Those were all fierce, battle-hardened troops who had survived licking blood from the edges of blades. They could not be mentioned in the same breath as the commanders, generals, and soldiers of the imperial capital, who swaggered around with sabers hanging from their waists every day yet knew warfare only on paper. If they were ordered to charge into the capital, their battle cries alone would be enough to make the Imperial Guards tremble with fear. Distant water could not extinguish a nearby fire. Even if all one hundred thousand Imperial Guards were in the Crown Prince’s hands, Feng Xuanzhe’s side would still have a chance of victory. Moreover, how could Feng Xuanzhe, who had plotted for so long, possess no share of those forces himself? And after occupying the throne for so many years, how could Emperor Huawen have failed to guard against a palace coup and leave himself a final contingency? As far as Ning Xuan knew, the number of Imperial Guards controlled by Feng Xuanyi alone was nearly equal to the Crown Prince’s. However, among all the strategists now seated in Prince Yi’s Residence, perhaps only Feng Xuanyi himself and Ning Xuan knew that.
For some unknown reason, Feng Xuanzhe asked Ning Xuan again that day before everyone present, his expression solemn. “Exactly how many troops can you command with absolute certainty?”
Ning Xuan detected in those words the faint scent of an approaching storm. He did not know what had occurred in the imperial capital while he was away, but matters had evidently reached the point where they were preparing to make their move.
Instinctively, he glanced at Feng Xuanyi, who sat to one side wearing his usual carefree expression while pretending to be profound. In the eyes of outsiders, he was nothing more than an embroidered pillow—attractive but useless. Ning Xuan found it increasingly difficult to fathom what he was thinking.
“All fifty thousand soldiers stationed outside the city can be mobilized. The military tally from the western expedition is here.”
As he spoke, Ning Xuan reached inside his padded robe and took out a pitch-black jade token with a lifelike tiger’s head carved into its center.
The tiger tally was a symbol of authority and leverage to every military commander. Only while the tally remained in a general’s possession was his position secure. Without one, a general was merely decorative, possessing a title but no real power. This was also why Marquis Dingbei held such a transcendent position at court. It was not merely because he had served two reigns, accumulated magnificent military achievements, and spread his formidable reputation far and wide. More importantly, he controlled military authority. Whenever military affairs were concerned, even Emperor Huawen was little more than an observer who needed only to issue the decree at the appropriate moment. Of all the military commanders currently wielding genuine power at court, everyone except the Commander of the Imperial Guards and Ning Xuan was either Marquis Dingbei’s student or directly under his control. The share Ning Xuan had claimed had arrived at a dangerously opportune moment.
“Now, I must say a few words in our great general’s defense.” Prince Yu, Feng Xuanzhen, spoke in a half-joking tone. “Even without that token, the soldiers become as excited as though they’ve been injected with chicken blood the instant they see Lord Ning. They are perfectly willing to serve him and die on the battlefield for him. None of you witnessed the trust he commands within the army. He won every battle, and countless men practically worship him as a god. At the very least, during our time on the northern frontier, no one else’s orders carried any weight. From top to bottom, the entire army obeyed only General Ning.”
Ning Xuan had expected Feng Xuanzhe to continue, yet after hearing Feng Xuanzhen’s words, he abruptly ended the subject. This left Ning Xuan completely baffled. Everything discussed afterward consisted merely of trivial matters submitted by officials from various regions, matters that were neither particularly important nor entirely unnecessary. Ning Xuan grew drowsy listening to them, while the civil officials debated with tremendous enthusiasm.
Ning Xuan watched Feng Xuanzhe respond fluently, making decisions as effortlessly as though he were merely lifting a hand. Then he looked at Feng Xuanyi, who appeared inattentive and yawned repeatedly beside him. Ning Xuan’s heart tightened, and his already profound eyes grew even darker. Feng Xuanzhe undoubtedly possessed the ability to govern a nation and the imperial bearing required to pacify the realm. Unfortunately, he was hardly the only person who possessed such talent and bearing. If Heaven gave birth to Zhou Yu, why did it also give birth to Zhuge Liang? His own younger brother was not merely his equal, but surpassed him. When it came to schemes and concealed intentions, Feng Xuanzhe was far inferior. For instance, the younger brother he had never taken seriously—the younger brother he regarded as an incompetent wastrel—had secretly accumulated forces of unknown strength, perhaps enough to contend with him. Likewise, Feng Xuanzhe had repeatedly confirmed how many troops Ning Xuan controlled, believing those forces belonged to him, when Ning Xuan himself was merely another chess piece in Feng Xuanyi’s hands. How could Ning Xuan warn Feng Xuanzhe? How could he explain? How could he lead Feng Xuanzhe out of an ending that seemed to have been written long ago?
Elio’s Notes: Zhou Yu and Zhuge Liang are celebrated strategists from Romance of the Three Kingdoms. The famous lament, “Since Heaven gave birth to Zhou Yu, why did it also give birth to Zhuge Liang?” expresses the bitterness of being overshadowed by an even more formidable rival. Here, Feng Xuanzhe is compared to Zhou Yu and Feng Xuanyi to Zhuge Liang.
Meanwhile, Feng Xuanyi seemed to have returned to his former self—impulsive and capricious, wild and unrestrained, idle and uneducated. Not once did he look in Ning Xuan’s direction. He remained indifferent and distant, as though they did not know each other. Or perhaps, mindful that Ning Xuan had come from Feng Xuanzhe’s residence, he was deliberately avoiding him. It made the encounter on the snowy palace grounds during the previous night’s banquet seem like nothing more than Ning Xuan’s imagination.
Only when the meeting ended and everyone began leaving did Feng Xuanyi’s gaze drift over as they passed each other, meeting Ning Xuan’s eyes for the briefest instant. Ning Xuan immediately felt as though he had fallen into an ice cellar. That gaze seemed like a warning, as piercing and cutting as sharpened words. Yet it also seemed to contain nothing at all, merely hollow confusion. Nevertheless, cold air surged upward from the soles of Ning Xuan’s feet, flowing through every limb and bone and making him tremble uncontrollably. It was an unavoidable terror, fear rising from the very depths of his heart.
Ning Xuan instinctively knew that Feng Xuanyi must be plotting something—something terrible and utterly heedless of the consequences.
Unlike usual, Feng Xuanzhe did not send someone to ask Ning Xuan to remain at the residence a little longer. Yet Ning Xuan, contrary to his normal behavior, stayed until everyone else had left. A young servant silently and efficiently served fresh tea before withdrawing. The study held only the two of them and was so quiet that even the drop of a needle would have sounded distinct.
Restless and troubled, Ning Xuan deliberated repeatedly for a long time before finally speaking, as though he had made a decision. “Is the throne truly so important? If you had to choose between me and the throne, which would you choose?”
What a ridiculous question—to ask a man who had coveted the imperial throne for years whether he wanted the realm or the beauty. So long as Ning Xuan retained even a trace of reason or the ability to think, those words should never have left his mouth.
Yet Ning Xuan asked them anyway. He knew how laughable and absurd they were, but he was genuinely lost. The situation had long since exceeded anything he could comprehend merely by calmly analyzing it from the sidelines. How could someone caught within the game remain clear-sighted? Too much mist and uncertainty surrounded him, entangled with too many grudges and private feelings. Everything was hazy and indistinct, allowing him to perceive only an outline that he could never see clearly. He wanted to approach and investigate, yet that neither-near-nor-far distance remained between them, scratching at his heart like a cat’s claws and leaving him restless and uneasy.
Feng Xuanzhe froze. Ning Xuan’s heart immediately sank with him, contracting in a sharp ache. How could Feng Xuanzhe, who had always believed the throne already within his grasp, ever have considered such a question? Or perhaps he had always believed the two could coexist, while Ning Xuan’s demand was both abrupt and urgent.
“The two naturally coexist. There is no choice to be made.” Feng Xuanzhe was indeed someone born to stand above others. His astonishment vanished in a flash, and his face returned to perfect calm. Although Ning Xuan had clearly caught his momentary abnormality, Feng Xuanzhe met his gaze without the slightest evasion, almost making Ning Xuan believe he had imagined it. Despite his composure, however, the eyes fixed upon Ning Xuan overflowed with warmth.
As expected. Ning Xuan’s heart dimmed.
“What if—and I mean only if—I insisted that you choose between the throne and me?”
His heart beat increasingly violently, filled with both fear and anticipation. He knew he should not continue, yet the more he tried to suppress the feeling, the more uncontrollably it swelled.
“If you choose the throne, I will devote everything I possess to helping you obtain it. But after it is done, I will disappear from your sight and go somewhere you will never find me for the rest of your life. If you choose me, then abandon all the wealth, glory, authority, and status in your hands immediately and withdraw with me into the mountains. Which do you choose?”
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