Chapter 4: I’m Not Fond of the Cut Sleeve Part 1

In an inconspicuous private residence within the capital.

Pei Jingyi shook off the shadows trailing him and wove through the city’s winding alleys. Arriving at a particular door, he gave a practiced series of knocks.

A moment later, the door creaked open a fraction. An elderly man poked his head out; seeing the visitor, his tense features immediately relaxed as he let out a long breath of relief.

“It is General Pei.”

The old man opened the door wider, ushering him inside.

In the small courtyard, a pot of medicinal herbs simmered over a stone stove, sending wisps of bitter smoke into the air. The old man’s granddaughter was busy tending the fire, her face smeared black with soot.

The little girl jumped up joyfully, wiping the dust from her hands. “Big Brother!”

Pei Jingyi fished a piece of malt candy from his sleeve and flicked his wrist, tossing it over. “Catch.”

The girl couldn’t wait to stuff the candy into her mouth, mumbling through the sweetness, “Thank you, Big Brother.”

Pei Jingyi pinched her cheek playfully. “Keep eating candy and all your teeth will fall out.”

The girl covered her mouth, giggling uncontrollably.

Beside them, the old man rubbed his hands together, looking at Pei Jingyi with hesitation.

Pei Jingyi glanced toward the main room and lowered his voice. “How is he?”

The old man sighed. “His life was saved, but his heart is like cold ashes. General Pei, please try to talk some sense into him. If he stays like this, the man is as good as ruined.”

Pei Jingyi unhooked the wine skin from his waist and strode into the room.

The bed inside was neatly kept, but Zhou Ruian lay motionless upon it. His bloodshot eyes were wide and bulging, staring fixedly at the ceiling. Heavy bandages were wrapped around his wrists and ankles, where the meridians had been severed; faint red stains seeped through the white cloth. The thick scent of medicinal herbs mingled with the metallic tang of blood, saturating the air.

Just as the old man had said, he looked like a man whose soul had died. Aside from the occasional rise and fall of his chest, Zhou Ruian was indistinguishable from a corpse.

Pei Jingyi dragged a chair over and sat down heavily. The cork of the wine skin popped with a light sound, and the sharp aroma of strong spirits cut through the room’s bitterness.

He tilted his head back for a swig, then looked at Zhou Ruian and suddenly scoffed. “I just saw your bounty poster at the City God Temple.”

Zhou Ruian’s mangled tongue moved, producing a guttural, “Heh… heh…” sound. “How… much…”

“A thousand taels of gold.”

Pei Jingyi pulled out a bounty notice and slapped it onto the bedsheets. “Chancellor Gu is quite the spender. Right now, every thug and vagabond in the city is hunting for you like you’re a golden Buddha.”

At the mention of “Chancellor Gu,” Zhou Ruian’s pupils constricted violently. His teeth ground together with a sickening creak.

He suddenly mustered all his strength to lift his head, his body twisting like a dying fish. This iron-blooded man, who had once commanded the winds and clouds, now lacked the strength even to sit up.

Pei Jingyi folded his arms lazily, speaking in a measured pace. “You certainly have guts, leading your men to assassinate the Lord Chancellor.”

Zhou Ruian’s mouth twitched. He suddenly slammed his forehead against the wooden frame of the bed, the “thud-thud” sound echoing through the room.

Pei Jingyi grabbed him by the collar to stop him, leaning in close. “Look at you, seeking death like a coward. Are you even still a soldier?”

Zhou Ruian’s clouded eyes were devoid of life. He let himself be dragged up like a dead dog, whimpering as tears streamed down his face.

Pei Jingyi’s gaze remained fixed on him, his expression cold as ice. “Didn’t you acknowledge me as your Commander? Well, I am ordering you now: pull yourself together. Stop this pathetic crying and the theatrics of wanting to die.”

To a soldier who had bled for his country on the battlefield, an order was a reason for existence—the only yardstick that mattered. A soldier lived to follow orders, whether it meant charging the front lines or fighting to the last drop of blood. It was a rule etched into their very bones.

Finally, a flicker of life returned to Zhou Ruian’s eyes. He opened his mouth wide and let out a harrowing wail. “I have failed General Pei!”

The “General Pei” he referred to was not the man standing before him, but Pei Jingyi’s father—the legendary Old General whose military exploits had echoed throughout the land.

The Pei family had been a military lineage for generations, producing brilliant commanders in every age. By the time of Pei Jingyi’s father, they had reached the pinnacle of military power in the Chen Dynasty, serving as the Military Governor of Bingzhou.

The army was different from the imperial court. It valued ability and raw strength. In the camps, only skill mattered. The one with the most talent earned the respect and recognition of the troops.

The Pei family’s deep roots in the Northern Frontier Army weren’t built on noble titles or imperial favor, but on honors earned through blood and sweat, a reputation built upon a mountain of enemy heads. Rather than the hollow name of the “Northern Frontier Army,” the soldiers preferred to call themselves the “Pei Family Army”—it was the identity they wore with pride.

Two years ago, Pei Jingyi’s father had passed away from illness.

Thirty-thousand soldiers of the Northern Frontier Army had raised white funeral banners that blotted out the sky, marching in perfect unison to see the Old General off. A funeral of such scale had terrified the eunuch overseers. They had scrambled back to the capital, desperate to report the sight to Emperor Rui.

What emperor could tolerate an army he funded acknowledging someone else as their true master?

Emperor Rui feared the Pei family’s prestige. After all, that was exactly how the dynastic founder had claimed his throne. He had summoned the grieving Pei Jingyi to the capital overnight.

Under the guise of “imperial benevolence” and gratitude for the Pei family’s generations of loyalty, he kept Pei Jingyi in the capital as an official. He granted him a grand mansion and hundreds of beautiful slaves. In reality, it was a gilded cage. The Emperor intended to use the capital’s hedonism and dissipation like a deboning knife, stripping away Pei Jingyi’s rugged edge and turning him into a proper “Capital Official.” He wanted a man who would continue singing and dancing with a beauty in his arms even if an enemy reached the city gates.

Pei Jingyi released Zhou Ruian’s collar and stared into his eyes. “The ones you failed are the brothers who went with you to assassinate the Chancellor. They lost their lives for your recklessness. If my father were alive, he would say the same.”

Zhou Ruian opened his mouth to speak, but the words died in his throat. He let out an indistinct, guttural roar. “This debt… it must be settled with Gu Yu!”

Pei Jingyi knew exactly who the debtor was. Setting aside the lives of Zhou Ruian’s companions, the mere fact that Gu Huaiyu had tortured Zhou Ruian into this wretched state meant the grudge was already set in stone.