Chapter 57: Reunion with an Old Friend, Reminiscing the Past

Traveling southwest along the Yongji Canal from Qinghe County, one would reach Linqing, and past Linqing lay Wuyang Commandery. The Yongji Canal cut across the northern territories of Wuyang Commandery, and much like Qinghe, the commandery seat—Wuyang City—was established beside the canal in the northern part of Wuyang.

When Fu Zihou journeyed through Wuyang Commandery with Cao Yong, Xiong Ruixiang, and others, he chose not to enter the city. The fathers of Li Anjing and Li Anren—Li Family's fourth son, Li Shaozhi—and Li Cha's father, Li Liyan, both resided in Wuyang City. With Zhang Jinchen bound inside the wooden cart, entering the city would have been too troublesome for Fu Zihou.

Moreover, should they learn of his intention to meet the Xie family, they would surely attempt to prevent it. Li Shaozhi, the Gongcao of Wuyang Commandery—now termed Sigung Shuzuo though, unlike the new title imposed by Yang Guang, people still used the centuries-old name Gongcao—held the rank of lower seventh grade. Though his power was less than it had been in Han times, his role was akin to overseeing assessments and records; nonetheless, within Wuyang Commandery, he wielded considerable influence and connections.

The Xie family was certainly aware of this, which explained why Fu Zihou had chosen to arrange the meeting in Liyang.

Leaving Wuyang City, the group pressed forward day after day. On the third day, Fu Zihou and his companions finally arrived at Liyang City, their agreed meeting place.

He recalled, when journeying with his family to Tao County, that the riverboats only operated between specific cities, necessitating changes and waits. Thus, Fu Zihou and his family had once spent a night in Liyang City.

But on his return to Liyang, Fu Zihou was unprepared for the sight: corpses of common folk scattered along the riverbank, some lying atop the ice, some showing only a hand, some curled beneath frozen sheets. Most had fainted from hunger, then perished from the cold. Though one of the empire’s largest granaries stood not far from Liyang, the number of starved dead around the city surpassed anywhere else—a bitter irony.

Outside Liyang City, as Fu Zihou led Cao Yong, Xiong Xiangrui, and the others, guiding the horse-drawn cart, he spotted a familiar figure chatting with several gate guards inside the city gates, seemingly hiding from the cold wind.

“Zihou!”

Zhao Han, in conversation with the guards, caught sight of Fu Zihou and broke into a broad smile, quickly approaching.

“Han, what brings you here?” Fu Zihou greeted him with a salute, surprised at the encounter.

Zhao Han returned the gesture, and sensing Fu Zihou’s confusion, explained, “The Xie family already knows about the marriage alliance between the Fu and Li families. In the past, the Fu family traveled to Tao County seeking refuge with the Li family! So when you arranged to meet Uncle Du here, he asked me to come as well!” Zhao Han smiled, glancing at Fu Zihou.

If not for Fu Zihou, Zhao Han would not have learned days ago of the grievances between the Xie and Li families. Now, observing Fu Zihou, Zhao Han surmised he must be here for that very reason.

Yet Zhao Han found it curious—how did Zihou’s journey to Tao County lead him to cross paths with the Cui family of Qinghe? He recalled Uncle Du mentioning that someone from the Cui family had helped relay a message for Zihou, which had startled Zhao Han.

Looking at Fu Zihou, Zhao Han couldn’t help but reflect: back in the village, when everyone mocked Fu Zihou, it was only his own father who saw the boy’s true character.

“Where are they?” Fu Zihou asked, relieved to see Zhao Han, recognizing that the Xie family’s actions aimed to ease relations, always employing a mediator.

Fu Zihou knew his own standing; it wasn’t for his sake, but because the message-bearer was a servant of the Cui family.

But now, Fu Zihou wondered why the Xie family had not appeared.

“It’s because Zhang Jinchen, the rebel, is leading his men to attack Qinghe County! You must have heard of this coming from Tao County. As it stands, all the Xie family are inside the city, discussing with the governor of Ji Commandery and the granary commander whether to send troops to aid Qinghe County…” Zhao Han explained.

He told Fu Zihou that Yang Shanhui, presently in Qinghe County, was of high standing within the Hongnong Yang family, and served as the commandery assistant. One step higher, and he’d be a regional governor; the Yangs could not stand by idly.

And with the Xie family of Chen Commandery recently allied by marriage to the Yangs of Hongnong, they were doing everything in their power to rescue Qinghe.

Inside Liyang City, not only had Xie Zhangyuan and his son Xie Shudu arrived, but so had Xie Shuyuan—who had married into the Yang family—and his father Xie Zhangyu. All accompanied the Yang clan, seeking ways to persuade Liyang to dispatch reinforcements.

“Still, even with both families involved, the effect is negligible! Liyang Granary is a strategic point—the commander dare not leave his post, fearing refugees would seize the grain; and the Ji governor likewise cannot mobilize troops on his own, only petitioning Luoyang!” Zhao Han said, casting a curious glance at Fu Zihou.

“By the way, Zihou, which route did you take here from Tao County?” Zhao Han inquired.

“A detour?” Fu Zihou smiled. “I came from Qinghe!”

“Qinghe? Isn’t that occupied by rebels?” Zhao Han frowned, puzzled. How could Zihou have come from Qinghe, with Zhang Jinchen’s forces rampant?

“The rebels have scattered and fled! News will reach Liyang soon enough,” Fu Zihou replied.

Fu Zihou explained, then asked Zhao Han about entering the city, given that a man was hidden among the firewood in the cart.

“They’ve fled? Truly?” Zhao Han was astonished. If Qinghe’s rebels had indeed escaped, the Xie and Yang families need not be so anxious, repeatedly petitioning the local officials for reinforcements.

Considering Fu Zihou’s question, Zhao Han turned to the gate guards. “Rest assured! The Xie family has spoken to them, and I’ve cultivated good relations these past days. It’s no issue at all—even carrying someone in openly would be allowed.”

“Excellent.” Fu Zihou nodded, directing Cao Yong, Xiong Ruixiang, and the others to lead the cart inside.

Though Zhao Han wondered at Fu Zihou’s secrecy, as the cart approached, he detected a faint scent of blood. He asked no questions.

At the gate, Zhao Han produced some coins and slipped them to the guards. The captain had already briefed his men that Fu Zihou’s party was to be admitted. Seeing Zhao Han also offer money, they gladly allowed passage.

Within Liyang, Fu Zihou followed Zhao Han to the Zhang family residence. Zhao Han explained that this Zhang family was no ordinary clan—they claimed descent from Zhang Liang, a founding hero of the Han dynasty, though after so many generations, the lineage was hard to verify, and few had risen to high office. Yet among the local gentry and commoners, this reputation was widely known.

After announcing their arrival to the servants, Fu Zihou and Zhao Han chatted. Hearing about the events at the Xie family banquet, Fu Zihou was amused.

“So Han, you leaked my name? Does that mean you and Miss Wei…?” Fu Zihou teased, feigning disappointment. He’d given Zhao Han a chance to shine before his beloved, yet Zhao Han hadn’t seized it.

But upon reflection, Fu Zihou respected Zhao Han’s integrity.

“Zihou saw through it; how could I deceive? I’d rather not have a guilty conscience for life!” Zhao Han shook his head. He’d never regretted revealing Fu Zihou’s story.

As for Miss Wei… Zhao Han’s mind conjured her image, his expression somewhat forlorn.

“How is your teacher?” Fu Zihou changed the subject, asking after his own instructor. He still felt some sorrow at their parting, uncertain whether his teacher was well in the village.

“All is well! With the Zhao family there, you need not worry. If you have any message to send, tell me!” Zhao Han brightened, reassuring Fu Zihou, then furrowed his brow, remembering something.

“By the way, Zihou, about the three bodies your family buried—what was that about?” Zhao Han whispered. His father had instructed him: if he met other members of the Fu family, say nothing; but if he met Zihou, ask him privately.

“Bodies?” Fu Zihou was startled, looking at Zhao Han in confusion. Had the burial been discovered?

It shouldn’t have been found so soon—after the Fu family left, fresh soil marks would fade with time, concealing the evidence. Yet Zhao Han mentioned the three corpses directly.

“The day you left, someone heard your aunt Zhang…” Zhao Han recounted the village events from two months prior, assuring Fu Zihou that the Zhao family had handled the matter, and no one would pursue it.

“So the villagers overheard Aunt Zhang?” Fu Zihou learned the details, both annoyed and amused, longing to return to Tao County and inform his aunt.

Looking at Zhao Han, Fu Zihou knew that if Zhao Han had ill intent, he could have had him arrested at the gate. But Zhao Han had instead expressed goodwill, showing that the Zhao family was offering friendship.

Fu Zihou then told Zhao Han the truth, explaining what had happened and the identities of those involved.

“Zihou, my father guessed from the manner of death that you must have done it,” Zhao Han said, unsurprised, relieved that Fu Zihou had confided in him.

“Zihou, I’m older than you, and you’ve already killed bandits yourself. I wonder if, should I ever face such a moment, I could do the same,” Zhao Han admitted, his eyes admiring Fu Zihou. Fu Zihou had faced bloodshed, while Zhao Han, merely imagining killing, felt tense.

Sometimes Zhao Han doubted his own courage.

“I had no choice; it took me a long time to recover! If you worry, here’s my advice: when you must kill a bandit, let him draw his sword first,” Fu Zihou said with a wry smile, half-joking, half-serious.

Recalling that night, Fu Zihou found it harder than facing battle. Perhaps, because those men never drew their swords, the feeling was different.

On the battlefield, all enemies wield weapons; confronting imminent danger, one’s body, forced by death, does not tense or freeze but instead unlocks hidden potential. Surviving the battlefield, the aftermath of killing is not so burdensome.

Any man with a sword can kill on the field, but not every man with a knife can be an executioner.

Two scenarios, two experiences—worlds apart.

Fu Zihou believed that, on the battlefield, Zhao Han would not hesitate to draw his sword; but for a first killing, in circumstances like his own, shadows would linger.

Outside the Zhang residence, as Fu Zihou and Zhao Han conversed, a man emerged—Xie Shudu, whom Fu Zihou had met once before.

“Zihou! It’s been a long time!” Xie Shudu greeted Fu Zihou warmly.

“Greetings, Brother Du!” Fu Zihou replied.

“Zihou, come in, please! Let’s sit and talk inside,” Xie Shudu beckoned, seeing Fu Zihou’s weary appearance after a long journey.

“Thank you.” Fu Zihou nodded, signaling Cao Yong and Xiong Ruixiang to bring their charge inside, then approached Xia Jia, taking a gourd and bamboo flask from the horse she led.

Zhao Han watched as Cao Yong and Xiong Ruixiang tossed aside the firewood from the cart, revealing a middle-aged man, his face wrapped in cloth, gravely wounded.

Who was he?

Both Zhao Han and Xie Shudu were puzzled by the man’s presence. Had something happened along the way? Was Fu Zihou bringing him here for treatment?

Though curious, neither Zhao Han nor Xie Shudu pressed for answers, instead ushering Fu Zihou inside; the elder was waiting.

Before Fu Zihou could enter, Zhao Han remembered he’d come from Qinghe County, and quickly informed Xie Shudu.

“Brother Du, Zihou just said he’s come from Qinghe; the rebels have scattered and fled!”

“What? The rebels have scattered and fled?” Xie Shudu was stunned, looking at Zhao Han in disbelief, then quickly turned to Fu Zihou by the horse.

“Is this absolutely true?” Xie Shudu asked anxiously.

In recent days, they’d feared Qinghe’s fall—Zhang Jinchen, the rebel, was well-known for his brutality, slaughtering civilians, and bearing deep hatred for Yang Shanhui.

At present, the armies of Hebei were in the north, Wuyang’s troops were fighting the rebel Zhen Baoche in Qibei, and only Ji Commandery had forces concentrated here.

Ji’s troops guarded Liyang Granary, unable to aid Qinghe; where could reinforcements come from, to drive Zhang Jinchen’s men to flight?

“Since Zihou said he’s come from Qinghe, I believe him!” Zhao Han replied. Just as in Wanqu, Zhao Han didn’t know how Zhang Jinchen’s rebels had scattered, but he trusted Fu Zihou.

“When we go inside, please entertain Zihou first, Han; I must inform my father of this news. Father, Uncle, and the Yang family are deeply concerned for Qinghe—if this is true, it’s excellent news!” Xie Shudu said, and Zhao Han nodded. Whatever the case, their elders needed to hear the news first.