Chapter 4:
Last Descendant

 

SHEN ZECHUAN WATCHED a pair of soldier’s boots crush snow underfoot as the stranger approached. When he was close enough, he nudged Shen Zechuan’s face up with a toe, tainting the leather with blood.

“Shen Wei is your old man?” The voice was muffled beneath the helmet.

Crimson seeped through Shen Zechuan’s clenched teeth despite his best effort to keep it in; even when he pressed his hands over his mouth, he couldn’t hide it. He didn’t answer.

The stranger looked down at him. “I asked you a question.”

Shen Zechuan lowered his head with a muttered affirmative, mouth filled with blood.

“He’s the eighth son of Shen Wei,” Ji Lei offered, seeing an opening. “His name is Shen…”

The stranger removed his helmet, revealing a youthful face. The gyrfalcon wheeling overhead came to land on his shoulder, its wings scattering a puff of fine snow. He looked at Shen Zechuan as if looking at a pair of worn-out shoes. It was hard to tell if his gaze contained disdain or loathing, but it was as frigid and cutting as a blade.

Shen Zechuan didn’t know him—but he recognized the Libei Armored Cavalry.

When Shen Wei had fled pathetically westward, Cizhou became Zhongbo’s last line of defense. The Libei Armored Cavalry had sped south, and the Heir of Libei, Shizi8 Xiao Jiming, led his troops through heavy snow for three days without rest, crossing the Glacial River straight toward Cizhou. To the astonishment of all, Shen Wei failed to defend Cizhou, and Libei’s troops had found themselves besieged. If Xiao Jiming hadn’t had reinforcements on the way, it would have ended in another bloodbath.

Libei had loathed the Shen Clan of Zhongbo since that day. This youth was not Xiao Jiming—but he had a gyrfalcon on his shoulder and rode freely in Qudu. He could only be the Prince of Libei’s youngest son and Xiao Jiming’s brother: Xiao Chiye.

Ji Lei had a mind to fan the flames, but seeing Deputy General Zhao Hui looming behind Xiao Chiye, he kept his mouth shut.

Xiao Chiye tossed his helmet to Zhao Hui. His lips curled into a smile, and that razor-sharp gaze dissolved like melting ice. A frivolous temperament settled over him like a cloak; under it, his armor suddenly seemed out of place. “Your Excellency.” The young man threw his arm around Ji Lei’s shoulders. “I’ve kept you waiting.”

“It’s been two years since we last met—you’ve become so distant, Er-gongzi!”9 Ji Lei met Xiao Chiye’s eyes, and they both laughed.

“I’m carrying a blade, see. I’m pretty much half a soldier now,” Xiao Chiye said, pointing down to the scabbard at his belt.

Ji Lei seemed to notice it for the first time. “An excellent blade!” He chuckled along with Xiao Chiye. “It must have been a rough journey, coming all this way to the royal rescue. Let’s have a drink tonight after you report to His Majesty!”

Xiao Chiye gestured regretfully toward the deputy general behind him. “My elder brother sent a minder; how could we drink to our hearts’ content? How about in a few days once I’ve time to breathe. It’ll be my treat.”

Zhao Hui bowed expressionlessly to Ji Lei. Ji Lei only smiled in response; to Xiao Chiye he said, “Let’s head to the palace, then. The ceremonial guards are expecting you.”

The pair turned toward the palace, chatting and laughing. Zhao Hui followed, casting a long look at Shen Zechuan as he went. The Embroidered Uniform Guard nearby caught the hint; they hauled Shen Zechuan back to the prison.

Ji Lei watched Xiao Chiye all the way until he entered the palace. The moment he was alone with his men, he spat indignantly at the ground. The genial smile dropped, leaving only a sneer.

This ruffian was usually so impudent and rash. It would be no surprise if he killed a man. Who would have expected this numbskull was crafty enough to handle the situation with such care? One kick, and he’d let Shen Zechuan go.

 

Zhao Hui handed Xiao Chiye a handkerchief as they entered the palace. He wiped his hands as he walked.

“That kick was too risky,” Zhao Hui murmured. “If the last descendant of that Shen dog up and died, the empress dowager would be awfully displeased.”

Xiao Chiye’s smile sank into gloom. He had come fresh from the battlefield, and his murderous aura was so hostile the eunuch leading them didn’t dare eavesdrop.

“That was exactly my intent.” Xiao Chiye spoke with cold detachment. “That old dog Shen Wei made a cemetery of Zhongbo. They’ve been burying soldiers from the Chashi Sinkhole for half a month with no end in sight. And now the Hua Clan wants to protect that dog’s last descendant because of some personal connections? How could they expect everything to work out in their favor? Besides, my brother rode thousands of miles to come to the capital’s aid; there are no greater honors left to bestow on him. Libei is at the peak of its glory; it has become a very long thorn in the empress dowager’s side.”

“As my master the shizi often says, the moon waxes only to wane,” Zhao Hui said. “The reward from Qudu this time is most likely a Hongmen banquet10—every dancer secretly brandishing a sword. Our main forces are camped thirty miles from here, but the eyes and ears of noble families are around every corner in the city. Now is not the time to be impulsive, Gongzi.”

Xiao Chiye tossed the handkerchief back to Zhao Hui. “Got it.”

 

“Is A-Ye here?”

The Xiande Emperor was feeding his parrot. The creature had been spoiled rotten and was wily as anything; the instant the emperor spoke, it opened its beak and screeched, “A-Ye is here! A-Ye is here! A-Ye pays his obeisance to Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Long live! Long live! Long live Your Majesty!”

“He should be here now,” answered Xiao Jiming, the Heir of Libei, his hands full of bird feed.

“It’s been two years, has it not?” The Xiande Emperor prodded at the parrot. “We haven’t seen him for two years. The boy takes after your father; he grows so fast. We fear he’ll be even taller than you someday.”

“He’s taller to be sure, but he’s still a child at heart,” Xiao Jiming said. “Spends all his time at home stirring up trouble.”

The emperor was about to say more when the coughing took him again; Pan Rugui held out a cup of tea, and the emperor took a sip to soothe his throat. Before he could continue, a eunuch announced Xiao Chiye’s arrival.

“Come in.” The Xiande Emperor lowered himself into his chair and leaned against an armrest. “Come in, let us have a look at you.”

The palace eunuch drew aside the curtain, and Xiao Chiye strode across the threshold, bringing the winter chill with him as he kowtowed before the emperor.

“A fine lad you are, all mighty in your armor,” the emperor said with a smile. “We heard that when the Biansha troops raided our roads and relay stations at the frontier, you showed your prowess and captured several alive. Isn’t that so?”

Xiao Chiye laughed. “Your Majesty flatters me. I did catch a few, but they were all small fry.”

The year before last, the Twelve Tribes of Biansha had launched a raid on the food supply route north of the pass. It had been Xiao Chiye’s first time leading troops in battle, and he’d received a thrashing from those Biansha baldies. Xiao Jiming had to clean up the mess for him. News of it spread, and the incident became a punchline that undermined Xiao Chiye’s reputation; he was now widely known as an infamous good-for-nothing.

Seeing him so dismissive, the Xiande Emperor’s tone softened. “You are young. Just to ride a horse while brandishing a spear is no small skill in itself. Your elder brother is one of our nation’s Four Great Generals; surely he regularly instructs you on military tactics. Jiming, we can see that A-Ye is motivated. You mustn’t be too hard on him.”

Xiao Jiming solemnly promised.

“The Libei Armored Cavalry distinguished itself in coming to our rescue this time,” the emperor added. “In addition to yesterday’s major reward, today, we wish to give A-Ye some small consideration.”

Xiao Jiming rose to his feet and bowed. “It will be my brother’s honor to receive His Majesty’s favor. However, he has no merits nor contributions to speak of. How could he receive such a lofty reward?”

The emperor paused. “You crossed thousands of miles and the Glacial River to come to our aid; your merits are immeasurable. Even your wife, Lu Yizhi, shall be rewarded, let alone A-Ye.” Turning to Xiao Chiye, he said, “Libei is a frontier of great strategic importance. You are young, A-Ye; surely you will find Libei dreary if you remain there long. We wish for you to come to Qudu and take up a post as the carefree commander of the Imperial Regalia. What say you?”

Xiao Chiye had knelt motionless all this while. Now he raised his head. “If it’s a reward bestowed by Your Majesty, of course I accept. My whole family is made up of uncouth and burly warriors—I can’t even find a place to sit and enjoy a song. If I stay in Qudu, I’ll doubtless find life here so agreeable I’ll never want to go back.”

The Xiande Emperor laughed aloud. “What a lad! We’ve asked you to take up an official post, but you just want to have fun! If your father heard, we’re afraid you wouldn’t escape a beating.”

The atmosphere in the hall was relaxed; the emperor even kept the brothers behind for a meal together. When it was time for them to go, the emperor remarked, “We heard Qidong sent someone as well. Who is it?”

“Lu Guangbai from the Bianjun Commandery,” Xiao Jiming replied.

The emperor leaned back in his chair with an air of fatigue. “Tell him to return tomorrow,” he said as he waved them off.

Xiao Chiye followed Xiao Jiming out. They hadn’t gone far when they spied a man kneeling on the veranda outside. Pan Rugui approached first, leaning over with a smile. “General Lu, General Lu!”

“Pan-gonggong,” Lu Guangbai answered wearily, opening his eyes.

“You should get up, General,” Pan Rugui advised him. “His Majesty has retired for the day. You won’t be able to see him till tomorrow.”

Lu Guangbai was a reticent man. He nodded without another word and rose to his feet to walk out with the Xiao brothers. Only once they stepped out of the palace gates and mounted their horses did Xiao Jiming ask, “Why were you kneeling?”

“His Majesty doesn’t want to see me,” Lu Guangbai said.

The two men shared a silence. Both knew full well the reason for the emperor’s reluctance. But Lu Guangbai didn’t appear bitter. He turned to Xiao Chiye. “Did His Majesty reward you?”

“He’s keeping me on a leash,” Xiao Chiye replied, taking up the reins.

Lu Guangbai reached over to pat Xiao Chiye’s shoulder. “Not you; that leash is on your father and brother.”

They rode a while. Amid the sound of hooves, Xiao Chiye said, “When His Majesty mentioned my sister-in-law, I almost broke out in a cold sweat.”

Lu Guangbai and Xiao Jiming burst out laughing. Lu Guangbai asked, “Are your father and Yizhi well?”

Xiao Jiming nodded. Armorless and with a coat draped over his court attire, he didn’t cut as young and valiant a figure as Xiao Chiye, yet his presence commanded attention. “They are both well,” he answered. “My father is still concerned about the old general’s leg injury, so he specially instructed me to bring you the medicinal plaster he uses. Yizhi is well, too. She’s missed you all very much since being with child and wrote many letters that I’ve brought along. You can read them when you come over to my manor later.”

“All we have back home are unrefined men,” Lu Guangbai said uneasily, pulling on the reins. “There’s not even a female relative we could send to keep her company. The Libei winters are freezing. I got the news while leading the troops out of Bianjun Commandery, and I’ve been worrying the whole way.”

“Yeah.” Xiao Chiye turned to them. “When my brother was trapped in Cizhou and the situation was dire, he told me not to write home in case it made my sister-in-law anxious. The conflict broke out so abruptly; they didn’t find out about her condition until after he’d left.”

Xiao Jiming, ever a man of restraint, merely said, “Our father stayed behind to guard the home front and watch over Yizhi. Don’t worry. Once I return home after New Year’s, I’m not going anywhere.”

Lu Guangbai sighed. “Libei has been caught in the heart of the storm these recent years. You have to think twice every time you dispatch troops. This time, we have only Shen Wei to blame for turning tail without a fight and leaving that rotten mess. When my troops rode past the Chashi Sinkhole, the blood on the ground lapped at the horses’ hooves. He knew he couldn’t escape capital punishment, so he burned himself to death. Still, there’s something off about the whole business. Jiming, you captured his son and brought him to the capital. Did you notice anything amiss?”

“Shen Wei always attached great importance to the distinction between lawful and common birth,” Xiao Jiming said, drawing his overcoat shut against the wind. “The boy was his eighth common son born to a mother whose family had no connections; he was abandoned to be raised in Duanzhou. It’s obvious that he had no access to inside information. Yet there must be a reason why His Majesty places such importance on the boy.”

“Public wrath is hard to quell,” Xiao Chiye said, putting on his helmet. “His Majesty personally handed command of the Zhongbo garrisons to Shen Wei. After this debacle, someone’s head needs to roll as proof of his impartiality.”

However, the one with real executive power in the Zhou empire was not the emperor but the empress dowager, who held her own court behind painted screens. With the situation at a stalemate, the eyes of the nation were on Shen Zechuan. If he pled guilty and died swiftly, all would be well; if not, he was doomed to become a thorn in the emperor’s side.

The Xiao Clan of Libei was at the peak of their prestige. Even the Qi Clan, who led the Qidong territories, had to give way to them, and Lu Guangbai—the leader of Qidong’s Bianjun Commandery—was Xiao Jiming’s brother-in-law. Xiao Jiming, lauded as the “Iron Horse on River Ice,” one of the Four Great Generals, could mobilize the Libei Armored Cavalry at any time and count on his wife’s family to deploy the Bianjun Garrison Troops. How could the emperor in Qudu not be wary of him?

“The empress dowager insists on preserving his life.” Lu Guangbai pursed his thin lips. “She’s gunning to raise a jackal who can rightfully reclaim Zhongbo, yet is submissive enough to eat from her hand. When the time comes, he could help her consolidate power from within while keeping Libei in check from without—a dangerous liability. Jiming, this boy must not live!”

As they rode into the gale, snow sliced across their cheeks like knives. They lapsed into silence.

Zhao Hui, who’d been quiet behind them, urged his horse forward. “Gongzi kicked him right in the chest, almost as hard as he could. I saw how shallow his breathing was, and how his wounds bled when he fell.” Zhao Hui mulled it over. “Yet he did not die.”

“After days of the trial and a flogging, his life was already hanging by a thread,” said Xiao Chiye, riding crop in hand. “My kick was meant to kill. If he doesn’t die tonight, I’ll acknowledge his tenacity, at least.”

But Zhao Hui frowned. “He was frail to begin with and suffered a cold on the journey here. By all rights, he should be dead. Yet he’s still hanging on. There’s something fishy about it. Master—”

Xiao Jiming swept them a sidelong glance, and both shut their mouths. Bracing himself against the fierce wind, he gazed out at the road ahead. After a moment’s silence, he said, “Dead or alive, only fate will tell.”

The wind howled, sending the metal windchimes under the eaves along the street rattling. The sound seemed to chase away the specter of doom that had closed in around them. Sitting steady atop his horse, Xiao Jiming calmly spurred his mount onward. Zhao Hui leaned forward and hurried to catch up.

Beneath his helmet, Xiao Chiye’s expression was inscrutable. Lu Guangbai punched him on the shoulder. “Gotta hand it to your brother.”

Xiao Chiye gave him the ghost of a smile. “Fate, huh?”