Chapter 61: Old Matters from Years Past Part 1

The procession arrived at the capital.

The gate general guarding the city saw from afar a grand procession approaching, with banners fluttering in the wind. Though the armor of the group was stained with dust from the road, their steps were steady and orderly, exuding the iron-blooded aura of a battle-hardened army.

The leader sat tall on horseback, his posture straight as a pine tree. The gate general narrowed his eyes and saw that the man was not in full battle gear, but wore only a set of black training clothes with a half-worn soft armor over them and a sword at his waist. His expression was calm and composed.

At this time, there could only be one general leading troops back to the capital.

The gate general did not dare to neglect him. He quickly descended from the city wall and stood like a spear in front of the city gate. He cupped his hands in salute, his loud voice cutting through the clamor at the gate:

“Marshal Yan!”

Yan Xinfeng reined in his horse. Ruo Chi snorted a puff of white mist and came to a steady stop. He gave a slight nod as his response.

“My duty compels me,” the gate general lowered his hands. His gaze sharply yet respectfully swept over the troops behind Yan Xinfeng, his tone turning to the flat neutrality of official business. “Please present the clearance documents, Marshal Yan, along with the roster of accompanying personnel and the count of baggage.”

His eyes were like an invisible comb, passing over the silent, resolute faces of the soldiers, over the neatly bundled crates of military equipment on the packhorses, and finally landing precisely on the incongruous black nanmu carriage at the rear of the procession. The carriage bore no crest or mark, its glossy panels gleaming with a cold light under the dim sky.

“If I may ask, Marshal Yan,” the gate general’s voice lowered a fraction, carrying a professional curiosity, “who is in that carriage? By law, all entering the capital must be registered and verified.”

The air seemed to freeze for a moment. The soldiers stared straight ahead, with only the flapping of banners in the wind breaking the silence.

Yan Xinfeng remained seated on his horse without moving, though his gaze deepened slightly. He did not immediately turn to look at the carriage but instead took a document sealed with red wax from his bosom and handed it to the guard at his side.

“The clearance documents are here,” the guard understood and stepped forward to hand them to the gate general, his voice resounding. “One hundred and twenty accompanying guards, roster attached. Three carts of military baggage and equipment, inventory listed.”

The gate general took the documents, but his gaze lingered on the carriage. Clearly, the papers did not answer all his questions.

At that moment, the curtain of the dark carriage stirred.

A face appeared behind the plain, shadowed cover.

A person by the hearth like the moon, brows and eyes congealed frost and snow.

In that instant, the gate general could only think of that line. He did not understand how such a person could exist in the bitter cold of the Northern Border.

The man’s face was fair and clean, with a sharp scar at the peak of his left eyebrow, like a waterfall abruptly turning on a sheer cliff. It split through that breathtaking beauty, adding a wild, untamed edge.

His eyes slanted upward slightly, carrying a casual curiosity. As his gaze wandered, it met Yan Xinfeng’s, who had turned to look.

The two locked eyes for a moment, then the man slowly dropped the curtain and sat back inside.

Only then did Yan Xinfeng slowly turn his face, his voice not loud but clear enough to reach the gate general’s ears, carrying an unquestionable calm:

“The carriage holds a physician I have invited. Surname Wei.” He paused, then added, “He is frail and fears the cold, so he cannot be exposed to the wind. His name is on the roster.”

The gate general’s fingers tightened on the documents. Yan Xinfeng’s words left no loopholes; pressing further would be overstepping.

He quickly scanned the roster appendix and indeed saw a Wei surname in an inconspicuous spot, marked as accompanying medical officer.

“…Understood.”

The gate general took a deep breath, suppressing the lingering curiosity and doubt in his heart. He stepped back, made way for the passage, cupped his hands again, and his voice returned to its previous volume. “Duty compels me, Marshal Yan, forgive me! Please enter the city!”

Yan Xinfeng withdrew his gaze and said no more. He lightly squeezed his horse’s flanks, and Ruo Chi took steady steps, leading the way into the shadow of the city gate.

Behind him, the iron stream of troops followed in silence. The wheels rumbled dully over the bluestone pavement. The black nanmu carriage also merged quietly into the line and vanished into the capital’s deep gate.

The gate general stood in place, watching the procession depart until even the last banner disappeared into the depths of the capital’s streets.

He looked down at the simple “Wei” character on the document in his hand, then up at the increasingly thick leaden clouds on the horizon. A strange feeling flashed through his mind.

He did not pursue it further but raised his hand to summon two soldiers, handing them the documents while lowering his voice. “Tell the two nobles that Marshal Yan has returned to the capital, bringing a physician with him whom the Marshal greatly favors.”

…

After entering the capital’s territory, the procession split up.

One group headed to the Capital Suburbs Military Camp to garrison, while the other followed Yan Xinfeng into the city to report first to the Ministry of War.

Wei Tingxia lay in the carriage and soon heard Ruo Chi’s voice. The horse used its nose to lift the curtain, and its master leaned down from horseback to look inside.

“I’ll have someone take you back to rest,” Yan Xinfeng instructed softly. “I must go to the Ministry of War first. No need to wait for me.”

He spoke in gentle, soft tones, without a hint of impatience or annoyance, as if they were a newlywed couple parting reluctantly.

Wei Tingxia nodded. “Got it.”

Yan Xinfeng started to leave but turned back after just a couple of steps and said quietly again, “If you like, have the steward bring a few more potted plants to the bedroom. There are plenty here.”

He was still thinking about Wei Tingxia being a demon.

Wei Tingxia rolled his eyes.

“No need,” he patted the flower pot beside him. “This one is enough for me.”

Yan Xinfeng left, and the carriage continued forward.

About a quarter of an hour later, the wheels stopped. The coachman lifted the door curtain and invited Wei Tingxia to alight.

They had arrived at Yunzhong Marquis Mansion.

Generations of noble titles earned through battlefield exploits had accumulated such military merit that Yunzhong Marquis Mansion occupied half a street, a grandeur personally granted by the Emperor.

Wei Tingxia jumped down from the carriage and saw two rows of people standing by the gate, waiting.

The elderly man at the front appeared to be the steward, looking very much like the one from Border City. When Wei Tingxia approached, he led the others in salute. “Mr. Wei.”

Wei Tingxia supported the steward. “You recognize me?”

The steward nodded with a hearty smile. “The Marquis has instructed us all.”

Though they looked alike, this one’s temperament seemed milder.

“I saw someone in Border City who looks just like you,” Wei Tingxia said directly. “But he doesn’t smile as much as you.”

“The one Mr. Wei saw must be this old servant’s younger brother. We share the same mother, but he has been aloof by nature since childhood.”

With that, the steward stepped aside. “Please, Mr. Wei.”

The vermilion-lacquered gates of the mansion towered imposingly, the plaque with the Emperor’s own calligraphy gleaming coldly above. But pushing open those heavy doors revealed a different scene inside.

The courtyards were deep and vast, so open that one could hear the wind echoing through the verandas. The pillars of the winding corridors bore traces of recent repairs, and the water stains on the courtyard bricks had not fully dried.

It was clear that to welcome the master’s return, the steward had led the servants in meticulous upkeep and tidying—very diligent.

Yet the deeper they went, the more the difference between the mansion’s exterior and interior became apparent.

In the vast estate, servants were few and far between, moving lightly and quietly as if afraid to disturb the silence. The occasional chirp of birds on the eaves only accentuated the growing chill and desolation.

Wei Tingxia clutched his flower pot and looked around, feeling that this place was less a grand marquis’s mansion and more like a forgotten, empty frontier outpost—minus the beacon fires, but with the master’s deliberate simplicity added.

The estate was like transplanting the vast desolation of the northern border intact back to the capital.

He tried to compliment them. “Your marquis… is truly one of a kind.”

The steward smiled at him. “Our marquis.”

“What?”

“It’s ‘our,’ not ‘your,’” the steward explained. “You and the marquis have gone through life and death together. No need to divide us and them—it feels distant.”

As they spoke, the two headed toward the rear courtyard.

The steward finally stopped in front of an exceptionally spacious bedroom and pushed open the door. He stood at the threshold and bowed.

“The marquis specially instructed that your quarters must be warm and comfortable. Please see if anything is not to your liking, Mr. Wei. We will do our utmost to correct it.”

As he spoke, the two maidservants following the steward also seemed a bit tense, fearing this guest from afar would be displeased.

The marquis was stationed year-round at the Northern Border and only stayed briefly upon return before leaving again. He disliked luxury and personal service, so they only handled rough work and had never attended to such a delicate guest. What if the guest was unhappy?

Everyone harbored their own anxieties, but after Wei Tingxia went in and looked around, he was very satisfied.

So spacious—he could even turn around freely inside without climbing over trunks like scaling mountains. This was simply perfect.

He placed the flower pot on a sunny table, turned to the steward, and said, “It’s great. You’ve put in the effort.”

The steward breathed a sigh of relief.

“In that case, please rest. Dinner will be served shortly.”

He prepared to withdraw, but after two steps, he was called back.

The guest, said to be the future marchioness, sat by the window. He did not look at the steward but focused on fiddling with the delicate leaves in his portable flower pot.

“Bring me some water—clear water, for watering the flowers.”

…

…

It was deep into the night when Yan Xinfeng returned.

Back in the capital, he could no longer act like the big boss or vent wildly anywhere, so Ruo Chi was unhappy. As soon as they entered the gate, it let out a loud neigh, drawing everyone’s attention.

Wei Tingxia stepped out and met Yan Xinfeng right on.

“Back?”

He leaned against the doorframe, watching Yan Xinfeng remove his cloak and hand it to a nearby maidservant. “Hungry?”

“Not bad.”

Yan Xinfeng did not glance sideways at all, his eyes fixed on Wei Tingxia. He stepped forward and entered the room with him.

Wine and dishes were already laid out on the small table in the room.

They had been set just two incense sticks ago. Yan Xinfeng’s sharp eyes noticed that a plate of cut melons and fruits had been touched, with a few slices of fragrant melon missing.

So he said, “It’s not the season, so there aren’t many fruits. I picked a few sweet ones. How do they taste?”

“Not bad,” Wei Tingxia sat down and propped his head on his hand. “Better than stir-fried dishes.”

Yan Xinfeng said, “In a few days, for the Empress Dowager’s birthday banquet, fresh fruits from all over will arrive—better than those grown in the capital. I’ll get some for you.”