Chapter 193: My Younger Brother Shall Be Yao and Shun

Wang Yan looked at Sun Fugui's smug expression and immediately knew it was Zhou Miaotong he'd brought back.

"Go see…" He stood up at once: "Any trouble on the way?"

"The brothers who came back said a Embroidered Uniform Guard captain followed us for a stretch, but didn't move against us—no one knows what he was thinking. I reckon he's got some business with Zhou Miaotong," Sun Fugui trailed behind Wang Yan: "Still, my lord, you've got sharp eyes—she really is good-looking. I remember you've never been to Jingcheng—where did you even hear of her?"

He spoke of the Embroidered Uniform Guard without any respect—not just because his own men were present, but because today's Embroidered Uniform Guard were nothing like they once were, long since lost the power to terrify people into sleepless nights with just their name.

Now it was the Eastern Depot that held the power; the Embroidered Uniform Guard were merely their lapdogs. After all, the Embroidered Uniform Guard Regional Commander was Wei Zhongxian's subordinate—everyone in the realm knew that in Great Ming, besides the Emperor, only the Nine-Thousand-Year-Old was supreme.

"I can divine the future, foresee five hundred years ahead—this is barely the beginning," Wang Yan lied casually: "Sun, you've got a long way to go."

Sun Fugui chuckled but said nothing, assuming this young general was just a brat blowing hot air. As for how he'd heard of this woman—it was just idle curiosity, utterly unimportant.

The drill ground was still some distance from the general's residence; along the way, Sun Fugui chattered about recent developments.

Supplies had been fully inventoried; by their standards, after deducting funds for the covert agents' infrastructure, they could only support a little over ten thousand men—nowhere near the full strength of twenty thousand. And that didn't even count other expenses: training reserve military households, increasing expenditures on elite frontline troops, upgrading armor and weapons, developing and applying steam engines, smelting, manufacturing and deploying matchlock guns—all of it was money being poured down a bottomless pit.

Of course, General Wang had always thought ahead—he'd anticipated this situation long ago and already had a plan. For Jinzhou to develop now, there were only two things: population and productive technology.

He had the technology—plenty of it—but what he lacked was population. Right now, Jinzhou had nothing but soldiers and military households; there were virtually no civilian households. With a large civilian population came labor, a market, and with a market came wealth—and with wealth, he could upgrade his technology, and then he'd have machine guns and cannons blasting away…

As for population, the problem wasn't serious. Great Ming had too many people dying of starvation, freezing, poverty, or abuse—let alone the hundreds of thousands of Han civilians across the border waiting for him to rescue them. He'd just finished sorting out Jinzhou thoroughly—population should arrive soon.

As they spoke, they reached the general's residence. When they entered the back courtyard, Sun Fugui stopped: "My lord, I won't go in. I bought the maidservants who served her, and also picked up a few young girls from the slave dealer to attend to your daily needs."

Wang Yan stared at Sun Fugui in surprise: "These men of yours are sharp—reward them ten taels of silver when you get back." He hadn't expected such thoughtful consideration from a bunch of rough, battle-hardened brutes.

Sun Fugui beamed, fawning: "All thanks to your lordship's excellent cultivation, haha…"

"You can say that," Wang Yan laughed: "Alright, don't bother me unless it's urgent—I'm busy today."

"Understood, understood—my lord, please attend to your duties."

"Get lost."

He gave Sun Fugui a mock kick, then waved cheerfully and stepped into the back courtyard.

"My lord."

Several girls, aged thirteen or fourteen, already trained in proper etiquette, curtsied as Wang Yan entered.

"Hmm, rise," Wang Yan nodded: "Is she inside?"

"Reporting, my lord—Miss Zhou has just bathed and is now dressing and grooming herself," said another girl, stepping out as the closed door opened: "Please wait a moment—Miss Zhou will pay her respects once she's finished."

Is this some lingering prostitute habit? Did they think she was some top courtesan?

But to be fair, the women in the Imperial Music Bureau were different from those in ordinary brothels. Those in the Music Bureau were mostly proper daughters of noble families; the top courtesans in brothels were mostly trained from childhood by professionals—mere tools. Different nature, entirely different things.

Wang Yan shook his head with a smile, didn't indulge in such nonsense, and walked straight inside: "Close the door."

"My lord, you can't go in, my lord—"

Stopped at the threshold, Wang Yan looked coldly at the girl: "I said close the door. Do you understand?"

Seeing his emotionless eyes and recalling what the soldiers had told him on the way, the girl shuddered violently. Even if her indenture wasn't in his hands, he could crush a lowly personal maid like her without effort.

"Ah… yes… yes, my lord."

The girl quickly bowed her head and stepped aside, clearing the doorway.

Having frightened the child, Wang Yan walked in without saying another word.

Zhou Miaotong had heard the commotion and, seeing Wang Yan appear, immediately bowed gracefully: "Miaotong greets my lord. Xiaoqiu is young and ignorant—she offended you. I beg your pardon on her behalf—please do not be angered."

As she spoke, she stole glances at the unremarkable-looking boy before her—hard to reconcile him with the legendary battlefield general famed for invincibility.

She couldn't imagine how a frontier garrison general could even know of her, let alone redeem her and bring her all the way to Liaodong.

Though military reputations had faded, generals like Wang Yan—who'd won battles for the nation—had still gained some fame, especially with court encouragement. Wang Yan was young, and his achievements made his story even more legendary. Zhou Miaotong, immersed in the gossip of her former world, had heard many rumors—it wasn't surprising she knew of him.

"Hmm, rise," Wang Yan nodded: "Are you settling in well? If you need anything, just tell the guards outside."

In the film, Zhou Miaotong had been all fake delicacy and theatrical fainting; now, in reality, she was far more tolerable—clearly a fragile, helpless woman, victimized by fate, utterly alone. Of course, in one sentence: still a dying act. But compared to the film, she was two entirely different kinds of dying.

"Thank you, my lord—everything is fine."

"Good. Listen up," Wang Yan said: "I only ask you to behave. I don't have many rules. Right now, you're the only woman here—do whatever you like."

"Though Jinzhou can't compare to Jingcheng, it has its own charm. You don't need to stay cooped up in this residence—go out with your maids, stroll around. The city and its outskirts are safe—there are no ruffians who dare harass people in broad daylight."

"Do you have anything else to say?"

Zhou Miaotong, seasoned in the red dust, knew exactly what came next. She shook her head, voice soft: "I beg your lordship's mercy…"

Without another word, Wang Yan picked her up and carried her to the bed behind.

This was still a man's world—women survived through men. What Zhou Miaotong thought didn't matter; she was here, and she hadn't tried to kill herself—already said enough.

What about that Yan Young Master, whose hand Shen Lian had chopped off? Four words: utterly heartless. Perhaps in Zhou Miaotong's heart, there was no room for such things—whoever rescued her from that daily brothel, who gave her a life, was her ideal husband…

All that dying act? Just helplessness against fate. Maybe also professional—after all, it stirred men's natural protective instincts…

Just like today, ancient times had quotas and performance targets—often harsher. So any courtesan who rose to the top—top courtesan, famed beauty—knew how to manipulate men. Manipulating women? Even more so—think of the place, and you know.

The next day, Wang Yan sat refreshed in the city's administrative office.

After over a year of restraint, the release was pure bliss. Zhou Miaotong needed real rest—even if she could handle it, the gun was too powerful…

Sun Fugui grinned and sidled up: "My lord, how was it?"

"Incredible," Wang Yan laughed, turning to the junior official in charge of finances: "Old Zhang, note this down—deduct one month's share from Sun."

Old Zhang burst out laughing at Sun Fugui's stiff face: "Yes, my lord."

Sun Fugui wanted to explain, but his intent had been to tease Wang Yan. He knew if he spoke again, he'd lose two months' share. He shot a furious glance at Old Zhang, then sat down quietly.

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"Is there anyone else here who cares about how I feel?"

"My lord, we only ask because we care for you," the man quickly waved his hands as Wang Yan looked over: "No, no—absolutely no concern…"

Wang Yan scanned the room; everyone sat upright, properly composed. He nodded in satisfaction: "Alright, let's get to business."

"My lord, the population count is complete," the civil official bowed: "The city now has soldiers…"

Following this, a group including Sun Fugui reported various statistics on Jinzhou City.

The most important things were the number of soldiers and civilians, and how much money there was. The financial and material situation had already been reported by Sun Fugui yesterday. The five thousand or so who came with him, plus the families of the military households—wives, children, and all—came to less than ten thousand. The city originally had over fourteen thousand troops, and the military households and their families numbered about fifteen thousand. Altogether, the population of this vast Jinzhou city did not reach forty thousand.

Of these, the only true combat-ready soldiers were the thousand or so who had fought with him to the very end; the rest of the core forces had been virtually wiped out. So for the short term, it was impossible to launch any offensive—there needed to be at least three thousand capable troops before any action could be taken.

The immediate priority now was to secure money and carry out construction.

Wang Yan revised his plans according to the situation and reassigned the tasks; that took up the entire morning.

Development and construction could not be rushed. Besides, rushing would do no good. He could not conjure people, silver, or equipment out of thin air—he could only advance step by step, steadily and firmly.

When the others had dispersed, Wang An walked over and said: "My lord, we've learned everything about Bei Zhai."

"Mm." Wang Yan nodded, signaling him to continue.

"She lives outside Jingcheng. Her guard force is decent—several of them look like they came from the frontier troops. But they don't always guard her; sometimes she's only accompanied by a few people of average strength."

Wang An mused: "While our men were tailing her, we discovered she has ties to Prince Xin, Zhu Youjian. Our men also noticed that those guards had suspicious movements and had met secretly with Prince Xin. The Emperor is now bedridden, no one knows his condition, and the calls for Prince Xin to succeed the throne are growing loud… My lord, I think we should avoid this woman entirely—she's too dangerous…"

"Were we not discovered?"

He wasn't trying to dampen morale—he knew exactly how capable these men were. Had they really tracked all the way to Zhu Youjian's doorstep?

"No," Wang An shook his head. "Following your orders, our main target was investigating Bei Zhai. The connection to Prince Xin was discovered accidentally. Our men were careful—once they identified Prince Xin, they stopped following."

Wang Yan nodded, said nothing, and began tapping his fingers on the table in thought…

………

Two months later, in the mountains thirty li outside Jingcheng.

Zhou Miaoxuan, carrying a pack, ran across the suspension bridge and plunged straight into the deep forest.

After running for a while, she heard the clashing of swords and knives behind her. Thinking of the man who had risked his life to make her escape, she suddenly stopped.

Breathless from the sprint, she stood still for a moment. Then, for reasons unknown, she turned around and started running back.

Suddenly, a voice rang out from the woods: "Wait."

Zhou Miaoxuan froze, pacing nervously in circles: "Who's there?"

Before her words faded, five or six men in leather armor, faces covered, swords in hand, surrounded her.

One stepped forward two paces and bowed politely: "Miss, don't be alarmed. May I ask—are you Master Bei Zhai, Zhou Miaoxuan?"

Zhou Miaoxuan eyed them warily: "I am. Who are you? What do you want?"

She couldn't help wondering—were these men sent by him? Had he sent someone to find her?

"Miss, don't panic. We're here to save you." As he spoke, the man stepped closer and reached for her: "This place is unsafe. Come with us."

"Let go of me! Where are you taking me? … Mmmph… Mmmph…"

While Zhou Miaoxuan screamed, the others rushed forward, swiftly bound her hands and feet, and stuffed a cloth into her mouth.

"Hurry, to the rendezvous point—wait for them."

The leader glanced at Zhou Miaoxuan, tightly bound and struggling fiercely, then ordered his men to hoist her onto a horse. The six riders mounted and galloped away swiftly, vanishing from sight.

Beyond the grass, through the trees, on the other side of the suspension bridge, Lu Wenzhao, Shen Lian, and others hid behind rocks. In the distance, a group of Embroidered Uniform Guard soldiers, accompanied by troops from the Capital Garrison, fired muskets and loosed arrows…

Lu Wenzhao, clutching his abdomen where blood poured unremittingly, gritted his teeth and looked at the white-robed woman beside him: "Sister, how could this happen?"

"Brother, don't you understand yet?" Ding Baiying gazed tenderly at the man before her. "To the Prince, you and I are both flaws."

Lu Wenzhao wasn't blind—he just refused to believe it. What had he lived for all these years? To live as a man of dignity. And now? In the end, he would die as a ghost.

"Shen Lian, we're both doomed in this bloodbath…"

With all his strength, Lu Wenzhao shouted, locking eyes with Ding Baiying—his beloved woman, whom he had loved for so many years…

He reached out gently, brushing his fingers against her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin. This was the first and last time he had ever touched her.

Lu Wenzhao withdrew his hand at once, rose with his sword, and walked to the path opposite. No sooner had he taken his stance than soldiers from the Capital Garrison fired a volley—direct hit.

Ding Baiying stared, stunned, at the staggering figure, calling out helplessly: "Brother…"

The Capital Garrison soldiers paid no heed to such useless sentiment. They surged forward in groups, slashing twice more into Lu Wenzhao's body.

Seeing Lu Wenzhao fall, Ding Baiying flew out in fury, snatched up the specially crafted Miao knife from the ground, and charged alone against a thousand soldiers…

Then, sudden chaos—thunderous sounds, distinct from musket fire, erupted. A group of hidden Capital Garrison troops on the slope collapsed instantly. The unlucky ones clutched their wounds and screamed; the luckier ones died on the spot, spared further suffering.

Before the Capital Garrison troops could react, a series of deafening explosions followed. A clear gap opened in the advancing ranks before Ding Baiying.

"Enemy! Enemy!"

Now they realized—some sought cover, some turned and fled. Most, however, turned and ran—especially Xu Xianchun, the Deputy Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard and Wei Zhongxian's loyal lackey. His first instinct was to flee—his face bore none of his usual haughty composure.

Before they could organize any counterattack, hundreds of masked men charged down the hill—some firing crossbow bolts tipped with explosives, others firing muskets. In moments, half the enemy lay dead; the rest fled. Only the groans of the wounded remained, and silence fell.

These men paid no attention to Shen Lian, Ding Baiying, and the others standing guard in a tight group. Instead, they moved with practiced efficiency—finishing off the wounded, granting mercy. Their skill made Shen Lian and the others blink in shock.

These were no ordinary Capital Garrison troops. Not just their superior equipment, but the seamless coordination during their downhill charge, the silent, decisive efficiency—no wasted words, only the grunt of a blade's swing—proved they were a disciplined, fearsome force.

They were all martial experts, seasoned killers. The few hundred silently finishing off the wounded? Clearly not to be trifled with.

Soon, they reached the trio. Hundreds surrounded them.

Shen Lian exchanged glances with Pei Lun and Ding Baiying, then stepped forward and bowed: "I am Shen Lian. Thank you, sirs, for your aid. May I ask—why did you save us three?"

No one answered. From the ranks stepped a leader who pulled several portraits from inside his battle armor and compared them to the faces before him: "Pei Lun, Ding Baiying—these two." He pointed to each in turn.

No sooner had he spoken than men behind Pei Lun and Ding Baiying surged forward, binding them without a word. At close range, with so many attacking at once, Pei Lun and Ding Baiying's martial skill was insufficient—they barely raised their weapons before they were disarmed.

Shen Lian stared, bewildered, at the men—and at Pei Lun and Ding Baiying, struggling helplessly in their bonds—unable to act.

To save them? There were too many—he couldn't fight them all. To do nothing? He couldn't abandon comrades who had fought beside him. To flee? Impossible—their blades were already at his throat.

Once the bindings were confirmed secure, the leader stepped forward and patted Shen Lian's shoulder: "We saved your life. If you're captured later, I hope you won't speak."

Then he shouted: "Withdraw!"

In an instant, hundreds vanished into the forest, gone.

Shen Lian stared, stunned, at the men who had come swiftly—and left even faster. He didn't know where they came from, why they'd saved them, why they'd taken Pei Lun and Ding Baiying, and why they'd left him behind.

After a moment, he gave up. He had something more important to do. He picked up his sword, found his old crossbow, and walked toward the suspension bridge…

Meanwhile, in the Purple Forbidden City, before Wei Zhongxian and several senior cabinet ministers, Zhu Youxiao gripped Zhu Youjian's hand and, with his last strength, whispered: "My brother, be a Yao or Shun. The Great Ming… is yours…"