Volume One: Carefree Journey Amid Indistinguishable Paper Leaves Chapter Forty-One: The Widow

Yang Ning knew that Duan Canghai came from a military background—the man's soldierly aura was unmistakable. The same could be said for Qi Feng and Zhao Wushang; Yang Ning could discern the shadow of the army in them as well.

But what surprised him was that all three hailed from the Black Qilin Battalion and had served under Third Master.

“Third Master and the General were both sons of the Old Marquess,” Duan Canghai reflected. “When Third Master was still young, he, like the General, followed the Old Marquess to battlefields across the land. If not for that incident… alas, were it not for that, Third Master would surely be a renowned general, famed throughout the world.”

Hearing this, Yang Ning gained a rough understanding of the relationships within the Brocade Marquess Mansion. “Did you all return to the capital after that campaign?” he asked.

“After the battle between Black Qilin Battalion and the Blood Orchid Army, only a few dozen survived,” Duan Canghai said with a bitter smile. “But the General always acted with foresight. When our Black Qilin Battalion was nearly wiped out, reinforcements arrived, and the Blood Orchid Army was at the end of their rope, unable to fight on, fleeing in defeat. That’s how we managed to survive.”

Yang Ning said, “Although your Black Qilin Battalion was nearly annihilated, after the battle, the Northern Han’s Blood Orchid Army was rendered powerless. That’s why the two counties north of the Huai River remained safe.”

Duan Canghai looked surprised, then nodded. “You truly are the son of a general—grasping the crux of the matter at once.” He raised his chin slightly. “You’re right. Though the Black Qilin Battalion ceased to exist, the Blood Orchid Army painstakingly built up by the Marquess of Changling suffered devastating losses, and could no longer threaten us.” He paused before continuing, “The General petitioned the court to reward the survivors from the Black Qilin Battalion. Most were given posts across the land, but a few of us remained.”

“Oh?” Yang Ning asked curiously. “Why did you stay? You could have taken official posts, yet you chose to remain as guards?”

Duan Canghai spoke earnestly, “We fought alongside Third Master on many battlefields—he saved us from heaps of corpses time and again. Then and there, we vowed to follow him unto death, with no other ambition.” He sighed, “After Third Master died, we intended to follow him into the next world, but the General persuaded us otherwise. He said since we had no desire for official rank, we could serve as guards in the Marquess Mansion, protecting both the household and the Third Madam.”

Yang Ning nodded slightly. He thought, these men refused official posts to become mansion guards—true men of loyalty and honor. Their willingness to serve in the mansion was more for Third Master’s sake than for the Brocade Marquess himself. After all, Third Master’s widow still lived; perhaps they wished to protect the Third Madam as a way to repay Third Master.

No wonder the Third Madam held such authority in the mansion. As Third Master’s principal wife, her position was naturally exceptional. It was a pity that such a lovely woman had spent so many years in widowhood.

Duan Canghai, evidently loosened by drink, grew talkative. Yang Ning’s questions touched upon both his pride and his sorrow, so he poured out the tales of the past without reservation.

The sun set, and night fully enveloped the mansion. Everywhere, white lanterns bearing the character for “memorial” were lit.

“You mentioned earlier that my father died from his wounds—what happened?” Yang Ning asked. “Were they very grave?”

“The General spent years on the battlefield, bearing countless wounds,” Duan Canghai replied. “The Brocade Marquess line always earned glory through true skill on the field—Old Marquess, General, Third Master alike. Scars are marks of honor for the Qi men. The General had returned to the capital to recuperate, but three years ago, the Northern Han amassed an army of over a hundred thousand and invaded suddenly. The General had no choice but to leave the capital. That campaign lasted nearly three years—he held the front lines all that time.” His eyes reddened. “We all knew his health was failing, worsening day by day. Old wounds and new, the pain was unbearable. But the General understood that if he fell, Great Chu would be in peril, so he hid his suffering…”

Yang Ning’s expression showed respect. He thought, Qi Jing was truly a man of iron.

“Just a few months ago, the two sides finally reached an armistice; the Northern Han withdrew their troops and halted the war.” Duan Canghai gave a bitter smile. “Honestly, I don’t know why they withdrew or what terms were agreed upon. I was just hoping that once the fighting stopped, the General could return to rest and slowly recover. But who could have foreseen… the General died for Great Chu—worked himself to death.”

Yang Ning thought, so the Brocade Marquess was a hero who died from exhaustion. Duan Canghai had already risen. “My lord, it’s dark now. We should go. You’ve returned, and today the Third Madam fought hard for you with the elders. You must not disappoint her.”

Yang Ning knew he had delayed long enough in conversation—his father’s passing called for proper decorum, especially as heir.

As they headed toward the mourning hall, Yang Ning asked, “Uncle Duan, are there many security agencies in the capital?”

“Security agencies?” Duan Canghai was startled by the sudden question. “Why do you ask, my lord?”

Yang Ning had prepared his answer. “When I was taken by those men, I heard them mention security agencies while I was tied in a sack.”

Duan Canghai stopped, his expression turning grave. He glanced around before whispering, “You heard them mention security agencies? Are there Nine Heavens Tower agents hiding within one?”

Yang Ning replied, “I don’t know the details. Their voices were low, but I heard them mention a leading agency in the capital. Uncle Duan, which ones are the most prominent?”

“There are quite a few, but three stand out.” Duan Canghai thought for a moment. “Changping Security Agency, Four Seas Security Agency, and Rising Sun Security Agency are the strongest. Did you hear them mention any of these?”

Yang Ning shook his head, feeling a surge of excitement. Duan Canghai clearly knew the capital’s workings like the back of his hand.

He had already encountered the Four Seas Security Agency; he’d seen their convoy at a tavern, and it was there he met Xiao Guang, who was fleeing the deadly pursuit of the Flying Cicada assassins.

“Planting spies within a security agency is a clever tactic,” Duan Canghai mused, stroking his coarse beard. “But this isn’t something our mansion can handle. I’ll inform the Divine Marquess Mansion and let them investigate. Those three agencies aren’t easy to deal with, and we have our hands full. Best leave it to them.”

“Divine Marquess Mansion?” Yang Ning asked. “What is that place?”

Duan Canghai looked a bit embarrassed. This heir—if you called him muddle-headed, his speech today was clear and logical; not a trace of confusion. Yet he didn’t seem especially clever, either.

He was about to explain when a voice called out, “Brother Duan, are you here? Have you seen the Third Madam?”

Yang Ning turned to see Chief Steward Qiu, plump and genial, approaching.

“Chief Steward Qiu!” Duan Canghai greeted him. “You’re looking for the Third Madam?”

“Yes,” Chief Steward Qiu replied, his round, kindly face smiling. His small eyes glanced at Yang Ning. “My lord, you’ve had a long day. Later tonight, you can leave the mourning hall for a proper rest. I’ve spoken to Aunt Qiong’s side; tonight, let Qi Yu keep vigil. Once dawn breaks, it’ll be your turn.”

“Oh?” Although Yang Ning still couldn’t quite gauge Chief Steward Qiu’s character, for some reason, he felt an instinctive aversion. He smiled, “Is Qi Yu competing with me for this?”

Yang Ning understood that Duan Canghai, for all his care, was straightforward and easy to deal with. Chief Steward Qiu, however, was the very image of scheming—a difficult opponent. In his presence, Yang Ning knew to be cautious, lest his words betray him and invite trouble.

Yang Ning believed that so far, no one in the mansion suspected his identity, but if he grew careless, flaws might accumulate and arouse suspicion.

“My lord jests,” Chief Steward Qiu replied with a laugh. “You are the heir of the mansion—how could Qi Yu compete with you? Though he’s a concubine’s son, he’s still the Marquess’s blood. He wasn’t allowed to be seen during the day, but tonight he should fulfill his filial duties, and most importantly, keep vigil for you so you can recuperate. There’s much to be done ahead; if you don’t rest, your energy will surely fail.”

Yang Ning actually had no strong opinion about competing for filial display. His outburst in the mourning hall earlier was mainly because he couldn’t stand the crowd ganging up on Gu Qinghan. If Qi Yu kept watch tonight in his stead, Yang Ning had no objection.

“Brother Duan, don’t take today’s events to heart,” Chief Steward Qiu said, turning to Duan Canghai. “We both know Fifth Master’s temperament—impulsive as always. I just spoke to the elders; they agreed Fifth Master shouldn’t have treated you that way.”

Duan Canghai responded lightly, “You overthink, Chief Steward Qiu. I paid no mind—servants don’t fuss with their masters.”

Chief Steward Qiu laughed, “That’s a bit sharp. But I know you, Brother Duan—broad-minded. By tomorrow morning, you’ll have forgotten it all. As chief steward, I must always keep the bigger picture in mind. It’s only right that the heir keeps vigil, but we must also consider the elders. Once things settle, everything can be discussed, but for now, harmony in the Qi family is our priority—don’t you agree?”

Duan Canghai replied, “Chief Steward Qiu, I’m but a soldier who only knows how to protect the mansion. The rest isn’t for me to ask or even understand. Whatever the Third Madam says must be right. You and she can decide what’s best for the family; when needed, a single word from her is enough.”

“Who says you don’t know how to see the bigger picture?” came a crisp, melodious voice from behind Yang Ning. “You endured the slights in the mourning hall without losing your head—that’s thinking of the greater good, isn’t it?”

Yang Ning turned to see Gu Qinghan drifting toward them like a white cloud—graceful, delicate, and alluring.