Chapter 140: True Love

The sudden strange behavior of the Cavalry Emperor in Yanjing sparked heated debate, yet it had no impact whatsoever on Tu Bie. Over the course of two days, Tu Bie was busy handling a mountain of paperwork related to his recent ennoblement. The Council of Nobles had already sent representatives to contact Xia Ya, requesting a detailed report on his family background and personal history. Alas, poor Tu Bie was a veritable lone star of misfortune; he did not even know who his biological parents were, let alone provide a proper lineage.

In the end, after some discussion, Lu Er and others helped fabricate a record. They crafted an entire family tree spanning eight generations on both paternal and maternal sides, inventing uncles, aunts, cousins—the whole lot. When Tu Bie finally received the carefully concocted document, he was stunned. He studied Lu Er for a long moment before sighing, “Honestly, Fatso, I’m going to have to be careful with you from now on... You really can lie without batting an eye. Even I almost believed the things written here.”

Lu Er nearly kicked him in frustration. “I’m swamped with official duties and stayed up late making this for you, and you act like it’s nonsense! If you don’t want it, give it back!”

Xia Ya, however, grinned mischievously and tucked it away. “Alright, consider it a favor from me to you.”

They then sent the document to the Council of Nobles. The subsequent work involved verification and authentication, but Lu Er assured him that since the emperor intended to promote Xia Ya, the council would not interfere—these checks would be mere formalities.

The following day, Xia Ya met with General Adriek, who had just arrived in Yanjing. News of this general’s appointment had already spread throughout the city. Though Xia Ya was unclear about the exact nature of the "Deputy Minister of Military Affairs," from the atmosphere surrounding the event, it was clear the position was of great importance.

Upon meeting, General Adriek appeared calm and composed, showing no signs of jubilation from his promotion; instead, his expression was even more solemn. He gave Xia Ya a sincere word of encouragement, then fell silent. Yet Xia Ya instinctively sensed something odd: the general seemed to have moments of distraction during their conversation, each time briefly but intently staring at Xia Ya with a strange look in his eyes.

Xia Ya knew that when he had been detained by the military, if not for General Adriek’s intervention, things would not have turned out so favorably. He was grateful for the general’s help and treated him with utmost respect, foregoing his usual levity.

After some discussion, Adriek said, “Kato and Shalba have been with me for years... I know you’re close to them, and there’s also Kevin...” Mentioning the bald soldier who had died in battle brought a touch of melancholy to the general’s face. Shaking his head, he continued, “But enough of that. Soldiers dying in battle is common. Kato and Shalba no longer wish to remain with the 13th Cavalry Regiment. They worry Lu Er won’t lead the regiment well, so they came to ask me if they could leave with me. However... I refused.”

“Why?” Xia Ya asked, puzzled. “But you’ve been promoted, haven’t you? Wouldn’t it be better if they followed you to the military department?”

In Xia Ya’s eyes, General Adriek was kind to his subordinates and would not abandon old comrades after a promotion. Yet he had declined their request.

Adriek explained, “Life in the military department won’t necessarily be easier; there will be many challenges. So I brought them here to Yanjing and decided to leave them with you. You all are brothers who have come through blood and fire together—I trust you’ll treat them well.”

Seeing the general unwilling to elaborate, Xia Ya did not press further. After all, Kato and Shalba were his brothers, and he intended to care for them no matter what.

Still, the general’s demeanor unsettled Xia Ya. Though always stern, Adriek’s words this time sounded somewhat like final instructions. After a moment’s silence, the general’s usual resolute gaze briefly softened before returning to its habitual severity.

“Well... tomorrow I will go to the Senate to undergo the formal appointment ceremony. Xia Ya, you should come with me. The Senate was established at the foundation of the empire and holds great significance. Experiencing it firsthand will surely aid you on your future path.”

Xia Ya agreed without hesitation, holding deep respect for the general and trusting that any task he requested was for his own good.

***

The next morning, Xia Ya accompanied General Adriek to the Senate for the appointment ceremony. Adriek brought only about a dozen personal guards. According to tradition, everyone wore plain white robes, avoiding any ornate or official uniforms that might indicate rank—this was the embodiment of the Mingzhu spirit: equality among all.

Xia Ya, however, harbored some disdain. Wearing identical clothing did not make everyone equal; it was merely a thin veil of modesty. Once outside the Senate, nobles and commoners remained worlds apart.

Yet Adriek’s reverence for the Senate was palpable, so Xia Ya said nothing and complied. Watching the general shed his armor and don a simple white linen robe, Xia Ya noticed a sacred expression cross the usually battle-hardened face, inspiring a faint pang in his own heart.

The young rustic did not yet understand concepts like “faith” or “ideal,” but from the general, he sensed a subtle but profound difference—a glimpse of something deeply cherished.

The group, all clad in white, rode to the Senate. Several dozen meters from the entrance, Adriek dismounted first and led the horses on foot.

Turning back with a smile toward the puzzled Xia Ya, he explained softly, “This is a thousand-year-old tradition. Before entering the Senate, no one—no matter how powerful or royal—is permitted to ride at full gallop, as a mark of respect for the rights of the people.”

Xia Ya complied, though he did not grasp the notion of “civil rights.” He simply obeyed the general’s instructions.

Arriving at the Senate’s entrance, Xia Ya observed the weathered stone steps and verdigris-covered gates. Though temporarily adorned for the occasion, the years of corrosion were evident, and despite efforts to instill solemnity, the place still bore a sense of decay.

No one stood guard at the entrance; the gates were open. Xia Ya was curious, but Adriek chuckled, “Another tradition: all who enter, regardless of status, wear white. If there were a welcoming line, it would imply hierarchy, which is not equality.”

Xia Ya nodded, unconvinced.

It was his first time inside the Senate, a place of great historical renown within the empire but unremarkable in Yanjing. They passed through winding corridors where bricks and walls were cracked, and stubborn weeds sprouted from crevices.

At the heart was a circular chamber resembling a small amphitheater—the Senate’s assembly hall. Adriek told Xia Ya this was where the empire’s most important law, the Imperial Code, had been passed at the nation’s founding.

Watching the general’s face light up with a faint glow of excitement and reverence, Xia Ya realized this was not mere pride in promotion but a deep respect for the Senate itself.

The chamber’s tiered seating could hold hundreds, yet only about a hundred people in white robes occupied the front rows—a sparse and subdued gathering.

In the center stood a round dais where three elderly men, also in white robes but adorned with golden olive leaf badges, presided as the Senate’s chief elders.

Adriek instructed Xia Ya to find a seat among the tiers as an observer and keep silent. Then the general strode onto the dais.

At his arrival, the assembly murmured with surprise.

“Is that the general?”

“Such a fearsome face! That scarred visage!”

“Hah! You don’t understand—looking fierce is how you intimidate enemies on the battlefield. This isn’t some pretty boy from the city market!”

“He’s not just a general—he’s the Deputy Minister of Military Affairs! A big shot, even the emperor treats him respectfully.”

“What do you think he’ll say? What’s this appointment all about? Are we supposed to question him?”

“Enough chatter, let’s listen. I still have chores at home. Those three old men said sitting here half a day earns ten copper coins. I wonder if that’s true.”

The low whispers buzzed like a swarm of flies. Xia Ya frowned, displeased, and glared sharply at a few nearby. Startled by his fierce look, they shuffled away.

On the dais, Adriek heard the murmur but barely registered it. His once bright eyes dimmed slightly, and he frowned. When the three elders brought forth a thin, square stone tablet and placed it on the lone table, Adriek’s eyes lit up with passion.

The tablet, weathered by years, bore a clear inscription:

“Authority derives from the people.”

This artifact seemed to ignite Adriek’s zeal, causing him to forget the noise below. He stepped forward, nodding to the elders.

“Silence! Silence!” one elder commanded.

“Now, we invite General Adriek to accept the appointment!”

Whether due to the elders’ authority or the promise of ten copper coins, the crowd quickly fell silent.

Adriek’s expression was stern as he cleared his throat and spoke clearly, his voice echoing around the circular chamber.

“My name is known to all. Today I stand here to accept this appointment because all authority originates from the people! By accepting this from the populace, I embody this principle.”

The elders beside him smiled approvingly.

They were pleased that such a high-ranking official, loyal to the Senate, was being appointed. As a respected member of the Senate himself, Adriek’s entry into the empire’s core power was good for them. His voice grew fervent.

“At the empire’s founding, a great philosopher—one of the Senate’s founders—once said: whether sacred and supreme or humble as crawling ants, all derives from the people! When the people support, there is greatness; when they do not, even greatness falls to humility...”

Adriek cited this ancient wisdom with solemnity. The three elders listened eagerly.

However, after a few minutes, the assembly’s patience waned. The promised copper coins seemed to lose their charm.

“What’s he talking about?” someone whispered.

“I have no idea. What are ‘crawling ants’?”

“Ants crawl, right? What’s crawling mean? Like a frog?”

“He says if the people don’t like it, greatness becomes ants? What does that mean?”

“Who knows? I hate that tax collector who comes to collect every year. Dream of getting rich, but what good is that if I hate him? I don’t dare cross him.”

“Quiet! You want your ten copper coins or not?”

The chatter grew louder. Adriek appeared unfazed, continuing his speech, though his brows furrowed and his eyes dimmed in disappointment.

When he finished, the assembly yawned and fidgeted. The stone benches were hard and uncomfortable; some shifted restlessly, others crossed legs or leaned back. Some whispered about daily affairs—meat prices, vegetables—unconcerned with the ceremony.

Adriek’s disappointment deepened as he glanced at the elders.

“Silence!” one elder roared, cheeks flushed, “Now, we proceed to the questioning! General Adriek will answer your inquiries!”

Questioning?

The crowd perked up. Prior training from the elders had explained that questioning was a session for the appointee to respond to any and all questions—no matter how difficult. Historically, some dignitaries had been embarrassed by this process.

This was a rare opportunity to challenge the powerful without consequence.

As soon as the questioning began, chaos erupted.

“General, why is there an annual war tax?”

“I live in Osgrilia—why should I care about wars elsewhere?”

“My shop is constantly vandalized, and the patrols are in cahoots with the thugs! I pay security taxes, but no one protects us!”

“Corrupt officials!”

“My nephew was beaten last year—by those security forces!”

“How much do you make a year, big shot? Why do you oppress us commoners?”

“Ha! Nobles never stop being greedy!”

“Look! He’s blushing! He’s guilty and can’t answer!”

“Reject! Reject!”

A loud heckle reminded others of the option to reject the appointment, as explained the previous evening.

Passing was often overlooked, but rejection was far more exciting. Common folk usually bowed before such dignitaries; now they had a chance to humble him—an unprecedented delight.

“Reject! Reject! Let’s see this big shot suffer!”

“Reject! Reject!”

“Reject!”

The uproar filled the chamber. Adriek did not utter a word in response. None of the questions addressed his promotion or duties sincerely.

Xia Ya’s face flushed with anger, several times ready to stand, but the general’s stern glance held him back.

The young rustic could not understand why such a good man—a loyal general who fought valiantly and lived honorably—was treated with such disrespect by these rabble. Yet his general remained courteous to them.

“Reject! Reject!”

“Oh! Reject! Reject! Let’s not let these nobles get arrogant! Reject him!”

“Ha! Reject!”

The three elders blushed, exchanging uneasy glances. They knew Adriek’s character and his importance to the Senate. Yet on stage, the general looked cold and disappointed, seemingly indifferent to the mocking crowd—merely bored by their antics.

But what of the general’s heart?

Watching the scene, Xia Ya’s heart filled with anger and hostility.

(General, I don’t understand your talk of civil rights and Mingzhu.) (But could this be what you mean by... Mingzhu?) At that moment, Xia Ya held nothing but contempt for the Senate and its appointment rituals.

***

At the quiet northern end of the city, beyond a series of buildings and courtyards, in a circular study room, Kavishil reclined on a soft couch, one leg crossed, wearing pristine white socks. He held a book, and at an exciting passage, his socked foot twitched lightly.

Beside him stood a freckled girl, hands folded quietly. “...That’s about it, Master. Today, General Adriek’s Senate appointment was actually rejected... I just heard the news and felt...”

Kavishil smiled softly, setting the book aside. “I knew this all along.”

He stretched out his hand; the girl promptly helped him sit upright.

He yawned lazily. “This result, I predicted. Hmph... Mingzhu—people who can’t even read nor eat well—how could they understand such matters? Without enlightenment, there can be no Mingzhu. Ridiculous...”

He spoke lightly, “This truth is clear to me and to His Majesty. Yet this time, the emperor deliberately left Adriek’s appointment to the Senate, wanting Adriek to see just how degraded the Senate has become. His intention is obvious: to make Adriek lose faith in the institution, so that he might serve the emperor loyally, abandoning hope in the Senate.”

The girl sighed. “His Majesty’s intent is indeed profound. I did not consider this.”

Kavishil smiled faintly. “Alas, the emperor’s plan is in vain.”

“Oh?” The girl looked up, puzzled.

“I know Adriek well.” Kavishil shook his head, gesturing to a teacup on the table. The girl fetched it respectfully. He sipped and asked, “If you love someone, but they become disfigured and gravely ill, what would you do?”

The girl hesitated, then replied respectfully, “It depends if it’s true love or mere infatuation. If infatuation, I would turn away. But if true love, I would do everything to heal them and never abandon them.”

Kavishil sighed deeply. After a long pause, he said softly, “That is it.”

He glanced at the girl. “Adriek’s ‘faith’ is true love.”

The girl pondered quietly before sighing.

Suddenly, she recalled something. “Master... you asked me to watch that boy’s movements. Today I heard that General Adriek brought him to the Senate. But when leaving, the boy raged and berated at the entrance...”

“Oh?”

Kavishil’s eyes lit up with a joyful smile. He stood and lightly struck the table.

“Ha! Excellent! Most likely, Adriek wanted this boy to embrace that faith with him... but it backfired. Wonderful! That boy will probably never hold the Senate in any regard again. In fact, that is good news.”

He looked at the girl. “Prepare the carriage. I must go out.”

“Master? It’s nearly noon...” she said.

“You don’t understand!” Kavishil said lightly, then strode toward the study door. The girl hurried after him.

(To be continued)