Han Qing arrived at Chenliu on the second day after the Thousand-Scholar Anthology began—also the day with the largest number of arrivals.

Like everyone else, he checked in step by step, watched performances, reported to the plaza daily, and strolled around Baibao Street from time to time. The only slightly suspicious thing was that he didn’t participate in the quiz sessions of the anthology, but there were many people like him—merely observing without getting involved—so he didn’t attract any attention.

Han Qing was fairly good-looking, though nowhere near the level of Xiao Rong. In fact, he couldn’t even be considered a standard handsome man. Yet he had a unique aura that made everyone who met him instinctively trust and obey him.

Thanks to his face, he blended in easily wherever he went. While others might need an hour of effort to do the same, he only needed to say a few words. Naturally, he made the most of this gift. From his teenage years, he had been a novice monk, and later a Taoist priest. Those religions weren’t what he truly desired—they were too scattered. Despite their power, it was never centralized.

In contrast, the Qingfeng Sect suited him well. Its pyramid structure allowed whoever reached the top to command the entire sect in the name of the leader.

Despite this, nothing in the world was perfect. Though he liked the structure of the Qingfeng Sect, he disliked the fool who sat at the top.

…

To be fair, Chen Jiancheng did have some skills, but he was arrogant and looked down on his followers. Without Han Qing’s help, the Elders would’ve already overthrown him multiple times. In the early stages of the uprising, Chen Jiancheng needed a powerful yet obedient backer, and Han Qing, being self-aware, knew that although he was smart, he was a penniless nobody. A clever woman cannot cook without rice—without help, he couldn’t achieve his ambitions.

Moreover, Han Qing was extremely patient. He saw that the tides of the world were shifting and also knew that to secure a kingdom, one needed more than just soldiers and wisdom—the most crucial element was timing.

Most people aiming for greatness were like Chen Jiancheng—constantly dreaming of ascending the throne and eager to fast-forward the process to sit on the dragon chair the very next day. Han Qing didn’t think that way. First, he wasn’t vain, the throne didn’t matter much to him. What he truly enjoyed was the feeling of manipulating the entire realm at his fingertips. Second, he could wait. Be it a few years or a few decades, it made no difference to him. If he only intended to do one thing in his lifetime, then why rush? Wouldn’t it be better to proceed slowly and enjoy the journey?

…

That said, things couldn’t move too slowly. In the past few years, the Northern Army expanded like an inflated balloon. In the blink of an eye, Qu Yunmie and his forces had become so formidable that even Nanyong didn’t dare act rashly. If they were allowed to keep growing, they might end up pacifying the entire realm.

Han Qing wasn’t afraid of peace. Even if Qu Yunmie unified the North and South, that peace wouldn’t last long. Qu Yunmie was harsh to subordinates, vengeful, and murderous. A man like that wouldn’t be able to keep the throne—he might not even make it onto the throne at all.

Still, Han Qing ordered Chen Jiancheng to recruit Li Xiuheng, spread anti-Northern Army King rhymes, cooperate with the Xianbei, and try to make Qu Yunmie lose both public support and the loyalty of his army.

The reason was simple. Even if this tiger walking on the icy river in March might slip and fall into a crack-filled pit at any moment, it was still a tiger. If the ice didn’t kill it, the people on the shore would suffer instead.

So why take chances? Rather than waiting for Qu Yunmie to walk himself to ruin, it was better to give him a push from behind. In a chaotic world full of talented individuals, someone like Qu Yunmie—unmatched in martial strength and completely uncontrollable—should be eliminated as early as possible.

That, at least, was what Han Qing thought before he came to Chenliu.

After staying in Chenliu for over a month, Han Qing’s view shifted from thinking Qu Yunmie was a danger, to believing he must be killed.

…

It was all because of what he saw and heard in Chenliu. The Northern King had started attracting scholars and subtly changing their attitudes toward him. He ran Chenliu seriously, improved military-civilian relations—but what alarmed Han Qing the most were the notice boards seen everywhere.

What did the setting up of notice boards mean? It meant the ruler of Chenliu was willing to make all his policies public. It meant that instead of merely managing the people, he preferred to educate them. It also meant he was testing the waters and gently revealing that he didn’t mind ordinary folk learning to read and write.

It started with reading notices—who could say what would come next?

After such a long stay, Han Qing of course knew that those notice boards weren’t set up by Qu Yunmie, but by Xiao Rong, the Governor of Chenliu. Compared to the always high-profile Northern King, this Governor remained very low-key. Aside from appearing at the royal palace in Jinling, he kept a low profile even in his own Chenliu. Many locals had never seen him, only knowing that this Governor Xiao seemed like someone who walked out of a painting—stunningly beautiful.

There were people in the world who didn’t seek fame or wealth, but someone who did his duties as a public servant while excessively shunning fame could only mean one thing—he wasn’t doing it for himself.

He wanted to downplay his own presence and project all the good reputation onto Qu Yunmie. No matter what document was issued, the first name signed was always the Northern King. He was so wholeheartedly devoted to Qu Yunmie that even someone like Han Qing, who had never met him, could see his sincerity.

So Han Qing believed he had to seize this chance—to make the Northern King disappear from the world.

The Northern King used to be a tiger on a cracking icy river, but with Xiao Rong, all his flaws were corrected. Even his lack of political sensitivity was compensated for by Xiao Rong. These two people, if separated, were not threatening; one didn’t understand politics, and the other was too radical. Without Xiao Rong’s moderation, Qu Yunmie would destroy himself. Without Qu Yunmie’s protection, Xiao Rong would be forced out of politics, becoming an ordinary citizen.

They hadn’t been separated—they had perfectly found each other. This absurd stroke of luck made even Han Qing feel a flicker of envy.

Though that envy only lasted a breath. Han Qing quickly pushed aside those useless emotions and carefully analyzed which of the two was more suitable to eliminate.

It didn’t take long before he reached a conclusion. Xiao Rong was a scholar with poor health and was reportedly always ill. Qu Yunmie even desperately sought miracle doctors and remedies for him. Such a delicate and precious person would certainly be under heavy protection, and killing him would require eliminating hundreds of elite guards first.

On the other hand, Qu Yunmie was extremely strong, and unmatched in martial skills. Precisely because of his strength, he never relied on protection. The former Northern King’s palace allowed anyone to enter and approach him freely.

Fearing interception, Han Qing didn’t write all this in his letter, but he thought Chen Jiancheng would follow the same reasoning. Yet after listening to Zhou Liang, Chen Jiancheng believed targeting Huang Yanjiong was a better move. After reading his letter, Han Qing smiled—not a satisfied smile, but a mocking one.

Zhou Liang made that suggestion out of selfish motives. Even if Huang Yanjiong had “Huang” in his name, he had once lost to Qu Yunmie. Even if he went mad, he still wouldn’t be a match for Qu Yunmie. Besides, times had changed. Even if Qu Yunmie forgot to protect himself, Xiao Rong likely hadn’t. If Xiao Rong was truly as meticulous as he appeared, he surely left contingencies within the Northern Army against betrayal and attacks on Qu Yunmie.

In the end, it still had to be him.

Sighing, Han Qing returned upstairs after drinking and began packing. He had planned to stay a few more days, but now there wasn’t much time left. He had to leave the next day.

＊

Since that long fainting episode, Xiao Rong’s health had reverted to how it was at the beginning of the year—weak and pale, with poor appetite. He used to eat three meals a day, with snacks and supper. Now he was down to two meals, with no snacks, and was uninterested in supper.

Xiao Rong didn’t feel it much himself, but Ah Shu had already lost a lot of hair from worry. He’d even stopped growing taller.

…

Back when Xiao Rong ate three meals a day, everyone in the mansion looked at him with indescribable expressions. No one said he ate too much, but the words were written all over their faces. Now that he had stopped eating like that, they couldn’t stand it either—they wished he’d eat seven meals a day.

In the morning, Madam Chen made dumplings. At noon, Gao Xunzhi had the kitchen prepare confinement soup. Xiao Rong looked silently at the greasy chicken soup and made an expression just as indescribable.

He muttered, “If you want me to eat more, at least bring something I like—braised pork, pork knuckles in sauce.”

Ah Shu’s ears perked up and he straightened. “Young Master wants braised pork?”

Xiao Rong said, “I don’t.”

When Xiao Rong said he didn’t want it, he meant it. He wasn’t the type to eat more just because others coaxed him. Even if Madam Chen came over, he still refused to open his mouth.

Ah Shu sighed and sat across from Xiao Rong like a worried little adult. “Not eating won’t do, Young Master. You’re different from others. You’ve always had a big appetite. Now that you’re eating less, it must affect your health more than others.”

Xiao Rong: “…”

You didn’t have to emphasize the “big appetite.”

 

 

Edited by: Antiope

 

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