SS CH35

The Great Chu dynasty had endured for three generations since its founding, spanning a mere sixty-eight years even by the most generous count. Yet, the Sanmei Academy, established by the High Emperor after the nation’s birth, had already stood for sixty-one years.

Its founder was the world-renowned “Southern Scholar,” Ruan Qingxing. Originally an editor in the former dynasty’s Hanlin Academy, he hailed from a fallen noble house. Benefiting from ancestral privilege, he entered the Hanlin Academy directly without sitting for the imperial examinations, serving as a tutor and lecturer to the late crown prince. At the age of twenty-three, when the old empire collapsed, Ruan Qingxing declined all offers of officialdom. Instead, he returned to his hometown to become a simple schoolmaster and founded the Sanmei Academy. Possessing rare talent and virtue, he spent seven years cultivating young minds, gradually transforming a tiny private school into a grand institution. He gathered disciples from all quarters, wrote extensively, and spread his benevolent influence across the realm. When one of his students placed top on the imperial examination roster in a single sitting, Ruan Qingxing’s name resounded through the imperial court once more. Because he resided permanently in the south, he became known as the “Southern Scholar.”

The High Emperor, thirsting for men of talent, personally visited him in disguise after his imperial summons was declined three times. Unable to refuse any longer, Ruan Qingxing finally paid his respects and returned to court. From then on, he rose through the ranks until he achieved the grand position of Prime Minister, eventually passing away from illness at the age of fifty-seven.

He never married in his lifetime, but he had a final, closest disciple whom he adopted as his legal son on his deathbed. He changed the boy’s surname to Ruan, named him Shen, and granted him the courtesy name Feiyu. Inheriting his mentor’s life’s work, Ruan Feiyu navigated both the imperial court and the martial world, serving as the tutor to the Crown Prince. When the current Emperor ascended the throne, Ruan Feiyu was appointed Prime Minister and spearheaded major legal reforms and institutional overhauls, becoming the new generation’s “Southern Scholar.” This year, he happened to be exactly fifty-seven years old himself.

“Six years ago, an earthquake struck right during the critical phase of implementing the New Laws. For a time, panic gripped the entire court and commonality alike. Some people seized the opportunity to stir up trouble, pointing their fingers directly at the reforms, claiming that altering the ancestral laws was an offense to heaven. They argued that the earthquake and the suffering of the common people were warnings from the heavens…” Ye Fusheng took a sip of the bitter medicinal broth, his face twisting into a grimace to match the taste. “At that time, the Son of Heaven’s wings were not yet fully grown, and he was heavily constrained by his ministers. He had no choice but to make concessions. Ruan Feiyu, serving as Prime Minister, feigned illness and resigned from office, leaving the execution of the New Laws to his disciples. This bought the Emperor a temporary breathing room. Over these past six years, he has cleared the court of its deeply entrenched corrupt elements. In the last two years, he has finally secured his throne a bit more firmly. It seems he intends to use the opportunity of reforming the Autumn Examinations to reinstate Ruan Feiyu.”

“You certainly know this in meticulous detail, even down to fathoming the Emperor’s private thoughts. It seems your ten years of accompanying the monarch were not spent in vain,” Chu Xiwei’s voice drifted back from the front, his body shifting slightly with the steady rhythm of his horse.

Sitting in the carriage, Ye Fusheng teased, “A-Yao, are you jealous?”

Chu Xiwei held back the urge to throw the rascal off his horse. He didn’t offer a reply, but merely reined in his mount and lifted his eyes to survey their surroundings.

Four days ago, Chu Xiwei had received a letter from the old Sect Master. He had no idea what kind of reckless audacity had possessed that young girl, or what unresolvable generational grievance she harbored, but she had actually taken two death-bound guards and run away from home, intending to cause trouble for this world-famous Southern Scholar.

Though Ruan Feiyu had resigned from office, anyone with a shred of sense knew he remained close to the Emperor’s heart. His resignation was merely a temporary political maneuver; he would return to power sooner or later. Furthermore, the Sanmei Academy held immense weight in the martial world. No one would seek trouble with him without a damn good reason, because the consequences of laying a hand on him would be more troublesome than poking a hornet’s nest of celestial proportions.

Even if the Hundred Ghosts Sect feared no faction in the martial world, they could not afford to completely disregard the imperial family.

The matter was urgent, yet they could not pursue her with any grand fanfare. Once word leaked out, it would easily be exploited by those with ulterior motives, creating complications that would prove far more troublesome. After careful consideration, Chu Xiwei found himself unable to trust anyone else with the task. Consequently, he sent Sun Minfeng and the others back to the Hundred Ghosts Sect, intending to slip away from prying eyes and retrieve the girl himself. However, finding a single person across the vast world was like searching for a needle in the ocean. Qin Lanshang had grown up in the Hundred Ghosts Sect since childhood; she knew exactly how to evade her own people’s tracking. Her flight from home was like a fish entering a vast river, presenting a genuinely massive headache.

Fortunately, while Chu Xiwei was at his wits’ end, there was still someone useful by his side.

The Southern Scholar’s identity was highly sensitive, and his whereabouts after his resignation were unknown. However, Ye Fusheng had served as the commander of the Lingying Guards for ten years. Most of the covert operations Emperor Chu Xun ordered had passed through his hands. Secretly contacting Ruan Feiyu to discuss strategies was a task he used to handle personally every so often. Though he had been away from the court for the past six years, the shadow of this Southern Scholar lingered behind every major upheaval, legal reform, and personnel reshuffle in the imperial ranks.

If the Lingying Guards were the hidden blade of the Son of Heaven, then the Southern Scholar was the Emperor’s most heavily relied-upon strategist.

Ruan Feiyu was a meticulous planner who never stayed in one place for more than half a year. Nearly a year had passed since Ye Fusheng last delivered a private imperial letter to him, so his previous refuge was naturally out of the question. After some thought, Ye Fusheng recalled that upon their last parting, Ruan Feiyu had picked up a brush and composed the Ode to Heroes, writing the lines: “The great river flows east, steeped in the blood of heroes; the grey heavens weep rain, shedding the tears of generals.” With that in mind, a specific location had crystallized in his thoughts.

On the remote northern frontier lay a place called “General Town.” Looking far out, one could see the Jinghan Pass, separated from the town by three great mountains. A single long river wound its way around, cutting straight from General Town to the lands beyond Jinghan Pass. Forty-five years ago, when the nine tribes of the Northern Barbarians launched a joint invasion, the soldiers of Great Chu fought a desperate resistance along this very river. Countless heroes’ bones turned to dust and their flesh to mud, their blood staining the long river and turning the waters crimson for a hundred miles. Upon their victory, the commanding general toasted his troops with a cup of wine and wept hot tears to offer sacrifice to the heroic spirits. Thus, the river earned the name “Hero River.”

General Town was situated in a bitter, frozen borderland—a desolate place where birds wouldn’t defecate and chickens wouldn’t lay eggs. Aside from profit-driven merchants and the generations of border-dwellers who called it home, it rarely saw any outsiders. Chu Xiwei had no intention of drawing attention, so he purchased a carriage laden with pelts, traded his fine robes for coarse cloth garments, and dressed as an eccentric shop-hand.

Ye Fusheng, on the other hand, had been bundled into a fine brocade cap and sable furs by Chu Xiwei. Holding a purple clay teapot filled with the medicinal broth left by the Ghost Physician, he looked every bit the wealthy merchant. Though the dynamic of this master and servant pair was somewhat eye-catching, it didn’t stir up any real trouble.

After making a show of handling some pelts, the two turned down a long street. The frost on the green flagstone paths had not yet thawed, and the shops on either side were mostly shuttered or entirely closed, presenting a rather bleak sight. However, in this desolate borderland, such a scene was perfectly normal.

They selected the liveliest tavern around. A brisk and capable proprietress welcomed them inside. Before they could even order their food, she served them a small dish of pickled radishes and a plate of peanuts. Ye Fusheng picked up a peanut and popped it into his mouth. Waving her over with a bright smile, he asked, “My good lady, what are your finest dishes and wines here?”

He possessed a naturally rakish and handsome countenance; when his peach-blossom eyes crinkled with amusement, they seemed full of radiant charm. Though he was currently wrapped in bulky, common furs, he didn’t look bloated at all; instead, the attire lent him an air of noble extravagance. The proprietress found her eyes wandering and hurriedly replied, “Dear guests, our Shaodaozi liquor is incredibly fierce, making it the most satisfying drink for this bitter cold weather. If you pair it with our roasted mutton and braised bone rack, why, that…”

She was speaking while stealing glances at him, but a hand suddenly reached over, ruthlessly shoving the fur cap on Ye Fusheng’s head downward to obscure more than half his face.

Chu Xiwei slid a pouch of silver coins across the table and said coldly, “Our manager has a weak constitution and cannot tolerate greasy, heavy foods. Just bring out some delicate dishes, whatever you have. There is no need for wine.”

His eyes covered by the cap, Ye Fusheng could only reach up to adjust it with a sigh of resignation. Naturally, he missed the way the proprietress’s smiling face turned deathly pale at the sight of this living Asura. She murmured her assent submissively and fled.

By the time Ye Fusheng finally managed to pull his cap up, the proprietress had already escaped as if fleeing for her life. Looking at Chu Xiwei’s face, which seemed as dark as spilled ink, he sighed. “A-Yao, one should treat a young maiden as gently and pleasantly as a spring breeze in the second month of the year, rather than looking like you’re about to strike them down with heavenly lightning.”

Chu Xiwei let out a cold scoff.

Ye Fusheng continued, “Besides, the wine cravings in my belly are about to turn into dragons and upend the seas, yet you won’t even let me order a drink!”

“While taking medicine, you must abstain from alcohol and greasy meats,” Chu Xiwei cast a sidelong glance at him. “Do not forget that your life is in my hands. Whatever I say, you must do.”

“And here you told them I’m the manager. To my eyes, A-Yao, you act more like a strict housekeeper,” Ye Fusheng shrugged, entirely unbothered. Just then, a waiter arrived carrying a tray to serve the food. Ye Fusheng glanced over and saw that the dishes were all simple, light farmhouse fare with barely a trace of oil or meat. His appetite vanished instantly. He called out to stop the waiter, “Little brother, wait a moment. I’d like to ask you about something.”

The tavern was quite busy outside, so the waiter wasn’t inclined to tarry. However, at the sight of the silver coin Chu Xiwei placed on the table, his face instantly bloomed into a compliant smile. “Sir, please ask away! Whatever you need!”

“Well, this matter… truth be told, it’s a family scandal that shouldn’t be aired in public…” Ye Fusheng put on an expression of deep embarrassment. His words were vague and ambiguous, precisely the kind of hook that best piqued a person’s curiosity. The waiter’s curiosity was thoroughly aroused, and he hurriedly said, “Sir, just speak your mind! I’ll tell you everything I know, and I swear I won’t breathe a word to anyone else!”

“Mmh, I can see you’re an honest man. Here, have a cup of water first.” Ye Fusheng poured a bowl of tea and handed it over. Seeing the waiter drink it down, he caught Chu Xiwei’s eye. The latter understood the signal, picked up his own tea bowl, and began to sip slowly.

“I have a younger sister who turned thirteen this year. She has been spoiled by our parents since childhood, leaving her with a rather willful disposition. Just a few days ago, she threw a tantrum because she wanted to go out and attend a school. But you know how the world is these days—whether it’s traveling merchants like us or shopkeepers like you, we’re all just scraping by to put food on the table. Where would we find the spare coin to send a girl to a private academy?” Ye Fusheng let out a deep sigh, his brow furrowing heavily. “Besides, the old saying goes, ‘A woman’s virtue lies in her lack of literary talent.’ When our parents were alive, they only permitted her to learn needlework and bookkeeping. What use is there in listening to all that Confucian babble? In the end, she ran away in a fit of pique, taking two family servants with her. She claimed that even if she had to work as a common laborer, she would find a master to teach her poetry and prose. I’ve been tracing her path all the way here, and I heard she headed in this direction. Little brother, have you seen her?”

The waiter listened with great satisfaction, turning the story over in his mind. He shook his head. “No, my memory is sharp—even if a guest has only visited once, I can remember exactly what flavors they prefer. But over the past fortnight, I haven’t seen any young lady matching your description. If she truly came to this town, she certainly hasn’t stepped into our shop. However…”

“However what?”

“However, if your sister truly came to this area seeking a master to study under, then I do know of something.” The waiter’s eyes darted around. “Just now you quoted that old saying about a woman’s virtue, and those are indeed the traditional ways. But we have an old scholar here who is incredibly learned. The families in town who can’t afford proper schooling all send their children to him for instruction. This old master doesn’t care about the difference between boys and girls; even our boss’s young daughter studied under him for a time, and now she can recite the Thousand Character Classic from memory. If your sister has taken up residence in this town, you might be able to gather some clues there.”

“Many thanks!” Ye Fusheng appeared overjoyed and quickly pressed further, “May I ask where this old master lives? How should I address him? I shall pay him a visit right after our meal!”

“The old master’s surname is Shen, and he lives in Yellow Flower Lane at the south of the town.” Pausing for a moment, the waiter added, “Come to think of it, it’s rather strange. The old master arrived here around the end of last year, and for months on end, not a single outsider came looking for him. Yet, over these past few days, several groups of people have come around asking about him. Just yesterday, someone even asked me if the master’s true surname was Ruan. Hah, I’ve never heard of such a thing. Who knows if they were just looking for the wrong person?”

Hearing this, Ye Fusheng and Chu Xiwei exchanged a look. Within those four eyes, a profound grimness settled.

Author’s Note:

“The great river flows east, steeped in the blood of heroes; the grey heavens weep rain, shedding the tears of generals” is adapted from Act IV of Guan Hanqing’s Yuan-dynasty opera The Single Sword Meeting (Dan Dao Hui).