“Leader, the Zhejiang Army’s envoys are here,” several pirates announced, leading Liu Daqiang and his five-man group before Mao Haifeng and Daoyou Zhenchuan, saluting with clasped fists.
“Hmph, what’s Zhu Ping’an sending you here for? You’re the Ming army, we’re pirates—sworn enemies. What’s there to talk about? Sure, we lost a battle, but our reinforcements, a hundred thousand strong, are almost here. Just wash your necks and wait to die!” Mao Haifeng said arrogantly from his elevated seat, his words laced with killing intent.
Liu Daqiang chuckled at Mao Haifeng’s words. *The Governor is spot-on—he predicted exactly what Mao Haifeng would say.*
Recalling Zhu Ping’an’s instructions, Liu Daqiang parroted word for word, “Our Governor says there are no eternal enemies or friends, only eternal interests. Today we’re enemies, tomorrow we might be friends. Today we’re friends, tomorrow we could be mortal foes. Friend or foe—it all depends on interests.”
*No eternal enemies, no eternal friends, only eternal interests…*
Mao Haifeng and Daoyou Zhenchuan exchanged a glance, their eyes reflecting a sense of sudden clarity.
*Damn!*
This Zhu Ping’an, truly worthy of being the top scholar, had a way with words. That statement was pure genius!
*No eternal enemies, no eternal friends, only eternal interests*—a sobering truth.
His reputation was well-earned.
Though shaken by Zhu Ping’an’s words, Mao Haifeng remained dismissive. “Fine words, but we’re like fire and water—one lives, the other dies. What interests could we possibly share?”
“Our Governor says there are indeed interests to discuss, or he wouldn’t have waited for you to set up your camp before sending us. If there were no interests, would we have let you build it undisturbed?” Liu Daqiang said slowly.
At this, Mao Haifeng and Daoyou Zhenchuan exchanged another stunned look. Zhu Ping’an hadn’t missed an opportunity out of caution—he’d deliberately waited for them to establish their camp. This caught them completely off guard.
“Before we talk, our Governor asks the two leaders to first see our goodwill,” Liu Daqiang said, clapping lightly.
Two Zhejiang soldiers stepped forward, placing a long object wrapped in black burlap on the ground, rolled into a thick cylinder.
“What’s this? A gift from Zhu Ping’an?” Mao Haifeng and Daoyou Zhenchuan approached, eyeing the object curiously.
What was it, rolled up like a blanket? What kind of gift could this be?
What was Zhu Ping’an playing at?
They looked at Liu Daqiang, their eyes full of skepticism. *This is your so-called goodwill?*
How insulting.
“Leaders, please take a look,” Liu Daqiang gestured for them to open it.
Mao Haifeng and Daoyou Zhenchuan glanced at each other, then nodded to nearby pirates to unwrap it.
Two pirates stepped forward, untying the burlap and pulling out the contents.
The object revealed itself: a rectangular flag with black borders, bearing the characters “Wang” and “Daoyou.”
“Our grand banner!” Mao Haifeng and Daoyou Zhenchuan exclaimed in unison. “You’re returning it?”
Liu Daqiang nodded. “Yes, our Governor instructed us to return your grand banner as a gesture of our goodwill.”
“Excellent,” Mao Haifeng said, nodding with satisfaction.
The grand banner was the soul of an army. Capturing an enemy’s flag was a feat as great as slaying their general. Its importance was immense, especially the grand banner, the king of flags.
In battle, if the grand banner fell, it could trigger an army’s collapse, morale shattered.
During their earlier field battle with the Zhejiang Army, the retreat of their grand banner had led to their total rout.
Having it captured was a profound humiliation. They’d been dreading how to explain or cover it up to Lord Hui. Now, Zhu Ping’an had returned it, easing their burden.
This made it much easier to face Lord Hui.
“We’ve received your goodwill. Now, state your purpose,” Mao Haifeng said to Liu Daqiang.
After receiving the banner, his tone was less hostile, though his expression remained stern.
“Our Governor wishes for the leaders to deliver two letters and a gift to your boss, Wang Zhi,” Liu Daqiang said.
“Two letters? Your Governor wrote two letters?” Mao Haifeng asked, surprised.
Why two? Wasn’t one enough?
Liu Daqiang wagged a finger. “Not written by our Governor, but by two others. However, our Governor says that when your boss Wang Zhi receives them, he’ll be overjoyed.”
“What? Lord Hui will be overjoyed? Is your Governor planning to surrender to Lord Hui?” Mao Haifeng couldn’t help but think.
Even the usually calm Daoyou Zhenchuan entertained the same thought.
Why else would the Zhejiang envoy claim Wang Zhi would be thrilled?
The fact that the letters weren’t in Zhu Ping’an’s handwriting made sense. For a surrender letter, he’d avoid writing it himself. If it leaked, he’d be in grave danger. Using a proxy allowed him to deny involvement if needed.
But this was strange.
Why would Zhu Ping’an surrender to Lord Hui? His career in the Ming court was boundless.
He was the youngest top scholar, now Zhejiang’s Governor, a frontier official in his early twenties. Why defect to Lord Hui?
It didn’t add up.
Wait.
One thing did make sense. It was public knowledge why Zhu Ping’an was demoted to the south.
In the capital, he’d offended the powerful Ming minister and Grand Secretary Yan Song by getting involved in Yang Jisheng’s impeachment of Yan Song. Rumor had it he’d offered suggestions for Yang’s memorial. Though Yang didn’t use them, it was enough to anger Yan Song, leading to Zhu’s demotion to a minor county magistrate in the south.
Just days ago, someone from the capital, bearing lavish gifts, had come urging them to deal with Zhu Ping’an.
Yan Song couldn’t tolerate Zhu Ping’an’s rise and was moving to eliminate him. With no future left, was Zhu Ping’an now considering switching sides?
