The young man gave Shen Le a long, indescribable look.
His gaze traveled up and down, down and up, as though he wanted to strip Shen Le's skin away and see straight into his bones. Only after several breaths, when Shen Le was thoroughly baffled by the scrutiny, did he let out a long sigh.
"If your Lu Family hadn't made Soul-Calming Figurines for generations, and if your background weren't so clearly beyond question, I'd practically suspect you were a Zhou man—"
"No, that wouldn't be right either. Even a Zhou man would have no reason not to know the Prince of Xiang, the Grand General, the Left Chancellor, or the Duke of Qinghe, while knowing only General Hulü. You—you really know who he is?"
"Of course. The Governor Who Shot Down Eagles!" Shen Le nodded as though it were only natural, doing his best to conceal his guilt.
Heaven knew that he was not familiar with Northern Qi history—not familiar at all. Who was related to whom, which dynasty came before which—he could not match any of it up.
He knew of Hulü Guang because he had a Senior Sister who loved writing boys' love novels. While researching material for one of her stories, she had come across this man, and become utterly captivated. She had spent days educating everyone in their department about him:
"The Governor Who Shot Down Eagles," "a family of generals for generations," "shooting down an eagle with one arrow as a youth and becoming famous," "daughters becoming empresses and sons marrying princesses"—
"strict military discipline and never suffering a defeat," "single-handedly keeping Northern Zhou from making a move for decades"—
And, of course, most importantly, he had been tragically framed and executed, dying along with the extermination of his clan. Senior Sister had grieved