Volume 3, Chapter 66 – Outliers

Liu Haoran did not know “Meng Qian” personally.

Or, to put it another way, he’d heard the name “Meng Qian” more than once, but he had never been willing to make his acquaintance.

This was because the Fengchang Office was a rather special sort of department. Those appointed as its officials were usually not well-known scholars, and even if such an appointment really did come down, the scholars would never accept it.

After all, they had set their hearts on using what they’d learned to serve the state and benefit the people, and to leave their names in history. With that kind of ambition, how could they be willing to go skulk around in the Fengchang Office, listening at walls?

“Rats,” “crows”… the nicknames for that crowd were downright filthy.

Liu Haoran was a great scholar, now ninety-six years old. The private academy he ran was different from universities: publicly it was billed as a place for extra tutoring, but in truth it was more like a fellowship, teaching not only history and culture, but the political thought contained within.

His disciples had long since become famous across the land, and not a few among them had once held lofty office and climbed to the very top among men. But he had never been proud or self-satisfied about that credential.

Just as with the lessons he’d once given Zhang Xianzhi, what he truly hoped was that his disciples would understand what power actually meant.

If he hadn’t been that noble in character, how would he have come to be called “Mister Cijing”?

“The rosy face leaves the mirror, flowers part from the tree”—only by saying farewell to what is most proud and most beautiful in oneself can one see through it all… That title was the summary of his life’s work, and carried a touch of Chan meaning.

Even someone like him “did not want” to have anything to do with people from the Fengchang Office; one could imagine just how disliked they were in Great Yu’s officialdom and cultural circles.

The person who picked up the phone clearly knew who Liu Haoran was; their tone became noticeably hesitant. “This… I’m very sorry, Master Meng may not be very convenient to reach right now…”

So the man wasn’t there.

Liu Haoran naturally understood the implication. He nodded. “Then let’s leave it at that. I’ll look for him another time when there’s a chance.”

But in truth, there would be no next time.

He hadn’t called to probe anything, and he didn’t really have such an intense curiosity that he had to question Meng Qian in person. What he wanted was to send a signal outward, to make the outside world actively speculate: what did it mean that Liu Haoran had done this?

What had startled this grand old man?

What had made him abandon the unspoken rule of the scholarly world, and, at the cost of staining his own reputation, take the initiative to contact that old crow?

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Let them guess.

Liu Haoran chuckled and hung up the phone.

Reality unfolded just as he had expected. In less than half an hour, the news that he had called the Fengchang Office to try to find Meng Qian and ask questions had spread throughout the Nine Provinces, and was echoing especially loudly through the great households and academies.

Outside Yujing, at the Liu estate.

Liu Xi had just returned from the palace. After hearing the news, he frowned and pondered for a long time.

Traveling with him was a long-bearded man with a face like white jade. Seeing this, the man personally stepped forward to pour tea for Liu Xi, and probed, “My lord, are you thinking about Liu Chuanzheng?”

“Chuanzheng” was Liu Haoran’s courtesy name. Just as very few people would address Liu Xi by his given name directly, and would instead call him “sir,” “Chancellor,” or “Lord Liu Gongzhu,” such things were all basic forms of courtesy.

“I can’t read him at all.” Liu Xi took the tea and had a sip. “The scholarly and official worlds may be separate, but compared to the historians’ school standing on its own, the two sides are much closer. Liu Chuanzheng has always treated them with a cold shoulder—I’ve no idea what he’s trying to do now.”

“Perhaps he’s standing up for a disciple?” the man guessed. “That Zhang Xianzhi is his student as well. I hear this man’s been a bit too big for his boots lately, and his reputation here in Yujing isn’t very good.”

“Heh.” Liu Xi smiled at him and reached out to tap a finger at him. “You… as if I don’t know exactly what’s on your mind.”

The long-bearded man looked to be around thirty-five. His frame was straight, his bearing outstanding, but when facing Liu Xi he had a somewhat ingratiating air; an outsider could tell at a glance who was master and who was guest between the two.

But that was only right, because this man’s name was Han Yu—the very candidate Liu Xi had once recommended to take the post of Maozhou Chief Inspector. He was firmly in Liu Xi’s camp.

Han Yu showed not the slightest shame. Instead, he smiled. “I just feel it’s not worth it for you, my lord.”

“What’s not worth it?” Liu Xi lowered his head and continued drinking his tea, speaking in a very plain tone. “This is how officialdom is. It’s not that you get promoted by me and are then supposed to remember my kindness for life. That’s not how it works—you’re simply not in control of yourself.”

Han Yu wanted to say something more, but Liu Xi lifted his gaze, fixing him with a sharp look. “What if His Majesty had chosen you?”

“What if His Majesty had felt there were too many capable people clustered around me and wanted a good hand for his own use—and instead of choosing Zhang Xianzhi this time, he chose you?”

“Han Yu, tell me—would you still be talking to me with this attitude?”

Han Yu’s face stiffened at once.

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This was a question that couldn’t be answered correctly, no matter how you tried.

“Just keep it in your heart.” Liu Xi smiled. “Plenty of people are laughing at me right now, saying the Zhang Xianzhi I raised up has become my opponent, tripping me up every day in Maozhou, rejecting the people I send there. But how do they know that the gains and losses here aren’t exactly what I wanted?”

“If that’s how I am, what about Liu Chuanzheng?”

Han Yu’s brows twitched. “Then his intention is…”

“To stand publicly at Xianzhi’s side, and to knock on the heads of the others, telling them not to play dirty tricks—that’s the first.” Liu Xi narrowed his eyes. “Indirectly acknowledging the Bai clan’s achievements—that’s the second.”

“As for the third…”

“That may already go beyond anything purely political, so you don’t need to stick your nose into it.”

At the same time, in Huang State, in Guanling Circuit, a borderland like Dingbei Circuit. In a faux-ancient tavern in the circuit city, two people were seated in a private room.

One of them was Zhao Feng, still dressed all in black, a heavy sword on his back, staring fixedly at the woman across from him.

“Senior Sister Lu is dead,” he said bluntly. “Killed by Shenming’s Bai Xiang.”

“Is that so.” The woman arched her brows and, smiling, took a swig of wine. “Then I must congratulate you.”

“After all, that means you’re now the new head of the Suzhen Sword line.”

Her skin was very fair; from her features and bone structure, you could tell her foundation was excellent. But she was dressed with complete laziness and sloppiness, her long black hair a matted mess that looked like it hadn’t been washed in who knew how long. She was focused entirely on pouring herself more wine, not touching the dishes on the table at all.

“Senior Sister Qin.” Zhao Feng frowned. “You know why I’m here.”

“Ah, I get it, I get it…”

Senior Sister Qin kept up that same giggling, unserious manner. “It definitely can’t be because you’re here for me.”

“I actually…” Zhao Feng began.

“You must be here for my master.” Senior Sister Qin grinned. “Can’t be helped! My master is the number one expert under heaven. One man and one sword is all it takes to make Suzhen Dao too scared to compete.”

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I endure.

Zhao Feng’s hands were on his lap; his fists loosened then clenched, clenched then loosened.

In the end he still forced out a smile. “Then I wonder if Senior Qin has any thoughts?”

“At least grant this junior some instructions, so I can go back and give an answer?”

He had no choice—circumstances were stronger than people.

The Suzhen lineage could look down on anyone, but when it came to these “lunatics,” even his own master had warned him never to provoke them under any circumstances.

“That I really don’t know~” Senior Sister Qin widened her eyes innocently. “What my master is thinking, how could someone with my meager cultivation see through it?”

“But, seeing as you’ve treated me to drinks, I can go ask for you.”

Zhao Feng let out a breath of relief, offered a few compliments, and watched her leave hugging the wine bottle.

Once she was out on the street, Senior Sister Qin’s gait instantly changed.

She didn’t look like she was moving especially fast, but her figure blurred; with a sway to the left and a sway to the right, she slipped through the gaps, and in no time at all she’d reached the border fortress, looking up at a fortified city tower.

The soldiers on guard, seeing her, slung their guns and saluted. She paid it no mind, lugging the wine as she scrambled up the tower with practiced ease, shouting as she went, “Old man? Old man! I brought you more wine again!”

“Wine? Real wine?”

An unkempt old man with hair like a bird’s nest was sprawled over the table snoring. At her shout he shot up, flailing and pouncing in a flash to snatch the wine bottle into his arms.

“Haha, this is Mandarin Duck Drunk? The signature wine of Mandarin Ducks Pavilion, one bottle costs your damn twenty-eight thousand… Where’d you, this scavenger of a disciple, get the money?”

The old man was delighted at first, then suddenly wary, eyes widening at Senior Sister Qin. “Don’t tell me you went and sold your body behind your master’s back?”

“Sell your shriveled old ass!” Senior Sister Qin exploded, cursing. “You’re the one who’s selling!”

“True enough.” The old man squinted, stroking his beard. “Your hair’s practically gone sour and you still won’t wash it. A lazy wench like you—no one would give you a second look.”

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“Heh…” Senior Sister Qin was so mad she laughed. “I don’t care, but some people would be left without even washed underwear if I were gone, living on nothing but wind three times a day…”

“Good disciple, good disciple!” The old man hugged the wine bottle tight, his nose red, grinning like a rogue. “Your master remembers all your kindness. Who said lazy wench? My disciple is peerless in grace and beauty!”

After the fooling around, Senior Sister Qin brought over a plate of fried peanuts from the back. Master and disciple sat cross-legged at the table, drinking and eating together.

“Master.”

When the wine was halfway gone, Senior Sister Qin finally brought up the real matter. “This wine was paid for by Suzhen. I’m sure you can smell it.”

“Mm…” The old man munched his peanuts, neither agreeing nor denying it.

“That Shenming’s Bai Xiang really is a genius. She attained the Dao three months earlier than you bragged she would.” Senior Sister Qin poured him another cup. “Seriously speaking, she really has broken the rules. So what is your take on it?”

“Let me ask you this,” the old man said. “If a place is plagued by constant flooding, and the locals build a very, very thick wall standing in the river, and tests show no water flow or heavy hammer can break it, can the nearby residents then rest easy?”

“Under normal circumstances, yes.” Senior Sister Qin frowned.

The old man chuckled. “And if things aren’t normal?”

“If they’re not, then you have to consider extreme situations…” Senior Sister Qin shook her head. “Because once such a wall has a problem, it means whatever can break it won’t be an ordinary flood. If people still treat it with the same mindset they used for past floods, they’re sure to suffer a huge loss.”

As she spoke, she caught on. “You mean Shenming Sword Dao might become the ‘great flood’ that breaks that wall?”

She was a bit lost as she said it, because she couldn’t quite pin down what exactly the wall stood for.

“I never said anything at all~”

The old man took a happy slurp of wine.

“I just think the world behind that wall is too boring, and I want to wait until that flood gets a bit bigger and watch it come crashing down for my amusement.”