Volume One, Chapter 16: The Arrival of Wine

“What?”

Chu Xiong was caught off guard by Fang Yang’s sudden question.

“As expected. Since that’s the case, I don’t need you to plead on my behalf with His Majesty. We at the Duke of Chengguo’s residence dare not bear the burden of Prince Su’s favor! If the emperor wants to punish me, it means he has yet to learn the truth. Therefore, I will write a letter to my father,” Fang Yang said calmly.

“A letter to your father?” Chu Xiong was stunned.

Fang Yang’s erratic remarks left him somewhat bewildered.

“That’s right! Since the emperor refuses to investigate, I will bear the guilt. Once my father receives my letter, he will naturally petition the emperor. By then, I will have been punished, and the emperor will feel indebted to my father. As long as my father returns alive, he will surely be highly regarded.”

Chu Xiong was dumbfounded. Was this young man really so calculating at such a tender age?

“No, when did I say I’m Prince Su?” Chu Xiong asked in frustration.

“You can speak to the emperor, have a guard with you, and wear a golden ribbon at your waist—only imperial relatives in Chu Kingdom are allowed these privileges, so there’s only one answer: you are Prince Su,” Fang Yang said with certainty.

“Just based on that, you think I’m Prince Su?” Chu Xiong was speechless.

Fang Yang nodded. “Exactly. There are many imperial relatives in the capital, but only one can sway the emperor’s mind—that’s Prince Su.”

“Alright, since you’ve guessed, I won’t hide it from you. You’re half right—I am an imperial relative, but definitely not Prince Su,” Chu Xiong revealed, as if laying all cards on the table.

Fang Yang looked at him with an expression that said, “Keep pretending; I won’t expose you,” quietly observing him.

Seeing Fang Yang didn’t believe him, Chu Xiong frowned. “Prince Su is already fifty-six years old. Do you think someone my age looks like him?”

“Maybe Prince Su takes good care of himself; I haven’t seen him, so who knows,” Fang Yang said indifferently.

In his heart, he relaxed somewhat and basically confirmed this man was likely not Prince Su.

After all, the man looked about forty, with only a few gray hairs—obviously not an old man in his fifties.

Chu Xiong twitched at the corner of his mouth.

Helplessly, he said, “Have you ever seen a man over fifty look this young?”

“Fine, I believe you,” Fang Yang maintained his nonchalant demeanor.

“Then what did you say just now?” Chu Xiong asked with a hint of exhaustion.

“I forgot,” Fang Yang shrugged helplessly.

“Alright, then this sentence must be yours,” Chu Xiong said, pulling out the calligraphy the crown prince had written earlier.

“Uh…” Fang Yang showed a helpless expression, then said, “Yes, that was me. Our Great Chu Dynasty has lasted over two hundred years, and no emperor has ever married off a princess to bring peace to the realm. So I believe my praise of Great Chu is not misplaced.”

Chu Xiong twitched again. “Your handwriting was used by my son to mock me, and you still call it praise? You’re shameless.”

After a pause, Chu Xiong praised sincerely, “Well said, very well said.”

Then his tone shifted, full of helplessness: “Though these words are encouraging, the entire court of civil and military officials—ah… it’s not so easy.”

These matters were beyond Fang Yang’s concern, so he paid no attention.

Compared to the entire court, Fang Yang was more curious about who this man really was.

Judging by now, the man clearly didn’t want to reveal his identity. Fang Yang only regretted that the original occupant had been too infatuated to know how many imperial relatives the emperor had.

Chu Xiong continued, “There is no question about the marriage alliance, but all the officials believe some funds can be given, so the northern barbarians will let their guard down. Then the realm can strengthen its troops and avenge past humiliations.”

“You think this is all like Emperor Li II, coming to a Treaty of Weishui?” Fang Yang scoffed.

“What?” Chu Xiong was momentarily confused.

It was clear there was no Tang Dynasty in this world.

Fang Yang didn’t bother to explain further.

He said instead, “It’s getting late. If you don’t go home soon, my mother will be worried. Bring paper and pen; I’ll write you an article.”

Chu Xiong twitched again and gave Wang Bao a meaningful look.

Wang Bao was speechless and internally wailed, “Betraying the emperor! Your mother’s been dead for eighteen years; do ghosts call you to dinner?”

Though inwardly distressed, Wang Bao instantly snapped back to attention at the emperor’s signal and rushed downstairs.

Not long after, he returned with brush, ink, paper, and inkstone.

Fang Yang glanced at the table and casually brushed the items aside.

Then he spread out the rice paper.

Without any polishing, he lifted the brush and began to write.

The opening three characters: “On the Six Kingdoms.”

The slender golden brush strokes shone on the paper, sharp at the ends, curling elegantly, thin yet elastic, each stroke firm and incisive, exuding a penetrating sharpness.

Chu Xiong frowned slightly.

He didn’t understand why Fang Yang suddenly mentioned the Six Kingdoms.

But the next moment—

Chu Xiong’s body shuddered violently.

Fang Yang continued writing, “The downfall of the Six Kingdoms was not due to weak armies or poor warfare, but because of bribery to Qin.”

The first sentence was clear and direct. Chu Xiong’s mind suddenly cleared, and he kept repeating under his breath, “Bribery to Qin, bribery to Qin!”

Then Fang Yang wrote, “Bribing Qin drains strength and leads to ruin. Some say: the Six Kingdoms destroyed each other, so they all bribed Qin? I say: those who did not bribe were lost by those who did, having lost strong allies and unable to survive alone. Therefore, the fault lies in bribing Qin.”

For a moment, Chu Xiong had no room to think; he kept watching Fang Yang write one phrase after another.

“Qin gained territories through conquest—small towns or large cities. Compared to what Qin obtained through war, it was a hundredfold; what the feudal lords lost through defeat was likewise a hundredfold…”

“Today five cities are ceded, tomorrow ten. Then, only a night’s peace is gained. Looking around the four borders, Qin’s troops come again. The feudal lords’ lands are limited, but Qin’s desire is insatiable. The more offered, the more aggressive Qin becomes. Hence, victory and defeat are decided without battle. As for collapse, it is inevitable. The ancients said: ‘Serving Qin with land is like embracing fire with wood; as long as the wood isn’t exhausted, the fire will not die…’”

The more he read, the more Chu Xiong’s scalp tingled.

He hadn’t expected this rumored prodigal who squandered his family fortune to now compose such a profound political essay.

Every word refrained from mentioning the officials of the realm, yet each sentence sharply criticized them.

Fang Yang grew more excited as he wrote.

He felt his mind clearer than ever.

Memories from his past life surfaced continuously.

His brush flew faster and faster on the rice paper.

“Alas! Giving land to Qin through bribery, appointing strategists loyal to the realm, employing talents respected throughout the world to serve Qin with a divided heart—united in the west, then I fear the Qin people’s gains will be hard to swallow. How tragic!”

As he wrote this, Fang Yang suddenly paused.

His hand stopped moving.

A profound sense of inner conflict overwhelmed him.

It was as if two selves—the past life and the original occupant—were colliding, leaving him unable to distinguish which was real.

Chu Xiong, seeing the pain on Fang Yang’s face, was taken aback.

In his heart, he thought, “Could this be the legendary trance of a scholar?”

Then he heard Fang Yang shout, “Bring the wine!”

Chu Xiong didn’t hesitate and quickly handed him a nearly full jug of white liquor.

Fang Yang treated it casually.

He lifted the lid and began gulping down the strong liquor.

The fierce alcohol stimulated his brain.

The more he drank, the clearer his mind became.

After finishing the jug, Fang Yang swayed slightly.

He tossed the jug aside and picked up the brush again.

“There is such momentum, yet Qin’s growing power oppresses us, cutting away day by day, month by month, hastening our doom. Those who govern the state must never allow themselves to be crushed by such overwhelming force!”

His hand trembled more and more as he wrote; memories in his mind grew clearer.

“More wine!”