The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

It wasn't a gradual, gradual silence, but rather a sudden, overwhelming grip on the throat by a giant hand, abruptly silencing all sound. The cup stopped at the lips, laughter froze on the corners of the mouth, and even breathing became cautious.

Li Jingniang, with her slender, swaying steps, smiled at Wang Zhonghua and strolled upstairs, leaving behind only a fleeting glimpse of her radiant and stunning beauty. The crowd's reluctant gazes lingered on the young prince.

Surrounded by a group of richly dressed servants and refined scholars, Prince Zhao Zongyuan slammed through the door like a blazing sun. He was dressed extravagantly today, wearing a golden crown that held a pearl the size of a pigeon's egg, so bright it was blinding; he wore a striking crimson brocade robe embroidered with gold dragons, the dragons woven with real gold thread, their scales clearly defined, swaying with his steps as if they might burst from his robes at any moment; a white jade belt cinched his waist, inlaid with various gemstones forming a complete Big Dipper constellation; and he wore a pair of warm deerskin boots, each toe adorned with a lustrous pearl. He was still waving that jade-ribbed, gold-painted folding fan in his hand, the surface of which was an authentic work by Wu Daozi. In the freezing cold of the twelfth lunar month, he fanned himself with extra vigor, as if he wanted to fan out a scene of spring warmth and blooming flowers, and to fan out his noble and elegant demeanor and... deliberately flirtatious manner.

His arrival immediately propelled the atmosphere to another climax. Officials, gentry, and literati surged forward like a tide, bowing and showering him with flattery. Zhao Zongyuan clearly enjoyed the spotlight. He smiled and nodded to everyone, but his gaze swept across the room like a searchlight, quickly locking onto Wang Zhonghua and the two strikingly different yet equally captivating women beside him—Qin Tiehua and Liu Xinyi.

A flicker of undisguised amazement, a hint of possessiveness, and the excitement of a hunter spotting his prey flashed in his eyes. Waving his folding fan, he walked straight toward Wang Zhonghua, his steps light and quick, his robes billowing in the wind.

"Young Master Wang, how have you been?" Zhao Zongyuan smiled broadly, his tone as warm as that of an old friend. "Today, your 'Xiange Renjia' is filled with distinguished guests, young and old alike, truly bringing glory to Chenzhou!" As he spoke, his eyes darted back and forth between Qin Tiehua and Liu Xinyi like a viper's tongue, without any attempt to conceal them.

Wang Zhonghua returned the greeting with a cupped hand, his expression as composed as ever, as if he hadn't noticed the two unruly gazes: "Your Highness is too kind. It is only because of the presence of all the officials and fellow villagers that I have been honored. Your presence is truly a great honor for my humble abode."

"Oh, Young Master Wang, you're too modest." Zhao Zongyuan laughed heartily, his laughter carrying the crisp sound of metal clashing against metal. He gestured to his attendant to bring out an exquisite brocade box. "A small gift, nothing more than a token of my congratulations on Young Master Wang's victory in suppressing the bandits, and I wish your 'Xiange Renjia' business great success and abundant wealth!"

The brocade box was opened, revealing a crystal-clear jade cabbage. The cabbage leaves unfolded layer by layer, their veins clearly visible, and a jade cricket perched atop it. The carving was exquisite, the jade green so vibrant it seemed one could squeeze water from it. Anyone with expertise would know at a glance that this thing was priceless, worth at least ten thousand taels of silver.

This generous gift is less of a congratulatory gesture and more of a silent show of power and ostentation—look, the plaything I casually give away is worth half of your restaurant.

Wang Zhonghua didn't even blink; his smile only deepened: "Your Highness's kindness is undeserved. I will certainly place this cabbage in the most prominent place in the main hall, so that all the elders of Chenzhou may see Your Highness's benevolence!"

Before he could finish speaking, Qin Tiehua gracefully stepped forward, curtsied, and said in a clear, cool voice, "This humble woman thanks Your Highness on behalf of my young master. This jade cabbage symbolizes 'the gathering of a hundred fortunes,' Your Highness is truly thoughtful." Her demeanor was impeccable, yet she subtly linked herself to Wang Zhonghua, silently asserting her dominance.

Liu Xinyi stood half a step to Wang Zhonghua's side, silent, her cold eyes sweeping over Zhao Zongyuan like a chilling wind across a blade. The short sword hanging at her waist had a simple scabbard, yet it caused the guards behind Zhao Zongyuan to instinctively grip the hilt. An invisible sharpness emanated from her.

The atmosphere, in that instant, subtly froze.

In that frozen silence, the call to name rang out again from outside the door. This time the voice was soft, even somewhat aged, yet it possessed a power that pierced through the clamor:

"General Di has arrived!"

"Mr. Ouyang has arrived!"

The entire room fell silent for the third time.

Unlike Zhao Zongyuan, Ouyang Xiu's appearance did not cause a great uproar. The moment his fame settled, the clamor in the hall seemed to be gently blocked by an invisible filter of time, settling into a respectful silence.

As everyone's gaze fell, an elderly man in a blue robe, supported by two men, slowly entered. He was slender, yet his back was ramrod straight, like an old plum tree weathered by frost and snow. In his sixties, his temples were streaked with gray, his face gaunt, and his brows held a refined elegance and composure born of experience—an air of grace that needed no elaborate robes or golden crowns. He wore a worn blue robe and simple shoes, the only distinguishing feature being a warm, ancient jade pendant hanging at his waist, swaying gently with each step, silently narrating the passage of time. However, what was most striking were his eyes—seemingly cloudy old eyes, but when he occasionally glanced up, a sharp, piercing light flashed within them, as if able to pierce through the clamor and superficiality of the room, reaching the deepest, most hidden corners of people's hearts.

Beside him stood a military officer, around fifty years old. He was not tall, but his shoulders and back were broad and thick as mountains. His face was dark, with sharply defined features, and his eyes, though not large, shone with a keen, piercing light, as alert as a hawk's. He followed the elderly man in the blue robe, half a step behind, his steps steady as a rock. He wore no superfluous adornments, only a simple broadsword at his waist, its scabbard worn smooth and gleaming. He silently surveyed the entire scene, and when his gaze swept over the young prince Zhao Zongyuan's gleaming golden python robe, a faint, almost imperceptible understanding flashed in his eyes before he looked away, like a fleeting shooting star in the night sky.

The two men stood together, one scholarly and the other martial, one slender and the other robust, one gentle and the other resolute, yet there was a strange harmony between them. They were none other than Ouyang Xiu and Di Qing.

After the guest announcer finished calling out names, all eyes in the hall were first fixed on Ouyang Xiu, then involuntarily drawn to Di Qing beside him. Those familiar with court intrigue couldn't help but wonder to themselves: Why are these two appearing together?

Everyone in the court and among the common people knew that Di Qing, as the Privy Councilor, commanded the army and was renowned for his prestige. However, due to suspicions that he had won the hearts of his soldiers, he was a frequent subject of memorials from the civil officials. The elderly Ouyang Xiu, a Hanlin scholar and literary giant, had repeatedly petitioned to have Di Qing transferred to a post outside the capital, "to quell any potential trouble." In the eyes of the world, they were political rivals, a testament to the divergence between civil and military officials in the court.

At this moment, the half-step Di Qing took behind Ouyang Xiu felt more natural than any deliberate attempt at intimacy. It wasn't the respect a subordinate showed to a superior, but something deeper—like comrades who had been through life and death on the battlefield, now back in the game, needing no words, just a glance, a gesture, to understand each other's thoughts and feelings.

Ouyang Xiu stepped across the threshold, his gaze sweeping over the room filled with people in brocade robes and fine clothes. His eyes lingered for a moment on the priceless jade cabbage, a faint smile flickering in them, a smile that seemed to hold both sighs and understanding. When his gaze met that of a dignified military general with tattooed features, his smile held a warmth that others could not decipher. He nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly.

Di Qing also saw Ouyang Xiu, and saw the fleeting glint in his eyes. He didn't clasp his hands in greeting, but his already rock-solid figure seemed to become even more composed. He understood the meaning in that gaze—a tacit understanding only the two of them could comprehend.

Months ago, on a rainy night in the capital, the lamp in Ouyang Xiu's study flickered dimly. This literary luminary had sighed softly to Di Qing, who had come to bid him farewell: "Han minister, you hold the Privy Council, but you hold not power, but fire. Fire can warm people, but it can also start a prairie fire. The officials at court don't fear you, Di Qing, but rather that this fire will be too great, burning themselves and others." He paused, his aged fingers dipped in tea, and slowly wrote the character "Chen" on the desk. "Going to Chenzhou, far from the emperor's reach, the fire will be smaller. And when the fire is smaller, no one will add fuel. Do you... understand?"

Di Qing's eyes widened, and he seemed about to refute, but ultimately remained silent. He understood. He understood that behind Ouyang Xiu's memorials, seemingly veiled indictments, lay a protective umbrella called "preservation." Those anxieties about "potential threats," those pronouncements that "military officials obtaining military intelligence is not in the country's interest," were the oars that pushed him away from the forefront of the storm. The entire court wanted him to be "guilty," so Ouyang Xiu offered him "suspicious"; a suspicious person could be exiled or released, but not killed.

This thought cannot be spoken openly; to do so would be to deceive the emperor, to form a faction. It can only remain buried in one's heart, manifesting in a tacit understanding exchange at this moment.