Chapter Thirty: The Meaning of Loyalty

Zuo Wen was stunned for a moment and asked, “What did you say, sir?”

Xu You knew he had actually heard clearly, but his mind was caught off guard and unable to process it. He picked up the porcelain pot on the table and, with deliberate slowness, poured water into the cup, giving Zuo Wen time to mull over his words.

When the cup was filled to seventy percent, Zuo Wen finally snapped out of his daze. He hurriedly took the cup in both hands, repeatedly insisting he dared not accept, then his expression darkened. “We of humble origins have received great kindness from our lord. All we ask is to repay it with our lives for as long as we draw breath. As for anything else, I’ve never given it much thought.”

Xu You shook his head. “Loyalty is right, but there is a difference between wise loyalty and blind loyalty. You’ve served the Yuan clan for many years and you’re literate; you must understand a little of Confucian doctrine. What, after all, is loyalty?”

Zuo Wen lifted the cup, took a sip of water, then set it back on the table, lowering his head in silence.

“The Master said, ‘When the ruler treats his minister with courtesy, the minister serves with loyalty.’ But now, Yuan Gong not only fails to treat you with courtesy, it’s difficult even to secure an audience with him. All communication relies on Feng Tong, and because of me, you offended him badly on this trip to Yixing. I doubt he’ll speak well of you in Yuan Gong’s presence.”

Zuo Wen was well aware of all this. In the years he’d spent at the Yuan residence, his straightforward nature had earned him many enemies, preventing any advancement. Eventually, after repeated setbacks, he learned to smooth his rough edges and cultivate a diplomatic temperament, but he was still fundamentally different from those who ingratiate themselves and claw their way upward by any means. This is why he’d deeply offended Feng Tong on the boat.

Who was Feng Tong? He was Yuan Jie’s most trusted confidant; to offend him was to declare the end of any prospects within the Yuan household. Xu You’s words were no exaggeration.

“So be it,” Zuo Wen said with a bitter smile. “At worst, I’ll remain a military sergeant. As long as I receive my stipend, it’s enough to feed myself.”

Xu You raised his brows. “You haven’t married?”

By all rights, at his age—over thirty—though of low birth, attached to a noble clan and holding a sergeant’s post, his pay and rewards far exceeded that of commoners, even surpassing some government clerks. He should have long since taken a wife, with children at his knees. How was he still single?

“I’ve married twice. Both wives died of illness, and the son and daughter they bore also passed away at five years old. After that, I lost interest in such matters.”

So that was it—a man acquainted with sorrow. Yet, being single at least meant no ties. Xu You sighed. “You may be indifferent to status and material things, but I fear when the time comes, you won’t even have the option to settle for less. To deal with the Four Demons Arrows, your hundred-man squad suffered over thirty casualties—a three-tenths loss. There’s no doubt people within the household and the army will raise objections. These high-ranking men, unfamiliar with military affairs, won’t care how formidable the Four Demons Arrows are. They only see that, as one of Chu’s top noble clans, the Yuans lost so many men to mere outlaws. The charge of incompetence will be leveled, and if you escape punishment, you’ll be lucky. As for your position and pay, best not to hope for them any longer.”

Zuo Wen was startled—not because he was slow, but because the day had been spent arranging affairs for the fallen soldiers, leaving no time to consider his own predicament. Now, with Xu You’s reminder, he felt as if sitting on needles. He had few friends in the Yuan household, fewer still he could confide in, and many looked upon him with dislike. If the superiors sought to hold him accountable, he’d have no one to speak for him. Even if others didn’t kick him while he was down, they’d certainly offer cold and biting remarks. With his stubborn nature, how could he endure such mockery?

“I must see the lord and explain myself…” Zuo Wen stood abruptly, clearly unsettled.

Xu You felt a pang of sympathy, but nonetheless poured cold water on his hopes. “When I first met Yuan Gong, I raised the matter of compensation for the families of those killed…”

“What did the lord say?” Zuo Wen’s eyes flickered with hope.

“He was impatient, said it wasn’t urgent and could be discussed later, then never brought it up again.”

Zuo Wen sank back into his seat, his gaze lost. His life had long been entwined with the Yuan clan—his dignity, honor, dreams of achievement, and even the basic necessities of existence and self-respect were all inseparable from the Yuans, fused from blood to bone. To be cast out from this group was a shock of unimaginable force.

“Don’t be too pessimistic,” Xu You consoled him. “With your skill and talent, the world is vast—there are places you could go.”

Zuo Wen was silent for a long time before speaking in a low voice. “We retainers aren’t exactly slaves, but neither are we registered citizens. In the lord’s eyes, we’re no different from servants; there is no true freedom. Once attached to the Yuans, from the very beginning, generation after generation are their household slaves. Sir, you say the world is vast, but there’s no place for a runaway slave, much less one from the Yuan clan. Who would dare take me in, let alone employ me? Better to accept whatever fate decrees. At worst, I’ll be demoted to tenant farmer, laboring in the manor fields.”

Such was the tragedy of the era. Under the sway of aristocratic politics, officials had their own circles, nobles theirs. The grand clans enjoyed hereditary privilege, while those of common birth had no path for advancement. Zuo Wen, caught between commoner and slave as a private retainer, possessed extraordinary martial skill, but was nothing special to the great Yuan family. What choice did he have but resignation?

Years of hard training and desperate combat had been for nothing but a clear conscience. Yet after all his rise to sergeant, he discovered that the world was full of petty schemers, and within the noble house, superiors and subordinates were estranged. When the malicious intervened, the end was as it was for him: no place to appeal, wronged and awaiting punishment, his remaining days spent in bitterness.

At this thought, Zuo Wen was plunged into despair. Just then, Xu You spoke: “If you truly wish to leave, I can intercede with Yuan Gong on your behalf. I can’t promise much, but at least you’ll regain the status of a commoner.”

Zuo Wen looked up sharply, his voice trembling. “Sir…”

“But you must think it through. A commoner with no support may have freedom, but it isn’t necessarily better than serving as a slave in the Yuan household.”

After the turmoil of the past moments, Zuo Wen had already made up his mind. It was his nature—he would never rise in the Yuan house, and after this battle with the Four Demons Arrows, he might even be punished. If he were demoted to tenant farmer, he’d truly become a slave. If he could be restored to commoner status, with his martial skills, he could farm or trade and at least feed himself. Why continue groveling here?

He was a man of the martial way—decisive and resolute. His mind made up, he immediately rose, knelt with hands clasped, and said, “Sir, I beg you to save me!”