Chapter 231 - 225: The Autumn of Mingyi

Chapter 231: Chapter 225: The Autumn of Mingyi

It was the twenty-eighth of the twelfth lunar month, only two days before New Year’s Eve.

At the exit of Shenghai South Station, a tide of humanity surged forth, yet there was little festive cheer to be found.

Tang Nianzhen had a thick, black scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face, disguised as a female textile mill worker.

She had been standing at the arrival gate for hours. The stream of people flowing past her was mostly made up of refugees, their faces caked with dust and grime, their families in tow.

The clothes they wore were tattered and unsuited for the season. After a long and arduous journey, their eyes were numb, save for a brief, faint glimmer of hope that struggled to appear the moment they stepped out of the station.

Tang Nianzhen’s heart sank.

The Xin Republic had been defeated in the Southwest. Rogue armies had seized the opportunity to expand their power, and the flames of war were now threatening to engulf the Southeast.

The Northern Army would not let this opportunity pass. According to intelligence from her organization, the North and South had already clashed more than a dozen times, in skirmishes both large and small, in the last half-month alone.

The nation, it seemed, was about to slide back into the quagmire of the old warlord era—from North to South, war was breaking out everywhere.

Tang Nianzhen pitied these refugees displaced by the ravages of war, and she despised the state of the world even more.

In the Southwest, the dead littered the fields from starvation, people were dying silently every second of every day. Yet here, on the very ground she stood, in this so-called "prosperous" Shanghai, the nights were still a dizzying blur of music, carousing, and fine wine.

Those people were blind to their compatriots suffering through hell, their minds consumed with how to squeeze every last drop of profit from this vast, corrupt state apparatus and line their own pockets.

They cared only for their own interests, not whether others lived or died.

’What a cold, absurd world!’

’But... things are about to get better.’

Tang Nianzhen tightened her scarf, as if to hold down the warmth that was quietly blooming in her chest.

The gentleman was arriving in Shenghai today to meet with representatives from the Southeastern Provinces. They would determine the strategy for saving the nation for years to come.

And with the gold raised from overseas...

’There’s still hope.’

At this thought, a flicker of warmth sparked in Tang Nianzhen’s heart. She stamped her numb feet and trotted over to a nearby vendor’s cart, where she bought two steaming-hot roasted sweet potatoes.

She walked back and offered one to Tang Jing, who stood beside her.

"Here, Sister. Warm your hands."

Tang Jing was dressed in a trench coat, her face likewise hidden by a hat and a long scarf, revealing only a pair of cold, clear eyes. She glanced at the sweet potato, which was letting off fragrant white steam, and said flatly, "I don’t want it."

Tang Nianzhen opened her mouth to speak, but ultimately said nothing more. She silently peeled one of the sweet potatoes and began to eat it in small bites.

They were cousins.

Tang Nianzhen had been groomed by her family since she was a child. At sixteen, she was sent abroad, where she received several years of military training and was steeped in new, modern ideologies. Upon her return, she threw herself into the revolution.

Tang Jing was different. At the age of six, she had left with a master to train overseas. Still young, she had already achieved a high level of martial skill and was immensely proud.

Tang Nianzhen had personally invited Tang Jing to return to the country. But since arriving in Shenghai, her cousin’s pride seemed to have suffered one blow after another. She had grown especially quiet after the failure of the "Operation Fish Guard."

Tang Nianzhen had never quite known how to talk to her assertive cousin, so she just lowered her head and focused on her sweet potato.

She had just finished the first and was reaching for the second when Tang Jing suddenly spoke. "Are you a pig or something? Stop eating. He’s here."

Before the words were even out of her mouth, she had already turned and was striding briskly in another direction.

Tang Nianzhen froze for a second, then hastily shoved the sweet potato inside her coat and hurried to catch up.

She hadn’t gone far before she spotted the figure standing by the exit—a middle-aged man of average height with a beard, dressed simply, like a common schoolteacher.

But a closer look revealed a light in his eyes—a conviction as serene as the deep sea, yet intensely brilliant.

’Li Mingyi... Mr. Mingyi!’

Seeing the man in person, Tang Nianzhen felt her heart was about to leap out of her chest.

She had seen his photograph countless times, but seeing him in the flesh, she could not suppress the wave of reverence and excitement that washed over her.

Tang Jing moved so quickly that Tang Nianzhen had to break into a trot just to keep up.

Dispersed throughout the crowd at the station exit were many of their comrades. Besides the two of them, several others were now quietly converging on Li Mingyi from different directions, while the rest remained on high alert, ready to provide backup.

Just as the two cousins were about to reach Li Mingyi’s side, the crowd in front of them suddenly roiled. A dozen men appeared out of nowhere, surrounding Li Mingyi in an instant and blocking him from view!

The Revolutionaries hidden in the crowd were enraged by the sight. Casting aside their cover, they prepared to charge forward.

Tang Jing reacted just as swiftly. A narrow, curved blade slid from her sleeve with a flick of her wrist. She was about to lunge forward when a figure stepped into her path, blocking her way!

"Instructor!"

The man who stopped Tang Jing was an imposing figure dressed as a rickshaw puller. He glanced at the two cousins, his voice flat yet carrying an air of unquestionable authority. "For the next few days, Li Mingyi will be a guest at Mr. Wen’s residence.

"We will be responsible for his safety. Tell your people to stand down."

"You—"

Tang Jing’s expression was grim. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped her blade, but under the man’s calm, detached gaze, she hesitated to make a move.

Just then, a tall figure emerged from the crowd, came up to them, and gently tugged on Tang Jing’s sleeve, whispering a few words to her.

Only then did Tang Jing’s tense body slowly relax. With a cold snort, she slid the blade back into her sleeve.

Throughout the crowd, the other Revolutionaries also halted in their tracks. Though their faces were filled with resentment, they could only watch helplessly as Li Mingyi was whisked away by the group of men, quickly vanishing into the station’s chaotic throng.

.......

「Wen Mansion, the study.」

Madam Ding sat quietly at a table, her gaze lowered, focused on the tea set in her hands.

The elegant, clear scent of tea curled and diffused through the room.

Seven or eight paces away, a tall man with graying temples stood smoking a cigarette, quietly contemplating a piece of calligraphy hanging on the wall—

"A heart as vast as the valley, a spirit that soars past the clouds."

The brushwork was powerful and vigorous, looking like the work of a master, yet it bore no signature. Judging by the pristine new frame, it had been hung only recently.

"Moshan..."

The man standing before the calligraphy suddenly spoke in a low voice. "How many years have we known each other?"

Madam Ding, who was raising a copper kettle to pour water, paused almost imperceptibly. She thought for a moment before answering, "Almost twelve years."

"Twelve years already..."

the man said, a note of melancholy in his voice. "Time really does fly.

I still remember when we first met. There was no Xin Republic then. You were just a Steward in the Qinglian Gang’s Lu An Hall, and I was just a lowly Reviewing Officer working under an assistant in Shenghai County..."

Madam Ding set the kettle down gently. "Sir, why are you suddenly reminiscing about such old affairs?"

"These past few days, my mind keeps drifting back to old faces and old times.

Maybe it’s because I’m getting old. Or maybe... I’m afraid."

The man turned around slowly, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

"I’m always afraid of taking a single wrong step and dragging all of you—my old friends, my old comrades—down into the irredeemable abyss with me."