Chapter 1337 – Defeating Huang Song, Unification of Dongqing (Seventy-Eight)
Jiang Nongqin was unlike ordinary women; the two of them shared thoughts, but Yang Si always felt that they were still far from the finish line.
When she actively brought up the topic, Yang Si thought that they had finally made a mark, leaving only the last stroke, which would be much simpler.
However, neither of them was someone who prioritized emotions; their discussions leaned more toward business matters.
Curiously, he asked, “Where is our Lord capturing Huang Song?”
Jiang Nongqin replied, “It doesn’t matter where; anyway, he won’t escape our Lord’s grasp no matter the location.”
Facing such unwavering loyalty, Yang Si had built up a degree of immunity and chose to ignore it.
“When he was captured, did he have any extreme reactions?”
Jiang Nongqin said, “Like a turtle in a jar, struggling in vain! Our Lord treats him well; if he doesn’t appreciate it, it’s a dead end for him.”
Yang Si: “……”
Not again, the “heart disease” was flaring up.
Aside from a small number of individuals who got separated amid the chaos, most of Huang Song’s mainstay forces were captured and became Jiang Pengji’s prisoners.
The latter had no penchant for torturing captives, but neither would she treat defeated foes as honored guests. Except for Huang Song, who received decent treatment, the others were left with ordinary conditions, their food supply no better than that of regular soldiers. Some erupted in fury, sending food flying, while others remained silent during meals.
Cheng Jing was held separately, and Wei Ci easily found him. When he saw Cheng Jing, Wei Ci was carrying a food box, which held several plates of hot dishes and freshly cooked rice on the top three levels and a set of clean clothes on the bottom.
Wei Ci hadn’t expected to find Cheng Jing. If following the trajectory of past events, he would have committed suicide in prison out of loyalty to his master.
But thinking again, Cheng Jing’s bond with Huang Song was nowhere near as strong as in the past life, so he naturally wouldn’t perform such an act.
Cheng Jing was confined in a small tent, guarded by many soldiers outside; he couldn’t even get a wing to fly.
“What brings you here?” Cheng Jing put down his bowl and chopsticks, looked up at Wei Ci, and said, “Could it be you’re acting as a mediator?”
Inside the tent, the light was dim, with only a not-so-bright oil lamp on a low table casting shadows that made Cheng Jing appear even more haggard.
Wei Ci said nothing; he bent down and took some candles and a fire stick from the bottom of the food box, lighting them one by one, which made the tent much brighter.
“Our Lord didn’t instruct me about this,” Wei Ci bluntly stated, “I was just worried that you might be neglected, so I came to check on you.”
By candlelight, Wei Ci noticed Cheng Jing had stubble on his chin and bloodshot eyes, lacking the elegance he usually exuded.
Cheng Jing didn’t get angry; if Wei Ci were truly acting as a mediator, he wouldn’t be surprised.
“You rarely call me ‘Jing Shixiong’ (Brother Jing).”
Wei Ci was considered Mr. Yuanjing’s direct disciple; sibling order was based on when they entered the sect, not by age.
“After all, we are brothers in the same school; whether I call you Shixiong or simply ‘you,’ isn’t it the same?”
Wei Ci sat across from Cheng Jing, presenting the dishes from the food box, the aroma wafting up temptingly.
Even with little appetite, the scent of the food subtly sparked a sense of hunger in Cheng Jing.
He forced a smile, trying to relax his lips.
“Is Zixiao trying to buy people over with this?”
As Wei Ci spoke, he produced two jars of wine. “Today, we won’t discuss business; it’s just to reminisce.”
Cheng Jing’s temperament differed from the other brothers, and Wei Ci wasn’t too sure he could persuade him to side with their Lord.
It might be hard to believe, but Wei Ci genuinely came to care for Brother Cheng Jing.
There was one thing Wei Ci never understood in either life: why did Cheng Jing follow Huang Song?
Wasn’t his “way” supposed to align with fate and uphold the rightful order?
From both his family’s background and personal charm, Huang Song was ten thousand miles away from being deemed “rightful.”
Wei Ci asked bluntly.
Cheng Jing took a sip of the clear wine; it was unlike what he usually drank, being thicker in flavor and leaving a warm sensation as it went down, with a strong aftertaste. After a few cups, he showed a hint of color to his cheeks, with misty eyes and a touch of fatigue.
“Does Zixiao know about our Lord’s … connection to the ancestor Bo Gao?”
Wei Ci paused, “Isn’t this person of the Yuan family background?”
Cheng Jing stated, “The branch of Bo Gao is the last surviving descendant of the Great Xia royal family. In the late days of the Great Xia, the noble lineage was nearly wiped out; our ancestor, grateful for the favor shown by the emperor, risked his life to escort the last emperor’s daughter to safety, hiding her in the family side branch and raising her without revealing her identity. He treated her as his own daughter. At that time, the land was divided among five kingdoms; revealing her identity would not only endanger her but also involve the Cheng family.”
Wei Ci suddenly understood something.
“So, in that case, the last emperor’s princess eventually married into the Yuan family?”
Cheng Jing nodded, affirming Wei Ci’s statement. Back then, the Yuan family was still a prominent military clan, and the Cheng family arranged the marriage to better protect this bloodline. Who would have thought the Yuan family’s ancestors continued to make mistakes, leading to their current downfall in just two generations?
Huang Song’s grandfather got into trouble, almost implicating the entire clan, and it was the Cheng family creating ways behind the scenes to calm the situation.
Capital punishment could be pardoned, but lesser crimes were unavoidable; Huang Song’s father was banished and died en route.
The remaining widow and child had no support, and the Yuan clan would not extend a helping hand, forcing Huang Song’s mother to earn a living through her embroidery skills.
While young and widowed, Huang Song’s mother was once sought after by a favorite chamberlain of the Emperor of Dongqing named Huang Qin, who came to propose marriage.
When mother remarried, Huang Song’s father took on the Huang surname and naturally followed his father’s name.
Few knew about this old story, not even Huang Song himself.
Of course, Cheng Jing supported him; blood ties were one thing, but also because Huang Song had redeeming qualities.
If he could restore the glory of his ancestors, that would be ideal.
“Shixiong mentions this to Ci—”
Wei Ci found it puzzling; by normal procedures, if their Lord found out Huang Song had this connection, Huang Song’s life would be in danger.
Cheng Jing said, “The might of the Great Xia has long since faded; does it really matter whether Bo Gao has royal blood?”
Moreover, only a handful of people knew about this matter, and most of them were nearing the end of their lives.
Who would believe that a eunuch’s grandson was the last descendant of the previous dynasty’s royal family?
“Is Shixiong still holding onto the belief that the Great Xia persists?” Wei Ci asked.
Cheng Jing smiled, “Then we need to see if your Lord Lan Ting can become the ‘rightful’ one.”
Others might think Cheng Jing harbored intentions of loyalty, but Wei Ci knew very well he was determined not to submit.
Unless—
Unless their Lord truly could ascend to the pinnacle!
Wei Ci sighed, “Shixiong, can you bear to waste your years, living like some rustic hermit?”
Cheng Jing replied, “It’s not about whether I can bear it, but rather if Lord Lan Ting is willing to support me.”
The initiative was not in his hands.
Cheng Jing wasn’t averse to serving Jiang Pengji; he just didn’t feel inclined to do so under her current condition.
Wei Ci asked, “Shixiong doesn’t feel it’s a pity?”
To waste such a prime time.
If peace returned and he sought to serve then, it would be difficult for Cheng Jing to receive prominent positions, and would he not be despondent in the future?
Cheng Jing stated, “With one Wei Ci, one Yang Si, and one Han Yu, losing a Cheng Jing means nothing.”
He had seen the harm of Huang Song’s dominance over the Yuan family.
Should the Langya lineage truly rise, wouldn’t Jiang Pengji find it challenging to manage alone?
Might as well withdraw from the storm, seek tranquility, and wait for peace to return before serving once again.
Cheng Jing lowered his gaze. “…I just want to be quiet… if Zixiao has no business, let’s call this meeting off for now.”
