The attendant immediately began observing Wei Yan’s expression with utmost caution.

He said in a low voice, “Bring it here.”

Only then did the attendant go to the door of the study and carefully carry the brocade box to the desk.

Wei Yan’s pair of old yet still sharp phoenix eyes examined the brocade box before him. The box was clearly aged; the layer of brocade glued onto its surface had already yellowed.

He tapped open the keyhole and lifted the lid. Upon seeing the contents inside, his gaze instantly darkened with gloom.

The attendant, noticing his change in expression, hurriedly took a glance at what lay inside and was instantly struck with terror. “Has… Has He Jingyuan seen this letter?”

Inside the brocade box were a letter and a black iron token.

Wei Yan raised his hand to pick up the letter. The envelope was old, but the seal remained intact, and there was no signature or mark upon it. It looked as though someone long ago had placed the contents into a new envelope.

He said in a deep voice, “He didn’t dare open it.”

He tore open the envelope, and inside was indeed another letter—one that had been opened before. Both the letter paper and the outer cover were yellowed, and there were faint traces of blood—dried and oxidized to a pale yellow.

On the cover were written a few bold, powerful characters: “To Uncle Meng Shuyuan, personally.”

Wei Yan had for many years wielded the emperor’s authority to command the vassal lords; though he was reviled in court, his calligraphy was nonetheless ranked among the most renowned of the age.

Anyone who had seen his brushwork would instantly recognize that the words on the envelope were written by his own hand.

When he saw the contents within, the cold sternness in Wei Yan’s expression finally eased slightly—yet his eyes remained sharp as a hawk’s. “I sent shadow guards of the Xuan Division to retrieve this. Why, then, did it end up in He Jingyuan’s hands?”

The attendant lowered his head, cold sweat streaming down. “This old servant will order an investigation at once.”

Wei Yan raised his hand slightly, signaling it was unnecessary. He noticed that along with the brocade box, a memorial from Jizhou had been delivered. After opening and reading it, he tossed the document onto the desk and said, “He’s begging me to spare the two daughters of that traitor to his lord.”

Having served Wei Yan for many years, the attendant was naturally adept at reading hearts. He glanced at the memorial, which reported that bandits had attacked Qingping County, murdering many good families, and that the bandits had now been executed—thus understanding what Wei Yan meant.

He Jingyuan had helped retrieve the item Wei Yan sought, hoping in exchange that Wei Yan would stay his hand and spare those two women.

The attendant’s eyes flickered. “General He likely acted out of comradeship from the old days. You once tested his loyalty by ordering him to kill those two, and he did as commanded. It seems General He has always been loyal to you—merely showing the softness of a woman’s heart this time.”

Wei Yan sneered coldly. “Tell me—did he obtain this item long ago, or was it truly as he claimed in the memorial, that he mistook the situation for a bandit crisis in Qingping County, deployed troops to suppress the ‘bandits,’ and only then discovered the shadow guard of the Xuan Division—and thus learned that I was seeking this thing?”

The attendant considered carefully. “After you ordered him to kill those two, did you not already send men to watch over him? From the looks of it, General He was unaware of this item. It should be as he said.”

Wei Yan’s voice turned icy. “Better to kill a thousand by mistake than let one slip away. Though he did not open the letter, the fact that he would use it to plead for the daughters of that traitorous man means he has already guessed what this object truly is.”

The attendant spoke cautiously. “Do you mean… to deal with him as you did with the Marquis?”

He made a throat-slitting gesture.

Wei Yan’s gaze lingered on the memorial lying on the desk. He was silent for a long while before finally shaking his head. “The Battle of Jinzhou has been over sixteen years. Yet a few months ago, the deaths of the Crown Prince of Chengde and Xie Linshan suddenly began circulating again among the common folk. Zheng’er has gone to investigate the war records of that battle—no doubt guided there by someone with intent. The one behind all this has yet to show himself, yet he has already forced this old man to lose the finest blade in his hand.”

At this, his tone suddenly sharpened. “Now the situation in Chongzhou is locked in stalemate—perhaps that hidden hand has tampered there as well. If I were to break He Jingyuan too, then the entire southwest would fall into another’s grasp. That traitor who once betrayed his lord knew well what he was doing—he never told his two daughters anything of the past. Two ignorant little girls pose no threat. Let them keep their lives for now.”

The attendant praised softly, “The Chancellor is wise.”

Yet in his heart, he understood. Wei Yan spared He Jingyuan’s life only because, even after learning the truth of the Battle of Jinzhou, He Jingyuan could still be of use to him. The man who betrayed Wei Yan had left behind only two daughters—what could women do by way of vengeance? There was no danger there.

But Xie Zheng was different. The hatred of a slain father could not be reconciled under the same sky.

Thus, Wei Yan had struck first—laying a snare within the Chongzhou campaign, where Great Yin’s young war god, ennobled for his military merit before the age of twenty, was doomed to fall.

Wei Yan ignored the attendant’s flattery. At last, he cast one final glance at the letter—its paper yellowed with sixteen years of age—and tossed it into the charcoal brazier beside the desk.

The silver-bone charcoal burned bright red, scorching a hole into the letter at once. As the dark-brown gap widened, the entire page was slowly consumed by flame. The wars and bloodshed of sixteen years past seemed to dissolve into smoke and ash within that fire, leaving behind a truth that no one would ever know again.

Reflected in the glow, Wei Yan’s eyes were grim. “For now, let the Chongzhou front remain under He Jingyuan’s command. The one so intent on dragging the Battle of Jinzhou back into the light will not stop easily. Send the shadow guards of the Earth Division to watch closely. At the slightest sign of movement, I want that rat who stirs the storm from the dark brought before me!”

The attendant asked, “Could it be the faction of Grand Preceptor Li?”

Wei Yan shook his head. His aged face held the calm of a mountain at the edge of an abyss. “If that old fox had truly caught scent of what happened at Jinzhou back then, he would not have waited sixteen years to resurrect the matter.”

He spoke slowly. “When the Crown Prince of Chengde fell in battle, the Eastern Palace burned. The Crown Princess and the imperial grandson perished in the flames. Half the Crown Princess’s face was still recognizable, but the imperial grandson was burned to a dry husk. Let us only hope that the one who died back then… truly was the imperial grandson.”

The attendant caught the implication in his words. Cold sweat broke over him. “The one who died beside the Crown Princess must have been the imperial grandson—who else within the Eastern Palace could that young boy have been?”

Wei Yan merely said, “Let us hope so.”

· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Jizhou.

It was New Year’s Eve. Yet because the imperial army had suffered defeat in Chongzhou, the entire Jizhou prefecture—bordering that front—could not enjoy a peaceful holiday. Every official of seventh rank and above had been summoned to the prefectural yamen to discuss countermeasures.

A courier letter was delivered to the desk of He Jingyuan. After reading it, he sighed. “So, the Chancellor’s eldest son finds the fires of Chongzhou still not hot enough, does he?”

Standing below, Zheng Wenchang asked, “My lord, what do you mean by that?”

He Jingyuan handed over the document sealed with the command seal of the Northwestern Military Governor. As the officials within the study passed it from hand to hand, murmurs and debate broke out among them.

Zheng Wenchang said angrily, “Across the entire Great Yin Empire—one capital and seventeen prefectures—the northwest holds four. Chongzhou has already rebelled, leaving only Huizhou, Jizhou, and Taizhou. Huizhou is a military garrison. To weaken the military governors’ power, the court has long forbidden any garrison to store grain or cultivate land. Now, of all the northwest, only Jizhou and Taizhou remain able to provide provisions—yet Wei Xuan demands that each of the two prefectures raise one hundred thousand shi of grain within three days. Is this not forcing the impossible?”

Another official said, “I heard Taizhou couldn’t meet the quota. Just yesterday, the Military Governor sent troops to seize the grain by force. Even the seeds farmers kept for spring sowing were taken! Never mind next year’s planting—if the people survive this harsh winter without starving, it’ll be a miracle!”

“The soldiers under Wei Xuan treat the people as less than human. I heard they even beat to death several farmers who refused to hand over their grain. The news hasn’t spread yet, but once it does, the Wei clan’s infamy will grow still longer!”

He Jingyuan listened to the prefectural officials arguing below, saying nothing. Only when their voices grew louder and more heated did he ask, “Why is it that no grain can be raised from the northwest this year?”

The grain and fodder for the one hundred thousand troops stationed in Huizhou had always been allocated by the court. But because the war in Chongzhou had broken out, cutting off the supply lines, the provisions had yet to arrive.