Chapter 90: Sun Fuping's Final Moments When He Chunhua arrived with his men, He Lingchuan had already leapt onto the bird’s back and been carried away against his will, missing the final moments of the once-renowned state preceptor’s life. The last person to deal with Sun Fuping had been He Chunhua. Ever since He Lingchuan learned that his father possessed the man’s notes, he had wondered what he had missed. “State Preceptor Sun was no pushover. Even with his magical energy exhausted and his cultivation supposedly suppressed by being inside the illusion realm, he still managed to kill seven of us,” Zeng Feixiong said, a trace of sorrow in his voice for the fallen. “If not for the ferocity of the Gale Army’s heroic spirits, we’d never have taken him down.” “I heard the Gale Army suffered losses, too.” “Yeah. They fought without the slightest concern for life or death, nothing like us living folk who weigh the cost. In less than half a quarter-hour surrounding him, they lost... uh... about...” Zeng Feixiong’s words slurred. He Lingchuan promptly shoved a slice of lemon into his mouth. The sharp tang shot straight to Zeng Feixiong’s brain, making his jaw go numb, but the effect was immediate. He shuddered, sobering up. “About three or four dozen died, one after another, catching Sun Fuping off guard,” he recalled. “In the end, it was the cavalry officer who speared him through the throat. Still, his cultivation was so deep that he didn’t die immediately. He even managed to exchange a few words with the commandery administrator.” This was the important part. “Did you hear them?” He Lingchuan pressed. “Yeah. His voice was low, but I was guarding Lord He when he went over.” Went over? Father approached Sun Fuping right when he was dying? A man as shrewd as my father should know that a snake’s last strike is its most vicious. What could be so important that it had to be said before the man died? “State Preceptor Sun said...” Zeng Feixiong used the title out of habit; though stripped of it after defecting, it stuck in his mind. “Anyway, he claimed his treason was justified, that he had no regrets dying for it. Well, something along those lines.” He had spoken much more, but Zeng Feixiong just could not recall it all. He Lingchuan sighed inwardly. Too much wine. “He said everything he did was for the good of Great Yuan, then badmouthed the King a fair bit.” Even half-drunk, Zeng Feixiong was wise enough not to repeat anything that could cost him his head. He Lingchuan did not care to hear it either. He Yue’s earlier words came to mind. Can this kingdom even be saved? And if so, would the kind of drastic measures taken by people like the Minister of War or Sun Fuping be the way? He shook the thought away. Let those with lofty ideals wrestle with those thoughts. “Was that all?” “Oh, right. He said to the commandery administrator, ‘the late emperor slaughtered your whole family, so why still serve the imperial family?’ Before Lord He could answer, he added, ‘unless you have your own agenda!’” “And my father said?” “He cursed him for talking nonsense, and said he himself wasn’t so selfless, and that the reason that he even took this trip to Panlong City was because he had his own aims, and not just to aid the Minister of War.” When the commandery administrator leaned in close to Sun Fuping’s ear, Zeng Feixiong could not hear what was said. But right after that, Sun Fuping started laughing—a wet, gurgling sound, blood hissing from his throat without pause. “He told the commandery administrator that it was useless. Once something was done, there was no going back. Otherwise, you’d face backlash and the ruin of your family. He said something about sowing beans and reaping beans, cause and effect.” Zeng Feixiong spat the following words out bitterly, “I’ve no idea what he found so funny, but he died halfway through laughing.” “After that, the commandery administrator searched him from head to toe, then rushed back to the southern gate to find you.” So that’s what happened. He Lingchuan did not press further. The two of them kept drinking and eating until he himself was half-drunk, then he paid someone to bring Zeng Feixiong home. Uncle Hao was waiting in Xiangsi Tower’s front hall. As soon as He Lingchuan came down, he escorted him back toward the He Mansion. On the way to his own quarters, He Lingchuan unexpectedly ran into He Chunhua. It was late at night, yet the commandery administrator was still wearing the clothes that he had left in that morning. He had clearly just returned home, but his spirits were high. This was a sharp contrast to his swaying eldest son. “Utter nonsense, do you ever spend your days doing anything proper?” He Chunhua pinched his nose and demanded, “Where have you been?” He Lingchuan just grinned foolishly. Uncle Hao answered, “The young master went to Xiangsi Tower with Liu Baobao and Zeng Feixiong. They went through seven jars of aged wine.” Then, He Lingchuan suddenly cut in, “Father, have you ever done anything to wrong us?” He Chunhua frowned. “What nonsense is this?” “Do I have a long-lost brother somewhere? No, better yet, a little sister!” He Chunhua kept his face stern but was not about to argue with a drunk. Turning to Uncle Hao, he said, “Take him back. Make him drink two cups of hangover soup before bed, or he’ll wake up with a splitting headache.” “Yes.” As Uncle Hao led the swaying He Lingchuan away, He Chunhua watched their backs, then let out a long sigh. His posture seemed to lose some of its rigidity. He Lingchuan truly was a bit drunk. After downing the hangover soup, he collapsed onto his bed without a second thought. He slept straight through to midday the next day. The sleep was dreamless and peaceful. Patting the broken saber on the wall, he found it had behaved itself last night, not stirring up any trouble. * * * That evening, he happened to run into He Yue. “Have you ever heard of Du Feng, the Minister Steward of the Court of the Imperial Treasury?” He Yue was clearly in a hurry to relieve himself, but He Lingchuan blocked his way. No matter which way he tried to sidestep, he could not get past his older brother. “You haven’t heard? He is in charge of the management of the Court of the Imperial Treasury. He oversees storage and accounting, as well as the markets in the capital and Shihuan City. His rank isn’t high, but his influence isn’t small.” “I heard he’s an old acquaintance of our family?” “A family friend,” He Yue replied coolly. “He and Father have occasional contact. I’ve even drafted letters on his behalf.” He Lingchuan let out a long “Oh.” That was a lot of information in one sentence. It was proof that He Chunhua and Du Feng did have ties, though they were faint. It was not necessarily because of betrayal or shifting sentiments, but the late emperor had condemned the He Family. Hence, it would be only normal for the Du Family to have been eager to prove their innocence. How could they risk being too close to the lone survivor of a disgraced family? “Exchanging letters is already not bad.” He clapped He Yue on the shoulder. His little brother was only fourteen—clever, yes, but still green in the ways of the world. “In Du Feng’s position, every association has to be weighed with care.” “Yes, it does...” He Yue’s patience finally broke. “Now, will you move?” He Lingchuan acted as if he had not heard anything. “And do you know who the old lady of the Du Family, Du Feng’s grandmother, is?” Speaking rapidly, He Yue said, “Old Madame He Suqiong[1]. She’s well-connected in the capital, charitable by all accounts. She likes opera and songs, and she holds garden parties and outings.” “Alright.” Seeing his younger brother’s face turning red from the effort of holding it in, He Lingchuan finally stepped aside. He Yue shot off like a rabbit. 1. Note that her surname is not the same as that of the He Family (He Lingchuan’s family). ☜