Chapter Five: Urgent Coercion

Putting aside these troublesome matters, Qiufen glanced at the sky, worriedly saying, “It’s already the hour of Shen. The young master should eat…”

Xu You shook his head, replying, “That’s not reasonable. One eats only when hungry—it has nothing to do with the hour.”

In truth, from the perspective of human civilization, eating on schedule represents an important mark of society’s progression from the primitive era into a civilized one. Since the pre-Qin and Han dynasties, ordinary folk have typically eaten twice a day: once at the hour of Chen, known as ‘morning meal,’ and once at Shen, called ‘evening meal,’ almost never deviating. Nobles and princes, however, enjoyed the privilege of three meals. The book Zhuangzi records: “He who travels to the wilds returns after three meals, his belly full and content.” The custom of three meals has a long history, though reserved for the privileged few.

Yet, for all his words, Xu You was accustomed to eating lunch at noon. Now, enduring hunger until the hour of Shen—four or five in the afternoon—his stomach was growling. For him, the most pressing issue was not the threat from the Shen clan, but how to fill his belly.

The state of Chu, after two generations of governance by the An family, now enjoyed peace and prosperity. Its people lived well; unless one was slothful, food and clothing were no hardship. But Xu You, newly recovered from severe injuries and with a sensitive identity, had no means of supporting himself. Qiufen, raised in the Xu household from childhood, though a servant, lived far better than most farmer’s daughters—indeed, not inferior even to girls from wealthy families. Still, she was young and inexperienced; sending her out to earn a living would be harder than simply killing her.

Thus, what should have been a simple matter of subsistence seemed to have become a deadlock.

The two sat in silence, facing each other, until the sun dipped low, unable to think of any solution. Suddenly, Qiufen stood up and declared, “I know how to swim. If others can catch fish, so can I. Young master, wait here a moment—I’ll fetch some fish from the riverbank!”

Xu You, wiser this time, refrained from reaching out to stop her. Despite Qiufen’s youth, her strength was considerable. He rebuked, “Catching fish isn’t so easy! Look at those old fishermen—after a lifetime of fishing, they sometimes return with only a few. And you, a young girl, how will you bare yourself and enter the water? Even that dress will wrap around you once you’re submerged… Besides, it’s late autumn now; the weather is fickle. If you fall ill from the cold, what will we do then?”

Qiufen fretted, “If this won’t do and that won’t do, what about the young master’s empty stomach…”

Looking at the history of the realm, for thousands of years, those who rebelled and risked their lives usually did so because they were starving, unable to survive. Thus, the greatest misery in the world is hunger. That sensation is as if a dreadful, ghostly hand reaches from the stomach, tearing one’s organs to pieces, then sprinkling salt and setting thousands of ants to crawl over them. Only those who have been truly famished can understand.

That night, neither had anything to eat. Forced to retire early, Xu You, perhaps from severe hunger, slept straight through to the hour of Si the next morning. Qiufen had been waiting at his bedside; seeing him open his eyes, she hurriedly said, “Young master, the prefect’s office sent someone over—they’ve been waiting outside for almost half an hour.”

“The prefect’s office? Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”

“That official instructed us not to disturb your rest, saying he could wait.”

With Qiufen’s help, Xu You dressed, donned his headpiece and high clogs, and walked outside. He saw the visitor wearing a wide robe of blue linen, standing with hands behind his back at the courtyard gate, his expression calm and composed.

Xu You greeted him with a respectful bow, saying, “I did not know which esteemed official would visit—please forgive my lack of deference.”

The visitor turned, his refined features resolute, and said, “Seventh Young Master, your complexion has greatly improved since last we met. My name is Li Zhi.”

The newcomer was none other than Li Zhi, the newly appointed prefect of Yixing. During the night of chaos, the former prefect, Xu Meng—Xu You’s cousin—had been killed by the mutinous soldiers. To quickly quell the unrest and reassure the people of Yixing, the Emperor appointed Li Zhi, a man of spotless reputation from a humble background, to the post.

Yet Li Zhi addressed himself humbly, wore no official attire, evidently wishing to avoid attention and meet Xu You in a private capacity.

Xu You bowed deeply, saying, “So it is the prefect himself. Forgive me for keeping you waiting—my manners have failed.”

Li Zhi, utterly without airs, raised a hand to help him up, saying, “Seventh Young Master, no need for formalities. I came abruptly, only to say a few words and then depart—let’s dispense with ceremony.”

“Yes, prefect, please take a seat.” Xu You glanced at the bare room; even the two rough hemp cushions had been put away by Qiufen. He smiled bitterly, “It’s humble here—I fear I’m neglecting the prefect.”

Li Zhi waved the concern aside, “No matter. We can speak standing.” He signaled Xu You to step closer, his expression grave. “The Xu clan has suffered a sudden calamity. Do you know the cause?”

Xu You did not understand why Li Zhi asked, but answered honestly, “Above, the Crown Prince’s suspicion grows ever heavier; below, my late uncle’s grievances accumulate. Add Shen clan’s machinations, and disaster was inevitable.”

Li Zhi looked at Xu You in surprise, evidently not expecting the oft-maligned Seventh Young Master of Xu to possess such insight. Still, he said nothing more. The Xu clan had suffered catastrophic losses; its elite slain, its noble status revoked, reduced to commoners—revival was impossible. With only one Xu You remaining, however perceptive, what could he do?

“At first, the Crown Prince and Shen clan pressed the Emperor hard, and he reluctantly agreed to grant you one month to recover. But I think the Emperor’s heart yet held room for change, intending, when the period expired, to claim your illness made travel unwise, delay for a time, and seek a chance to petition for you to remain in Yixing. You need not thank me—I do this not for you, but because the Xu clan rendered foundational service to Great Chu. Its bloodline must not end here. But man’s plans falter before fate; yesterday, your public appearance has already spread through Jinling. This plan is no longer possible. Moreover, I may as well tell you: just now, the Crown Prince’s attendant, Wei Tianzhi, came to me with the Prince’s order, instructing me to hasten your departure for Qiantang—no delay allowed in Yixing.”

The Emperor’s edicts are called ‘imperial decrees,’ the Crown Prince’s commands ‘orders.’ With the Prince’s attendant delivering the message, there was no need to explain further. Xu You understood. Regardless of his reputation, Li Zhi was but a fifth-rank prefect—not daring to openly defy the Crown Prince. Thus, whether or not his wounds had healed, when the month was up, he must leave Yixing.

As for why they were so eager to expel him, Xu You understood well. Yixing was the Xu clan’s ancestral seat, cultivated for a century, its blood and roots entwined with the land. Though after that night, the mutineers slaughtered the clan for three days, eradicating almost all, as long as one survived, those behind the massacre would never sleep easily.

Especially when the Emperor, on a hunting trip, heard the news and hurried back to Jinling, issuing three edicts: ordering the Shen clan to withdraw its retainers to Wuxing, assigning the unaligned Li Zhi to pacify the people, and search for survivors of the Xu clan, to ensure their safety until the verdict of Huangsha Prison—no mishaps allowed. The Emperor’s ambiguous stance left the masterminds of the massacre anxious, prompting them to drive Xu You out of Yixing, lest trouble arise again.

Xu You remained calm, saluting, “Prefect, I will never forget your kindness in saving my life. Since the Crown Prince has issued his order, I will not make things difficult for you. Grant me three more days—then I will leave Yixing and settle in Qiantang County.”

Li Zhi’s eyes showed approval. “Good—decisive action is a man’s virtue. Take heart, too: the Emperor did not exile you to Panyu, nor send you to Wuxing, but chose Qiantang by his own hand. He wishes to protect you.”

Panyu, that is Guangzhou, was the usual place of exile for Chu's noble families. Wuxing, meanwhile, was Shen clan’s stronghold; should Xu You go there, he would not survive a day.

After seeing Li Zhi off, Xu You pondered. Yixing was not a place to linger. Now, his chief concern was to keep a low profile, but as long as he remained here, loyal retainers and former soldiers of the Xu clan would seek him out, hoping for a restoration. Sooner or later, the Shen clan would learn of this and report to the Crown Prince, accusing him of harboring resentment. Next time, he might not be so lucky as to keep his life.

Thus, leaving Yixing was necessary. Qiantang County belonged to Wu Commandery, outside the Shen clan’s sphere of influence. Its climate was mild, land fertile, economy prosperous—an “ideal city for human habitation,” as the saying goes. The Emperor’s choice was, as Li Zhi said, genuinely protective.

Yet the problem remained: Xu You was destitute, unable even to feed himself. How could he take Qiufen and relocate to Qiantang? Yixing lay more than three hundred seventy li from Qiantang by land—a long journey, with highwaymen and bandits along the way. Even hiring an ox-cart would cost a fortune, not to mention lodging and food expenses. Water travel, though downstream, required passing through Dujiang and entering Tiaoxi, right through Wuxing—Shen clan’s territory, a veritable lamb to the tiger. Taking the western route via Lishui and Shuiyang River would be a long detour, costing more time and money.

In the end, it all came down to one thing: money.

But he was weak, newly arrived in this world, knowing nothing—where could he possibly find such a sum?