A Drunkard’s Death

September, Year 10 of Emperor Xinlong's Reign

Dai, Capital of the Hua Empire

Xin Dynasty

Protector General Liang had died. It had had to happen eventually. One day or another, each and every man was called to continue his path in the form of a spirit. The commoners just hoped that the great General would be buried with as many pots of wine as his tomb could fit.

Without alcohol, he was sure to haunt the military camps at the border. He had been unpredictable in his life. In his death, he would be dangerous. The capital had spent the last twenty years quaking in fear that Protector General Liang, acting on impulse (for that venerable soldier was quite known for his impulses), would decide in the midst of battle to turn around, abandon his troops and calmly return to his tent. Effectively betraying his people for a pot of wine that might have gone missing between two arrows and the slash of a sword.

As a dead spirit, if he were to be unsatisfied with his final dwelling place, he might very well enact revenge in the form of high treason against the Hua Empire. There was something unfortunate in the fact that even the commoners never truly trusted the reports on Protector General Liang's supreme loyalty. Anyone who had ever crossed his path would know that those had been overinflated to flatter the Imperial Family rather than to draw a faithful portrait of the good General. And knowing his sons, at least the elder, it was doubtful Protector General Liang would ever be satisfied with the funeral that was bound to be prepared for him.

Older Lieutenant General Liang had the appearance of a filial son, though he had been adopted. He would make sure that his father's burial would strictly abide by the rites. Everything that was right and good would be included in the General's tomb. Though, whether that implied alcohol was doubtful. Older Lieutenant General Liang was renowned for his discipline. His actions were blameless, his bearing impeccable. He did not drink. Ever. And he was certainly not an ostentatious man. There was nothing extravagant about him. The funeral, if left to his sole care, would be called a respectable affair. There was nothing in this world his esteemed father would have hated more than a respectable affair.

Older Lieutenant General Liang was a case of the General having done a rare good deed by adopting some starving little commoner. However, that is as far as Protector General Liang's ability to do good went. Instead of favoring his own flesh and blood, he had always given Older Lieutenant General Liang precedence over the children his wife had borne him. As wild and abandoned to all reason as might have been that old, rotten carcass of resentment, anger and genius, it still had retained the ability differentiate good from bad throughout its lifetime. The general had always been clear about himself, and by extension, about others. Though he would have vomited all over his stained clothes at the thought of being called good or worthy, knowing full he was no such thing, he still valued aptitude and rectitude among his men. And Older Lieutenant General Liang had, since his youngest age, been the embodiment of aptitude and rectitude. Whereas the General's own children had been as bad, if not worse, than he was himself.

As respectable as he may have been, and coming from such a famous family, Older Lieutenant General Liang had never married. And it had been viewed as a true shame by more than one fond, matchmaking mother. Some, those who did not fear losing their tongue, liked to say that Older Lieutenant General Liang had, in his youth, developed tender feelings for a young girl he should have regarded as a sister. Since, indeed, she was his sister by law. She might not have been related by blood to him, she nonetheless was Protector General Liang's daughter. And as such, any feelings other than a loose, unbinding attachment should not have been tolerated between the two of them.

Among the General's countless achievements, the one that was regarded as his greatest was the fact that, on a specific day, twenty-two years ago, Protector General Liang's wife had delivered two children into the world. One of them had been the very shocking, expensive, offensive, heroic, bold, valiant Younger Colonel Liang. The other had been … a woman one was not to speak lightly of. In fact, lest one wished to offend the greatest of the spirits that dwelled in the palace, one should not even think of her.

Yes, on a specific day, twenty-two years ago, Madam Liang, whose maiden name was unknown for she had been of very low birth, had gifted her husband a pair of highly auspicious 'Dragon and Phoenix' twins. A boy and a girl. Meant to bring great glory to their parents. But of course, being Protector General Liang's children, they had brought none. Or at least, none to their esteemed ancestors. It is to the Empire they had had brought glory. Up until then.

Older Lieutenant General Liang might have been respectable and steady, always honoring his adoptive parents with his behavior, his measured speech and the basest displays of filial obedience. Younger Colonel Liang, on the other side, was unimaginably debauched, as befitted the natural son of the General. If Older Lieutenant General Liang succeeded in dragging him off to the border to shoulder his filial duties, he was sure to do something grotesque and obscene. Scandal brewed wherever he went. That at the very least would render the General's spirit happy. He had always liked a good mill.

As for the female part of that 'Dragon and Phoenix' pair. As previously mentioned, she was not one whose name was to be trifled with. At least, not by them lowly little people.

If one had not already concluded so by his description and needed further enlightenment, it was a known fact that Protector General Liang had been a miserable drunkard. A venerated miserable drunkard. He had spent the greatest part of his life stumbling about military camps in an ethylic haze. Whipping servants who had desperately tried to separate him from his pots of wine. Berating subordinates who had tried to talk some sense into him. The soldiers could have gone hungry. The officers might have been dying of the cold in the plains. But Protector General Liang was to have his pot of wine or else everything would go to waste. And when one meant 'everything', one meant the Empire.

Indeed, for all his faults, Protector General Liang was bound to become a 'Door Guardian'. That is how esteemed he was among his contemporaries. The commoners had started circulating cheap paintings of him before his body had gone cold. They would easily fray, fluttering in the wind, barely glued to the crude doors of the little people's dwellings. Flawed in the same way he had been. However, they were expected to do what the General had been doing for the last twenty years. Namely, protect their lives.

The only man who had ever been able to hold his own against the grand Hūna Empire. He had waged war against the barbarians with conviction. It is only under him that the Hua troops had earned themselves a name. Earned themselves fame. They had believed themselves cursed into losing every battle, losing every piece of land the Hūna would claim as theirs. Women, children, gold, silks, food. The Hūna had been violating the Hua Empire for over a century. Taking everything they could.

The only reason they had not taken over the whole Hua land was that the Hūna moved along their cattle, looking for greener pastures before coming back to their empire. Their interest in Hua land had never extended past the grasslands of the Yellow River. They rather preferred to carry out sporadic raids to supply themselves with what they did not have. Silk, precious stones, metals. And these raids did not only occur at the borders they shared with the Hua Empire. The Hūna made the world quake from East to West.

The climate of fear and humiliation that had kept a stronghold over the Hua people for a century had been the source from which had sprang one man. Who would one day become the great Protector General Liang. Not much had been known about his whereabouts before he had decided, one day, out of sheer caprice, to lead a troop of famished Hua soldiers into a raid against an Hūna stronghold. Without their commander's knowledge.

Protector General Liang, then simple commoner soldier without a name, convinced a very large group of soldiers into ill-prepared, unorganized attacks against the Hūna. Making his captain feel like his face had been pulled in the mud. Said captain had decided to have the bunch of ruffians beaten to death, after they had brought sacks of grain, salted meats and live horses (and wine) back to their starving encampment.

Then-unnamed Private Liang's venture had permitted to conclude two things.

The first conclusion had been that a nameless soldier, who would one day become Protector General Liang (and who thus, had not been beaten to death), was a filthy, treacherous wretch who had no respect for authority. He had joined the army to be fed, shod and dressed. If the army failed to live up to its part of the contract, in the eyes of the General, a private had all the rights to betray it for a better master. Young Liang had always been his own master.

The second conclusion had been that the daring Hūna, so terrifying in battle, relied on surprise attacks for a simple reason. There army was as disorganized as may be. Their Empire was made up of hundreds of different ethnicities that had joined under one confederacy of thieves and looters. Easily learning the rigid, uncreative tactics of the Hua, they had concluded that rapid, nightly raids would be the most efficient methods to get what they wanted.

But never had they thought there would one day be a group of Hua soldiers with no leather armors during a lonely night carrying out an improvised attack of their ill-guarded strongholds. Sending their soldiers into disarray. And then, like lowly pillagers (in other words, like the Hūna themselves), simply carrying their loot back to the Hua encampment.

That is how Protector General Liang's reign had begun. For it had been a reign. A reign that had transcended the northern steppes. A reign that had permitted him, in a certain form, to be almost seated on the highest of seats. There always was something of the General in the great Imperial Palace. Something that tyrannically expressed a will that could not have been but his.

From the moment he had decided that he would not starve to death without kicking up a dust and would certainly not accept punishment for it either, Private Liang had started to climb the military ladder at a frightening speed. From private to garrison commander. From garrison commander to detachment commander. From detachment commander to lieutenant. From lieutenant to captain. From captain to lieutenant colonel. From lieutenant colonel to colonel. From colonel to lieutenant general. And finally, twenty years ago, at the young age of thirty, he had become General Liang, Protector of the Northern Borders.

And from that day onward, Protector General Liang had unleashed all his pent-up anger and resentment unto the Hūna people, effectively dislodging them from their pastures of the Yellow River's northern side. Pushing them past Handan, past Dai and Dingxiang. Then, leaving the East, he had moved towards the West with his hopeful family and had been stationed there for the last eleven years. His eyes shining like a thief's whenever he would take a stroll about the border with the Hūna Empire. There had been this city he had been coveting …

Had the venerable General not decided to go swimming and ridiculously died the next day, he might have taken that city too. What had he not taken that the Hūna had viewed as theirs?!

That is why a lady selling boiled eggs at a stall on a pedestrian street sighed in sadness.

"What will happen to us now that the venerable has departed? The Barbarians will come back for their cities."

"Hush, auntie, don't say that! You want to curse us all?!", retorted the daughter-in-law of the potter from the other side of the street.

"What are you women doing, talking about such affairs? Tend to your children and leave the war to men. Not that we are in a good position, that we ain't. Now that the General has passed, we better starter leaving Dai before them Barbarians get some ideas of their own."

"Old man! What are you saying?! How dare you?! Are you questioning the one up above", a young passerby who had overheard the conversation and pointed menacingly to the side.

Ah, yes. The one above. Because, in this world, though he may have not known it himself, there was after all someone above Protector General Liang. And that someone was still very much alive.

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A group of light, cheerful voices were to be heard behind a heavy door inlayed with gold and silver. A commoner would have thought he had walked on on an assembly of immortals. Beings detached from earthly worries. They lived in a world where there were no wars besides the wars of jealousy. No generals besides those they liked to mock. No lives besides those they took for their pleasure.

Emperor Xinlong's court ladies were the most beautiful monstrosities the mortal world could bear. Crammed up in the Empress Consort's hall, they had come to pay their morning respects. Most of them were silent. Thus, one would have believed that at least one of the sing-song voices was the Empress Consort's. A wrong surmise.

The Empress Consort, personal name Liugui, was a women of few words. At twenty-four, she was already too old to be loved. So society would have said. And yet, she enjoyed the supreme favor of her ruler, whose only legal wife she happened to be. Well, not his only legal wife. There was one Imperial Noble Consort Huihuang with whom she had to share such an honor. But whomever knew said Imperial Noble Consort also knew that she was not a woman to share what she loved. Which implied that she did not love the Emperor.

Such single-mindedness in a court lady was not pleasing. But that was one thing Imperial Noble Consort Huihang could not have been accused of. Pleasing.

"And then, his wife hung herself on a tree by their slum", Imperial Concubine Qin screamed in a bout of hilarity.

Imperial Concubine Qin had a high-pitched voice. Some eunuchs said that whenever the Emperor visited her, he demanded that a cloth be shoved into her mouth. Because her shrill screams distracted him during …

The other court ladies were left in a dilemma. Whether laugh at Imperial Concubine Qin's words and thus flatter her. Potentially earning the hatred of Imperial Noble Consort Huihuang. The words Imperial Concubine Qin had spoken were bound to make their way to her. They could also keep their tongues between their teeth and earn themselves Imperial Concubine Qin's displeasure. They all knew what earning her displeasure implied.

Thankfully, the Empress Consort was a woman of tact and delicacy. And the mother of four princes and one princess. The Emperor's only children. Their Inner Palace was renowned for its frequent miscarriages and child deaths. Only the Empress Consort's pregnancies had been spared. One wondered why and how. Thus, the Empress Consort, though a gentle and lenient woman, held much power. Supreme power, some would have falsely said. At the very least, when she spoke, everyone listened. Even Imperial Concubine Qin.

"Little Sister should not mock a woman of worth. There is something pleasing in the virtue that a woman expresses by following her husband in death. However inelegant her means of joining him may appear to us. We are all women, we are all weak. We all, here present, know the hardships of women. What other choice did that poor soul have?"

"Big Sister is wise", Imperial Concubine Qin retorted, biting her full lips in frustration.

Such simple words that had made Imperial Concubine Qin's elegant spine straighten. Who did Liugui want to fool?! It was not the Emperor who favored her. But Imperial Noble Consort Huihuang. And what Imperial Noble Consort Huihuang loved, the Emperor was obliged to respect. This had held until now. Until now. But even the great Imperial Noble Consort Huihuang's reign had had to come to an end. She had been arrogant. And she had been tyrannical. She had managed the harem the way the Emperor managed his court. With elegant cruelty, with inflexible discipline.

It was said that law was supreme in the Palace and that the Emperor's favor was supreme in the harem. Indeed, a woman favored by the Emperor could kill, could steal, could torture. She would never be accused of anything. Or so it should have been. However, Imperial Noble Consort Huihuang had changed the laws of the Inner Palace as soon as she had stepped foot into it.

The written laws of the harem that no one enforced, she had enforced. She had chosen the women of the Emperor and presented them to the Empress Consort. She had coerced the Empress Consort into taking her rightful place. She had climbed the hierarchical ladder of the Inner Palace.

From concubine to consort. From consort to noble consort. From noble consort to imperial noble consort.

Though she had been the commoner daughter of a drunkard. Though she had been borne by a lowly dancer who had been given to a general after having been owned by a myriad of men. Though she had lived in slums, been whipped by the cold winds of the steppes, associated with Hūna merchants, ran around with boys of doubtful origin, swam in filthy rivers. Though she had not known poetry, been barely literate, had no talent on the zither. In short, she had had nothing to commend her.

Nothing to explain the great favor she enjoyed, the great affection Emperor Xinlong rained upon her daily. For all of her inadequacies, for all of her strong-headedness and vulgarity, he had still made her Imperial Noble Consort Huihuang.

Every time her father had conquered an Hūna stronghold, she had conquered a harem stronghold. She had been the daughter of Protector General Liang. The sister of Older Lieutenant General Liang. The twin sister of Younger Colonel Liang. The one woman whose name was not to be spoken in jest.

And everything she had achieved, everything she had ever had, had been because of a father who now was dead.

Whomever knew the games that were played in the Inner Palace also knew that the wolves had smelled blood. And that the reign of one Imperial Noble Consort Huihuang was about to come to an end.

But women in the harem had seen death more than once. Women in the harem had danced with demons. Been worshipped by murderers. And a hardy little steppe wench such as Liang Miaolan would not go down without a struggle. Just that the enemy she had chosen herself was not a handful of insignificant little court ladies.

No. The Liang Miaolan who was at that very moment lazily lying on her bed awaited an enemy much greater, much more powerful than a mere court lady. Ah-Li would come to demand his due. She knew him. Their tacit agreement had come to its end with her father's death. He would want to drink her blood, at the very least.

The last battle between the two of them was about to begin. The winner would be the last on standing.