Chapter 30: The New Leader of the Qi Faction, Murong Mubai

Zhao Bingchun clung to his last hope as if grabbing a lifeline, hurriedly instructing his servants to change clothes, and quickly made his way to the most mysterious mansion in Fengcheng.

At that moment, deep within the mansion’s grand study, a man around fifty, with a dignified countenance and meticulously combed graying hair, sat in white nightclothes by the brazier, engrossed in an ancient scroll, occasionally nodding in appreciation.

“Master, the magistrate of Fengcheng, Zhao Bingchun, requests an audience. He claims to have an urgent matter to discuss…”

A servant timidly reported from outside.

“Hm?” Murong Mubai’s stern brows furrowed instantly. What business could this insignificant official have, visiting so late? Could something have happened in Fengcheng? The thought sent a chill through Murong Mubai’s heart.

After pondering a moment, he spoke, “Someone, bring me my clothes.”

“Yes, sir.”

…

Soon enough, Zhao Bingchun was led into Murong Mubai’s study. He dropped to his knees, bowing deeply in respect.

“Student Zhao Bingchun pays his respects to Master Murong.”

Though Murong Mubai held little regard for minor officials like Zhao Bingchun, his ancestral home lay under Zhao’s jurisdiction, so he felt obliged to show some courtesy.

He spoke coolly, “Rise, Magistrate Zhao. What brings you here so late?”

Zhao Bingchun, confident in his plan, carefully presented a newly written scroll, placing it before Murong Mubai with a hint of flattery.

“Master, this is a poem penned by a scholar of our county. I found it brilliant and extraordinary, and wished for you to appraise it.”

“Oh?” At the mention of poetry, especially with such high praise from Zhao Bingchun, Murong Mubai’s interest was piqued. He immediately unrolled the scroll himself.

“Born with talent, I am destined to be useful; though a fortune be spent, it shall return anew.”

In that instant, even Murong Mubai, a high official and the new leader of the Qi faction, was struck. His eyes narrowed, his posture grew rigid.

Who could have imagined—in this bitter, desolate land of Qizhou, where literary culture languished—such a brilliant poem could emerge from a young scholar?

This level of talent would shine even in the capital!

He could not help but praise, “A fine poem, truly a fine poem! Its spirit is even finer.”

“To think that a scholar of Fengcheng possesses such genius! This calls for a grand toast, a grand toast indeed!”

Seeing his lifeline working wonders, Zhao Bingchun was overjoyed, smiling broadly as he hastened to flatter Murong Mubai further.

All his words credited Murong Mubai’s influence for nurturing such talent in Fengcheng.

But Murong Mubai had no time for Zhao Bingchun’s flattery now. He pressed urgently, “Upon hearing these verses, I wonder—are they part of a regulated poem or a seven-character quatrain? What are the opening and closing lines?”

“This…” Zhao Bingchun was momentarily stumped, cold sweat breaking out on his brow.

Yet, years of officialdom had honed his quick thinking. He replied respectfully, “To answer, Master, I only just received these two lines and do not yet know the rest. However, I have already sent someone to fetch the scholar from his home.”

“I believe, by tomorrow morning, you will have your answer…”

Murong Mubai relaxed a little at this, though he shot Zhao Bingchun a mildly displeased glare.

“So, Magistrate Zhao, you’re merely toying with me, keeping me in suspense?”

“Ah?” Zhao Bingchun nearly lost control, hurriedly kneeling again, knocking his head to the floor.

“Master, I would never dare! I only wished for you to be the first to read these lines—no other intention!”

Seeing his admonition had the desired effect, Murong Mubai burst into hearty laughter.

“Magistrate Zhao, what are you doing? I was only teasing you. Come, I am in excellent spirits today—join me for a drink!”

…

Thanks to the joy brought by Li Yuanjing’s verses, Murong Mubai enjoyed the feast immensely. As wine warmed his spirits, he recited the lines with increasing emotion and vigor.

Yet, in such a vast estate, his exuberance stood out.

Having spent the previous night away and slept all day at home, young master Murong Kai was quickly drawn by the commotion. He hurried over.

“Father, what are you making such noise for at this hour?”

“Greetings, Young Master Murong,” Zhao Bingchun respectfully bowed.

Had Li Yuanjing been present, he would have recognized instantly—this was the nobleman Wang Youdao had accompanied, the true owner who purchased his giant catfish.

“Kai, come, look—what do you think of these verses?”

Murong Mubai, who had fathered Murong Kai late in life, cherished his son dearly. Though Kai was somewhat unruly, his talent was undeniable, and he had earned a notable reputation in the capital at a young age.

This made Murong Mubai particularly fond of him.

He set Li Yuanjing’s poem before Murong Kai.

“Born with talent, I am destined to be useful; though a fortune be spent, it shall return anew.”

“My goodness!” Murong Kai, a poetry enthusiast raised in privilege, was so stunned by the brilliance that he exclaimed in the local dialect.

He cried out excitedly, “Father, father, who wrote these lines? I am utterly awed! What spirit, what experience must one possess to compose such verses?”

Murong Mubai, quite proud himself, replied loftily, “Written by a young scholar of Fengcheng. Kai, do you still think yourself the foremost in Qizhou?”

“Father, father! This man is a genius, a true genius. I must meet him at once for a proper exchange!”

Murong Kai’s face flushed with excitement, eager to seek out Li Yuanjing immediately.

Murong Mubai admired his son’s scholarly zeal, though he feigned displeasure.

“Nonsense! It’s far too late to disturb someone’s rest. Magistrate Zhao has already sent for the scholar. By morning, you shall meet him.”

Yet as he spoke, cold sweat once more trickled down Zhao Bingchun’s brow.

He had only said so in passing—he had not actually sent anyone to fetch Li Yuanjing. If the young master pressed the matter now, how could he save face?

But Murong Kai, caught up in excitement, paid no heed to his father’s words and turned to Zhao Bingchun.

“Magistrate Zhao, I must trouble you further—I wish to meet this great talent tonight!”

“This…” Zhao Bingchun looked pleadingly at Murong Mubai.

Truthfully, Murong Mubai himself was itching with curiosity, desperate to see the complete poem. He sighed, pretending difficulty.

“Well, since you are all so determined, do as you wish.”

Murong Kai was overjoyed, bowing respectfully to his father.

“Thank you, father, thank you!”

Zhao Bingchun too breathed a sigh of relief, thinking, “Tonight, I must put my old bones to work, keeping this young master company.”

Yet soon enough, Zhao Bingchun was elated.

Such an opportunity was a rare blessing—others could only dream of it.

…

Shortly thereafter, Zhao Bingchun and Murong Mubai returned to the county office to gather men.

Despite being the magistrate of Fengcheng, the county itself was the only place truly under his or the court’s control. The outskirts were beyond his reach.

Especially with young master Murong Kai’s safety at stake, Zhao Bingchun dared not be careless.

He summoned nearly a hundred constables and soldiers from the county office, and by the time all was ready, it was already the second watch.

Ignoring the dark, windy night, they had Ma Huan lead the way, and the whole entourage set out in grand procession toward Quanzi Village.