The third son and youngest scion of General Xie of the Southern Sect, Xie Chengqing, had returned to a world rife with turmoil. The Beiyang faction was fractured, and the southern faction teetered on the edge of chaos, each group pursuing its own agenda. Generals who once swore loyalty to save the country now only sought personal glory, craving dominion over cities and estates.
Yet in a time of blurred morality, there remained a rare breed of commanders: men with ambition tempered by righteousness, who sought not only personal gain but the revival of China itself. General Xie belonged to this latter group, embodying both integrity and strategic brilliance.
He Wei had admired such men quietly, from the bottom of her heart.
The reputation of Xie Chengqing’s family was formidable, but it was the legacy of sacrifice that truly commanded respect. Both his uncle and elder brothers had perished defending the nation, leaving only him as the surviving heir. Though his family’s prominence brought prestige, it had exacted the ultimate cost: the lives of those closest to him. Admirers sighed at the tales of valor, skeptics whispered with envy, yet all recognized the merit of such loyalty.
And Xie Chengqing himself—his journey had been remarkable. Orphaned in courage but not in spirit, he could not stand idly by. Sent to study at the Baoding Military Academy, he disappeared during the Wuchang Uprising to join the army incognito. With genius unmatched in strategy and troop deployment, he repeatedly outmaneuvered the Qing forces, paving the way for the Xinhai Revolution’s triumph. Months later, he returned quietly, his absence explained only by necessity.
Upon graduation, he stayed under strict academy supervision, until urgent word arrived: his family required him in Yunnan and Guizhou, besieged on three sides by formidable forces. Rising to the occasion, he led decisive campaigns, cementing his fame as the major general of consecutive victories. Yet even in glory, Xie Chengqing vanished once more.
For He Wei, it was today—the first moment she learned of his whereabouts since his disappearance nine years ago. She had been merely eight when he left. Only Bai Jinxing’s timely revelation had brought him to her attention.
“He…” she began, uncertain.
“Many have asked me that same question since my arrival in Beijing,” Bai Jinxing smiled gently. Rumors had claimed assassination, defeat, even death at the hands of old enemies—but here he was, alive, seated calmly in the western chamber.
Seeing her hesitation, Bai Jinxing instructed, “Since it is he, do not greet him lightly. Buckle Qing.”
Soon, Kou Qing appeared, carrying a cocoa milk jar. “He… requested cocoa milk,” he announced. Bai Jinxing nodded; the drink was both warming and a subtle act of hospitality.
With signal from Bai Jinxing, the two settled into chairs. Tea arrived, served efficiently by Jun Jiang, who left behind a quiet, enclosed space, perfect for conversation. Bai Jinxing, ever practical, explained the background: a childhood marriage contract bound them, yet Xie Chengqing’s heart remained committed to the nation.
“I’ve always sought ways to save the country,” he said slowly. “Even now, leading troops in my own lands, I feel as though nothing has been truly accomplished.”
He Wei listened, noting his solemnity. She understood the fragmentation, the suffering of people struggling amidst ceaseless conflict. The conversation deepened, touching on wartime struggles, Germany as a potential haven for strategy and learning, and the difficult balance between duty and personal life.
“I want to know if you are willing to go to Germany with me,” Bai Jinxing asked softly, presenting both an offer and a chance for reflection.
He Wei hesitated, recognizing both the practicality and emotional weight of the proposal. The journey was feasible for her, with her family’s resources, yet it was not merely logistics—it was destiny, patience, and choice all interwoven.
Bai Jinxing, sensing her turmoil, suggested a period of mutual acquaintance: one month of friendship and understanding, giving space before final decisions were required. He Wei nodded, relief and clarity mingling in her mind.
As silence fell, conversation shifted to lighter topics: the northwest, the journey, amusing incidents on the road. Slowly, barriers broke, laughter and familiarity flowing between them. He Wei began to sense Xie Chengqing’s human warmth beneath his austere exterior.
Finally, Bai Jinxing called Xie Chengqing, who had been enjoying cocoa milk. His steps were measured, his posture still carrying the discipline of a seasoned general, yet softened by the warmth of snow and tea. He chose the seat farthest from He Wei, yet his presence was commanding, observant, and respectful.
“I am nominally a guest in Beijing,” he confessed, “but in reality… a hostage.” His honesty struck her: despite years of service, accolades, and battlefield triumphs, he bore no airs, only the weight of duty.
He explained the political maneuverings: how his return allowed his sister and nephew safe passage from Beijing, how he had navigated the complexities of familial duty and national unrest. Bai Jinxing recounted the extravagant yet strategic entertainment aimed to persuade him. Together, they unraveled intentions, clarified misunderstandings, and forged a tentative understanding.
The snow had ceased, leaving a crystalline calm outside. He Wei, clad in milky-white robes accented with a blue satin belt, appeared youthful and serene, a quiet contrast to the formidable general beside her. Side by side, they stepped outside, greeted by adjutants and letters, each gesture revealing the intricate balance between duty, loyalty, and emerging bonds of trust.
For He Wei, the events of today clarified much: Xie Chengqing’s actions, though seemingly austere or calculated, were consistent.
It couldn't be more reasonable. She told herself.
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