Chapter 105: The Rising Wind (Part Two)

These days, Wang Rengong had been sleeping restlessly. Whenever he closed his eyes, images of clashing swords and galloping horses invaded his dreams.

His youthful memories were so vague that even in dreams, they rarely surfaced—merely the typical life of a noble scion: luxurious clothes and sumptuous food, rigorous physical training, honing martial skills, masters imparting classics and arts. Racing horses by the pavilions, reveling in wine at Wuling. He understood that no matter which family or clan occupied the throne, there was always a distinct path reserved for people like them to serve the state, carrying their family’s honor onto the stage of the era.

Only when he truly embarked on his official career did he comprehend the immense pressure of being a scion of a noble house.

For the sake of the family's legacy and maintaining their status, nothing else mattered.

In times of chaos, members of noble families had to align themselves with various factions, ensuring that at least one contingent would stand with the ultimate victors. And those scattered among opposing sides could only fight mercilessly when they met on the battlefield.

During peaceful times, the ruler on the throne would inevitably promote officials of humble origins, limiting the power and influence of the noble-born. Particularly under the reign of Emperor Kaihuang, who initiated the imperial examination system, attempting to reform centuries-old traditions and gradually pushing noble families away from the center of power.

This provoked the collective resistance of the military aristocracy, the Confucian families of the eastern regions, and the great houses that inherited southern traditions.

They supported the Crown Prince, which culminated in the bloody firestorm that engulfed Luoyang eighteen years ago.

During the emperor’s campaign against Goguryeo, they tacitly condoned Yang Xuangan’s rebellion, which led to the unstoppable decline of the Sui dynasty, culminating in the current fractured state of affairs.

As a frontier official, Wang Rengong naturally aspired to be a great general of Longcheng.

But the responsibilities of his noble lineage weighed heavily upon him. So many of the Wang family’s sons had already fallen during Yang Xuangan’s rebellion, amidst the open and covert storms of the Sui dynasty, and in the bloody conflicts that spanned centuries across the Central Plains, all to ensure the family’s enduring prominence.

Only through the collective efforts of so many noble houses had the Yang family been driven to the brink of fading from history. Tens of thousands of the Yang family’s elite Iron Guards had either perished in Goguryeo, at Yanmen Commandery, or in Yang Xuangan’s rebellion.

As the one who now commanded the greatest military force of the Wang family, how could he refuse to participate in the impending contest of rival warlords, to fight for his family’s status for the next hundred years?

Thus, he made contact with the Turks, sought to annex Heng’an Yingyang Prefecture at the earliest opportunity, and relinquished his duties as a Han frontier commander.

Everything had become clear in his mind; he had made his decision.

Yet why, in his dreams, did he repeatedly see the Turkic wolf riders swarming south, engulfing Mayi Commandery in flames and blood, and the entire Central Plains consumed by fire?

—

Suddenly waking from his dream, Wang Rengong was drenched in cold sweat, his body chilled and aching at the joints, as if reminding him of his advancing years.

Outside the low-hanging canopy of his bed, the soft breathing of the night attendants could be heard. The fragrance of fine Luoyang agarwood burning in the incense burner lingered in the air, only serving to deepen his restlessness.

It seemed he would not be able to fall back asleep.

He quietly turned and rose, the slightest noise immediately rousing the well-trained maidservants on duty.

Two maids lifted the curtain to peer in; Wang Rengong waved gently, signaling he was getting up. One promptly brought a robe warmed by the brazier, while the other knelt, presenting his shoes.

After assisting him in changing, they were dismissed by his gesture, and he wrapped his garment around himself and stepped out of the bedroom.

The governor’s mansion was shrouded in silence, the night deep and still, likely past the third watch.

Just outside his chamber lay a small garden, styled purely in the Southern Dynasty fashion. Establishing such an oasis here in Mayi had cost a fortune.

Within the garden were study and sleeping quarters, served only by family-born servants. At this hour, some kept warm drinks ready, others stood watch in the corridors; a dozen or more shadows flitted about, attending to Wang Rengong’s rest. Given the wartime conditions at Mayi, indulgence was limited—though as the head of a noble family and prefect, having nearly a hundred servants within the inner courtyard was nothing unusual.

Rising abruptly and stepping into the corridor, Wang Rengong found the servants prostrate on the floor, heads bowed, fearing reprimand for failing to ensure their master’s peaceful sleep.

Wang Rengong was known to reward merit and punish mistakes severely, managing his household like a military unit. Usually, a bad mood and poor sleep meant someone would be dragged out for punishment.

But today, for reasons unknown, his mood softened. He waved his hand carelessly. “Rise, all of you. Perhaps it’s my age—good dreams are scarce. You’ve followed me through thick and thin, all the way to Mayi, trembling whenever the Turks came. No need for such fear. From now on, be at ease in my presence.”

The servants looked at one another doubtfully, saying nothing, simply relieved to have escaped a crisis.

A faint smile touched Wang Rengong’s lips, as if he wished to condescend to a brief conversation with them.

At that moment, a sudden noise came from the gate of the inner courtyard, accompanied by the voice of his eldest son: “I must see you, Father! It’s urgent—there’s no time to delay!”

The servant guarding the gate whispered explanations, trying to prevent the prefect’s clerk, Wang Zhongzeng, from disturbing Wang Rengong’s rest.

Wang Rengong sighed.

Even the prefecture seat at this frontier outpost was so rudimentary. If this were his estate beside the Luo River, no commotion—no matter how violent—would reach the entrance to his inner chambers.

—

Enough of this place, he thought bitterly.

Raising his voice, he declared, “Let him in! Maybe it’s because I knew this cursed son was coming that I couldn’t sleep!”

Footsteps approached, and a servant carrying a lantern led Wang Zhongzeng inside.

Even from a distance, the scent of alcohol emanated from Wang Zhongzeng.

Wang Rengong frowned, scolding, “Drunk and coming here to make trouble? Do you think you’re my eldest, and that I’ll let you break military discipline?”

Wang Zhongzeng hastily stood still and bowed deeply.

Though assigned as a clerk, Wang Zhongzeng spent much of his time carousing with friends in Shanyang City. Tonight he had been drinking at a tavern with a rowdy group when he heard shocking news, rushing over through the night to report it. The scolding from his father stung him deeply.

With a trembling voice, he said, “Father, the situation is dire! The news has spread throughout Shanyang City. Zhang Wansui has been captured in Yunzhong. Liu Wuzhou has gathered his troops and is marching south! The vanguard was led by that Le Langjun from Shenwu—he’s the one who captured Zhang Wansui!”

Wang Rengong stood coldly still, but inside, a tempest roared.

Zhang Wansui’s departure had been shrouded in utmost secrecy. His own unworthy eldest son had no knowledge of it.

Yet now, from his mouth, came the news of Zhang Wansui’s capture.

The fleeting softness he had just felt, and the guilt over his dealings with the Turks, vanished like smoke.

What remained was pure, hard resolve.

If news of his contact with the Turks had truly leaked, then a complete break and open conflict was inevitable.

Only one question remained: who exactly was this Le Langjun?