Chapter 49 In the End, Affection Was Misplaced

Northern Frontier.

The cold wind blew bitterly, and heavy snow drifted through the air.

Along the snow-covered imperial highway, refugees huddled, pulling their hands into their sleeves as they trudged forward with numb expressions.

Looking into the distance, the long procession stretched for over a hundred miles.

Black and dense, they appeared like countless dark dots scattered across a world of pristine white, innumerable and tightly packed.

"Master, Zixu is gone."

A scholar dressed in thin, threadbare garments spoke to Qiu Xingzhi with a hollow, numb expression.

Qiu Xingzhi’s hand, which had just been raised, trembled involuntarily in mid-air. Then, in a hoarse voice, he said, "I know. Ensure he is given a proper burial."

With that, he continued handing out the last remnants of the dry rations from his pouch to a little refugee girl.

More than half a month ago, Qiu Xingzhi should have left Shuanglin City alongside Hu Xu.

Yet that very night, he received a letter from his student in Danxia City: The plague is raging, and corpses pile up like rivers.

Those mere eight characters left Qiu Xingzhi no time to bid farewell to Hu Xu; he hurried hastily toward Danxia City instead.

Upon arrival, he was met with a living purgatory.

Tens of thousands of commoners had contracted the plague. They coughed violently; some burned with unceasing, searing fevers, while others shook like leaves in the wind, convulsing endlessly. Worse still, the majority were covered from head to toe in red rashes, festering with pus and ulcers until they died in excruciating agony.

Although Qiu Xingzhi was a revered scholar of Confucianism, he knew nothing of medicine.

Fortunately, he still commanded respect within the scholarly circles, so he immediately summoned men of insight and invited physicians to aid the sick.

However, after the very first physician was infected, the rest were gripped by terror.

In the end, at the mere mention of treating the plague, no one dared to offer assistance, regardless of how he pleaded.

With no other choice, Qiu Xingzhi could only follow the refugees out of Danxia City, where he witnessed a scene that plunged him into even deeper despair.

The imperial court of Daqi had dispatched troops under the pretext of preventing the spread of the plague, intending to massacre all the refugees.

That night, far too many perished beneath the cold, merciless blades of Daqi’s soldiers.

Afterwards, the army burned the corpses and submitted a victory report to the imperial court.

Similar tragedies unfolded one after another in the major cities struck by the plague. More and more refugees lost their homes and, driven to desperation, had no choice but to flee northward.

"Master, will the Prince of Chu truly take in these refugees?"

The scholar from earlier asked softly, his eyes rimmed with red.

He had originally been a student at the Imperial Academy, but to follow his master, he had resolutely abandoned that place.

Along this arduous journey, they had endured countless hardships, yet gazing at the endless sea of refugees, the scholar felt utterly lost.

Qiu Xingzhi smiled faintly. "He will. As long as we can reach Beining City, the Prince of Chu will surely take them in."

As he spoke these words, Qiu Xingzhi straightened his back and gazed northward, as if vaguely catching sight of Qin Xuan’s resolute face.

"Your Highness, the Prince of Chu, surely you will take in the refugees?!"

Qiu Xingzhi asked himself in his heart, though only he knew the bitterness lingering at the corners of his mouth.

Three days later, the massive procession of refugees finally crossed into the territory of Beining City.

Looking at the empty, desolate imperial highway, Qiu Xingzhi felt a wave of disappointment wash over him.

Logically speaking, Beining City should have received news of the refugees heading north long ago. If Qin Xuan truly intended to accept these refugees, he ought to have sent soldiers out to welcome them.

Yet at this moment, the entire road was completely deserted, swept only by a chilling, desolate wind.

"Could I have misjudged him?"

A heavy suppression weighed upon Qiu Xingzhi’s heart, but he gritted his teeth and pressed forward in silence.

An hour later, the gates of Beining City finally came into faint view, yet the despair in Qiu Xingzhi’s heart slowly began to sprout.

Still no one had come to meet them. Had the Prince of Chu forgotten his original aspiration?

Qiu Xingzhi was neither a pedantic scholar nor stubborn beyond reason; naturally, he understood what these two hundred thousand refugees implied.

Let alone the fact that the Prince of Chu possessed mere Beining City, even a formidable power like the Jurchen nation would likely not dare to rashly absorb twenty thousand refugees—let alone a multitude infected with a plague.

"Master, why are we not seeing the Divine Strategy Army?"

When Qin Xuan originally left the capital, those one hundred thousand troops of the Divine Strategy Army had been breathtakingly majestic, leaving an unforgettable impression on everyone who saw them.

Yet now, when people longed most to see them appear, they had vanished.

Watching the disappointment in his student’s eyes, Qiu Xingzhi felt a pang of sorrow in his heart as well. Nevertheless, he forced a smile and said, "With the freezing weather, perhaps they are simply waiting for us to draw a little closer."

"Really? Then won't we all be saved?"

The scholar was, after all, inexperienced in the ways of the world, capable only of imagining a favorable outcome without ever considering what might happen if they were turned away.

"Saved or not saved... perhaps you are just as conflicted inside!"

Qiu Xingzhi chanted silently to himself.

If Beining City ultimately refused to accept the refugees, reason told Qiu Xingzhi that this might actually be the best possible outcome.

He had known Qin Xuan for many years and was well aware of the man’s grand ambitions—he was a hero capable of bringing hope to the common people of the world.

Yet these two hundred thousand refugees before them could very well shatter his ideals, destroy his foundation, and plunge him into eternal damnation.

"Heaven and earth are ruthless, treating all things as straw dogs. I, Qiu Xingzhi, blame neither heaven nor earth, and least of all do I blame you, the Prince of Chu. But if the heavens truly have a spirit, let this decadent Daqi awaken at last!"

Qiu Xingzhi let out a long sigh toward the heavens, his eyes burning red.

Many of the refugees he had cared for stepped forward to show their concern, but Qiu Xingzhi merely offered a strained smile and said, "Let everyone quicken their pace; we are about to reach Beining City."

Even though his heart was filled with uncertainty, Qiu Xingzhi simply could not bear to extinguish the refugees' final flicker of hope with his own hands at this very last moment.

Perhaps if they held onto that hope until they reached the city gates, the subsequent despair would be slightly easier for them to bear.

A brief, faint cheer rippled through the refugee ranks—so feeble, for far too many had already exhausted their remaining strength.

"Thud!"

An elderly man suddenly collapsed onto the ground. Qiu Xingzhi hurried forward to help him up, only to discover that the old man's breathing had already stopped.

A sharp pain pierced his heart. He raised his head to look at Beining City, now close enough to touch, and fell into a silent stillness.

Nearby, whether family or friend, not a single tear fell. Instead, with expressions of painful numbness, they merely shook their heads at Qiu Xingzhi. "Master Qiu, let us go. It was simply his bad time to die."

Tears had long since run dry the moment their homes were shattered and their families destroyed!

Was it truly just bad luck?

This was the original sin of the Daqi imperial court.

Qiu Xingzhi desperately wanted to curse aloud, but he too had run out of strength.

He straightened his swaying body, praying that the moment he looked up, a miracle would unfold—that he would see Qin Xuan charging toward them on horseback at the head of the Divine Strategy Army.

Yet, though they were now within half a mile of the city gates, before his eyes lay nothing save an endless expanse of white, drifting snow.

"It seems I was wrong to place my trust in him after all!"

Qiu Xingzhi let out a bitter laugh, his entire spirit and vitality seeming completely drained away in that single instant.

Yet at that very moment, a dark shadow burst forth from the boundless white snow:

"By the order of the Prince of Chu, escort the refugees into the city!"

"No one shall crowd or push! Form ranks and march forward in an orderly line! Anyone who disobeys will be executed without mercy!"

Following that, the sound of thundering hooves echoed from ahead. The familiar and dazzling silver armor stood out with striking brilliance amidst the swirling snow, glowing like the sun.

The young, handsome prince was riding slowly toward them upon a warhorse.

At this moment, Qiu Xingzhi wept aloud.