Volume One: The Hidden Dragon in the Abyss Chapter Nine: Replacement

Wang Chuan sighed, his expression somber and full of sorrow. “Then why did you go to see Qi Hao today?”

“What business is that of yours? Why don’t you, a useless man, continue your performance?” The Sixth Prince shot him a cold glance.

“I have no other choice. In a world sullied with filth, I alone remain pure,” Wang Chuan shook his head. “When Mao Sui volunteered himself, he said that talent is like an awl in a bag—yet I have never even been placed in the bag.”

“Your Highness the Crown Prince, what do you want from me? Even if I tell you, what difference will it make? I asked Qi Hao to help me reclaim Yan Prefecture. If my father, the Emperor, is willing, he will send a hundred thousand soldiers north to unite against the barbarians…” The Sixth Prince fixed his gaze on him.

Wang Chuan paused at these words, then shook his head. “I am powerless to affect the affairs of the state.”

The Sixth Prince stared at him, letting out a cold laugh.

“Get up. You are not your own master either.” Wang Chuan helped the delicate beauty to her feet. “I wish you happiness.”

Then he gave a long, respectful bow to her and the Sixth Prince. “From this day on, we are no longer friends. May we one day forget each other on life’s journey, with mountains high and rivers long, and may no enmity or rivalry remain between us.”

Before leaving, Wang Chuan waved his sleeve with a flourish, his ailing figure strangely moving and sorrowful.

“Bring me paper and ink!”

Descending the stairs, Wang Chuan slapped the counter sharply.

The innkeeper, still in shock, watched as Wang Chuan seized the writing materials and began to write on his own.

The swift strokes of the brush filled the air…

“Take this to the Sixth Prince.” After finishing, Wang Chuan left without looking back.

The innkeeper snapped back to his senses, and as he carried the poem upstairs, he felt as though he were witnessing something momentous.

If only life remained as it was at first meeting, why should the autumn wind sadden the painted fan?
Hearts of old friends change with ease, yet they say it is the heart that is fickle.
When half the night is spent with words upon Mount Li, tears fall like rain, yet there is no blame.
How could the fickle lord in brocade match the vow to be wings and branches together as once wished?

From this day forward, the reputation of the Crown Prince of Jin would spread still further.

After leaving the brothel, Wang Chuan continued seeking places to build his renown.

He looked about and, spotting a newly opened inn, went in to have a look.

He chose a window seat, ordered wine, and drank to intoxication.

Faint strains of music seemed to drift in on the wind, stirring restlessness in his wanderer’s heart.

But the waiters and the innkeeper watched him with unease as he drank cup after cup, growing more despondent with each one.

His frail, unhealed appearance looked as if he might collapse at any moment.

In the end, he left behind another poem before staggering away.

“Spring Night in Luoyang—Heard the Flute”

From whose home does a jade flute quietly fly its tune,
Scattering into the spring wind, filling all of Luoyang?
Tonight, hearing “Willows Broken” in the melody,
Who does not feel longing for their distant home?

Those around were deeply moved.

“That poem strikes to the heart—who was that just now?”

“I think it was the Crown Prince of Jin…”

“How pitiful, barred from home for over a decade…”

…

The ruler of Wei sat before his desk, looking at the two poems and sneering.

“The words ‘Luoyang City’—so the Crown Prince still sees this place as a mere lodging…”

He gazed quietly out the window, then spoke: “The weather’s turning cold—have the Zhao family removed.”

…

“If the ruler commands his minister to die, the minister has no choice but to die!” Zhao Yu stared at the imperial edict from the ruler of Wei, his eyes bloodshot.

It had only been a few days, and already the ruler of Wei had decided to act against them.

It was likely because this Crown Prince of Jin had drawn too much attention tonight, stealing all the limelight.

So the order had come, urgent and unrestrained—a decree to eradicate the Zhao family.

It was a move to sever Wang Chuan’s support, truly leaving him isolated and helpless in Luoyang.

“Father, I told you long ago: if we were to cast aside Wang Chuan, we should have prepared early and withdrawn from Wei!” Zhao Qingrong shook her head. “Hesitation only leads to disaster.”

“But we have such a large business here, so many shops—how could we possibly find buyers on short notice? And if we move too hastily, our rivals will block us and losses will be even greater,” Zhao Yu replied, troubled.

Their subordinates were no happier.

“Even just a few hours ago, if we sold everything at half price, we could at least recover half. Now even that is lost. With the ruler’s edict, by tomorrow we’ll have nothing. So many in Luoyang are waiting for our downfall,” Zhao Qingrong sighed. “If you take a thousand taels into a casino and lose half, it’s best to cut your losses and leave. But if you put the remaining five hundred back in to try your luck, you’ll lose everything.”

“Then daughter, what do you propose we do now?” Zhao Yu knew his daughter was resourceful and strong-willed, never one to accept defeat.

“All things are fleeting—only strength is real. My top priority is to master the art of runes and gain admission to the Academy of Divine Patterns,” Zhao Qingrong replied. “There are six states standing, but the barbarians without are not yet quelled, and within, strife never ends. Only if I succeed can I escape these endless troubles. Commoners cannot fight with officials; the wealthy cannot contest power. No matter how vast our business, with a single word they can ruin us. In the halls of governance, officials conjure clouds with a turn of the hand, rain with another—but only rune masters truly stand above all.”

That is why I abandoned Wang Chuan—he is too weak.

“To enter the Academy of Divine Patterns is to cross the boundary between mortal and immortal; how can it be so easy?” Zhao Yu shook his head. “For centuries, all the states have tried to gain favor with the academy, but even so, few ever succeed in sending their children to study there…”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” Zhao Qingrong’s expression was resolute.

…

When Wang Chuan returned, he finally remembered Yang Hao.

Yang Hao had been waiting in the hall the whole time, eventually falling asleep in a chair from the long wait.

He had been there for over two hours.

When he finally saw Wang Chuan emerge, he quickly straightened and paid his respects.

“Your Highness,” Yang Hao greeted him, gazing for a long moment before sighing.

His first words were, “Your Highness, you are truly gravely ill.”

“Oh.” Wang Chuan’s expression was cold. “You should go home early—it’s late. Don’t come again.”

To someone with such sincerity, Wang Chuan did not show undue harshness.

He scrutinized Yang Hao.

Of medium height, slightly short, with dusky skin. Dressed in fine clothes, but with no noble bearing—more like a nouveau riche?

As the saying goes, clothes make the man, but if the attire cannot elevate the wearer, it becomes mere affectation.

Still, Wang Chuan was not one to judge by appearances; it was all the same to him.

“Your Highness, though many believe you are beyond cure, I do not think so—for they do not understand the nature of your illness!” Yang Hao pleaded. “I am willing to give my all to help!”

Wang Chuan glanced at him, wanting to say something, but turned away.

“Your Highness, I am willing to help with all my strength!” Yang Hao knelt and called out. “Though I do not know what you require, I am willing to give everything I have!”

“And what is it you seek?” Wang Chuan stopped, puzzled.

“The day Your Highness soars to the heavens, all I give will be repaid a hundredfold. That alone is enough,” Yang Hao replied sincerely.

Wang Chuan turned, took a seat, and gestured to the guest chair. “Sit.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Yang Hao said quickly.

“Do you wish to become a Lü Buwei?” Wang Chuan asked.

“No, that is the Zhao family; I am not like them,” Yang Hao shook his head. “They misjudged Your Highness. You are not Zichu, so there is no Lü Buwei.”

“So then, what can you offer me?” Wang Chuan asked again.

“I do business across the realm. I have interests in grain transport, silk, tea, rice, and more. Here in Luoyang, I can provide over a hundred thousand taels and a thousand loyal men. I also have good relations with some officials in Wei and Jin, and hold a few of their secrets… Only, by coming here today, I fear I can no longer act behind the scenes in the future,” Yang Hao explained.

“Your resources surpass even the Zhao family’s merchant guild,” Wang Chuan remarked. “Though I’ve never heard of you.”

“I am but an unknown,” Yang Hao smiled. “The Zhao family’s guild is not a fair comparison, for they are an entire clan, with generations of accumulation, and their core assets are not in Luoyang. I am alone.”

“How old are you?” Wang Chuan asked.

“Twenty-six,” Yang Hao replied.

“It’s not easy to make your own way—how many years have you been at it?”

“I went out into the world at twelve or thirteen. I am an orphan,” Yang Hao explained.

“To have built such a fortune in just over a decade—that is impressive,” Wang Chuan admitted. “But why would a clever man like you want to throw in your lot with me?”

“Because I am willing,” Yang Hao met his gaze. “And as Your Highness said—because I am clever.”

Wang Chuan was taken aback; this one’s way of thinking was different from the rest.

But he knew how to please. This was the mark of an excellent merchant.

And strangely enough, Wang Chuan felt the sincerity in his words—for once.

Should he pretend to be moved?

“But you don’t even know the nature of my illness—how can you help?” Wang Chuan asked.

“I have some idea,” Yang Hao requested paper and brush, and wrote a few words:

‘A hidden dragon should not act.’

“That is from the ‘Book of Changes,’ the commentary on the first hexagram, Qian. It means that when something is only beginning to develop, even if its potential is great, it is still weak, and should not act rashly,” Yang Hao explained. “So Your Highness has done very well these past ten years—outstandingly, in fact. Though the ruler of Jin and the Zhao family both think you could accomplish something great in Luoyang, your ambitions differ, so you did not go along with them. If you wished, it would be easy enough to return to Jin’s capital.”

“Can you help me spread the news that I am gravely ill—so that everyone in Wei and Jin hears it?” Wang Chuan asked.

“Yes. I have subordinates waiting outside—I will arrange it at once,” Yang Hao answered promptly. “My business spans all six states, and I have many connections in both Wei and Jin. News travels quickly among merchants. I will do all I can.”

Wang Chuan nodded, then said, “In truth, I am not ill.”

“Yes,” Yang Hao replied again, waiting for more.

But Wang Chuan said nothing further, only drumming his fingers on the armrest.

“Bring tea,” Wang Chuan ordered, gesturing for Uncle Zhong to serve him, and sighed, “To be as close as old friends at first meeting, and as distant as strangers after long acquaintance…”

“I feel the same, Your Highness,” Yang Hao replied, pleased.

“What do you think of the Zhao family?” Wang Chuan asked.

A cautious question, for it concerned the family Yang Hao would be replacing.

Yang Hao was careful, but after a moment’s thought, answered honestly. “As merchants, I think they are unremarkable.”

“A true merchant invests in furs for summer, linen for winter; boats when there is drought, carts when there is flood… Lü Buwei of old became rich by holding on to rare goods. The greatest merchants, like Lü Buwei and Fan Li, did business that saved others in times of need, forging ties for the future—sometimes taking losses now for endless profits later. The Zhao family, on the other hand, always hoped for luck, hoarding goods and raising prices, profiting at others’ expense. When Your Highness was in favor, they bought in; now that you have fallen, they cut ties at the lowest point…”

“So at best, the Zhao family is second-rate.”

“I spoke out of turn, Your Highness; please forgive me.”

Comparing Wang Chuan to a commodity was perhaps inappropriate.

“So you are first-rate, then. I do like clever men who put my mind at ease. After today, find a way to distance yourself from me. As for what exactly we discussed and what rumors may circulate—compose your own story. In the future, when I need you, how should I contact you?” Wang Chuan asked.

Yang Hao was overjoyed.

Then he heard Wang Chuan say, “Yang Hao, you’ve always said you want to help me. But tell me—does the sun’s brilliance need the help of others to shine?”