Volume One: The Hidden Dragon in the Abyss Chapter 86: Compromise-Supreme Martial Arts(Marquis Ying)

Wang Chuan neither affirmed nor denied, and said, “Bring me brush and ink.”
“Very well, my son is about to compose poetry again,” the Emperor of Jin said joyfully.

All under heaven knew of Wang Chuan’s poetry, his verses spreading far and wide. To witness him in the act of composing was a rare honor, a stroke of fortune, to stand as witness to the birth of a masterpiece.

“Miss Li, may I ask for your guidance…”
When Wang Chuan finished writing, he first handed the poem to the princess.

“Song of White Hair”

As white as snow upon the mountain’s crest,
As bright as the moon between the drifting clouds.
I heard you held a divided heart,
And so I come to bid farewell.
Today we drink together, tomorrow by the water’s edge.
I pace atop the imperial moat,
While the waters flow east and west.
So sorrowful, and yet again so sorrowful—
No need to weep for marriage or for parting.
If only I might find one true heart,
To grow old together, never to part.
How slender the bending bamboo pole,
How swiftly sways the fish’s tail!
A man should value loyalty and spirit—
What use have we for coins and knives?

“This poem…” The princess looked up, astonished. At a glance, the tone was abrupt and unfamiliar—clearly a poem from a woman’s hand.

“When I was in Yu, I met a wonderful young lady who always helped me. Later, she followed me back here as well.” Wang Chuan faced the Emperor, his posture straight as a pine. “Your Majesty, that is why I cannot look upon any other woman. There are some people one simply cannot fail. Do you not understand? Can you not see it?”

Father, grant me this, just this once.

The figure standing tall before the throne seemed to echo the stance he had once taken before the King of Wei.

“I understand,” the Emperor replied. “My son, your poetry is indeed peerless, unrivaled beneath the heavens, and you are most adept at using verse to declare your heart. Before the King of Wei you composed ‘The Song of He Man,’ and for me, you wrote ‘Remembering My Father.’ Now, seeing this poem, I understand as well. Very well, let this be the end of the matter today.”

The Emperor sighed deeply, as if utterly weary. “Go back, all of you, go back. I am tired.”

“Your son takes his leave.”

Wang Chuan bowed and departed at once, without a moment’s hesitation.

Overnight, the court took a sudden turn. In the capital, none of the officials above the rank of department head could rest easy. Some had genuine business to report to the inner court; others came with no urgent matters, using excuses to find out what was happening.

It was clear that several ministries were taking drastic action, with a sweeping change of personnel. Whether they had come for official business or simply to gather news, all realized that if they did not leave quickly, they might be swept into an imminent political storm. For a time, those with sedan chairs took them, those with horses mounted up. Order collapsed as crowds rushed out, carriages and horses crowding the broad avenue, jostling for passage.

All were headed for the Crown Prince’s residence.

Many of the officials aligned with the Fourth Prince were dismissed in a single, sudden stroke. Though the daily routines of the ministries continued, for a moment, no one knew who was to review and annotate the flood of documents.

Within a single day, several elders had changed circumstances: the Prime Minister had been ordered to rest due to illness, several Ministers remained to oversee their offices, but a number of chief eunuchs were dispatched to oversee the imperial tombs, and at this moment the Emperor abruptly announced he would begin a period of closed-door meditation.

Finally, word came from the palace: the Crown Prince of Jin would serve as Regent!

All affairs of state, like a gust of wind, were transferred to him in an instant.

“Your Highness, I fear this is the prelude to a fatal blow,” Yang Hao advised with caution.

He offered his explanation: in the capital, whether toiling for survival or simply passing the days, most who held high office were no fools. They excelled at discerning the Emperor’s will, a skill they prized above all.

Yet no one dared claim to truly understand the Emperor of Jin.

His temper was too mercurial, his disposition too unpredictable, leaving the officials beneath him in a constant state of anxiety.

“Is he really so hard to understand?” Wang Chuan frowned, pondering this.

“Your Highness…” Yang Hao could not help but call out.

Are you thinking of something different from me? What are you planning?

“I need to enter the palace,” Wang Chuan said, rising again.

But didn’t you return empty-handed this morning?

Yang Hao did not dare press further and only nodded in assent.

So be it.

“You wait here,” Wang Chuan said seriously. “If anything happens, run for yourself. I may not be able to look after you. And protect Uncle Zhong for me—he’s not fit to follow right now.”

“Your Highness, what are you planning?” Yang Hao was alarmed.

Since arriving in Yangcheng, all the powers in every direction sought to ally themselves with him, to do business together, to manage the affairs of Jin. All because he was Wang Chuan’s representative. He had received many tokens of goodwill.

“To reason, to persuade—try to convince them,” Wang Chuan replied.

But it didn’t feel that simple… And he called Xue Wei and Tian Xingzi along as well.

Something felt off.

“Where are we going?” Xue Wei asked curiously, her eyes bright as she took in the unfamiliar sights along the way.

So many things were different from Yu.

“To the palace. I want my father to see you,” Wang Chuan said sincerely.

“Ah?” Xue Wei was startled. “Does His Majesty wish to see me?”

“Not exactly, but I want him to,” Wang Chuan replied.

That left things even less clear.

“Your Highness need not worry. The Emperor of Jin will understand your intentions and support you,” Tian Xingzi said, as if he already knew what was to happen.

“To be able to see fate is a fine thing, but it hardly matters. I am confident in the future as well,” Wang Chuan replied.

It was of no consequence. Since he had come this far, he had already considered everything, made every preparation.

“We’re really going to see your father?” Xue Wei asked him.

“Yes, don’t worry. You needn’t say a thing,” Wang Chuan said, cloaking her in a mantle. “He will like you, I promise.”

He spoke with utter seriousness and warmth, inspiring deep trust.

The three of them entered the palace together.

This time, the Emperor of Jin received them in the imperial gardens. He was watching the fish swim, not turning his head. “You’ve come.”

Wang Chuan and his companions paid their respects.

“Father, this is Xue Wei. I hope you will ask for her hand from Yu on my behalf,” Wang Chuan said directly.

“So, this is the woman who makes you so determined.” The Emperor raised his hand, pausing for a moment. “She’s quite fine. Very good.”

He did not turn, did not so much as glance at her.

“What do you think, Your Majesty?” Wang Chuan asked. “Will you permit it?”

“My son, you have gone so far, all for this one woman.” The Emperor sighed. “Has it been so long since we were close? Have we grown estranged?”

“No, I have the deepest respect for you, Father,” Wang Chuan replied.

“That is not what you think in your heart,” the Emperor said with a strange smile.

“Please, Father, grant my wish,” Wang Chuan said earnestly.

“You are here too,” the Emperor said, turning to Tian Xingzi.

“Your Majesty, it has been a long time. I trust you are well,” Tian Xingzi replied.

The two had crossed paths before.

“With your status, you could have entered court and held the highest rank, but you refused. Yet now you are content to stand behind him. What has he given you?” The Emperor asked.

“Your Majesty, you know as well as anyone: each of us seeks something different. None more sincerely than His Highness,” Tian Xingzi answered.

“Desire can indeed be a powerful force, but if the direction is wrong, it leads only to repeated error,” the Emperor said.

“Your Highness has reached a height none can match. Can his actions truly be mistaken?” Tian Xingzi said.

Of course not.

Wang Chuan neither affirmed nor denied, and said, “Bring me brush and ink.”

“Very well, my son is about to compose poetry again,” the Emperor said with delight.

All under heaven knew of Wang Chuan’s poetry, and those present felt honored for the chance to witness his composition—a rare opportunity to see a masterpiece born.