Outside the door—
After seeing Second Sister and Third Brother off, Fu Li An remained in the courtyard with Little Fifth, Fu Chen Xing, to wait. Before long, the long-absent percussion section predictably started up inside the main hall. Fu Li An immediately seized the opportunity for an on-site lesson. “When everyone around you is working hard, the one person slacking off becomes especially conspicuous—and especially likely to make others hate that he refuses to become steel. So in the end, relying on others is never as dependable as relying on yourself.”
Fu Chen Xing watched the two shadows chasing each other around inside and nodded with heartfelt agreement. Father had even jumped onto the table. Clearly, he really did hate this particular piece of iron.
Elio’s Notes: 恨铁不成钢, literally “to hate iron for failing to become steel,” describes frustration toward someone who refuses to live up to their potential. Fu Chen Xing takes the “iron” in the expression literally.
“Is Eldest Brother beating Little Fourth again?”
Fu Xuan’s voice entered the courtyard before he did.
The percussion inside stopped at once. Fu Fu returned the saber to its place, straightened his clothes, and opened the door looking refreshed and energetic. Behind him, Fu Xi Yan was left panting on the floor, finally achieving his cherished dream of lying flat.
Fu Xuan passed through the hanging-flower gate and approached Fu Li An and Fu Chen Xing. The moment Fu Fu saw him, his brows drew together. “What happened to your forehead?”
Fu Xuan touched the bandaged wound and smiled. “That Chu fellow brought men to block my path today and insisted on challenging me.”
Fu Fu frowned. “Why would he challenge you out of nowhere?”
“He wants to go to Luoyang and thought he could use me as his stepping stone. Unfortunately, he tried to steal a chicken and lost the rice he used as bait. He invited officials from the Ministry of War to witness the match, then lost in front of them. Now he doesn’t even have room to deny the result. All those years I spent concealing my strength and pretending to be weak finally paid off.”
Elio’s Notes: 偷鸡不成蚀把米, literally “failing to steal the chicken and losing the rice used as bait,” means that a scheme backfires and leaves the schemer worse off than before.
Fu Fu knew perfectly well how turbulent the city had become over the past few days. Even so, caution was ingrained in him, and he could not help worrying. “The Yulin Guard is still directly beneath imperial authority. If you hold private matches there and His Majesty takes offense…”
Fu Xuan sneered. “Isn’t the entire capital choking on smoke precisely what he wants?”
Without the dog emperor secretly provoking both sides over the years, Fu Xuan and Chu Guang would never have become as incompatible as fire and water.
The dog emperor lived by two principles.
Anyone he disliked would be killed sooner or later. The longer he restrained himself, the more people he would kill when he finally acted.
And the more viciously his subordinates fought one another, the more securely the chair beneath his backside remained.
Anyone hoping to catch his eye therefore had to fight fiercely, make plenty of noise, and climb high enough for him to notice.
Fu Fu understood all of that, but he was conservative by nature and valued stability above all else. Even when competing, he preferred to do it discreetly. Still, he had always supported Fu Xuan. “Very well. I recently acquired several suitable items. You can take them along as gifts.”
The Fu family’s decline had only begun within the past two generations.
The late Count Yongfeng had possessed no respectable abilities, but he had been unmatched at household infighting. He had fought until the family’s vitality was badly damaged, the legitimate branch had withered, and nearly everyone had turned against him. Fortunately, the family’s military connections and accumulated foundation remained intact. Now that the relocation of the capital had presented them with an opportunity, careful maneuvering might return the Fu family to the center of power.
Fu Fu and Fu Xuan exchanged a look, each seeing the same determination in the other’s eyes.
Once their conversation turned to serious business, the younger generation could no longer participate. When Fu Li An led Fu Chen Xing away, the sharp-eyed and quick-footed Fu Xi Yan hurried after them. Outside the courtyard, he bid his brothers farewell with a face full of suffering, one hand supporting his waist as he shuffled slowly toward his room.
The instant he disappeared from their sight, his back straightened and he began humming.
He had not cultivated all that protective fat for nothing. As a child, he had frequently climbed onto roofs and torn off tiles, yet no matter what saber, spear, staff, or club came down on him—and no matter how convincing the beating looked—he always escaped without a scratch. His father’s hard-mouthed but soft-hearted “tickling” was even less threatening.
By the time his humming reached an energetic “hm-hm-ha-hey,” he faintly heard movement behind him. He had only just started bending over again when a hand landed on his shoulder.
Fu Xuan was torn between annoyance and laughter. “Stop pretending. Your father has been chasing you around with a weapon for years. When has he ever truly hurt you?”
Fu Xi Yan reluctantly straightened. “But when has he ever truly not chased me around with one?”
“Don’t blame him for being anxious. You’re already sixteen. It’s time to think seriously about your future.”
Fu Xi Yan hesitated before cautiously asking, “You also think I should be sent into a marriage alliance?”
Fu Xuan stared at him. “You already have someone you like?”
Fu Xi Yan stared back. “Wasn’t it supposed to be arranged?”
After a brief and awkward silence, Fu Xuan cleared his throat. “A man should set his sights on the four corners of the world. At your age, you should establish a career first.”
Fu Xi Yan: “…”
Just because you phrased it politely doesn’t mean I can’t tell that you and your brother are breathing through the same nostril!
Fu Xi Yan spread his hands. “But I’m no good at either scholarship or martial arts.”
The night was bleak.
So was he.
In a transmigration or rebirth story, what formerly useless protagonist did not work hard?
Especially after discovering that this was a high-martial world where people could soar through the sky and disappear beneath the earth, Fu Xi Yan had immediately prepared himself for a loser’s glorious reversal—no, for rocketing straight into the heavens. While still wearing split-crotch trousers, he began practicing the horse stance. Not even the draft blowing straight through and chilling his bare backside could extinguish his enthusiasm for martial arts.
When he turned five, the proper age to begin formal training, Fu Xuan gave him the Heavenly Dipper Primordial Unity Art. Supposedly, anyone who mastered it could enter the ranks of first-rate experts.
The name of the manual might have sounded unremarkable, but Fu Xi Yan’s progress certainly was not. In only two years, he entered the True Origin Stage.
In this world, true origin served much the same purpose as a spiritual root in cultivation stories: it determined whether someone could practice martial arts. Once true origin formed, a person could absorb the essence of heaven and earth through meditation, transform it into true qi, temper their tendons, cleanse their marrow, and advance toward higher realms.
The Fu family had never been particularly gifted in martial arts. Fu Xi Yan entering the True Origin Stage at the age of seven therefore delighted the entire household.
Unfortunately, the delight did not last.
Once other people entered the True Origin Stage, they could immediately sense true qi moving through their bodies. Fu Xi Yan alone possessed true origin but produced no true qi at all.
It was like finally assembling a computer, only for it to crash the instant he switched it on.
Fortunately, the Fu family was honorable. They did not praise him to the heavens when he showed promise and then trample him underfoot when that promise failed. Instead, they comforted him and searched for every possible solution.
Fu Xuan reassured him, “Your talent is extraordinary. Something has merely gone wrong with your body. The Little Divine Physician could not cure you, but his master is still the Old Divine Physician. Once he examines you, you may yet shed your mortal limitations and enter the Dao.”
Fu Xi Yan said nothing.
Physicians, medicine, physical training, hidden masters among the common people… He had tried everything he could think of. The only thing he had not done was jump off a cliff in hopes of discovering a secret manual at the bottom.
But anyone who had walked the ordinary mortal route knew how it went. Without an author suddenly handing over a golden finger, escaping mortality was one enormous pain in the ass.
Still, he could not let one blocked road leave him with nowhere to go. If he could not sweep across the world with a sword, then wielding supreme political power sounded perfectly respectable.
So at thirteen, he changed tracks.
If martial arts refused to cooperate, he would study literature, take the imperial examinations, win first place, enter the Grand Secretariat, become chancellor, and reach the summit of life that way!
Unfortunately, his previous life as a science student had already foretold that he would remain incompatible with the humanities through three lives and three worlds. He had struggled enough with simplified Chinese, much less lines like Heaven is dark and earth is yellow; the universe is vast and primordial. Battling words such as “alas” and “woe” for two full years before finally issuing his salted-fish declaration had already been more than generous to his father.
Every day, someone pressed his head over books and forced him to remember the elegant classical names for whirlwinds, lightning, frost, and moonlight, along with which words were supposed to pair with cloud, rain, snow, and wind. The ordeal left him so muddled that he could no longer even recite the periodic table.
Elio’s Notes: “Heaven is dark and earth is yellow; the universe is vast and primordial” is the opening of the Thousand Character Classic, a traditional primer used to teach children literacy and classical language.
Fu Xuan saw Fu Xi Yan staring miserably at the night sky and felt a surge of tenderness. The Fu family had not survived through Heaven’s mercy. It had survived because its members stood together and crossed troubled waters in the same boat.
As long as a Fu descendant did not turn against the family, Fu Xuan would find a place for them—whether they were exceptionally talented or had ended like Zhong Yong, a childhood prodigy whose promise had faded away.
Elio’s Notes: Fang Zhong Yong was a gifted child described in Wang An Shi’s essay The Injury of Zhong Yong. His talent disappeared because he was not properly educated, and his name became shorthand for wasted potential.
Fu Xuan’s resolve became firm as stone. “Little Fourth.”
“Uh…” Fu Xi Yan said sincerely, “Just call me Fourth.”
Fu Xuan immediately accommodated him. “Hun Ding.”
Every time Fu Xi Yan heard that former name, his soul nearly flew out of his body. Fortunately, his overwhelming gloom had persuaded his father to rename him the previous year. He compromised. “…Little Fourth is fine.”
Fu Xuan wisely moved past a subject that could otherwise continue forever. “Tomorrow morning, you’ll come with me and report to the Yulin Guard.”
Fu Xi Yan froze. “Isn’t it extremely difficult to enter the Yulin Guard?” He had heard that even the legitimate sons of many noble houses were still waiting for openings.
“You possess true origin and were born into Count Yongfeng’s Estate. You are more than qualified.” As Deputy Commander, Fu Xuan could have pulled every string available and brought his nephew in long ago. He had previously held back because he feared Chu Guang would interfere. Now that the two sides had openly torn away all pretense, he naturally needed to speed up his arrangements.
Fu Xi Yan objected inwardly. It was not that he had never considered helping the family or making useful connections. Unfortunately, this appearance-obsessed world made a special exception for him.
Whenever he went outside, people did not even wait to see his face. His body alone was enough to attract ridicule and mockery.
Fortunately, his previous life had given him plenty of combat experience through endless exchanges of abuse with terrible players in online games. Otherwise, he might already have become depressed and withdrawn.
But Fu Xuan’s concern was sincere, and Fu Xi Yan could not reject him outright. “Serving in the Yulin Guard won’t be too exhausting, will it?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be there.” Fu Xuan seemed not to notice the reluctance written all over his face. He smiled. “You won’t disappoint me, will you?”
Fu Xi Yan: “…”
Don’t ask.
The answer is absolutely yes.
Fu Xi Yan stared earnestly at his uncle and drew a deep breath…
Forget it. His father had only just put him through a training session. There was no need to schedule another beating so soon.
He returned to his room burdened with worry and threw himself facedown onto the couch. After lying there for a while, he suddenly sprang up full of life, dragged a bamboo basket from beside the bed, rummaged through it, and summoned his servant. “I’m out of lard. Bring me some fresh lard from the kitchen.”
The servant looked miserable. “You’re making that soap again? It’s already so late. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
Fu Xi Yan sneered. “‘Tomorrow follows tomorrow, and how many tomorrows there are.’ Your young master is a man of swift and decisive action. When I decide to do something, I naturally do it at once.”
Elio’s Notes: Fu Xi Yan quotes the opening of the Song of Tomorrow, a poem warning against endlessly postponing one’s work.
After abandoning both martial arts and scholarship, Fu Xi Yan had begun thinking about how to develop this world’s technology tree. His salted-fish declaration was merely camouflage. With his father constantly finding new ways to work him, how else could he carve out enough time for research?
He had already planned everything.
After the capital moved, he would remain in Haojing, far enough from the emperor that no one could easily interfere with him. Then he could build a dedicated laboratory. Soap was only the first step. Cement, glass, and plastic would follow.
In short, he could not allow inadequate facilities to limit his genius!
Exactly.
If the equipment was inadequate, of course the finished product would fail.
Fu Xi Yan had found the perfect explanation for why he had spent so long without producing the soap he imagined.
Huff, puff…
Huff, puff…
The moon climbed to the center of the sky.
The servant had already collapsed over the table, fast asleep with drool streaming from his mouth.
Fu Xi Yan expertly tidied the ingredients and failed products, then returned the copy of Chemistry in his hand to the chest before finally climbing into bed.
Unfortunately, once the drowsy moment had passed, his mind became excessively alert.
He closed his eyes for a while, then finally sat up to meditate.
He had long since memorized every word of the Heavenly Dipper Primordial Unity Art. During those six years when he had refused to give up, the pathways through which true qi should circulate had run constantly through his mind.
Even now, they remained carved into his bones.
The sky gradually brightened.
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