"This boy has a big heart and sees things clearly."
This was the Yan Emperor’s assessment of Zheng Fan.
Little did he know that Zheng Fan was backed by the Sixth Prince, the one most like his father, along with a peerlessly shrewd blind man. It was equivalent to having two think tanks accompanying him to watch the news broadcast; with such support, it was certain that he would see things more deeply than others.
"Previously, after he finished presenting the strategy for attacking Qian, the words Li Liangting said to him..."
"Did the Earl of North Border teach him how to roast a leg of lamb?"
The Yan Emperor’s gaze swept towards Wei Zhonghe. Wei Zhonghe immediately slapped his own face twice. The slaps weren’t loud, but he instantly knelt.
"This servant misspoke! Please punish me, Your Majesty!"
In truth, it wasn’t that Wei Zhonghe had said anything wrong. He was correct; after Zheng Fan proposed his strategy, Li Liangting did indeed begin teaching Zheng Fan how to properly roast a leg of lamb.
However, the error lay in Wei Zhonghe’s tone, which carried a slight hint of disdain towards Li Liangting—faint as a cicada’s wing, yet the Yan Emperor had caught it.
Regional and professional discrimination existed everywhere; it is an unchangeable aspect of human nature.
Eunuchs were at the bottom of professional discrimination, almost at the very lowest rung. Even a pimp from a brothel might be able to stand tall one day if he truly tried.
The Yan Emperor’s gaze fell upon Wei Zhonghe.
Wei Zhonghe’s back was already drenched in cold sweat.
But if you were to argue that Wei Zhonghe was discriminating against Li Liangting due to the latter’s northern barbarian origins, then you would be severely underestimating this Director of Yan’s Ministry of Rites.
In reality, he was probing, testing the Yan Emperor’s true feelings towards the Earl of North Border. As a servant, one had to act according to the master’s intentions; this was a survival instinct for him, a deeply ingrained habit.
But clearly, His Majesty’s feelings towards the Earl of North Border had become acutely sensitive.
"Rise. If this happens again, you can go guard my tomb in advance and wait for me there."
"Your Majesty, this old servant wouldn’t dare!"
Wei Zhonghe slowly stood up.
"Although Li Liangting was talking about roasting a leg of lamb, he was also indirectly affirming that Zheng Fan’s strategy was entirely correct.
For a general, his eyes are fixed only on how to defeat the enemy before him, how to capture the city in his sights. It’s often said that a thousand soldiers are easy to find, but a single general is rare. In my view, however, a thousand generals are easy to come by, but one true marshal is hard to find.
If I were to tell you that the strategy Zheng Fan proposed is almost identical to the one Liangting, Wujing, and I devised years ago, what would an old eunuch like you think?"
"This old servant congratulates Your Majesty on acquiring another great talent! Congratulations to Your Majesty, and congratulations to Great Yan!"
Roasting a leg of lamb requires careful consideration. You need to think about what the lamb was fed before slaughter, the charcoal, the spices, and so on. Similarly, a true regional governor or a strategic military commander must consider more than just the immediate battle or the capture of a city. They must also account for political, economic, and cultural factors, as well as shifts within both the enemy’s and their own imperial courts.
This is what’s called seeing the bigger picture.
What Li Liangting and the Yan Emperor appreciated was precisely this grasp of the bigger picture that Zheng Fan demonstrated in his strategy.
Of course, what the Yan Emperor and the Earl of North Border didn’t know was just how many talented individuals stood behind Zheng Fan. Newton stood on the shoulders of giants; Zheng Fan was practically being carried by seven dwarfs.
"The Jiang Family—are they on the convict roster or the extermination list?"
"Your Majesty, they are on the convict roster."
"Move them to the extermination list."
"This servant obeys."
"By the way, didn’t Cheng Jue build a temple outside the city?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. It’s a shrine to the local earth god, but behind it, he has placed the ancestral tablets of the Min Family, and also one for Consort Min."
"Alas, poor Cheng Jue." This update ıs available on 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡·𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖·𝔫𝔢𝔱
Wei Zhonghe stood to the side, not daring to utter a word.
After a short while, the Yan Emperor spoke:
"Yes, my Lord, I am."
"Why did you eat so little?"
"I’m just not used to eating such greasy food so early in the morning, Your Lordship."
"That’s because your life is usually too comfortable."
"Before joining the army, my family ran a small business, so we never lacked for food or clothing."
"If I said I envied you, would you believe me?"
"Because the food in Your Lordship’s mansion is truly awful."
"Ah, it really is terrible! You know, when I was young, I always hoped for a chance to go to the capital. Back then, if I went to the capital, I could snatch His Majesty’s chicken legs."
"..." Zheng Fan remained silent.
This was, after all, the imperial palace. The Earl of North Border could recount embarrassing stories from the Yan Emperor’s past, but Zheng Fan knew he couldn’t join in.
The Earl of North Border walked ahead, with Zheng Fan following behind.
Zheng Fan was laden with a large pile of the Earl of North Border’s barbecue equipment. The Earl was a practical man; he had brought his own tools to barbecue in the imperial garden and hadn’t forgotten to take them with him.
As they passed through a pavilion gate, Zheng Fan felt one of the grill racks about to slip. He said to a palace guard standing by the gate,
"Brother, could you help me with this for a moment?"
The guard immediately reached out to help. Just as he took one of the racks, Zheng Fan saw two armored soldiers come running from behind.
One clapped a hand over the guard’s mouth while the other pressed a blade to the guard’s throat.
Zheng Fan paused, stunned.
The two soldiers smiled at Zheng Fan.
Zheng Fan also smiled, understanding their unspoken consideration; they likely didn’t want blood to splatter on him, a kind gesture.
Zheng Fan stepped back two paces.
The blade slashed across the helpful guard’s neck.
One of the armored soldiers took the grill rack that the guard had been holding for Zheng Fan and said to him,
"Sir, let me help you with that."