Xie Jun walked toward the center of the hall. As Xie Jing turned, Xie Jun didn’t allow his gaze to rest on him even for a moment; instead, his eyes cut straight past Xie Jing’s shoulder, locking onto the terrified Cheng Wen.
Clearly recognizing Xie Jun’s face from when he was “alive,” Cheng Wen asked in a quivering voice, “Aren’t you afraid I’ll inform the Prime Minister’s Mansion that you are still alive?”
Xie Jun rubbed the pad of his thumb back and forth along the blade of Flying Light. “Even the Emperor knows I am alive; do you think the Prime Minister is in the dark? Furthermore, Lord Cheng, you ought to weigh whether you’ll even have a life left to carry those words to the Prime Minister or not.”
Cheng Wen hesitated upon hearing this. Xie Jun appeared completely unfazed by the prospect of being exposed to the Prime Minister’s surveillance. Unless he was being overconfident, the only explanation was that both he and Xie Jing had already been recruited by the Prime Minister’s Mansion, and the uncle and nephew were now serving the same master.
Xie Jing stood his ground impassively. The moment Cheng Wen turned back to glare at him, Xie Jing completely masked his shock. He wasn’t certain whether Xie Jun’s words were true—though he suspected Xie Jun might be bluffing, one thing was clear: Cheng Wen’s obvious fear of the Prime Minister’s manor was something he could exploit.
As Xie Jun engaged Cheng Wen’s subordinates, Xie Jing immediately recognized the movements as variations of the “Six Forms of Flying Light.” He had seen them performed by both Lu Lingcong and Xiao Yao but seeing Xie Jun execute them now gave him a profound sense of worldliness as if a lifetime had passed. Xie Jun had never specialized in martial arts; his family had no wish for him to join the military and risk injury, originally intending for him to follow the traditional path of the imperial examinations. However, since young men of his generation often idealized martial skill as a form of rebellion, he had some prior experience; but it had never reached this level of mastery.
Xie Jing could not follow his movements at all; the boy shifted and weaved with preternatural agility between the blades. Many of his actions carried the faint shadow of Xiao Yao. Unless he had practiced diligently every moment of these past years, tempered over and over in the heat of combat, Xie Jing could not imagine how a once-gentle child could have undergone such total metamorphosis.
The sound of clashing weapons within the mansion caught the attention of the Wang family servants waiting outside. Mindful of Xie Jing’s earlier warning, they did not dare let anything happen to him lest they jeopardize Wang Chu’s orders. By the time they pursued the commotion inside, Xie Jun had already disappeared into chaos. Cheng Wen’s men couldn’t catch him, and Xie Jing found no sign of where he had gone.
Upon returning to the capital, Xie Jing first reported to Wang Chu. He omitted Lu Lingcong’s movements and instead reported Cheng Wen’s various rebellious acts. He recounted the incident in the hall in full, matching the accounts given by the Wang servants, which enabled him to withstand Wang Chu’s scrutiny.
Jinling could be seen as small as a square chessboard or as vast and complex as a labyrinth. Searching for a single person was like looking for a needle in a haystack, even more so when searching for a dead man.
From beginning to end, the only clues Xie Jun had left for Xie Jing were “Xuanshi” and “The Emperor.”
Years ago, Xie Jun had been on a bright and smooth path. His birth had shaped his entire life; like his grandfather, his father, and Xie Jing himself before the arranged marriage, his future had been carefully charted with each step designed to advance within the confines of social approval and conventional expectations.
If not for the sudden catastrophe, a disgraceful remnant of the previous dynasty like the Xuanshi, those so-called “imperial hounds”, would never have crossed his path.
If Flying Light was in Xie Jun’s hands, did Lu Lingcong know? And if Xie Jun had sought refuge within the Xuanshi, had Xiao Yao aided him?
Xie Jing pursed his lips; his brow furrowed in silent contemplation. He revisited every interaction he’d had with the two since returning to the capital, searching for any trace of behavior or a single word that might have hinted at this.
But the conversations he had shared with Lu Lingcong were too many and too varied; if he hadn’t caught an anomaly at the time, it would be nearly impossible to force a recollection now. As for Xiao Yao, however, they had only met a handful of times…
Xie Jing suddenly remembered that day when the Xuanshi found a note imitating his handwriting in Wang Chu’s study. After giving him the note, Xiao Yao hesitated, admitting there was one matter she hadn’t yet revealed, but assuring him there was ample time: “When the moment comes, I will tell the Princess Consort.”
He sprang to his feet, ordered a horse to be prepared, and dashed out of the room, racing toward the banks of the Qinhua River. By this time, night had long since fallen. The Star-Plucking Tower was teeming with people; there was no sign of Xiao Yao. Frenzied with worry and nearly calling out her name in public, Xie Jing searched desperately until a servant slipped out to meet him, whispering, “Our master says to go straight to the water to see her.”
Xiao Yao was leaning against the prow of a boat. When she turned and saw Xie Jing, her expression suggested she had been expecting him for a long while: “I knew you would come.”
Xie Jing stepped onto the gunwale in two strides while looking toward the cabin behind her. “Can Miss Xiao speak of the matter you didn’t tell me last time now?”
Xiao Yao chuckled softly. “Hasn’t the Princess Consort already seen it? If you have questions, you might as well ask the person you’re looking for directly.”
Understanding her meaning, Xie Jing gave her a deep, formal bow. “For Miss Xiao’s great kindness to the Xie family, Jing shall surely repay it, even if it means grinding my bones to dust.”
Xiao Yao waved her hand and supported him by the elbow to raise him up, saying nothing.
Technically, it was Lu Lingcong who had formed the alliance with Xiao Yao years ago using Flying Light as the pledge; the Xuanshi aiding Prince Zhao’s Mansion could be considered part of that agreement. However, Xiao Yao taking in Xie Jun was an act of kindness that fell entirely outside the scope of her duty.
Xie Jing looked up at her. Over the years, the promises made by Prince Zhao’s Mansion to Xiao Yao had come to feel like a blank check, it was hard to redeem in the short term. Lu Lingcong could temporarily provide financial relief to Xiao Yao’s clansmen, but restoring their status, returning them to their ancestral homes, and reuniting their families was something that could not be easily or unimpededly accomplished by anyone other than those in power.
He did not dare say for certain that Prince Zhao’s Mansion would succeed. Xiao Yao and the Xuanshi served as a formidable, ever-ready weapon with eyes and ears everywhere, remaining consistent for over a decade. But if they bet on the wrong side, if Prince Zhao’s Mansion ultimately failed and they became prisoners, where would Xiao Yao go to find someone to fulfill the vow of protecting the Xiao clan of Lanling?
Yet in this life, the ability to make a choice is a strength in itself; once a choice is made, one must summon the courage to face its consequences. Xie Jing thought that Xiao Yao likely understood this very well, which was why she had never once asked Lu Lingcong “when the matter would be settled” over the years.
Perhaps her choice to extend a hand to Xie Jun and give him a place of refuge was because she herself had experienced a similar fate of family ruin and isolation in her youth. Regardless, from another perspective, “nothing ventured, nothing gained”; this life-saving favor could indeed serve as a golden opportunity for the Xiao clan to make a comeback, should Prince Zhao’s Mansion truly rise to power. Within the limits of Xiao Yao’s capabilities, saving Xie Jun was not a losing bargain for her.
Xie Jing stood dazed on the prow, lost in thought, until he finally heard Xiao Yao urge him, “Go inside, Princess Consort.”
Inside, Xie Jun sat by the lamp with his legs curled up while dozing off. He had actually sensed something unusual from the shift in the boat’s displacement, but since both open guests and secret members of the Xuanshi frequently moved about Xiao Yao’s boat, he hadn’t paid it much mind.
As the curtain was lifted, the person stepping into the cabin flickered before his eyes, nearly making him believe his sight had failed him. He instinctively called out, “Little Uncle?”
Xie Jing walked toward him like a wandering soul, crouched down, and leaned in to scrutinize his features. Finally, he gripped the boy’s hand firmly. “I knew it…”
The pain he felt was even more acute than when he had reunited with Lu Shuqing; it was like tearing off a scab that was almost healed to reveal raw, ugly, and tender flesh; forced to revisit the bone-deep moment the wound was branded even as he celebrated this rebirth.
Xie Jun gave a somewhat helpless, bitter smile. “I originally intended to avoid you, Little Uncle, which is why I fled in chaos after the rescue that day. Who would have thought you’d find me after all?”
Xie Jing spoke incoherently, “How… how can this be?”
Xie Jun spoke slowly, “The last thing I remember is Mother pushing me through the northeast side gate… but everything inside was already engulfed in flames.”
He turned his face toward Xie Jing and gazed at him steadily. “When I woke up, I was already in the Tiger Division camp in Huaibei, inside His Highness’s tent.”
Initially, Xie Jing didn’t even comprehend who the title “Highness” referred to in this context. He sat there dazed, blankly wondering who else in Jinling besides Lu Lingcong could be called “Highness.” He even thought of Lu Lingzhen, but Xie Jun’s expression told him it was clearly the answer he found impossible to believe.
Xie Jun continued: “His Highness never took the initiative to speak to me about the details of that day, and I never dared to ask. Even now, I still do not know how His Highness managed to rescue me.”
Xie Jing’s gaze fell blankly upon the candle flame, flickering into a dazed blur. He murmured, his voice as low as a whisper: “Why did he… why did he never mention this to me?”
Xie Jun immediately replied, “Little Uncle, please, you must not blame His Highness! Actually… it was I who begged His Highness and Master Xiao not to tell you I was still alive for the time being.”
Xie Jing looked at him in shock. He opened his mouth but didn’t dare let the words beneath his tongue escape, fearing the answer he dreaded most. He wanted to ask: Is it because I attached myself to the Wang clan, forming factions for personal gain and running their errands, trampling the reputation of the Xie family, that you no longer wish to acknowledge me as your uncle?
However, Xie Jun simply said calmly, “Our family met with misfortune and suffered such a tragic disaster. If the person I value and hold most dear in this world knew I was alive, there would be attachments and constraints. If something were to happen to me while seeking to clear our name and take revenge, it would only add more pain to my kin. Rather than that, it was better not to recognize each other at all and to act as though I were truly dead, so everyone could live in peace and go about their own lives.”
He lowered his eyes and smiled slightly, “Actually, my time in the capital over these four years has been very limited, but I would occasionally go to see Qing’er. Once or twice, I think he might have sensed that I was watching him.”
Xie Jing’s heart stirred, and he instinctively asked, “Then that bloody handprint in your room the other day…”
Upon hearing this, Xie Jun suddenly showed a hint of a mischievous youth’s expression. “I had just returned to the capital those few days. Seeing that Little Uncle was constantly under the watchful eyes of those Wang family servants without a moment’s peace, I thought I’d stir up a little mischief to give them a fright. Ideally, I wanted to spook them all out of Wuyi Lane so Little Uncle could live a bit more freely.”
As he spoke, he revealed a glimpse of a sharp canine tooth, which somewhat dissipated that unfamiliar, somber air. Xie Jing was dazed for a moment; in his mind, he could vaguely see the younger Xie Jun frolicking around him, the complete opposite of Lu Shuqing, never still for a second, greeting siblings and relatives at banquets, and cracking jokes to make his grandparents smile. The echoes of his laughter seemed to still linger in his ears.
Xie Jing lightly stroked his cheek, then realized that Xie Jun was now a man who had reached his capping ceremony, no longer the young boy he could fuss over like his own children. He initially wanted to ask if Xie Jun had gone to see the eldest daughter of the Li family, but on second thought, if the boy was unwilling to burden his loved ones with worry before his great revenge was exacted, he likely wouldn’t leave Li Ye with even a shred of hope, lest he waste the girl’s life for nothing.
“Were you also following in the shadows this time in Huaiyang? How did that Commandery Governor surnamed Cheng recognize you?”
“I was afraid Little Uncle might encounter some mishap while away, so I informed Master and quietly followed along. Who would have thought you’d actually run into trouble?” Xie Jun exhaled. “After Cheng Wen resigned back then, he didn’t return to his hometown; instead, he stayed in the capital and remained in close contact with the former officials of the late emperor’s Eastern Palace. At that time, I often took Qing’er to Grand Tutor Zhang’s Mansion. With all sorts of people coming and going, I happened to cross paths with Cheng Wen by chance.”
Xie Jing caught the way he addressed Xiao Yao, “Master?”
Xie Jun replied, “When I first woke up, my spirit was broken. His Highness didn’t feel comfortable letting me return to the capital alone, so he kept me with the Tiger Division for several months to temper my character. Later, when they set out for Yinzhou, His Highness entrusted Master Xiao to take me in. That was when I entered the Xuanshi; whenever I am in the capital, I stay at the Star-Plucking Tower.”
Xie Jing frowned. “Then how did you get involved with His Majesty?”
Xie Jun gave a bitter smile. “While I was on an assignment at the beginning of this year, I accidentally left a trail that was discovered by Madam Cui, the second wife of the Prime Minister’s Mansion. She used that as leverage to strike a deal with me.”
Xie Jing had not expected Cui Shushi to have a hand in this as well: “Did she want the Xuanshi to do something for the Cui family?”
Xie Jun shook his head. “I didn’t reveal my identity or lead her to the Xuanshi or Master. Madam Cui is an expert in these kinds of power-play transactions; it was enough for her just to know I was alive and possessed significant capability for action. As for who exactly was protecting me behind the scenes, she had the tact not to pry.”
Xie Jing recalled Cui Shushi’s shock at Qinhuai Chun upon learning that the Xuanshi had existed in secret all along. Perhaps at that moment, she had already connected Xie Jun’s survival to them.
“She didn’t demand that I serve her or the Cui clan of Qinghe,” Xie Jun continued. “She introduced me to His Majesty. As long as I follow His Majesty’s instructions and carry out the maneuvers he cannot accomplish on his own, she will provide cover for me by ensuring that I can move freely in and out of the capital and the various government offices and departments associated with the Wang clan.”
Xie Jing immediately understood Cui Shushi’s intentions. Since the death of Grand Commandant Cui, her maternal family had no one to support them and had been gradually bled dry by the Wang clan. In reality, they had long lacked the ability to engage in conspiracies or maneuvers; having Xie Jun would have been useless to her. She was seemingly the weakest player in this game of chest currently unfolding in Jinling—possessing no armed forces, no personnel to deploy, and no intricate web of nepotism within the bureaucracy.
However, Cui Shushi was precisely the type to exploit this weakness; she plotted only through psychological manipulation and the clashing of power, never once touching a blade or witnessing the shedding of blood herself. Rather than keeping a capable talent like Xie Jun for herself, she handed him over to Lu Lingzhang, using him as a bargaining chip to extract beneficial rewards from the emperor. Similarly, in her collusion with Prince Zhao’s Mansion, she did not personally intervene; she gave her private seal to Xie Jing and thereafter remained completely indifferent to what they did with it.
In the days to come, whether Prince Zhao’s Mansion failed to prevail, the Wang family’s great estate crumbled, or the emperor was disgraced and forced to abdicate, she would always have another master to rely on; and could ensure the Cui clan of Qinghe withdrew from the struggle unscathed.
“You agreed?” Xie Jing asked after a long period of contemplation.
Xie Jun hesitated for a moment before nodding. “…I also wish to know exactly how much the current Majesty was involved in the catastrophe that befell the Xie family.”
Xie Jing was momentarily speechless; even he could not answer that. He had untangled the handiwork of the Wang clan and discovered the third force behind the delivery of the note, yet he still could not grasp what role the person involved, Lu Lingzhang, had played in this farce.
But one thing was certain: given the way Wang Chu had been testing and guarding against him all this time, Lu Lingzhang could never be merely a puppet controlled by others.
“What has His Majesty had you do?”
Xie Jun blinked. “Little Uncle, do you remember last year’s spring hunt at Mount Tang when Qing’er escaped from the cave, the Imperial Guards stationed there happened to be in the wrong position, allowing him to slip away?”
Xie Jing gasped in shock. “That was you?!”
Xie Jun nodded. “His Majesty is confined to the golden palace, making it difficult for him to come and go. Even if he learned of Wang Chu’s plan in advance, he couldn’t personally redeploy the Imperial Guards either. Fortunately, Wang Chu had already left Mount Tang by then, so I took His Majesty’s handwritten decree to move the troops guarding that cave entrance. However, from beginning to end, that is the only thing His Majesty has asked me to do.”
A long silence fell over the cabin. Xie Jing stared blankly at the stern of the boat, utterly speechless.
He recalled his first meeting with Lu Lingcong in Yongzhou, where he had blamed him for campaigning across the south for those three years instead of staying in the capital to accompany the solitary Lu Shuqing. Only at this moment did he realize that was not the case at all.
Lu Lingcong had left their son in Jinling, yet kept Xie Jun, who had just lost his father and grandfather; by his side. He had been fulfilling the duty of protection and upbringing on behalf of a negligent “Little Uncle.” He had been atoning on behalf of a person thousands of miles away, for that bone-deep guilt and regret of watching kin die before one’s eyes while remaining powerless to help.
Xie Jing did not know how to describe his current state of mind. The surname he bore—the “Xie” that was his was tainted. It hadn’t started when he first prostrated himself beneath the eaves of the Prime Minister’s Mansion, scurrying for scraps; rather, it had been covered in dust, stained with grime, and splattered with mud from the very moment he married into Prince Zhao’s Mansion in the eighth year of Zhenyou. He had stepped across that grand palace threshold that was framed by bone and lacquered with blood, and from that day on, the “irises and orchids” of the Xie clan’s noble lineage no longer had anything to do with him.
Why did the ironclad decree of merit spare him from execution? Because he no longer had any ties to them. Since he no longer shared in their glory, he also did not have to share in their death. Xie Jun was the rightful descendant of the Xie clan of the Chen Commandery; only he was qualified to say his bloodline was untainted.
Xie Jing suddenly thought back to that post station on New Year’s Eve, when he had asked Lu Lingcong if there was anything that required him to “bring out the banner of the Xie family.” Lu Lingcong had replied that “everything has already been settled.” If the one carrying the Xie family banner was not this shame-filled survivor, then—
“Jun’er,” Xie Jing called out, “where were you before returning to the capital this time?”
“From after the Mount Tang spring hunt last year until the end of the year, I was in Yinzhou,” Xie Jun answered quickly. “His Highness had me use the name of the Xie clan of the Chen Commandery to secretly win over and lobby the various Jiangnan gentry outside of Kuaiji Commandery. It didn’t matter if I couldn’t persuade them; it was enough just to sow discord between them and the Wang clan.”
With a bit of thought, Xie Jing grasped Lu Lingcong’s strategy. Cheng Wen, the Commandery Governor of Huaiyang, was a prime example: he feared the Prime Minister’s Mansion but not the emperor, yet he was unaware that the two had long since been at odds. If a coup truly occurred in the capital and the Prime Minister’s Mansion summoned troops from the surrounding prefectures for self-preservation, they would undoubtedly do so under the guise of “protecting the emperor.” By then, if these local officials knew the hand lighting the beacon fire belonged to the prime minister and not the emperor, the natural deterrent of “Imperial Majesty” would be gone. They would inevitably hesitate and observe before deciding whether to deploy their troops.
Xiao Yao plucked a string of arpeggios from outside the boat, a sharp reminder that the hour was growing late. Xie Jing had no choice but to prepare his departure before giving Xie Jun one last string of careful instructions, “Keep everything as it was. Do not take risks to see or protect me. I have the Wang clan at my back; I won’t fall anytime soon. You must be doubly cautious in your movements—being spotted by Madam Cui was a stroke of luck, but if you encounter others, the consequences will be unpredictable.”
Xie Jun nodded, committing each word to heart. “You must take care as well, Little Uncle.”
Xie Jing rose, but as he was about to lift the curtain to leave, he caught the dagger hanging at Xie Jun’s waist with his peripheral vision. A thought flickered through his mind. “All these years… Flying Light has been with you…”
“His Highness said this was your personal belonging. He entrusted it to me for safekeeping, saying that if fate allowed, we would surely meet again.”
Xie Jun moved to unbuckle it and return it, but Xie Jing shook his head to stop him. He only asked, “So, you know the Six Forms of Flying Light? Did Miss Xiao teach you, or…”
“His Highness taught me. By the time I returned to the capital to stay with Master, I had already mastered them.”
Xie Jing gave a noncommittal hum. After a long pause, he asked softly, “What is the final form of the Six Forms of Flying Light?”
Xie Jun looked surprised. In his mind, Xie Jing had been the master of that blade for ten years; even if he didn’t practice the forms, it seemed impossible that he wouldn’t know their names.
In truth, even Xie Jing felt a sense of dazed realization. In those years, the number of times he had used Flying Light was pitifully few, and his movements had been entirely without discipline. He had long since stopped being curious, stopped wondering what that final form, which was the one Lu Lingcong had refused to teach him, telling him by saying “You won’t need it in this lifetime” was.
Even so, Xie Jun followed his lead and set his hand on the hilt. The dagger slid free, and he even demonstrated the motion for Xie Jing: the blade reversed in his grip, a cold gleam flashing forward, stopping just a hair’s breadth from his own throat.
Xie Jing heard him speak the words on Lu Lingcong’s behalf; words that had arrived fourteen years late—
“The final form is called, ‘Bringing Down the Jade and Stone Together’.”
