usatvline Chapter 107 The Tiger Needs to Be Reined, The First Move of Nanke
Chapter 107 The Tiger Needs to Be Reined, The First Move of Nanke
As dusk settled and the setting sun bleed-red, it painted the winding official road leading south across the Guanzhong Plain with a desolate hue.
"drive!"
A swift horse kicked up billowing yellow dust, its hooves pounding like raindrops, breaking the deathly silence of the wilderness.
The knight on horseback was not a valiant warrior, but a scholar in a faded blue robe. He was thin and only eighteen or nineteen years old, yet his brows revealed a composure beyond his years.
He was Fang Xuanling, the prototype of a future prime minister who was sent south ahead of schedule on Yang Yan's secret orders.
He carried a book box on his back, with a bulging water bag hanging on the left side of the saddle and a longbow made of tung wood on the right. Although he was dressed as a scholar, his legs were tightly gripping the horse's belly, and he moved freely with the horse's back, clearly demonstrating his excellent riding skills.
As we approached a fork in the road, a tattered wine flag with the word "tea" written on it hung ahead.
"Whoa—"
Fang Xuanling pulled on the reins, and his green horse neighed loudly, reared up, and came to a steady stop in front of the teahouse.
The old man at the tea stall was bending over, tidying up a few tables and chairs with missing corners, preparing to pack up and go home. Seeing a customer arrive, he straightened up, a professional smile spreading across his wrinkled face: "Sir, it's getting late. Would you like a bowl of hot tea before you continue your journey?"
Fang Xuanling dismounted nimbly, brushing the dust off his blue robe. "Old man, please, have a bowl of coarse tea, and may I ask for directions?"
"Alright! This coarse tea will quench your thirst, coming right up."
The old man worked nimbly, scooping a large bowl of tea from the steaming black earthenware pot. The tea was cloudy, but it had a refreshing, roasted aroma.
"Where are you headed, sir?"
"Heading south, we'll go to Xiangzhou first." Fang Xuanling took the chipped rough porcelain bowl, but didn't rush to drink. His seemingly gentle eyes swept over the inside and outside of the teahouse without making a sound.
Under the old locust tree outside the shed, next to the hitching post, there was an oxcart loaded with firewood. The driver, a dark-skinned man, was squatting on a large blue stone by the roadside, eating a dry, hard flatbread with some cold water.
On the distant official road, only a few groups of merchants hurried along, rushing towards the Daxing City Gate, afraid of missing the closing time.
"Xiangzhou? That's not close," the old man said, wiping the table. "Just follow this official road. After passing Lantian Pass, the road will be easier to find. However..."
The old man paused, glanced at Fang Xuanling's thin frame, and kindly reminded him, "Sir, you're riding alone these next few days, so please be careful on the road. I've heard things aren't very peaceful in the south..."
Fang Xuanling's eyebrows twitched slightly. He took out a Kaihuang Wuzhu coin from his pocket, gently tapped it on the table, and it made a crisp "ding" sound.
"Old man, here's the money for the tea."
Then, instead of putting away the money bag, he took out three more coins, pushed them in front of the old man with his fingertips, and placed them side by side with the first coin.
The four copper coins stood out conspicuously on the old wooden table. The old man's eyes were immediately glued to them, and he swallowed hard.
"Father-in-law," Fang Xuanling's voice was lower and more earnest, "to be honest, I am traveling south to visit relatives. The journey is long, and my elders have repeatedly told me to find a reliable caravan to accompany me, so as not to encounter danger alone. You just mentioned that the south is not safe... Could you give me some more guidance? If the information is useful, I will reward you accordingly."
His words were perfectly reasonable—it was only natural for a seemingly frail scholar to want to travel with a large group for his safety. The implication of "another reward" directly ignited the old man's motivation.
The old man quickly gathered all four coins into his sleeve, his face beaming with smiles, his attitude noticeably warmer: "Now that you mention it, sir, I understand! You, a scholar, must be careful!"
He leaned closer, almost whispering, "That group of people is strange! They don't look right. If you happen to run into them, please stay far away."
"Oh? What's wrong with it?" Fang Xuanling asked casually, revealing a hint of nervousness and curiosity.
"They..." The old man squinted, trying hard to recall the scene from yesterday, "They were wearing a motley collection of coarse cloth clothes, but several of them had linings showing at the cuffs and collars that were the wrong color—a dark, bluish-gray that looked old, but the material didn't seem bad. Who among us travelers, escorts on the road, would wear that color of lining? Strange!"
The old, bluish-gray lining... Fang Xuanling's heart stirred, but his expression remained unchanged.
"Anything else?" he asked.
"And when they stopped to water their horses," the old man continued, getting more and more animated, "while others scattered to rest, they remained in a small circle, horses facing outwards. No one sat down; they just stood there drinking a couple of sips of water, their eyes constantly scanning their surroundings. The one leading them, the scarred-faced one… yes, he had a long scar on his left cheek!"
The old man gestured: "His voice wasn't loud when he gave orders, but his tone was harsh and strained, which sounded awkward, unlike what we locals do."
The somber, bluish-gray lining, the alert formation like soldiers facing the enemy, the harsh accents…
His face still maintained the apprehension of a scholar, but his heart was churning like a stormy sea.
A long-forgotten historical record suddenly surfaced—when Jiankang, the capital of the Chen dynasty, was about to fall, its most elite palace guard, imitating the old system of the Northern Qi dynasty's "Hundred Guards of the Xianbei," wore blue brocade armbands and were exceptionally brave and fierce. It was rumored that this was a secret training exercise conducted by Chen Shubao, who recruited and trained brave warriors who had fled north, as a surprise force.
After the fall of the nation, the whereabouts of this formidable army became unknown, with legends suggesting that its remnants scattered and went into hiding...
Equipment habits, military skills, and regional characteristics all fit the bill!
If these remnants of the previous dynasty really did appear here, fully armed and heading straight south...
"...Sir? Sir?" The old man called out twice when he saw that the man seemed to be in a daze.
Fang Xuanling snapped back to his senses, forcefully suppressing the surging fear within him. His face showed a mixture of lingering fear and gratitude, and he quickly took out two more copper coins and stuffed them into the old man's hand.
"Thank you so much for saving my life, sir! I will repay this kindness! I will hurry on my way and make sure to avoid you."
Having said that, he didn't linger any longer, tilted his head back and drank the coarse tea in his bowl, then turned around and nimbly mounted his horse.
……
Daxing City, Changning Prince's Mansion.
Inside the study, the candlelight flickered as Yang Yan hunched over his desk, writing furiously.
"Tap, tap."
A very light knock sounded at the door, rhythmic, two short knocks followed by one long one.
"Enter."
Yang Yan didn't even look up, his pen never stopping.
The door was gently pushed open, letting in a cool night breeze.
Li Mi, dressed in a dark, close-fitting outfit, strode inside and immediately slammed the door shut behind him.
"Your Highness."
Li Mi walked to the desk, took three steps, and bowed: "Fang Xuanling has already left the city. Judging by his pace, he should be almost at Lantian by now."
"Hmm." Yang Yan finally stopped writing with his wolf-hair brush, leaving it suspended in mid-air. "How are the arrangements?"
"As Your Highness instructed, I gave him three hundred taels of gold as travel expenses and bribes."
Li Mi, with a respectful expression, reported in a clear and organized manner: "In addition, I have arranged for five assassins to disguise themselves as caravan members and meet him twenty miles south of Baqiao, to escort him all the way to Lingnan."
"Are those five people reliable?" Yang Yan put his pen down on the pen holder, raised his eyelids, and stared intently at Li Mi.
"They are all my old subordinates from my hometown in Shandong, veterans who fought alongside my late father. They are absolutely reliable."
Li Mi paused, a hint of smugness flashing in his eyes: "These five people each have their own strengths. Two of them drifted to the south in their early years and are fluent in the local dialect; one's ancestors were doctors and he has a basic understanding of medicine; one is skilled in surveying mountains and rivers; and the other... is a distant relative of the Feng family of Lingnan. Although they have declined, they are still a stepping stone."
Yang Yan listened, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes.
It must be said that Li Mi was indeed a man of great talent. For a mere escort mission, he could consider language, medical care, terrain, and even personal connections. His meticulousness was astonishing.
"Xuansui, you've thought of everything very thoroughly," Yang Yan said with a light compliment.
"Since I am serving Your Highness, I will do my best." Li Mi lowered his head, his posture humble.
Yang Yan finally put down his pen, looked up at Li Mi, and a hint of barely perceptible approval flashed in his eyes.
Li Mi's talent, as history records, lies not only in strategy, but also in his almost instinctive, meticulous, and frighteningly thorough execution and planning. He could conceive of such a seemingly minor task as escorting an enemy.
"Xuansui, you always handle things so thoroughly that no one can find fault with you." Yang Yan's tone was calm, revealing little emotion.
"It is my duty to share Your Highness's burdens," Li Mi said, bowing his head with his usual respectful demeanor.
Yang Yan slowly rose, walked around the desk, and strolled to the window. The cool moonlight shone on his shoulders, making his silhouette appear somewhat lonely.
"Profound," he suddenly spoke, his voice exceptionally clear in the silence, "Do you know how you are fundamentally different from Yuwen Huaji, and even from that reckless and impulsive Yang Xuangan?"
Li Mi's body stiffened almost imperceptibly. The air in the study seemed to freeze, with only the faint crackling of the candle wick remaining.
"Your subject... is dull-witted." His voice was slightly hoarse.
Yang Yan turned around, his gaze landing squarely on Li Mi's face, a gaze that seemed to penetrate his skin and see into the deepest recesses of his heart.
"You are a descendant of Li Kuan, the Duke of Pushan, a true noble of the Guanzhong region. In terms of lineage, you are second to none." Yang Yan spoke slowly, but each word was sharp and piercing. "But so what? Back in the palace, His Majesty merely glanced at you and thought you had 'extraordinary vision,' and your promising future as a palace guard was ruined."
(This story is actually Yang Guang's evaluation of Li Mi. I have adapted it to this time period, which is an artistic embellishment.)
Li Mi suddenly looked up, his fist clenching instantly in his sleeve. That past, which was considered a great humiliation yet something he could not change, was so bluntly torn open.
"This frustration of unfulfilled talent and ambition, this unwillingness to revive your family's reputation and prove yourself to the world... these are the greatest motivations that drive you to stand before me today, and what I value most about you." Yang Yan took a step closer, his presence imposing. "I can see your ambition, profound and deep. That's not frightening. Only those with ambition can achieve great things."
Li Mi's breathing became slightly rapid, and there was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead.
"But," Yang Yan's tone suddenly shifted, a hint of coldness creeping into his voice, "intelligent people often overthink and easily perceive others as foolish; gamblers often go all in, daring to wager their entire fortune and life. And an intelligent gambler harboring resentment... is most prone to making mistakes, placing personal interests above the greater good."
Li Mi paused for a moment, letting each word strike his heart.
"I want to use your talent, your courage, and your determination to serve me and the greater good of the future. The world is big enough to accommodate your ambitions."
Yang Yan extended his finger, seemingly pointing at Li Mi's heart: "But you must remember—one must walk the path step by step, and play the game one move at a time. Selfish desires are acceptable, but they must not cross the line. If one day you try to scheme against even me, the one holding the game, and become a gambler who wins all the games..."
Yang Yan smiled at Li Mi and stopped. There was no murderous intent in that smile, but rather an indifferent air of knowing everything and controlling fate.
It was as if all of Li Mi's possible choices and detours in the future were already within his sight.
For the first time, he felt so clearly the unfathomable depth and majesty hidden beneath the young prince's gentle exterior.
That wasn't just a ruler giving a warning to his subjects; it was more like... a subtle warning about the trajectory of fate.
After a long while, Li Mi let out a long, thorough breath, as if forcibly suppressing all the turbulent waves churning in his chest. He took a step back, clasped his hands together, and bowed deeply in the most solemn manner.
"Your Highness's teachings today are invaluable, each word ringing in my ears." His voice was slightly hoarse from suppressed emotion, yet incredibly clear. "Li Mi... will remember them forever."