The atmosphere inside the tent was completely different from the fierce fighting of a month ago, yet equally tense.
The charcoal fire burned brightly, dispelling the harsh cold of the border region but also making the air inside the tent somewhat suffocating.
At the head of the table, Feng Qinghe remained in her flowing blue armor, not changing her court attire despite the arrival of the imperial envoys, but simply draping a dark cloak over her shoulders.
Her expression was calm as she lightly tapped her fingertips on the large map spread out on the table.
On that map, newly marked boundaries clearly incorporated a large tract of land that originally belonged to Houxia into the territory of the Thirteen Alliances.
To the left of the lower seat sat a middle-aged man in a crimson official robe and a scholar’s cap.
He was Zhang Wenyuan, the Imperial Envoy and Minister of Foreign Affairs sent by the Great Zhou Dynasty and the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Rites.
He had a fair complexion and a neatly trimmed three-strand beard.
At this moment, he was holding an official porcelain cup, slowly skimming the tea foam.
However, his eyes kept glancing at the map and the excessively young and domineering female general in the main seat.
Several civil officials stood behind him, holding their breath.
Gu Anqi and Ah Chen remained in a corner of the tent, like two silent figures.
The small fire in front of Gu Anqi had gone out, and the medicine pot had been put away.
He sat quietly, while Ah Chen stood with his arms crossed against the tent, his eyes half-closed, as if he were resting.
However, the coldness emanating from him made the clerks brought by Zhang Wenyuan dare not approach him at all.
“Lord Zhang,” Feng Qinghe spoke first, breaking the silence.
Her voice was clear and melodious, without the slightest hint of pleasantries, “I am already aware of His Majesty’s intentions.
He is compassionate towards the soldiers on the border and wishes to use a policy of appeasement to quell the conflict as soon as possible and allow the people to live in peace.
His Majesty is wise.” Zhang Wenyuan put down his teacup, a formulaic smile spreading across his face.
His voice was smooth and pleasing: “Commander Feng is a man of great principle, a blessing to the court and a boon to the border.
His Majesty often says that Commander Feng, as a woman, guards the nation’s gates with great merit and hard work.
This time, she has accomplished another extraordinary feat, capturing Xia Jiyuan alive and enhancing our national prestige.
His Majesty must be overjoyed to hear of this.” He began by showering her with praise.
The tone shifted abruptly, becoming more candid: “However…
as Commander Feng knows, our Great Zhou is a celestial empire, a land of propriety.
In dealing with neighboring tribes, we have always prioritized benevolence and education over military conquest.
Although we have won this time, the Houxia tribe is also His Majesty’s subject.
If we demand excessive compensation, they might become desperate and act rashly, which would tarnish His Majesty’s reputation for benevolence and ensure that the border will never be peaceful.” He pointed to a large area on the map marked by Feng Qinghe, especially several lush and fertile lands: “In my humble opinion, as for ceding territory…
it should be symbolic, taking only three or five places to demonstrate the might of the Emperor.
The amount of reparations should also be reasonable, to show the magnanimity of our Celestial Empire.
In this way, we can both instill fear in the border regions and demonstrate the boundless grace of our Emperor, which is the way to ensure long-term stability.” His words, seemingly for the sake of the country and its people, actually revealed the court’s intention to limit the merits of border generals and prevent the rise of powerful regional warlords.
Feng Qinghe listened quietly, her face revealing neither joy nor anger.
Only when Lord Zhang spoke eloquently did the corner of her mouth twitch slightly, a vague and ambiguous gesture.
After he finished speaking, she neither refuted the proposal of “symbolic cession of territory” nor echoed the praise of “the Emperor’s boundless grace.” She simply picked up her half-warm teacup, slowly took a sip, and then raised her eyes, her voice flat and emotionless: “I understand what Lord Zhang means.
The court’s considerations have their own profound implications.” Her answer was perfectly watertight, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, as if she had merely heard something trivial.
She even wore a polite smile, yet it felt like a punch to a thick wad of cotton—suffocating and unsettling, yet impossible to find fault with.
He opened his mouth but could only stiffly bow, saying, “Commander Feng…is wise.” In the end, Zhang Wenyuan left with a belly full of unvented anger and a kind of inexplicable unease.
Silence returned to the tent, broken only by the occasional crackling of the charcoal fire.
Feng Qinghe did not continue with military affairs.
She sat quietly for a moment, tapping her fingertips unconsciously on the table, and then ordered outside the tent, “Bring Xia Jiyuan here.” Before long, two guards brought in Xia Jiyuan, who looked slightly haggard but still stubborn.
A month of imprisonment had worn down his spirit, but it had not diminished his stubbornness.
He glared at Feng Qinghe, his eyes filled with resentment and unwillingness.
Feng Qinghe dismissed her personal guards, leaving only the two of them in the tent, along with Gu Anqi and Achen, who seemed not to exist in the corner.
She did not sit in the main seat but casually leaned against a low couch covered with wolf skin, with a pot of freshly boiled tea beside her.
Her posture was relaxed, as if she were just inviting an old friend for a chat.
She didn’t look at Xia Jiyuan but poured herself a cup of tea.
In the rising steam, she spoke as if to herself, her voice as flat as if discussing the weather: “General Xia, would you like some tea?” Before Xia Jiyuan could react, she casually changed the subject, as if she had suddenly remembered an unimportant topic: “Oh, right, I just remembered someone.
In your Houxia region, besides you, who else can be considered a military talent?
Wang Tong…
General Wang, right?” Upon hearing the name “Wang Tong,” Xia Jiyuan was suddenly startled, his breath catching in his throat for a brief moment.
Feng Qinghe gently blew on the tea froth, not even lifting her eyelids, and continued in that casual tone, “There’s something you might not know.
The day after I invited you here, your General Wang Tong took over your command and moved into your residence.
He did it very quickly, without any delay.” She paused, took a sip of tea, and then slowly added, her tone carrying just the right amount of “sympathy” and “doubt”: “General Xia, do you think…
your emperor doesn’t value you much?” She finally raised her eyes, her gaze clear as she looked at Xia Jiyuan, her face filled with pure curiosity, as if she were genuinely seeking advice: “Look, I captured you alive, hoping to at least exchange some territory and silver for it, to make your emperor feel the pinch.
But it’s been over a month, and from your Houxia side, not a single envoy has come, not even a sparrow to inquire.
I’m really puzzled.
What…
what exactly do you mean by this?” “Do you think Xia Jiyuan isn’t worth the price?
Or do you think…
my blade, Feng Qinghe’s, isn’t sharp enough?” These words, like thorns, pierced Xia Jiyuan’s most vulnerable and least desirable places with pinpoint accuracy!
He first stared in disbelief, his face drained of color, his lips trembling as he tried to retort, “This is impossible!” But seeing Feng Qinghe’s confident yet nonchalant expression, a chill ran from his feet to the top of his head!
Wang Tong was his deputy, also a key figure being groomed by another faction in the court, with whom he had always been engaged in open and covert struggles… The Emperor’s delay in sending anyone to negotiate—could it be…?
The fear and anger of being abandoned in loyalty, denied in value, and replaced in status gnawed at his heart like a venomous snake.
All his toughness and persistence seemed to become laughable self-inflicted pain at this moment.
His originally straight spine visibly hunched over, and the resentment in his eyes was replaced by immense bewilderment and collapse.
Feng Qinghe took in his reaction, gently put down her teacup, stood up, walked to him, and looked down at this defeated general who seemed to have aged ten years in an instant.
Her voice remained calm, yet carried a chilling, all-seeing quality: “General Xia, it seems that in some people’s eyes, your life isn’t even worth as much as a stable.
Tell me, did I make a bad deal?” Xia Jiyuan suddenly looked up, his eyes bloodshot, and a hoarse sound came from his throat, but he couldn’t utter a single word.
Feng Qinghe straightened up, her tone indifferent: “Take him away.
Serve him well; don’t let our General Xia…
die here ‘worthless.'” The guards entered and dragged the distraught Xia Jiyuan away.
Silence returned to the tent.
Feng Qinghe’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried an undeniable, languid calculation, clearly audible in the flickering candlelight of the tent.
She gave instructions to her personal guard, Hongzhu, who stood beside her, her tone casual as if discussing a trivial matter: “Hongzhu, go and tell the brothers who are guarding General Xia.” She tapped her fingertips lightly on the table, but her gaze was fixed on the void, as if pondering, “The guards don’t need to be as tight as before.
General Xia is a guest after all.
If they are always restrained, his blood and qi will not circulate properly, which will not be good for his recovery.” She paused, then continued: “Let him move around a bit and get some fresh air.
As long as he doesn’t leave the camp, it’s fine for him to wander around and take a look.” Hongzhu bowed her head and accepted the order calmly, clearly already accustomed to Feng Shuai’s seemingly lenient but actually cunning methods.
However, Feng Qinghe didn’t finish her sentence.
Just as Hongzhu was about to turn and leave, she slowly added another sentence, her voice still gentle, yet like a soft knife, precisely drawing an invisible line: “However, remember—” She looked up at Hongzhu, her eyes clear and bright, with a faint smile that inexplicably sent chills down one’s spine.
” After the event, we’ll have to trouble the brothers to properly ‘invite’ our General Xia back.” “Yes, Commander Feng.
I understand.” Hongzhu understood, bowed again, and then quietly withdrew from the command tent.