Chapter 101: Wei Siyuan's Decision

The fierce, biting wind swept across the northern frontier, racing endlessly over the vast expanse of the Gobi. Each year at this time, the fiefdom of the Prince of Beichang would welcome its first heavy snowfall. The locals had a custom of calling this season the “Snow-Sealing Moon,” for the snow would fall continuously for half a month, blocking all roads and making any activity nearly impossible. During these days, every household would remain indoors, having already stocked up on provisions to weather the first snow of winter.

At the Beichang Prince’s manor, Prince Changwu, Chen Sinian, removed his brocade cloak with a laugh, greeting Wei Siyuan warmly. “Old Wei, it seems I’ll be staying at your estate a while longer. With this snow, there’s no way to travel.”

Wei Siyuan’s face brightened with genuine hospitality. “Not just a few days—you could stay for years and I’d be glad! It’s been too long since we two old friends have gathered.”

After a few words of pleasantry, the two entered the manor together. Prince Changwu, renowned for leading a hundred generals, would often tour the surrounding fiefs, drilling his officers and troops in battle formations. By chance, he had arrived in Wei Siyuan’s domain just as the snows sealed off the mountains, leaving him no choice but to stay.

No sooner had the two princes entered the drawing room than the manor steward approached, handing a letter to Wei Siyuan.

“Oh? A letter from the Prince of Pingyi?” Chen Sinian feigned indifference, casting a quick glance at the envelope in Wei Siyuan’s hand and deliberately reading out the name in jest.

Wei Siyuan smiled with composure, making no effort to conceal anything, and read the letter openly before Chen Sinian. Chen Sinian tossed his outer garment to a waiting attendant, signaled for his entourage to withdraw and rest, then picked up a teacup, all the while watching Wei Siyuan’s expression closely.

As Wei Siyuan read, he waved a hand to dismiss the servants, leaving only the old steward to await instructions. Moments later, having finished the letter, Wei Siyuan handed it directly to Chen Sinian before the latter could speak and turned to question the steward.

“Is the messenger who brought this still here?”

The old steward bowed and replied, “He is, awaiting your reply, my lord.”

Wei Siyuan chuckled, replying in jest, “Waiting for my reply? With the mountains sealed by snow, even if I did send a reply, what would he do—grow wings and fly out?”

With that, he burst into hearty laughter, while Chen Sinian, on the other hand, seemed grave, silently studying the letter from the Prince of Pingyi. After a moment’s thought, Wei Siyuan instructed the steward, “Very well, arrange quarters for him. Tell him there’s no need to worry; once the snow retreats, I’ll send him back with my reply.”

With another bow, the steward departed. Chen Sinian finished reading the letter and cast it into the fire in the center of the room, his brow furrowed in deep thought.

Wei Siyuan watched him calmly, an inscrutable smile at the corner of his lips, waiting for the other to speak first. Flickers of emotion crossed Chen Sinian’s eyes before he suddenly turned to Wei Siyuan and asked, “Old Wei, have you truly decided to go through with this?”

Wei Siyuan, confronted by Chen Sinian’s earnest gaze, could only shrug helplessly. Pouring himself a cup of tea, he sighed, “These days, it isn’t about what you or I wish to do—it’s fate.”

Handing another cup of tea to Chen Sinian, his words carried a deeper meaning. Chen Sinian said nothing, merely accepting the tea and following Wei Siyuan’s gaze to the gray, snow-laden sky outside the window.

Wei Siyuan continued in a gentle tone, “With such heavy snow across the land, who could possibly leave?”

Chen Sinian turned to observe the faint smile on Wei Siyuan’s profile, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. He realized that this old fox would not easily commit his troops; the endless snow was nothing but a convenient excuse.

“In weather like this, nothing beats a hot pot. Brother Chen, go and rest. I’ll have everything prepared—tonight, let us feast and drink our fill!”

Wei Siyuan locked eyes with Chen Sinian, smiling. Guided by servants, Chen Sinian withdrew to his guest chamber. Wei Siyuan remained, quietly watching his friend’s departure.

“My lord, shall I assign someone to watch the Prince of Changwu?” A shadowy figure appeared behind Wei Siyuan, voice hoarse—it was the mysterious man from before.

Wei Siyuan did not turn, merely shook his head, and replied softly, a smile still playing about his lips, “Prince Changwu’s martial prowess surpassed even the masters years ago. If you go, he’ll most likely notice. Besides, even if he wished to act now, he would be hard-pressed to defy fate. With snow like this, not even a saint could accomplish much.”

The mysterious figure said no more and melted back into the darkness.

Meanwhile, in Yanwu County, the magistrate Fang Yang and his counselor sat with furrowed brows, reading a letter from the Prince of Pingyi.

The letter instructed them to execute Feng Yewu and Lu Jue without delay. The counselor sighed softly, his gaze complex as he tested Fang Yang, “Sir, do you truly intend to kill them?”

In normal times, had they discovered that Feng Yewu and Lu Jue hailed from the Ministry of Justice, they would have had no qualms about moving against them. In the treacherous world of officials, letting those they had offended return to the capital was certain death sooner or later.

But now, matters were different. Yang Guang had revealed himself as an agent of Prince Changwu; the Prince of Pingyi was also urging them to act quickly. If either side wished to protect Feng Yewu and Lu Jue, Fang Yang and his counselor would be unafraid. But with both sides eager for the executions, the true meaning was all too clear.

Fang Yang, hearing the counselor’s question, could only force a bitter smile. “Both Prince Pingyi and Prince Changwu want the two of them dead. It’s clear that even if they’re not from the Ministry of Justice, they must be of no small importance. So many people know who they are, and with such authority. If I execute them, I’ll likely end up a scapegoat myself.”

The counselor felt somewhat reassured—so long as his superior did not lose his head and actually kill the two, there might yet be a chance for survival. Studying Fang Yang’s helpless expression, he thought for a moment and suggested, “Sir, for now we neither kill nor release them.”

Fang Yang rubbed his aching head and sighed, “Not kill them? What shall we tell the man sent by Prince Changwu? Prince Pingyi expects a letter once it’s done. If I don’t kill them, I might not live to see tomorrow.”

The counselor understood that the two had already become pawns in others’ schemes. He suggested, “Tomorrow is the Yin-Yang Day of the Eastern Barbarians, and we also have customs for sacrificing to spirits. Perhaps we can use this as an excuse?”

Fang Yang nodded with resignation. Any reason would do; he could hardly care about its plausibility now.

The Prince of Pingyi’s lands bordered the Eastern Barbarians, and when autumn turned to winter, the locals would pay respects to their ancestors and spirits, praying for a good harvest in the coming year.

In the icy dungeon, with frost in the air, Feng Yewu and Lu Jue both shivered uncontrollably.