Volume One: The Hidden Dragon in the Abyss Chapter 90: Revelation

The morning court in Jin was a grand and solemn affair.

Led by Prime Minister Sun Xinchong, the officials filed out in order of rank, assembling before the Scarlet Steps of the front hall, ready to welcome the imperial carriage.

Wang Chuan waited on the side, with the Hall of Radiant Virtue—the emperor’s residence—rising before him. Two golden bronze horses stood symmetrically before the hall, each towering three fathoms high, their heads nearly level with the palace’s upturned eaves.

Further ahead, the imperial procession began to move slowly.

The emperor’s carriage was even more magnificent and resplendent. Though this was but a movement within the palace, the retinue of guards numbered no less than a thousand. Flags and banners filled the procession, waving like clouds; the highest imperial banner was more than six fathoms tall, mounted on a great cart, bearing the sun, moon, and soaring dragon. Nine long crimson streamers hung from the lower edge, trailing all the way to the ground.

There were dozens of carriages in the train, including standing chariots and comfortable seated ones.

Every wheel was painted vermillion, and golden dragons adorned the carriage bodies. The seats were woven from fine strips of animal hide, and luminous pearls hung from the carriage sides.

Fierce tigers were painted on the handrails, dragon heads carved on the horse yokes, phoenixes and birds on the carriage beams. The canopies were woven from emerald feathers inlaid with gold floral ornaments—every detail as exquisite as a work of art.

Every flag in the procession followed strict standards.

As the imperial carriage drew closer, the banners seemed to blot out the sky, casting an overwhelming shadow of majesty over the crowd.

Wang Chuan waited by the side, meticulously following the rigid etiquette the Ministry of Rites had drilled into him—mechanical, precise.

For today, he could endure anything.

There seemed to be nothing of great importance this morning—the northern campaign continued as before.

His thoughts drifted, wandering among the heavens.

Suddenly, someone tugged at his sleeve.

Startled back to himself, Wang Chuan realized all eyes were upon him, as if something had just occurred.

What was the matter?

"Prince, how do you find your first morning court?" the Lord of Jin asked again.

"It was all right," Wang Chuan replied. "Our nation is strong and prosperous."

"Good," the Lord of Jin said. "Very well. If there are no further matters, let us conclude. The Vice Minister and Secretary of Rites will remain."

The morning session was about to end.

The other officials began to withdraw.

"Your Majesty, I am struck by poetic inspiration today; forgive my boldness," Wang Chuan announced.

"Oh, my son is about to compose another masterpiece," the Lord of Jin replied, pausing with interest. "They say the Crown Prince’s poetry stuns the world; today I am honored to witness it myself."

The officials all offered their compliments.

An attendant promptly brought over the scholar’s four treasures and stood by.

Wang Chuan took up the brush, focusing his spirit.

In that moment, it was as if the God of Literature shone upon him, a radiant morning light coiling around his form.

"Presented to the Emperor at the Great Ming Palace, Morning Court"

Scarlet-capped cocksmen cradle the dawn tally,
The royal robe of emerald clouds just now presented.
In the nine heavens, palace gates swing open,
All nations’ lords and ministers bow beneath the diadem.
Sunlight touches the immortal’s palm—life stirs,
Incense smoke eddies round the dragon’s cloak.
When court is done, colored edicts must be drafted,
Pendants chime as we return to the Phoenix Pool.

…

The capital was ever bustling.

Prosperous and flourishing, gathering the talented and renowned.

It was now near dusk; red clouds blanketed the sky, reflecting off the glazed jade tiles on either side, shining with dazzling color. Carved railings and painted beams stood everywhere, stone balustrades adorned with hundreds of blossoms, a grandeur and elegance radiating from the ancient architecture.

Xu Wei had waited at the gate for a long time and finally sat down, resting her chin in her hands.

Her eyes were closed, her head bowed; the hair she’d once bound so neatly had fallen loose. Her skin was as fair as jade, flushed with a delicate pink, her appearance pure and flawless, a kind of beauty that stole the breath.

"Princess…" Yang Hao hurried to her side. "I’ve just inquired—the morning court ended long ago, and the officials are all at work. His Highness shouldn’t be delayed unless the emperor kept him for some important matter."

"Mm," Xu Wei answered softly.

Yang Hao sighed, tempted to urge her not to wait, or to return and wait at home instead.

But he said nothing.

He remained guarding nearby.

"By the way, they all say you’re quite remarkable—a great merchant already wealthy beyond measure, yet you dress so simply," Xu Wei said curiously.

"Me?" Yang Hao was taken aback, uncertain how to respond. "Compared to the hardships of my childhood, life is much better now. I’m content and grateful. Nowadays, thanks to His Highness, I’ve gained business rights over some of Jin’s salt and iron. The profits are promising."

"They also say you’re the White Gui of our time, and that you acquired the legendary Guiguzi’s secret book. Is that true?" Xu Wei pressed.

Like the tales of Wang Chuan’s enlightenment by a sage, Yang Hao had acquired his own legends, though they were somewhat dimmer.

For in a few short years he’d amassed wealth beyond what many noble families had achieved in generations.

Thus, his story had grown into legend.

"Bai Gui, named Dan, was said to have studied under Guiguzi, who passed him a golden book containing the secrets of wealth," Yang Hao answered, knowing what she meant.

'If you wish to take, you must first give.'

‘If the world offers no prospects, withdraw and await the right time.’

He taught that business, like war and law, required an understanding of timing.

"Yes, that’s the story," Xu Wei nodded. "They say the golden book was lost and then you found it, rising to prominence overnight."

"I’ve heard those rumors too, and they please me, but in truth there was no golden book," Yang Hao replied with a wry smile. "Rumors are not to be believed. In this world, things don’t always follow a set pattern, nor progress step by step as written in any text."

"I would never deceive you, Princess, nor do I need to. I’ve had no miraculous encounters; even meeting His Highness was the result of persistent effort and finally being rewarded."

"That makes you even more remarkable—to have achieved so much through your own diligence," Xu Wei said sincerely.

She had a keen sense for truth and falsehood, virtue and vice.

She found herself drawn to people like Yang Hao.

"His Highness is truly the extraordinary one—he’s someone I deeply respect," Yang Hao said.

Soon, a servant arrived with news. Yang Hao went to learn more.

He returned in high spirits to Xu Wei. "His Highness has composed another poem—stunned the entire court, and the emperor is overjoyed."

That morning court poem spread rapidly throughout Yangcheng; its grandeur and profound artistry left countless self-styled scholars and poets ashamed.

Wang Chuan had returned to Yangcheng.

Wherever he went, everything else seemed dim by comparison.

Xu Wei felt all the more energized for her wait.

Not long after, someone came to visit, bearing the name of the Zhao Merchant Guild.

"The Zhao Merchant Guild?" Xu Wei found the name familiar, though she couldn’t quite place it.

Wang Chuan rarely spoke of such things; she’d likely heard about them elsewhere.

"I don’t think you need to receive them," Yang Hao said, glancing at her before instructing the guards to keep the visitors outside.

If Xu Wei had any other opinion, he would defer immediately.

Such matters were his to handle, much like a steward in the household. Xu Wei reasoned that if Wang Chuan were present, he would do the same.

She kept waiting on her own, unbothered.

"So, you’re Yang Hao. I’ve long been curious about you. Today, I finally meet you," the middle-aged leader said, with a hint of disdain. "Thank you for looking after His Highness these days."

"And now you’ve come hoping to make amends," Yang Hao replied, exasperated.

The shamelessness was astounding.

"Why not?" the man replied. "Business thrives on harmony and profit. We’ve had no real quarrel, so why not let us see His Highness? Or are you afraid you’ll be cast aside?"

Since Wang Chuan’s return, his reputation had eclipsed all others—he was the emperor’s favorite son, famed throughout the land.

Visitors called day and night.

With Wang Chuan’s favor, Yang Hao’s own business in Jin flourished; whether in need of people or money, he met no obstacles.

Such honor should have belonged to the Zhao family.

At the crucial moment, however, they parted ways with Wang Chuan—a disastrous choice.

They hoped that years of shared experiences would count for something, that their efforts might earn them leniency.

Like dogs sniffing out a meal, they had come chasing the scent of profit.

Surely a single apology would suffice—why dwell on the past?

"It’s not that I’m deliberately excluding you, but you really can’t see His Highness. Don’t trouble him any further," Yang Hao said. "As merchants, we learn to understand what our clients require. Yet you’ve never grasped what His Highness truly needs. Is it just money? He possesses far more than you. What else could possibly move him?"

"Yang Hao, don’t get above yourself! This is the State of Jin—we are the true sons of Jin!" the middle-aged man retorted.

Outsiders were always suspect, always with ulterior motives. The prince needed to know this, to trust them again.

The world knew the Zhao Merchant Guild bore Wang Chuan’s mark, yet at the fateful moment, they had turned away. Any attempt to switch sides now was impossible.

Their business was in decline; the family head had ordered cost-cutting, but it was never enough.

How could they remain calm?

"Throw them out!" Yang Hao would waste no more words, waving for the guards. "If you persist, I’ll have you handed over to the authorities!"

"Your Highness, Your Highness, we’ve met before—in Wei, we often benefited from your guidance…"

Just then, Wang Chuan returned, seemingly oblivious to the commotion, passing by without a glance.

He paused before Xu Wei.

"You’re back. I… I was just wandering and ended up here," Xu Wei said, standing up.

"Mm," Wang Chuan nodded.

"You look much better in your robes," Xu Wei said sincerely, her eyes lingering on his imperial garb.

"If you think so, then that’s good," Wang Chuan replied. "Morning court is terribly dull; I’d rather spend my days with you. By the way, the diplomatic mission has already set out for Yu. Before they arrive, we’ll send a letter ahead."

He was about to accompany her inside, then glanced over to Yang Hao. "Has Duan Changfeng returned home?"

"Yes," Yang Hao replied. "He’s been keeping to himself, focused on cultivation."

"Call him here—just once. Whether he comes or not is up to him," Wang Chuan said.

"Understood," Yang Hao nodded, determined to go himself for better assurance.

Since Wang Chuan wished him to come, he should make the effort.

Wang Chuan and Xu Wei went to the study. He casually took up an envelope, sealing it with a trace of his spiritual power.

"As I told you before—just the time it takes an incense stick to burn."