Gu Huaiyang had already blown out the lights and fallen half asleep when he heard a knock on his door.
He rubbed his eyes, threw on a coat, and sat up. Just who was bothering him at this godforsaken hour? Though, judging by the knocking, it didn’t seem too urgent; not an eyebrows-on-fire kind of emergency that absolutely had to be discussed in the middle of the night.
He opened the door and saw Shi Wuduan standing outside, drooping his head glumly and clutching that weird astrolabe of his. Battered by the elements as he tried not to keel over, he was the very image of a frosted eggplant. For a second, Gu Huaiyang almost thought he’d sleepwalked over here the throes of a nightmare.
A few moments passed before Shi Wuduan finally showed signs of life; he raised his eyes woodenly and said, “Eldest brother.”
“What’s the matter?” Gu Huaiyang asked confusedly.
Shi Wuduan, who could normally natter on incessantly as a parrot, seemed to have gone mute. He stood there, motionless and noiseless as a tree. Gu Huaiyang, still befuddled, could hardly let him stay outside in the freezing wind, so he beckoned him in and Shi Wuduan obediently entered.
Gu Huaiyang said, “Sit down then.”
He then mechanically sat down like a puppet with moving joints.
Before he’d arrived, Gu Huaiyang had been in bed for some time already, so there wasn’t any hot water and he didn’t bother making tea. He asked again, “What’s the matter with you?”
At his words, Shi Wuduan raised his head, staring unblinkingly at the teacup on the table. His expression raised goosebumps on Gu Huaiyang’s skin. He thought his gaze could just about bore a hole through the cup. Gu Huaiyang could tell that something was off with Shi Wuduan; he caught a whiff of alcohol off him and figured he might be drunk. He and Shi Wuduan stared at each other in the dim light for a minute before he finally gave in, and poked Shi Wuduan, “Do you… know who I am?”
Shi Wuduan said, “Eldest brother.”
Ah, so he does recognize me — Gu Huaiyang concluded. He asked, “Are you drunk?”
Shi Wuduan paused, then slowly nodded, “Just a bit.”
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
He is at least somewhat clear-headed, so what’s going on?
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While he remained silent, so did Gu Huaiyang. He fiddled with the lamp a bit and got it to shine a bit brighter. Then he turned to the side and yawned, waiting patiently as ever.
After who knows how long, Shi Wuduan’s hand, which had been limply splayed out on the table, curled into a fist. He suddenly opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Gu Huaiyang leaned over and probed, “What?”
Then, Gu Huaiyang, without a doubt, heard him say, “I’m not wrong.”
For a moment, visible anger flashed over Gu Huaiyang’s face, making him look as young as he actually was — too young to be constantly repressing himself, unable to wear his feelings openly. For a moment, he was just an annoyed, peeved young man.
A second later, he heard Shi Wuduan slowly repeat, “I’m not wrong.”
Gu Huaiyang startled; the candlelight flickered in the breeze slipping through the cracks of the door.
Shi Wuduan shuddered and came back to his senses. He blinked; his eyes gleamed for a split-second, and they were tranquil once more.
He then stood up and, in his oft-used, half a beat slower than a normal person’s, tone of speech said, “Apologies for disturbing eldest brother’s rest. I forgot my manners in my drunkenness.”
So he was fully awake then, Gu Huaiyang thought somewhat ruefully. He said, “Little sixth, do you remember what I said to you back then when we’d just become sworn brothers? We’re all one big family now. You see, you ought to be more like old fifth, who doesn’t hesitate to argue with you whenever he’s worked up. When you’re unhappy, just come and talk about it with big bro. I’ve got to live up to my role as eldest brother, no?”
Shi Wuduan agreed, “Okay.”
Gu Huaiyang knew from his unaffected expression that he clearly wasn’t planning to talk at all, so he sighed and said, “You’ve been working hard these last few days, why don’t you go back and rest.” — stinking brat, you couldn’t kick a fart out of him.
It wouldn’t be until much, much later, when Gu Huaiyang was recalling the happenings of that cold night, and Shi Wuduan’s declaration of “I’m not wrong,” that he’d realize: their little sixth, Bai Li, Yan Zhen, a few dead, and some yet to die, had all been tied upon the altar of those prophetic words; none of them could escape, none of them could so much as move.
As time passed, those three words became a massive suture in their souls; if it was ever torn off, their souls would all look the same — holey.
Early the next morning, Gu Huaiyang, still a bit concerned about Shi Wuduan, sent people to check up on him. However, they quickly reported that he’d already dragged his friend out to go buy some rabbit cakes in the city’s southern district. He’d even brought little Lu Lu, Lu Yunzhou’s baby sister, along. Third brother Lu, unable to find the child, was currently sharpening his blade.
It looked like he was better already — thus the newly minted General Gu cheerily started getting to work.
Edicts from the court came one after another. Being pardoned and provided with provisions meant that they now worked for the court. At the very least, they had to keep the peace in the region. When there wasn’t anything else to do, they’d patrol within Haining, rooting out bandit’s nests and exterminating highwaymen.
Presently, Redscarf Army was spreading their wings; they didn’t need to ally with mountain bandits anymore. Shaking off their old colors, they started slaughtering bandits and plundering their dens. Third brother Lu handled the slaughtering while Meng Zhongyong handled the plundering. The stuff they looted would first pass through General Gu’s hands, before going to Shi Wuduan, who’d allocate funds as needed. Aside from paying off the military governor, most of it would be used to feed the troops, and a small portion of it would be presented to the court as spoils of war.
Getting rid of the highwaymen was Li Rushuang’s job. She was merciful to those willing to surrender; after they reported their names and ancestral homes, they’d be annexed into the ranks of the Redscarf Army. The obedient were given food and shelter. If they happened to die, their families, whether that was seven old mothers or a gaggle of wailing babies, were guaranteed to be looked after. As for the disobedient, those who bucked their rains and courted death, well, one of Li Si-niang’s strengths was perfectly suited for dealing with them — actually, Li Si-niang only had two strengths, one was that she was really good at cooking, and the second was that she was really good at killing.
Shi Wuduan bore the burden of deceiving their superiors, bewitching their subordinates, bribing, social climbing, and greasing the wheels with money.
Thus Gu Huaiyang and his people settled down in Haining; to the surprise of many, it seemed as if they would be content with staying there peacefully, for they scrupulously fulfilled their roles as “local officials.” As time dragged on, Bai Li started to wonder if he’d misunderstood something about the conversation he’d overheard through the water mirror between Shi Wuduan and Gu Huaiyang. Were rebels really supposed to be so docile?
He also found that even though Shi Wuduan was so busy during the day that he saw neither hide nor hair of him, he’d always find the time to talk to him and share a cup of tea when he returned. If he had any free time, he’d drag him out to stroll through the city.
Haining wasn’t very big, but there were a lot of places worth visiting, all of them now under Gu Huaiyang’s control. One could make a round trip from Guji City to Anqing or Changpu in a couple of days if they galloped at full speed.
It was as if Shi Wuduan had completely forgotten what he’d seen and heard that night. Without any sign of reservations, he toured Haining together with Bai Li. Sometimes it was just the two of them, sometimes they brought along little Lu Lu and Xia Duanfang and his little disciples.
Carting Sect Leader Xia’s little disciples over had taken three months. One of the few surviving lesser sects, the Xiaosheng Sect of Haining really was at the end of its rope. At first glance, Shi Wuduan could tell that the three kids’ talents were only so-so. The oldest couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen and he was obviously a kid who’d been holed up on a mountain his whole life and hadn’t any worldly experience.
In charge of such a diminished sect, and lacking worthy successors, it wasn’t hard to imagine why Xia Duanfang was so stingy and overcautious. The disciples were a lot easier to deal with than their slippery shifu. All it took was some candy, snacks, and sweet words for them to behave like good little children — despite Xia Duanfang repeatedly exhorting them not to interact with Shi Wuduan, that two-faced rascal.
The days passed one after another until a whole year had gone by. Spring was upon them again; the flowers and grasses were starting to peek out of the dirt and the weather was slowly warming. Though Xia Duanfang was unable to leave, his attitude had mellowed, perhaps it was because he’d been living comfortably or perhaps it was on account of his three disciples.
The happiest among them was no doubt Bai Li. Even though he was still uncomfortable with the sight of Shi Wuduan working for his “eldest brother” with everything he had, his prickliness had smoothened quite a bit when he heard that Gu Huaiyang had gotten engaged and would soon be carrying his wife over the threshold. He didn’t glare icicles at Gu Huaiyang every time he saw him anymore, he’d even nod slightly in greeting.
Gu Huaiyang seemed to have been born with a knack for figuring out political and military affairs. Once Huaining Commandery had stabilized, it took no more than half a year before, miraculously, the conflicts had mostly died down, and things fell into order. The Redscarf Army had grown to three or four times its original size. Their training proceeded apace, and they were often sent to clear out bandits, using the pillage from one battle to fuel the next.
Haining was half encircled by a mountain range. When things were quiet and they had the manpower to spare, Gu Huaiyang would personally lead them into the mountains to terrace the land. On one hand, they could provide farmable land for soldiers’ families, and on the other, their labor could feed the troops — the court’s provisions weren’t enough to support the entirety of Gu Huaiyang’s private army.
For some reason, throughout all the years of natural disasters and man-made catastrophes, whether it was droughts or floods, Haining was never particularly hard-hit, even if their fortunes weren’t particularly good either. But after the first year that Gu Huaiyang became a general, the second year was blessed with incredibly favorable weather.
As the end of the year approached, the court sent out imperial censors to assess the political achievements of all the regional officials. As soon as the imperial censor arrived in the abnormally well-off and lively Haining, Shi Wuduan shoved heaps of bribes and incentives into his arms. He stayed for half a year, eating and drinking his fill before he left in satisfaction. But then it turned out that not a single one of all those high and mighty inspector-generals, viceroys, and other bigshots sitting at the top of the hierarchy could match the achievements of some random “general” that’d popped out in the countryside.
It was the biggest joke of the year.
After the New Year’s festivities, General Gu would finally wed the daughter of neighboring Huyang Commandery’s non-imperial prince, Zhao Honglu.
The Prince of Huyang was a valourous general who’d helped establish the dynasty, thus his title had been passed down from generation to generation. Technically, his daughter had the status to marry into the imperial palace as a concubine, but by the time Zhao Honglu inherited the title, the favor garnered by his distant ancestor’s willingness to fight for the imperial family had long died out already. Zhao Honglu was dissatisfied with his meager patch of land at the edge of the southern sea. He “protected” the region on the surface, but raised countless private soldiers in the shadows, preparing to take advantage of the coming crisis.
He had never even thought of marrying his daughter off to an old emperor whose head might be lopped off any at moment. He scanned around and deemed Gu Huaiyang quite tolerable. He coveted the commandery that was prospering under Gu Huaiyang’s rule, so he gladly sold his daughter, thinking to use his position as father-in-law to seize his son-in-law’s land if the opportunity ever arose.
Still, regardless of what was going through old Zhao’s mind, the marriage itself was a delightful affair.
While the lingering New Year’s spirit was still alive, Haining’s streets had been decorated in red, looking cheerful as a field of peach blossoms.
Even Bai Li had changed out of the plain white robes he usually wore. At Shi Wuduan’s nagging, he managed to dig a gold-embroidered robe out from the ether. He’d also earnestly prepared wedding gifts — since he really was happy that Gu Huaiyang was getting married.
It’s like Xiao Wu is spending this peaceful moment to it’s fullest with Bai Li before all hell broke loose
Seems so 😢😳
Bai happy his “rival” is getting married.
💙💙💙
Lol so he’s married!
That’s cute tho, this character sworn brother of SWD is charming
Great Demon Lord Bai Li, are u okay now 😂
SWD hug ur wifey he might go berserk anytime from too much vinegar.
Thank u for the chapter!!!
This yandere vinegar jar Bai Li! 😅
I actually really like how competent the Red Scarf army is. They were rebellious because of poor circumstances, and disenfranchised, not because they were greedy. I know it’s historical fantasy but it really makes me feel better.