Volume One: The Hidden Dragon in the Abyss Chapter 91: Divine Dragon

With a single stick of incense, he could make the letter appear on the emperor’s desk in the capital.

Though the strain upon his soul would be immense.

After writing his own letter, he had Xu Wei write one as well.

“Brother Chuan, then what should I say?”

“Anything you like. Think it up yourself.”

“Oh, Brother Chuan, may I put a present inside?”

“Do as you please, but don’t make it too heavy.”

“Oh, Brother Chuan, then what should I choose?”

“Anything you like...”

“...”

If communication became convenient, longing would not weigh so heavily.

Wang Chuan thought of the empress’s gentle, obedient grace, and a warm feeling could not help rising in his heart.

Duan Changfeng and the others had also come, and Wang Chuan went to meet them first.

He spread out the map of the Central Plain, his mood growing somewhat grave.

Duan Changfeng and the others said nothing, waiting for Wang Chuan to speak first.

“The emperor of Jin is about to march against the states of Xia and Hua,” Wang Chuan said, pointing to the map.

“Why another war?” Yang Hao blurted out.

Everyone knew this sovereign loved war, but did he need to draw his sword so often just to prove himself?

That was going too far. Did he never count the cost?

If it were his own business, he would still weigh things step by step, look three moves ahead, and consider the risks in advance, calculating gains and losses.

A ruler should not act with such reckless abandon.

Wang Chuan nodded. “At first I thought the same. But this time it is real. The emperor of Jin will personally lead the campaign. If he does not succeed, he will not return home. This is a war that will decide the fate of the realm, one that stakes his reputation itself. I also keep feeling that his resolve is absolute. He said he has been laying the groundwork for twenty years.”

Twenty years?

When had that begun?

They all drew in a sharp breath.

“And that is not the most important part. Once the war begins, he will send me to the western front to block the harassment from the states of Wei and Tang, and perhaps even the northern barbarians,” Wang Chuan said.

By then, if Jin truly revealed the power to destroy both states, the other two would naturally not sit by and wait for death.

“The emperor of Jin will surely draw away the main force. At that point your Highness’s situation will be even more precarious than before. But if the western front is breached, Your Highness, you will become the sinner,” Duan Changfeng analyzed. “And then, what of the state of Yu?”

What role would the remaining state of Yu play?

“I am to persuade Yu that if Wei and Tang attack our Yang City to save Wei, then Yu should harass the two states, seize cities and lands. This is the hunter becoming the hunted,” Wang Chuan said with a sigh.

“Yu...” Duan Changfeng murmured. “But how much can they really do? Can the emperor of Jin truly dare to risk the entire world? Once troops reach Yang City, even if Your Highness’s reputation suffers, for the emperor of Jin, Jin itself may no longer be secure. Even if he conquers the two states, would he not still be trapped in a desperate corner?”

“He is confident. Very confident. I have rarely seen such confidence, and it is not arrogance,” Wang Chuan said.

It gave him a faint sense of familiarity.

Because Wang Chuan himself was equally confident.

“Have Xia and Hua shown any unusual movement?” Duan Changfeng asked.

He looked to the other two.

“No news at all,” Yang Hao said.

Tian Xingzi also shook his head.

“Make full preparations. Yang Hao, your people must keep watch on every movement,” Duan Changfeng reminded him.

“Understood,” Yang Hao said with a nod.

“To a merchant, there is profit in peace and prosperity, and there is also profit in war,” Wang Chuan said. “Use your own judgment. Since you have this advantage, make good use of it.”

“I understand.” Yang Hao nodded, then asked, “Then can Your Highness confirm when it will be?”

“I’ll tell you in advance,” Wang Chuan said.

“I understand.” Yang Hao nodded again. “Then in the future, will Your Highness need money? A great deal of money?”

A great deal.

“Let us speak of it then. The more, the better,” Wang Chuan said, sitting back down and falling silent in thought.

...

The state of Yu.

The empress wore plain garments, white as snow, her jade hands hanging naturally at her sides. Beneath the snowy hem of her dress were embroidered shoes, each adorned with a tiny wildflower, and it was these shoes that encased her bound feet.

Bathed in the splendor of a luminous and glorious radiance, her figure seemed to emit a faint, sacred glow. Her white silk robes stirred gently in the breeze, breathtakingly beautiful.

“Your Majesty, it is time to dine.”

She came over to remind him softly.

The man on the dragon throne saw her, and the furrow in his brow eased somewhat.

A faint white brilliance seemed to emanate from her silken robes; she was so detached and noble, like a celestial maiden untouched by the mortal world. Her black cloud of hair drifted softly by her ears in the wind, like a spirit dancing freely upon the breeze. She had a delicate, stunning oval face, her powdered cheeks adding an unusual beauty. Her slender brows curved like a distant spring mountain washed in light ink, and her lovely eyes shone like jewels, bright and clear, with a flowing softness like autumn waters—more enchanting than a begonia drunk on sunlight, more radiant than a goddess descended from myth. Her high, graceful nose was beautiful beyond measure, and beneath it her small, delicate lips were tinted with a touch of red like ripe cherries; when she smiled, a glimpse of white teeth appeared, and her expression was tender and charming.

Such gentleness was enough to intoxicate the soul and soften all things in the world.

“They sent a letter over there, and so did Wei’er. It is for you.”

The emperor of Yu produced a letter and handed it to her.

“So quickly?” The empress was astonished.

“If you have anything you wish to say, just write a reply and send it back. A man like Wang Chuan naturally has his own means,” the emperor of Yu said with a sigh.

“I thought it was you missing Wei’er,” the empress said, unfolding her letter. “Wei’er says they are living quite well. Wang Chuan is also very gentle and attentive; he has taken her to see so many things and often plays with her. That child truly is something else, never liking to study or learn embroidery...”

While she secretly watched his expression, and seeing that it had improved considerably, she asked, “Then what did the letter to you say?”

“Only some trifles. The documents and envoys from Jin are already on the way, so let us prepare the dowry,” the emperor of Yu said, rising to his feet.

He had never before yielded.

And yet this time, for the sake of his daughter...

He would try making an exception.

Then how far would Wang Chuan be willing to go for her in the future?

He must never let her suffer any grievance.

Seeing the joy bloom across the empress’s face, the emperor of Yu could only sigh inwardly. He smiled and said, “I need to see the men from the Ministry of War and several marquises. I will go to dinner earlier, and not keep you waiting too long.”

...

A maid stood at the mouth of an alley, craning her neck to peer around. When she saw Xu Qing walking over, she cried out in alarm, “Good heavens!”

She hurried to seize his sleeve and drag him away by force. “Come quickly!”

The maid had been waiting anxiously for a long while. In a rush she led him through the back gate into the mansion of the Lord of Xiangcheng. Carefully avoiding the crowded main road, she took a side path through a hidden passage and entered a secluded pavilion.

“You just got the money and ran off to drink! You were gone the whole day! Xu Dazhi, do you want to die?”

Xu Qing smiled and reached out to pinch her chest.

The maid froze, her eyes flying wide as she hurriedly covered herself. “You!”

“You are just like your mistress.”

As he spoke, Xu Qing groped shamelessly over her body.

A strange sensation rose from below, and the maid’s pretty face flushed scarlet.

“Don’t...” The maid struggled to push him away. Hastily straightening her clothes, she fled ahead as if escaping for her life to lead the way.

At last the imperial consort saw him and said, half-angry and half-annoyed, “You fool, where did you run off to yesterday? I could never find you.”

“I went to the gambling house and won money. They took me to drink with singing girls,” Xu Qing said.

“Didn’t I tell you not to go there anymore? How could those women compare to me? You should just look for me,” the imperial consort said with a trace of anger.

“They can take the small path,” Xu Qing replied blankly.

“Just that? Fine, then I’ll let you take that path too, all right?” the imperial consort said, speechless.

Still, she was somewhat tense and afraid.

She had not yet tried it herself, and did not know whether it would hurt.

The little maid twisted a handkerchief between her fingers, worrying it back and forth.

At the thought of the way that man had just been fondling her, she felt both anger and a rush of heat to her cheeks.

Suddenly, the mistress’s summons came from within.

“Xiaojie... come quickly...”

The consort’s voice was extremely urgent and flustered, as if tinged with fear.

The little maid’s heart lurched, and she hurried inside.

What she saw in the room made her cover her small mouth in shock, nearly crying out.

The imperial consort was shaking her head, drenched in fragrant sweat, while pleading in a weak, tearful voice, “Xiaojie... come here, you come too... this wretch... be gentler... this servant can hardly bear it anymore...”

...

“This poem?”

Xu Qing had just pulled up his trousers when he accidentally glanced at the thing on the nearby desk and cried out.

“What is it? Is there a problem?” the imperial consort asked.

“Beyond the nine heavens, the palace gates stand open; beneath a hundred nations, crowned robes bow before the imperial diadem,” Xu Qing said. “Is this Wang Chuan’s poem?”

“Oh? So you understand this too? This poem probably hasn’t reached here yet,” the imperial consort said in mild surprise. “Only he could compose a work of such grandeur and majesty.”

“I can write poems like that too,” Xu Qing said, unconvinced.

The imperial consort found that amusing again. “Yes, yes, yes, you can write them too. You can do everything.”

“Long hair, short wisdom. Women are shallow. You understand nothing,” Xu Qing said, clutching the poem in his hand, his gaze carrying a trace of resentment and unwillingness.

A divine dragon of endless transformations, great enough to swallow heaven and earth, small enough to hide in an ant’s burrow.

And yet, though born the same, you have always stood above the nine heavens, admired and worshiped by all under heaven.

But me? I have always had to keep company with worms and eels, unable to do anything, daring to do nothing.

Afraid of being discovered, I would not even appear before your eyes...

So be it. Then you may go on being the Crown Prince of Jin, your every word and deed able to stir the world.

As for me, I will still drift idly among flowers, letting this life pass in emptiness.

“Hey, fool, come back to Yang City with me,” the imperial consort said, reluctant to part with him.

Yang City?

Wang Chuan is there now; I cannot go.

I will go to the states of Xia and Hua to hide for a while.

Not long after leaving the mansion...

Xu Qing was walking down a secluded alley, heading home.

At that moment, a blind beggar was shuffling along with a staff.

But all at once his body tilted, shifting sideways like a specter by more than three yards.

At the same time, a palm abruptly appeared in the air and landed where Xu Qing stood, striking nothing but emptiness.

The alley was narrow. Xu Qing’s figure flickered, and he had already pressed himself against the mud-brick wall on the other side.

A man from the Fourth Prince?

That useless wretch truly can do nothing. Now it seems he has any right to contend with Wang Chuan?

In matters like this, what use is there in neglecting one’s own mother and patching the surface without curing the disease?

His sleeves swirled up, and a fierce wind sprang forth, the clash of inner force ringing out in a chain of sharp snaps.

Then his five fingers snapped out like claws. The other man suddenly felt his whole body turn wooden, unable to move, as though control of it had been stolen away.

That eerie, unfathomable claw technique carried an irresistible force of suction.

A feeling of utter despair rose in him.

It was as though there were no place left in heaven or earth from which to flee.

Xu Qing applied a little more force, broke the man’s throat, curled his body into a ball, and flung him far away like a tossed sphere.

That very night he left, and never returned to the city.