Hot flashes

The fall of Wancheng was like a boulder thrown into a stagnant pool, creating ripples far more profound and complex than the victory at Luoshui.

Han Lie's soldiers entered the city with almost strict discipline.

The city's defenses were quickly brought under control, the treasury was inventoried and sealed, and the surviving garrison was placed under centralized custody, awaiting identification and disposal.

The city's inhabitants hid in their homes in fear, peeking through cracks in their doors and windows at the silent, black figures patrolling the streets. The anticipated burning and killing did not occur; only a cold order and the occasional whispers about "Lord Feng's last will and testament" could be heard.

Xiao Jue's central army did not immediately enter the city. He held a ceremony outside the city at the former Northern Liang camp, where surrendered officials from Wancheng, representatives of elders, and Feng Ben, the eldest son of Feng Jiming who had been found, were brought in one by one.

Faced with these faces, some terrified, some sorrowful, and some feigning composure, Xiao Jue showed no arrogance of a victor; his words were concise yet carried immense weight.

He reiterated his promise to the soldiers and civilians of Wancheng, ordering Han Lie to immediately open the granaries to distribute grain to relieve the famine, and to invite military medical officers to treat the wounded.

For those officials who voluntarily cooperated after being demoted, they were temporarily retained in their original positions and allowed to observe the consequences of their crimes. As for Feng Jiming's family, he personally took charge of their resettlement, bestowing upon them houses and land to ensure they would have no worries about food and clothing.

Finally, he looked at Feng Ben, who was brought up by two bodyguards.

Feng Ben changed back into civilian clothes, looking haggard with red and swollen eyes, but his posture remained upright, bearing the legacy of his father. He knelt before the tent, head bowed, his shoulders trembling slightly.

"Feng Ben." Xiao Jue's voice rang out in the silent tent.

Feng Ben's body trembled. He didn't raise his head, but simply pressed his forehead against the cold ground.

"Raise your head," Xiao Jue said.

Feng Ben slowly straightened up, his gaze meeting Xiao Jue's for a moment before quickly lowering it. His eyes held deep sorrow, hatred, and a hint of bewilderment.

"Your father was loyal and righteous, and I respect him." Xiao Jue's tone was calm and unwavering. "He sought benevolence and attained it, and I granted his wish. Do you harbor resentment?"

Feng Ben's lips moved, and after a long while, he hissed, "Father... chose his path. As a son, I dare not complain." Though he said this, the grief and indignation in his voice were hard to conceal.

"Your father, on his deathbed, instructed you to continue the Feng family line and live on." Xiao Jue looked at him. "I can give you two paths."

First, take a sum of money, take your family away from this place, live in anonymity, and live a peaceful life. I will not pursue you further. Second," he paused, "you stayed in the Northern Liang army. I have seen your father's strategy for defending the city and his unwavering determination."

Will you live a mediocre life, eking out a living under the shadow of a defeated general, or will you rise again in your own way where your father fell, and perhaps... one day, bring glory to your Feng family in another capacity?

A deathly silence fell over the tent. No one had expected Xiao Jue to make such a choice for the son of a defeated general, and one who had died a martyr for his cause.

Feng Ben looked up abruptly, a look of disbelief flashing in his eyes, which was then overwhelmed by immense contradiction and pain.

He looked at Xiao Jue, and it was as if through the tent he could see the land outside the city where his father had fallen.

His father's unwavering resolve to die rather than surrender was torn apart by the alluring yet uncertain path offered by the powerful figure before him.

Finally, he prostrated himself deeply once more, his voice choked with emotion yet clear: "Feng Ben, the son of a disgraced official... wishes to remain in the army, starting as a common soldier! Thank you, Lord Marquis... for granting my request!"

The last four words were almost squeezed out through clenched teeth. It was unclear whether he was thanking Xiao for sparing his life or for giving him this painful but potentially transformative choice.

Xiao Jue nodded slightly: "Approved. Take him down and assign him to Han Lie's vanguard battalion."

After dealing with the aftermath of Wancheng's affairs, dusk was approaching. Xiao Jue dismissed everyone, leaving only himself and Zhou Heng, who had been silently observing, inside the tent.

The last rays of the setting sun shone through the gaps in the tent curtains, casting long, dark red patches of light on the ground, like dried bloodstains.

With his back to Zhou Heng, Xiao Jue gazed at the huge map hanging on the tent wall. The black mark representing Beiliang had advanced a large step south and firmly settled on the location of "Wancheng".

"Do you think Feng Jiming is foolish?" Xiao Jue suddenly asked, his voice devoid of emotion.

Zhou Heng was lost in thought when he heard this and paused for a moment.

Foolish? From a modern utilitarian perspective, sacrificing one's own life and the lives of the entire city's soldiers and civilians for the sake of a corrupt and delusional "loyalty" to a decadent court is indeed unwise.

But the sheer tragedy and weight of living up to one's beliefs made it impossible for him to utter the word "foolish."

"...This humble general doesn't know," he finally whispered. "Perhaps...it's just a different choice."

"A choice?" Xiao Jue turned around, his gaze falling on his face. "In his position, what would you choose?"

Zhou Heng's heart skipped a beat. What would he choose? Probably... he'd surrender. Better to live a wretched life than die, especially since Xiao Jue had offered such generous terms.

"Mission first, survival is the only way to contribute." But he couldn't bring himself to say it, especially after witnessing such a death.

"This humble general... probably doesn't have the same integrity as Lord Feng," he mumbled.

Xiao Jue looked at him for a moment, then suddenly tugged at the corner of his mouth, but the smile didn't reach his eyes: "Integrity? Sometimes it's a backbone, sometimes it's a shackle."

Feng Jiming was the latter. He wasn't defending the city, but the century-old reputation of the Feng family, the grave in his own heart. When the city fell, he didn't die for his country, but for his unwavering conviction.

He walked to the desk, picked up the copy of the surrender letter written by Feng Jiming, and ran his fingertips over the neat and powerful handwriting.

"What a pity." He shook his head and put down the surrender document. "However, his death is clean enough. At least, the people of Wancheng won't be able to cause any trouble in the short term. His son might be capable."

As Zhou Heng listened to Xiao Jue's calm, almost ruthless analysis, the ripples in his heart caused by Feng Jiming's death were gradually covered by a deeper chill.

In Xiao Jue's eyes, Feng Jiming's loyalty and bravery seemed to be more about practical calculations such as "deterring those who come after him", "winning over his son", and "stabilizing Wancheng".

That heavy emotion and belief were easily dismantled, measured, and exploited.

"You seem to have been deeply affected today." Xiao Jue's gaze returned to Zhou Heng's face. "Were you frightened? Or... do you think I'm too cold-blooded?"

Zhou Heng quickly shook his head: "No! Your Excellency handled it well, using both kindness and severity. This humble general... has benefited greatly." His words were insincere, and his tone was somewhat dry.

Xiao Jue took two steps closer, then suddenly reached out, lifted his chin, and forced him to look into his eyes. The fingers were calloused, and though the pressure wasn't heavy, it wasn't easy to break free.

"Zhou Heng," Xiao Jue's voice lowered, his gaze deep, as if trying to see into his heart, "Remember, being soft-hearted, having sympathy, and being unnecessarily sentimental will all become your weaknesses, and will also become the knives that others use to stab you."

Feng Jiming deserves respect, but there's no need to emulate him. His path has come to an end. Your path is still long.

His thumb gently stroked Zhou Heng's jawline, carrying an almost intimate warning: "Watch carefully, learn well."