Why Does Mr. Xie Favor Me? Chapter 1
byChapter 1: Risking Death to Petition
I believe he has a point.
In the autumn of the third year of Yuanxi, the collapse of the Northern Frontier cut into Dongtang like a blunt knife.
The military reports announced the fall of three successive cities to two hundred thousand Hu cavalry. Yet, in the lowered eyes of the assembled high officials, these numbers were merely translated into the loss of a political rival’s influence or an opportunity for their own clans.
The fear was real, but the sound of calculating abacuses ran deeper.
The young Emperor, Li Yanzuo, sat high upon the imperial throne, his expression obscured behind the twelve strings of white jade beads hanging from his crown. His fingertips unconsciously tapped against the red sandalwood desk as his gaze swept over the rows of officials standing below the vermilion steps.
Finally, his eyes settled on the man standing at the head of the left column.
The Left Vice Director of the Secretariat, head of the Lantai Xie clan—Xie Heng.
Unlike the others, he did not lower his head in bated breath. He sat quietly on a prayer mat, his moon-white wide robes covered by a layer of light gossamer silk that made his refined features appear as elegant as jade. His phoenix eyes were slightly downcast, fixed upon his own long, clean fingers.
To him, the debate within the hall concerning the fate of the nation seemed less worthy of contemplation than the faint scent of cold incense lingering in his sleeve.
“Your Majesty,” Wang Yu, the legitimate son of the Langya Wang clan and a Cavalier Attendant, stepped forward holding a jade-handled fly-whisk. His voice carried the characteristic lethargy and confidence of the great aristocracy. “The Hu people possess strong horses and sharp blades; their momentum is at its peak. Our dynasty suffered floods last year, leaving the treasury empty. To strike them head-on now would be like throwing an egg against a stone. It would be better to follow the precedents of previous dynasties—grant them a princess and gold and silk to temporarily cease hostilities. This is the true path to blessing the state.”
Voices advocating for peace rose in a clamorous tide following his words.
The Emperor frowned slightly upon hearing this and looked over. “Vice Director Xie, what is your opinion?”
Every gaze in the hall instantly focused on that moon-white figure.
Xie Heng slowly raised his eyes, his gaze clear and indifferent. His thin lips parted, just about to speak.
A hoarse yet thunderous roar suddenly exploded from the far end of the hall, precisely shattering the silent equilibrium he had intentionally maintained.
“Your Majesty!”
The officials turned back in astonishment.
Xie Heng’s gaze also drifted past the crowd, landing on the general who had abruptly stepped out from the end of the military ranks.
He wore a travel-worn battle robe, his shoulder armor stained with the dry yellow dust of the Northern Frontier, looking entirely out of place among the powdered and scented officials in their wide robes and broad belts.
He was the military officer who had just returned from the front lines with the military report—Xiao Jue.
He lifted his head, the fresh scab on his temple accentuating his rugged, handsome face. His eyes burned with an unyielding spirit.
“Your subordinate Xiao Jue petitions at the risk of death!” His voice was so loud it seemed to echo off the pillars. “Though the Hu are numerous, they have traveled a great distance and their supply lines are long; they are at the end of their strength. If our army holds the natural fortress of Jiuquan and waits for the exhausted enemy, we may yet have a chance. Your subordinate is willing to sign a military pledge. I need only five thousand elite troops. If I cannot stop the Hu horses north of Jiuquan, I am willing to face military law and offer up this head on my shoulders.”
His words landed with the weight of a thrown stone, bringing a dead silence to the hall.
A moment later, Wang Yu’s sneer rang out, filled with undisguised contempt. “Heh, five thousand to break two hundred thousand? General Xiao, are you perhaps delirious from the fatigue of your carriage ride? This head of yours…”
He tapped his fly-whisk lightly, his tone mocking to the extreme. “I fear it isn’t even worth the life of a single Hu centurion. How can a man of humble origins understand the great affairs of state? Do not stand here spouting wild words to mislead the public.”
The words “humble origins” were like a brand of shame on their faces, allowing the great clans to easily dismiss all their efforts.
Xie Heng saw the young general’s back stiffen suddenly, his fists clenching tight.
He looked like a lone wolf driven into a corner, wounded but still trying to bare its teeth.
This was somewhat interesting.
Just as Xiao Jue’s eyes turned bloodshot and his fury was about to break through his reason, Xie Heng spoke. His voice was clear and calm, instantly dousing all the agitation in the hall.
“Your Majesty.”
He did not turn his body even an inch, looking straight toward the throne. His tone was leisurely, every word distinct.
“I believe General Xiao’s ambition is commendable, and his sentiment is pitiable.”
He paused slightly, finally turning his head. His gaze seemed to brush carelessly past Wang Yu’s ashen face.
“The national weaknesses mentioned by Attendant Wang are all true. However,” his tone remained flat but carried significant weight, “to be cowed before the battle begins only serves to bolster the enemy’s morale; it is not a good strategy. The morale of the army and the people must not be lost.”
He hesitated for a moment as if weighing the options, then calmly rendered his decision.
“Of the five thousand troops General Xiao requested, he may be given three thousand. The Jiuquan defense line shall be left to him for a trial.”
His gaze was calm, and for the first time, it truly fell upon Xiao Jue.
Xiao Jue remained prostrate on the ground, his body trembling slightly from a mix of excitement and humiliation.
“If he fails, he shall be dealt with according to military law as a warning to others.” His tone rose slightly, carrying the scrutiny of someone evaluating the worth of an object. “If he succeeds, it will be the fortune of our Southern Dynasty and Your Majesty’s great blessing.”
The matter was settled.
Without heated debate or impassioned speeches, he had simply and lightly transformed a dispute that could have shaken the foundations of the state into a controlled gamble.
The Emperor pondered for a moment, his tense expression softening slightly. Finally, he nodded. “We shall proceed as Vice Director Xie has proposed.”
The bells signaling the end of the court session rang, and the officials filed out.
Xie Heng was in no hurry to leave. He walked with composed steps until he reached the young general who was still kneeling on the spot, not yet having risen.
A pair of pristine, cloud-patterned woven shoes stopped before Xiao Jue’s downward gaze.
Xiao Jue looked up sharply. Against the light, he saw that refined face which seemed almost otherworldly.
Xie Heng looked down at him, his gaze seemingly rippleless, yet he instantly took in the other man’s momentary confusion and deeply hidden fear.
“General Xiao.” His voice was not high, but it carried a natural authority.
“Vice Director Xie,” Xiao Jue replied, lowering his head immediately. His throat was dry, and his response was almost instinctive.
Xie Heng’s gaze lingered for a moment on the wind-battered armor and the scar on the man’s temple. The wound was real, and that unyielding wildness was also real.
“Your head,” he said in a flat tone, as if speaking of a trivial item, “is temporarily on loan.”
Having said that, he leaned down slightly, drawing closer. In a voice only the two of them could hear, he commanded slowly and clearly: “Three days from now, at the hour of the Rabbit, I want to see your strategy for defeating the enemy at your military camp.”
He did not tell him to rise, nor did he ask for consent; he simply issued an order.
With that, without waiting for any reaction from Xiao Jue, he straightened up. His wide sleeves brushed a curve through the air as he walked away.
The lingering echoes of the court bells were still in the air as the officials poured out of Taiji Hall like a tide, whispering in small groups.
Xie Heng walked briskly toward his waiting ox-cart. A tilt of his gaze allowed him to sense a jealous stare following him like a shadow.
Wang Yu took a few quick steps to walk alongside him.
“Vice Director Xie was truly eager to cherish talent today, showing such keen insight.” Wang Yu wore a superficial smile, lightly shaking his fly-whisk. His voice was neither high nor low, just enough for the surrounding officials who had slowed their pace to hear.
He spoke with feigned emotion, but his gaze bypassed Xie Heng to look at the distant silhouette of the black-armored back leaving alone.
“To not hesitate to override all objections before the Emperor for the sake of an obscure, low-born soldier. This boldness is something I truly admire.”
Xie Heng did not stop, acting as if he hadn’t heard a word. Such verbal sparring was as tedious as talking to a summer insect about ice.
Seeing no reaction, a sharp edge entered Wang Yu’s tone. “Sigh, I suppose it makes sense. If this were in the past, who among these purple-robed officials would not look to my Langya Wang clan for direction? Back then, such arrogant words would never have reached the Emperor’s ears; they would have been met with a caning and expulsion from the court the moment they were uttered. Now, however, times have indeed changed.”
He paused. Seeing that Xie Heng still wouldn’t take the bait, his suppressed humiliation finally broke through his facade, and his voice sank. “If it weren’t for our Wang family’s temporary weakness, how could your Xie family be allowed to point fingers here? How could such lowly people be allowed to defile the imperial court?”
The expressions of several eavesdropping officials shifted. Their gazes darted between Xie Heng and Wang Yu as they held their breath and hurried past.
Xie Heng had already reached his carriage. The mounting stool had been placed by his attendant. Upon hearing this, his posture did not falter in the slightest; he only slowly turned around.
His plain wide robes fluttered in the breeze, making his face appear even more desolate. There was no anger on his face; in fact, the corners of his lips held a faint smile that was almost merciful.
His gaze fell calmly on Wang Yu’s face, which was struggling for composure but failing to hide its jealousy.
He did not respond to the lament about changing times, nor did he deign to argue over the topic of commoners versus aristocrats. He merely nodded slightly, his voice clear, cold, and striking directly at the heart of the matter.
“Attendant Wang.”
He still used the other man’s official title, his etiquette perfect and beyond reproach.
“The events of the Yonghe era are indeed fascinating to recall. However,” he paused, and a flash of insight into the ways of the world and a trace of faint pity flickered through his phoenix eyes, like an elder looking at an ignorant child who must have his weaknesses exposed to see reality. “Your grandfather, the Minister over the Masses, also offended the late Emperor in Taiji Hall because of a single slip of the tongue, leading to…”
He did not continue.
It was enough.
That period of history that the Langya Wang clan desperately wanted to forget—a painful memory concerning the family’s honor and political life—was the deepest wound and most sensitive spot in Wang Yu’s heart.
A mere light touch was enough to make this outwardly fierce but inwardly weak scion of a great house lose his composure entirely.
The color drained from Wang Yu’s face instantly. The forced smile froze on his lips, turning into a mess of undisguisable embarrassment.
His fingers tightened around the fly-whisk until his knuckles turned white. His lips quivered, but he couldn’t squeeze out a single word.
Xie Heng looked at him no longer and turned to board the ox-cart. The plain curtains fell, cutting off all the noise.
The carriage started slowly, leaving the palace gates. Inside the cabin, Xie Heng closed his eyes to rest. Wang Yu’s loss of composure left no trace in his mind. His fingertips lightly brushed against each other inside his sleeve as his thoughts drifted elsewhere.
That wolf cub was a blade worth sharpening.
However, a sharp blade is easily broken; one must know where its weakness lies.
He quietly summoned the attendant beside the carriage, his voice indifferent. “Go and investigate. Who else is in Xiao Jue’s family and what is their situation? Be quick.”
“Yes.”
The ox-cart entered Wuyi Lane and stopped before the Xie manor. The courtyards were silent, with only a few old osmanthus trees casting sparse shadows across the bluestone floor. The faint fragrance helped wash away some of the murky air of the court.
Xie Heng had just entered the inner study and removed his outer cloak when a voice tinged with annoyance came from behind the screen.
“I’ve heard about what happened in court today.” His younger sister, Xie Nanqiao, stepped out. She wore an apricot-yellow robe, her features three parts similar to his but with more of the vividness and sharpness of someone who had not yet seen the world.
She twisted a handkerchief in her hands, her brows furrowed.
“What kind of person is that Xiao Jue? Nothing but a boorish soldier. To suddenly gain such a high position is likely a curse rather than a blessing. If he fails, his single head is worth nothing, but won’t it tarnish our Xie family’s reputation and invite the mockery of those petty people like Wang the Seventh?”
Xie Heng had already sat down peacefully at the desk. He picked up the incense tongs and began poking at the silver-leaf charcoal in the burner, his expression as indifferent as ever.
Seeing her brother remain silent, she grew more anxious and took a step forward. “Furthermore, even if you wanted to see his strategy, you could have sent a subordinate. Why must you personally visit such a smoke-filled, chaotic place? Does it not demean your status?”
When she finished, only the faint crackling of the charcoal remained in the study. Xie Heng finally spoke, his voice calm and rippleless. “Great affairs of the military and state are not for women of the inner chambers to discuss.”
Xie Nanqiao’s cheeks flushed. Seemingly unconvinced, she argued in a low voice, “I am also considering this for you, Brother, and for the prestige of the Xie clan…”
“Enough.”
Xie Heng set down the incense tongs with a light click. He finally looked up at his sister, his gaze devoid of anger but filled with the gravity of an elder.
“Have you forgotten the words our father spoke before he died? The responsibility of the great clans lies in supporting the world, not in monopolizing power.”
His voice remained low, but every word was clear. “The prestige of the Xie family will be carried by me. You should simply be a proper daughter of the Xie clan and stop bickering with the Wang girl.”
She didn’t understand.
The current deadlock in court, the infighting between clans, and the Emperor’s suspicions were like a dead game of chess. Someone like Xiao Jue, with his delicate status and unextinguished bloodlust, was exactly the catalyst needed to break the balance.
Used well, he could break the deadlock; discarded, he would not be missed.
Xie Nanqiao was speechless, her lips parted but unable to argue. She could only bite her lip, curtsy, and silently withdraw.
After she left, the attendant by his side bowed. “Master, do you need me to go to the military camp?”
Xie Heng’s gaze shifted, passing over the swaying shadows of the trees outside the window, as if he could already see the dust-filled camp and those eyes full of wildness.
“When a hawk is young, it must be trained by one’s own hand to know its temperament and make it useful.” He withdrew his gaze, his tone indifferent but unquestionable.
“Whether he breaks his wings on the ground or strikes at the vast sky, I must see it with my own eyes to be at ease.”
With that, he said no more and unfolded a scroll. The blue smoke from the incense burner curled upward, blurring his solitary profile.
Half an hour later, the attendant returned soundlessly and presented a secret report on Xiao Jue. When Xie Heng unfurled the paper and scanned the few lines of text, a rare, extremely faint trace of surprise flickered across his eternally calm face.
His fingertip lightly tapped on Xiao Jue’s name on the paper as he whispered, “So it was you…”