Chapter 304: Hello Chang'an
Chapter 304: Heaven Does Not Abandon Heluo
Chang Suining descended from the altar and stood upon the stone steps below. Though she stood alone, her silent presence seemed to shield Zheng Chao, who was still upon the altar behind her. Facing Li Xian, she spoke in her usual calm tone:
“I have been engaged in disaster relief near Xingyang these past days. Hasn’t that subordinate of yours, the one called Guo Fu, ever mentioned it to you, General Li?”
The “Guo Fu” in her words was the unlucky fellow she had encountered during the pursuit of Yuan Miao—she had once inspected his waist token herself.
Li Xian replied evenly, his expression unreadable, though courteous:
“I have heard some mention of it, yet I did not expect to meet the General of Ningyuan here in Xingyang City.”
Chang Suining’s voice was unruffled as well:
“I heard that the elder of the Zheng family was holding a grain donation and prayer ceremony in the city, so I came to join in the bustle.”
Li Xian smiled faintly and met her gaze:
“Then it truly is quite the coincidence. May I ask, General of Ningyuan—do you intend to hinder me in carrying out my duty?”
The matter of her men intercepting his and taking away the prisoners of war had yet to be settled.
Chang Suining replied:
“Of course not. I merely wish to remind General Li that according to the rites and laws of the Da Sheng Dynasty, any official or government-sanctioned ceremony of offering and prayer must not be disturbed. To do so is considered an act that disrupts the nation’s fortune—and if the offense is grave, it is punishable by death.”
Li Xian’s brows twitched slightly, and he gave a short laugh, glancing at the bloodstained altar:
“This—counts as a prayer ceremony?”
Chang Suining turned her head, unperturbed:
“And why not? Has there not been a precedent for it in Luoyang City?”
The mocking smile on Li Xian’s lips froze a little.
“I was unaware that this prayer was one initiated by the Xingyang authorities—”
Just then, the magistrate of Xingyang and other officials, having heard of the commotion, hurried to the scene. Li Xian turned to the magistrate for confirmation.
The Xingyang magistrate verified that the ceremony had indeed been permitted under his authority, stamped with the seal of the Prefectural Office.
It was true—he had approved it. Yet he had never imagined that the Zheng family would slaughter their own atop the altar!
By law, a murderer ought to be arrested. Yet in Xingyang, the Zheng clan’s ancestral code outweighed the law—such matters were to be handled first within the clan.
But now the Zheng family had been branded as collaborators of the rebel Xu, and the slain head of the Zheng clan was deemed the main conspirator. That, of course, put it beyond his jurisdiction entirely.
And to make matters worse—this General Li Xian had arrived suddenly, unannounced, intending to strike the Zheng clan by surprise. Had he informed the magistrate beforehand, the man would never have approved the ceremony…
Then again—perhaps he still might have. After all, one could not easily refuse a donation of ten thousand shi of grain.
The magistrate of Xingyang possessed a certain courage born of greed.
The bellies of the starving could not wait. A single day’s delay could spark riots. He dared not hope that, once the Zheng estate was confiscated, this General Li Xian would promptly distribute the seized grain to the famished. The man’s ruthless conduct these past days was well known—slaughtering clans, seizing wealth under the guise of justice.
Whereas the General of Ningyuan—she had spent these days in the vicinity of Xingyang rescuing victims and soothing the displaced. At the very onset of the floods, it was she, together with Hu Lin of Bian Prefecture, who had warned them to make preparations in advance.
The magistrate’s heart weighed its own scales. At last he spoke:
“Since the prayer ceremony has begun, to interrupt it midway would be deemed an offense of irreverence toward the spirits…”
The rites were called rites because ceremony came before all else—especially now, in times of calamity.
Li Xian had no wish to invite ill fortune. He only asked,
“Then when, may I ask, will this prayer ceremony conclude?”
The magistrate looked troubled.
“Master Zheng is most sincere in his devotion. He intends to continue praying until the rain ceases…”
Do not ask further—Luoyang City had set this precedent.
Li Xian sneered inwardly.
Meanwhile, among the people gathered around the altar, a ripple of unrest began to stir. They could not hear what Li Xian and the others were discussing—only that the soldiers he brought had drawn their blades and surrounded the altar, intent on seizing Zheng Chao.
Among the front ranks stood many scholars. When they had first heard of the fate of the aristocrats in Luoyang, they had felt a surge of vindication—it seemed justice at last, that poor scholars might finally rise.
Yet as the court’s slaughter of noble clans widened, fear and unease began to grow among them. They started to question themselves: was such mass killing of Aristocratic families truly a cause for rejoicing?
Many of those slain were innocent—scholars unknowing of politics, even women and children of the noble clans.
Now, in this moment, that vague unease took form before their eyes. The truth stood stark—the elder of the Zheng family, the revered Thatched Hall Master himself, was no villain.
To kill the innocent—was wrong!
Not all men of the clans were greedy or corrupt; not all deserved to be wiped out!
Master Zheng must not be taken away like this—to be humiliated and butchered as those Luoyang scholars had been!
From within the crowd, someone’s voice rang out first:
“Master Zheng has acted with righteousness, punishing his kin for treachery! His virtue and loyalty are known to all of Xingyang. He could never be a conspirator of the Xu rebels! We beg the Imperial Commissioner to investigate according to the law!”
The scholar bit hard upon the words “investigate according to the law.”
At once, countless voices joined in chorus.
“Not only that! Master Zheng rendered great merit in the flood prevention of the Huang River! Were it not for him, the waters would have drowned all of Xingyang long ago!”
The speaker was Ah Che, hidden among the crowd—his voice alone carried.
The townsfolk of Xingyang were astonished.
Many scholars’ eyes reddened in shock.
So—Master Zheng had not only taught them his knowledge in secret, but had also risked his life to tame the floodwaters!
How many deeds of kindness had he done that they had never known?
Master Zheng was a great rock they were but the fledglings he had fed with selfless care—only now did they realize the depth of his benevolence.
Emotion surged through the masses. They looked upon the soldiers’ drawn blades with growing defiance.
Some scholars began to think—if the aristocrats’ existence was unjust, what of these men now wielding such cruelty? If men like these were to replace the noble clans entirely, would justice truly be restored?
If the very foundation of scholarship and ritual were to be wiped from the world, where then would the integrity of scholars survive?
The noble clans had their sins—but they did not deserve annihilation!
Perceiving the shift in mood, Li Xian sneered inwardly twice.
These ignorant fools—so easily roused by a few words. They were born to crawl beneath others’ feet, like ants.
And there was no need to clash with such ants. Zheng Chao—merely a man desperate to save his own skin—could not escape him forever.
Li Xian gave no further orders to seize Zheng Chao. Instead, he commanded his men to guard the altar until the prayer ended:
“The rest of you, come with me—to the Zheng estate!”
The magistrate and his subordinates hastily stepped aside, hearts filled with dread. They knew—today, Xingyang was destined to become the next Luoyang.
Li Xian cast a sidelong glance at Chang Suining, who stood watching the “spectacle,” and said with a faint smile:
“Will the General of Ningyuan accompany me?”
He suspected that this whole affair—the prayer, the timing—had something to do with her. His words were a probe.
But Chang Suining simply shook her head with mild indifference.
“I would not dare to disturb General Li in his duty.”
Li Xian smiled faintly and nodded, then turned his horse as though to depart.
In truth, while he had been negotiating here, he had already dispatched three thousand troops along another route to the Zheng estate—opening the way for today’s operation.
He had never intended for a single member of the Zheng clan to escape from Xingyang alive.
The previous night, he had personally sharpened his sword. The Zheng clan—foremost among the Central Plains’ noble families, the maternal kin of Cui Jing—was indeed lofty enough to merit his special attention.
Yet just as Li Xian led his men around the altar, the crowd ahead suddenly parted. From the opposite direction came a disciplined and imposing troop, cutting off his path.
Li Xian pulled his reins tight, frowning swiftly—Cui Jing?
The troop drew near. The young man at its head spoke calmly from horseback:
“Yesterday, upon receiving Zheng Chao’s report accusing the Zheng family head of colluding with Xu Zhengye, and upon confirming it with solid proof, I have now placed the entire Zheng household under control. All who resisted have been executed.”
“What?”
Li Xian thought he had misheard.
So—it was Cui Jing himself who had taken troops to suppress and seize the Zheng family?
On his way to Xingyang, he had already learned that Cui Jing was nearby. He had assumed the man would avoid involvement, lest he be accused of favoritism—perhaps even stand against the court for the Zheng clan’s sake. If that had happened, Li Xian would have found it rather interesting.
But instead—this man had preempted him, taking control of the Zheng family before he could act.
He understood now. The offering of grain, the prayers for rain, the public execution of Zheng Ji to stir the people’s hearts… and the Zheng clan’s supposed act of suicidal resistance that never came—
Ha! So that was the truth.
Cui Jing’s expression remained calm.
“In addition, the Zheng clan has voluntarily offered up all the books in their secret archives, pleading that the Holy Emperor be informed of their repentance and show mercy—not to absolve their crimes, but only to spare the innocent among them.”
Li Xian’s eyes swept toward three soldiers of the Xuanzhe Army beside Cui Jing. Each held a chest in his arms—inside lay the keys to the Zheng family’s three great secret libraries.
Countless scholars among the crowd turned to look. Those three chests contained treasures beyond measure—the greatest cultural trove in all Heluo.
Li Xian slowly drew back his gaze, fixing it on Cui Jing.
“With Grand General Cui personally demonstrating loyalty above kinship, this case has progressed with remarkable speed.”
Cui Jing replied evenly:
“I act under Imperial decree. Having received a report, I could not ignore it for the sake of private ties. Should any within the Zheng clan bear suspicion of conspiracy, General Li may, of course, take them for questioning in accordance with the law.”
Li Xian sneered inwardly.
Now that the entire Zheng clan was under Cui Jing’s control, anyone he wished to seize would still have to pass under Cui Jing’s watchful eyes. He did not doubt that Cui Jing would not dare to protect the guilty—but to kill only those whose deaths were inevitable—what meaning was there in that?
His sword had been honed for the destruction of the entire Zheng clan.
This trip, truly, had ended in disappointment.
Suppressing the irritation within his chest, Li Xian raised his hand on the reins and said with false admiration:
“For Grand General Cui to act with such impartiality—Li shall surely report to the Holy Emperor the noble act of a man who sacrifices righteousness over kinship.”
Every word he uttered revolved around those four characters—“righteousness above kinship.”
It was, perhaps, the only interesting event of the day.
He knew perfectly well that Cui Jing’s act, though outwardly a suppression, was in truth a rescue of the Zheng clan. A benevolent deception, perhaps—but the world would not see it that way. Least of all the noble clans.
Soon, all would hear that it was Cui Jing who had personally led his troops to break the gates of the Zheng estate and offer up the family’s hidden archives to the court.
Thinking this, Li Xian laughed softly again, saluted Cui Jing with clasped hands, and ordered Zheng Ji’s corpse to be taken away. Then he spurred his horse and led his men toward the Zheng estate.
Around them, the townsfolk’s gazes turned to the striking young commander, whispering among themselves, their expressions mixed and uneasy.
Cui Jing sat astride his horse, fingers still faintly stained with blood—proof, it seemed, of his “righteousness above kinship.”
His gaze passed over the fearful and confused stares, looking only toward the altar above.
Chang Suining smiled at him.
The tension in Cui Jing’s brow quietly loosened.
As Chang Suining prepared to step down from the altar, a bloodstained hand suddenly caught at the hem of her robe.
She turned—and saw Zheng Chao, limp and trembling, his face twisted between tears and a bitter smile.
“Please, General of Ningyuan… stay and pray with me.”
Who could understand the turmoil in his heart? He had taken a life for the first time—his own cousin’s—and now the great Zheng clan would crumble and vanish. Heaven itself seemed to have collapsed upon him, yet he must still remain to pray for forgiveness.
He was now both sinner and traitor of his clan. What if, while he prayed, someone tried to assassinate him? Surely it was best to have a warrior at his side—a protector like the famed General of Ningyuan, said to be born beneath a star of command.
And perhaps Heaven, for her sake, might even stop the rain sooner.
Zheng Chao’s thoughts swirled wildly between grief and absurd hope. He wanted to cry, yet also to laugh. He felt a strange release, as though the chains of fate had broken—though sorrow still lingered for the fall of his family. Still, he knew—amid this ruin, they had at least won the smallest mercy Heaven could grant.
Moved by his earnest plea, Chang Suining could not refuse. She remained with him upon the altar to continue the prayers.
The ceremonial altar was draped with a canopy embroidered with scriptures. Those praying for blessings could sit cross-legged beneath it and recite sutras—but when the rain grew heavy, the canopy was useless, unable to keep much of it out.
Zheng Chao, wholly intent on atoning for the sins of the Zheng clan, did not sit cross-legged like a monk. Instead, he knelt upon the altar, confessing the clan’s wrongs before both mortals and gods.
Several scholars who had once received his guidance at the Thatched Hall, and thus attained their scholarly titles, gathered around the altar and refused to leave, praying together with him.
Li Xian’s trusted army came and went through the Zheng household, which was tightly guarded by Xuanzhe’s soldiers, taking away those clan members who were far from innocent. The questioning and punishment of the Zheng clan of Xingyang thus proceeded—neither calm nor chaotic, but eerily tranquil.
After Li Xian departed for Xingyang, the supervision of detained aristocratic clans in and around Luoyang was handed over to Cui Jing’s men. From then on, no more wrongful killings occurred.
The rain hastened the fall of night. Ah Dian took the umbrella from Cui Jing’s hand, climbed the altar, and held it over the nearly soaked-through Chang Suining.
When Chang Suining looked up at her, Ah Dian said with aggrieved yet resolute eyes, “If the Buddha must blame someone, let Him blame me. I insisted on holding the umbrella for you!”
Chang Suining smiled. “Don’t worry. The Buddha wouldn’t fuss over a child.”
She turned her head and gazed through the rain curtain toward the direction of the Huang River.
Zheng Chao, too, had been looking that way all along. He was counting the days—or rather, the hours.
In the darkness, cries of the townspeople began to rise.
Listening to those cries, Ah Dian, still sitting cross-legged like Chang Suining, held the umbrella with one hand and wiped her tears with the other.
That night, the people of Xingyang stayed up sewing two “Umbrellas of the People.” One was for the Thatched Hall Master who had gone to the Huang River to offer grain and prayers; the other was for General Ningyuan, who had slain the rebel Xu and spent days aiding the flood victims at Xingyang.
At dawn, a child of five or six climbed the altar carrying the two umbrellas. Handing one to Ah Dian, the little boy then went to the side of Zheng Chao, whose hair had come undone and whose face was pale with exhaustion.
“Master Zheng, I’ll hold the umbrella for you! Everyone says the Buddha won’t blame a child!”
The boy’s tender voice rang out as he clumsily opened the umbrella.
At that very moment, as the umbrella opened, Chang Suining looked up through the colorful tassels hanging from its edge toward the horizon.
She didn’t know if she was seeing things—but the dark clouds were scattering, and soon, a dazzling beam of light broke through from the east.
“…The sun!”
“This umbrella’s amazing—it made the sun come out!” Ah Dian cried out in delight, jumping with excitement.
Soon, countless voices of joy surged from all directions.
Chang Suining blinked; her pupils were brightened by the light.
So it wasn’t an illusion.
Zheng Chao, his lips pale, collapsed backward, all strength leaving his body. Tears welled at the corners of his reddened eyes. Staring up at the ever-brightening sky, he murmured, “Heaven has not abandoned He Luo… Heaven has not abandoned He Luo…”
…
The skies cleared across the Central Plains, and messages from all regions soon reached the capital.
(End of this chapter)
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