Chapter Six: The Situation Becomes Clear

Outside the governor’s mansion, the teahouse erupted into uproar.

“How could the prince appear in Jiangdu?”

“I heard the commander leading the Xiliang campaign is that useless Third Prince? In less than five days, Xiangyang fell to the demons—pathetic!”

“In the old days, our Great Zhou’s Xiliang cavalry slaughtered demons so thoroughly they couldn’t even whimper. Now the Qingqiu army is riding roughshod over us, and they even come to Jiangdu asking for help? It’s a joke—an insult!”

“If you ask me, we ought to seize the Third Prince and use him as a hostage, force the Hangzhou Provincial Minister to send troops, and gather all us chivalrous folks into an army of our own. Then what’s so hard about beating Qingqiu?”

“You’re exactly right, Brother Huang!”

Righteous indignation swelled and echoed throughout the teahouse. Amid the clamor, a white-haired girl with her eyes covered by a black cloth sat silently, sipping her tea in small, quiet mouthfuls.

A fine rain drifted from the heavens. She brushed the droplets from her feathered robe, and the ancient sword on her back gave off the faintest hum.

Only then did those nearby seem to remember her. A burly, bearded man turned and addressed her:

“Miss Jiang, what do you think? If you say seize him, I’ll be the first to act!”

Jiang Yunhe slowly shook her head, her voice cool and distant: “The girl beside the Third Prince just now—if I do not draw my sword, I cannot defeat her.”

At those words, the debate fell away into silence.

Jiang Yunhe—Li the Blind’s sole disciple, a renowned prodigy among the younger generation, ranked near the top of the Xuantian List. It was because she resided in Jiangdu that so many chivalrous men had gathered; the rumors in the broadsheets alone would never have sufficed.

With her words, all thoughts of kidnapping vanished from the minds of those present. If she would not draw her sword and could not stand against that girl, then none of them stood a chance.

Even without her sword, her cultivation was such that few established masters could match her. And the fact that she would not draw her sword was not out of reluctance, but necessity.

The sword on her back, “Heaven’s Bridge,” was a vessel for nurturing sword intent, meant to lead her into the Dao one day. It was the first sword forged by Li the Blind, and likely the last Jiang Yunhe would wield before seeking enlightenment.

After a long silence, Jiang Yunhe finished her tea—now mingled with rain—laid down a few copper coins, and rose to step out into the misty drizzle.

Her figure vanished at last from sight. In the teahouse, someone raised a cup:

“Let’s wait and see the hero who raises the banner tomorrow. For the Great Zhou to lose counties over and over—is this how we accept it?”

“We’ll wait for tomorrow…”

“Yes, wait for tomorrow!”

The tea, thinned by rain, burned their throats like strong wine as the patrons raised their cups in unison.

———

“So that’s how it is,” Pei Xiunian, still playing the part of a pampered scion in the governor’s office, spoke up. “Since these are righteous volunteers, all fighting for Great Zhou, why is Governor Sun trying to stop them?”

“Your Highness may not know…” Sun Hong sighed, voice heavy with sorrow. “Even if I wished to support them, such open action is too brazen. Should word reach certain quarters, the officials in court would accuse me of harboring private armies and plotting rebellion. That is a charge I cannot bear.”

Pei Xiunian slapped the table, feigning fury: “Those self-serving rats in the court always stir up trouble where they shouldn’t! In that case, I’ll take responsibility for this matter. Tomorrow, Governor, do nothing—let your constables and guards rest at home. Any complaints afterward, I’ll shoulder them.”

“Your Highness must not!” Governor Sun immediately put on a startled, grateful face, urging the prince to reconsider. After a few rounds of this performance, the governor naturally yielded to the prince’s insistence.

After enjoying the governor’s unavoidable hospitality at lunch, the drizzle had long stopped and the sun was sinking in the west. Pei Xiunian, accompanied by Xiao Qin, rested in a side chamber the governor had prepared.

He dismissed the servants and guards from the elegant courtyard, then sat in a pavilion watching koi dart among the lotus leaves. With nothing better to do, he tapped chess pieces on the table, but the image of the governor’s expression came to mind and all his leisure vanished.

After probing with his spiritual sense to confirm they were alone, Xiao Qin could no longer hold back her worries. Her delicate face clouded with concern as she asked, “The governor has already exposed your identity, Your Highness. How can we raise the banner tomorrow?”

“With a governor who’s being used unwittingly, it’ll be even easier to win the trust of the wandering heroes,” Pei Xiunian replied lightly. “Tomorrow the governor won’t send troops to interfere. To the martial world, I am simply Pei Xiunian, the impostor Third Prince of Great Zhou.”

“Why am I raising the banner? Because I got the exact location of Qingqiu’s grain depot in Yunchuan from General Chu. How did I get it? Because I am impersonating the prince.”

Xiao Qin’s brows knit in surprise, her hands nearly coming together in applause, but then she remembered something, bit her lip, and finally asked, “But what if word gets out? With things stirring so much, there’ll be crowds tomorrow…”

“But my seal is real,” Pei Xiunian said, twirling a chess piece. “To the governor, I’m just a Third Prince who changed his surname to win over the martial world. But you’re right—I overacted just now. That alone could raise suspicion.”

Xiao Qin quickly waved her hands, flustered. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just worry—if this reaches the capital, won’t there be a stack of impeachment petitions against you?”

Pei Xiunian laced his fingers together, pondering. “After gathering the volunteers tomorrow, we march straight to Xiangyang. That’s faster than any memorial reaching the capital. If it works, Qingqiu retreats, the whole country celebrates, and I’m a hero—even if they try to balance merit and fault, at most I’ll be confined for a few days. A rare chance for peace and quiet—how wonderful.”

Xiao Qin opened her mouth, wanting to say more, but nothing came out.

Pei Xiunian smiled, neatening the hair at her temple tousled by the wind. “If we fail, I die at the Wei River. You should run, become a wandering cultivator. So young, already at the peak of the fourth realm, and so pretty—it’d be a waste to die with me.”

“But I’m not that easy to kill. And from now on, just call yourself Xiao Qin around me. ‘Servant’ is too formal, especially since I’m not really a prince.”

Xiao Qin’s eyes widened, her cheeks flushing. Her thoughts tangled into knots—she didn’t know what to say, nor how he’d seen through her cultivation. If he could see that, what else might he know?

She stood there for a moment, fists clenched, about to speak, but when she looked up she found Pei Xiunian had already fallen asleep on the table.

Only then did she realize she hadn’t seen him rest once since meeting him. Could an ordinary man with no cultivation really endure so much?

Now that all was planned, he could finally sleep in peace.

Gazing at Pei Xiunian sleeping so defenselessly, she couldn’t help but sigh. On her very first day as his stand-in, ready to help him seize the throne, the Third Prince had died. Should she kill this impostor or not?

After a moment’s silence, Xiao Qin finally shook her head. She’d wait—when he saw through her identity, then she would act.

She draped the sable cloak over him, intending to carry him to bed with her spiritual power, but in the end, stubbornly lifted him onto her back and walked him step by step into the room, hooking the door shut with her foot.

It was the first time she’d ever been so close to a man.