Qinglian Chronicles

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Chapter status: Not proofread. Let me know if there’s any mistakes.]

I’d pulled an all-nighter, but still had to get up early. I’ve probably passed the age of being able to stay up late, because once my feet hit the ground I felt top-heavy and groggy. Even if I thought to catch up on sleep now, there’s no time to do so. There are too many things happening today that cannot wait.

After eating a breakfast that I could say spiked my blood sugar levels a bit, I have Xiao Lu help me put my clothes on properly — Hong Feng was in and out, wanting to inspect the kitchen’s food for poison and transferring her portion of the work of serving me over to him. He was very happy as a result, but generally speaking, his mood couldn’t be said to be great: his companion Xiao Zhu’s status was unknown, and Jinfeng was melancholic with little happiness all day long.

When I arrived in the inn’s dining hall, Zhou Zizhu was sitting tidy and upright, calmly drinking a strangely-colored congee cooked from millet and wheat bran that was so watery, the bottom of the bowl could be seen. Seeing me, he raised his head and smiled, greeting with words, “Did you sleep well, Brother… Sir Zhang?”

I sit down listlessly, rubbing my temples as I speak. “Brother Zhou can call me Qinglian…”

Zhou Zizhu mumbled and I just started to regret my being excessively casual. The rules of address are deeply known; we are still of hostile political factions and our relationship isn’t that close, and randomly letting people call one by their first name is phenomenally bad. Speaking of that, Zhang Qinglian doesn’t have a courtesy. It doesn’t seem like every intellectual in this ancient country has one, but there’s still lots of people who do.

Just as I regretted it, Zhou Zizhu seems to realize it, too, and put on a smile. “So overturning.” The he spoke with concern, “Did you not rest well, Qinglian?”

I nod, remember something, then ask, “Brother Zizhu, why is your companion not here?”

“Oh, he went to go watch the horses.”

I recall that after coming to Xinyang, Zhou Zizhu and the rest seemed to be somewhat relaxed and fearless of more assassinations. What’s the ultimate reason for this? And do they know something?

I thusly ask him, “Could the number of assassins from before be on your mind?”

He looks at me, a faint smile emerging. “You don’t need to worry about with Ah-San here.”

I can clearly see that he doesn’t want to talk about anything regarding him and say no more about it. The topic is pulled to the situation of the refugees outside and how much congee was consumed yesterday, until someone put a bowl of the same strange congee in front of me. Having thankfully toughened up my flexibility, I pinch my nose and pour it down, my stomach feeling unwell after drinking it.

Zhou Zizhu tilted his head. “Is it hard to drink?”

I smile.

“This is the congee rations. Is it alright for us to drink this while we’re here?” His voice is mild, but he looks rather determined.

I nod.

He smiled in relief, as if very pleased. Though I don’t oppose his creativity, I feel a headache coming.

Refugees are everywhere; surrounding the street, under the eaves, on the ground, and atop steps in the damp mud, their clothes ragged and singing increasingly-fervent odes to Prince Liang’s work, which I don’t need to say more about. By good fortune, not having to see more people dying of hunger after entering the city makes me not too uncomfortable about it.

Several offices servants then ran up before us, saying that Mister Governor had invited us to his residence for lunch, and that the Central South Governor General, Sir Lu Liang, would be there.

We’d been waiting for this. I exchange a look with Zhou Zizhu, then nodded imperceptibly, having those servants lead the way in front. Upon seeing that we were headed to find a pair of sedan chairs, Zhou Zizhu forcefully rejected them. It seems this brother has made up his mind to hereupon establish his reputation as a famed official. Of course, it also can’t be ruled out that the born-pampered, raised-spoiled, grown-up Young Master Zhou’s conscience wasn’t provoked by the misery of the refugees.

It’s not a far walk at all to the governor’s residence, but for some reason my legs are kind of weak, and with the big sun coming out I start to sweat. Things look a bit fuzzy, and I can only prop myself up by sheer will.

The governor is as fawning on me as he was before, and appears respectful but is actually haughty towards Zhou Zizhu, as this person who is slightly higher in rank than a passerby is unworthy of wasting his brush and ink on. His Highness Prince Liang doesn’t show his face; his Wei Guanliu came out once, apologizing that Prince Liang’s heath has gotten worse and he can’t see guests today. His attitude is as polite and at ease as before, not a drop of water leaking out. Recalling the young and silent bodyguard at Prince Liang’s side yesterday, I had a bit of a wish to see him for no real reason.

That long-heard-about, loyalty-status-unknown Lu Liang finally came after a while of waiting. Vigor rises within me as I watch the entrance with Zhou Zizhu.

Who we saw come in was a short-statured, dark-complexioned man in his 30s to 40s with a mole between his brows. His face is solemn and clothes lack luxury, but he’s very clean, giving the appearance of an upright and somewhat righteous fellow.

His pace is vigorous with very large steps, not to an official’s style. He bows to us, cupping his fist in greeting. “This humble worker greets Sir Zhou, Sir Zhang.” There isn’t any difference to be seen in the way he greets Zhou Zizhu and I.

Zhou Zizhu’s face gets serious and he moves his chin in what could be called a greeting, his attitude very cold. I smile lightly towards him.

This person looks very unlike Zhang Qinglian’s group, which is to say that he looks very unlike a treacherous official. A traitor won’t engrave that word on his forehead, though, so I’ll hold back my opinion first.

Mister Governor rubs his hands and smiles. “Sir Lu, thank you for your trouble, thank you.” He then says to us, “Sir Lu was born of a military background and has been promoted by collecting merits bit by bit until now. He is greatly just and strictly impartial. Us people here are in awe of him.”

I’ve determined that has only had the fate of a passer-by in this lifetime. Zhou Zizhu and I are juniors of higher rank; he praises this one to offend the two more important ones. He really has no future prospects.

Or… does he feel that Lu Liang is more important than us?

Seeing that everyone’s together, Mister Governor orders a feast to be made, with unexpectedly luxurious dishes and fine utensils that aren’t the slightest bit inferior to those in the capital, and in addition he called for courtesans to come put on a show of singing and dancing, silk and bamboo at the ready.

I secretly shake my head, not even moving my chopsticks. As expected, Zhou Zizhu looked icy as he spoke, “This official has already decided that what the victims outside will be eating today is all that he will also be eating.” He was born with a face inclined towards being gentle and handsome, but his expression is heavy and has a bit of an official’s prestige. I’m not opposing what he’s doing at all, as it’s not a formal method and has some usefulness in hindering these corrupt officials. Furthermore, even if showcasing his standpoint now will make it easier to get enemies, granted that he lives long enough to become a grandfather, he’ll have more pretty words to leave on bamboo slips. Is that not how scholars in the political system have been since time immemorial?

I haven’t had time to show my support for this standpoint when Lu Liang has already shouted in accordance, “What Sir Zhou says goes! How could this humble one dare disobey?” He waves his hand to order a maid to dispose of the dishes in front of him.

I ended up being the last one apart from the unlucky host to state their standing, and I nod. “The same is true for this official, too.” Yet, because of my unwellness, my voice is feeble, and very suspiciously like I’m going along with the crowd. I can already predict that in future history books, my anecdote will be an official subdued by Sir Zhou’s righteousness and had no choice but to reluctantly oblige this so-and-so.

The unlucky governor’s face went dark, and he could only say, “This lowly official is ignorant, and ashamed.” He motioned for the singers and dancers to withdraw, had the maids and servant children noiselessly clear away the dishes that hadn’t been touched, and a short moment later four bowls of the same strange-looking, watery congee were carried in. Thinking about how those dishes would be dealt with, I gulp down the congee with rapid speed with the other three important guests. I don’t know if it’s because food has a big influence on people or what, but everyone’s faces quickly changed as they drank the same weird soup.

Finishing the meal, I figured I should bring up the main topic. Yet I hadn’t even opened my mouth to speak when Lu Liang suddenly got up from his seat, and came to kneel before us, back straight like a fallen jade pillar, voice clear. “This humble one has sinned, and the sin can’t be forgiven. Please punish me, Sirs.”

I startle, and my tone matches that. “What are you talking about, Sir Lu?”

Lu Liang’s powerful voice resounds throughout. “Provincial Governor Guo’s conduct is dishonorable, his thoughts treacherous. He’s fond of bizarre skill and queer opportunities. Sometimes he will repair dams, sometimes build bridges, and often forcing the citizens into labor or taxing them, going to higher-ups to demand money and food. This humble one is consequently very prejudiced towards him. During this flood, this humble one’s jurisdiction did not suffer much calamity, and upon seeing Governor Guo’s grandiose words, he had believed that it was a pretext as before in order to withdraw more money and food from the country treasury, whereupon he didn’t investigate properly and accused Governor Guo of misconduct. Coming here today to see all this, with hungry people lining the streets, this humble one has made an enormous mistake. As such a huge mistake has been made, he requests that you Sirs punish him.” Saying that, he took off his black official’s hat and put it on the ground.

I’m stupefied hearing this. This Lu Liang is really remarkable. His statement is reasonable and fair, not too subservient or overbearing yet still eloquent, still not forgetting to belittle Guo Zhengtong in all aspects while raising himself up and passing the blame, yet giving a very real feeling of leaning towards being bold enough to shoulder the responsibility. If this is all pretend and his skill of projecting humility, then it seems like true righteousness is simply something I’ll have to take on.

How could his authenticity be seen in just this moment?

Just as I was struggling, there came a small commotion from outside, and someone reported with difficulty, “The Provincial Governor of Xinyang, Guo Zhengtong… is…” Then a person pushed away the obstacle and strode in.

One look and I’m subconsciously staring. This person has a sharp nose and thin cheeks, his face dark and lean, bones sticking out, and though his steps are big, it was devoid of elegance. Since I’ve come to this world, and with all the ministers I’ve come across, this gentleman right here is the most ugly, the most unlike a good person, and doubly most unlike a minister.

Is this… the Qingliu’s Guo Zhengtong?

If it is, then it’s no wonder that despite he and Zhou Zizhu being the same age, he’s currently still a governor in a very minor remote area.

The one who bust into the governor’s family home had his official’s robes askew, and I could see stains on his cuffs, which is very unfitting. He also didn’t bother with etiquette when he came in, pouncing on the kneeling Lu Liang. “You bastard! How many of my orders have you delayed?! If it weren’t for you…” His hissing voice is offensive to the ears.

Lu Liang is apparently a lot sturdier than him, as he grabs him by the lapels and berates, “Monkey Guo! Do you not have any face?!” He pushed him hard and Guo Zhengtong struggled as he was thrown down, rolling on the ground.

Watching these two high-bred officials in a stately area scuffling and cursing like hoodlums, practically hitting and rolling about on the ground, is something I’m simply unable to believe I’m seeing for a moment. Coming back to my senses, I’m suddenly so furious that I stand with a slap on the table, reprimanding, “You two, stop immediately! What… lack of decorum is this?!” I was halfway through my anger when my chest suddenly stuffed up and my voice lost volume, the world suddenly spinning and my body swaying.

Zhou Zizhu hurriedly stands up and calls out, “Brother Guo, stop!” He didn’t notice my movements, and in a moment I was about to fall, when a hand suddenly steadied and held me up from behind.

I struggled to turn my head to look to see that expressionless young bodyguard of Prince Liang’s who was called Xiao Tu or something. I don’t when he’d arrived.

His face was still rigidly funereal as he swept his gaze across me, his voice flat as he spoke. “His Highness woke at noon. He ordered me to invite Sir Zhou to play go.” He slowly helped me sit down.

I’ve been feeling very unwell today, with symptoms like anemia and wanting to faint, a stuffy chest, impeded breathing, and an uncomfortable stomach; I’m afraid I’m really sick. Fortunately, this person came in time and happened to help me, exempting me from shamefully fainting in front of everyone.

I shut my eyes, wanting to take a slow, deep breath. The two finally stopped quarreling, everyone looking at me.

The weird bodyguard detained my wrist as if he was checking my pulse, and said a long time later, “Sir Zhang’s body is too empty. He hasn’t had a good diet or rest recently. I’ll ask the Governor to had people tidy up a room and let Sir Zhang recover.”

The Governor promptly gave several orders to people to do so.

I had nearly gone limp on the chair. My heartbeat was exceptionally clear, the cold sweat on my forehead seeping out drip by drip. Looking at his three slender fingers latched onto my wrist, my chest was stuffed up with the need to throw up.

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