Upon hearing this, Prince Xuan turned to Wu Ziming and asked for guidance in a soft, imploring tone. "With treacherous villains clouding the imperial court, we must support my Imperial Brother and share the sovereign's burdens. Does Brother Zezhao have a clever strategy?"
Wu Ziming’s smile deepened, assuming the air of a man with a foolproof plan. He offered his first point of advice: "To raise an army, one must have a righteous pretext. Relying solely on the auspicious omens from the Heavenly Mountains is not enough; we must unfurl a grander banner." As he spoke, he dipped his finger into his tea and drew two long, slanted lines on the table. With another heavy dip, he painted a short stroke between the two lines—the Three Mountains Defense Line. Then, with a quick swipe, he circled an area two finger-widths north of the Three Mountains, pushing the defense line forward by more than three hundred miles.
I had read many historical and classical texts over the years, and I was appalled by what I saw. His "righteous pretext" was actually to reclaim the former territories of the Central Province that had been ceded to the Kingdom of Shiying a thousand years ago!
During the War of World-Ending, when many heroes vied for the throne, Ni Tian had assisted the Great Ancestor in pacifying the Central Province. They had chosen not to take the four barren northern provinces beyond Heluo and Tutai, instead establishing the Heavenly Mountains and the Great National Defense Array to stabilize the borders. History had proven this choice wise. The northern provinces were desolate with thin spiritual energy, inhabited only by scattered tribes. The terrain was flat and open—"where the wind blows and the grass bends"—leading straight to Bija, the capital of the Shiying Marquis of Guchen. To take it would yield few spiritual resources; to hold it would offer no natural barriers to rely upon. It was truly a "chicken rib"—worthless to keep, yet a waste to discard. However, if one raised the banner of "recovering the ancestral lands of the Central Province," it would play perfectly into the Emperor’s desire to expand his territory!
While I was filled with alarm and anxiety, I couldn't help but admit that this Wu Ziming really had some skill; he certainly dared to think big. Wei Qingming, however, gave a cold, ghostly smile. "There is no need for a Prince to offer such a plan. A famous official has already submitted a memorial. Unfortunately, Wu Zezhao’s 'brilliant strategy' is two days too late."
"Someone else thought of the same thing?" I asked in surprise.
"Xia Rong, the Vice Minister of War," Wei Qingming said. "A protégé of Chancellor Wen."
I began to grasp the flavor of the situation. Chancellor Wen’s faction was surely seizing the opportunity to curry favor and dilute Chancellor Zhang’s authority. Recalling my brief meeting with Chancellor Wen six years ago before my departure, I remembered him as a kind, white-bearded old man, but in the end, he was still a seasoned and cunning politician.
"However, since Wu Zezhao is so self-satisfied, perhaps he truly did have a hand in this scheme." Wei Qingming curled her lip into a cold smirk. "It seems this fellow is not only a distinguished guest of the Zhang Manor and a valued visitor of the Prince’s estate, but also on good terms with Chancellor Wen’s lineage. A true slave of three masters."
Sure enough, Wu Zezhao began to boast to Prince Xuan about how Xia Rong’s memorial came to be and how he himself had orchestrated and refined it from behind the scenes. I couldn't tell if Prince Xuan was truly incompetent or if he simply didn't want to ruin the mood, but he laughed heartily and slapped the table in praise.
As they spoke, Prince Yi arrived in a hurry, his voice filled with laughter. "Fourteenth Brother, how is the music tonight? I specifically assigned two women to you; why don't I see them serving?"
Having spoken with Wu Ziming, Prince Xuan’s anxiety had eased. He rose to greet his brother. Though the titles "Yi" and "Xuan" were phonetically similar, there was a gap of ten ranks between them; Prince Yi was the fourth-born, while the current Emperor was the fifth. However, Prince Yi’s birth was not prestigious; his mother was merely a Lady of Handsome Fairness who had passed away early, though she had blessed him with great handsome looks. The Emperor possessed an imperial dominance—laughing as he pleased, fickle and moody, making it impossible to fathom the sovereign's mind. Prince Yi, on the other hand, was refined and noble, possessing an elegant and romantic air. There was never much news about him in the streets; his public image was that of a leisurely prince who enjoyed flowers, birds, and the moon, keeping a low profile.
Wu Zezhao also gave a respectful bow and smoothed things over for Prince Xuan with a smile. "We were discussing important matters, so we dismissed them. Once Your Highness has finished catching up, it won't be too late to invite the ladies Yuyan and Qiaoqian inside."
Prince Yi, of course, took no offense. He allowed his attendant to take his cloak and bow out before sitting lazily at the table. He poured himself some tea and chatted pleasantly about the snowy weather. Prince Xuan’s anxiety returned; he grabbed his brother's hand and said impatiently, "Ever since I offended our Imperial Brother four years ago, he has remained angry and refused to summon me back to the capital. Fourth Brother, you must think of a way for me! Upon receiving your letter, I risked the doubled penalty of leaving my fief without permission to travel through the night. Fourth Brother, you cannot just stand by and do nothing!"
Seeing his lack of composure, Prince Yi couldn't help but chuckle. He said calmly, "How could I not help? Soon, your return to the capital will no longer be without a decree. The gifts for the Empress Dowager’s New Year celebration are on the way—a Buddha statue invited from Tianzhu. You must write a sincere family letter, entreating our Imperial Brother for permission to enter the capital to present this treasure from the Buddhist kingdom. You are blood brothers; he won't truly stay angry with you."
These words made Prince Xuan beam with joy, and he repeatedly voiced his agreement. "I certainly won't let my brother pay for this alone. Though Ezhou is remote, it is filled with silk-gathering beauties. I shall send a few to your manor another day."
Prince Yi merely smiled at this. He turned to discuss military supplies with Wu Zezhao. They actually intended to use the name of serving the sovereign to seize the government-supervised war preparation business and make a fortune from the conflict!
Prince Yi’s expression remained serene—even a bit bored because he was so familiar with the market—yet every word out of his mouth involved massive orders calculated in the tens of millions. The enormous profits he casually tossed to Prince Xuan were enough to make anyone's eyes turn red with envy. Where was his lofty, refined image now?
Seeing this, Wei Qingming turned to me and teased softly, "The character for 'Xuan' (宣) with its top and bottom protruding becomes 'Yi' (宜)."
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Master Wei, who usually worried for the country and its people, actually had the heart to joke at a time like this. However, I guessed that since she knew about this, she would surely muddy these waters so thoroughly that they wouldn't even get a sip of fish soup.
Just as Prince Xuan was flushed with excitement over the impending wealth, he noticed the intermittent music from the next room again and grew displeased. Wu Ziming smiled and said, "The general plan is set. If Your Highness is annoyed by the noise next door, why don't I have the madam drive them out and invite Lady Yuyan in so we can enjoy a proper song?"
"There's no need to drive them out." Prince Xuan was likely still concerned about his precarious situation and didn't want to cause a scene. He simply asked for the pipa and the songstress to enter the booth. Wu Ziming rose diligently and went out to tell the servant to fetch them. Soon, they were immersed in the singing of beautiful women, chatting about anecdotes from the capital and local regions.
Wei Qingming, however, focused her attention on the music from the next room for a moment. Her brows furrowed slightly as she asked me in a low voice, "A-Zhi, do you have a way to see what is happening next door?"
I used my Vision to probe. The restrictions on the two Princes' room were naturally high-grade, requiring an equally high-grade magical tool to eavesdrop. The room next door was much simpler. With Vision, I could roughly see the people inside, though I couldn't hear their words clearly and had to rely on lip-reading. Wei Qingming said, "As long as we can identify who they are." I then shared my Vision with her.
We looked, and spoke simultaneously: "It's actually Duan Qimo!" "It's actually Zhang Zhuyi."
"Zhang Zhuyi?" I looked again in surprise at the cold, elegant woman opposite Duan Qimo. "Is that the Zhang Zhuyi who is ranked alongside Wen Jiang as one of the capital's top beauties—'Red Wen and Green Zhang'?"
"The very one," Wei Qingming said flatly. "Just don't mention this person to Eighth Sister's face."
I laughed. "Of course, of course. I understand."
Zhang Zhuyi was also a daughter of a Chancellor’s house, the legitimate granddaughter of Zhang Guibai. By coincidence, she was the same age as Wen Jiang, and the two had been rivals since childhood. Her name came from the famous poem in the *Book of Odes*: "Look at those recesses in the banks of the Qi, with their green bamboos, so fresh and luxuriant. There is our elegant and accomplished prince, as from the knife and the file, as from the chisel and the hammer." She herself was as pure and elegant as a cold bamboo. Moreover, compared to Wen Jiang—who was unlearned and had nothing but beauty and social skills—Zhang Zhuyi was a master of the zither, go, calligraphy, and painting. While the title of "Capital's Number One Beauty" was a matter of personal taste, the title of "Number One Talented Woman" undoubtedly belonged to Zhang Zhuyi.
Logically, how could a noble lady of her status enter a place of pleasure, let alone have a private meeting with a lowly merchant of demon origin like Duan Qimo? As I watched, I marveled at Duan Qimo’s luck with women. It seemed she loved them all, whether they were "red" or "green"... even I was starting to feel a bit jealous.
Seeing me so entranced by Zhang Zhuyi’s beauty, Master Wei shot me a glance and remained silent. I quickly straightened my expression and withdrew my gaze; otherwise, I wouldn't have an easy time of it when we got back tonight.
The one playing the zither intermittently was Zhang Zhuyi. With her skill, it shouldn't have sounded like that, but it seemed she had just acquired a Tang Dynasty antique zither. She was carefully repairing the surface with vermilion lacquer and adjusting the newly strung strings, which was why the notes were scattered. Duan Qimo wasn't particularly intimate with her; they sat on opposite sides, and aside from low-voiced talk about zither techniques, they had no other topics of conversation.
There were no more important matters on Prince Xuan’s side, as their talk devolved into men's crude jokes. Master Wei had me focus on the next room, likely to avoid tainting my ears. Soon, Zhang Zhuyi finished repairing the zither and signaled for Duan Qimo to try it. Duan Qimo set down her cup, washed her hands, and plucked a few notes, nodding in approval. So, she had invited Zhang Zhuyi to repair the zither, but why did they have to choose the Qingshang Pavilion?
After testing it, Duan Qimo politely asked Zhang Zhuyi to play a full piece. Only then did Zhang Zhuyi glance slightly to the side. The third person in the room, who had possessed zero presence until now, finally stood up. She walked with small steps from her corner and stood under the candlelight. She was a demon songstress, very young, appearing no more than twelve or thirteen in human years, likely having just made her debut. Her pupils were a brilliant gold, common among snake demons, whereas my pupils were a rarer pale golden amber.
Contrasted with the magnificent attire of Duan and Zhang, her shabby green dress made her look even poorer than a maidservant from a middle-class family. I couldn't help but sigh again. Although sixty to seventy percent of the women in Pingkang District were of the demon race, most were engaged in lowly labor, serving poor customers for meager wages. That this young girl could be trained as a songstress made her fortunate compared to those demon girls who had no chance for education at all.
They called her Quchen. Bai Juyi once wrote, "The Ba River water below the city, in spring it looks like quchen," and there were poems describing early spring willows as "thousands of strands of quchen." This girl was raw and green, yet she already possessed a hidden, refined grace, though she was unaware of it—fresh as the soft yellow-green of willow catkins. Quchen stood timidly in the center. Zhang Zhuyi struck a note to set the key and began to play slowly, and Quchen began to harmonize. It was also a rendition of *Huan Xi Sha*:
"This fleeting life is but a limited span,
Casual partings easily break the soul,
Do not refuse the frequent feasts and songs.
Gazing at the vast rivers and mountains, one yearns for the distant in vain,
Falling flowers in wind and rain make one grieve for spring,
Better to cherish the one before your eyes."
As soon as Quchen’s voice emerged, I recognized it as the voice I had heard downstairs when we arrived yesterday. I hadn't expected her appearance to be so youthful while her voice was so mature, not at all like the sweet, weak tone of a twelve-year-old girl. It carried a natural, infinite sorrow; whatever she sang was bound to bring one to tears.
Zhang Zhuyi had chosen the music, but Quchen had chosen the lyrics. "Better to cherish the one before your eyes" was certainly not the Chancellor’s daughter flirting with Duan Qimo. When the last line was sung, a faint smile finally appeared on Duan Qimo’s usually stoic face. A clear light flickered in her eyes; she was likely thinking of Wen Jiang. Yesterday, Wen Jiang said my words had helped her a great deal. Perhaps after we left, the two of them had shared lovers' whispers, shed some tears, and vented some anger, only for their feelings to grow even deeper?
Amidst these lingering threads of affection, I unconsciously leaned a bit lower into Wei Qingming’s embrace. She was also gazing at me with tenderness. For a moment, no words were needed for love to flow between us. I looked up at her face dotingly, finally understanding why she could see through the illusions of the Meal-Cloud Realm on the night of the Qixi Festival. It truly only took a single look; no matter what form she took, I would be able to recognize her, solely by this love carved into my very marrow.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 宣王 | Prince Xuan | The 14th Prince. |
| 宜王 | Prince Yi | The 4th Prince. |
| 吴则昭 | Wu Zezhao | Wu Ziming's courtesy name. |
| 矢鹰国 | Kingdom of Shiying | Literally "Arrow Eagle Kingdom," a neighboring state. |
| 毕迦城 | Bija City | Capital of the Shiying Marquis of Guchen. |
| 膏珍侯 | Marquis of Guchen | A title/ruler in the Shiying Kingdom. |
| 夏荣 | Xia Rong | Vice Minister of War. |
| 语妍 | Yuyan | A courtesan/songstress. |
| 巧倩 | Qiaoqian | A courtesan/songstress. |
| 婕妤 | Lady of Handsome Fairness | A high-ranking imperial concubine title. |
| 峨州 | Ezhou | A remote province where Prince Xuan was stationed. |
| 张竹猗 | Zhang Zhuyi | Granddaughter of Zhang Guibai, a famous beauty and talent. |
| 红文翠张 | Red Wen and Green Zhang | A nickname for the two top beauties, Wen Jiang and Zhang Zhuyi. |
| 麹尘 | Quchen | A young demon songstress; the name refers to a pale yellow-green color. |
| 浣溪沙 | Huan Xi Sha | "Silk-Washing Stream," a famous Ci poem melody/pattern. |
| 晏殊 | Yan Shu | The Song Dynasty poet who wrote the lyrics used in the chapter. |
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