ITVCFITB CHAPTER 57

 Chapter 57 — Laying Down the Law

Li Mingjin led a grand column through the city gates, Luo Shuyu’s carriage rolling at the center of the entourage.

They were met by Zhu Chengye, Prefect of Gucheng.

“Your Highness the Third Prince, Your Highness the Third Prince Consort,” Prefect Zhu saluted.

Li Mingjin kept his tone cordial. “No need for ceremony.”

Zhu’s skin was dark, and when he smiled he flashed eight bright teeth. “Then allow this humble official to take Your Highnesses to the residence we’ve readied.”

After a month on the road, a wash and a rest came first. “Good. We’ll settle in and discuss business tomorrow,” Li Mingjin said.

“I’ll host a welcoming banquet tomorrow night to cleanse the dust of travel,” Zhu offered.

Li Mingjin nodded, brief as ever. “Fine.”

“Please, this way,” Zhu said, still wearing that big, harmless smile.

He led them toward a three-courtyard compound.

Everyone rode except Luo Shuyu, who remained in the carriage. It was the dead of winter; only a few townsfolk were out on the streets, faces numb and lifeless. Perhaps it was just the cold.

Luo Shuyu exhaled a plume of white. Outside was truly frigid. Anyone still out had no choice.

A new city, a new house, everything new.

Here, there were no princely rivals breathing down their necks, no daily, prying eyes. For the moment, at least, no malice aimed their way.

Even so, they couldn’t afford to relax.

The residence Zhu had arranged wasn’t as elegant or expansive as their one in the capital, but by Gucheng standards it was among the finest, ample for one or two years. Luo Shuyu and Li Mingjin took it without complaint, which clearly surprised Zhu, who had expected capital-bred fussiness. He completed his escort’s duties and withdrew.

Qingwang organized the servants to sweep the main courtyard and set up their room for the night. They even saw the famed northern kang, a raised, heated platform that doubled as a bed. Practical and neat.

Once the rooms were ready, the two of them collapsed onto the warm kang and slept like the dead. No games, no flirting, just the boneless sleep of men who had been strung tight for a month.

---

At dawn, Luo Shuyu woke first to test-drive “northern life.” Breakfast wouldn’t be the capital’s dainty spreads; he’d already adjusted to rougher fare on the road, but if he could make it good, he would.

Cold burns calories and Li Mingjin needed to eat his fill.

They had brought two chefs from the capital; by first light, steam was already puffing from bamboo baskets of soft, fragrant buns.

Just as Luo Shuyu checked on the kitchen, Qingwang hurried in.

“Master.”

“What is it?” Luo Shuyu sipped hot tea.

“Mr. Chen, water and earth don’t agree with him. He’s been both retching and… the other way.”

“Call Dr. Fang to take his pulse,” Luo Shuyu said at once, the same physician who’d treated Li Mingjin’s leg. “Though his specialty is trauma.”

“We did, but the medicine didn’t help. The attendants say Mr. Chen’s running a high fever and won’t wake.”

“Then find a city doctor who knows this kind of ailment. Ask around, if there’s someone skilled, bring him here immediately.”

Chen Rong had insisted on coming north. Given his health, making it a whole month before collapsing was practically a miracle.

He was, frankly, the very picture of the soldier’s stereotype: the one who fell ill every other day.

Even so, both Li Mingjin and Luo Shuyu had cosseted him all the way. The best food went to him; they hardly let his feet touch the ground. And still he crashed.

Li Mingjin rose later. Hearing there was a physician summoned, he asked, “Someone’s sick?” He instinctively put a palm to Luo Shuyu’s forehead. “Not you, good.”

“It’s Mr. Chen,” Luo Shuyu said. “Vomiting and diarrhea yesterday then high fever today. I’ve sent for a city doctor.”

“After breakfast, we’ll both go check on him.”

The servants got lucky and returned quickly with a white-bearded local physician. He prescribed, they decocted, and at last, the fever began to ebb. What Dr. Fang failed to do in a sleepless night, this local managed in one pot.

They thanked him in the main hall. As he prepared to leave, Luo Shuyu tossed out a casual question: “I’ve heard there’s a doctor in these parts they call ‘the Cure-All for Poisons.’ Any truth to that rumor?”

A flicker crossed the man’s face. “Cure-All for… poisons? Your Highness may have misheard. I’ve never heard of such a person.”

Luo Shuyu clocked the micro-pause, but only smiled. “Road gossip, then. I suppose those wandering-physician tales are just storybook stuff.”

“I wouldn’t dare speak rashly, but truly… never heard of him,” the doctor said, bowing his way out.

As soon as he was gone, Li Mingjin murmured, “He lied. The moment you said ‘Cure-All’ his face twisted.”

“I saw it too. Should we tail him?”

“Already done.” Li Mingjin’s eyes were cool. “An Jiu is on him.”

It was astonishing: no leads for weeks, and the moment they reached Gucheng, a thread appeared. Coincidence or fortune?

They checked on Chen Rong; his fever dropped and he was lucid, but pale and thinned by the road. The man needed cosseting; how he ever “traveled the world” in this body beggared belief.

“Thank you, both,” Chen said hoarsely. “I can manage.”

“What is it, exactly?” Li Mingjin asked.

Chen coughed, and kept coughing, until an attendant had to steady him. Luo Shuyu cut in gently, “Rest two days. When you’ve recovered, we’ll feed you the best local specialties.”

Li Mingjin nodded. “Focus on getting better.”

He ordered the attendants to keep a close watch and report anything, immediately.

They’d left Steward Sun behind to keep the capital house running. The Sun family’s loyalty had been tested in another lifetime; Luo Shuyu trusted him more than most.

By the end of the day, the trunks were sorted, the old house scrubbed; fresh curtains hung where needed. They couldn’t change the bones of the place, but their main courtyard now felt seventy percent like home. Outside, there was no greenery to be coaxed from frozen soil, only shoveled snow and pruned deadwood. Northern winters didn’t even allow a scrap of green on branches. Bleak, yes, but they’d chosen this. Endure the winter and spring would come. Choose comfort, and the end would be a straw mat and a mass grave.

He repeated it to himself: This is our new life. Learn to enjoy it. Treasure it. Make it yours.

It would become a memory he’d never forget.

“Bitter first, sweet later,” the book had said. “Those who can eat bitterness become those above.”

The day vanished. Evening brought the cleansing banquet at Prefect Zhu’s residence close by.

They arrived neither early nor late; in Gucheng, the two of them now outranked everyone present.

Zhu himself met them, ushered them to the main hall, and seated them at the head. The room was packed: local officials, local commanders, and the commanders Li Mingjin had brought north. Lively, on the surface. Underneath… who knew.

Zhu launched into introductions with great enthusiasm.

First he presented the sons of General Wei of the Northern Garrison: one around forty, the other in his thirties.

“These two are General Wei Lin-yuan and Deputy General Wei Lin-mu.”

Both men saluted with impeccable measure. “Your Highness the Third Prince. Your Highness the Third Prince Consort.”

Li Mingjin stood to lift them by the elbows. “No need for ceremony. Tonight we’re here to eat and drink. I’ll put faces to names.”

In unison, the Wei brothers replied, “yes.”

Luo Shuyu sat with the right degree of presence, seen but not intrusive, silently cataloging faces and posts. Without Chen here, he’d be Li Mingjin’s second ledger.

The book had painted Wei’s sons as arrogant, mannerless bullies. In person, they carried a proud edge, yes, but it was the field-forged confidence of men who had bled for their banners. Luo Shuyu found no boorish contempt in them.

Had the book twisted people because it only saw them through Shen Mingyun’s eyes?

In Shen’s lens, those who knew how to advance and retreat all became heartless villains. Did the man have eye trouble?

Still, this was only a first impression. True measure came from working together. Perhaps meeting Consort Wei earlier had biased him. Time would tell.

Zhu had expected to play peacemaker tonight. Instead, the Third Prince was nothing like the rumors, no petty vanity, no brittle hauteur. If anything, he gave the impression of being generous to talent. He didn’t even balk at Zhu’s pacing of the introductions. Was he broad-minded or hiding a deeper game?

Until Zhu could tell, he would hold the middle: neither fawning nor cold.

The real friction was obvious: the new arrivals would butt heads with the old guard over billets, training grounds, north–south methods. Everyone knew it was coming.

It started soft, then a northern commander got “honest” on wine.

“You southern pups don’t even know how to drink from a bowl. Pathetic. Why don’t you roll back south and stop disturbing the men who follow General Wei into blood and fire!”

The hall went silent.

He kept going, getting nastier: “It’s those useless court censors who talked our General Wei back to the capital! He’s worth ten of you white-skinned chickens. On the field you wouldn’t even know your head was off!”

Lin Haiming flipped his table. “Spouting dog shit, are we?”

They were all flint and tinder. Lin Haiming grabbed the man by the collar and swung. The northerner wasn’t soft either. Fists flew. Southerners lunged to back Lin Haiming; northerners piled in to keep their own from losing face; in a heartbeat the “banquet” became a brawl. Tables overturned; cups shattered. The civil officials shrank into corners; you didn’t toss vegetables into a tiger pit.

Prefect Zhu watched panic swell, sweat breaking on his brow. He tried to send housemen to separate the fighters, but what were housemen against veterans? They were shoved back like reeds.

He looked, pleading, to Li Mingjin, who was calmly turning an empty cup.

“Your Highness, this... this humble official can’t stop them.”

“Pour,” Li Mingjin said to Luo Shuyu, nudging the cup toward him.

Luo Shuyu smiled and filled. “No need to fret, Prefect. If His Highness isn’t anxious, neither should you be.”

“Honestly,” Li Mingjin said lazily, “I was bored sipping in silence. Now that everyone’s decided to stage a show together, isn’t it more entertaining? Let them go. I’m not done watching.”

Zhu regretted not gathering more intel. A violent man only gets more excited by violence; even the prince consort was smiling at the brawl. It's a miscalculation.

Eventually Zhu enlisted the Wei brothers, and the two of them waded in, dropping men with practiced efficiency until the floor was a chorus of groans.

One farce, ended.

Every instigator knelt in a ragged line before Li Mingjin.

He flicked his wrist. The wine cup arced, struck stone, and shattered.

“No rules, no order,” he said, voice light and cold. “Every officer who joined the fight will receive ten military rods. Prefect Zhu and General Wei will supervise the punishment.”

A draft ran across their backs. For an instant, it felt like kneeling to the Son of Heaven.

This hadn’t been their show of strength.

It was his.

Now they knew what kind of man had come north.

---

Author’s Note:
Third Prince: “Wife, tonight you’re my stunning little soldier who just got his backside paddled. As your general, I’ll apply the salve.”
Luo Shuyu: “…”

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