officials were not allowed to carry weapons into the palace, so while Jinshi used the bamboo, Xiao Biehe fought bare-handed.
“Use your full strength!” Jinshi roared, frustrated by Xiao Biehe’s restraint. “Don’t humiliate me by holding back!”
Xiao Biehe stopped holding back. Within moments, the bamboo snapped, and Jinshi was defeated. He stumbled and fell to the ground, though Xiao Biehe had ensured he wasn’t seriously hurt.
Xiao Biehe moved to help him up. Jinshi, having lost fair and square, accepted the defeat but couldn’t accept the reality. He had spent his life competing, yet his father always treated him like a child to be protected, while Xiao Biehe won all the glory.
As he took Xiao Biehe’s hand, Jinshi deliberately smeared the blood and dirt from his palm onto Xiao Biehe’s pristine white sleeve. Seeing the “snow” stained made him feel better.
He stood up and held out his hand again. “Got any more medicine?”
“I thought you didn’t want my medicine,” Xiao Biehe remarked.
“Hmph. If you won’t give it, then forget it.”
Xiao Biehe produced another small porcelain jar. Jinshi took it, wiped his hands on his clothes, applied the salve, and tossed the jar back. For a moment, he thought he smelled a faint scent of medicine coming from Xiao Biehe himself. He wondered if his brother was also injured, but quickly brushed the thought aside. Even if he’s hurt, what does it matter to me? It would be better if he just died.
“Did you deliver my letter to Father?” Xiao Biehe asked.
Jinshi smirked. “So what if I didn’t? I don’t like you; why should I help you? Not only did I not deliver it, but I might just give it to the Emperor at the banquet and let him charge you with treason.”
Xiao Biehe’s expression tightened. “If that letter falls into the Emperor’s hands, the entire manor will face disaster.”
“So what? You’re the one who caused it. Maybe the Emperor will reward me for being a whistle-blower.” Seeing a flicker of distress on his brother’s face at last, Jinshi tossed his hair and walked away.
Dozens of yards away, lounging on a tree branch, was a sturdy youth in red. With his arms tucked lazily behind his head, he watched the scene below.
His eyes were a deep, haunting sapphire the eyes of a demon capable of ensnaring a soul and devouring a heart. This “Male Demon,” Lu Guan’an, licked his teeth with the satisfaction of one who had tasted something sweet.
“What a beauty,” he whispered, his blue eyes narrowing comfortably. “It was worth the trip.”
“A pity, though… such a beauty is about to die.”