Chapter 22#

Heavy Snow#

It snowed continuously for the next few days, and Xu Daochun was so busy his feet barely touched the ground. Mi Linan was a permanent resident of Taiyuan Hall handling state affairs, and since the snow was heavy, he struck on a whim — he called Du Wei, Lu Guanjie, and the others to go admire the plum blossoms in the suburbs.

Outside, the cold wind howled without restraint. Xu Daochun was bustling about arranging the carriage, but Mi Linan waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t go to all that trouble. Just call for Yuchi Liang and have a few squads of Senluo Ghosts follow along. That’ll be enough.”

“How can that be acceptable?” Xu Daochun clutched the hooded cape and cloak, scurrying after him in small steps. “Your Majesty, the Son of Heaven’s ceremonial procession — what a magnificent sight it should be…”

“Am I that little Nie emperor? Who needs a crowd swarming around him just to step out the door?” Mi Linan extended his arms, letting Xu Daochun fasten the cloak for him, while gazing at the snow outside the hall, lost in recollection. “If Miao Shang were still here, having seen the snow last night, she would have been on horseback and out the city gates by this morning. You, you entered the palace too late. You never met your Empress Chun Cheng — the most extraordinary woman under heaven.”

“Truly so. Whenever Your Majesty mentions Empress Chun Cheng, this servant’s heart aches as though something is wringing it.” Xu Daochun finished tying the cloak, a trace of envy flickering across his face. “Tell me — how did those palace attendants of old ever come by such good fortune? They got to serve a pair like immortal consorts every single day.”

Even Mi Linan, hearing this, felt a swell of satisfaction. “No wonder people say, ‘Attendant Xu’s mouth could sweeten a dead man.’ I suppose no matter how terrible the matter, once it passes through your lips, it can be turned into the finest of blessings.”

Xu Daochun pressed his lips together, grinning, and followed Mi Linan out of the hall. The palace attendants at the doorway prostrated themselves as Mi Linan put on his boots. He asked, “Where’s that little beast?”

“Which one?” Mi Jin, who had been waiting outside, turned around. “Me? I’m right here.”

Mi Linan knew he was there. He looked him over. “You’ve been behaving yourself these past few days — haven’t gone out beating people again to show off your might?”

“Reporting to Your Majesty,” Mi Jin put on a theatrical air, “I’ve been cracking my knuckles and roaming about looking for someone. Just waiting for someone with poor eyesight to come looking for trouble with me.”

“With that tone of yours,” Mi Linan wasn’t wearing his crown today; his white hair, threaded with strands of black, hung in loose braids — “dare you beat Yuchi Liang again in front of me?”

“If that’s an order,” Mi Jin said serenely, “then naturally I dare.”

Mi Linan let out a cold scoff. Xu Daochun, supremely perceptive, immediately handed the hooded cape to Mi Jin. The Butcher King’s hairstyle today was specifically arranged to make donning the hood convenient. Mi Jin took the hooded cape and hesitated for a moment, but the expression on his face remained unchanged, as though he had never done such a thing before.

“Never put a hood on your own father?” Mi Linan turned around, his tone impatient. “Hurry up and put it on me.”

Mi Jin raised the hooded cape. There was a faint scent of incense clinging to it in the wind, which reminded him of his mother. In this moment, he couldn’t allow himself to think of his father, because he feared he would lose control.

“The winds in Xiangling were never this fierce.” Mi Jin placed the hooded cape on Mi Linan. “I didn’t call Yuchi Liang’s name just now. When I see him later, I’ll still need to apologize.”

Mi Linan turned his head. Without his tall crown, he appeared considerably shorter. He pointed at Mi Jin. “Your uncle has been going around begging people for your sake. If you have even a shred of conscience, don’t cause him any trouble today.”

Mi Jin bowed his head in salute. His movements were deferential, but his eyes remained untamable. Mi Linan paid him no further attention and walked outward with Xu Daochun. The palace attendants scurried after them in a rush, while Mi Jin followed leisurely behind.

Senluo City had originally been called “Shanxie.” It was only in the twelfth year of the Anding era, when Mi Linan declared himself emperor here, that it was renamed “Senluo.” Senluo City had a total of eight main city gates, each guarded by several hundred imperial guards and gate marshals. Ordinarily, the Shuoyue Gate and the Dachong Gate were the regularly opened ones, where commoners could present their credentials and enter or exit lawfully.

The Son of Heaven passed through the Gaojin Gate. As soon as Yuchi Liang received the order, he rushed here and took up his post in readiness. His head and face were still wrapped in bandages. He dismounted his horse at once, ordered the gates opened, and prepared to form up his ranks.

“Father!” Yuchi Lingze couldn’t ride a horse. He had run the entire way, cradling Yuchi Liang’s helmet, panting heavily. “The wound dressing was just changed this morning — I’m afraid you can’t wear the helmet…”

“Little brother.” The imperial guard who dismounted alongside Yuchi Liang was a man from Zhonggu. He clapped Yuchi Lingze on the shoulder and casually took the helmet from his hands. “The Supreme One is traveling, and the entire army is on alert. If our father alone goes without a helmet — how would that look to others? What you’re saying is truly childish.”

“Zilin is right.” Yuchi Liang stopped and turned to look at Yuchi Lingze. “Pup, don’t let your brothers chase after you to teach you such things anymore!”

War was frequent in the eastern plains, and adopting sworn sons in the military was common practice. Yuchi Liang had four or five sons under his name, and this Zhang Zilin was the most outstanding among them. That was why Zilin typically accompanied Yuchi Liang in and out of the palace, serving almost as a deputy general at his side.

Zhang Zilin strode forward and presented the helmet to Yuchi Liang. Yuchi Liang was a true man’s man — over these past few days, he hadn’t uttered a single sound while changing his dressings. Now he secured the helmet and said to Yuchi Lingze: “Today’s duty is critical. I have no time to deal with you. Go to the riding grounds yourself later and practice your horsemanship properly.”

Yuchi Lingze obeyed. Once he left the estate, he was… His appearance was plain; apart from being fairly tall, he had nothing else remarkable about him. Yet among all these men, he alone bore the surname “Yuchi.” So in just a few short days—

Yuchi Liang finished speaking and led his troops… Yuchi Lingze could only retreat. In the jostle, someone tripped him, and he fell to the ground.

“Lino…”

“…Utterly stupid…”

Whispers seemed to drift from both sides. Yuchi Lingze got back up. Someone kicked him from behind, and he fell again. They walked past him. He buried his face in the dirt, disheveled and humiliated. In the distance, he could hear the sound of hooves striking the ground. He got up once more.

Mi Linan charged ahead on horseback, bursting out from the streets and alleys. Yuchi Liang and the imperial guards immediately dropped to their knees. Everyone bowed their heads in unison: “Greetings to Your Majesty!”

“…,” Mi Linan said to Lu Guanjie, who was waiting outside the gates, “You lead the way. Run another five li, and I’ll race you!”

Lu Guanjie laughed loudly and agreed. His troops couldn’t enter the city casually, so he turned his horse around and took the lead.

Yuchi Liang, seeing this, quickly swung himself into the saddle. Before he even started chasing, a spray of snow mist erupted beside him.

“General Yuchi.” Mi Jin reined in his horse. He wasn’t familiar with the beast beneath him, and it took considerable effort to bring it to a stop. He raised his riding crop and used it to push aside Yuchi Liang’s helmet — no ceremony whatsoever. “Ho, you’re looking lively.”

“So it’s Your Lordship. I was wondering who had such nerve.” Yuchi Liang steadied his helmet. “Thanks to Your Lordship’s generosity, letting me lie at home for a few days — I suppose I’ve had time to rest and recover.”

“Then don’t forget to thank me,” Mi Jin said with a grin. “It took a tremendous effort on my part to get you that rest.”

“Rest assured, Your Lordship. They say a favor of dripping water should be repaid with a gushing spring. Our little matter — I’ll have plenty of opportunities to thank Your Lordship in the future.” Yuchi Liang turned and told Zhang Zilin to take the men ahead, while he followed Mi Jin at a moderate distance behind. “I heard Your Lordship has been attending to duties in front of the hall these days.”

“Getting up before dawn every day — like being punished to stand at attention,” Mi Jin complained. “Hearing them talk about some annual review that has kept Chancellor Du too busy to even sleep. I truly envy you. Why didn’t I join the Imperial Guards instead? Then I’d be resting alongside you every day.”

You son of a bitch!

Mi Jin had knocked out three of Yuchi Liang’s teeth. This morning, at breakfast, he could only drink porridge. Now, hearing the knife hidden in Mi Jin’s words, he only regretted not hiring double the assassins back in Ayou City.

“If Your Lordship were to join our Imperial Guards, how could you be following me? It should be me following Your Lordship.” Yuchi Liang’s heart twisted with resentment, and his words dripped with sarcasm. “These eight divisions used to be under the Bright King’s command, after all.”

“That was generations ago. Now they’re all called Senluo Ghosts.” Mi Jin’s tone was unhurried. “Even if I did show up, they might not necessarily be willing to submit to me.”

That was the truth, at least. The warmth and cold of human relations — however effective Mi Luo may have been, that was twenty years ago. Among the remaining five divisions of the Imperial Guards, apart from the surrendered Kuntu generals, there were also intricate factional connections within the native divisions. The situation was complicated, or else Yuchi Liang wouldn’t be so eager to climb upward.

Mi Linan’s method of balancing those below him was simple: he lacked no one, and no one around him was an indispensable figure. Yuchi Liang felt his position as battalion commander was beset by a pack of wolves. On Lu Guanjie’s side, it was even worse — behind the Prince of Fucheng, there was already a long queue, with young generals from Zhonggu all waiting for their turn to advance.

“With Your Lordship’s status, who would truly dare to challenge you?” Yuchi Liang had no wish to continue down this topic. He glanced at the horse beneath Mi Jin and clicked his tongue softly. “Your Lordship rides this? Such horses are meant for hauling military provisions.”

“Don’t remind me. Weren’t those several hundred fine Kuntu steeds all gifted to you? A Kuntu general deserves a Kuntu horse — now that’s impressive.” Mi Jin tugged on the reins. A bit of feather poked out from his sleeve; he tucked it back in. “Let’s go!”

He cracked his whip with a sharp snap. Unfortunately, this horse was genuinely inadequate, and in the blink of an eye, Yuchi Liang had overtaken him.

Outside the city, the world was wrapped in silver. Eight li away lay a plum grove. By the time Mi Jin arrived, Xu Daochun had already led the palace attendants in preparing the meal. The area had been cordoned off. Mi Jin didn’t see Mi Linan or Lu Guanjie anywhere.

“Run a few more li ahead and you’ll reach the camp where the Fucheng soldiers are stationed,” Xu Daochun said, directing a young eunuch to tie the sashes on his sleeves as he spoke to Mi Jin. “The Supreme One went to visit and comfort the troops.”

It was also because Mi Jin’s horse was simply too slow. No sooner had Xu Daochun finished speaking than Mi Linan’s party came into view, riding back. Xu Daochun hurried forward to greet them.

“Good thing I rode Youlong today, or I really wouldn’t have outrun you.” Mi Linan tossed the riding whip to Mi Jin and dismounted himself, putting an arm around Lu Guanjie’s shoulder with a laugh. “You’ve done well, Guanjie. This horse of yours, Wenfeng — I gave it to you years ago, and you’ve raised it magnificently!”

“Wenfeng is one in ten thousand — a Golden Crow horse.” Lu Guanjie turned and patted the horse’s head. “When I go to war, if supplies run low, I’d rather skip a meal myself than ever let it go hungry.”

He had said “would rather not,” not “wouldn’t dare.” Mi Linan was even more delighted. “A fine horse is meant to gallop across the battlefield. Back then, on the Lusui Plains—”

Heavy snow and fierce wind. His gaze swept past Mi Jin. Mi Jin knew — he was looking for Mi Luo again.

“…I took an arrow from Chen Qufei of the Dazhen. You all know he was called the ‘Divine Archer of the Coiling Dragon’ at the time. That arrow struck my right chest. I was wounded and fell from my horse. The Coiling Dragon army surrounded me on all sides. I got up and fought. Old General Jin — Jin Mingshi’s father, our venerable Old General — he shielded me with his body while we fought to break out.”

Mi Linan released Lu Guanjie. He couldn’t bear to look at Mi Jin anymore; his eyes rested only on the nearby plum grove.

“Such valor from Old General Jin. For my sake, he took blade after blade. But our horses had all been cut down. Fifty thousand Coiling Dragon soldiers — no matter how many I killed, there were always more. Just as all of us were about to perish with me in the enemy’s midst, suddenly I saw someone break through from beyond the horizon. It was Xinghuan. Xinghuan rode his most treasured horse, ignoring ten thousand men blocking his path, coming to save his father.”

Lu Guanjie lowered his head. In the wind, no one dared to speak.

Mi Jin gripped the riding whip so tightly his knuckles whitened. Snow struck his cheeks. Father, he is asking the heavens once more. What expression should I wear at this moment?

Mi Linan’s spirits faded. He pushed Xu Daochun aside and walked forward. Snowflakes swirled wildly. The wind was so fierce, yet he pulled the hooded cape from his head. After a moment, he turned back and looked at Mi Jin.

They gazed at each other across a thousand mountains and ten thousand rivers, as though the wheel of time were turning between them. Mi Jin refused to look away at this moment. He would rather be left standing here by Mi Linan.

Mi Linan’s braided hair whitened gradually in the wind. His features were aged, yet his eyes had never grown clouded. He stared hard at Mi Jin, his gaze the gaze of a lion — furious and wounded.

“Naga,” he said, “you are a heartless son.”