Volume One: The Hidden Dragon in the Abyss Chapter 26: Peerless

Human Emperor? Ruler of the human race? Wang Chuan shook his head. “I have no interest. I have my own matters to attend to. Sir, please look for someone else.”

“What a pity,” Tian Xingzi sighed. “Those willing to bear responsibility lack the ability, and those with the ability refuse to bear responsibility.”

“The Way of Heaven runs in cycles. If I cannot yet stand firm on my own, how could I possibly help to govern the world?” Wang Chuan shook his head again and turned to leave.

“I have met the Princess of Yu as well. She is your destined match. Would you like to come with me?” Tian Xingzi asked again.

“This, I can do.” Wang Chuan nodded and followed him.

…

The demon and barbarian tribes came to pay homage. Following Tian Xingzi's advice, the Lord of Yu both mobilized troops to fortify the capital and held a grand imperial banquet.

The venue was set at the eastern suburban hunting grounds.

In ancient times, when the grass grew tall and the horses grew strong, it was tradition for the ruler to travel the realm. Everyone understood that the Lord of Yu was displaying his might to deter would-be troublemakers.

No matter who came, no matter what masters, all were expected to behave themselves.

In the eyes of the people, the Lord of Yu was renowned for his benevolence, unlike other monarchs, compassionate toward his subjects.

Whenever the imperial banquet was held, the people shared in the celebration: porridge was distributed, clothing was given, warmth was offered to the needy.

To attend the imperial banquet of Yu was the highest honor. For an ordinary person to dine there even once would give them cause to boast for a lifetime.

For those of status, however, it was routine. Every festival, they gathered, watching the performances of song and dance.

The court was graced with countless beauties, music and dance flourished—a true age of peace and prosperity.

Wang Chuan and his companions arrived late. The hunt seemed already underway, ruler and ministers enjoying themselves together.

They were seated in the middle ranks, unbothered.

It was also the first time Wang Chuan beheld the famed Empress of Yu, a beauty beyond compare. Even he could not help but be astonished—she was stunning.

Her beauty could no longer be described in words. The phrase “enchanting enough to topple a nation” was meant for such a woman—rare indeed in the mortal world.

Sunlight flowed down, a gentle golden hue spreading across the wilds and casting intoxicating halos upon her face. Her pale yellow robe draped from her scented shoulders, lightly veiling her softly rising breasts in a graceful arc. Her slender waist was as supple as a willow, her poise subtle and refined. Silky hair, bright eyes, lips like crimson, her spirit seemed to embody the essence of heaven and earth, the radiance of sun and moon—no wonder she was so captivating. Her flawless skin glowed with a luster finer than jade. She did not seem human, but rather a celestial maiden descended from heaven, untouched by mortal dust.

“Wang Chuan…”

Suddenly, a lively figure crept over, gently tapping Wang Chuan on the shoulder.

He turned to see Xu Wei’s innocent, radiant smile. “What is it?” he asked.

“When did you arrive? You didn’t tell me,” Xu Wei said.

“I just got here. Aren’t you supposed to be up there? I just saw you.” Wang Chuan glanced toward the high platform—the seat beside the empress was now empty, and the Lord of Yu at the center seemed to have glanced their way. “By the way, sorry about last time. I startled you.”

“It’s fine. Let’s not talk about that—they were the bad guys.” Xu Wei pouted. “When I saw you arrive, I told my mother and came to find you. I came to play with friends, hehe…”

“As long as you’re happy.” Wang Chuan moved aside a bit, allowing her to sit closer.

“That’s my mother. Did you see her?” Xu Wei boasted happily. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

“Yes, very beautiful.” Wang Chuan nodded, glancing again with usual composure. “You resemble her a lot.”

“Hehe…” Xu Wei’s cheeks flushed pink. “So, what about your poem?”

“You still remember?” Wang Chuan was taken aback.

“Mm-hmm…” Xu Wei had even brought brush and ink, asking carefully, “Can you write it now? If not, don’t force yourself.”

“It’s nothing, just a small matter.” Wang Chuan shook his head, tore a strip from the hem of his robe, and began to write on the plain white fabric.

The poem was finished in an instant.

That day’s sunlight was warm and soothing.

After reading the poem, Xu Wei’s eyes immediately sparkled with excitement.

“Mother, mother…” Clutching the poem carefully, she couldn’t wait and dashed off to show the empress, running straight up onto the high stage, causing the music and dance to pause.

Golden parasols and feathered fans—at the center sat the emperor, with the empress and consorts at his side.

The empress pulled her over, chiding her with gentle indulgence. “Why are you still so impatient?”

Her smile alone bewitched all who saw her.

“Mother, look.” Xu Wei stuck out her tongue, excited. “This poem is wonderful! I had Wang Chuan write it for you.”

“That’s the crown prince of Jin, isn’t it?” The empress’s expression remained unchanged, but after reading the poem, she was visibly astonished, even exclaiming in admiration. “Your Majesty…”

She passed it to the seat beside her.

The Lord of Yu felt conflicted—this man was still lingering here.

He hadn’t seen him arrive earlier, but he had noticed Xu Wei slipping away, which was how he realized Wang Chuan had come.

Thankfully, he had kept the more ambitious courtiers in check. Now, he hoped the crown prince of Jin wouldn’t stir up any trouble.

“This poem…” After reading it, the Lord of Yu was full of praise.

The ministers all murmured among themselves, looking up at the platform.

“Someone, grant the crown prince of Jin a seat!” The Lord of Yu rose and said, “Today we truly have an honored guest. What an auspicious day—to have Prince Wang Chuan among us, and to have him present a poem for my empress. Truly, Prince Wang Chuan is unmatched in poetry across the land, and this poem is peerless. I must reward you handsomely. Empress, what reward do you suggest?”

Wang Chuan suddenly became the center of attention and had no choice but to rise and walk up to the stage, step by step.

He took the seat prepared for him in the place of honor.

From this higher vantage, he could see farther—and be seen by more people.

His gaze was calm and distant.

At this moment, a palace attendant read aloud the poem:

“Like clouds conceive her robes and blossoms her grace,
Spring breezes caress the steps, dewdrops thick with brilliance.
Were she not beheld atop the Jade Mountain,
She must be met beneath the moon on Yao Terrace.”

It was not long before every poetry society in Fucheng was vying to circulate Wang Chuan’s new work.

Whenever a new poem of his appeared, it spread rapidly, carried by scholars who copied and shared it with classmates and friends.

At such times, every piece of paper near these societies would quickly sell out.

“The empress truly is as lovely as a goddess! Over the years, countless scholars have written poems, but only Prince Wang Chuan has reached such heights. Such beauty is not of this world, and neither is such poetry. We can only look up in awe!”

“To open a quatrain with repetition like this is rare indeed. Why can’t I compose a poem as matchless as this? The interplay of lines is masterful!”

…

The poem was universally praised.

“Excellent! Prince Wang Chuan’s reputation is well deserved. I hear you are rather friendly with my daughter—she is willful and mischievous, and I fear she may trouble you. If only you could write a poem for her as well.” The Lord of Yu looked to Wang Chuan. “As crown prince, you possess the wealth of the world—there is no rare treasure I could give that you lack. Yet I pondered long and hard, and finally thought of a fitting reward. Tell me, can you compose another poem?”

Wang Chuan furrowed his brow, glancing at Xu Wei, who seemed just as surprised.

Her cheeks flushed red, and she cast a reproachful glance at the Lord of Yu for his presumption.

Wang Chuan himself could not quite understand what this man was scheming, or why.

If he wished to refuse, he would have to find a suitable reason.

A table had already been set up in the center, with ink gently ground.

Xu Wei seemed full of anticipation, her eyes fixed on Wang Chuan, not leaving him for a moment.

Wang Chuan felt a strange sense of déjà vu—he could no longer write something like “Once I was the Happy One, now tears fall before you.”

He thought for a moment of something else.

All eyes were on him as Wang Chuan rose with calm composure and walked to the center table.

He gazed at the snow-white paper, appearing deep in thought.

Xu Wei could not resist creeping up behind him, peeking over his shoulder.

Wang Chuan glanced sideways, amused, then refocused and took up the brush.

His writing was not fast, but thorough and meticulous.

Xu Wei peeked, then softly began to read under her breath, unwittingly reciting the words as they appeared:

“From clear water, a lotus springs—”

Her clear, gentle tone was quiet, but most present had keen cultivation and heard her clearly.

“Unadorned by artifice, pure and true—”

In an instant, the bearing and expressions of those watching became formal, attentive.

Xu Wei’s voice carried to everyone’s ears.

With just the opening couplet, many faces changed—some grew solemn, awaiting the next lines; others furrowed their brows, sensing unease.

The audience was filled with nobles, ministers, and learned scholars—most were not lacking in talent.

Wang Chuan’s poetic prowess had long been legendary, admired by countless scholars. Yet rumor was rumor—today, they would see for themselves.

A poem like “Like clouds conceive her robes and blossoms her grace” was an immortal work. If someone else had penned it for him, that person would surely be the greatest talent alive.

And for the Lord of Yu to test him on the spot was a shrewd move.

If Wang Chuan refused, suspicion would only increase.

But if he composed a poem on the spot, his true skill would be revealed for all to see.

Previously, most inclined toward the view that Wang Chuan was merely of modest talent. Scholars are reluctant to praise one another, and though his reputation was great, few admitted it openly.

There was always jealousy, resentment, and rivalry.

Yet one masterpiece after another forced even the proudest to concede.

“From clear water, a lotus springs—
Unadorned by artifice, pure and true.”

With these two lines, the hall fell silent. Some repeated the lines softly; a hush swept through the crowd.

They gazed at the princess—her person and poetry seemed one and the same.

If the previous poem was bold and brilliant, like a sweeping landscape painted in vivid strokes, then after praising the empress, to write for the princess was an even greater challenge.

To praise her beauty again would inevitably draw comparison with her mother.

Not only that, the two poems would be compared.

If the second was inferior, it would reflect poorly.

Thus, composing such a poem was exceedingly difficult.

Yet with those two lines, all were stunned to the core.

From such simple words, with effortless grace, he sketched a style of ethereal elegance—full of feeling, sincere and unadorned.

At last, they understood Wang Chuan’s genius: he always captured the essence, the defining trait.

Hence, his words were so true to life.

In writing of the empress, he praised her unparalleled beauty.

For the princess, he could not simply imitate—after all, it is rare for the next generation to surpass the previous.

But everyone in Yu knew—the princess’s greatest quality was her nature.

With just a few strokes, Wang Chuan captured it: that pure, untouched spirit, like a lotus washed in clear water.

Could they not admire him? They could only yield in admiration.

All present watched in anticipation, holding their breath, not daring to make a sound, lest they disturb Wang Chuan’s composition.

The brush moved!

Its tip stirred, and with it, their hearts.