Li Fuxiang headed to the Qingliang Mountain training ground, remembering, for once, that he still had soldiers stationed there.
The thousands of young men in the Xiaoqi Battalion, having been left to their own devices by their commander, were so startled at the sight of Li Fuxiang that they nearly failed to react.
A figure, arrogant and wild, dressed in black robes and riding a red horse, swept across the center of the training ground like a raging gale.
Zhan Ji frowned and turned his head. “Who is that? So unruly!”
The soldiers under his command looked equally bewildered.
Ji Wei was silent for a moment before raising his hand to deliver a heavy slap to the back of Zhan Ji’s head. “It’s our prince returning to the capital. Hurry up and go welcome him.”
Several cavalrymen let out a loud shout as they snapped out of their daze, mounted their horses, and gave chase.
Li Fuxiang, being pursued, happily and freely galloped around the mountain once. Meanwhile, back at the training ground, Ji Wei and Zhan Ji had already ordered wine, meat, and archery targets to be prepared, along with tests for the young men, awaiting their commander’s review.
The Xiaoqi Battalion was a well-disciplined group, as obedient as sheep, making them exceptionally easy to manage.
Dismounting, Li Fuxiang grabbed Ji Wei and gathered with a few junior officers of the army. His first words were: “Enough fooling around, everyone get ready to train.”
That single sentence wiped the smiles off the soldiers’ faces.
In the army, “get ready to train” was no simple command.
Ji Wei hurried after Li Fuxiang, tugging on his cloak and lowering his voice. “Your Highness, what’s going on? Are we preparing for war?”
Zhan Ji and several vice commanders also rushed over, staring expectantly.
Li Fuxiang merely said, “Start preparing.”
Ji Wei asked, “When?”
Li Fuxiang replied, “Anytime.”
Ji Wei was still confused. As far as he knew, there weren’t any signs of unrest anywhere.
Zhan Ji pressed on, “Aren’t the fox tribes and Xumo’er still at odds in the western borders? Like turtles catching fish, their fight will drag on for at least a year or two. What are you implying, Your Highness?”
Li Fuxiang, never one to mince words, replied, “The fox tribes won’t last another year, but Xumo’er’s ambitions will inevitably cross the Hucha Sea and invade our lands next year.”
He wasn’t speaking without evidence.
The Xiaoqi Battalion had already received the news days ago. Although Li Fuxiang’s earlier letters mentioned him staying in the Medicine Valley to escape the summer heat, in reality, he had secretly ventured to the western border for reconnaissance.
Clearly, there was something suspicious going on.
Ji Wei remained silent but had other thoughts swirling in his mind.
Zhan Ji noticed his absent-mindedness and jabbed him in the ribs. “Hey, what are you thinking about?!”
Ji Wei gazed ahead at Li Fuxiang’s back, who was surrounded by the crowd, and let out a worried sigh. “Prince Xiang is so distinguished and is poised to assume the Eastern Palace in due time. If war breaks out in the western border, will His Majesty still allow him to risk his life on the front lines?”
Zhan Ji fell silent.
From the moment Prince Xiang triumphantly returned to the capital two years ago, his fame and reputation had only grown under the emperor’s deliberate efforts. One day, he was destined to ascend to the throne of ten thousand chariots.
A noble son does not sit under a dangling beam.
When a dynasty isn’t facing a crisis threatening its very foundation, it’s unheard of for the emperor or crown prince to personally venture into danger.
Zhan Ji remarked, “What’s the point of thinking that far ahead? It’s useless. Our prince is a sensible man. How could he not understand all this? Since he’s already made his plans, we just need to follow his lead.”
Ji Wei let out a long sigh. “You’re right. I’m just getting old…”
Gao Yuexing waited at home all day, but Li Fuxiang never returned.
Instead, two young men from the Xiaoqi Battalion came by to deliver messages.
The first was to say he wouldn’t be home for lunch.
The second was to say he wouldn’t be home for dinner either.
As the sky darkened, Gao Yuexing inquired about Li Fuxiang’s whereabouts. He was told that after finishing up at the Qingliang Mountain training ground, Li Fuxiang had gone straight to General Zheng’s residence upon returning to the city. Realizing he must be attending to important matters, Gao Yuexing instructed the household to leave the door open for the prince at night while allowing everyone else to go about their business.
Unexpectedly, half an hour later, someone from General Zheng’s residence arrived with an invitation, addressed specifically to Gao Yuexing. It was from Madam Zheng, inviting Gao Yuexing to dine and enjoy the lanterns at their estate.
After tidying up slightly, Gao Yuexing boarded a carriage and set off.
Upon arrival at General Zheng’s residence, the two Zheng madams personally opened the main doors to welcome her. The moment Gao Yuexing stepped over the threshold, she was struck by the brilliance of the lantern-lit front hall, as bright as daylight.
Madam Zheng warmly took her hand and said, “I sent the invitation a bit late and didn’t know if the princess had already eaten. If not, the kitchen has food kept warm—just some homemade dishes that my sister-in-law and I personally prepared. If you have eaten, we can head to the backyard, where there’s wine and tea.”
Gao Yuexing caught the hint and replied, “I barely had a few bites of dinner, so I’m not really hungry now.”
The two Zheng madams exchanged a glance, thinking to themselves that, indeed, daughters raised in scholarly families carried a different demeanor. Though lacking the forthrightness of military families, she made up for it with her meticulousness and grace. Every word was carefully chosen, leaving no room for missteps, and her presence was as refreshing as a spring breeze.
Second Madam Zheng then suggested, “Since you’re not hungry, how about we try something else first? Our backyard training ground is quite spacious, and the men have been messing around there all afternoon. Would the princess be interested in taking a look?”
The suggestion hit the mark.
Without hesitation, Gao Yuexing nodded.
In the open-air training ground of the backyard, the light was even more dazzling. Torches encircled the field, burning brightly through the evening mist, as if determined to drive away all darkness.
From a distance, Gao Yuexing spotted Li Fuxiang on horseback.
The two Zheng brothers, each wielding a crimson-tasseled spear, charged toward Li Fuxiang. Without hesitation, they thrust their spears forward with great force, aiming at the openings on either side of Li Fuxiang.
Li Fuxiang leaned back, his seemingly slender waist bending like a supple bowstring drawn to its limit. With a swing of his blade, he angled it downward, stopping it just an inch before his nose, effortlessly deflecting the two crimson-tasseled spears that weighed like a thousand catties.
The clanging of metal rang out sharply.
Sparks nearly flew as blade and spear collided.
With a deft twist of his blade, Li Fuxiang flicked off the bright red tassels from the tips of the Zheng brothers’ spears.
Guiding his horse to turn around, Li Fuxiang applauded himself in celebration of his narrow victory in the round.
Madam Zheng clicked her tongue in exasperation. “Tch, tch, tch! Dusting my face with dirt! You boys have gone wild! Hurry up and come back for dinner!”
From the other side of the training ground, a hearty and vigorous laugh echoed. “Haha, good, good, good! Good kids, let’s all go home and eat.”
Gao Yuexing’s ears twitched. That voice—etched into her very bones—was one she could never forget.
Zheng Qianye, still hale and hearty in his old age, had a voice that carried strength and vitality. From just his tone, one could tell his body remained robust, and living past a hundred wouldn’t be out of the question.
As Li Fuxiang approached on horseback, Gao Yuexing found herself unable to look away.
His face was smudged with a few streaks of ash, and his jade-like countenance, illuminated by the firelight all around, seemed as though it would crash straight into Gao Yuexing’s heart. This scene, this moment, seemed to be melting into her very bones and blood, destined to remain unforgettable for a lifetime.
The martial field was no longer needed.
The Zheng family’s servants stepped forward in an orderly manner to extinguish the torches.
Behind Li Fuxiang, the flames went out one by one, as if the light of the heavens itself was gradually dimming.
Leaning down, Li Fuxiang handed his spoils of war—two Guanshan Ying ribbons—toward her.
Gao Yuexing cupped them in her hands and smiled at him.
Li Fuxiang had been frail since childhood, unable to train as freely and fiercely as other boys his age in the martial field.
Zheng Qianye couldn’t bear to see his own grandson become a useless man.
Every bit of strength and skill in Li Fuxiang’s body was painstakingly cultivated under Zheng Qianye’s watchful eye and utmost care.
In the Prince Xiang estate, every move was monitored—by the Imperial Guard, by the Jinyiwei. Ultimately, every piece of news was delivered straight to the emperor’s desk as soon as possible.
The emperor massaged his temples, troubled.
Li Fuxiang had just returned from the western border, yet he had already inspected the Xiaoqi Battalion, entered the Zheng family marshal’s residence, and participated in training at the martial field.
The emperor had already learned from Li Fuxiang about the events at the western border earlier that day.
The tiger cub had just grown its teeth and was eagerly searching for things to sink them into.
Late at night, the emperor, lonely in his solitude, realized the only person left by his side to have a proper conversation with was Xu Xiude.
The emperor sighed. “We’re going to war again…”
Xu Xiude, ever deferential, replied, “For now, it does not seem terribly urgent, Your Majesty. We still have time.”
The emperor said, “Back when I was still a prince, more than twenty years ago—I was just in my teens then—there was a great disaster. Xu Xiude, you must remember, don’t you?”
Xu Xiude replied, “I remember, Your Majesty. North of the Huai River—first came a major drought, followed by a great flood, and then a devastating epidemic.”
The emperor continued, “At that time, the western border was still at war. Those damned fox tribes sought to take advantage of our dynasty’s natural disaster to push the front lines eastward. It was Marshal Zheng who held the line at Xiang City, enduring for a full six months. During that time, they didn’t receive a single grain of court-supplied rations. The soldiers fought on empty stomachs, relying entirely on spoils seized from the fox tribes after victories and provisions spontaneously supplied by the people of Xiang City.”
Xu Xiude said, “Those years were indeed incredibly difficult.”
The emperor said, “That year, I couldn’t bear it anymore and personally traveled to the Huai River with silver in hand. Everywhere I looked, there were starving corpses. People were exchanging their children to eat. Before then, I had only read about such scenes in history books, but at that moment, I witnessed it with my own eyes. I carried a hundred taels of gold on me, but I couldn’t buy even a dou of rice. After returning to the capital, I petitioned the late emperor, requesting the Huai River region as my fief. The late emperor asked me, ‘That place is barren, disaster-prone, and far from prosperous. Why would you choose such a place?’ I replied, ‘I know my talents are shallow and my learning is limited. I am unfit for great responsibilities, but I wish to devote myself to ensuring the people within my fief are clothed and fed, never to suffer disaster again.’”
Xu Xiude said, “Precisely because of this, the late emperor saw your benevolence and compassion and ultimately ensured that you ascended to the throne.”
During the late emperor’s reign, the Great Xu Dynasty’s military strength was not particularly formidable. Yet, the late emperor was a belligerent man who enjoyed provoking conflicts, initiating wars at every turn. The western border troubles had existed for a long time, but the naval battles in the south and the turmoil in the northern wilderness were deliberately instigated by the late emperor. Each year, taxes grew heavier, and the burdens of labor became unbearable for the people. On average, every household had two or three male members forcibly conscripted into the army. Most of those conscripted never returned, meeting their end on the battlefield and being wrapped in burial shrouds.
In the end, the late emperor stood atop the city walls, gazing out at the shattered state of the kingdom. He must have regretted his actions deeply. Otherwise, he would not have used an iron fist to support his most benevolent and virtuous son—this emperor—to ascend the throne.
The emperor said, “I have been benevolent for too long. As a result, both within and outside the court, and even among the foreign nations, I am seen as a weak and sickly cat that anyone can toy with.”
Xu Xiude asked, “Does this mean Your Majesty supports going to war?”
The emperor replied, “I only wish to show them that we are not afraid of war.”
A new campaign in the western border was now unavoidable.
However, as it stood, the timing was still difficult to grasp.
By conventional logic, the conflict between Xumo’er and the fox tribes would inevitably deplete both sides significantly. Considering the current national strength and military capabilities of the Great Xu Dynasty, a barren foreign nation like theirs posed no real threat.
Perhaps there was no rush—waiting a few more years might still be possible.
But Gao Yuexing was consumed by daily anxiety.
Xumo’er might not dare to invade lightly for now, but a natural disaster was looming within their borders.
When internal crises arise, external threats are never far behind.