HCAW 21
by LiliumChapter 21 – Emperor Bai‘s Orphan
Rain poured through the night, the heavens dark as ink. At the Langgan Guard’s residence, a lone lamp flickered in and out of view in the darkness.
Two figures sat close together on a blood-red rosewood bed in the main hall. Langgan Guard stood like a tower of iron, with sword-like brows and deep-black eyes, his presence sharp and imposing. The other man’s face was furrowed like dried bark, thin as a skin-and-bone horse—this was the Mohe Guard, known by all as “a cleaver cutting tofu—slippery on both sides.”
The two Xian Mountain Guards were ranked eighth and seventh, long-time comrades, close as brothers. The wine’s surface reflected the Mohe Guard’s leathery, wrinkled face. He suddenly sighed:
“Old. I’ve finally grown old. Where is the brave Mohe Guard of the past? Now I’m in my twilight years. With Emperor Bai gone, our time has passed. These days, even a few sips of wine knock me out cold—how pitiful.”
Langgan Guard’s frown deepened. This broad-shouldered, fiery-tempered man had always been loyal to Emperor Bai. Hearing these words, he silently picked up his cup and took a sip of wine.
“We old relics really are past our time—it’s up to the younger generation now. How has your young master Minsheng been? I heard he’s been diligently training with the sword, hoping to become a Xian Mountain Guard.” The Mohe Guard asked with a chuckle.
“Hmph, that brat?” the man scoffed and took a deep swig. “He’s just a little punk.”
“Even a punk can claw at an eagle!” the Mohe Guard laughed, his wrinkles bunching like a blooming longevity flower. He glanced at the man’s left leg, still strapped with a greave. He knew Langgan Guard had been crippled in battle and now moved awkwardly. On rainy days, he even needed a sandalwood cane just to walk. Once heroes, they were now just struggling to survive in the frozen lands of Penglai.
The Mohe Guard breathed in the scent of the yellow wine and paused before saying, “Brother Fang, there’s something I’m not sure I should say. I’ve heard some rumors—Tianfu Guard might still be alive.”
The man slowly looked up, a flicker of shock showing faintly on his hardened face.
“Tianfu Guard?”
“Yes. They say he didn’t die in the Ming Sea. He’s still roaming somewhere in Penglai.”
The burly man closed his eyes and said quietly, “Emperor Bai was known as a tyrant by the world. Now he’s a fugitive—Penglai no longer welcomes him.”
Langgan Guard thought of Penglai’s golden age under Emperor Bai. The young ruler had been full of ambition, radiant with spirit. All four seas flourished under his reign; the world was at peace. And yet, history remembered him as a tyrant who died under Emperor Changyi’s blade.
Suddenly, his mind swam with dizziness, as though countless memories surged into him—fragmented and disordered. He blinked, and the feeling vanished instantly.
In the dim candlelight, a thick shadow crept over half of the Mohe Guard’s face. The old man’s withered features turned solemn.
“All of Penglai is now hunting Tianfu Guard. On the night of Emperor Bai’s fall, Tianfu Guard took a child from the Penglai Palace. No one knows who the child is. Some say he was brought back from beyond the Heavenly Pass—Emperor Bai’s own dragon-blooded heir. Tianfu Guard smuggled him out of the palace with treasonous intent. That’s a crime punishable by death!”
He chuckled and looked at Langgan Guard again. “Brother Fang, you haven’t crossed paths with Tianfu Guard since Emperor Bai’s death, have you? If you catch him—or find that child—there’s a ten-thousand-tael reward waiting. Don’t you dare keep that fortune to yourself!”
Langgan Guard gave a cold snort. “Tianfu Guard answered only to Emperor Bai. Why would I be close to him? If I find him, of course I’d report it to His Majesty.”
The Mohe Guard laughed. “Emperor Bai was a tyrant of the former dynasty—his orphan should be treated as a traitor too. Brother Fang, I know you wouldn’t shield Tianfu Guard. But what about Emperor Bai?”
Suddenly, a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, tearing open the night with a burst of white. Thunder rumbled after it, like a beast howling in the distance. The old man’s eyes narrowed into slits, like two needles. A sharp light shot from within, stabbing at Langgan Guard. He asked:
“You’re not… still loyal to Emperor Bai, are you?”
In the pale lightning, the man said nothing. He only took another silent sip of wine.
Langgan Guard often recalled the past—how he had fought shoulder to shoulder with the young monarch. Before he was gravely wounded and slumbered for over thirty years in an ice coffin, Emperor Bai, Ji Zhi, had worn silver armor, wielded the Vipashiyin Blade, and charged like a hawk into battle—swift and fierce, back-to-back with him as they fought. Emperor Bai had saved his life many times. They had long been bound by blood and battle.
Even if history painted Emperor Bai as a stubborn, egocentric tyrant—how could he not remain loyal to such a king?
Yet now, the man merely shook his head.
“The Xian Mountain Guards are blades forged to serve a ruler. Whoever sits on the throne—that is who we obey.”
The Mohe Guard looked deeply at him, a complicated glint in his eyes.
Their private conversation stretched into the late night before the Mohe Guard took his leave. A green-robed servant led the old man through the twin corridors, where faint laughter could be heard from somewhere. The Mohe Guard looked up. The night was still, but the voices seemed to come from the inner courtyard. He smiled and said to the servant:
“Is that Minsheng fooling around? I haven’t seen him in so long. Let me go say hello.”
The servant hesitated. Normally, outsiders weren’t allowed in the inner court. But the Mohe Guard was a high-ranking Xian Mountain Guard and regularly gifted Young Master Minsheng generous offerings. Their families were close, and turning him away would be improper. After a moment’s thought, he led the old man inside.
In the eastern wing, a lamp still burned. Behind the paper window, two shadows danced in play. The Mohe Guard heard joyful laughter and the sound of splashing water—like birdsong at dawn.
The old man stepped forward, his wrinkled face softening into a kindly smile, and called out:
“Minsheng, my boy—your uncle’s come to visit!”
The laughter inside fell silent. After a long pause, the door creaked open halfway. A young boy stood in the doorway. His lips were red, teeth white, and his single dark eye shone like lacquer. Wet hair draped down, his inner robe still damp. He smiled and said, “Uncle Tao? Forgive me for receiving you dressed like this—it’s quite improper.”
The Mohe Guard chuckled. “It’s been so long—I missed you! Were you soaking in the tub? I must’ve interrupted you.” As he spoke, he pulled a small pouch of candied lotus seed from his sleeve and stuffed it into Fang Minsheng’s hands, saying repeatedly, “Eat some candy, eat some candy.”
Fang Minsheng was just thirteen or fourteen, still a boy at heart. At the sight of the candy, he lit up with joy and thanked him. The Mohe Guard added, “I thought I heard someone else in there. Who were you playing with?”
Not sure why, but upon hearing this, Fang Minsheng shuddered all over.
This reaction did not escape the Mohe Guard’s sharp eyes. Fang Minsheng blinked and smiled, saying,
“No—no one’s here, I was just talking to myself.”
But the Mohe Guard’s eyesight was sharp. He spotted a bath barrel in the room, and behind it, a small figure timidly hiding. He chuckled,
“Minsheng, you’re already learning how to hide a beauty in a golden house at your age? Aren’t you going to introduce her to your uncle?”
Fang Minsheng had no choice but to say,
“It’s a little boy from Mumu’s household. I found him clever and cute, so I decided to keep him here and teach him.”
Fang Jingyu peeked out, looking timid and frail. His body was thin and bony, ribs protruding like an abacus frame. He clung to Fang Minsheng’s leg, refusing to let go. Fang Minsheng said,
“He’s not used to seeing people and doesn’t know proper manners. I hope Uncle can forgive him.”
The Mohe Guard laughed,
“What a handsome little fellow!”
Though he said this, in his heart he had already guessed most of the truth. This must be the second son of Langgan Guard. He’d heard that Langgan Guard neglected that child terribly, never raising him publicly, putting all his efforts into cultivating Fang Minsheng. Now that he saw him in person, the child truly was thin as a stalk of deadwood, pitiful and alone.
The Mohe Guard took his leave of Fang Minsheng and walked with the green-robed servant toward the front gate. As he walked, he mulled over the things Fang Langgan had said during their talk. Though outwardly loyal to the emperor, Langgan Guard still clung to memories of the former ruler.
His thoughts fluttered like threads in the wind, and soon turned to Fang Minsheng. The youth’s image formed vividly in his mind—exceptionally intelligent, a once-in-a-century martial prodigy who mastered all eighteen weapons with ease, and whose swordsmanship was already unmatched and awe-inspiring, like a pearl descended from the heavens.
Such brilliance instantly reminded the Mohe Guard of someone—Emperor Bai, Ji Zhi.
The same early fame. The same unparalleled gifts. The same gallant bearing. Fang Minsheng, still so young, dared to wrestle tigers and had already saved immortal lives. Emperor Bai had once been the same—bold and outstanding, wielding the Vipashiyin Blade across the battlefield.
Suddenly, it was as if lightning illuminated his entire mind. The Mohe Guard shuddered from head to toe.
Countless scenes flashed before his eyes:
Langgan Guard sitting like a mountain in the candlelight, silently drinking.
The days when he and Emperor Bai had fought side by side.
The so-called tyrant who was struck down in the Penglai Palace.
The orphan of unknown fate.
Tianfu Guard still on the run in Penglai.
The two boys in the Fang household—one widely admired, the other completely neglected…
Fragmented images suddenly snapped together. A terrifying conclusion surged into his heart.
The Mohe Guard stopped in his tracks.
____
Days later, a skinny horse broke through wind and dust, arriving at a lonely village among deserted fields.
The village had much unused land, untended and wild. A pond lay covered with thick algae, its surface littered with broken stems and scattered duckweed. Crimson maple trees flamed like dying embers, steeped in autumnal sorrow.
In the fields, a farmwife wearing a linen dress was weeding. She was about fifty or sixty years old. As she straightened up, she saw the skinny horse stop in front of her house. A hunched old man leapt off the horse. Though shriveled like a monkey, he wore luxurious brocade robes with a straight collar and carried a satchel. Hanging from his belt was a Mohe jade the size of a giant chestnut.
At the sight of that jade, the farmwife was struck with fear. Her body shook like a beached fish. She dropped her hoe and knelt in the shallows, trembling.
“Greetings, Xian Mountain Guard, sir… greetings…”
The old man laughed heartily and stepped forward to help her up.
“Get up, get up. No need for formality. I’m only here to wander about and stretch my legs.”
The farmwife trembled as she invited him into the house. She boiled water and steeped some rustic tea, standing with hands folded at the side. The Mohe Guard looked around. Though the house was simple—bamboo doors, clay floors—it was clean and dustless. The red sandalwood chairs and stools, while common, were made from good wood, worth a fair price. This family was clearly not poor and had some means.
The Mohe Guard took a sip of tea and smiled.
“I heard you used to work at Langgan Guard’s residence—is that true?”
At these words, the farmwife’s face changed drastically. The look in her eyes confirmed his suspicion. The Mohe Guard folded his arms and laughed,
“Did Brother Fang order you to keep quiet? Don’t worry. He and I are close. We often speak in private. Just tell me honestly.”
The farmwife only shrank back and shook her head. The Mohe Guard sighed and took off his satchel, placing it heavily on the wooden table. He loosened the mouth of the bag—and a cascade of gleaming gold coins spilled out.
“I see you’re eating well enough, but your house is still rather plain. Take this and build a better one—one that can shelter you from wind and rain. Then you won’t need to work the fields anymore and can live out your days in peace.”
The gold lit up the farmwife’s eyes. Her throat moved, but she said nothing. The Mohe Guard added,
“Worried the gold might burn your hands? Brother Fang’s mouth is like a turtle shell—he won’t say a word. I won’t leak a thing about you either. I’ll just ask a few questions, then be gone. Unless…”
The old man suddenly opened his eyes. His lips curled into a crescent smile, but his gaze was cold as a blade.
“You intend to defy the Mohe Guard’s command?”
In that instant, murderous intent swept through the room like a northern wind. The farmwife’s knees gave out, and she collapsed in a kneel as if her bones had vanished. She kowtowed madly.
“I wouldn’t dare! I wouldn’t dare!”
The Mohe Guard retracted his aura and smiled kindly.
“Good, good. Then sit. Let’s have some tea and talk.”
The farmwife, still trembling, sat on the bench opposite him. The Mohe Guard asked,
“You used to work at the Fang estate, didn’t you?”
“You could say that, but not exactly. I was a midwife. I was well known around the village back then. When Madam Langgan was due, they asked me to assist. After the baby1 婴儿 is used for both “baby” and “babies.”was born, Langgan Guard gave me some silver, and I settled down here.”
“You stopped being a midwife?”
The woman’s eyes darted.
“I’d made enough silver by then, and didn’t want to keep working. Besides, I had a mishap once—a breech birth.2 When a baby is positioned to be delivered buttocks or feet first instead of the normal head-first position. The mother and child both died. The family was furious and wanted to kill me. So I came here to lie low.”
A lie.
The Mohe Guard could tell immediately from her flustered manner. How could Langgan Guard entrust childbirth to someone with a record of failure?
But he said nothing and only smiled.
“And the child you delivered that day—how was he?”
“Very healthy. But the lady bled uncontrollably and died soon after. Alas, such misfortune…”
“Were both boys healthy?”
“Both?” The farmwife shook her head.
“I remember… only one.”
It was as if a bucket of icy water had been dumped over him. His body went cold with prickling needles. Veins bulged across the Mohe Guard’s skin like twisted walnut shells. He roared,
“One?! You said one?!”
Frightened, the farmwife stammered,
“Y-yes! I delivered one young master. The lady died in childbirth because of it!”
The Mohe Guard sat still, but inside him a storm surged. Suddenly, a thunderclap exploded in his chest, shaking every nerve and bone. A dreadful realization crashed through him like a tide of snow, pounding his organs.
Langgan Guard only had one child.
If so—then where did the two boys in the household come from?
He remembered that night in the inner courtyard. Two youths—one meek and timid, the other radiant and noble. Langgan Guard, still utterly loyal to Emperor Bai. Single-minded and unwavering.
The old man began to laugh softly. His laughter grew louder and louder—from the flutter of insect wings to a deafening roar. The farmwife stared at him in terror, frozen stiff.
“The orphan… Brother Fang… he truly is Brother Fang.”
The Mohe Guard’s eyes gleamed with icy light.
Still laughing maniacally, he growled,
“He really did… hide away the orphan of Emperor Bai!”
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