Nightwatcher-Chapter 448: Kindred

# 448. Kindred

Wei Yuan’s words caused every gaze to turn in unison towards Xu Qi’an.

Those on the city walls — Lin’an, Huaiqing, the civil and military officials. Those below — the departing troops, the common folk lining the streets.

Xu Qi’an paused his drumming, stood in silence for a moment, then laughed aloud without turning his head. “Duke Wei, after ‘*Throughout the land is there anyone who knows not you?*,’ no poem of parting has ever surpassed it.”

He paused briefly before raising his voice again, “Why not let this humble servant compose a lyric instead?”

Before the eyes of thousands, the two men spoke boldly.

Wei Yuan gave a slight nod of consideration, his smile undimmed. “Very well!”

At once, countless eyes fell once more on Xu Qi’an. The scholars below, and the civil officials atop the walls, all stirred with sudden excitement.

How could such a moment be without poetry? And with the foremost poet of the Great Feng present, the literary world was sure to gain another timeless piece.

That thought alone made the scholars flush with anticipation.

Xu Qi’an did not cease drumming, instead, he struck harder still. The thunderous beat rolled across the city.

There was indeed a lyric in his heart that he wished to offer Wei Yuan.

After returning from Chuzhou, he had shared a heart-to-heart with Wei Yuan, learning of his plan to manoeuvre against the Zhenbei King and reclaim command of the military.

It was only then that Xu Qi’an realised that this man in the azure robe, who had wrestled against myriad factions at court, had always yearned to hold the reins of the army once more, to realise his ambitions, yet never succeeded.

After the Battle of Shanhai Pass, Wei Yuan had been stripped of his military authority and kept tethered to the court for twenty long years.

*Duke Wei... after twenty years, have you dreamt of the battlefield once more, of commanding armies and shaping the realm?*

Xu Qi’an drew a deep breath. With the drumming as accompaniment, he gathered his breath into his *dantian* and recited in a powerful voice:

*“Drunk I light a lamp to see my sword;*

*In dreams horns sound from tent to tent.*

*Under banners bright beef grilled,*

*Eaten by our warriors brave,*

*Fifty instruments played martial airs,*

*‘Twas an autumn field manoeuvre.”*

Wei Yuan was struck dumb, staring in astonishment at the young man atop the wall.

What a poem!

The civil officials’ eyes lit up at once. These lines spoke of viewing one’s blade by lamplight in drunken dreams, as though reliving a life in the army.

Given the present moment, it was as if they had returned to two decades past, when, on the battlefield under the autumn sun, that azure-robed figure led his army to war.

This lyric, this was written for Wei Yuan.

_Boom, boom, boom! Boom, boom, boom!_

Xu Qi’an pounded the drum furiously, and his voice soared again:

“*On gallant steed, at lightning speed,*

*We’d shoot with twanging bows.*

*Settle all earthly problems for our liege,*

*And earn a name honoured in life or death!*”

*You gave your all for the court, laboured tirelessly for the royal family, defended the nation with all your might, and what did you receive?*

*The court buried your achievements, inflated the glory of the Zhenbei King, and bit by bit shifted your rightful honours onto that beast who slaughtered a city for selfish ends.*

*The civil officials and the literary world condemned you, branded you a eunuch-clique leader, as though they had forgotten who had won the battle at Shanhai Pass, who had bought the Great Feng twenty years of peace.*

*And what did you get?*

He stopped. The drum fell silent.

Xu Qi’an’s voice rang clear, but his tone was filled with a deep sorrow. He said, word by word:

“*Alas, white hair grows.*”[^1]

On the city wall, the atmosphere froze. Wang Zhenwen and the others stared blankly at Xu Qi’an, slowly savouring the final line.

A nameless melancholy grew within their chests.

It was always poetry that moved scholars most deeply.

Truth be told, these civil officials all knew what kind of man Wei Yuan was. Even if they had once fought tooth and nail against him, in their hearts they respected his character.

It was just a matter of differing positions.

“Alas, white hair grows… Alas, white hair grows…” At that moment, even those officials who had spent half a lifetime contending with Wei Yuan found their chests heavy with emotion.

Lin’an bit her lip, brows furrowed. She had felt nothing at first, but when the final line was spoken, a wave of sorrow surged through her like a crashing tide.

Huaiqing looked steadily at him, her eyes were misted.

“Motherfucker, this bloody verse… making my nose sting,” muttered Jiang Lüzhong, rubbing his face.

Among the departing ranks, veterans of the Battle of Shanhai Pass now had tears in their eyes.

“Ha… hahahaha…”

Wei Yuan, however, laughed, loud, unrestrained laughter, so hard it brought tears to the corners of his eyes.

*Xu Qi’an, do you know why I never took you as my adopted son?*

*Because in my heart, you are my kindred.*

…

Qingyun Mountain, Cloud Deer Academy.

Zhao Shou stood atop the peak, his Confucian robes and greying hair billowing in the wind. His gaze seemed to pierce the distance and settle on the departing army.

“The Academy rose with the Great Feng, and now the Confucian school wanes as the Great Feng declines.”

His eyes were calm, his tone steady, bearing no joy or sorrow.

He summoned his righteous energy and proclaimed aloud: “Wei Yuan, return victorious!”

As his voice fell, the power of the Confucian laws follow commandments vanished into the void.

In the next instant, the backlash of that magic struck him. The righteous energy surrounding Zhao Shou shattered with a roar, and a crack split his brow, spreading rapidly like a shattered eggshell.

From within the Hall of the lesser sage, a beam of pure light shot forth, striking him directly and slowly healing his fissured form.

“Grand statements must not be made lightly, especially when they concern those beyond ranks. Wei Yuan, oh Wei Yuan… this is all I can do for you. Two thousand years ago, we had the Sage, but now, among all humanity, only you can bear this banner.”

Having said this, Zhao Shou bowed deeply to the Hall of the lesser sage. “Many thanks for your aid, lesser sage.”

Since the stele of Sage Chen had split, the power of the Hall had returned.

…

There were seventy thousand troops assembled in the camp. Ten thousand were Imperial Guards, while the remaining sixty thousand were drawn from the capital and various provinces.

Further reinforcements remained in the three northeastern provinces, Xiangzhou, Yuzhou, and Jingzhou.

The seventy thousand troops in the capital would split into four columns, heading towards the northeast. Of these, twenty thousand would travel by water to Chuzhou in the northern frontier.

Xu Erlang was among those twenty thousand.

When it came to military marches, the more men there were, the more complex things became. Large-scale deployments were typically carried out in separate divisions, converging at a designated point.

What does seventy thousand troops look like?

A sea of people, stretching as far as the eye could see, without end.

The army set off along the official road. Wei Yuan turned back to gaze at the capital one last time, and for some reason, that child’s verse came back to him.

Settle all earthly problems for our liege,

And earn a name honoured in life or death,

Alas, white hair grows…

Wei Yuan gave a faint smile and murmured to himself:

“Don’t grieve for me. My loyalty is to the nation, to the people. You should understand that.”

The army marched slowly. Seventy thousand men, silent as the grave. Only the rumble of wheels, the neighing of horses, and the clinking of armour could be heard.

Amid that interweaving soundscape, the soldiers suddenly heard a voice singing from the sky.

“Smoke rises, my gaze turns northwards,

Dragons stir, horses cry, swords flash like frost…

My heart flows vast like the Yellow River,

In twenty years of battle, who could challenge me?…”

Some turned around in confusion. Others were lost in the song.

“Wrath surging, blade pointed forwards,

How many loyal souls now lie buried afar…

For my nation who fears a hundred deaths,

Only blood and tears left, what words can I speak…”

“Horses gallop south, men look north,

North where dust flies high above green grass,

Let me guard these lands and reclaim our realm,

And all pay respect to our mighty central plains!”[^2]

On a distant hill stood a lone rider, bellowing his song like a madman.

*In twenty years of war, who could match you?*

*You must return victorious.*

*Duke Wei!*

…

Sitianjian, Bagua Platform.

The Jianzheng, robed in snow-white, was not seated at his usual desk this time, but standing on the edge of the platform, expressionless as he gazed into the distance, towards the army setting out from the capital.

“The curtain has lifted,” he murmured.

“The curtain has lifted?”

Behind him came a low voice, slowly saying, “If that’s the case, how could the main character like me be left out, right, teacher?”

The Jianzheng ignored him and sighed. “In all the Great Feng, the only one capable of leading troops to the city of Mount Jing is Wei Yuan. None but him.”

Yang Qianhuan opened his mouth but found himself unable to argue.

The Jianzheng withdrew his gaze. “Your heart is unsettled. How do you expect to ascend?”

Yang Qianhuan was silent for a while, then said, “Teacher, I haven’t left the Sitianjian in days. People outside may no longer remember my name, may not even know there’s a Yang Qianhuan in the Sitianjian. I’m not content.”

*What name do you think you had?*

The Jianzheng nearly pinched the bridge of his nose. “Xu Qi’an did not go out with the expedition.”

Yang Qianhuan blinked. “What’s that got to do with me?”

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The Jianzheng continued speaking, as though to himself. “But he stood atop the city wall, beat the war drums, and composed a poem. The eyes of the crowd were all on him.”

*He beat the drums and composed a poem… with everyone watching…* Yang Qianhuan trembled with envy.

After a long pause, he gritted his teeth and said, “Teacher, I want to advance to Rank Three!”

A smile appeared on the Jianzheng’s face. At that moment, Chu Caiwei came running up, shouting, “Teacher, teacher! Senior Brother Song Qing and the others are causing trouble!”

“Hmm?”

“Senior Brother Song said that creativity needs passion. They’re refusing to continue repetitive, dull work. They won’t refine standardised artefacts anymore.”

The Jianzheng finally did pinch the bridge of his nose, his tone calm. “Tell them Yang Qianhuan defied me and has been imprisoned on the third underground level, where he shall be punished with lightning and fire.”

Chu Caiwei nodded cheerfully. “Alrighty. That’ll get Senior Brother Song and the others to behave. Teacher, you’re so clever, to come up with such a brilliant strategy.”

*This has nothing to do with cleverness…* Yang Qianhuan silently grumbled.

The Jianzheng sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose once more.

Chu Caiwei didn’t notice Yang Qianhuan’s jabs at her intelligence, nor did she care about the Jianzheng’s repeated sighing. She tiptoed to the Jianzheng’s side, glanced at his desk, saw only wine and no food, and looked away in disappointment. Then she leaned in, all mysterious.

“Teacher, may I ask you a question…?”

The Jianzheng felt a rare moment of comfort.

“I found some strange runes in a lone manuscript. Could you take a look for me?”

As she spoke, she pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper from her robes.

…

*Third day since Erlang left. I miss him. I miss him. I miss him…*

So wrote Xu Qi’an in his diary.

The past two days had been taken up by household affairs and cultivation. It wasn’t until today, on a clear golden day, that he found the time to look through the late emperor’s imperial diary. He couldn’t make sense of them, and that was when he began to miss Erlang.

Before leaving with the army, Xu Erlang had copied out the entirety of the records from memory. Naturally, he’d used cursive script.

It was too long to write neatly, and he hadn’t the time before departure, so cursive saved effort.

The problem was, this stuff followed a set style, and anyone not well-read couldn’t make sense of it.[^3]

As for people in the house who had some education, aside from Erlang, there was only Lingyue. But her studies had only scratched the surface, and she hadn’t learned cursive, so she couldn’t read it either.

*The imperial diary is extremely important, I can’t just show it to anyone. I need someone I trust.*

He turned over the options in his mind, and realised he knew pitifully few scholars. In the Heaven and Earth Society, there was only Chu Yuanzhen, and he’d gone off with the army.

At home, only Erlang was a proper scholar. He couldn’t count on Second Uncle or Auntie for a translation.

In the Nightwatchers, Brother Chun, Tingfeng and Guangxiao were all trustworthy, but none of them had much more education than he did.

The scholars of Cloud Deer Academy would do, but the round trip would take two hours. Too long. *Hm… perhaps I could ask Li Miaozhen to carry me up into the sky and fly me over…*

*Huaiqing is too clever. If I pulled out the late emperor’s imperial diary and asked her to translate, she’d start asking a hundred questions.*

*Ah, Lin’an might work.*

*That girl might be a little daft, but one couldn’t underestimate her scholarly training. She is a royal princess, after all, she’d at least have mastered the basics, like calligraphy.*

Xu Qi’an thought it over and eventually settled on Lin’an.

He bundled up the thick stack of papers, tucked them into his robes, and rode his little mare to the Nightwatchers Constabulary.

Now that Erlang had left with the army, he couldn’t use his identity or token as a presented scholar to move freely through the palace. But that was no problem, his network was wide.

Silver Gongs of the Nightwatchers could freely enter and exit the Imperial City. Patrols there were always part of their duties.

Xu Qi’an borrowed Brother Chun’s badge, put on his old Nightwatcher uniform, disguised himself as Li Yuchun, and rode his steed into the palace without a hitch.

…

Lin’an Manor.

Xu Qi’an mimicked Brother Chun’s stern manner, stopped at the gate and said to the guards, “This official is Li Yuchun, Xu Qi’an’s former superior and close personal friend. I wish to see Princess Lin’an on urgent business.”

He said it this way to ensure he’d be allowed to see her, after all, not just any Silver Gong could get an audience with a princess.

But the name “Xu Qi’an,” paired with the Silver Gong identity, was enough to earn a little deference. The guards didn’t question him, just said, “Please wait,” before rushing off to report.

As expected, once she heard he was Xu Qi’an’s close friend, Lin’an summoned him at once, receiving him in the parlour.

With her lovely, enchanting eyes like peach blossoms, full of inner charm and reminiscent of the coquettish little queen of the nightlife, Biaobiao was seated at the head of the room, attempting to affect a dignity that didn’t suit her temperament.

“Silver Gong Li, what brings you to us?” she said in an aloof tone.

“Lin’an, it’s me. This isn’t the right place to talk. Let’s go somewhere quieter,” Xu Qi’an said via voice transmission.

The princess’s affected expression crumbled at once. Joy lit her brows and eyes, but she quickly suppressed it and turned to the maids.

“I have matters to discuss with Silver Gong Li. None of you are to disturb us.”

Once they were alone in her study, Lin’an whispered excitedly, “Ah, what brings you here? I was just thinking, with Xu Cijiu off at war, you can’t take on his form and come visit me anymore.”

*If I just wanted to visit, I could easily ask Huaiqing to help…* Xu Qi’an stepped up to her desk and said, “This visit is for a serious matter. Your Highness, do you read cursive script? I have a document in cursive I’d like you to read aloud.”

Upon hearing that, Biaobiao lit up with glee, nodding vigorously like a pecking chick. “I do, I do!”

Finally, she had a chance to show off her surprising academic talents before her running dog.

*As I thought, even if she is a terrible student, that’s all relative. As a princess, how could she not have any literary ability…* Xu Qi’an stood by the desk, delighted as he reached into his coat.

Suddenly, his face froze. His pupils shrank.

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[^1]: 破阵子 _Dance of the Cavalry_ by Xin Qiji. Translation ours.

[^2]: 精忠报国 *Loyalty to the country*, chinese folk song paying tribute to the Song general Yue Fei

[^3]: I can confirm, I learnt _some_ curive but still struggle like hell with it. It’s almost an entirely different script