As Gu Moran sang, her voice drowned out the wind outside the window.
"Three parts are destined by heaven."
Seven parts depend on hard work.
You have to fight to win!
Si Renyou's tears suddenly fell.
It wasn't because of this piece of music.
It was for his father's boat, for the Lord Liu family, and for this vibrant and lively Yi Prefecture before him.
For the sake of enduring humiliation and bearing the burden of a life of dissipation, Prince Yi, who had pretended to be a playboy for over a decade,
For the prince's resilience—even when the emperor suspected him, he never felt sorry for himself and was able to bend and stretch!
He raised his hand to wipe his face and tidied his messy hair.
As his hand fell from his forehead, he lifted the hem of his official robe and knelt down before Gu Moran.
His knee landed on the blue bricks with a solid sound.
Fang Bi's expression changed, and he was about to step forward to help him up, but Si Renyou kowtowed first.
"This old minister has guarded Yi Prefecture for seventeen years. It's been too long; my courage has waned."
"Your Highness is right."
" Tubo dare to come, Anyang dares to collude with the enemy, if we only know how to close our doors and ask for help, we'll be trapped inside sooner or later."
Si Renyou raised his head, his eyes still red, but his back was very straight.
"Your Highness, someone from my department is willing to risk everything for you!"
Gu Moran paused.
He originally just wanted to use the song to motivate the older brother.
Who knew that Si Renyou would immediately kneel down and beg for battle?
As expected of a Minnan provincial anthem, it's quite powerful.
Zhen Daijin was on one side, didn't understand the Hokkien accents spoken earlier, but he had spent a lot of time with Si Renyou.
I vaguely understood the last sentence, which sounded like "Only by striving can you win."
Seeing that even the pedantic scholar Si Renyou was kneeling, the fire in his chest flared up again.
He drew his sword.
The sword was only half-drawn from its sheath when Gu Moran raised his hand and pressed it to his forehead.
The knife is still chipped.
They pulled it out pretty quickly.
I didn't understand everything.
Zhen Daijin shouted, "Even the pedantic scholar Si is kneeling, I can't just stand here pretending to be a block of wood."
"Your Highness, who do you want to hit?"
"If those Tubo dogs dare to come in, I'll take my men and break their legs!"
"Then, we'll launch a northern expedition to Anyang!"
Si Renyou turned his head to look at him.
" Commandant Zhen, you haven't even written the memorial yet, put away your sword first."
"You can write the memorials, I can kill people."
Gu Moran smiled.
He walked over, first helping Si Renyou, then looking at Zhen Daijin.
"We must strive."
"However, we can't just shout about the Northern Expedition carelessly."
"Our best solution right now is to have Father grant me military power first, and at the same time recall the old troops of the Liu Clan Army."
Si Renyou brushed the dust off his official robe and took the ink stick from Fang Bi.
"This old minister will write a memorial immediately."
Gu Moran returned to her desk and spread out a new sheet of paper.
Your son, Prince Yi Gu Moran, kowtows to wish Your Majesty good health.
Sunlight streamed into the study.
Zhen Daijin stood in front of the map, his finger tracing the mountain range of Jiannan Circuit all the way to the border.
He became increasingly restless as he looked at Gu Moran.
"Your Highness, I have a real question to ask."
Gu Moran didn't look up.
"Ask."
Zhen Daijin lowered his voice.
"If His Majesty truly entrusts the Jiannan Circuit troops to us, will we defend Tubo, or...?"
He didn't finish his sentence.
But everyone in the room understood what the second half of the sentence meant.
After writing the last character, Gu Moran put the brush down beside the inkstone.
"Defend Yi Prefecture first, and wait for an opportunity."
Si Renyou walked to the window and looked towards the south of the city.
The Tailwind Express mule cart had already driven out of the alley, its wheels rolling over the puddles, mud splattering onto the base of the blue brick wall.
" The Liu Clan Army has been scattered for too many years."
"Some died on the road to exile, some went into the Shu Road with caravans, and some melted down their swords and hid in the countryside to farm."
Si Renyou pressed down on the window frame, his palms feeling a layer of dampness.
"The remaining people may not even dare to recognize the name Liu."
Gu Moran did not try to persuade her.
The purge in Beijing was too brutal.
Those who survived changed their names, buried their military license plates in their ancestral graves, and hid their old wounds in their coarse clothes.
It will be difficult to get them to step forward again now.
Gu Moran pulled open the bottom drawer of the desk.
The wood scraped against the edges, making a soft sound that seeped into the room.
Si Renyou turned around.
Gu Moran took out a black cloth bag, untied the knot, and placed the half of the old token inside onto the map.
Zhen Daijin took half a step forward, his knee hitting the corner of the chair.
The chair leg dragged on the blue bricks with a dull thud, but he didn't bother to steady it.
The teacup in Si Renyou's hand fell to the ground.
Hot tea spilled onto the boots, and broken porcelain rolled under the desk.
"This is..."
He braced himself against the edge of the table and leaned over to look at the burn mark on the inside of the token.
General Gu Moran pushed the order under the lamp.
"I have half of Lord Liu's military order."
Zhen Daijin to touch it, but when his fingertips were still half an inch away from the bronze plaque, he withdrew his hand.
"Didn't this thing disappear along with the Liu Clan?"
He swallowed hard.
"Where did Your Highness get it?"
Si Renyou didn't urge him; his gaze remained fixed on Gu Moran's face.
This answer concerns the life of someone who has been hiding for sixteen years.
If the origin of the token is unclear, it is not a military order, but a death warrant.
Gu Moran turned the bronze plaque over, revealing three fine grooves on the inside of the broken edge.
"Received by chance."
Si Renyou tightened his grip on the table.
Gu Moran continued, "The person who delivered the order had severe old injuries, and his voice was ruined from the fever."
He could recite the order of the three hidden channels, and he also knew which half of the military command the Liu Clan father and son each held back then.
Zhen Daijin stared at the three thin grooves, his nostrils twitching a few times.
Gu Moran did not reveal her name.
He added, "The living have been hiding long enough. If Yi Prefecture cannot be defended, the grain routes, old camps, and people that the Liu Clan left behind in Chuan-Shu will also be lost."
Si Renyou took half a step back, his waist hitting the windowsill.
burn.
He also knew the rules governing the division of responsibilities between the Liu Clan father and son.
In this world, there are people who would hand over even half a token...
" Lord Liu..."
The two words were squeezed out between Si Renyou's teeth, and he immediately shut his mouth and turned to look at the doors and windows.
Zhen Daijin pressed his palm down on the corner of the table, causing the wooden table to creak softly.
"He's still alive?"
Gu Moran covered the military order with a black cloth again.
The person who gave me the military order refused to give his name.
That's enough.
Si Renyou looked down at the broken porcelain on the ground, his shoulders heaving twice.
He wiped his face with his hand, grabbed the hem of his official robe, and walked out.
Fang Bi chased after him to the door.
"Sir, the memorial is not finished yet."
"Keep writing!"
Si Renyou stepped across the threshold without stopping.
Fang Bi stood there, holding the ink stick.
Si Renyou turned halfway back.
I'm going to get an old book.
Gu Moran rewrapped the military order.
Zhen Daijin stood in front of the desk, staring at the black cloth for a moment.
"Your Highness, if word gets out that this thing, not all those who come will be our own people."
"Nature."
" Tubo spies, Prince An's informants, and those in the capital who are keeping an eye on the Liu Clan's old case will all come along."
Gu Moran put the black cloth bag back into the wooden drawer and locked it.
The token cannot be made public.
What truly needs to be revealed are signals that only those within the old ranks can understand, and that outsiders cannot fully comprehend.
Half an hour later, Si Renyou returned to the palace carrying an old wooden box.
His shoes were covered in mud, and sweat beaded on his forehead, yet he held the wooden box protectively in his arms.
The box lid was opened, and inside lay an old blue cloth book.
The paper is yellowed and the edges are frayed.
Si Renyou turned to the first page.
"List of Lord Liu's Former Deputies"
Gu Moran looked down.
Names lined up one after another.
Some were crossed out in red ink, with the words "injured," "exiled," "missing," or "died on the road" written next to them.
Turning to the second half of the book, it becomes clear that not many people have left their current addresses.
Si Renyou took out several old name cards and spread them on the table.
"These lines can still be tested."
Gu Moran looked through each one.
Some opened escort agencies, some established sects in Daoist temples, some followed merchant caravans on the Shu Road, and some hid in local military camps, only becoming insignificant junior officers.
Sixteen years later, the general sells charcoal at the street corner, and his personal guards copy letters from people's homes.
They didn't get their names cleared; they could only endure the hardship for now.
Gu Moran smoothed out the curled corners of the roster.
Choose the safest approach.
Si Renyou divided the name cards into three stacks.
"Your Highness is preparing to write a letter? Absolutely not! If it falls into someone else's hands, it will become a weapon against you."
"Of course it cannot be written."
Si Renyou stopped dividing the paper.
"Then how do we get them to accept the orders?"
Gu Moran looked out the window.
A string of red lanterns had just been hung under the eaves; the paste wasn't dry yet, and the paper still smelled faintly of bamboo.
As the year draws to a close, shops in the city are preparing lamps.
Water has been channeled through Ten-Li Slope, and the north-south official road is under construction.
The letter will be intercepted, and the person will be monitored.
What if the signal could be held in the sky?