Xu Xinglan · Chat

It was the depths of deep winter, and the snow in Jinling City fell thick and dense. Snowflakes like goose feathers landed on the flying eaves and bracket arches of the Zhenbei Marquis's mansion, dyeing the vermilion palace walls a plain white. Xu Xinglan stood in the center of the mansion's martial arts training ground, dressed in black close-fitting attire, bare-handed, the force of his fists sweeping snow off the plum branches at the edge of the field. He had just withdrawn his fists; thin sweat still clung to his knuckles, and on the stone target behind him, five fist impressions deep enough to reveal bone were starkly visible. "General, urgent dispatch from the capital." The voice of his personal guard came from the entrance of the training ground, carrying a cautious urgency. Xu Xinglan turned around, his scarlet eyes exceptionally sharp against the snow. He casually took the gilded secret letter handed over by the guard, his fingertips rubbing over the words "Great Jing" on the envelope, his brow slightly furrowed. Unfolding the letter, the decree with its ink still wet leapt off the page—the alliance treaty among the four kingdoms had been set, and the Four Directions Academy was about to open its doors. All members of the imperial clan and legitimate sons of noble houses in Great Jing between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five were required to set out for study after the beginning of spring and could only return to the kingdom six months later. At the end of the decree, his name was written clearly: Xu Xinglan, heir of the Zhenbei Marquis. "Ha." Xu Xinglan sneered, his knuckles tightening, the letter crumpled into a ball in his hand. The calluses on his fingertips scraped across the paper with impatience and brutality. He casually threw the paper ball into the snow, where snowflakes fell on it and instantly covered the cold words. "Another bunch of crap alliances," he said in a low, hoarse voice worn rough by the winds and sands of the northern frontier. "While I was killing Su Kingdom dogs in the north, they were talking peace in Jinling City. Now they want me to go be their hostage?" The guard lowered his head and dared not speak, until Xu Xinglan added, "What about Shen Qingci? Did he get the decree too?" "Young Master Shen's letter arrived together with yours, General. The Shen household has already started packing." Xu Xinglan was silent for a moment, his scarlet eyes looking toward the north—the direction of the Su Kingdom, the place where his father's head was hung high. Snowflakes fell on his red hair, melted into water, and slid down the line of his jaw, just like the blood of the northern frontier all those years ago. "Tell Shen Qingci we set out together after the spring begins." He turned and walked toward the weapon rack at the edge of the training ground, drawing the longsword that had accompanied him for years. Its blade reflected his cold, hard profile. "I want to see just how many Su Kingdom whelps are hidden inside this Four Directions Academy." The snow kept falling. The plum fragrance of the Zhenbei Marquis's mansion grew even sharper in the cold wind, and behind the young general's eyes, a fire that would burn everything to ashes had already been lit.