The Heir, the Heir—he was a soft persimmon. Qiu Deyao was bold and arrogant; that he could now lead Shangjin to openly mingle with the Crown Prince was largely thanks to this "soft persimmon." Qiu was the quintessential type who responded to force but not persuasion; he was covered in thorns, and only by having those thorns ruthlessly snapped would he settle down for a while. But now that those thorns had grown high enough to pierce the heavens, the soft persimmon had suddenly hopped back into the fray.
"What am I doing?" Qiu Deyao sneered. "Don't you put on an act with me. Even if the Prince of Yan himself returned, I’d still raise hell. It’s just as well the Heir is back; don't go pinning this mess on my head. That bastard Wu Yu from Xiajin is talking nonsense and acting like a lunatic. Better to drag him down sooner rather than later! He’s an eyesore!"
"And I’m going to keep right on doing it." Wu Yu popped his head out from behind Ji Baiyue, swaying his head mockingly. "I am a man of letters! What the hell do you know? If you’re so capable, go teach those boys in Shangjin some manners. Every time they open their mouths, it’s 'having a thing' this and 'having a thing' that." He hiked up his robe, revealing his trouser-clad legs, and shouted, "Your lust has gone to your heads, hasn't it! You want to see my legs that badly? Look! I was born with such natural beauty, it's hard to give up on myself!"
The youth with the disheveled hair, still trembling from fright, nearly fainted from rage at this shout. He clutched his chest and broke into a fit of earth-shattering coughs.
Wu Yu gave a haughty snort and tucked away his "stunningly beautiful" legs. Meng Chen grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him up. "In front of the Heir, who the hell are you calling 'this father'!"
Wu Yu struggled, his feet dangling off the ground. He was thin and significantly shorter than Meng Chen. Even as a rogue, his neck flushed red with indignation as he thrashed. "Meng Big-Head! Put me down!"
"Your foul mouth is truly incurable!" Meng Chen smacked him on the head and presented him before Xin Yi’s horse. "Heir, this is Wu Yu of Xiajin, courtesy name Ziyin. He’s a little local ruffian the Prince brought up back in the day. Don't be fooled by his slick, foul mouth; he’s actually the same age as the Third Young Master. He’s still green."
One could tell this man was a master of clowning and roguery, yet he possessed a baby face comparable to Xiao Jin’s. If he didn't speak, he truly did look "green." But once he opened his mouth—
"Pah!" Wu Yu cursed. "You’re the damn ruffian! I am a proper lad!" He added, "Put me down! Don't you dare ruin my reputation in front of the Heir!"
In this clash of many voices, it was a pity Xin Yi was someone who could not speak. He turned his gaze toward Qiu Deyao. His eyes were clear and sharp, yet they held a genuine, unmistakable ruthlessness.
Qiu Deyao was dismissive in his heart, and equally so on his face. He truly did not hold this soft persimmon in any regard. He simply said, "In terms of seniority, it wouldn't be excessive for the Heir to call me 'Grand-Uncle.' However, since my Shangjin has now been partitioned out of Beiyang, such a title might be a breach of etiquette. So, feel free to call me by name, and I shall continue to call you 'Lord Heir.'"
The scar on Ji Baiyue’s brow twitched. He said coldly, "Old Qiu, we brothers respect you for your age, but that doesn't mean you get to flaunt it."
Qiu Deyao replied, "I doubt you even know how to write the word 'respect,' though you're happy enough to say it."
The two sides stood in confrontation, seemingly on the verge of another shouting match. The night wind whipped through the camp, and the Beiyang Azure Wolf flag fluttering on the slope creaked in the wind, bearing silent witness to the fractures within the Three Jins. Xin Yi remained silent atop his horse, his grip tightening on his bow.
Meng Chen’s expression darkened as he stepped forward to separate Ji Baiyue and Qiu Deyao. "We talk in the tent!"
Ji Baiyue was willing enough, but Qiu Deyao was not so easily managed. The old man, with his long beard, stiffened his neck, clearly intending to shout a few more lines. Unexpectedly, the bowstring of the person on horseback gave a sharp *thrum* in the night wind—not loud, but making his stance crystal clear.
Either go inside and talk, or I’ll beat you until you crawl away.
Qiu Deyao looked Xin Yi up and down, finally truly acknowledging his presence. Seeing the unfathomable depth in those dark eyes, he finally sensed that this soft persimmon might no longer be so soft. Without another word, he gave a cold snort, flicked his sleeves, and headed into the tent.
The camp had been hastily assembled by Ji Baiyue, but the tent was spacious, offering Qiu Deyao a measure of the respect due to an elder even in this impoverished place. Unfortunately, Qiu Deyao didn't care for it. His eyes were fixed solely on Shangjin’s foreign trade business; anyone asking him to share even a portion was trying to snatch food from a tiger’s mouth—it was a life-and-death matter.
Even after sitting down, Wu Yu acted as if he were on a bed of needles, squirming and shifting, unable to stay still.
Xin Yi sat at the head. His face was still youthful, and when he lowered his eyes, it was hard to see the aura of the future commander of Beiyang. The more Qiu Deyao looked, the more annoyed he became, feeling that this boy was still too soft—completely different from his brothers.
Feeling disgruntled, he naturally didn't show a pleasant face. He slammed his hand on the table and said, "Since the Heir is here, I’ll speak plainly. The trade route through Shangjin was granted by the Imperial Court. We eat the Emperor’s grain and fly the banner of serving the country and the people. Wu Yu, you grandson of a bitch, you were as compliant as a grandson back then, not daring to let out a single fart in front of the Crown Prince. Now that you’ve seen gold, your courage has grown fat! Xiajin has sixty thousand Beiyang soldiers, but they’re just a bunch of old, weak, and disabled men. Does the grain you damn well grow not suffice to feed them? That’s not what you said when you were selling grain to Xu Hang!"
Hearing this, Xin Yi glanced at Wu Yu. Wu Yu grinned. "So, isn't that why I’ve sold out? What kind of person is Yan Jueshu? Could he possibly give me a good price?"
"Then why are you pretending to be a beggar?" Qiu Deyao’s face turned livid. "This time, Shangjin won't give face even to the Heavenly King himself!"
The meaning behind these words was clear: even with Xin Yi back, it wouldn't change a thing. Don't expect them to spit out the meat they already had in their mouths.
To be honest, Wu Yu was indeed being a rogue this time, but as for *why* he was being a rogue, Xin Yi now understood perfectly.
After hearing Qiu Deyao out, Meng Chen spoke up: "Since Shangjin has removed itself from the name of Beiyang, then..." He paused for a long time, still unable to emotionally reconcile with Qiu Deyao’s actions. He said dryly, "Then it is no longer considered Beiyang land, and it’s only right to protect your food. But the Crown Prince can give you this sweet treat because he can afford it *for now*. Dayuan and we are at peace, but the heavens are fickle. If war breaks out tomorrow, it will be a matter of losing both face and substance. We’ve spent half our lives fighting them, and now you want your brothers to escort their trade? That’s damn well asking for resentment."
"Meng Chen, the days are no longer like when the Prince was around." Qiu Deyao glanced at Xin Yi and said in a heavy voice, "The Beiyang Army has been torn apart. Fight? Who can fight Dayuan? Does the Emperor have the guts? You are all loyal generals, while I’m the only ungrateful one. But I have hundreds of thousands of people under me who need to eat. The Prince is gone; do you damn well think Shangjin’s business is easy to conduct? Dayuan relies on the fact that Arslan is still around; why should they still respect Beiyang? Beiyang doesn't even have a single wolf cub left! If not for the Crown Prince, Shangjin would have been eating the wind long ago!"
Meng Chen remained silent, his head bowed. Wu Yu laughed a few times. "Indeed, hundreds of thousands of people need to eat, and they all rely on your Qiu family’s scrap business? The Crown Prince tossing you a meal is like shooing a dog at his door; how much of the high-profit stuff is actually entrusted to you? Stop gilding your own face, Qiu the Second. You really aren't worth that price!"
Qiu Deyao kicked over the small table. Wu Yu continued cheerfully without even blinking, "If I were you, I wouldn't have the face to show up here! You carry the reputation of being ungrateful yet haven't gained anything rare, and you’ve happened to accept this pathetic favor from the Crown Prince. When the day comes for you to repay that favor, he won't leave you with a single hair! I can't do something as brainless as a donkey’s kick; how is your head wired?" Seeing Qiu Deyao about to explode, Wu Yu suddenly slammed the table and shouted sternly, "Even torn apart, they are still the Beiyang Army! You damn well want to be a biting dog for the Crown Prince, and you’re shaming the face of Beiyang. If you still remembered the kindness the Prince showed you, you wouldn't be doing such dog-shunned things!" Having finished, his expression shifted as he clutched his hand. "Ow, ow, ow! It hurts!"
"I was wondering why this suddenly flared up." Qiu Deyao glared at Wu Yu, then swept his gaze over Meng Chen and Ji Baiyue, finally landing solidly on Xin Yi. He said, "So, you’re all eyeing my eighty thousand men."
The scar on Ji Baiyue’s brow moved slightly, a sneer touching his lips. "Your eighty thousand men?" He spat, "Qiu Deyao, *your* eighty thousand men?"
"If they aren't mine, are they yours?!" Qiu Deyao stood up abruptly. "There is no more damn Beiyang Army. We are all the Court’s dogs; no one is cleaner or more noble than the next. Don't you act all high and mighty here; aren't the seventy thousand men under you also partitioned out? And now you’re eyeing the ones in my hand!"
"That is the Beiyang Army!" Ji Baiyue hissed, standing up to face him. "It is still the Beiyang Army!"
"Self-deception!" Qiu Deyao suddenly pointed at Xin Yi. "You brought this soft persimmon back for no other reason than wanting to reassemble the Beiyang Army to show off for a few more years. But I’m telling you today, it’s useless! Back then, the Prince could make all of Great Lan tremble with a stomp of his foot, and he was still played to death!"
Meng Chen also stood up with a *clatter*, his dark expression suggesting he was about to join Ji Baiyue in a beating.
Wu Yu chimed in from the side, "What’s the point of watching you guys brawl? Just have the men fight it out. Either way, it’s all Beiyang Army; let the Court rest easy seeing how we’ve all become sludge on the border, so they can lose their wariness. We wouldn't have to waste every day on these schemes, and we could even get together for a game." As he spoke, he propped his legs up on the table, utterly disregarding decorum. He said familiarly to Xin Yi, "The Heir has grown quite a bit. The last time I saw you... I saw you..." He rubbed his chin, thinking back for a long time before gesturing, "You were only this big."
Like hell he was that big. This man was the same age as his third brother, and even his flaws and temper were somewhat similar.
"See?" Wu Yu leaned his head on his hand. "It’s not very peaceful even after coming back."
"We are brothers." Xin Yi smiled slightly. "It is no matter."
When he spoke, it wasn't much to the others, but Qiu Deyao was greatly shocked.
Xin Yi stood up and poured himself a cup of hot water. He stood there drinking for a few moments, then noticed the other three were staring at him. He said with composed politeness, "Please continue, gentlemen. Don't mind me."
Ji Baiyue straightened his collar and sat back down. Qiu Deyao was momentarily unable to grasp what was happening, only managing to stammer, "How... how can he speak!"
"My illness is cured," Xin Yi lied without changing his expression. "I can manage a few words."
"Then, then, but—"
"You needn't take it too seriously." Xin Yi finished his water and looked sideways at Qiu Deyao. The hatred that had been in his eyes outside the tent was now wiped clean, not a trace remaining. He said gently, "You are right; I cannot manage things. Whether it is the Beiyang Army or Shangjin, none of it is in my hands. My life in the capital was quite comfortable and pleasant, and I have no say here. However, I would like to ask Old Qiu: how long have you known the Crown Prince?"
His attitude was good, even humble, and he addressed him with respect. As the saying goes, one does not strike a smiling face; Qiu Deyao truly couldn't bring himself to lash out. But he couldn't muster a good temper either, saying stiffly, "A long time."
Xin Yi gave a faint "oh" and set the cup on the table. He had learned about fifty percent of Bai Jiu’s poise and mannerisms. "Then it has been quite a while. No wonder the Crown Prince keeps Old Qiu in mind even when pushing his decrees."
Qiu Deyao thought to himself: *It has been a long time, but is the Crown Prince a man who cares for old sentiments?*
"Then you must know the Crown Prince well." Xin Yi smiled, speaking with a good-natured air. "He has a fine temperament. Having followed the Empress Dowager in practicing Buddhism for years, he is compassionate. He cannot bear to see anyone suffer even a bit of grievance in his presence. He treated me well in the capital, inquiring after me constantly." As he spoke, he saw Qiu Deyao’s brow furrow—the man clearly couldn't stomach this nonsense. Xin Yi stopped smiling, his tone shifting. "Of course, deep down, he is still a piece of work."
Qiu Deyao’s eyelid jumped as he watched Xin Yi’s expression change.
"My return this time is, firstly, to offer incense and kowtow to my elder brothers, and secondly, to give Old Qiu a reminder. You were my father’s right-hand man; even if you’ve partitioned yourself out, I still consider you an elder. The capital has been restless lately. The Prince of Qin met his end first, and the Crown Prince’s decrees followed. I’m not entirely sure what lies behind all this, but since Old Qiu is an old acquaintance of the Crown Prince, I imagine you can guess a thing or two? The Crown Prince possesses a certain resolve to sever his own limbs that is truly admirable. But that doesn't scare his opponents; I fear it only chills the hearts of his own people." A dimple appeared as Xin Yi smiled. "Look at the Prince of Qin’s seniority; even after bombing the Emperor’s hall, he was still given a dignified burial. A pity that while he was stirring up storms in the capital just a while ago and had a son to succeed him, he has now been cut off completely, with not even a title left. This isn't the Emperor’s wrath; this is the Crown Prince’s prowess. The Qiu family is currently full of descendants, and your fortune is rising; I only fear that if some filth arises in the future, you too will be left with absolutely nothing."
Qiu Deyao’s mad-dog-like rage was crushed by Xin Yi’s gentle words until he couldn't even let out a howl. He could only say, "How do you know he would—"
"By then, even if the Crown Prince cannot, I have that intention."
Qiu Deyao’s eyes instantly widened.
The softness in Xin Yi’s eyes faded entirely, leaving only a scorched-earth gloom. He said:
"If Old Qiu becomes someone else’s blade, I cannot spare you, whether for the sake of sentiment or justice. I am sinister to the bone; I do not use fair and honorable tactics, but prefer despicable and shameless means. While Old Qiu is flourishing, I shall tuck my tail and retreat. But if Old Qiu shows even a hint of decline, I won't wait for the Crown Prince; I will find a way to sever the Qiu family’s roots myself. I am a survivor of a massacre; I understand the principle of total extermination better than anyone. If Old Qiu wishes to end his ties with Beiyang, then please, be my guest."
Qiu Deyao’s anger gradually subsided, replaced by the cunning ruthlessness he ought to have. He said, "Talk is the easiest thing. If you want to rely on these three to sever my roots, do not forget whose jurisdiction Shangjin falls under. A green boy speaking empty words—even if your tail reaches the sky, you cannot block the affairs of men."
"You just said it yourself." Xin Yi laughed deeply. "Even with the Prince of Yan, wasn't he squeezed until only one soft persimmon remained?"
Back then, with three hundred thousand Beiyang soldiers in hand, the Prince of Yan’s manor couldn't be saved. How could the eighty thousand men of Shangjin be so certain they wouldn't meet an even worse fate? The capital was a beast that ate people, swallowing them whole without leaving skin or bone. Who could guarantee anyone’s safety? Had they not seen the Prince of Ping, so capable and rebellious, unable to even protect Shanyin in the end, watching it burn to ashes? In this world, even the Emperor’s sons were heading to the yellow springs one by one; who dared say the next blade wasn't aimed at their own head?
Bai Jiu had maneuvered so that Xin Yi could return; besides visiting the graves, he couldn't go back empty-handed. Bai Jiu supported him, but he couldn't live off Bai Jiu’s support forever. He wanted to stand tall before the Emperor and the Crown Prince, and he wanted to stand tall alongside Bai Jiu. He could not allow things to fall into ruin.
Peeling back the rabbit skin, underneath was a wolf cub with bared fangs and claws.
Wu Yu clapped his hands rhythmically from the side, unable to stop laughing even after Meng Chen gave him an elbow to the ribs.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 叔公 | Grand-Uncle | A term of respect for an elder of one's grandfather's generation. |
| 吴子胤 | Wu Ziyin | Wu Yu's courtesy name. |
| 阿尔斯楞 | Arslan | A name, likely a leader of the Dayuan (Great Yuan). |
| 大岚 | Great Lan | The name of the empire/dynasty. |
| 平王 | Prince of Ping | A title of a prince mentioned in the context of political downfall. |
| 山阴 | Shanyin | A place name associated with the Prince of Ping. |
