The sun was sinking westward, and dusk unfurled from the deepening layers of light and shadow, creeping silently from the foot of the walls onto the desk. Suddenly, a mass of darkness swept down from above, cutting off the clear daylight beyond the window like a giant owl spreading wings broad enough to blot out the sun as it circled low past the sill.
“Who’s there?!”
The young man seated inside whipped around at the sound. In the blink of an eye, his hand had already found the short dagger hidden beneath the desk and drawn it up before his chest.
Yugong Zhaoye vaulted in through the window. “It’s me.”
“Your Highness?!”
The other man immediately relaxed. Wearing a face identical to Yugong Zhaoye’s, he sprang to his feet and blurted out in a thoroughly undignified voice, “You’ve finally come back! I thought…”
“Keep your voice down. Don’t shout.” Yugong Zhaoye tilted his head slightly, his ears still ringing from the explosion. “Thought what? That I—mmph—”
The stand-in snatched a pomelo from the fruit tray and shoved it straight at his face, cutting off whatever ill-omened thing Yugong Zhaoye had been about to say.
“We’re due at the palace banquet at the first quarter of the You hour. The sun is practically down, and there was still no sign of Your Highness—I thought you’d run off!”
Elio’s Notes: The You hour corresponds approximately to 5:00–7:00 p.m.; its first quarter would be shortly after 5:00 p.m.
“If I couldn’t make it back, you could have gone in my place. It’s not your first time impersonating me. What are you panicking for?” Yugong Zhaoye casually stripped off his dust-stained black outer robe. The young man caught sight of the large patch of blood on the sleeve underneath, and every hair that had only just settled promptly stood on end again. “The wound opened again? Should I call a medical officer to bandage it for you?”
“It’s fine.” Yugong Zhaoye removed his inner robe as well, bundled it together with the outer garment, and tossed both aside. Only a small patch of dried crimson remained on the white cloth wrapped around his arm. “Burn these clothes later.”
“It’s getting late. You need to change and prepare to leave.” The young man glanced at the sky, then lowered his voice and reported more gravely, “There’s something else that seems very strange. This afternoon, a unit of the Royal Army suddenly arrived, claiming they had orders to protect the delegation. No one is allowed to enter or leave freely, but from the looks of it, they’ve practically sealed off the posthouse. Vice Minister Liu tried to ask what was going on, but the officer in charge turned him away. We have no idea what happened outside. Why would Xiling suddenly do something like this…?”
Yugong Zhaoye raised a hand and stopped him. “I understand. Go ask Vice Minister Liu to come see me.”
The late king had only recently passed away, and Yugong Zhaoye was still in mourning, so he changed into another plain black robe without patterns or ornamentation. The fabric, however, was far more luxurious than the one before, and the cut much more formal. Its wide sleeves and sweeping hem completely concealed the lean, compact muscle beneath, yet when he moved, the flowing fabric traced his slender, vigorous figure with effortless grace.
Three knocks sounded from outside. At Yugong Zhaoye’s summons, Longsha’s deputy envoy, Liu Mingzhong, Vice Minister of the Court of State Ceremonial, entered in full official dress and closed the door behind him. He bowed respectfully. “What are Your Highness’s instructions?”
His official robe was the same pale crimson as Wei Fu’s. Yet perhaps Xiling’s dyeing techniques were more advanced, or perhaps the material itself was finer—the color had somehow looked brighter and richer on Wei Fu.
The thought surfaced for no apparent reason. Yugong Zhaoye wondered if the explosion had knocked something loose in his head. He ground his back teeth and said with a trace of coldness, “There’s something I need to tell you in advance.”
This stubborn mule of a man probably did not even know how to write the word “subtle.” Without so much as asking Liu Mingzhong to sit, he dropped a bolt from the blue on him. “This afternoon, both envoys appointed by Xiling were attacked in the street. The assassins used thunderfire bombs to destroy their carriages. The chief envoy, Han Shao, was gravely injured and remains unconscious. The deputy envoy, Wei Fu, narrowly escaped.”
“What?!”
Liu Mingzhong’s vision went black. He swayed several times where he stood, almost convinced he had misheard. Yugong Zhaoye gave him no chance to catch his breath. Whether Liu Mingzhong could digest the news or not, he continued, “There were two groups of attackers. They had learned both men’s routes beforehand and struck separately. They used the same method in each case: deliberately crashing into the carriage to force the driver to stop, then seizing the opportunity to throw a thunderfire bomb inside. Once the explosion caused chaos and drew a crowd, they scattered sheets of paper bearing lines of verse among the people.”
Liu Mingzhong asked shakily, “What verse?”
Yugong Zhaoye pulled a sheet of yellow paper from his sleeve and handed it to him.
Two lines of black characters came into view. Liu Mingzhong thought his eyes were playing tricks on him and read them three times before drawing in a sharp breath. He staggered and caught himself against the table, barely managing to stay upright. “Th-this… who did this? How could anyone choose a moment like this to cause trouble? Have they gone mad?!”
Yugong Zhaoye abruptly asked, “You also think someone from Longsha wrote it?”
“I…”
Liu Mingzhong froze, then quickly understood what he meant. His face flushed scarlet, and he slammed a fist onto the table in grief and fury. “This is worse than murder—they mean to destroy us and damn our name along with us! They’re trying to force Longsha onto a dead end! I have failed His Majesty’s trust. How could I possibly face the late king in the underworld…?”
“Don’t start writing your will just yet. It’s not time for you to die gloriously for the nation, Vice Minister Liu.” Yugong Zhaoye had no choice but to tap the table and interrupt him. “We have spent the entire afternoon inside the posthouse. We should not know about any of this. I’m telling you beforehand so you can save that righteous indignation for tonight’s banquet and express it in front of the emperor of Xiling.”
It was as though someone had jabbed Liu Mingzhong hard in the waist. The torrent of words stuck in his throat all at once, leaving his chest aching with everything he had been forced to swallow back. He gritted his teeth and took several breaths before finally realizing that something was wrong. Hadn’t Yugong Zhaoye supposedly been sitting quietly inside the posthouse all afternoon as well? How did he know what had happened? And where had that sheet of verse come from?
Bihua was so secret that only a handful of Longsha’s court officials even knew of its existence. Liu Mingzhong’s rank was nowhere near high enough for him to inquire into such matters. All he knew was that besides the officials dispatched by the court, Yugong Zhaoye had brought several attendants of his own, all from Yeguang Hall.
In truth, Liu Mingzhong was not particularly familiar with Prince Xiaohui. Perhaps Yugong Zhaoye had simply grown accustomed to keeping to himself. Most of the time, he stayed alone. On the rare occasions when he spoke, it was usually a few harmless pleasantries. Whatever anyone asked of him, he seemed willing to go along with it, as though he had no opinions of his own. He appeared perfectly content to serve as a decorative figurehead, finish his duty as quickly as possible, and return home to reciting his scriptures.
But now, sitting before him, Yugong Zhaoye seemed like an entirely different person. He was no longer a white-jade idol aloof from mortal dust, but a blade that had drunk blood and cleaved the wind—hard and unyielding, its cold edge sharp enough to cut down every demon and specter under Heaven.
How strange. Why did a pampered prince look as though he had weathered years of wind like knives and frost like swords?
“Your Highness…” Liu Mingzhong murmured. Without realizing it, hope had crept into his voice as he looked anxiously at Yugong Zhaoye.
“What you said just now was correct. At a time like this, anyone who genuinely wants what is best for Longsha would never do something that cuts off our own path of retreat.”
Yugong Zhaoye had established the direction, so Liu Mingzhong naturally followed it. “Provoking Xiling does us no good whatsoever. Someone must be deliberately trying to sow discord and seize the opportunity to undermine the alliance between Xiling and Longsha.”
He settled into an attentive posture, waiting eagerly for Yugong Zhaoye to continue his analysis. Unfortunately, not everyone could launch into a lengthy argument the moment they opened their mouth the way Wei Fu could. Yugong Zhaoye simply did not have that many lies prepared, nor was verbosity in his nature. So he went straight to the conclusion. “Therefore, this must be a scheme of the Ten Aspects Sect.”
“…What?”
Liu Mingzhong stared at him, completely blindsided. “The Ten Aspects Sect?”
Yugong Zhaoye reluctantly offered him one hint. “Whoever stands to gain the most is the culprit.”
“But…”
Liu Mingzhong wanted to point out that Longsha itself was hardly united as one, and they could not yet rule out the possibility that one of their own people was responsible. Reaching a conclusion this quickly seemed far too rash. Yugong Zhaoye’s reasoning, however, might have been extremely abbreviated—almost nonexistent—but his confidence in the conclusion was absolute. “If I say it was the Ten Aspects Sect, then it was the Ten Aspects Sect.”
“When you meet the emperor of Xiling tonight, that is the only thing you need to remember.”
“I have heard that Minister Liu possesses an abundance of literary talent and is particularly skilled in poetry and prose. Meeting you today, I see your reputation is well deserved.”
“I recently happened to hear two lines of verse that I found rather interesting. Unfortunately, I do not know their origin. I wonder whether Minister Liu has ever heard them before?”
At the evening banquet, the civil officials and scholars of both nations traded poems back and forth, with an unmistakable undertone of competition beneath the refined exchange. Yugong Zhaoye had no need to participate in such elegant pursuits, leaving Liu Mingzhong to carry the burden alone. After nervously holding the line for more than half a shichen, just when he thought the drawn-out ordeal was finally nearing its end, the emperor of Xiling—who had worn a cold, inscrutable expression all evening—suddenly called his name.
Elio’s Notes: Half a shichen is approximately one modern hour.
Liu Mingzhong’s heart gave two violent thumps. He hurried to his feet. “This humble minister is shallow in talent and limited in learning. I would never dare display my crude skills before Your Majesty.”
“‘Better to perish with the city; wash away national humiliation with blood.’” Mu Heng recited the words at an unhurried pace. “What does Minister Liu think of this line? Does it sound like the work of a poet from Longsha?”
Cold sweat instantly soaked through Liu Mingzhong’s inner robe, and his legs went so weak that the ground beneath him seemed to turn to cotton. Yet he had to admit that Yugong Zhaoye’s advance warning had been invaluable. Otherwise, he would still be completely in the dark right now. Making a fool of himself would have been a minor matter; saying one wrong sentence and affecting the fate of the nation would have been a crime a hundred deaths could never atone for.
Every eye in the hall fell upon Liu Mingzhong. Only Yugong Zhaoye and Wei Fu, seated on opposite sides of the great hall, met each other’s gaze across the crowd.
Liu Mingzhong bowed deeply, then spoke in a ringing voice. “Your Majesty, the alliance between our two nations began six years ago, when Yanyuan invaded Longsha and the Battle of Bihan City became known throughout the realm. These words certainly carry the air of a man resolved to die. If the writer deliberately meant to imitate the voice of Longsha’s soldiers and civilians swearing to defend their city to the death, then the line would not sound out of place.”
Mu Heng’s lips tightened. “Then according to you, what the poem expresses is the true sentiment of Longsha’s people?”
“Your Majesty is perceptive, but that is only one voice, one narrow view. How could it speak for all the people?” Liu Mingzhong would never dare admit to such a thing so easily and immediately changed direction. “Moreover, there is a telling flaw in the wording, one that only a native of Longsha would recognize. No wonder it has misled Your Majesty’s judgment and obscured the verse’s true origin.”
The tip of Mu Heng’s brow shifted slightly. “What flaw?”
Liu Mingzhong stood straight, his voice ringing like metal striking stone. “In years past, when a wolfish nation raised armies against our borders, the soldiers and people of Longsha refused to yield even a single inch of land. Not one civil or military official bent the knee to beg for peace! We have never spoken of ‘national humiliation.’ What we faced was a national calamity, and what remains is a blood feud with our enemy that can never be reconciled—”
“A hatred for the ages! If anything could wash it away, Helan Zhenjia’s severed head was more than enough!”
Silence descended over the banquet. The assembled officials exchanged glances. In the vast, shadowed depths of the great hall, only the faint echo of Liu Mingzhong’s words lingered.
He had spoken from genuine emotion. His chest rose and fell heavily, his breathing rough and choked, and his eyes had reddened. Yugong Zhaoye quietly rose, prepared to apologize on his behalf, but the emperor of Xiling suddenly spoke from the throne. “As the saying goes, ‘Strong grass is known in fierce winds; loyal ministers are known in troubled times.’ It seems Minister Liu possesses not only eloquence, but a loyal and righteous heart as well. Attendants. Bestow upon him brush, ink, paper and inkstone, a rhinoceros-horn belt, and a golden cup.”
Even Yugong Zhaoye was taken aback. Liu Mingzhong dazedly offered his thanks, while Mu Heng said nothing further. He merely gestured to the Secretariat Drafter beside him to proclaim the imperial edict.
Once the edict appointing the Minister-Regent was proclaimed, it meant that Xiling was still willing to maintain friendly relations with Longsha. For the moment, the Longsha delegation could finally breathe easier. The perilous hurdle created by the attack on the Minister-Regent had, for now, been crossed.
Amid the clear, resonant voice of the official reading the decree, Yugong Zhaoye heard the first name. Wei Fu.
Not as deputy envoy. He had been appointed by imperial decree as the chief envoy—and as Longsha’s Minister-Regent for the next three years.
Yugong Zhaoye could not immediately turn around to catch the expression on that man’s face. But he knew exactly what those eyes looked like when they smiled.
From within the great hall, Mu Heng’s voice was not loud, yet every word reached every ear with perfect clarity.
“This afternoon, criminals lay in ambush along the road and deliberately rammed the carriages of court officials. The originally appointed chief envoy, Han Shao, and deputy envoy, Wei Fu, were both attacked. The explosions were heard throughout the surrounding streets. Minister Wei was fortunate to escape with only minor injuries. Minister Han remains unconscious even now.”
“A case this shocking is rarely seen in our dynasty. I had originally intended to choose new envoys, but Minister Wei insisted on continuing with the mission.”
“If he were to choose self-preservation, who can say the enemy would not simply use the same methods against whoever came after him? The dignity of the state cannot be challenged by petty villains. The more others seek to obstruct the alliance between our two nations, the more Xiling and Longsha must stand together.”
“A promise worth a thousand pieces of gold, unshaken even by life or death. This is his loyalty and honor, and it is also the good faith with which I treat Longsha.”
“I trust that none of you will betray this good faith.”
Elio’s Notes: The chapter title echoes the lyric “Farewell, Mom—tonight I set sail” from Moon Boat (《月亮船》), the ending song of Happy Planet (《快乐星球》), swapping “Mom” for Xiling.