Chapter 58

Proofreader : Mim

The defeat of an army of two hundred thousand, with ten thousand enemies slain, and the remaining rebels driven back into Yizhou territory—

It was unimaginable that such a feat could be accomplished by only fifteen hundred men.

Yet the one leading them was Xie Lanxu, the son of the legendary Crown Prince. Under his command, everything seemed perfectly natural and expected.

The gathered townspeople, ignorant of the specifics, knew only that the siege of Mingyue Tower had been lifted. The days of fear were over. At once, cheers erupted throughout the city, shaking the heavens.

People rushed forward to search for their loved ones among the returning warriors, while others hurried home to fetch eggs or flowers to offer as thanks.

In the crowd, the Moqi siblings chirped like excited sparrows around their stunned parents. Meanwhile, in front of Xie Lanxu and Li Zhi stood the speechless Yu Jingrong, who remained wide-eyed and silent as Xie Lanxu calmly explained his plan, the events leading up to it, and the final outcome.

Everyone listening was left stunned in silence, trying to gather their thoughts after the immense shock. The only exception was Deputy Commander Liang Yu, whose face had turned an unnatural shade of red, like a slab of stale pork liver on a butcher’s board.

 

Seething, he bellowed, “Xie Lanxu! You have some nerve! Violating military orders, commandeering troops, and impersonating official commands… Do you think that just because you’re a royal clansman, I won’t dare to act against you?!”

Liang Yu’s angry, frost-cold voice clashed starkly with the atmosphere of celebration. It was like a thunderclap on a clear day, silencing the cheers and drawing all eyes to him. Even the jubilant citizens froze in confusion.

Yu Jingrong, ever the upright but socially awkward official, tried to mediate. However, his lack of eloquence only poured oil on Liang Yu’s raging fire.

“Deputy Commander, His Highness acted to save Mingyue Tower from peril. After all, the city had been under siege for three days, and the military council failed to produce a solution. The people were panicked and desperate. This rebellion was well-prepared, with two hundred thousand troops mobilized. Although we sent an urgent plea for reinforcements, distant water cannot quench immediate thirst. His Highness’s victory has spared countless lives!”

Liang Yu, livid, retorted sharply: “So what you’re saying is that Mingyue Tower’s predicament was my fault for incompetence?!”

“Mingyue Tower has four gates, twenty-four towers, and countless arrow posts. Not three days, not even thirty days of siege could breach its defenses!” Liang Yu barked, growing angrier.

“But the city’s grain stores—”

“Enough!” Liang Yu roared, cutting him off. “You’re just making excuses for Xie Lanxu! Are you in league with him?!”

“You—”

Seeing the situation deteriorate, the Moqi clan’s patriarch, having retrieved his four children safely, regained his calm and stepped in to mediate.

“Enough, enough! This is a time for celebration. Can’t we let the people enjoy a day of happiness?”

“Silence!” Liang Yu barked again, ignoring Moqi Ling. “Let His Highness explain himself!”

At this point, Li Zhi quietly moved to stand behind Xie Lanxu, shielding herself from Liang Yu’s furious spittle.

This battle had greatly elevated Xie Lanxu’s standing. It was now clear to everyone that his rise was inevitable. With only five hundred men, he had achieved what Liang Yu’s ten thousand could not.

Everyone present could see that the tide had turned. Once news of this victory reached the capital, Liang Yu would be lucky if he wasn’t branded for negligence and incompetence.

Liang Yu’s angry shouting was nothing more than the last, desperate flailing of a drowning man.

Every person there—officials, warriors, and commoners alike—stood behind Xie Lanxu.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures. I hope Deputy Commander can forgive me,” Xie Lanxu said calmly.

“Forgive you?!” Liang Yu seethed. “You violated military orders, commandeered troops, and impersonated commands—each of these is punishable by death! If we let you off just because you were lucky enough to win, then what purpose does military law serve?!”

“And what does Deputy Commander intend to do?” Xie Lanxu asked, his tone mild.

“Death may be avoided, but punishment is inevitable!” Liang Yu declared, his voice booming with self-righteous authority.

Xie Lanxu smiled faintly. “If the Deputy Commander disapproves of my actions and insists on punishing me, then you’ll have to wait until I return to the capital and the Imperial Court intervenes.”

“A general in the field is not bound by orders from his sovereign. Do you understand the meaning of that? You violated military law, and you will be judged by military law! Once I’ve dealt with you, I’ll personally report to the Imperial Court!” Liang Yu’s arrogance was unrelenting.

“You certainly speak with authority, Deputy Commander,” Xie Lanxu said, his smile deepening. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were one of the Three Ministers of the Central Government.”

Liang Yu’s face contorted, and for a moment, he seemed to choke on his own anger. His desperation to save face was so palpable it looked as if he’d resort to anything, even making a scene before the entire city.

Li Zhi, however, remained untroubled. She quietly counted the moments in her head. The other one should be arriving any minute now—

“Liang Yu, mind your manners before His Highness.”

A familiar voice rang out, punctuated by a series of dry coughs. The crowd gasped collectively, turning to look at the source of the sound.

A sedan chair was lowered, and from it emerged Lu Han—his face pale, his body frail, but his authority undiminished.

“Commander!”

Gasps of astonishment rippled through the crowd.

Supported by his servant, Ma Guozi, Lu Han approached Liang Yu, his steps steady despite his weakened state.

“His Highness took a calculated risk—was it not because of your arrogance, stubbornness, and refusal to heed good advice?” Lu Han’s voice was sharp, though his illness lent it a slight hoarseness.

“Commander, I—”

Notes on Context

1. Imperial Clan Court (Zongrenfu): A judicial body responsible for managing and disciplining members of the imperial family. Liang Yu’s claim to punish Xie Lanxu without involving this court is an overreach of his authority.

“Enough! You don’t need to say more. I’ve already been informed of everything that happened while I was ill,” Lu Han said coldly, his voice firm despite his frail appearance. “You’ve been monopolizing military and political authority in Mingyue Tower, yet you’ve been careless and arbitrary in your actions. This has led to unrest among the people and instability within the military ranks! Fortunately, His Highness risked his life, strategized meticulously, and infiltrated the enemy camp to resolve Mingyue Tower’s crisis. And yet, you dare to accuse him?! Have you no shame? Get out of my sight!”

Liang Yu’s eyes trembled. Unable to meet Lu Han’s gaze, he slinked back, his face ashen.

Turning to Xie Lanxu, Lu Han bowed deeply and made a move to kneel.

“Your Highness, on behalf of the people of Mingyue Tower, I thank you for saving us from certain death!”

Before Xie Lanxu could fully support the bowing Lu Han, the surrounding commoners began kneeling one after another.

One after another, they dropped to their knees like a wave rolling across the street. In mere moments, the entire avenue was filled with kneeling citizens. Their eyes glistened with tears, their faces brimming with heartfelt gratitude. They were thankful to Xie Lanxu for saving their home from the flames of war, for fulfilling his promise, and for standing with them to resist the invaders even in the face of danger.

Before long, Moqi Ling, his wife, and Yu Jingrong also joined in kneeling. So did the Moqi siblings, alongside the bloodied soldiers who had returned triumphant from the battlefield.

Their eyes were filled with faith and loyalty.

Watching this scene, Li Zhi understood—Xie Lanxu had achieved everything he sought to gain through this battle.

Both Xie Lanxu and Li Zhi had gotten what they wanted.

—–

In the quiet of the Bamboo Courtyard, Xie Lanxu reclined against the wooden chaise by the window. He had just changed into fresh clothes.

Lu Han had already written and dispatched a new report to the court, requesting recognition and honors for Xie Lanxu and all those involved, including the elderly woman who had lost her son and was now living alone. For now, everyone involved was staying in the expansive Duhu Mansion.

To allow the heroes of the day to rest peacefully, Lu Han had given explicit orders that no one was to disturb the Bamboo Courtyard. The only one left to serve Xie Lanxu was, naturally, Li Zhi.

Xie Lanxu held a book in his hands, but Li Zhi knew he hadn’t read a single word.

“Ah-Li, are you still sulking?” Li Zhi sat on the footrest, leaning against the chaise and idly fiddling with the hem of Xie Lanxu’s robe. She gazed at him with a mix of boredom and curiosity.

Xie Lanxu remained impassive, his eyes fixed on the same spot on the page as though lost in thought—or perhaps not looking at anything at all.

“Ah-Li, please don’t stay angry at me. I know I was wrong…” Li Zhi said softly.

Unexpectedly, her words drew Xie Lanxu’s gaze.

“You know you were wrong?” His tone was cold. “What exactly did you do wrong?”

Li Zhi wasn’t entirely sure what her mistake was. She only knew that ever since their return to the Duhu mansion, Xie Lanxu had been distant and cold, as though sulking with someone invisible.

After some probing, she realized that this “invisible person” was herself.

“Because I didn’t consult with you before scarring my own face?” she ventured uncertainly.

Xie Lanxu said nothing, only continuing to fix her with a cold stare.

Relieved that she had guessed correctly, Li Zhi continued, “If Moqi Chuanmin didn’t believe that capturing me was a coincidence, the rest of the plan would’ve fallen apart. Any other excuse would’ve been too far-fetched. The fact that I was truly bitten by a venomous centipede was the most convincing reason. Moqi Chuanmin likely never suspected that the trap had already been set from that very moment.”

She smiled, trying to use the victory to lighten the tense atmosphere, but Xie Lanxu remained unmoved.

“Ah-Li, if you’re worried about my appearance, rest assured. I already prepared an antidote in advance and consulted a doctor. As long as I started applying the medicine within five days of the bite, there’s little chance of scarring.”

“…That’s not the reason.”

“It’s not?”

Li Zhi was taken aback by Xie Lanxu’s response.

“Didn’t it hurt?” he asked, his dark eyebrows furrowed tightly. His gaze bore into hers, trying to understand something he couldn’t fathom.

Li Zhi gently took his hand and spoke softly, “It hurt a little. But it doesn’t compare to the pain I feel when you’re upset with me.”

“…Smooth-talker.”

Xie Lanxu’s expression remained cold, but he allowed her to hold his hand.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked.

“It doesn’t anymore.” Li Zhi smiled.

Even with a veil covering her face, her bright, sunlit smile could not be hidden.

No matter what hardships or injuries she endured, she always seemed full of vitality. Her apparent fearlessness and resilience, as if she didn’t even feel pain, repeatedly drew Xie Lanxu’s attention.

“Anywhere else?” he asked softly. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Li Zhi shook her head with a smile.

“Did they harm you after they captured you?”

“With my hideous face? Who would dare?”

“Did anyone hit you?”

“They wanted to trick you into rescuing me. How could they dare?”

Li Zhi told a small lie.

Instinctively, she chose to lie in response to this question. Afterward, she couldn’t even explain to herself why she’d done it.

But it didn’t matter. She had told countless lies in her life, and one more wouldn’t make a difference.

“If anyone hurts you,” Xie Lanxu said, his voice low and steady, “I’d have them torn apart by five horses.”

Li Zhi knew this wasn’t a mere declaration or empty threat. He meant it—literally.

“With those words from Ah-Li, I’m not afraid of anything,” she said, her voice light and cheerful, as she rested her head against his palm.

She could feel Xie Lanxu’s fingers trembling slightly.

At first, she thought he was trembling with emotion. Then she realized—he was trying to touch the wound beneath her veil. But he was too cautious, too hesitant, as though even the gentlest touch might cause her pain.

Realizing this, Li Zhi tilted her head, moving the scarred side of her face closer to his fingertips.

The moment his fingers touched the veil, Xie Lanxu froze. His hand stiffened, unmoving.

After a long pause, his muscles slowly relaxed. His palm pressed gently against her cheek, feeling her warmth through the veil.

Li Zhi closed her eyes, quietly listening to the wind outside and the rustle of bamboo leaves.

Meanwhile, Xie Lanxu stared intently at her pale, delicate profile. The dark red scar beneath the veil stabbed at his heart, filling him with self-recrimination and pain.

So this is what regret feels like.

The humanity he had long sought, which he thought he had abandoned after accepting himself as a “monster,” had returned to him so simply and unexpectedly.

“…Banban.” He leaned closer, his voice softer than the rustling wind.

“Hmm?” Li Zhi tilted her head up to meet his gaze.

“I’m willing to marry you.”