Chapter 47

Early the next morning, Wei Jing silently turned over and got out of bed without needing any attendant. He crept as he dressed and washed up, then turned back to tuck in his wife’s quilt before stepping out the door. He led his men straight toward the suburban military camp.

After securing his position in Gaoling, Wei Jing valued the two large camps on the city’s outskirts, which had recently seen frequent activity.

The east and west camps permanently housed 60,000 county soldiers. Their spacious design meant that if additional troops were needed in the future, further expansion wouldn’t even be necessary.

“Have our men been settled in properly?” he asked.

Riding his horse out of the south city gate, Wei Jing inquired of Han Xi, who was closely by his side—he was referring to the Qingzhai Guards.

Following the collapse of Dong Du’s faction, many of the generals under Wei Jing’s command were also purged. Not only did the camp have many vacant positions, but the slots for soldiers lost in battle also needed to be filled.

With plenty of vacancies to fill, Wei Jing took the opportunity to incorporate the 4,000 county soldiers from the Qingzhai Guards and the Pingtao County barracks.

Pingtao—Wei Jing’s first stronghold—was admittedly a bit small, but since it was now in his possession, he wouldn’t discard it. It was currently governed by Zhuang Wei, the brother of Zhuang Yan, who served as county magistrate; as for the county barracks, their command was entrusted to Deng Guang’s cousin, one of Wei Jing’s formerly loyal commanders.

After Deng Guang and Han Xi carried out orders to subdue the retreating Pu tribe, both the Qingzhai Guards and the 4,000 county soldiers were immediately incorporated into the Gaoling camp.

With the Pu tribe gone and the Yi tribe having reconciled, the Pingtao County barracks naturally no longer needed so many permanently stationed county soldiers. Of the first batch of trusted soldiers who had been gradually trained, Wei Jing, of course, wouldn’t discard them—he brought them over directly. The remaining one thousand were those who found it nearly impossible to leave their native lands; since the county barracks were now organized for two thousand soldiers, any shortfall would be filled by recruiting more through Zhuang Wei.

Han Xi clasped his hands and said, “Reporting to you, my lord, everything has been arranged properly.”

According to Wei Jing’s plan, the forces were organized into three battalions: the Qingzhai Guards were to remain intact, while the county soldiers were formed into a single battalion of 2,000.

Then, in a lowered voice, Han Xi added, “The granary in the western suburb has also been arranged properly.”

He was referring to the large, naturally formed granary that had originally been taken over from Qu Cheng. It was an excellent spot—both advantageous and concealed. Even before Han Xi set out to subdue the Pu, Wei Jing had already ordered men to secretly station there.

The seven or eight company commanders who had known about the granary at the outset had now become steadfast loyalists and had all come to Gaoling; nobody in Pingtao knew about it anymore, which made it easy to manage.

Wei Jing nodded.

Indeed, with everything in Pingtao in proper order and Gaoling steadily coming under control, the next step was to develop this area into a new stronghold quickly.

One must be grateful to Dong Du—his long-term hold over a vast region had conveniently allowed Wei Jing to deploy his men in large numbers.

However, there were still some anticipated troubles that needed to be resolved.

Wei Jing then led Han Xi, Ji Huan, and others as they arrived at the suburban grand camp.

The lingering traces of internal strife had faded. The main camp was orderly, and the county soldiers were of decent quality. It was drill time on the training ground—formations shifted without delay, thrusts were forceful, and the synchronized war cries were impressive.

Wei Jing was rather satisfied. With a bit more training, they would prove serviceable.

The exercise finally ended, and the inspection was drawing to a close. At that moment, however, a robust warrior stepped forward, performed a military salute, and declared loudly, “I have heard that your martial prowess is extraordinary and his valor unmatched. I deeply admire it and hope that you will kindly impart your teachings!”

This man was Fan Qing, the younger brother of Fan Ya. After speaking, he glanced over the generals behind Wei Jing—Zhang Yong, Chen Qi, and others—with his eyes lingering on Chen Qi for a moment.

In truth, his words were a challenge—but not directed at Wei Jing himself; they were aimed at his trusted subordinates.

This was not unexpected. Wei Jing had leaped from county magistrate to prefect by such a vast margin that it wasn’t merely his own merits—but his matchless bravery in turning the tide during the civil war and being chosen by Second Master He that had won everyone’s respect.

However, the promotions of generals like Zhang Yong, Chen Qi, and Deng Guang did not command the same admiration. Especially Chen Qi, who had remained behind in Pingtao during the civil war and was thus considered part of the “parachute” faction.

“I’ve slogged for over a decade to attain this position—do you really think it’s just a matter of luck, of aligning with the right person? When you’re dissatisfied, the military camp settles things in a straightforward, crude manner: a challenge. If you defeat me, I’ll submit.”

Everyone present knew exactly what was going on. Chen Qi stepped forward immediately and snorted coldly, “A mere rash general—let me come instead. Why should my lord be receiving instruction from you?!”

The soldiers skillfully cleared an open space, and the two mounted on their horses with their troops, immediately engaging in battle.

Chen Qi was lean and nimble, while Fan Qing was imposing and strong—the two clearly differed by a class. Yet a true expert’s move reveals the truth. The seemingly slender Chen Qi bellowed and brought down a sword slash aimed at the head; Fan Qing parried with his broad blade, but the force of the blow left his “tiger head” nearly numb, and before he could recover, his great sword almost slipped from his grasp.

A round of cheers suddenly erupted from all around.

Fan Qing paused in astonishment, then roared, “Excellent! Such formidable martial skill—if you defeat me, I yield to you!”

Though a bit headstrong—disregarding his elder brother’s protests and insisting on the challenge—Fan Qing was an upright man. After about twenty rounds in which he was bested, he dismounted, patted Chen Qi’s shoulder vigorously, and said, “Clearly, you’re better than me. You deserve the title of military marquis—I submit!”

Thunderous applause filled the air. After that splendid duel, not only Fan Qing but many of the other generals in the main camp regarded Chen Qi, Zhang Yong, and their cohorts with changed eyes, their doubts dispelled.

“Fan Ya.” Wei Jing, who had been watching with his arms folded, found the moment fitting. He turned to Fan Ya and said, “Recently, I recommended you for the position of county commandant; today, the official appointment has been issued.”

He patted Fan Ya on the shoulder and added, “In the future, you will need to put in a lot of effort.”

Fan Ya was a reliable man; having long held a position as a military officer, he commanded widespread respect and was just the man to help Wei Jing swiftly win over the hearts and minds of all factions.

For a moment, Fan Ya was stunned. Then, his face lit up with emotion as he immediately knelt on one knee and declared, “I will not let you down!”

“Very well!” Wei Jing personally helped him to his feet and then surveyed everyone around him. “The affairs of the main camp are complex. We still require all of you to work together in unity.”

With Chen Qi’s abilities perfectly matching his station at the front and Fan Ya being candidly appointed at the rear, all the generals—high-ranking and junior alike—were thoroughly convinced. In unison, they resolutely declared, “We shall surely not disgrace your mandate!”

After handling all the affairs of the main camp, Wei Jing turned back to the city.

Ji Huan pinched his beard and said, “It seems that the East and West camps have been mostly sorted out.”

In recent days, one of his important tasks has been, taking advantage of the personnel changes, vigorously purging the remaining forces of Dong Du—that is, those of Third Master He.

Wei Jing nodded. “In the future, when the opportunity arises, we can purge them again.” The East and West camps must be managed as if they were an extension of one’s own arm.

The host and guest exchanged a knowing glance, each understanding that he was referring to the major upheaval that would occur next year.

After such a long period of busy work, Gaoling—and even Anyang County—had been successfully secured, and everyone was in high spirits. At that moment, having already passed the busiest section of the bluestone street, Ji Huan was about to urge his horse to speed up when his lord suddenly reined it in. He was surprised.

Wei Jing had dismounted and was striding toward a nearby study; Ji Huan quickly followed.

“Madam has only just recovered from her illness and should not be overexerted. It is the perfect time to peruse some miscellaneous books to dispel her boredom.”

As Wei Jing entered, he casually glanced around before heading straight for the cabinet dedicated to supernatural tales and assorted anecdotes. Seeing the astonishment on Ji Huan’s face, he offhandedly remarked something, then lowered his head to concentrate on selecting books for her according to Shao Qing’s instructions from the day before.

Ji Huan suddenly realized—with a laugh—that only Madam could get his lord so earnestly involved in selecting leisure reading. He smiled and said, “The profound love between my lord and madam is truly enviable.”

“Again with ‘profound love’?” Wei Jing’s hand, which had been flipping through a book, paused. The term was both unfamiliar and yet strangely familiar; it struck him as familiar because he recalled that not long ago in Pingtao, Zhuang Yan had once used it. He had never expected such a phrase to be applied to himself, which made an especially deep impression on him.

After more than two months, hearing it again from Ji Huan—who had spent years reclusive in the mountains, rarely concerning himself with mundane matters—Wei Jing was momentarily stunned as always.

Love?

He let the unfamiliar word roll between his lips, and oddly enough, the awkward entanglement he had felt last time was no longer there.

Although barely a little over two months had passed, he and Shaoqing had already experienced so much together—ups and downs, heartfelt laughter and tears—as if they had lived lifetimes apart. What stayed constant, however, was their inseparable closeness, always hand in hand.

From Pingtao to Gaoling—and it will continue that way.

He and Ah Qing had weathered every storm side by side; how could they be compared to the ordinary couples dwelling in sumptuous mansions? After all, isn’t love itself something to be cherished?

This thought crept up from somewhere, and strangely, Wei Jing found he wasn’t opposed to it. He paused briefly, then resumed carefully selecting books without contradicting Ji Huan’s words.

Methodically, he picked out numerous storytelling manuscripts for Shao Qing—quirky tales, bizarre anecdotes, unorthodox travel diaries, and even romantic stories of talented scholars and beautiful ladies. Clutching a large bundle of casual, miscellaneous books that he had never touched before—and which were utterly at odds with his own image—he paid the bill under the study shopkeeper’s somewhat peculiar gaze.

When leaving, as he passed a small stall selling various puppet toys, he took a couple of steps forward, then turned back. His eyes settled on a set of twelve zodiac puppets displayed at the stall.

The puppets were only about the size of three fingers, with heads even larger than their bodies. They were carved with a charming smile, and their necks could move—toss one slightly, and it would nod continuously.

He recalled that Shao Qing also had a set just like these. Back in Pingtao, she had bought them at the market and taken quite a liking to them; she used to arrange an entire row on her dressing table, prodding them with her ever-childlike wonder whenever she had a spare moment.
Unfortunately, she had come to Gaoling in such a hurry that she hadn’t brought them along.

He dropped a fragment of silver and said, “Wrap up these puppets for me.”

…

Thus, Shao Qing was delightfully surprised to discover that she had received a gift.

That evening, Wei Jing returned to the room carrying a hefty blue cloth package. Shao Qing glanced at it and thought, “Hmm, judging by its shape, these must be the books I’ve been wanting.”

“So many?”

There were as many as thirty or forty books—a huge bundle that was hard to miss—and no wonder he struggled carrying it all the way. Just as Shao Qing leaned over to open it, she discovered a small package wrapped in oiled paper still clinging to the edge of the large parcel.

“Eh, what’s this?”

When Shao Qing opened it, she found a brand-new set of twelve zodiac puppets—cute little figurines with oversized heads and small bodies in a playful style. Although the design was familiar, this was an entirely new set.

As casual as ever, Wei Jing said, “I saw these at the bookstore and bought them. Don’t you like them?”

“I do!” Shao Qing carefully arranged the puppets in a row and gave them a poke. The big-headed rabbit looked adorably clumsy, its head bobbing about with a merry little clatter. She had always loved these little trinkets—even in a past life, receiving gifts always brought joy. Turning toward him with a wink and drawing out her tone playfully, she said, “My husband, you’re so wonderful.”

Today, she was dressed in a pink skirt, her dark hair swept up into an elegant snake bun. Lustrous beads nestled among her ebony locks caught the light subtly, complementing the two ivory-hued pearl earrings dangling from her earlobes. Delicate and charming, when she turned to look at him, her eyes curved with a smile brighter than the sunshine.

Wei Jing’s heart lit up as he replied, “If you like it, that’s all that matters.”

After gazing at her for a moment, stirred by emotion, he moved closer and sat beside her. Leaning in, Wei Jing kissed her.

Shao Qing blinked but offered no refusal.

Since they performed the marriage ritual until now, they have kissed each other many times—gentle pecks even evolving into deep kisses. She has come to accept the idea that Wei Jing is her husband, and psychologically, it no longer feels awkward.

The overwhelming masculine aura—rich and familiar—accompanies the meeting of their soft lips. Shao Qing holds her breath, her eyelashes trembling as she closes her eyes. Instinctively, her hands move forward—not to push Wei Jing away, but rather to clutch the lapel of his garment. After a brief pause, she slowly lets go, allowing him to hold her tightly.

Gentle touches and tender licks ensue, and eventually, the kiss deepens, moving nimbly between her lips and teeth—both cherished and passionate. In her blurred, dazed state, Shao Qing feels as if this kiss is somehow a little different from before.

……………………

The author has a note: “Classmate Wei is finally no longer awkward, haha. Hehe, he’ll soon finish his mourning period~”