Chapter 682: A Page from a Book

(Only two chapters today.)

The Huaiyang Pass Protectorate Office had an annex, rumored to be a gathering place for pedantic scholars—so pedantic they were unbearable—and populated by insignificant officials, neither skilled in civil nor military affairs. However, the Protector-General frequently visited this annex, and apart from him, few others ever did.

Contrary to popular belief, the annex was not a desolate place where old scholars gathered to lament. Instead, it was bustling with activity, and the presence of many young faces gave the room a remarkably vibrant atmosphere. On the east and west walls, various strategic maps were displayed. These included maps of Beiliang's three border provinces and detailed depictions of Beiman's Guse and Longyao provinces. The content of the maps on both walls was identical, but they were divided into old and new versions: the east wall displayed the older maps, while the west wall featured the newer ones.

Inside, two individuals sat opposite each other at a desk, with another person standing nearby, pen in hand, poised to record their words. The desks were stacked high with Beiman's local gazettes and secret files, many of which were likely unavailable even to the Southern Dynasty's Ministry of War or Ministry of Revenue. The distinction between old and new maps on the walls was a suggestion from a junior member of the team. His reasoning was that since the enemy commander, Dong Zhuo, had remained inactive, showing no signs of significant troop movements, Beiliang should instead look for clues by analyzing the changes in Beiman's border armies in the two adjacent states over recent years. This involved identifying cities and military garrisons that had received troop reinforcements, new post roads built at considerable expense, and, importantly, locating Beiman's military exercise grounds from past years. The young man who proposed this was named Yu. It was said he was previously an aimless scholar from out of town who came to Beiliang. Unable to find a patron or a lucrative government position, he used connections to secure a place here. Six or seven other minor officials joined the office at the same time as Yu. Among them were some Beiliang locals—descendants of military families who, unusually, possessed a scholarly air from extensive reading of military texts—as well as others with backgrounds similar to Yu’s, largely unrecruited scholars from other regions, whose ambitions soared but whose fortunes were meager.

Most of the elder members in this room were disillusioned individuals who had failed to advance in their official careers. They shared a common trait: rigid necks and even stiffer knees, completely incapable of bowing or flattering. They typically sought solace in alcohol, and once intoxicated, they would inevitably speak their minds freely, offering opinions on state affairs. Then, one day, they were abruptly seized by spies from the Fushui Bureau and taken to the border. They vanished without a trace, unable even to bid farewell to their families. Initially, they were terrified, believing they were to be beheaded by the capricious and formidable Protector Chu for his amusement. Later, they discovered their purpose was to assist in analyzing military situations, which gradually put their minds at ease. Nonetheless, despite becoming "guests" of the Protectorate Office and working for the Protector-General, they held no official rank or salary, existing in a limbo, a far cry from a desirable position. Fortunately, their ambitious spirits had long been eroded by officialdom, and they possessed the patience to endure the monotonous tasks within the room. Furthermore, the terrifying reputation of Protector Chu Lushan ensured that everyone worked diligently, fearing they might one day be perceived as unwilling or as mere bureaucratic idlers, and consequently, be summarily executed.

The outsiders who frequently entered and exited this room were all agents from the Fushui Bureau. They constantly delivered unusual and peculiar items to those inside: documents detailing recent promotions within the Southern Dynasty's Ministry of War, memorials from the Ministry of Revenue concerning the expenditure of grain and fodder in various regions, and even detailed accounts, on papers of varying textures, specifying repair funds for particular beacon towers and post roads. These Fushui Bureau spies were always in a hurry, entering the room without a word, silently depositing their files and secret records before leaving, their gaze always fixed forward. As Master Hong, who was temporarily in charge, privately remarked, "Those are ruthless individuals who kill without batting an eye and sleep with their eyes open." The older members, like Master Hong, believed in acting more and speaking less, perhaps only occasionally offering a sigh or two. However, younger individuals, such as Yu Dezhi, were more audacious, like "newborn calves unafraid of tigers," daring to speak their minds freely within the room. For instance, the young scholar Li Yu, who had traveled to Beiliang, and Zhao Ying, whose father was the county magistrate of Lingzhou, had a heated argument just two days prior, vehemently debating whether the Beiman army's main assault would target Liuzhou or merely be a feint. Even Protector Chu was alerted by their commotion.

At dusk, Master Hong, whose eyesight was failing, lit an oil lamp even while seated in the prime, window-side spot with the best light. As he turned his neck, he heard the familiar soft shuffle of footsteps. Looking over, he saw an exceptionally young and fresh-faced Fushui Bureau spy enter the room and hand a packet from his tunic to Master Wang Guifang, who was in charge of receiving deliveries. Master Hong no longer felt the same dread towards these shadowy figures who had once sent shivers down the spines of all Beiliang officials. It wasn't that he had become particularly courageous, but rather that, by working for the Protector-General, he felt as if he had a shining, golden talisman protecting him. What was there to be afraid of? However, to suggest that Master Hong held any fondness for these individuals was entirely out of the question; he, like most in the room, wished to have absolutely no connection, not even for half a copper coin, with the Fushui Bureau.

Master Hong inadvertently noticed his old friend, Wang Guifang, who, after the young spy had departed, revealed a carefully concealed expression of disdain and annoyance. Pinching the document with his fingers, Wang quickly placed it on the desk of the younger man, Yu Dezhi.

Master Hong stood up, feigning interest in the maps on the wall. As he passed Yu Dezhi’s desk, he caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a page, seemingly torn carelessly from a book, largely saturated with dried blood.

Master Hong shook his head in resignation. These Fushui Bureau spies were utterly slovenly; the items they delivered periodically were either crumpled as if they had been retrieved from water, or still yielded grains of sand when shaken. This time, however, was even more egregious: it was stained with blood.

In the twilight outside, the young spy raised his arm, vigorously rubbed his eyes, and then strode away down the steps.

The spy noticed a young man in plain clothes standing at the courtyard gate. They exchanged glances, and the spy’s eyes were filled with meticulously concealed vigilance; his intuition told him that if this man were an enemy, he would surely face certain death. As they brushed past each other, the young spy, despite knowing that anyone present in the Protectorate Office—personally overseen by Protector Chu—could not be a Beiman infiltrator, still instinctively bent slightly, tucking one hand into his sleeve. Only when they had put some distance between them did he feel a sense of relief, realizing his palm, still gripping a dagger, was slick with sweat. The young spy was somewhat curious: the man wasn’t much older than him, so why had he instinctively adopted such a posture, as if confronting a formidable adversary?

As Xu Fengnian quietly entered the room, Wang Guifang, whose desk was near the door, looked up, assuming it was another Fushui Bureau spy. He stood up and extended his hand.

Xu Fengnian quietly asked, "Where is the item that was just delivered?"

Yu Dezhi suddenly looked up, and just as he was about to speak, he saw the King of Beiliang, in his plain clothes, subtly shake his head. Understanding the silent instruction, Yu simply stood up and handed the paper to Xu Fengnian.

He was, in fact, Yu Luandao, the eldest grandson of the senior branch of the powerful Yu clan from the Central Plains. Under the alias Yu Dezhi, he performed various obscure tasks in this building, spending his days meticulously sifting through local gazettes and secret documents. In reality, if Yu Luandao desired an official position, none other than Hu Kui, the Governor of Liangzhou—who was deeply respected by Xu Fengnian—could have appointed him as a fourth-grade military officer. The paper Yu Luandao handed to Xu Fengnian was a page from Liu Jingsheng's renowned essay collection, *Leisurely Feelings by a Small Window*, a work from the former Southern Tang dynasty widely circulated among scholars of that era. While this page from a rare Southern Tang edition was not particularly valuable in itself, and its printed content was widely familiar, the hastily scribbled line added to its reverse side, though perhaps not literally worth a thousand pieces of gold per character, was undoubtedly more precious than the life of the person who wrote it.

Before a major battle, scouts are the first to fall.

What many people don't realize, however, is that spies die even sooner—and always silently, without even the dignity of a heroic end.

Yu Luandao wanted to explain that the scattered, obscure, unwritten characters on the page were part of a coded system, and their meaning, along with the reason for their inclusion, would be linked within the Fushui Bureau's unique secret archives. Outsiders were unaware that the Fushui Bureau possessed a highly confidential "Codebook." Each agent had their own specific section for character decryption, ensuring that even if a secret intelligence report were intercepted by Beiman, it would remain unintelligible. The spy who had delivered this page was codenamed "Twenty-Four" within the Fushui Bureau, meaning Yu Luandao would need to consult the twenty-fourth chapter of the "Codebook" on his desk to decipher its precise message.

Xu Fengnian remained silent, clutching the page tightly. He walked to the wall and looked up at a strategic map of Guse Province.

Master Hong was completely bewildered. Unlike the rigid Fushui Bureau spies, this person seemed out of place. He wondered if the man was a military descendant related to an important figure within the Protectorate Office, as otherwise, he wouldn't have been allowed into the room. From the looks of it, Yu Dezhi—whom he and Wang Guifang privately joked about as "Yu, the frustrated one, perfectly suited for this role"—seemed quite familiar with this individual. Master Hong tugged at Yu Dezhi's sleeve and whispered, "Little Yu, is this your friend? This is against the rules! If the Protector-General finds out, both you and I will be in serious trouble..."

Yu Luandao softly replied, "It's fine."

Even Master Hong, usually so agreeable, couldn’t help but become agitated. Protector Chu’s rules were paramount on the Beiliang border, more important than heaven itself. How could a mere scholar like Yu claim it was "fine" and expect it to be so? Everyone in the room would be severely implicated by Yu Dezhi for breaking the rules!

Master Hong was about to remind the young man that he should leave the room when he suddenly heard him murmur, "When historians suffer, the nation prospers; when the nation declines, poets flourish..."

Master Hong, having diligently studied for many years in hardship, immediately recognized the words. Wasn't this a passage from *Leisurely Feelings by a Small Window*, written by Liu Jingsheng, the celebrated essayist of the old Southern Tang?

Next, Master Hong watched as the young man gently smoothed out the slightly wrinkled page and handed it back to Yu Dezhi.

Yu Luandao took the page, then handed it to Master Hong, stating calmly, "Master Hong, this page can now be archived. Your subordinate has finished deciphering the text on it. Please have someone deliver it to Protector Chu's study later."

Master Hong took the page, giving it a fleeting glance. It left no strong impression on him, other than a vague sense that the characters were stiffly drawn and their strokes seemed sluggish.

It was as unsightly as a woman wielding a blade and a man doing embroidery.

Master Hong suddenly looked up, without knowing why, and saw the young man staring at him expressionlessly. This instantly unnerved the older official.

But soon the young man smiled and softly asked, "Master, do you find the characters on this page a bit unsightly?"

Master Hong, his thoughts exposed, offered an embarrassed smile, unsure how to respond.

The man didn't dwell on it, merely raising his voice slightly to say, "You gentlemen inside have worked hard."

After he spoke, before Master Hong could even form a thought of complaint, he watched the man walk directly towards the door.

Master Hong first saw Wang Guifang standing dumbfounded at the doorway. Only then did he notice the figures outside: Chu Lushan, the Protector of Beiliang; Yuan Zuozong, the Commander of Cavalry; Yan Wenluan, the Commander of Infantry; and many more people behind them. Master Hong dared not look any further.

If that wasn't astonishing enough, what truly made Master Hong's scalp tingle was watching the young man simply step over the threshold and walk out.

Outside, that small group of individuals, undeniably the most powerful and influential in Beiliang, were all making way for him.