usatvline Chapter 108 Traces of Green Smoke
Chapter 108 Traces of Green Smoke
Yang Yan instantly concealed all his sharpness, returning to his usual gentle demeanor, as if everything that had just happened was merely an illusion.
"Good that you understand. Go on, you have a heavy responsibility on your shoulders."
"You need to coordinate the exercise at Kunming Pool. You also need to take care of the supply lines and support for the thousand men who secretly traveled south. In addition, keep a close eye on who is frequently seen at the Duke of Yue's residence after the Prince of Jin left the capital."
"Yes! Secretly, I will certainly not fail Your Highness's trust!"
Li Mi bowed deeply once more, then steadily withdrew from the study, carefully closing the door behind him.
It wasn't until he stepped into the courtyard and was startled by the cold night wind that he realized his clothes were soaked with cold sweat.
Inside the study, Yang Yan sat back down at his desk, picked up his pen, but did not put it down.
He understood history and knew what path Li Mi would ultimately take.
Therefore, he had to occasionally strike this "famous sword" that was too sharp and could easily injure its master.
Tonight's words are half about management techniques and half a warning for the future.
Little did he know the profound and unsettling impact his pronouncement, based on his supposed "prophecy of history," would have on Li Mi at that very moment, and how it would have been an unexpected and perfectly effective response.
The study returned to silence.
Yang Yan sat back down at his desk, his gaze falling on the half-finished "Preliminary Strategy for Lingnan" on the desk.
"With a mix of local people and powerful clans, and remnants of the Southern Dynasties stirring up trouble... it will be difficult to turn Lingnan into a base."
He rubbed his slightly swollen temples and pulled out a thread-bound book without a cover from the deepest part of the bookshelf.
This is a "heavenly book" that he wrote down from memory after he transmigrated here—it is densely filled with records of the lives, personalities, turning points, and... death dates of key figures in the Sui and Tang Dynasties.
He flipped through a few pages, his finger lingering on the three characters "Fang Xuanling".
"At the age of eighteen, he was renowned in his hometown for his talent and learning..."
Yang Yan looked at the line of small characters, a smile appearing on his lips.
Eighteen years old is the prime of life, a time when youthful vigor and passion are still burning bright.
At this time, Fang Xuanling had not yet become the cautious prime minister who had to "plan carefully before acting"; he was still a rough diamond.
"Fang's planning and Du's decisiveness..." Yang Yan muttered to himself. "Fang Xuanling is already in our hands, but Du Ruhui... it seems we need to hurry up and find him too. He's just too young now. Should I train him myself?"
He closed the book, carefully hid it in the secret compartment, and then blew out the candle.
The day after tomorrow is the Kunming Pool exercise.
Yang Yan gazed at the lonely moon, his eyes gradually sharpening.
"The net has been cast in the south, and the stage in the capital has been set up."
He murmured to himself, his voice fading into the night wind.
"Whether it's someone trying to trip me up in Lingnan, or someone wanting to see me make a fool of myself at Kunming Pool... this time, let's have a real showdown."
……
Meanwhile, at Baqiao Post Station.
Fang Xuanling asked for the cheapest room, which contained an oil lamp and a wooden bed. After a quick wash, he took out a blank book from his book box, ground ink, and picked up his brush.
"On April 17th, we left Chang'an. An old man at the teahouse outside Chunming Gate said that more than thirty horsemen went south yesterday, all of them strong and healthy, and the leader had a scar on his left cheek. He suspected they were sent by the Prince of Jin or the Duke of Yue..."
He paused to reflect after writing this.
"Qingjin..."
Fang Xuanling tapped his fingertips lightly on the table. He recalled that, according to the History of the Northern Dynasties, Gao Yang of the Northern Qi Dynasty had trained elite soldiers known as the "Hundred Protectors of Xianbei," whose insignia was "blue brocade wrapped around their arms." This system had been lost for nearly thirty years after the fall of the Northern Qi Dynasty, so why had it reappeared on the Guanzhong Road and attached to a group of elite cavalry heading south?
This matter was too strange for him to make a hasty judgment. As he continued writing, he only left behind a cautious conjecture:
"Judging from their behavior and utensils, they seem to follow the old system of Qi, but there is no concrete evidence, so this remains a question and needs further investigation."
As he was writing, he suddenly remembered what his father, Fang Yanqian, had said a few days earlier.
At that time, he told his father that he was going to Lingnan. Fang Yanqian remained silent for a long time before saying, "Xuanling, the Prince of Changning is no ordinary man. Your trip is not to curry favor with the powerful, but to apply your knowledge and uphold the righteous path. Remember the words 'integrity' as the foundation of your character, and do not tarnish your family's reputation."
"Who is 'father'?"
"Yang Jian's ascension to the throne was illegitimate. The powerful clans of Guanzhong appeared to submit, but in reality, they each harbored their own ambitions. The former officials of Southern Chen were not yet resigned to their fate. Lingnan, being far from the emperor's reach, was a place where corruption and filth could easily accumulate."
Fang Yanqian lowered his voice: "Since you've made your decision, why do you prioritize your own safety above all else?"
Fang Xuanling initially thought his father was overthinking things, but now, upon reflection, he sensed a chill in his heart.
This group of people headed south, their destination likely being the remote and distant Lingnan region.
If there is indeed any connection with the forces of the previous dynasty... a chill creeps in.
Before his departure, Yang Yan had a brief conversation with him.
"Xuanling, you have three things to do on your trip to Lingnan," Yang Yan said at the time. "First, draw a detailed map of the region, including mountains, rivers, roads, passes, and water sources, leaving nothing out. Second, record the people's conditions and the administration of officials, including the merits and demerits of officials, the weight of taxes, and the hardships of the people, striving for accuracy."
At this point, Yang Yan paused slightly, the candlelight flickering in his eyes.
"Third..." His voice lowered, "Pay attention to the movements of the former officials of the Southern Chen dynasty, as well as the relationship between the Li and Liao tribes and the Xian clan. Lingnan may seem remote, but it is actually a place where various forces are intertwined. What you need to look at is not only the mountains, rivers, and counties that are visible, but also the threads hidden in the shadows."
At the time, Fang Xuanling thought it was just a routine investigation into government affairs.
Even now, under the solitary lamp of the Baqiao Post Station, when that striking "blue brocade" and her father's warning of "harboring filth" surface together...
"Lingnan..." he murmured.
……
The night was dark.
The temporary military camp in Daxingyuan was still brightly lit. Qin Qiong's roar and the soldiers' tired breathing intertwined, forming a frenzied symphony before the battle.
Kill! Kill! Kill!
Deafening shouts of battle rose and fell. Qin Qiong, shirtless, his bronze muscles gleaming in the firelight, held a sword that remained sheathed, yet it moved like a black dragon, each swing bringing with it a sharp gust of wind.
"Didn't you eat? Is this all the strength you have? When the Turkic horses trample you, are you going to weakly defend yourselves like this?"
Qin Qiong's roar was like a tiger howling in the mountains, making the men who had just put down their hoes tremble with fear. They had no choice but to grit their teeth and squeeze out the last bit of potential from their bodies.
Amidst the fervent cries of impending battle, a dark figure silently slipped through the shadows at the edge of the camp.
He asked Li Jing for leave under the pretext of checking the list of "passes" (travel documents) needed for his southward journey, and left the military camp alone.
He stopped at the end of a secluded alley in Xuanyangfang, wearing a dark cloak.
This was a teahouse that had long since closed. The "tea" sign above the door had faded and hung limply in the night wind. The door was tightly shut, exuding a sense of desolation.
Li Mi glanced around to make sure there was no tail behind him before gently knocking on the door.
"Tap, tap, tap... tap, tap."
Three long and two short, with distinct rhythms.
A moment later, the door hinges groaned slightly and opened a crack.
Li Mi remained silent and stepped inside.
The front hall was pitch black, filled with the smell of stale tea leaves and damp wood.
Li Mi was clearly very familiar with this place. He didn't even need the light to skillfully walk around a few scattered tables and chairs, pass through an old screen painted with ruins of mountains and rivers, and head straight for the backyard.
A dim, yellowish light finally shone through a separate room in the backyard.
Li Mi pushed open the door and entered.
The room was furnished very simply, with nothing but a wooden table and two stools.
On the table was a simple celadon tea set, and in a small bronze beast incense burner, a wisp of incense was burning.
The fragrance initially smells cool and refreshing, but upon closer inspection, it reveals a deep, slightly medicinal, and melancholic woody scent that lingers on the tip of the nose – this is the finest agarwood.
Almost the instant he stepped into the room, Li Mi's tense nerves relaxed slightly, almost imperceptibly.
This unique scent was more reliable to him than any token or password.
This is the scent of "them," a silent declaration of identity from that dark underworld.
A figure sat with his back to the door at the table, slowly and methodically arranging the tea set.
He was of medium build, dressed in a dark brown cloth robe commonly worn by ordinary merchants, and his hair was casually tied up with a wooden hairpin.
From behind, he looked like any ordinary rice shop owner in Chang'an, haggling over a few coins.
Li Mi stepped forward, said nothing, and simply bowed.
"gentlemen."
"sit."
The person's voice came through, flat and hoarse, revealing neither their age nor their emotions.
Li Mi sat down on the stool opposite him as instructed, his back ramrod straight.
He had intended to report on the various changes that had occurred at the training ground that day—about Qin Qiong's military training, about Fang Xuanling's departure from the capital, and even about what Yang Yan had said to him in the study.
But since the other party didn't ask any questions, he could only wait in silence.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the subtle, clear sound of boiling water being poured into the teacup.
"I heard that you almost drew your sword against Yuwen Huaji at the training ground a few days ago?"
The man did not turn around, remaining focused on his tea ceremony, as if it were more important than the state of the world.
Li Mi's heart skipped a beat, and his back tensed instantly: "It was my rashness. That Yuwen Huaji has gone too far, insulting our ancestors..."
"impulse?"
The man chuckled softly, finally turned around, and gently pushed a cup of brewed tea in front of Li Mi.
By the dim candlelight, Li Mi could see the face clearly.
It was an ordinary face, with no distinctive features, the kind of face that you could easily lose in a crowd.
Only his eyes were as deep as two dry wells.
"If you say so, then so be it."
The man said calmly, with a hint of sarcasm in his tone, "However, to be able to act so convincingly even in a situation like that is quite fitting for your identity as the 'Heir of Pushan.'"
Li Mi's hand, which was holding the teacup, trembled almost imperceptibly. The tea rippled slightly, reflecting his somewhat pale face.
"Let's talk about Yang Yan instead."
The man didn't dwell on the topic, but tapped his fingers lightly on the table.
"You've been serving Prince Changning for some time now. What do you think of his actions? Is he just young and impetuous, or... a shrewd and calculating old fox?"