Once his belt was fastened, he straightened his lapels, looking spirited once again. "Matters here are settled. We set out for Blackwater City."
He appeared radiant with the bearing of a grand general; the dishevelment and dejection of the night before had long vanished without a trace.
"Understood," Zhao Qinghe replied, but in his mind, he could only wonder just how much this grand general kept buried in his heart.
Cries had drifted from the general's tent the previous night, and word had spread like wildfire. Hearing that the commander-in-chief had wept his heart out on his family memorial day, those who knew the story filled others in on the tragedy when the He clan had nearly been exterminated all those years ago.
The soldiers, upon hearing this, sighed with collective sorrow.
General He's entire family had suffered an unjust grievance. Anyone else would have long turned disheartened and bitter, yet General He still rode forth to campaign for the country, saving Great Yuan's realm from the brink of collapse.
To repay grievance with uprightness—this was truly a man of great character. The troops were filled with admiration and respect.
Catching the tail end of the fifth month, He Lingchuan arrived at Blackwater City.
While the Yuan capital was already sweltering, Blackwater City's breeze still carried a touch of chill.
Walking past the familiar city gate, He Lingchuan took a deep breath.
Yes, this was the rugged, wild scent—windblown sand mingled with rotting wood and stale dust.
Arid, untamed, yet comfortingly familiar.
He Chunhua had not yet reached Blackwater City, so He Lingchuan took Qiu Hu and the rest of their party to lodge at an inn first.
Come evening, he wandered out alone for a stroll.
Compared to before he left, Blackwater City had changed very little; wherever he looked, there were only the same old streets, old alleys, and old faces.
In a frontier town like this, unless some major calamity struck, decades could pass without a single change.
He Lingchuan bought a scallion oil pancake he used to eat often, then strolled leisurely into the South City Office.
He had barely taken two steps inside when the gatekeeper came over to stop him: "Out, out! No eating in here!"
This was a place for official business; letting a greasy aroma drift all over the place was utterly improper!
He Lingchuan took a bite of the pancake, turned his head, and smiled. "Wang Xiaoshuan, what did you just say?"
The man froze, his mouth moving faster than his brain: "Y-Young Master?"
"It's been over a year. How are you still guarding the gate here?"
A direct hit to the sore spot—Wang Xiaoshuan flinched. "Young Master, didn't you go... go to..."
He Lingchuan smiled warmly. "That's right. Is Situ Han in?"
"Ah, he's inside."
"Tell him to head over to the Cai family's wonton stall. I'll wait for him there." He Lingchuan tossed him a few bits of broken silver and turned to leave.
The Cai family's wontons were well-known in Blackwater City—thin skins, generous fillings, and honest ingredients.
The stallkeeper still recognized He Lingchuan and beamed from ear to ear, serving him two extra-large, basin-sized bowls.
While the wontons in the bowls were still plump and piping hot, Situ Han arrived.
"Young Master!"
One look at the color and cut of his uniform told He Lingchuan everything. "Promoted to head constable? Come, sit!"
Situ Han had originally been a bandit chieftain on Mount Mang. When He Chunhua entered the Panlong Desert in search of the ruins, he had directly conscripted the entire gang of over thirty bandits. Later, when the Blackwater City troops fought the heroic spirits at the Panlong Ruins and clashed with Nian Songyu and National Preceptor Sun in the Panlong illusion, they took part in it all. After returning to the city, they received commendations and were officially enrolled into service.
He Lingchuan had assumed they wouldn't get used to such a life and would soon return to their old trade.
Who would have thought Situ Han and the others had actually done quite well here, even earning promotions.
Evidently, an official post had its own magic; stability trumped everything.
He Lingchuan also noticed that Situ Han kept his hands pressed against the seams of his trousers, looking stiff and restrained in both posture and expression.
The Mount Mang bandits of old, who ate meat by the fistful, guzzled wine by the bowlful, and weighed out gold on large scales, had never been like this.
Just two years of official service had taught them hierarchy and deference.
Sure enough, Situ Han sat down with proper decorum and said to He Lingchuan, "Young Master, did you travel all the way from the capital?"
"Where else would I come from?" Information traveled slowly to the people of Blackwater City; to this day, Situ Han didn't know that He Lingchuan had fallen into the river, assuming he had stayed in Xiazhou until recently moving to the Yuan capital with He Chunhua. He Lingchuan blew on a spoonful of broth to cool it. "The old man suppressed the rebellion in the south, winning a complete victory. He'll be arriving here in a few days."
Situ Han was startled at first, then overjoyed. "A victory?"
"If he lost, he wouldn't have time to come here," He Lingchuan smiled. "You knew about the war in the south too?"
"Yeah, rumors have been flying all over town. One day they say the northwest lost, the next day they say the south lost again. Everyone's been thoroughly dispirited." Situ Han sighed, glanced left and right, and lowered his voice. "A few of my brothers were asking me too—if things took a turn for the worse, should we head back to Red Cliff Road to live our old lives?"
"And what did you say?"
Situ Han let out a long sigh and replied solemnly, "We're men with merits and an honorable career now. We can't go back."
He Lingchuan smiled without speaking.
Like hell he believed that. Every one of them could sing a prettier tune than a minstrel.
Situ Han asked again, "By the way, how is that lad Maotao doing? He's sharper than the rest of us, so Master He must think highly of him, right?"
Back when He Chunhua was transferred to Xiazhou, none of the other Mount Mang bandits wanted to leave their homeland; only Maotao had stubbornly insisted on following.
The smile vanished from He Lingchuan's face.
"..."
After he finished recounting the battles in Xiazhou, Situ Han fell silent for a good while before saying, "That lad Maotao... well done, he got what he sought! I don't think he'll have any regrets."
Just listening to it was enough to convey the soul-stirring terror of those battles.
He Lingchuan pulled a cloth bundle from his breast and handed it across. "He was a Mount Mang man. I couldn't bring his bones back, so I can only bring his memorial tablet home. Build a cenotaph for him. Clear the weeds twice a year, and burn spirit money twice a year—make sure there's variety, paper figurines, paper horses, paper houses. Can you manage that?"
Inside the cloth bundle was Maotao's memorial tablet. Taking it, Situ Han nodded repeatedly. "Without fail, without fail. That lad Maotao always liked big eyes. I'll make sure the paper women burned for him match that standard."
He Lingchuan gave a slight smile and passed over another pouch.
Situ Han opened it to look: inside were several gold bars, totaling about thirty-odd taels.
That was equivalent to more than three hundred thousand copper coins. Situ Han hurriedly pushed it back. "Maotao was my brother. Building a tomb for him is only right..."
"Take it."
"Oh." Seeing He Lingchuan's brow furrow, a sudden chill struck Situ Han's heart, instantly cutting off any thought of refusal. The young master was different from before—steady, composed. Was it because he had been on the battlefield and lived through life-and-death combat?
Coming from a bandit background, he was skilled at sizing people up. If he ran into a figure like He Lingchuan on the road, he would never dare provoke him.
"Young Master is truly righteous."
He Lingchuan shook his head. "Not righteous, just guilty. Maotao came with me because he wanted a good life."
"For folks like us who lick blood off blade edges all day long, how many of us meet a good end? Everything is fate, Young Master, no need to blame yourself. Isn't there an old saying? An earthen pitcher is bound to break by the well eventually."
He Lingchuan's brow twitched as he immediately remembered the Water Spirit Shrine by the shore of Xianling Lake.
Maotao had drawn a fortune slip there, and the slip's verse had been this exact phrase!
The old turtle demon's divination had actually held some truth.
He Lingchuan shifted the topic. "Did you receive the letter I sent via the demoiselle crane?"
"I did!" Situ Han nodded repeatedly. "As you requested, I've already combed through Blackwater City's household registers for all new residents who moved here within the last eight months!"
Chapter 804