Chapter 11: The Xie Family's End

Shen Miao lowered her head and played the shy girl.
Xie Jingxing died at twenty-two.
The late emperor meant to crush the Xie house. Ming Qi's throne, generation by generation, grew more muddled and weak—less mind for strengthening the realm than for self-preservation. Great clans were threats. As Fu Xiuyi would say: the Shen family stayed honest and still became a target. The Xies, who wouldn't take orders, were a thorn in the eye all the more.
When the Huns invaded, the Xies marched out. Xie Ding, wild on the battlefield all his life, ended with his whole army lost. Xie Jingxing waited in the capital for New Year and his father's return—and received a coffin.
Xie Ding's death wasn't the end. At the burial the people of the capital lined the road of their own will. The realm wept. For the throne, that was taboo.
Soon after, a young Xie Jingxing was ordered to take his father's command and go to war.
He wasn't new to battle. Like every Xie, his gift on the field made enemies tremble. Yet everyone knew Xie Ding's death was strange—and this imperial decree was nearly a death sentence in plain words.
Xie Jingxing still took it. Still went. Still lost. That day he was exposed to the enemy host and took ten thousand arrows. Worse—the body was taken. The Huns flayed him and hung him on the wall to dry, a warning to all.
The same brutal end played again. Ming Qi mourned as one.
Father and son dead in war. The people saw only Hun cruelty and the general's valor—not the undercurrents beneath the plot.
By then the late emperor was failing. Fu Xiuyi ran court affairs, sighed over the Xies' fate, and posthumously ennobled father and son. Titles for the dead—while the consolation silver went to the concubine and the two younger sons.
Shen Miao remembered Shen Xin's face when news of Xie Jingxing came. She had thought the two houses were bitter foes; the Xies' fall shouldn't grieve her father. Looking back, Shen Xin must already have felt: when the rabbit dies, the fox grieves next.
Balance was broken. Xie fell—then Shen.
Absurd that she had then thrown her own house into the succession swamp.
She had no special feeling for the Xies—yet she had mourned this youth's fate. Such a brilliant man should have left a bold stroke on Ming Qi's history. Instead he left this way—and knowing the decree was a call to death, he still went.
Perhaps to keep the Xie name's pride—to prove the clan's spine never broke. To do the impossible on purpose showed the man under the wild mask.
A very straight, very brave soul, she thought.
As she thought, Cai Lin pushed out of the crowd with a small bundle and offered it with full respect. "Young Marquis, the rare medical text you asked me to find."
The local bully, this humble—jaws dropped. Then again—next to Cai Lin, Xie Jingxing was the capital's greater bully. The Xies were bullies among bullies. Cai Lin's manner made sense.
Feng Anning whispered in her ear, "How does Young Marquis Xie compare to Prince Ding?"
Shen Miao choked. Feng Anning's sudden warmth still felt odd. She said seriously, "Young Marquis Xie is far better."
Far more than a notch. In her view, a black-hearted wretch like Fu Xiuyi couldn't sit in the same sentence as a youth like Xie Jingxing. When Wanyu and Fu Ming read Ming Qi's official history and reached the Xie chapter, they had whispered to her that Xie Jingxing was a man who stood against heaven—and died too soon.
If her own children praised him, he had to be good.
Feng Anning was surprised. After a pause: "So you really were hurt that badly."
Shen Miao couldn't be bothered to explain. On horseback Xie Jingxing took the bundle, tied it to the saddle, glanced at Cai Lin, said nothing, and wheeled away with a flick of the crop.
Dust rolled up but couldn't hide the rider on the horse—like the morning sun, born to blind the eye.
Cai Lin looked deflated. The girls couldn't hide disappointment—they had wanted him to stay. Oddly, Xie Jingxing was the one noble son girls adored while boys didn't envy him for it. His ways were so unlike others that men only admired.
Shen Miao hid the thought in her eyes. When the Xie house fell, the Shen house would face disaster. Lip and teeth—could the feud soften? If the throne moved, perhaps it would weigh whether it dared.
Save the Xies. Save Xie Jingxing. That would be a chip for the Shen house.
The Shens were honest and dull; the Xies were proud and unruly. The throne would strike the Xies first. Perhaps she could strike a deal with them.
…
Xie Jingxing rode on until he reined in before a tavern.
He swung down and walked straight to the innermost private room. A young man in white, delicate face, smiled when he saw him. "Third Brother."
"Take it." Xie Jingxing tossed the bundle. "Don't ask me for this again."
If Gao Yang hadn't begged him to hunt down some rare medical classic, he wouldn't have gone to Cai Lin—or stood like a fool at Guangwen Hall for everyone to stare at. Thinking of that silk flower, he brushed his robe in disgust.
Gao Yang knew his junior brother's fastidious habits. He smiled and teased, "You ought to get out more. Those students are your age—you could use their spark." He paused, mischief on his face. "Maybe a sweet girl too. You're at the right age—why live like a lone wolf?"
Xie Jingxing was used to his senior's proper outside and bored inside. He turned his head, impatient—and his mind caught on a pair of eyes from a moment ago.
Clear as a young beast's—yet holding deep pity and helplessness. The look had startled him. Then their owner had bowed her head, as if shy.
But Xie Jingxing was who he was. He had followed his father south and north as a boy, fought and killed, and trained eyes that saw through fire. That girl probably meant to play smitten. She didn't know her own eyes were a dead pool—no ripple at all.
Very interesting.