Chapter Fifty-Three: Brothers at Arms

Within the general’s tent, the atmosphere had frozen to its limit. The exchange of glances between Qingyun and Sikong could only be described as fraught with tension, like blades drawn in a duel. General Quan wore an especially grave expression, glancing from one to the other.

“Qingyun, explain yourself. What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, tossing out a sheet of white paper. The paper fluttered gracefully through the air and came to rest at Qingyun’s feet.

Qingyun bent to pick it up, his gaze falling on a long envelope. He paused, reading the inscription: “To Military Advisor Qingyun, from the Central Palace, with utmost respect.” The moment he saw these words, he already had a measure of the situation. Unhurried, he opened the envelope and withdrew the folded letter within. At first glance, he gave a low sound of surprise: the entire page was smeared with ink, the stains falling precisely over the critical lines, concealing the true contents.

General Quan watched him with a rising anger. “Can you explain this letter?” he asked.

Qingyun studied the few legible characters, then smiled, calm and unflustered. “General, this is clearly an attempt to frame me. I beg you to see through the ruse.”

Sikong, standing nearby, interjected coldly, “Is this not your handwriting, Advisor?”

“It is indeed mine,” Qingyun admitted with a slight smile, “but the text was originally a love poem, written during a practice session and given to another. Besides, my friends and I exchange letters often; it would not be difficult to imitate my script. Commander Sikong, do you not also have letters from me?”

Sikong snorted, “Are you accusing me of framing you?”

“Certainly not,” Qingyun replied with a polite smile. “I would never believe Commander Sikong would stoop to such folly. That would be to fall for the enemy’s stratagem, wouldn’t it?”

This time, Sikong did not answer. General Quan stroked his beard and nodded, “Indeed. You cannot convict Qingyun on the basis of a single altered letter. Treason is no trivial matter.”

He glanced at Sikong, his tone deliberately stern. “You both grew up before my eyes. Not brothers by blood, but closer than kin. At this time, when the nation needs talent, I will not tolerate jealousy or the scheming of one against another. Such things wound brotherhood and serve only the enemy!”

Sikong’s face flushed red and then pale, but he retorted stubbornly, “Does the General believe me capable of such acts? I am only thinking of our country. When a spy brings secret information, I must present it immediately.”

Qingyun looked at him with a half-smile. “This spy of yours—you don’t mean Kaiming, do you?”

“Do you think a commander of the Southern Palace would listen to a common soldier from the Central Palace?” Sikong replied, his voice unsteady, but still defiant.

Qingyun pressed his lips together in a smile. “If I remember correctly, that poem—she requested it from me.”

General Quan interjected at this moment, “Which Kaiming? What are you two talking about?”

Sikong’s expression grew colder, his tone even more unpleasant. “Qingyun, do you want me to reveal your relationship with that soldier? I fear it won’t be so simple then.”

Qingyun did not allow him to seize the advantage. “Compared to the crime of betraying the loyal, I wonder which is greater.”

General Quan slammed the table, his fury barely contained. “Enough of these riddles! Speak plainly before me!”

“Father!” Sikong gritted his teeth, then played his final card. “Qingyun secretly drew maps of the Southern Palace with dubious intent. He even boasted of presenting them to the Emperor of a foreign state. I beg you to sentence him to death!”

At this accusation, not only did General Quan’s face change drastically, but even the always composed Qingyun stared wide-eyed. Sikong knew about the map? Qingyun understood the gravity of the crime—drawing maps for private reasons was already questionable, but to have it discovered could be fatal. He had never let outsiders know. How did Sikong find out?

Suddenly, he recalled that drunken night in the Central Palace camp—she had seen the map and even questioned him. He had answered casually, merely to deflect her, never imagining it would be used against him now. If the love poem was a minor prank, this accusation was meant to destroy him.

Kaiming, I treated you with mercy, and you repay me by driving me to the brink.

A tide of complex emotion surged in his chest, boiling into anger that trembled even the hand hidden in his sleeve.

“Qingyun, is this true?” General Quan’s fierce eyes were wide, his beard bristling. “Did you truly draw a secret map of the Southern Palace?”

Qingyun compressed his lips, not answering. If he denied it, a search would reveal the map hidden in his garments, compounding his crime. But if he admitted it, what excuse could he offer? In a single instant, a thousand thoughts flashed through his mind.

The general’s palm struck the table again, the blow echoing like a thunderclap atop Qingyun’s head. Sikong folded his arms, looking on with the satisfaction of a spectator. Kaiming’s move, though underhanded, was indeed a masterstroke—Qingyun was left defenseless.

Qingyun, the wisest young strategist of the Southern Palace, even you find yourself in this predicament!

“General,” Qingyun bowed slightly, “this is all a misunderstanding—”

“A misunderstanding?”

“From the beginning, it was a trap set by Kaiming and Sikong to frame me,” he declared, straightening and meeting Sikong’s cold gaze without fear. “The brotherhood you speak of, General, is nothing in comparison to Sikong’s resentment and jealousy. You raised me; I should not say such hurtful things, but Sikong has pressed me to desperation. The so-called treasonous letter and the map are both Kaiming’s instigation, with Sikong fueling the fire—”

“Lies!” Sikong interrupted, glaring. “Do you dare say you don’t have the map? Will you allow us to search?”

General Quan roared, nearly breaking the table with his fist. “Wretch! You’ve always been proud and envious. I’ve overlooked your past attempts to harm Qingyun as mere squabbles between brothers, but now you’ve stooped to an outsider’s provocation, trying to destroy him. Speak another word, and you’ll suffer a hundred lashes!”

The entire tent rang with the general’s wrath, the echo resonating in their ears. Sikong, seeing his father’s anger, dared not speak further, stubborn as he was.

Just as Qingyun had anticipated, the conversation successfully shifted from the map to Sikong. The general, mindful of their brotherhood, would not press the matter further.

Qingyun’s face was calm as he lowered his gaze, his lashes trembling slightly. “General, you cannot blame Commander Sikong entirely. He is rash and easily swayed. Kaiming is in my tent now—allow me to bring her here for your judgment.”

The general, hearing Qingyun plead for Sikong, relaxed a little. He snorted heavily. “And who is this Kaiming, bold enough to plot against my strategist?”

Qingyun’s smile was subtle, almost sinister. “A captured low-ranking soldier from the Central Palace.”

“Quite daring, to sow discord in my camp!” General Quan said coldly. “We’ll see if I don’t have her torn to pieces!”

Before the words had faded, a young soldier burst in, throwing himself to the ground in a bow. “General! Disaster has struck!”

“What is it?” General Quan, alarmed by the commotion, pressed, “Speak! Has the enemy attacked?”

“No!” the soldier gasped, swallowing hard. “The horses in camp suddenly panicked, catching fire and rampaging. Several tents and supplies are burning…”

“How is the fire now?” General Quan demanded.

“It’s dying down—only some flammables were lost.”

“How did the horses catch fire and lose control?” Sikong wondered. “Was it arson?”

A sharp light flickered in Qingyun’s eyes. “Did the fire start near my tent?”

The soldier answered quickly, “Yes, it began in a circle around the strategist’s quarters.”

“My personal guard—fetch him immediately!” Qingyun’s expression darkened, and the soldier hurried out.

General Quan looked to him. “Qingyun, do you suspect something?”

“I am certain I know who set the fire!” Qingyun declared through gritted teeth. “If we delay, she’ll escape. That woman is cunning indeed!”

“A woman?” Sikong was taken aback, then grasped the implication. “You mean the arsonist is the female soldier in your tent?”

“Who else could it be?” Qingyun retorted, laughing angrily. “Her scheme is obvious—using you to keep me here and create chaos for her escape.”

General Quan frowned. “Qingyun, what exactly is going on?”

Qingyun bowed respectfully. “General, the situation is complex and difficult to explain quickly. Suffice to say, Kaiming is the key to all these accusations. Please allow me to apprehend her, and the truth will be revealed.”

“This female soldier is the Kaiming you spoke of?” General Quan was visibly moved. “A mere soldier, yet she has driven my sons to such strife. There’s no time to lose—go and seize her! I want to see what manner of person she is!”

Qingyun took the order and left. Sikong watched his receding figure, then suddenly strode forward.

General Quan shouted, “You wretch! Are you going to make more trouble?”

“Father!” Sikong turned, stubbornly meeting his gaze. “Qingyun must not be allowed to act alone. If he kills her, there will be no witness left. I must catch that soldier before he does!”

“Qingyun would never do such a thing. Come back here!”

Sikong replied coldly, “Father, you underestimate Qingyun. He is far less simple than you imagine.” With that, he threw aside the tent flap, leaped onto his warhorse, and shot out of the camp like a streak of lightning.

Almost at the same moment, Qingyun mounted a white steed, its hooves striking the muddy road. Their eyes met in the open air, and once again, sparks flew between them, brighter and more dangerous than ever.