Chapter 16

Gu Wan fell asleep the moment her head touched the pillow, but Xie Ci lay awake.

It wasn’t just the dilemma that kept him up.

The faint traces of incense smoke still lingered as he stood in the small hall, gazing at the ancestral tablets inscribed with “Xie Men, Xinzhong Gong, Zi Xing, Zi Shen, Zi Bian.” He stood there for a long time before returning to the east wing, undressing, and lying down.

But even after a long while, sleep eluded him.

Since the upheaval in his family, Xie Ci’s sleep had been troubled. Through countless nights, sorrow churned within him, making rest impossible.

Tonight was no different.

He finally got up and changed into his light inner garments.

Unbeknownst to him, night had already fallen. The courtyard was silent, the air cool and clear as water. Xie Ci drew his long blade, the scabbard clattering to the ground as he gripped the hilt. The blade flashed silver-white, heavy as an abyss, cold as frost.

He practiced close combat with his short blade, then the sweeping strikes of his broadsword. At last, he tossed aside the long blade and picked up a solid wooden staff leaning against the wall, practicing with it as a spear. With a twist of his arm, he thrust the staff forward—thud, thud, thud, thud, thud—leaving five deep plum-blossom marks on the yellow wall!

His strength was mighty, his momentum fierce.

Xie Ci was always afraid he was not skilled enough, and had trained relentlessly for over half a year, never allowing himself to slacken.

Stepping into Suzhou, the bitterness inside him became almost tangible, pouring out with every strike of his arms.

Sweat streamed down his back, soaking his thin undershirt, but the cold wind did not chill him. He only stopped, panting, when he heard movement from Gu Wan’s room.

The moon was high above, casting a silver, eerie light on the courtyard. The young man’s breath was fiery, his gaze full of hatred.

Gu Wan pretended not to notice, smiled at him, and went to the kitchen to retrieve the steamed buns from the pot. She ate one herself and tossed the rest to him.

“I’m going to sleep. You should rest soon, too.”

“Okay.”

This was not the first time Xie Ci had practiced at night; Gu Wan understood. At his age, his appetite was bottomless, so she had prepared a late-night snack for him.

With a creak, the door to the west wing closed, followed by the sound of footsteps and then the rustle of blankets.

Xie Ci accepted the cotton-wrapped bundle and finally set the long staff down.

The night wind was cold, but he was burning hot, breathing heavily as he slowly tilted his head back, surveying the familiar yet foreign surroundings.

The northwest was a rugged land, with the courtyard’s window sills, brick walls, and tile roofs always covered in a layer of dust. From here, one could see the city walls, and he knew that in this season, standing atop them would offer a view of endless yellow earth.

He was a child of the capital, born at the height of the Xie family’s glory. His father always criticized him for being spoiled by the capital’s decadence, determined to train him. Xie Ci had been to the frontier three times.

The shortest stay was five or six months, the longest three years.

The first time he came, his father sternly disciplined him, making him run laps around the training ground until he was seething with anger. His father pointed at him with a slender bamboo whip and shouted, “A general must never succumb to anger! Remain calm—on the battlefield, never let rage cloud your mind!”

Xie Ci thought that if his father were here now, he would probably say, “Never let hatred cloud your mind!”

After a while, he touched his chest, remembering the small jade pendant shaped like a peach that used to hang there. He had always been quick-tempered, often arguing with his father and loving peaches. His eldest brother, with a gentle smile, had hung the cool little peach around his neck, patting his head and saying, “Little Four, whenever you’re angry, just touch this.”

Before he left, his mother had stroked his hair over and over, telling him to take care of himself.

A tightness gripped Xie Ci’s chest as he thought about these things again and again, until the hot, turbulent blood in his veins finally began to calm.

Feeling steadier, he cleaned the courtyard, poured cold water over himself, then took the cotton bundle and long blade inside.

But before entering, his gaze drifted to the darkened west wing, and he paused, thinking of Gu Wan.

He and Gu Wan had not been close before, but now she was the closest person to him.

He remembered the marriage arranged by their parents and the matchmaker.

Red lanterns hung high, half the city rejoicing, the young couple bowing before their elders.

That wedding had been the last time he saw his father.

It is said that parents’ love for their children is far-reaching.

Now, Xie Ci finally understood the depth of it.

But it was too late.

His father was gone.

On nights as lonely as water, Xie Ci could not help but feel regret. This wife, chosen by his parents, was lost because of his shortcomings.

He had failed his parents, especially his father, now gone forever.

He felt even more remorse toward Gu Wan, for those reckless words in their youth.

Her unwavering support and their journey across a thousand miles—thinking back on his foolishness, he felt utterly ashamed.

...

Closing the door, Gu Wan lay back down, listening to the rustle outside and sighing inwardly.

From books, she’d only known Xie Ci as the epitome of “thirty years east of the river, thirty years west—never underestimate a poor youth.” But only by living it did she realize how unimaginable his current hardships really were.

Alas.

...

At dawn the next day, sunlight gilded the treetops, bathing all of Suzhou in the golden glow of autumn.

Gu Wan didn’t know whether Xie Ci had slept at all, but his face betrayed nothing.

He seemed more somber than before.

The closer they drew to Suzhou, the darker his mood grew.

But when the two of them were together, he shed his bitterness and rage, leaving only sorrow.

They locked the door and went out to find breakfast on the street.

Gu Wan didn’t ask anything, but Xie Ci spoke first, “Yuanniang, I’m sorry.”

He looked up at her, his eyes like frosted rose petals, brimming with an inexpressible guilt—an apology for the things he’d said in their wedding chamber.

Only after all he’d been through did he truly realize how rare that hand extended to him in prison had been.

Gu Wan was a bit surprised, but quickly replied, “It’s all right, don’t think about it.”

The original Gu Wan had never blamed him.

Even to her dying moment, she did not regret marrying him.

The identity of a Gu family wife had given her belonging.

The vendor brought two steaming bowls of noodles. She broke apart a pair of wooden chopsticks and handed him a set. Halfway through her bowl, she paused thoughtfully, “Xie Ci, what kind of man is your uncle, really?”

She wanted to judge by the past—after all, no one can pretend for over a decade.

At this, Xie Ci looked dazed, then slowly said, “My uncle was always good to us.”

How good?

“He was like half a father.”

According to the custom, frontier generals would rotate back to the capital; border troops and capital troops exchanged posts. Before Xie Xinzhong commanded the entire Jing-Sui line as Grand Marshal of the Northern Frontier, he and Xun Rongbi were stationed alternately—one at the border, one in the capital.

When Xie Xinzhong was absent, Xun Rongbi took on the role of uncle and surrogate father, sometimes driven to exasperation by Xie Ci’s mischief, yet always earnest and patient, teaching him many lessons about life.

He found him martial instructors, taught him sword and spear, showed him how to earn honor on the battlefield.

To call him “half a father” was no exaggeration.

Gu Wan was astonished.

She looked at Xie Ci, whose youthful features were clouded with heavy, oppressive burdens, and felt her own heart grow heavy.

She sighed.

No wonder he hadn’t slept last night.

But she didn’t linger on this topic. Instead, she mused, “Why don’t we prepare the cosmetics first and tonight find two suitable deputy soldiers to take down?”

Xun Rongbi had little time left.

People in ancient times were adept at reading between the lines—if the memorial hinted at imminent death, then it truly meant days at most.

There was little time for Xie Ci to consider; their preparations had to begin at once.

Whether they would need to use them was another matter.

Gu Wan quickly finished her noodles, tossed a few large coins on the table, and pulled Xie Ci away. “Let’s go!”

She strode briskly, leading Xie Ci straight to the main street, surveying the outer defenses of the Governor’s Residence during the morning market bustle. When foot traffic thinned at midday, they searched the market for the cosmetics Gu Wan needed.

Then they returned to their small courtyard.

By then, another day had passed. Dusk descended, and Gu Wan listened intently. From next door came faint laughter, music, and the subtle fragrance of cosmetics.

She whispered, “Let’s go.”

...

The so-called “deputy soldiers” were an unofficial unit assigned mainly to logistical support—hauling grain, serving as laborers in wartime, and so on.

The Governor’s Residence had its own deputy soldiers to assist the guards, fill in for absentees, and serve as reserves. Their barracks were in the alley behind the residence, and they carried passes that allowed them into the outer precincts.

These positions were often given to relatives of fallen officers who were unfit for combat—an easy, lucrative posting, often filled by family connections.

Gu Wan and Xie Ci had already discussed how to infiltrate the Governor’s Residence or the army if needed.

Xie Ci, deeply familiar with military structures, immediately suggested the deputy soldiers.

As long as they got through the front gate, he could handle the rest.

“Regardless of whether we need to go in, let’s make sure this channel is open first!”

The Governor’s Residence was heavily guarded, as she’d already observed.

If not for Xie Ci’s knowledge of this loophole, things would have been much more difficult.

Time was running out for Xie Ci, but Gu Wan didn’t press him.

After eating a couple of buns by the wall, she braced herself and pulled Xie Ci over the fence.

They had rented this small courtyard precisely because next door was a high-end brothel.

Several large mansions had been connected to create an imitation of a southern water town, with pavilions and winding bridges. Red lanterns glowed, and courtesans dressed as proper wives or refined maidens lingered in the gardens, playing the zither or painting—creating the illusion of a domestic setting. Patrons wandered through, approaching whomever caught their eye—or, if they weren’t in the mood for pretenses, simply went straight to the point. This was a garrison town, after all, and many soldiers had little patience for subtlety.

Normally, military discipline forbade brothel visits, but deputy soldiers were an exception.

Once inside, Xie Ci hesitated. The plan was sound, but actually taking someone down would be tricky—apart from the private rooms, the winding bridges were too exposed.

Gu Wan chuckled, “Let me handle it!”

Xie Ci followed her into a waterside pavilion, keeping watch while Gu Wan busied herself with her disguise. Hearing the rustle of clothes, he was suddenly reminded, for some reason, of that moment in prison—when she had undressed him completely to tend his wounds, even stripping off his underclothes.

Even with his somber mood, he now felt as if he was burning up, blood rushing to his head. It took all his self-control not to cover himself.

“...Are you done? Someone’s coming!”

Their targets appeared—several young deputy soldiers, helmets in hand, laughing as they strolled through the moon gate, heading right down this corridor.

Gu Wan peeked over Xie Ci’s shoulder, “Damn, only one’s left!”

With a swift pull, she spun away from Xie Ci and darted out.

Only then did Xie Ci get a good look at her: she wore a half-sleeved skirt of red gauze, the sheer fabric draped over her fair collarbones; her hair styled in a loose knot at her temple; her makeup wine-red and alluring, a red rose between her lips—she was so bewitching she scarcely seemed the same person.

Xie Ci was stunned.

But Gu Wan, needing him as a prop, wrapped an arm around his waist, making Xie Ci immediately tense.

The young deputy soldier—obviously a pampered relative given the post—spotted them, his bored expression vanishing. He shoved aside the courtesan clinging to him, “You—go!”

He rushed over, and Gu Wan quickly drew him into the room, closing the door behind them. In the darkness, the young man realized something was wrong and struggled violently, but Xie Ci and Gu Wan pinned him down. Gu Wan pressed a drugged handkerchief over his nose and mouth, and in about a minute, he was unconscious, unharmed.

Xie Ci released him and gently laid him on the floor.

Next door, the sounds of pleasure drifted from the main hall—this waterside pavilion’s true business. Moonlight shone into the cramped dressing room, illuminating the youth lying silently, dressed in a Subei military uniform both familiar and strange to Xie Ci, who gazed at him with a hatred that cut to the bone.

He had always kept his composure. Even when Gu Wan could tell his mood was foul, he never let it show in front of her.

But now, hearing Gu Wan sigh softly, he felt a hand rest on his shoulder.

He looked up, fighting back the surge of emotion. His cold, star-like eyes were bloodshot.

Gu Wan's almond-shaped eyes were accentuated with vivid red makeup, peony petals blooming at the corners, but her gaze was clear and bright. “I want you to know, even if I had died at Tieling, I would not have regretted it.”

“Because the Xie family is the finest in all the world. The green hills are blessed to cradle loyal bones; every man of the Tan clan is a hero.”

She spoke the feelings of the original Gu Wan.

Not out of love, but pure, ardent admiration.

In this world, even if they died, even if they carried the stigma of guilt, there would always be some who remembered them—not everyone would be deceived.

She spoke softly, “They defended the country and dynasty for thirty years. Someone will remember them!”

In that instant,

As if struck by something, Xie Ci felt a wave of suffocating grief and dropped to his knees. He struggled to contain himself, covering his face with his hands, but tears poured down like rain.

He sobbed uncontrollably.

...

At last, Xie Ci wept.

His trembling frame was wracked with hoarse cries.

But after the tears, he quickly rose to his feet. “Yuanniang, I’ve decided. I’m going into the Governor’s Residence.”

His voice was hoarse, but his eyes were resolute, “I want to see—whether it was him or not!”

Xie Ci’s guard remained up, but he needed to know: Had the uncle who had been like half a father to him all his life truly plotted to bring ruin upon the Xie family?

Was all that affection, those years of brotherly love and care, real or false?

And, most importantly, Suzhou was where he had spent three years, the place he knew best, and the starting point of the "Lantian Treason Case." If he could not break through here, it would only be harder elsewhere.

He had come, unafraid of death.

Even if the Governor’s Residence were a dragon’s den, tonight he would face it!

In the dim dressing room, moonlight silent, rippling water reflected on Xie Ci’s brow and cheekbones. His eyes were still bloodshot, but his gaze was now resolute.

Like a tightly drawn bowstring, he had returned to the proper state—tense, but not to the point of breaking.

After he finished speaking,

Gu Wan immediately responded, “Good!”

These past days, she’d watched Xie Ci grow more and more taut, repeatedly reading and rereading the notes from his pouch, bottling up his emotions. This would not do; sooner or later, something would snap.

Often, it is not others who break a person, but themselves.

Seeing him finally break free from his tension, Gu Wan smiled—her timing had been just right.

She was genuinely happy for him. Xie Ci’s decision matched her own. She took out a delicate silver locket, shaped like a ball, and folded the two notes from his pouch into stars, slipping them inside. “Wear this, and stop reading those notes until they’re worn to shreds.”

Xie Ci nodded vigorously.

Gu Wan said, “If he’s a good man, we’ll save him—not betraying him or ourselves.”

“If not, then there’s nothing to regret.”

It had always been a narrow, perilous road, fraught with foreseeable dangers.

How could one—or even two—people overturn a case that could decide the fate of the nation so easily?

At last, she fastened the necklace around his neck. “Our uncles and cousins will watch over us!”

She smiled as she spoke. Bathed in moonlight and water’s shimmer, her features were serene and bright. In that moment, she seemed both a guide and a confidante, her gentle tone full of encouragement.

Like a river flowing under the moon—calm, steady, and natural.

Xie Ci clutched the silver locket at his throat, looking at her gentle smile, and felt a surge of hot blood and warmth rush through his body to his heart.

He nodded fiercely, “Yes!”

He gripped his blade, “If he’s betrayed me, I’ll kill him!!”

His heart was ablaze. He could not help but embrace Gu Wan tightly—some things did not bear repeating, but still, thank you.

Truly.

He held back, not daring to hug her too tightly, his fists clenched.

Gu Wan laughed, patting his back.

Young man, rise up!