Chapter Five: Playing the Game

Jiangdu City lay on the westernmost edge of Hangzhou, its name drawn from the great river that coursed through the entire city before stretching onward to the Wei waters.

On an autumn evening, an old man in a bamboo hat rowed his boat across the river. Mist and fine rain veiled the scene, falling upon the bluestone walkway and stirring faint ripples in the unremarkable puddles. The riverbank was cold and clear; a few fishing friends, having caught nothing all night, leaned against one another and dozed.

It was still early. The streets held only a scattering of passersby. Yet by the bridge, a crimson oil-paper umbrella drew the eye—though it was the pair beneath it, a refined gentleman and a graceful lady, who truly captured attention.

People paused to gaze in admiration. Chattering wives guessed at their origins—perhaps wealthy siblings from some grand family, or even immortal cultivators from a celestial sect.

Pei Xiunian glanced up. His eyes took in the antique arch bridge, the flying eaves and upturned corners of the Huizhou-style pavilions and towers. Here in Jiangdu, one might have believed they had already ventured into the heart of the southern lands.

He looked again at his companion, the one holding the umbrella—Xiao Qin. Today she wore a dark, brocade-trimmed robe embroidered with a wild crane, her hair simply bound, with wisps falling at her temples and gold-and-jade earrings trailing red tails at her ears.

Her delicate features and bright eyes seemed as though she had walked straight out of an ink painting. Once, she had belonged to the ranks of nobility; such transcendent bearing could not be feigned without having dwelled in that world.

Xiao Qin, feeling his gaze, blushed faintly. Her cherry lips parted as she spoke in a soft voice, “My lord…”

Pei Xiunian smiled. “I said before that these earrings suited you. Seeing them now, it’s true—they’re perfect.”

She instinctively wished to bow, her cheeks deepening in color. She stammered, “How…how could I, your servant, accept such a generous gift…”

Pei Xiunian was about to reply when someone behind them shouted, “Catch him—catch him!”

Xiao Qin moved protectively in front of him, but realized the constables were not after them. Pei Xiunian turned and saw a man clambering across the tiled roof of the city gate, clutching a bundle of pamphlets. As he fled eastward, he scattered them to the wind. The Six Gates constables chased him, weaving over the ridgeline and already gasping for breath.

Pei Xiunian picked up one of the pamphlets that had drifted to the ground. It proclaimed that the Qingqiu army pressed at the borders, the court remained inactive, Yunchuan had fallen, and now all able men were being called to gather in Jiangdu…

A glance was enough for Pei Xiunian to recognize his own handiwork; he had ordered these very pamphlets. Without reading further, he handed one to a constable who was busy collecting them. The man thanked him politely.

Pei Xiunian took the opportunity to ask, “Sergeant, what’s the story with these pamphlets?”

The constable waved a hand with a sigh. “No one knows who’s behind them. Since yesterday, they’ve spread like wildfire through Jiangdu. Soon enough, a crowd of martial artists stormed the yamen, demanding answers from the officials.”

The magistrate, fearing the situation would escalate and attract wandering heroes from other counties—thus disturbing the peace of Jiangdu—issued an overnight ban on spreading these pamphlets. But there was no way to seize them all!

This newly appointed constable continued to collect pamphlets, muttering as he walked away, “You can gather up all the pamphlets, but can you silence the mouths of the people who’ve read them? And what they say isn’t exactly false…”

Xiao Qin’s brows drew together in doubt. “If a minor constable can grasp the truth, why does the magistrate pretend not to understand?”

“He understands perfectly well,” Pei Xiunian replied coolly, casting a sidelong glance at Xiao Qin, who had once been the legitimate daughter of a high official and spent years in the imperial palace. “The urgency at the front, the Qingqiu army entrenched in Xiangyang—these matters have surely reached the magistrate’s ears. But in his jurisdiction, if martial artists are openly being recruited to form a private army, that’s a violation of imperial law. If he fails to make a show of resistance, regardless of whether the Qingqiu army ever reaches Hangzhou, he’ll still be impeached.”

Xiao Qin nodded in understanding, but her worry deepened. “Then won’t our task here become all the more difficult?”

Pei Xiunian shook his head with a smile. “Don’t forget my identity.”

She was about to say that even an imperial prince could be held to the law, but then realized: the magistrate of Jiangdu was, in fact, eager for the martial world to form a righteous army to repel Qingqiu. After all, the Western Liang army was camped just fifty li outside the city; if they retreated any further, Jiangdu itself would be lost.

But the magistrate couldn’t openly turn a blind eye. If someone with higher rank appeared and took the blame, he could conveniently step aside.

As the third prince, Pei Xiunian’s rank surpassed even that of the regional governor; the highest officials in Hangzhou would have to treat him with utmost respect.

But… wouldn’t that expose his identity? What about these deliberately humble clothes…?

“What are you thinking about?” Pei Xiunian asked, turning to see Xiao Qin still holding the umbrella and lost in thought. “Let’s go to the magistrate’s residence.”

“Yes, my lord.” She came to herself, quickly raising the umbrella to follow him. In the misty autumn rain, Pei Xiunian’s calm gaze somehow set her at ease.

As they walked across the bluestone, Pei Xiunian considered how best to rally the martial artists.

The front lines were not far from Jiangdu. A day had passed since the message was sent, and with deliberate agitation, the news would have spread quickly. Gathering the cultivators in Jiangdu would not take long—they had their own ways of traveling swiftly. The challenge was convincing them to trust a man with no cultivation and follow him into a campaign with no guarantee of success.

There were many righteous and chivalrous souls among the martial world, but not so many as to follow orders blindly at a single word.

Xiao Qin halted as a gatekeeper barred their way. “May I ask who you are?”

Pei Xiunian finally looked up. Above the gate, the three flowing characters read: Magistrate’s Residence.

Beside the magistrate’s residence, a newly opened outdoor teahouse bustled with life despite the early rain. The crowd was thick—clearly a gathering place for wandering martial artists.

After the previous night’s commotion, Pei Xiunian and Xiao Qin’s appearance—more like cultivators than common folk—put the gatekeepers on high alert.

“Take this seal to your master,” Pei Xiunian said, offering a finely carved jade seal to the lead servant without pretense. The man hurried inside.

The tea drinkers cast sidelong glances, comparing Pei Xiunian and Xiao Qin to various noble heirs or high-ranking offspring, perhaps already contemplating a kidnapping.

But as an unwed prince, Pei Xiunian was not known even in the capital, let alone here in distant Jiangdu.

Soon, the doors reopened. Magistrate Sun himself appeared, returning the jade seal with a bow and declared in a clear voice, “This humble official did not know Your Highness was coming. I beg forgiveness for failing to greet you properly.”

Pei Xiunian’s eyes narrowed. Just inside the door, he caught the rising murmur from behind. The magistrate truly took him for a naive prince, using his name to curry favor at their very first meeting.

But this suited his plans perfectly.

“No matter,” Pei Xiunian replied indifferently. Just before stepping inside, he asked in a measured tone, “Why has Jiangdu sent no reinforcements to Xiliang?”

The heavy doors closed, but his words hung in the air, sending another ripple through the teahouse.

It was a simple question, just the sort a sheltered prince might ask. Magistrate Sun, reassured, forced a smile. “Your Highness, it is not that I refuse to send aid, but without an order from the Hangzhou regional governor, I have no authority over the city garrison. I hope Your Highness will forgive me.”

Pei Xiunian shook his head with a faint smile.

A magistrate, passing the buck with perfect justification, not even mentioning an imperial edict—he truly knew his craft.

As Sun Hong feigned anxiety and confusion, Pei Xiunian’s voice rang out sternly, “I arrived in Jiangdu today only to find pamphlets calling for martial artists to gather. Is someone openly raising a private army in my city? Magistrate Sun, you owe me a proper explanation!”