Chapter 301: Hello Chang'an
Chapter 301: Shall We Try It Together?
That was a middle-aged man in his early forties. His dark blue robe was caked with mud, his features upright but shadowed by a trace of weary melancholy. The unkempt stubble on his chin made him appear even more dejected and desolate.
At first glance, he looked every bit the archetype of a scholar crushed beneath his own unfulfilled ambitions.
“This gentleman accompanied me to inspect the Huang River embankments and temporarily cleared several key passages,” Cui Jing introduced, though his words were more an acknowledgment than a true introduction.
He made no mention of the man’s name or background—only referred to him as sir.
Yet Cui Jing clearly affirmed the man’s merit. “The Huang River has long suffered from sediment buildup and unrepaired embankments. Were it not for this gentleman’s guidance, the river would have already overflowed.”
Cui Jing was not one to exaggerate. Chang Suining felt a deep sense of respect rise within her. She raised her hand and offered the man a solemn bow. “Sir, your virtue is immense.”
This was no empty praise.
Since the onset of the floods, thousands of homes in the surrounding prefectures had collapsed. She had witnessed with her own eyes the countless dead and injured, and vast fields reduced to a boundless expanse of water.
Had the Huang River burst its banks, the situation would have become far worse—they might not even have had the chance to erect the temporary shelters now serving as their refuge.
Jiang Cai, too, looked upon the man with admiration. “Sir, your service has saved countless lives. You should be commended before the Imperial Court!”
The man only gave a faint, bitter smile. “I merely did what I could. The defects in the Huang River embankments have long been known, but officials at every level have shirked responsibility. I and Lord Ling’an merely forced through emergency reinforcements where we could. What could be done has been done. If the rains do not cease soon, within five days, those fated to die will still die.”
His dispirited words left Jiang Cai momentarily at a loss.
“So be it,” the man continued, his tone resigned. “A man’s life ends in death sooner or later.” He stepped away, wading through ankle-deep water toward higher ground, murmuring under his breath, “The rise and fall of all things follow their own cause and consequence. If Heaven wills destruction, what can mere mortals do?”
Jiang Cai opened her mouth, then closed it again. This gentleman was truly the picture of despair. If he were sent into an enemy camp, he might well collapse an entire army’s morale—everyone would simply drop their weapons and weep together.
The news of Cui Jing’s arrival did not alarm the surrounding refugees. The county officials merely assumed a relief detachment had come to assist the General Ningyuan, unaware that it was in fact the Grand General Cui himself.
Chang Suining and Cui Jing walked to a slightly elevated spot and sat down upon a large stone. Ah Dian moved to follow but was intercepted by Yuan Xiang, who dragged him aside. “Ah Dian, why is there another person by Lady Chang’s side?”
It was an obvious diversion. Ah Dian leaned in, lowering his voice with a hint of pride. “I picked her up!”
Then he whispered conspiratorially, “But keep your distance. She bites!”
Yuan Xiang blinked in surprise, humoring him further, keeping Ah Dian properly distracted.
“By now, you must have heard what happened in Luoyang,” Chang Suining said, stretching her tired legs as she sat, eyes resting on the flickering clusters of firelight among the refugees. “By returning at this time, you’re courting trouble.”
It was already clear that the Holy Emperor intended to use this incident to purge the Luoyang aristocracy. The decree that Cui Jing and the Xuanzhe Army remain behind to suppress the unrest was clearly a test.
For the Holy Emperor’s target was not only the Luoyang nobles—the next blade was aimed at the Zheng clan of Xingyang, Cui Jing’s maternal family.
The Da Sheng Dynasty upheld the principle that kin should recuse themselves from matters of law involving relatives. This was why, for example, when the Pei case arose, the Holy Emperor had ordered Yao Yi, the Minister of Justice, to step aside to avoid suspicion.
It was an expression of imperial regard for her officials.
But this time, the ruler had explicitly commanded Cui Jing to remain and suppress the unrest involving his own kin. If the matter later implicated the Zhengs, Cui Jing could technically recuse himself—but that would be tantamount to turning his back on the aristocracy and openly severing ties with his own class.
The empire had its laws, and the great clans had their ancestral codes—codes that, in some respects, stood even above the law of the land. Should Cui Jing comply, he would incur infamy, scorned not only by the gentry but by the common people as well.
And should he defy imperial will and shield the Zhengs, he would be condemned as their accomplice.
This decree was meant to force Cui Jing into a final choice. The empire was unsteady, and the Holy Emperor no longer required a scion of the Cui clan to hold the command of the Xuanzhe Army. To reclaim that sword of power, she needed a pretext—something that would justify the act and soften the political upheaval it might bring.
Yet the floods had changed everything. While others were caught in the turmoil, Cui Jing, having gone to repair the Huang River embankments, had inadvertently distanced himself from the political storm. This spared him from slander and thwarted certain hands eager to exploit the chaos.
“You needn’t have hurried back,” said Chang Suining quietly.
“Yes,” Cui Jing replied, his gaze also fixed upon the scattered lights ahead. “I know.”
But still—he chose to return.
The middle-aged man in a scholar’s robe sat cross-legged alone upon a dark stone, gazing distantly toward the direction of Xingyang. As time passed, the look of despondence upon his face gradually turned numb.
At that moment, a frail figure approached and knelt down before him in the dimness.
“Uncle Zheng!”
The man looked somewhat surprised. “You are…?”
The young girl beside him lifted her tear-streaked face. “This junior is Yuan Miao, eldest daughter of the main Yuan family branch. Two years ago, I accompanied my grandfather to pay respects to Uncle Zheng.”
“So it is you.” The man sighed faintly. “I have heard… your grandfather has taken his own life in the Luoyang prison, and your father also…”
The girl, about fourteen or fifteen, could no longer hold back her tears. “That is why this junior came to Xingyang — to beg the Zheng family’s aid, to rescue my younger brother!”
But the man only shook his head helplessly.
The girl crawled one step closer and bowed deeply. “Though I am young, I still understand right from wrong. I know the Yuan family indeed colluded with the rebels — our family bears its sins and should accept punishment. But such guilt should not extend to my younger brother and the other innocent children!”
“That Li Xian is cruel beyond reason. On the slightest pretext, he orders torture and slaughter. Even the innocent collateral kin have had their estates surrounded by his troops — no one may enter or leave. Those who resist are executed; those who do not, within ten days, are starved, drowned, or buried alive! Among them are countless women and children — by law, they should not have died!”
“They even killed the esteemed elders of every clan, using their bodies for sacrifices in Luoyang. Those who refused to bow were dragged through the streets, insulted and humiliated before the crowd… Even the ordinary scholars and citizens who saw it could not bear the sight, for they all knew — a man of learning may be killed, but not disgraced!”
Her tears fell hot and fierce, her voice trembling with hatred. “They act so wantonly only to vent their wrath — they will not rest until every one of us is destroyed, until the backbone of all scholars beneath Heaven is shattered!”
The man closed his eyes briefly, lashes quivering, saying nothing.
“They even use the excuse of hunting fugitives to plunder innocent folk, taking advantage of the Huang River’s flooding…”
“Enough.” The man interrupted her softly. “The times are what they are. No matter how wrong they may be, it changes nothing. This matter is no longer mine to command. I am no longer head of the Zheng clan. I am but a useless man now — I cannot help you. You are fortunate to have survived. Leave, child. The farther you go, the better.”
“Uncle Zheng…”
He gazed toward Xingyang, his eyes void of life. “The Zheng clan too will not escape this calamity.”
For all the scholar clans of the Central Plains, this would be a catastrophe — none could escape.
In truth, he had long foreseen this day. Prosperity invites decline; the fall of the noble clans had already been written by fate.
Yet he had not imagined that their end would come in such a brutal, merciless fashion… The clans had their faults, yes, but they had also upheld the roots of the realm for a thousand years — was all of that to be destroyed overnight?
His cold fingers clenched faintly, suppressing the helpless ache in his heart.
The girl still knelt in the dirt, refusing to rise, tears falling like rain.
From the shadows, Chang Suining looked toward that kneeling figure. “That is a young lady of the Yuan clan of Luoyang.”
Born to a great family, the girl had no experience in fleeing for her life. Even her dagger bore the Yuan clan’s insignia.
Cui Jing asked, “Why did you save her?”
“She asked me to.” Chang Suining’s palms pressed against the ground. “I asked if she needed help. She nodded. So I helped.”
Cui Jing’s lips lifted faintly. His voice was low. “Your Highness truly never refuses anyone.”
Chang Suining smiled, though her eyes remained solemn. She looked across the distance. “I never wished to meddle in the struggle between the scholar clans and imperial power. I have neither the ability nor the position to intervene. Besides, I have always believed — whether it was the Pei clan or the Changsun clan, they lost and must bear it. The winner takes all — that is the way of the world.”
“I had no intention to interfere with this calamity of the Luoyang scholar clans either. In truth, I am partly responsible. I killed Xu Zhengye — his downfall led to theirs.”
“And now, the Zheng clan of Xingyang — they too are among the Four Great Families, and they are your mother’s kin.” Chang Suining turned toward Cui Jing. “Cui Jing, do you blame me?”
Cui Jing looked at her. “If I say I do—”
“Then so be it.” Chang Suining said firmly. “Even if I could live again, a hundred times over, I would still have to kill Xu Zhengye.”
Seeing her thus, Cui Jing’s voice softened. “I know.”
“If it were me,” he added quietly, “I would have done the same.”
He was no child incapable of discerning cause and effect. Even had she not slain Xu Zhengye, the destruction of the scholar clans was inevitable.
Since the previous dynasty, the throne had long sought to cast off the yoke of the aristocratic clans. Suppressing them had been the lifelong obsession of emperors — and the common wish of the lowborn scholars.
Now, the throne was held by a woman. The political tension between crown and clans had only deepened into a battle of life and death.
After a moment of silence, Chang Suining asked again, “Do you believe the scholar clan system should continue to exist?”
Cui Jing looked ahead. His voice was quiet. “What does Your Highness think?”
She looked at him — this young man, mud still clinging to his armor, fresh from dredging the Huang River’s embankments.
He had left home young, enlisted at twelve, and endured countless insults from the aristocrats for years.
“The scholar clans’ existence is indeed unjust,” Cui Jing said. “Even setting aside their suppression of the throne, their dominance is most unfair to the common-born scholars. Their arrogance and corruption are known to all.”
“Whether a thing is just or not often depends on where one stands,” said Chang Suining. “Those who profit from it rarely see its flaws — or refuse to admit them. You saw through it early on, and that is rare.”
That was, in truth, the source of Cui Jing’s “rebelliousness.”
His convictions ran counter to his clan’s interests. Unable to accept the Zhengs’ and Cuis’ way of survival, he forged a path of his own — one that none of his kin would approve.
“When I was young and naïve, I once tried to persuade my grandfather,” Cui Jing said. “He was not a rigid man, but after generations of inertia, a ship cannot be turned by one helmsman alone.” He paused. “Yet I still believe — so long as men live, there is always another way forward.”
Chang Suining looked at him. “Then may I take it that your decision to join the army was, in part, your attempt to find another path for the Cui clan?”
“Yes,” Cui Jing answered solemnly. “But not entirely.”
She regarded him quietly, then said with sincerity, “You are a fine general, and also a fine son of the Cui family.”
He had awakened early — yet was destined never to be understood.
Chang Suining asked no further, nor did she continue to debate the rights and wrongs of the clans. She turned her gaze afar. “This is the Central Plains — the very heart of Huaxia. It has ever been said, ‘He who holds the Central Plains, holds the world.’ This land is not only where armies contend, but also where a thousand years of civilization have flourished into the brilliant culture of the Heluo region.”
And “unfortunately,” much of that Heluo culture still lay in the hands of the great clans, preserved through their generations.
“These ancient traditions,” she said, “give the people rites to follow and the realm laws to uphold. If they are all destroyed overnight, how long will it take to rebuild them?”
Such rites sustain political order.
Such culture sustains the very soul of the realm.
To wipe it out completely — that would not only ruin the present, but wound the ages to come.
Like scattering stars across the night — dimming them may prevent danger, but shattering them utterly… would that not be too much?
And now, human strife coincided with natural disaster — the two together enough to shake the world’s foundations.
“Politics knows no absolute right or wrong,” Chang Suining said plainly. “But Li Xian’s slaughter to the last root — that I cannot accept. These thousand-year legacies of culture should not be cut off by the sword.”
As always, she did not seek to argue morality. She only wished to do what she felt must be done.
So this time, she would intervene — to seek a middle path.
Rising to her feet, Chang Suining looked toward Cui Jing. “Will you try with me?”
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