The Blood Crown - Chapter 298

“Grand Tutor Yan, Grand Tutor Yan?”

 

Yan Sikong, who had been sleeping in the carriage, opened his eyes. At some point, the carriage had stopped. Through the slit in the curtain, he could see light streaming in, signaling that it was nearing dusk.

 

The voice belonged to Shen Hexuan’s student, Fu Zhanqing. Yan Sikong said indifferently, “What is it?”

 

“The weather is getting colder. I’ve brought thicker bedding and clothing for you, sir.”

 

“Come in,” Yan Sikong said. His hands and feet were bound, so he propped himself up with his elbows, struggling to sit upright.

 

The door of the carriage, which had been locked, was opened from the outside. Fu Zhanqing entered, carrying a thick pile of items. Seeing Yan Sikong huddled in a corner, he respectfully asked, “May I lay out the bedding for you, sir?”

 

“Go ahead.”

 

Fu Zhanqing unfolded the bedding and patiently spread it out in the carriage, tucking in the edges and smoothing the surface. His serious yet clumsy movements clearly showed he was unaccustomed to such tasks.

 

Yan Sikong couldn’t help but tease, “Which noble family’s young master are you, to have ended up following Shen Hexuan, that block of wood?”

 

Fu Zhanqing smiled. “My father is a cloth merchant from Jiangnan. Since I was young, he hoped I would pass the imperial examinations and bring glory to our family. The traveling physician who saved my teacher is an old friend of my father’s, and my father has always admired my teacher’s reputation. Becoming his student is a great honor for me.”

 

“A cloth merchant? From the Fu family of Luan Embroidery Workshop?” That was a famous textile house in Jiangnan.

 

“Exactly.”

 

Yan Sikong chuckled. “Your father is wealthy and powerful. You could have lived a carefree life. Why bother stepping into the murky and dangerous waters of officialdom?”

 

“When the nation is in peril, every man has a duty. With the country in such turmoil, I hope to follow my teacher and dedicate my intellect and loyalty to the nation.”

 

“Young people with such aspirations, good, very good.” A trace of melancholy appeared on Yan Sikong’s face. Born into a scholarly family, his father had regarded entering government service and sacrificing for the country as the highest ideal. Yan Sikong himself had been raised with the same belief. Yet, he wondered if his father, exiled from his homeland and dying on the streets, had ever resented the Chen dynasty emperor he had been so willing to serve.

 

Yan Sikong’s face was partly obscured in the dim light, slightly indistinct. But his eyes, like stars in the heavens, shone brightly. The shadows cast by his brow and nose resembled mountain ranges lying across the earth, an unparalleled beauty that took one’s breath away.

 

Fu Zhanqing stared at Yan Sikong, entranced.

 

Suddenly, Yan Sikong raised his eyes to look at Fu Zhanqing, causing the latter to flinch and lower his head.

 

“How did you recognize me?”

 

“I had been blending in among the horse healers for seven days. My teacher, unable to travel himself, described your figure, appearance, and demeanor in detail. Most importantly, I had to truly know how to treat horses.” Fu Zhanqing paused, then added, “I’ve also seen your portrait, but…”

 

“But what?”

 

Fu Zhanqing said softly, “But it doesn’t compare to seeing you in person.”

 

“Oh.” Yan Sikong smirked self-deprecatingly. “Was it the bounty portrait you saw?”

 

Fu Zhanqing looked a bit embarrassed. “You are different from the rumors, sir.”

 

“How so?”

 

“The rumors…” Fu Zhanqing sneaked a glance at Yan Sikong, feeling his cheeks grow hot, “…do not capture the truth. Sir, it’s best you don’t pay them any mind.”

 

“The rumors say I am insidious, cunning, opportunistic, and use my looks to curry favor, correct?”

 

Fu Zhanqing said nothing, lowering his head.

 

“It’s fine. I’ve heard it all before,” Yan Sikong said lightly.

 

“Are you hungry, sir? Shall I have dinner brought over?”

 

“Alright.”

 

“Sir…”

 

“You’ve studied under Shen Hexuan, yet you don’t seem as rigid as he is.” Yan Sikong smiled faintly. “What, are you curious about me?”

 

Fu Zhanqing replied, somewhat shyly, “You are a figure renowned across the land. That you’re willing to speak to me is an honor.”

 

“I’m a notorious traitor and rebel. What kind of honor could that be?”

 

“I…” Fu Zhanqing’s gaze flickered. “I used to believe the rumors and thought poorly of you, sir. But my teacher often speaks of you, and after meeting you, I’m even more convinced that your actions are not driven by selfish motives.”

 

Yan Sikong stared at Fu Zhanqing for a moment before sighing softly. “It’s rare for someone as perceptive as you.”

 

Fu Zhanqing smiled.

 

Recalling the past, Yan Sikong couldn’t help but laugh. “Back then, we were all students of others. Now, he has become a teacher himself.”

 

“My teacher and you both studied under Grand Chancellor Yan Zilian. I pale in comparison.”

 

“You are probably more favored by your teacher than your teacher was by ours. My teacher admired Shen Hexuan’s talents but often criticized his rigidity and inflexibility. However, for him to have chosen someone as sharp and clever as you as his student, it seems he’s truly grown wiser over the years.” Yan Sikong sneered. “But how do you tolerate him, hmm?”

 

Fu Zhanqing answered earnestly, “My teacher taught me, ‘If one is upright, their commands are followed without being issued; if one is not upright, their commands are not followed even when issued.’ My teacher leads by example, in both his conduct and governance. To me, he is a model for the world. If I can emulate even a fraction of his ways, it will be enough for a lifetime.”

 

“Shen Hexuan is lucky to have a student like you,” Yan Sikong said with emotion, for he couldn’t help but think of his own only student, now turned against him.

 

—

 

After a month of travel, they finally arrived in Guangning.

 

At this moment, Guangning had already implemented a scorched-earth defense strategy, with the entire city on high alert. Both entering and leaving the city required rigorous questioning to prevent spies from slipping through.

 

Yan Sikong gazed at the towering walls and deep trenches of the city from afar, a hint of daze in his eyes. Was this his Guangning? The Guangning he remembered had been a small city, modest and unassuming. Now, it bore no trace of what it had been twenty years ago.

 

Back then, he and Yuan Mao had stood on those very city walls, thrice repelling Jin forces numbering a hundred thousand. That small city of Guangning had resonated across the land. Yet, while Yuan Mao could drive out external enemies, he could not guard against internal betrayal. He could protect the forty thousand civilians and soldiers of Guangning, but he could not save his own small family.

 

How many of the people of Guangning now still remembered the bloody battle from twenty years ago? How many still remembered Yuan Mao?

 

Yan Sikong alighted from the carriage. Shen Hexuan sat in a wheelchair, being pushed by Fu Zhanqing until they stopped in front of him. “I’ve already sent a confidential letter to General Liang, informing him of my arrival in Guangning, but I did not mention you.”

 

Yan Sikong understood Shen Hexuan’s caution. Twenty years had passed. Even if Liang Huiyong still remembered him, he was no longer the second son of the Yuan family but a criminal and a traitor reviled by all. There was no telling how Liang Huiyong would react upon seeing him.

 

Yan Sikong nodded. “When I meet General Liang, I’ll explain myself.”

 

Shen Hexuan gestured to Fu Zhanqing, who said, “Remove the Grand Tutor’s restraints.”

 

The guards unlocked the shackles on Yan Sikong’s hands and feet.

 

“To keep a low profile while entering the city, we’ll grant you temporary freedom,” Shen Hexuan said, fixing Yan Sikong with a piercing stare. “But don’t even think about escaping—the guards will be watching you closely.”

 

Yan Sikong stretched his long-constrained limbs, feeling as though they no longer belonged to him, stiff and aching. “I came to Guangning of my own volition. Now that Guangning is right before me, where would I escape to?”

 

“Fine. Let’s enter the city.”

 

The group, disguised as cloth merchants, successfully made their way in.

 

At this moment, Yan Sikong truly understood the meaning of “the closer to home, the more apprehensive one feels.” As he listened to the familiar Liaodong accents and took in the familiar streetscape, memories from his youth flooded back, nearly overwhelming him. He remembered darting through these streets countless times, remembered where to buy rice, where to listen to operas, and where traveling merchants from other regions hawked their curiosities. In those days, he and Yuan Nanyu had run through every inch of the small city of Guangning on foot. To them, Guangning was the entire world.

 

And his “world” had indeed collapsed in Guangning—on the day his adoptive father was sent to the execution ground.

 

Returning to this land, so full of love and hate for him, Yan Sikong was overcome with emotion.

 

They found an inn and decided to rest for a while.

 

Yan Sikong requested the innkeeper to bring hot water and took a thorough bath.

 

The inn, now somewhat old and worn, had been Guangning’s largest twenty years ago. He and Yuan Nanyu used to run to the front of the inn, imitating the waiters by shouting in high-pitched voices, “Room number one, two honored guests!” Then they would flee amid the shopkeeper’s curses, laughing all the way.

 

He wondered if his Yu’er still remembered.

 

After his bath, Yan Sikong changed into clean clothes and felt an urge to stroll through the city. Too many vivid memories surged in his mind, urging him to seek out the places from those times.

 

But as soon as he opened the door, a guard blocked his way.

 

“I wish to see Master Shen.”

 

“Please wait a moment, sir.” The guard went to report.

 

Before long, Fu Zhanqing arrived. “Grand Tutor, what do you need?”

 

“I’d like to take a walk around the city to ease my nostalgia,” Yan Sikong said.

 

Fu Zhanqing replied gently, “My teacher would not approve.”

 

“You can follow me. I’ll only stay on this street—I won’t go far.”

 

Fu Zhanqing hesitated before saying, “Then I will accompany the Grand Tutor. The guards can follow at a distance, and we’ll stay on this street.”

 

“Thank you.” Yan Sikong stepped forward without delay.

 

“Wait.” Fu Zhanqing fixed his gaze on Yan Sikong’s face. “Please make some disguises, sir.”

 

“I’ve been gone for twenty years. No one will recognize me.”

 

Fu Zhanqing continued to stare at him without blinking. “Your appearance is extraordinary. It’s bound to attract attention.”

 

Left with no choice, Yan Sikong donned a hat and affixed a fake beard.

 

“After you, sir.”

 

The two descended the stairs with several guards trailing behind. They strolled along the street outside the inn, the main thoroughfare of Guangning, still the busiest part of the city.

 

Two decades had wrought great changes, altering the appearance of the street significantly. Yan Sikong’s memory was so sharp he could almost recreate the old scene in his mind. He pointed to the shops. “This used to be a rice shop. That one sold shoes, and the one over there was a tofu mill. That section is new—it used to be empty.”

 

Fu Zhanqing listened attentively. “You remember so clearly, sir.”

 

“I walked this street countless times as a boy…” Yan Sikong craned his neck to look ahead. “At the end of the street, there was a bun shop called Blind Zhang’s Buns, a long-standing Guangning establishment. My father often bought us buns there.” His steps slowed as he spoke, fearing that reaching the end of the street would reveal the bun shop gone.

 

“It seems to still be there.” Fu Zhanqing, seeing through Yan Sikong’s thoughts, squinted into the distance. “Shall we go take a look?”

 

They walked over and indeed saw the shop’s flag still hanging from the small building. Yan Sikong’s face lit up with joy, even excitement. “It’s still there. The bun shop is still there.” He quickened his pace.

 

Before they even approached, the enticing aroma of buns wafted into their noses, making mouths water. Yan Sikong entered the shop and looked around. The interior hadn’t changed much, and for a moment, it felt as though he had truly returned to twenty years ago.

 

Fu Zhanqing pulled out a pouch of silver and bought several types of buns. “We can bring some back for the teacher to try.”

 

Yan Sikong picked up a freshly steamed pork bun, his favorite from back then. It was still hot, almost scalding to the touch. The warmth in his hands drove away the winter chill. Trembling, he brought it to his mouth and took a big bite.

 

The savory flavor stirred long-buried memories. In his mind’s eye, he saw the harmonious scenes from his days at the Yuan household. His entire body trembled, his eyes filling with tears, though he held them back.

 

He had returned to his homeland, but he no longer had a home.

 

In this vast world, Yan Sikong had no place to call home.

 

Fu Zhanqing watched Yan Sikong’s teary-eyed expression and felt an awkward unease.

 

Lowering his head, Yan Sikong walked out of the bun shop.

 

“Sir,” Fu Zhanqing called as he caught up, “if you like the buns…”

 

“Let’s go back to the inn,” Yan Sikong said softly.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Let’s go back to the inn,” he repeated. He could not go further. Beyond this street, just one turn away, lay the execution ground where Yuan Mao had fallen—a nightmare that marked the beginning of his lifetime of torment. He wasn’t ready to face it.

 

“…Alright.”

 

The two retraced their steps. As they passed by a large tree, a group of children was playing around an old well beneath it, chanting a nursery rhyme.

 

At first, they paid it no mind, but as they walked past and the words “The Three Lords Ride the Walls, Yan the Traitor Sikong” reached his ears, Yan Sikong froze.

 

Fu Zhanqing heard it too. His expression darkened. “Sir, let’s head back to the inn.”

 

But Yan Sikong stopped in his tracks.