UCTOOT CH122

Xie Wuchi went to receive the imperial edict. Bored and reluctant to part with him, Shi Shu held an umbrella and followed along to the Pacification Commission. With his shoes sloshing with muddy water, figures were emerging from the Commission onto the wet streets, clutching bundles and walking out the gates.

Shi Shu: “Dragging their families along—what are they doing? Where are they going?”

A guard replied, “The wine His Lordship drank last night was a farewell toast. Both the Pacification Commissioner of Yanzhou and the Camp Military Supervisor have been replaced with new appointees. The imperial decree arrived today.”

Pacification Commissioner? Shi Shu raised a brow: the Pacification Commissioner was a central bureaucrat dispatched to oversee local civil administration; the Camp Military Supervisor was one of the highest military officers sent by the court to oversee local forces.

With both replaced and new men installed to “coordinate,” the underlying implication required no explanation.

Before the entrance of the Pacification Commission, an oily, powder-faced eunuch hailing from the distant Eastern Capital was declaiming the decree with exaggerated cadence. As a military commander, Xie Wuchi rested one knee upon an embroidered cushion beside a stone lion baring ferocious fangs, bowing his head in silence as he listened.

Having read the edict regarding official appointments, the eunuch continued: “Lord Xie, His Majesty has an oral decree as well—’Beloved Minister Xie, how has your health fared of late? Since parting from the Eastern Capital, it has been nearly two years. Back then, you and Zhao Shirui reclaimed the ancestral lands of Dasheng Prefecture, establishing an extraordinary feat. Now you have even persuaded King Zhouchi of Beimin to surrender his prefectures, an unmatched achievement rivaling the Qin and Han emperors. We approve of your proposals, and considering your toil in the Northern Army, We have dispatched Our maternal uncle and nephew to assist you.’

“‘We have commanded them to form a division of troops from the Upper Four Armies of the Palace Command to proceed to Yanzhou at once. You possess military genius and grave capability; you must join hands with Our uncle and nephew in this grand undertaking and let them contribute their strength. As for seizing the prefectures, wait until they arrive in Yanzhou to deliberate before making any decisions.’

“‘By the way, your birthday passed recently. We have always remembered it. Aside from rewards to feast the troops, that patched monk’s robe you left behind when We sheltered you brothers at Xiangnan Temple still remains. Missing you dearly, We return it to you as well. May you never forget past grace. Respect this—'”

The eunuch lifted a monk’s robe from a sandalwood stand, saying: “Lord Xie, please receive this.”

A monk’s robe? Looking closely, Shi Shu saw it truly was the garment Xie Wuchi had worn at Xiangnan Temple. Dim lamps, yellow scrolls, a gray-robed monk. During his days and nights in the monastery, Xie Wuchi had worn this very robe, silently chanting Buddhist scriptures before ancient statues and reading by the lamplight.

This monk’s robe marked the origin of Xie Wuchi’s rise—meeting the Prince in the monastery, elevating him to the imperial throne, and leveraging the new Emperor’s favor to evolve from the sovereign’s personal executioner into a power capable of establishing an autonomous foothold in Yanzhou.

What does this mean? Sending a monk’s robe across thousands of li.

The decree-bearing eunuch had long discerned the subtleties within the imperial edict. At court, debate over the Northern Army raged fiercely: the pro-war faction praised him, while the conservatives reviled him. Yet His Majesty had ultimately issued a decree undermining the Northern Army’s foundation. With the military landscape shifting abruptly, seeing Xie Wuchi kneeling to receive the edict, the eunuch spoke with smug arrogance: “Lord Xie, please rise. Where has your estate arranged for our humble self to rest?”

An imperial envoy from the Eastern Capital could hardly be slighted, yet Xie Wuchi’s brow remained thoroughly detached as he rose slowly to his feet. Just then, Shi Shu heard the thunderous clop-clop-clop of hooves.

Dark clouds hung thick, rain pouring down in torrents.

Dozens of heavy cavalry clad in pitch-black armor surged from the end of the street, every man clutching a gleaming spear, their horses’ bridles radiating cold metallic luster. Across Changping and Xingu Prefectures, seeing the army was akin to seeing Xie Wuchi himself; from high officials and wealthy merchants down to common peasants, the sight of these troops struck sheer dread, setting knees trembling.

This was the heavy cavalry Xie Wuchi had honed to peak lethality. On an ancient battlefield, heavy cavalry was the supreme force; before such absolute power, any formation was destined to be pulverized.

Reining in his mount, the burly, formidable Ping Yichun swept in like a thunderbolt, riding this fiercely oppressive cavalry unit straight to the entrance of the Pacification Commission!

“Ah? Wh-What is this…”

Gazing at the grim, black iron cavalry, the eunuch’s legs turned to jelly: “X-Xie Controller General… What… what is this…? Could these riders be coming for our humble self…?”

“Pardon the disturbance to the Imperial Envoy; this official is deeply contrite.”

Xie Wuchi casually raised a hand. The vanguard general Ping Yichun, fierce as an infernal judge, hopped down from his saddle, splashing muddy water as he dropped to one knee in the rain: “My Lord! This general acknowledges his offense!”

Xie Wuchi asked evenly, “What business demands such haste?”

Ping Yichun: “Urgent military affairs in camp require Your Lordship’s immediate presence for council.”

“Mm,” Xie Wuchi said without looking back. “Pardon me, Imperial Envoy; this commander cannot keep you company.”

Without another glance at the pampered eunuchs from the Eastern Capital, Ping Yichun stepped forward to hold his stirrup. Xie Wuchi swung into the saddle and galloped out into the pouring rain toward the city gates, leaving behind the dumbfounded eunuch and his retinue.

“…”

You and your impeccable posturing again.

Sitting beneath an awning at a tofu stall sipping spicy jellied bean curd, Shi Shu watched Xie Wuchi depart. The eunuch had instantly shrunk into meek submission, at a total loss for words, understanding that he had better behave with utmost propriety. Finishing his breakfast, Shi Shu hurried to meet Du Zihan, after which they headed together toward the encampment outside the city.

The rain poured in sheets. After this downpour, each passing day would only grow colder.

Reaching the barracks, Shi Shu assisted Lin Yangchun in disseminating advanced medical practices throughout the encampment, occasionally checking on military agriculture.

The identity of Xie Wuchi’s younger brother brought him numerous privileges as well as endless headaches. Smiling faces surrounded him, yet felt alien; people seeking favors and connections multiplied. After roaming around with Lin Yangchun, Shi Shu had grown wise, keeping his identity concealed—to the point that sneaking into Xie Wuchi’s central command tent felt like conducting a covert affair.

“Xiao Shu! It’s pouring rain, and several cartloads of garden burnet were scheduled for delivery today. They’re stuck midway in the storm—if they get soaked, they’ll rot and mildew!” Lin Baihe called out.

Shi Shu: “Let’s go then. Haul the herbs back.”

Leading a group outside the stockade, the mud roads were indeed a disaster in the downpour. The cart wheels had sunk deep into the mire, and the draft horse had slipped and fallen, panting in the mud looking thoroughly miserable.

Shi Shu called, “Hurry, quick, heave the cart out!”

Circling the wagon in the rain, after an arduous struggle, they managed to pry the wheels out of the sludge, allowing the horse to get back on its feet. Drenched in sweat, Shi Shu used a cloth to wipe the mud from its back: “Tired, horse bro? Once you haul this cart of medicine back, I’ll feed you beans, okay?”

Before he could wipe twice, Lin Yangchun’s frantic holler rang out: “What are you doing?! Move the herbs, hurry! Every wagonload is pure silver! Do you know how many lives this will save? Do you know how much is ruined by the rain?! You—”

Shi Shu hastily scrambled onto the cart to drive. Du Zihan remarked, “Xiao Shu-bao, how are you any different from that lab mate of mine who drove a Maybach to our group meetings? The pittance you earn doesn’t even cover the gas!”

Shi Shu: “If I don’t work, what else would I do?”

Du Zihan: “Fair point. No job is superior to another; our collective labor shapes this world.”

Shi Shu: “Zihan, we can’t take the civil service exam anymore. Let it go.”

“…………” Du Zihan grunted, “Shi Shu, I hate you.”

After moving the herbs to the storehouse to dry, Shi Shu went specifically to check on Laicai. When traveling with Du Zihan previously, fearing Laicai would be stolen, he had boarded him at a tile kiln in Senzhou; upon returning to Yanzhou, he had sent someone to redeem him and brought him back.

By the time Shi Shu finished his chores, evening had fallen. Du Zihan went to look for Song Sinan, while Shi Shu headed toward Xie Wuchi’s command tent.

With shifting variables of late, the military camp was noticeably more rushed. Xie Wuchi was holding councils in the main tent, martial commanders gathered in force, a tense air permeating the atmosphere.

Shi Shu had seen Xie Wuchi leave at the tofu stall that morning, and only by dusk did Xie Wuchi return through the torrential rain. Atop his tall warhorse outside the camp gates, draped in an oilskin raincoat, dark streaks of water slid down his chiseled nose to his sharp jawline, cold mist clinging to his eyelashes.

Having just tidied up, Shi Shu dashed over holding an umbrella: “Brother Xie, you’re back!”

Shi Shu grinned brightly, only to pause a moment later—smiling way too sweet, bro. Are you still a guy? That face…

Drenched in rain, Xie Wuchi was conferring with his officers. Ping Yichun said, “King Zhouchi has dispatched multiple missives. He is currently suppressing word of Yinkun and stalling the Grand Sovereign of the Min. If we do not make a swift decision, I fear complications will arise from the delay.”

Xie Wuchi: “Mobilizing troops without imperial decree—even if it yielded peerless merit—would mean overshadowing the sovereign. One would not live long after.”

Another general, Xi Xin, garrisoned the mountain passes; if war were waged, troops would have to pass through his post. He cursed impatiently: “His grandmother’s! How long have we waited for this opportunity?! Our Lord went deep into Min territory in person to negotiate this, and the higher-ups just say no? Drag it out any longer and Dajing might as well perish! Speed is paramount in war—what do those pampered royals in the capital know about warfare?! Huh?!”

Lin Yan pacified him: “General Xi, do not be rash. His Majesty has dispatched a Pacification Commissioner and Army Supervisors. Once the Emperor’s Father-in-law arrives, we can deliberate and deploy.”

“And how long will that take? Besides, back in Yunzhou,” Ping Yichun pointed out, “the Father-in-law’s eldest son died at the hands of dancing girls. Isn’t sending him here just looking to cause trouble?”

“…”

Having dismounted, they continued arguing. Xie Wuchi raised a hand, his face shadowed with annoyance at the clamor: “All of you return, eat first, and we will deliberate later tonight.”

Muttering among themselves, the generals departed. Xie Wuchi stepped into the tent dripping with rainwater. Handing him a dry towel, Shi Shu smiled brightly: “Wipe off the water; you’re soaked to the bone.”

Tsk, such familiar words—who said that before? Shi Shu caught his own train of thought. Taking the towel, Xie Wuchi wiped down the water, shivering slightly from hypothermia. Fortunately, attendants outside carried in steaming bucketfuls of hot water.

Stepping into the bath, surrounded by rising steam, Shi Shu pulled up a small stool to sit beside the tub, watching the condensation bead across his shoulders: “You were caught in the rain for so long; soak in the hot bath quickly, or you might catch a cold.”

Deep in contemplation, Xie Wuchi took Shi Shu’s wrist in his hand: “Though Emperor Chu Wei may not outright suspect me of treason, he is cracking the whip. Sending this monk’s robe means exactly that: betraying imperial grace, intolerable to the world. Ha.”

Xie Wuchi let out a soft sneer. Were it not for transmigrating into an ancient dynasty, why would he ever need to borrow his authority?

Shi Shu: “You’re taking a bath and still thinking about work—does clocking out not exist for you?”

Xie Wuchi: “If I unify Jing and Min, the sheer weight of such merit will terrify the civil and military court, drawing the hearts of all the realm’s commoners to me. How could he permit me to establish such peerless achievement when the Northern Army has already grown so formidable?”

Imagine: when commoners across the realm sang of the scimitar-wielding menace that had harassed their borders for generations now being subdued by Controller General Xie of the Northern Army, reduced to imperial subjects—what monumental public devotion that would command.

To put it plainly, expanding the realm and unifying two territories rivaled the deeds of the First Emperor of Qin. Etched into grand history books without end, it was an achievement that could immortalize any emperor’s reign in glory!

Dabbing with a warm cloth, Shi Shu noticed a healing nick near Xie Wuchi’s collarbone and gently touched it: “How… is he trying to stop you?”

“The Emperor will certainly see this campaign through, but he cannot stomach me taking primary credit. So he dispatched his uncle to snatch the glory. These entrenched, cunning bureaucrats excel at claiming others’ blood-soaked merits as their own without lifting a finger, relying solely on shameless brass to distort truth.” Xie Wuchi continued, “His Majesty ordering me to hold our troops and forbidding cross-border mobilization until their arrival gives them precisely that window. In annexing King Zhouchi’s lands, victory will be credited to them, while defeat will be pinned squarely on me.”

Shi Shu was thoroughly outraged: “My hard work is in that too! What does it have to do with those bastards in the Eastern Capital?”

Xie Wuchi: “Right now, His Majesty forbids me from mobilizing, yet King Zhouchi presses with mounting urgency—”

The oral decree had sounded amicable, but the written edict was razor-sharp. If Xie Wuchi advanced to coordinate with King Zhouchi before the imperial reinforcements arrived, he would be punished under military law, or even branded a traitor colluding with the enemy.

Grasping Shi Shu’s hand, Xie Wuchi kissed it softly: “The front lines shift in the blink of an eye. If he tells me not to advance, I simply obey? Finding a pretext to wage war is trivial.”

Lowering his voice, Xie Wuchi said: “The credit that belongs to you—no one can take it away.”

Having soaked until the chill was purged from his bones, Xie Wuchi rose from the bath. Taking a dry towel draped over the screen, Shi Shu wiped the water from his skin inch by inch.

It wasn’t that Shi Shu loved wiping him down, but rather that Xie Wuchi loved Shi Shu treating him with care.

The moment their gazes locked, Shi Shu was swept into his arms, scooped up by the waist, and carried straight to bed.