Chapter 16: He Yan's Downfall & He Simu's Mercy

 

He Simu patted the battlement. "This city wall is truly sturdy."

So many people attacking the city had repeatedly failed, reduced to shouting abuse from below.

"The Shuozhou Prefecture city wall is one of the few remaining walls on the northern bank of the border river. When the Huqi people invaded, the previous dynasty relied on these fortifications to block the Huqi many times. After the Huqi took the seventeen prefectures on the northern bank, they resented this and ordered walls demolished everywhere. As a result, when the Danzhi Dynasty was first established, there were many rebellions. After the walls were demolished, rebel armies breached cities like bamboo splitting, and Danzhi finally stopped this order. The Shuozhou Prefecture wall was thus preserved." Duan Xu pulled He Simu back a bit from the battlement while explaining.

He Simu turned to look at him. "There were many rebellions when the Danzhi Dynasty was first established, but that was only about ten years ago. Now Danzhi seems quite peaceful."

"When the Han people rebelled against Danzhi, the Great Liang feared Danzhi yet remained comfortably isolated and did not respond. The people of the northern bank were naturally disappointed. The Huqi army was truly formidable, and the rebellions gradually subsided."

After a pause, Duan Xu lowered his eyes, his expression unclear. He smiled. "Isn't it the same now? Great Liang believes that with the border river as a natural barrier, they can rest easy without thinking about reclaiming the northern territories, let alone caring about the ancestral lands and people there. If not for the Huqi invasion, they would probably still be indulging in their grand dream of internal strife."

When he said these words, he seemed truly like a patriotic general whose lifelong wish was to reclaim the seventeen prefectures of the northern bank.

If he were the third-generation imperial scholar, the royal relative Duan family's third young master Duan Xu, then this wish would be perfectly normal. But considering his intricate relationship with the Danzhi, this wish made little sense.

He Simu pondered for a moment, then pointed at the enemy camp. "I think I just saw a soldier carrying a letter into the third tent on the southern side. I could see the characters on the envelope, but they were in Huqi script, which I can't read."

Duan Xu immediately beckoned for someone to bring a brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, asking He Simu to copy what she had seen.

He Simu rolled up her sleeves and quickly wrote several lines of flamboyant strange characters on the paper. When she finished and handed the paper to Duan Xu, a strange look flashed in his eyes. He raised his eyebrows and turned an inquiring gaze toward her.

He Simu carefully studied his expression, then burst into laughter.

"Hahaha, you do recognize this phrase."

The phrase was a Huqi insult, equivalent in Chinese to "you bastard turtle."

"From the highest Cang Yan scriptures to the basest street vulgarities, you know them all. General Duan is truly learned and talented. These things certainly aren't taught in the Southern Capital."

So far, his position, identity, and everything he said aroused suspicion.

Duan Xu's eyes flickered, knowing He Simu had just been testing him. He wasn't angry, but simply said, "That's a long story. One day when I was crossing a bridge, an old man deliberately threw his shoe down beneath the bridge and asked me to pick it up and put it on for him. This happened three times…"

This was certainly a familiar story.

He Simu's temple twitched, and she continued, "You did as asked each time, then he said you were teachable and told you to meet him on the bridge at dawn. But he always arrived first and scolded you, until one day you waited from midnight and finally arrived before him. Then he took out a copy of 'The Art of War by Taigong' and gave it to you?"

"It was 'The Cang Yan Scripture,'" Duan Xu corrected.

"I didn't know your name was Zhang Liang?"

"Hahahahaha." Duan Xu laughed while leaning against the city wall. He became slightly more serious. "But I did have a very formidable Huqi master. I suppose I was his most accomplished disciple."

"Oh, where is he now?"

"A goose pecked out his eyes, so he retired from public life."

"…"

He Simu felt that not half a word of truth came from this man's mouth. Duan Xunxi—he truly was ever-changing and unfathomable.

"What did you see just now? Did you not see anything?" Duan Xu brought the topic back on track.

"I saw that soldier enter the third camp on the left, but he wasn't carrying a letter—he was carrying several small red-tailed fish."

Duan Xu's gaze suddenly intensified. "The third camp on the left?"

"That's right." He Simu was puzzled by his sudden seriousness.

Duan Xu interlaced his fingers at his lips, thought for a moment, then smiled slightly and said softly, "He's there."

With that, he bowed to He Simu. "The young lady has good eyesight. Thank you."

He Simu didn't know how her statement had helped, but from Duan Xu's reaction, it seemed she had rendered great service. He even smiled warmly and offered to escort her back, suggesting that not only could he catch his breath these days, but he had some free time.

But as the saying goes, if you don't look for trouble, trouble finds you—usually bad trouble. Just as He Simu was walking with Duan Xu down from the city tower, she saw black smoke rising from within the city.

Duan Xu's expression suddenly changed. Commander Han rushed up from below with a grave expression. "General! The granary… the granary is on fire!"

Duan Xu swept aside his robe and quickly descended the stairs. As soon as his feet touched level ground, he grabbed the reins, stepped into the stirrup with his left foot, and mounted his horse in one fluid motion. His clothes fluttered as he galloped away, heading straight toward the granary.

All the soldiers stood dumbfounded, only able to watch him leave. Duan Xu's movements had been so incredibly fast that no one had time to react.

Only at times like this could He Simu see a glimpse of the real Duan Xu.

Whether the grain burned or not was truly inconsequential to He Simu, an evil ghost who ate people. By the time she leisurely went to join the commotion, the fire had been extinguished with only thick smoke remaining, and the arsonist who had set fire to the granary had already been caught. Soldiers had formed a circle to keep people away from the granary, but onlookers still packed tightly in layers three deep.

He Simu pushed through the crowd to look inside and saw that the culprit was a delicate woman.

The woman was about seventeen or eighteen years old, with a pretty face, though it was bruised black and blue. Half her hair had been shaved off, exposing her stark white scalp. Her clothes were made of fine material with exquisite patterns, but they were filthy and tattered, with cotton padding flying out from the splits. The entire person was the embodiment of "destitution."

He Simu put her hand to her mouth and asked an old man watching nearby, "Who is this?"

The old man replied, "Oh, don't you know? She's He Yan, the top courtesan from Qingyu Garden."

Being of an age that still loved watching such scenes, the old man was surely enthusiastic about gossip. Once he started talking, he continued with great interest.

According to the old man, He Yan had originally been a daughter of a wealthy family but had fallen on hard times and became a singing girl in a brothel. Because she was beautiful, literate, skilled in singing and dancing, and clever at manipulation, she quickly caught the eye of a Huqi noble. That aristocrat kept her in Shuozhou Prefecture city, providing her with food, clothing, servants, and a residence. Her patron was also on very good terms with the Danzhi royal court, and through this chain of connections, even the Governor dared not offend He Yan.

Having gained power, He Yan became imperious, using her influence to bully others. She tyrannized Shuozhou Prefecture City, acting with impunity, while the common people could only swallow their anger in the face of such powerful connections.

As a result, when the Great Liang army came, they not only drove away the Danzhi troops but also killed He Yan's patron who had been in the city at the time. He Yan suddenly lost her backing, and when the wall fell, everyone pushed. People came one after another to settle old and new scores, each taking a turn to trample her.

"She was driven onto the streets, and the women from Qingyu Garden all looked down on her, spat at her, and even caught her and shaved half her head. She had no choice but to pick up her old trade, but looking like this, how many clients would want her? It's truly karmic retribution, payback in this lifetime!"

He Simu thought of the massive army outside the city and wondered if the city's residents could maintain such toughness if they saw that the Huqi people were poised to return.

"Before, in Shuozhou Prefecture city, was she the only one who used the Huqi people's influence to oppress others? You single her out as a target because she's the easiest to bully, a woman of low status?"

Just as He Simu finished speaking, He Yan, lying on the ground, began to laugh softly. Her slender arms propped up her body as she raised her chin. With disheveled hair and bruised eyes, her expression was near madness.

"Why do you all come to humiliate me? Why! What did I do wrong? I just wanted a better life, to be less miserable. If not the Huqi people, who could I rely on? Being Han means being worthless, going hungry, and being bullied, which means a life worth no more than a few sheep. If you had the chance to curry favor with Huqi masters, wouldn't you? How does the Lin family do business in the prefecture without currying favor with the Huqi? I did nothing wrong!"

Under Danzhi rule, people were divided into four classes, with the Han people—who had once most fiercely resisted Danzhi—being the lowest fourth class, bearing the heaviest taxes, with strict limitations on weapons, and lives as cheap as cattle and sheep. As a "fourth-class citizen," He Yan was naturally resentful.

He Yan glared at the surrounding crowd of onlookers and said viciously, "You're all waiting to see me make a fool of myself, you all want me to die. Dream on! If I die, we all die together!"

He Simu was silent for a moment, then added to the old man, "However, with a mouth like that, she certainly deserves some of what she got."

Just as He Yan was hysterically shouting, Lin Jun, who had been standing in front of the granary, walked over and swung his hand, giving her a slap across the face.

This burned granary was the charity storehouse built by the Lin family. The Lin family were rice merchants, and most of the grain for the Tabai Army entering the prefecture came from the Lin family's charity storehouse. Later, when the Tabai Army merged and entered the prefecture, the provisions they brought were also stored in the Lin family's charity storehouse.

Today, with He Yan's fire, who knew how much had been burned?

When she had seen Lin Jun rushing over earlier, his face was pale and his breathing erratic. Now he was trembling with anger. After striking He Yan, he pointed at her and said harshly, "Yes, that's right. My Lin family bowed and scraped, flattering and pleasing, just to earn a few stinking coins under the Huqi people's noses. I find it disgusting. You and I are both like this—don't you want to hold your head high as a person? Are the Huqi people born noble?"

He Yan's lips bled from the blow. She raised her head and looked at Lin Jun hatefully. "Hold my head high? Who am I, and who are you? Once I entered the brothel, could I ever hold my head high again in this life? Both Han and Huqi look down on me anyway. People climb high, water flows low—naturally, I go where prosperity leads!"

"You!" Lin Jun pointed at her, his previously pale face now red with anger, unable to utter another word.

Duan Xu patted Lin Jun's shoulder, calming him down. He bent down to look into He Yan's eyes and said calmly, "How did you trick the guards to get into the granary?"

He Yan lowered her head and laughed sinisterly. "What about the guards? Guards are men too."

The old man watching nearby, finding a secret he knew about, whispered to He Simu, "Today's granary duty officer, young Xie, had been intimate with He Yan for a time. He probably felt compassion for her, not knowing this woman would be so deranged."

Duan Xu's gaze slowly darkened as he looked at He Yan without speaking. Under Duan Xu's substantial gaze, He Yan shrank back a little, then suddenly became even more frenzied. She laughed and cried simultaneously, tears flowing from her bruised and swollen eyes, both comical and pitiful.

"You high and mighty people… even if I die, I won't let you go! I'll become a vengeful ghost and haunt you all!"

She suddenly rushed toward the granary wall, as if to dash her head against it and die.

Duan Xu made no move to stop her, but in an instant, a figure ran out from the crowd, swept past him, and drew the Powangjian sword from his waist. Amid the flash of cold light, the person grabbed He Yan just before she crashed into the wall.

Then, the sword in that person's hand changed direction, precisely and without hesitation slicing He Yan's throat, spattering blood everywhere.

In the silence of the crowd, He Simu held the Powangjian sword as He Yan fell to the ground, blood dripping along the blade into the pool flowing from her body.

Want to become a vengeful ghost? Better not.

Honestly, she had no objection to He Yan seeking death, but she had strong opinions about her dying words hoping to become an evil ghost.

This crazed girl, heavy with resentment and deep with knots—if she died by suicide, would inevitably become a wandering soul, and after a hundred years or so, very likely transform into an evil ghost.

But so what if He Yan wanted to become an evil ghost? Did it matter whether He Simu was willing to accept her? Such troublesome subjects were best kept to a minimum.

The Powangjian sword was primarily merciful—it was a sword that both killed and delivered people. Those killed by it had their resentment dispersed, immediately passing on to the next life without becoming wandering souls.

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