Chapter 315: Hello Chang'an
Chapter 315: Stop Acting (6,000-Word Bonus Chapter)
Chang Suining personally escorted Zheng Chao on his departure, with Yuan Xiang and several guards following at a measured distance — close enough to protect, far enough not to intrude upon conversation.
This was the temporary office of Cui Jing, the Grand General. Though staff were few, the defenses were tight; apart from the patrolling Xuanzhe Army, not a single idle soul could be seen along the way.
Zheng Chao expressed his gratitude.
The world believed that it had been he who had “righteously slain his own kin” — killing Zheng Ji for the greater good. But only he knew that everything had begun from the moment this General Ningyuan had appeared before him with Ling’an, asking softly, “Does Master Zheng know how to kill a man?”
From that moment onward, the fate of the Zheng clan and of the descendants of the Luoyang Aristocratic clans had changed completely.
“This humble one shall remember the General’s grace all my life,” said Zheng Chao, stopping upon a moss-green stone path to bow. “Should the General ever have need of me in the future, I shall not refuse.”
Chang Suining lifted a hand to motion him upright, smiling gently. “Master Zheng is too polite.”
Polite indeed — yet she truly loved this sort of politeness between people.
In her experience, everyone who had ever told her, “If ever you have need of me…” ended up being of use to her one way or another.
To forge good relations had been her lifelong pursuit — and, if she were honest, her most pragmatic one.
Meeting the sincere smile in the young woman’s eyes, Zheng Chao felt a faint chill run down the back of his neck despite the midsummer noon heat.
Without knowing why, he asked, “Now that all is settled here, may I ask where the General Ningyuan plans to go next?”
Chang Suining continued walking as she answered calmly, “Before long, I shall proceed to Jiangdu under imperial order to join my father and wipe out the remnants of Xu Zhengye’s forces across the south.”
That plan had been made long before the floods, only delayed by the disaster.
Xu Zhengye’s surviving troops were scattered not only in Jiangdu and Yangzhou but also in Jinling and Jiangning. When she and Xiao Min had laid their ambush at Bian River, they had left only a small number of men under Chang Kuo’s command. And with the floods devastating the southern lands, recovery had been slow.
“Xu Zhengye is dead, and the Aristocratic clans that conspired with him in the Central Plains have been exiled,” Zheng Chao said. “To pacify the south is only a matter of time… Yet after this calamity, I fear Jiangnan may never again be what it once was.”
He sighed. Who could say whether the south would ever be given time to heal?
When Xu Zhengye first rebelled, his sword had fallen upon Jiangdu and Yangzhou — slaying the local officials almost to a man. The offices of Chief Secretary, Prefect, and Governor lay vacant.
Yangzhou now was like a wounded giant, and wounded giants drew wolves.
Thus, Zheng Chao reasoned, when the city was finally reclaimed, the appointment of new officials — whether they had the heart to rebuild and the strength to hold it — would determine the fate of the entire south.
He spoke with wistful emotion, recalling the Jiangnan of his youth — seasons like paintings, prosperous and tranquil, steeped in learning and grace.
“In my memory,” he said softly, “the place I most longed to see was always Jiangnan.”
Chang Suining turned slightly, gazing toward the direction of Jiangnan, her lips curving. “I like it very much too.”
The casual tone of her reply somehow chilled Zheng Chao more than any solemn vow could have. He sensed that her “like” and his “like” were of entirely different kinds.
His “like” meant ‘It is a beautiful land; I admire it.’
Her “like” sounded far more like ‘It is a beautiful land — and I want it.’
That subtle realization made his heart thud, a faint alarm bell ringing in his mind.
Then she spoke again, her tone still mild: “When Jiangnan is restored, Master Zheng should visit and lecture there as my guest. I shall receive you personally.”
Guest?
Receive him personally?
That was unmistakably the tone of a host.
The alarm in Zheng Chao’s mind went from ringing to clanging — clang, clang, clang! Sparks all but flew.
If before she had merely wanted Jiangnan, this sentence made it sound as though she already had a sack ready and was tossing the whole region into it.
Seeing him fall silent, Chang Suining turned her head. “Master Zheng?”
Zheng Chao snapped back to himself and forced a smile. “I would not miss it for the world.”
She returned the smile — serene, knowing.
Their gazes met. Zheng Chao’s thoughts spun swiftly. He remembered the young man he had seen earlier in the Grand General’s quarters — that Chang family son. Could it be that the Changs too harbor ambitions to claim a share of this chaotic world?
Yet this General Ningyuan was anything but reckless. If she did harbor such designs, why reveal them to him?
Was she planting seeds for a future alliance?
As he pondered, she spoke again — as though discussing the weather. “And what does Master Zheng make of the world’s current state?”
Her tone was so calm that it felt like she was asking whether tomorrow would be sunny or rainy.
Zheng Chao instinctively glanced around before answering in a low sigh, “The world is already in chaos, and Her Majesty concerns herself only with consolidating power, acting too harshly. Of course, for a woman of foreign blood to claim the throne, fierce decisiveness was needed — otherwise, she could never have secured it.”
He shook his head slowly. “But when the Son of Heaven cares only for power, who then will care for the peace of the realm?”
Since her ascension, the Holy Emperor had ruled through suppression — cleansing her court, cutting down vassal princes and generals she could not control, executing royal kin under real or fabricated charges, ever balancing one power against another. Every decree served the sole purpose of strengthening the throne.
Her methods had worked. For thirteen years, she had held the realm firmly in her hands — an achievement even the Li bloodline might not have managed. Her vigilance and resolve were, in Zheng Chao’s eyes, admirable.
But such methods sowed seeds that must one day erupt.
Her destruction of the Aristocratic clans’ foundation had only hastened the storm to come.
“The so-called rebellion of the Aristocratic clans is but one part,” he continued. “In Dao Prefecture, farmers have risen in revolt. The vassal princes grow restless. Foreign tribes eye our borders like tigers.”
Even this single “clan rebellion” had left the court overwhelmed, unable to fill vacant posts or quell uprisings quickly, its decrees trapped in paralysis.
“When decrees no longer flow,” said Zheng Chao, “it is like a river dammed by flood — pressure builds until the banks collapse.”
He shook his head. The sickness was deep; the tide irreversible. Not even the Emperor, he believed, could turn it back.
“If the realm must break,” he said quietly, “then may it at least be rebuilt — may someone arise to gather the chaos and win back the hearts of all, saving the people from fire and flood.”
For the common folk, it mattered little who ruled, so long as they might live in peace.
He was, after all, just one among those common souls now.
Hearing such sincerity, Chang Suining’s tone grew almost daring. “And tell me, Master Zheng — in your eyes, is there anyone capable of uniting the realm?”
Behind them, Yuan Xiang and the guards followed at a respectful eight paces. The topic was perilous, yet their voices were low; beneath her composure, Chang Suining’s alertness ensured no third party could overhear.
Zheng Chao gave a short laugh and shook his head. “I have been confined in Xingyang too long to judge men. I dare not presume.”
Chang Suining smiled faintly. “Then your forthcoming travels will be a fine opportunity to observe.”
Zheng Chao hurriedly protested, “General, please — mind your words. I am only going to lecture, nothing more!”
To be mistaken for someone seeking a master to serve in rebellion — that would be a disaster!
“Do not be alarmed,” she said calmly. “My words will go no further. I merely ask that, should you truly meet someone capable of restoring unity to the realm, you would kindly inform me.”
Her words made Zheng Chao’s heart pound again.
Inform her? For what purpose?
To join that person… or to kill him first?
The question was too frightening to dwell upon. And yet perhaps the more important question was this — what if such a person never appeared at all?
Chang Suining seemed to ponder the same.
As things stood, none of the figures on the board seemed adequate.
Some, like Crown Prince Li Zhi, lacked the ability to rule.
Some, like those manipulating chaos from the shadows, lacked virtue.
Others, still rising and untested, lacked foundation.
If no one proved worthy — if there were none she could entrust with the Da Sheng Dynasty’s rivers and mountains, none she could trust with the fate of all its people —
Then perhaps, she thought quietly, it was time she seriously considered other possibilities.
Zheng Chao could not quite tell what exactly the General Ningyuan meant by her words “inform me.”
But he nodded anyway.
The topic was growing ever more perilous, so he seized the first chance to change it.
“By the way,” he said, “I have here a letter that must be handed to the General.”
As he spoke, Zheng Chao reached into his robe — only to draw out several silver drafts first. His face reddened. There really were too many; he would have to find a proper bundle to keep them in later.
After rummaging a while longer, he finally produced a letter and passed it to Chang Suining.
The letter had been given to him on the road from the Zheng estate to this place — sent from Luoyang.
It was a letter of gratitude from Yuan Miao, the young fugitive from an Aristocratic clan whom Chang Suining had once saved.
Yuan Miao’s parents and grandfather had all died in prison. In the letter she wrote that her younger brother had lost two fingers but survived by fortune. She and the remaining Yuan clansmen were soon to be exiled from Luoyang; unable to thank the General in person, she vowed that one day she and her brother would repay the debt.
That night, when Chang Suining and Cui Jing had secretly discussed plans with Zheng Chao, Yuan Miao had been present. Others did not know, but she understood well what kind of grace her family owed those three.
One was reviled by the world.
One had been expelled from his clan.
And one’s deeds remained hidden, unspoken.
But she would remember — and she would tell her brother — and they would remember forever.
Reading the final four characters, “Until We Meet Again,” Chang Suining folded the letter and tucked it away.
“Speaking of which, I too must thank Master Zheng,” she said, meeting his questioning gaze before glancing toward the Wanmin Umbrella he carried. “Had you not pulled me along that day to pray together, I would not have gained a Wanmin Umbrella for free.”
One umbrella was nothing much — and yet it had made her a figure in every storyteller’s mouth.
Zheng Chao chuckled. “As the saying goes, blessings are meant to be shared.”
In truth, sharing blessings was false; sharing danger was the truth. He had not prayed in hopes of success that day, only that standing beside someone who could fight might keep him alive.
He added with genuine feeling, “What the General has done far exceeds what Zheng has ever done.”
And so had Ling’an — that poor, wronged nephew of his, bearing so much for others.
Thinking of the unlucky yet still wealthy young man, Zheng Chao sighed meaningfully, choosing his words with care. “The General surely knows — that child, Ling’an, lost his mother early.”
“His father has never been one to tolerate him.”
“And now, stripped from his clan… all alone in this world…”
In short, if that pitiful youth might find someone willing to care for him a little more, it would truly be a blessing.
Chang Suining nodded with an expression of deep sympathy.
The great gate now lay before them; Zheng Chao finally ceased his attempt to win pity for his nephew, bowing in farewell.
Chang Suining returned the bow and watched him depart.
Outside, Ah Che came forward. “General, shall we return?”
Chang Suining nodded absently, then paused mid-thought. “No — I’ve forgotten someone.”
Ah Che blinked. Oh right — the young master!
She had grown so used to her mistress riding out alone that she had nearly forgotten there was still a brother to collect.
Little did she know, when the General had first said “forgot someone,” it had not even been her brother who came to mind.
It was only when Chang Suining stepped back into Cui Jing’s quarters and heard a familiar male voice that she recalled — ah, right, I left my brother here.
She entered and said, “I wish to borrow someone from the Grand General.”
Cui Jing nodded and turned toward Yuan Xiang. “Send the man in secret.”
“?” Yuan Xiang looked utterly bewildered.
Who? Which person?
The Grand General and the Young Miss Chang exchanged looks of unspoken understanding, but he was no mind reader!
Cui Jing noticed his confusion and explained, “The surviving prisoner.”
At last Yuan Xiang understood and went off to make arrangements.
“I shall return now,” said Chang Suining. “Take care of your wounds. Once the interrogation is finished, I’ll let you know the result.”
Cui Jing nodded. “Very well.”
“Brother, let’s go.”
“Ah? Yes!” said Chang Sui'an — still dazed as he rose to bow to Cui Jing.
He had been distracted, wondering why the Grand General — that iron-blooded man — seemed oddly… docile before his sister.
Impossible, he thought. How could “Cui Jing” and “docile” belong in the same breath?
He risked another covert glance, only to find Cui Jing looking straight at him.
The force of that gaze made him instantly avert his eyes and bow out hastily.
Two days earlier, the men Chang Suining had dispatched had returned to the Bianzhou camp.
When Xiao Min received orders that a “traitor” was to be escorted to Xingyang, Deputy Commander Dong volunteered at once.
“Since it is someone the General Ningyuan personally requested,” he said, “we cannot afford any mishap. Allow me to lead the escort.”
He had often followed Xiao Min in Shouzhou, though he had not accompanied him to Bian River. Originally, he was part of Chang Kuo’s pursuit of Xu Zhengye’s forces, and had only recently come to Bianzhou to deliver a message.
Xiao Min, busy with other matters, agreed without hesitation. “Very well. Go swiftly — and let there be no mistakes.”
Dong bowed and departed with a dozen men.
The prisoner, his head covered by a cloth sack, lay limp in the wagon, scarcely stirring.
“Whom are we escorting?” Dong asked in a casual tone along the road.
“You weren’t at the Bian River battle,” one soldier replied softly. “He’s a mid-ranking officer from the central army — surname Zhong. During the fighting, when Deputy Commander Jin was closing in on Xu Zhengye, this man suddenly wounded him and helped the rebel escape.”
Dong’s fingers tightened on his reins.
So it was Zhong Si.
No wonder he hadn’t seen the man in camp lately — he hadn’t died honorably, but been exposed.
“Ah, Xu Zhengye’s inside man,” Dong said, glancing toward the carriage. “But Xu Zhengye is dead, and his comrades purged. Why send such a one to Xingyang instead of simply executing him?”
“General Xiao said the General Ningyuan ordered it personally. We only follow orders.”
“Indeed,” said another. “We obey.”
Dong nodded, saying no more — but inwardly he was calculating.
Zhong Si had been imprisoned for days, tortured until half-insensible. If the General Ningyuan intended some special questioning, the man might say more than he should.
Recalling what Li Yi had secretly told him before his death, Dong made up his mind.
“Dead?”
Back in Xingyang that morning, Chang Suining had only just returned when the escort arrived. They reported that the prisoner she wanted had died on the road.
“How did he die?” she asked, gazing down at the shrouded corpse.
A soldier knelt. “Reporting to the General Ningyuan — the man had been confined for long, eating and drinking little. He was frail, and the jolts of travel proved too much. He must have… perished from weakness.”
The rest dropped to their knees as well.
“It was our failure, General! Please punish us!”
“Truly died of weakness?” Chang Suining drew her sword and flicked away the cloth. The dead man’s face was pale, cheeks sunken. No new wounds were visible. Other than being dead, he looked unremarkable.
“We dare not deceive you!” said one soldier quickly. “If you doubt us, we can call a coroner to examine the body!”
Indeed, none of them had allowed strangers near during the journey.
“Summon a coroner, then…” she nodded lightly. “Though by the time the examination is done, half a day will be gone — half a day for the real culprit to flee.”
At that, all ten men went pale.
“General, we speak the truth!”
They thought her blade was leveled at them all — until they saw where it pointed.
The sword tip was aimed squarely at Deputy Commander Dong.
The men exchanged bewildered glances but dared not utter a sound. They withdrew at once.
“You suspect me?” Dong furrowed his brow. “If I killed him, why would I come here myself instead of escaping on the road?”
Chang Suining laughed softly. “Do you take me for a fool? When the prisoner dies, none of you would want sole blame. Naturally you all watched each other. How could you possibly have fled? Even with fine skill, you’re no match for ten men together.”
She rose slowly, voice calm and sharp as her sword. “By reason alone, all of you could be suspects. If I had never suspected you, I would not have known whom to look to. And even if the coroner proved he was murdered — without evidence, who could single you out?”
Her tone turned colder. “He was but a petty ninth-rank officer. You, however, are a sixth-rank Deputy Commander. Exchanging your life for his — a fair trade, wouldn’t you say? You were afraid he might speak of what he shouldn’t. So you chose to silence him yourself.”
At that single word — exchange — Dong’s eyes widened.
So she had seen through him all along!
She had been waiting for him to deliver himself into her trap.
Before he could think further, killing intent burst from his gaze. His hand struck his sword hilt; the blade leapt from its sheath with a metallic cry as he swung in a desperate strike.
But the girl before him was faster than he had imagined.
She did not dodge — knowing her strength was lesser — but met his blade head-on with both hands gripping her sword.
Steel rang against steel. Dong’s palms numbed from the impact; he stumbled back half a step.
In that instant she withdrew her sword, pivoted, and with a flying kick struck him square in the chest.
He grunted, staggered — turned to flee — but found the doorway blocked as guards poured in from both sides. His weapon was torn from his grip, and in moments he was forced back to his knees before her.
Still he struggled, snarling defiance.
Chang Suining, seated once more, sheathed her sword and said evenly, “Enough. Stop acting. You knew from the start that since I lured you here, I would never let you leave alive.”
“Then kill me!” Dong barked a harsh laugh. “My lord is dead — I’ve no reason to live!”
“Your lord? You mean Xu Zhengye?” she returned the laugh. “He took every sin onto himself for the true master behind you. If he knew, don’t you think he’d crawl from his grave in fury?”
Her eyes sharpened. “You and your kind never truly served Xu Zhengye. Guarding his escape was not loyalty — it was cover. Did you really think me so easy to fool? If I were, why would I have gone to such trouble to bring you here?”
The man’s expression twisted — fear, rage, disbelief all at once.
Chang Suining’s voice remained calm, almost conversational. “So. Stop acting.”
And the room fell utterly silent.
(End of Chapter 315)
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