Huang Cheng watched as the Emperor moved forward, surrounded by the civil and military officials lining up in an orderly procession to follow.
The Emperor's decree had already spread, drums and music filled the air, ceremonial banners and formations were impeccable, and on Imperial Street, the citizens knelt one after another, creating a scene as vibrant as blooming flowers.
Within this bustling festivity, Huang Cheng wore an expression of deep displeasure, which he made no attempt to hide.
"My lord, do rise," two eunuchs said cautiously, attempting to persuade him.
"I will not rise," Huang Cheng replied. "What do I have to fear? Honest advice may be unpleasant, and my words may have been rejected, but how is this shameful? It is the duty of a minister."
As he spoke, he resolutely sat down with no intentions of getting up.
A tantrum from a child warrants a beating. But when an old man throws a tantrum, it truly leaves one helpless—unable to beat, unable to reason.
The Emperor did not care; the eunuchs exchanged helpless glances and retreated quietly.
The pounding of horse hooves drowned out the voices of the crowd.
When the troops of unarmored peasant soldiers appeared before the Imperial City, surrounded by ragged refugees, they lacked the imposing grandeur of an armored military force, yet carried a different kind of majestic resolve.
Especially when the Emperor appeared, Duke of Chengguo stepped forward, crying out in repentance for his failures and neglect of his sovereign trust. The soldiers dismounted and greeted him on one knee, while the tens of thousands of northern refugees knelt, weeping and repeatedly bowing in gratitude. The atmosphere outside the Imperial City was one of tragic yet energizing emotion.
The Emperor hesitated no longer, stepping forward to grasp the Duke of Chengguo's hand, shedding tears uncontrollably, soothing the refugees in their agitation. The officials all knelt, the citizens cheered long live the Emperor, and the entire capital was stirred to its core.
The Imperial City became the center of this uproar, while the streets through which the northern refugees and the Duke of Chengguo's troops had passed earlier fell silent. This silence, of course, was relative—on the streets, citizens were still animatedly discussing what they had just witnessed, and many more were rushing towards the Imperial City.
From the window of a nearby tavern, Prince Xian smacked his lips in admiration.
"Marvelous, truly marvelous. The grace of the Duke of Chengguo is unmatched." He sighed and then turned his gaze inward. "People often say, 'The student surpasses the teacher,' but look at you, the son. You are truly no match for your father. When your father steps out, the streets are deserted in awe; when you step out, it's chaos like chickens and dogs scattering."
The room was luxurious, yet only one person sat at the elegantly arranged banquet table.
This man wore coarse clothes, his hair disheveled, and sported a scruffy beard. He sat cross-legged, one hand holding a wine jar and the other gnawing at a roasted chicken.
His appearance resembled the northern refugees that had just passed through, entirely out of place with the refined setting of the chamber.
"You're just jealous," he said, pulling off his beard to reveal a clean and handsome face. With a sweep of his hand through his hair, he raised his head. "When have I ever gone out without emptying the streets for miles?"
As he spoke, he pointed outside with a finger.
"Do you believe me? If I step out now, I'll show you! What will you bet me?"
Prince Xian burst out laughing.
"Why talk about money between us? Talking about money ruins relationships," he said.
Perhaps realizing that verbal exchanges with Zhu Zan would gain him no advantage, he dropped the subject and gestured out the window.
"Those people must be furious. After scheming for so long and spending so much money to stir up this commotion, they didn't even get to see the Duke of Chengguo's face before being scattered."
Zhu Zan let out a cold laugh, tipping the wine jar back to drink deeply.
"How could they deserve to see him?" he scoffed. "A bunch of brainless, immoral clowns taking bribes."
Prince Xian shook his head.
"Even clowns can make others lose face," he said. "Had it not been for the arrival of the northern refugees, your father would have been forced to meet those people."
"There are no 'ifs,'" Zhu Zan replied decisively.
Prince Xian clicked his tongue.
"Look at how pleased you are. Isn't it just because your wife is extraordinary?" he teased.
Zhu Zan glared at him.
"Your wife!" he shot back.
"My wife is at home, several of them, in fact. Which one do you want to talk about?" Prince Xian retorted, glaring right back.
Zhu Zan spat dismissively.
"Don't bother glaring; no matter how hard you glare, your eyes won't get any bigger," he said, picking up chopsticks to take another bite of food.
Prince Xian sat down next to him with a broad grin.
"Hey, where's your wife? The big show is over, and she still hasn't made her entrance?" he asked curiously.
Zhu Zan shoved him aside with his arm.
"Watch your mouth. Stop calling her 'my wife' every other sentence. I'm still an innocent youth," he said irritably.
Prince Xian snorted contemptuously.
"You're as innocent as a ghost!" he said, throwing back his head in hearty laughter as he grabbed some wine and drank deeply.
Though only the two of them were in the room, the atmosphere was lively and spirited, matching the cheer outside the Imperial City in its own way.
Meanwhile, the crowd that had thronged the city gates earlier was now long gone. Only the duty soldiers remained, chatting about the recent events as a group of people approached from outside the gates. Upon spotting these newcomers, the guards exchanged knowing looks and stood at attention.
This was a group of scholars wearing flowing robes and square caps. However, unlike their usual refined and elegant appearance, they looked disheveled, their garments soiled with dust and their faces clouded with dejection.
The guards, who once regarded scholars with respectful solemnity, now openly displayed derision on their faces.
"Credit where it's due, we've never denied his accomplishments," one scholar said with a tone of embarrassed indignation. "But demanding rewards just isn't right."
Before anyone could answer, a mocking laugh came from nearby.
The scholar turned to see it was one of the gate guards.
"Based on your logic, sir scholar, should we stop accepting our wages too?" the guard said with a sardonic smile.
The scholar's face flushed with embarrassment, feeling humiliated by this crude soldier's retort.
"What is rightfully deserved should be given, and what isn't, naturally shouldn't. Don't twist our meaning and fall under the Duke of Chengguo's manipulation," he said, trying to recover.
The guard opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, a heavy huffing sound came from nearby, followed by the clatter of hurried footsteps. Everyone turned to see another group of scholars approaching from within the city.
The guard instinctively felt uneasy. For all their faults, it was still unwise to openly challenge scholars, so he began to take a discreet step back. However, the elder leading the arriving scholars stopped abruptly and, to everyone's surprise, spat heavily toward the group of disheveled scholars.
"Song Wencai, you've brought disgrace to all scholars," the elder rebuked loudly.
What?! Even…? The guard's expression shifted as his eyes darted between the two groups of scholars.
The scholars who had just arrived visibly stiffened.
"Mr. Zhou," one of them stepped forward to address the elder, "what we've done is for the reputation of all Great Zhou Scholars! The Duke of Chengguo is nothing but a mere military officer, yet he's been overly arrogant. Historically, the civil leads and the military follows—when have civil officials had to surrender their salaries to support military generals?"
"Exactly, Mr. Zhou! This cannot be allowed, or it will surely lead to chaos," many of the other scholars chimed in.
Mr. Zhou regarded them coldly and sneered again.
"I see no distinction between civil and military officials, only between people and beasts," he said. "And you lot? You don't even qualify as people."
His words were heavy. The disheveled scholars turned red-faced one moment, pale the next, and tried to defend themselves, but Mr. Zhou cut them off, pointing to one man in particular.
"Kang Liangchen," he said coldly. "How much money did you take? How did you acquire that house in Mao'er Alley?"
At this, the surrounding scholars gasped and turned to look at a slightly plump man among their ranks. He now looked terrified, instinctively stumbling backward.
"I…I didn't…" he stammered.
Mr. Zhou asked him no more questions. His icy gaze swept over the group.
"From now on, do not wear these scholar's robes while in the capital. The Imperial College does not produce students like you," he declared, flinging his sleeve as he turned and strode away.
The scholars who had come with him followed, shaking their heads and casting looks of contempt at the disheveled group.
"Disgraceful."
"A stain on the name of scholars."
They spoke as they departed, leaving the disheveled scholars in disarray. Many turned on Kang Liangchen, grabbing at him and breaking out into a commotion.
The guards couldn't contain their amusement.
"Hey, hey," they said, folding their arms as they stood by, grinning mischievously. "If you can't out-talk him, why don't you throw a punch instead?"
"Exactly! Why talk when you can fight?"
Up in a nearby tavern, a burst of jeering laughter erupted.
Watching the disgraced scholars flee, Chen Qi banged on the window in glee.
"First, they embarrassed themselves, and now they've been ousted by Mr. Zhou. They've lost their foothold in the capital entirely," he said, spitting in disdain. "Ten years of hard-earned study, wasted. Serves them right."
"That's how things are. The outcome is never guaranteed. If they had succeeded this time, it would be Duke Chengguo suffering instead," Fang Jinxiu said.
Chen Qi looked over at her and grinned.
"You should've seen it! Those roadside ambushes outside the city were so dangerous," he said, embellishing as he spoke. "I asked you to come with me outside the city, but you wouldn't."
"It was bound to end in the city; I only needed to see the result," Fang Jinxiu said.
Chen Qi chuckled slyly.
"You seem so confident," he teased.
Fang Jinxiu simply scoffed without replying.
Chen Qi clapped his hands together.
"Well, now that it's settled, let's head back," he said, starting toward the door. However, Fang Jinxiu remained seated at the window, unmoving.
"What's wrong?" Chen Qi asked. "No more excitement to watch, so let's go."
But Fang Jinxiu kept listening to the distant sounds of bustle near the Imperial City, staring at the now-quiet city gates. Her hand tightened slightly around her teacup.
And what about her?
In the adjacent room, Ning Yan also moved away from the window, shaking his head.
"A disgrace to learning," he muttered.
Ning Shiyi hurried in from the hallway.
"Father, the Duke of Chengguo has entered the palace. The Emperor is hosting a banquet today and has also mandated the proper resettlement of the northern refugees into various prefecture offices," he said.
"Fortunately, His Majesty has not been wholly swayed by treacherous advisors," Ning Yan said with a nod as the two descended the stairs.
Upon hearing these words, Ning Shiyi chuckled.
"Father, to be fair, His Majesty's actions now are still a result of being persuaded," he said. "At the time when Huang Cheng clung to His Majesty's leg, begging him to retreat into the palace…"
Ning Yan stopped in his tracks and turned to look at him.
"…Tenth Brother stepped forward and persuaded His Majesty to stay," Ning Shiyi added, barely suppressing a laugh.
Yunzhao?
Ning Yan was slightly surprised but not entirely.
This nephew of his was too sharp to remain a predictable follower.
...…
"Yunzhao, you truly scared us this time,"
The revelry on Imperial Street continued as the ceremonial formations outside the Imperial City began to withdraw, with everyone making their way toward the imperial palace.
Following the prescribed order, Ning Yunzhao, who trailed behind, was surrounded by a few colleagues whispering to him.
With a faint smile, Ning Yunzhao looked straight ahead.
"So, do you feel dead or alive now?" he asked.
Dead or alive? His colleagues glanced ahead as well, seeing the Emperor seated in his palanquin with Duke Chengguo Zhu Shan walking at his side.
This scene, which had so obviously won the Emperor's favor, meant that, rather than being reprimanded, they—who had merely joined in with the congratulations—were inevitably deemed meritorious.
"Alive, but barely," one official quipped.
The group laughed. As they joked, an imperial eunuch hurried toward them with a smile, bowing toward Ning Yunzhao.
"Lord Xiao Ning, please follow me," the eunuch said cheerfully.
The Emperor wished to speak with him?
Several officials expressed delighted surprise, while Ning Yunzhao maintained his calm demeanor, nodding politely before stepping forward. Yet, instead of immediately following, he turned to cast a brief glance backward, as if waiting for something or someone, his expression tinged with subtle yearning.
Waiting for what? Looking at whom?
His colleagues instinctively followed his gaze.
"The excitement," he said softly.
The excitement?
The crowd on Imperial Street hadn't fully dispersed yet; the energy lingered, but certainly not anything groundbreaking. After half a day, people grew weary of even such a spectacle.
"Don't bother looking; the excitement is over," one colleague said with a low chuckle.
Ning Yunzhao smiled faintly, saying no more. He retracted his gaze, nodded to his peers, and gracefully followed the eunuch into the distance.
Behind him, his colleagues watched his retreating figure with growing admiration.
"Why is it that the same official robes, when worn by Lord Xiao Ning, somehow look so much better?" one said gleefully.
The remark earned him good-natured ribbing from others. Their laughter grew too loud, drawing a glare of warning from a censor nearby. The group quickly straightened their appearances, resumed their formation, and filed onward in orderly rows.
"Indeed, aligning ourselves with Lord Xiao Ning has been the right choice," one official murmured during their march, his voice laced with a mix of relief and admiration.
............
Ning Yan descended from the tavern, now standing amidst the hushed remnants left behind by the scholars' departure. With no more crowds blocking the path, the street felt unusually serene.
"With fewer people, the road is clear. We'll reach home swiftly now," Ning Shiyi joked, watching house servants bring the carriage around. Just as he spoke, however, someone bolted out from the tavern.
"Here they come, here they come!"
The person shouted excitedly, breezing past Ning Shiyi with such urgency that he almost toppled over.
"What's the rush?" Ning Shiyi cried out irritably. "Who's here? What, are you going to greet a deity?"
The man paid him no heed, racing toward the city gate.
Ning Shiyi instinctively looked to see what had sparked such excitement. On the broad road stretching beyond the gate, a figure on horseback approached.
The rider's features were difficult to discern from afar, but the petite frame, clad in fiery red, stood out vividly. Despite the striking hue, there was a soft elegance to the rider's posture—poised, breezy, and charmingly balanced between gentility and gallantry. Eye-catching without being ostentatious.
Who could this be?
"Miss Jun!"
Chen Qi raised his arm in an enthusiastic wave and shouted.
Miss Jun?
Which Miss Jun?
The name caused the sparse pedestrians on the street to pause. Even the gate guards straightened up, fixing their eyes on the approaching figure.
The woman drew closer, her veiled hat to shield against sun and dust now undone, fluttering softly at her front and unveiling a radiant, stunning face.
It seemed as though the whole street froze momentarily, only to erupt the next second.
"Miss Jun!"
"Miss Jun has returned!"
"The Divine Doctor of Jiuling Hall has returned!"
With these cries, a wave of people suddenly poured onto the street, as if springing forth from the earth itself. Even customers from nearby teahouses, taverns, and food stalls rushed out, clogging the thoroughfare in an instant.
Ning Shiyi was jostled around, barely managing to protect his father.
"This really is like welcoming a deity," he muttered, looking at the now-crowded street. With a helpless and frustrated stomp of his foot, he added, "Great, the road's blocked again; we're not getting home anytime soon."
As new fervor rippled through the bustling streets, the residual excitement from the Imperial Street began to wane. Yet the news spread, drawing even more people from there to this spectacle. The scene here now rivaled the grandeur of welcoming the Duke of Chengguo into the city.
"To the uninformed, one might think the Duke of Chengguo hasn't entered the city yet," Jiang Qianhu remarked.
He and Lu Yunqi lingered in the shadowy confines beneath the city gate, avoiding direct sunlight and blending into the backdrop unnoticed by the crowds.
Jiang Qianhu eyed Lu Yunqi, who stood with arms crossed, gazing silently outward.
"As expected, milord's assessment was right. Miss Jun has indeed arrived today," he complimented.
Expressionless, Lu Yunqi stepped over the threshold but stopped short of stepping into the sunlight, staying in the wall's shadow. As a result, the citizens, entirely focused on Miss Jun, failed to notice him.
But one pair of eyes did catch him in that moment.
The rider, from her elevated perch on horseback, saw him instantly.
Lu Yunqi lifted his gaze slightly, his blank expression meeting hers.
The red-clad woman tilted her head slightly and let the horse whip in her hand tap lightly against her palm. The corners of her mouth lifted into a faint smile as her lips silently formed a phrase.
I'm back.
Lu Yunqi could read her lips clearly.
I'm back.
The sunlight suddenly grew piercingly bright. For a brief moment, Lu Yunqi's heart skipped a beat as time seemed to halt.
It wasn't her words that affected him, but her presence.
She had returned.
It wasn't merely someone returning; it was her—his her—who had come back.
...
...
(Four thousand five hundred words, spanning two chapters. Such a long segment! Such exquisite writing! Please cast your votes! Thank you, much appreciated!)