Chapter Sixty: The Five Elders Monastery

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The Palace of the King of Han

King An of Han lay feebly upon his bed, his breaths shallow and his strength waning. Beside him, the Fourth Prince, Han Yu, tended him with utmost care, gently administering medicine. The king’s other sons stood in quiet attendance, unease etched on each face. Even the spirited and mischievous Honglian, usually so unruly, now sat at the edge of the bed, her eyes swollen and red, gazing at her father with silent grief.

“Father, please recover soon... It pains me to see you like this,” Honglian pleaded, watching her father’s ashen face, her own heart wrung with sorrow.

Han Fei placed a gentle hand on Honglian’s shoulder. “Father needs to rest. Don’t be so disheartened, Honglian. He will get better.”

Just then, Han Yu seemed to recall something and turned to Han Fei. “When one is gladdened by joyous tidings, the body often recovers more quickly. Honglian has reached the age of marriage. Perhaps, if we arrange a good match for her, it will cheer Father’s spirits.”

Both Han Fei and Honglian were taken aback, staring at their fourth brother in disbelief.

Han Fei’s gaze turned cold as he regarded his gentle and refined sibling. “And what does Fourth Brother propose?”

Han Yu smiled serenely, undisturbed by the tension. “Among all in the state of Han, only the Grand General Ji Wuye is worthy of Honglian. The general recently lost his son; if our families are joined in marriage, would it not be a most auspicious union?”

At these words, Han Fei struck out at Han Yu, but the latter, anticipating the move, nimbly dodged.

“Ninth Brother, there is no need for anger. Sooner or later, Honglian must marry. To wed Ji Wuye would benefit Han in countless ways: it would secure the loyalty of the army and gladden Father. What are you objecting to?” Han Yu’s tone was placid, his speech deliberate.

From his sickbed, King An struggled to open his eyes, attempting to speak, his trembling hand pointing at his fourth son.

“Rest easy, Father. Leave this matter to me,” Han Yu said, grasping the King’s hand in reassurance.

“You—” King An barely managed a word before slipping again into unconsciousness.

At that moment, the Prime Minister, Zhang Kaidi, entered.

“Fourth Prince, there have been uprisings across many counties; the common folk are involved, as well as some local officials and soldiers.”

Han Yu’s brows knit in concern. “Has Ji Wuye not dispatched troops to quell the rebellion?”

Zhang Kaidi shook his head helplessly. “General Ji says he must guard the capital and refuses to send forces.”

Han Yu touched his forehead pensively. “Go, tell Ji Wuye that Father has agreed to give Honglian’s hand in marriage. Let him act swiftly to pacify the unrest.”

Zhang Kaidi looked at the Fourth Prince in utter disbelief, but with a sigh, accepted the order and withdrew. Matters of the royal family, after all, were not for an outsider to meddle in.

...

When Ji Wuye heard Zhang Kaidi relay the Fourth Prince’s words, the stern lines of his face relaxed into a broad smile. Instantly, the image of the lovely, spirited Honglian rose in his mind.

“I can send out troops now, but military wages must be paid in advance—‘Before the horses march, the grain must arrive.’ Surely, Prime Minister, you know this,” Ji Wuye declared.

He had little choice. Ever since Li Yu’s banknotes had proved so convenient, King An had ordered their use in the army. The loyalty of the troops now owed more to Ji Wuye’s lingering authority than to actual discipline, and the army’s supplies were running dangerously low, compounded by recent hoarding and speculation on grain. That scoundrel Jade Tiger had sold off army rations for profit, and now, with only three days’ grain left, neither the man nor the food could be found.

“The treasury is empty. Where am I to find you funds?” Zhang Kaidi asked with resignation.

“Didn’t Fang Yu deliver a shipment of money to the treasury recently? Where is it?” Ji Wuye pressed, acutely aware of every coin’s movement.

“That money was counterfeit! It dissolves in water, burns in fire—just colored stones inside. The supposed millions were fake,” Zhang Kaidi answered, nearly in tears.

He had planned to use those funds to relieve the pressing crisis, but upon inspection, found only the topmost chest contained genuine coins; the rest were colored stones. Zhang Kaidi nearly collapsed from outrage.

In a side chamber of the palace, Honglian sobbed uncontrollably in Han Fei’s arms.

“Brother, I won’t marry Ji Wuye! I won’t marry anyone—never!”

Han Fei wrapped his arms around his sister, his thoughts turning to Fang Yu. “If Fang Yu wished to marry you, would you agree?”

A blush flickered across Honglian’s cheeks, but she quickly retorted in anger, “He’s a liar! I’d never marry him!”

Han Fei stroked her hair, sighing. “He’s the only one who can help us now. I do not know what power he truly holds, but it must be considerable. Just wait—within days, this matter will come to a head.”

...

The streets of Xinzheng bustled with activity. With people scarce and land even scarcer, everyone knew each other as neighbors. When the conscripted soldiers attempted to drive off the rioters with drawn blades, many locals cursed them to their faces.

“Ergou, you think you’re something now? I’m your Fourth Uncle—try swinging that blade, go on!” an old man shrieked, waving a kitchen knife, more agitated than the soldiers themselves.

“Sanwa, who fed you when you were starving? Now you serve the landlords, bullying your own kin? Some son you are!” a woman shouted at another soldier.

Most of the front-line troops were born of poverty themselves. To send them into battle against outsiders was one thing; to make them suppress their own friends and family was quite another—none could bring themselves to shed blood.

The hearts of the common folk were soft; unlike the cold-blooded royal family, most could not bear to see such suffering. In this tug of war, the masses soon gathered outside the palace gates. Idlers and vagabonds joined in, turning to looting and destruction. The entire state of Han was plunged into chaos.

Madam Mingzhu watched over King An, a pill in her hand.

“If not for that rascal ordering me to save you, I wouldn’t care if you lived or died, you old ghost,” she muttered, slipping the pill into King An’s mouth.

“Dearest Yu, when will you come for your Yue’er?” she murmured, her hand drifting to her bosom as though feeling Li Yu’s caress.

While the kingdom struggled in turmoil, one man thrived—Han Yu, whose years of scheming had finally borne fruit. Even in sleep, a smile played on his lips. The taste of power was intoxicating.

As for the unrest, Han Yu believed that once he secured loans and supplies from another state, all would be well.

The next day, as Han Yu entered the palace as usual to oversee state affairs, he was astonished to find his father, King An, seated at the head of the hall, looking much recovered.

He was taken aback, but quickly regained composure, bowing low. “It is a great joy to see Father’s swift recovery.”

King An smiled. “Thanks to Madam Mingzhu’s medicine.”

Han Yu pressed on. “Father, the kingdom is in turmoil. I suggest sending Ninth Brother to Wei to seek urgent aid.”

King An held a document in his hand. “The envoy from Qin has arrived in Xinzheng, bearing a letter. Their prince seeks to marry Honglian. What do you make of this?”

Han Yu was stunned. “When did this happen?”

Zhang Kaidi stepped forward. “The envoy arrived today, bearing a bride price of one hundred thousand in gold.”

Han Yu’s mind raced. If Honglian married the Qin prince, the state would benefit, but he himself would gain nothing. He bowed and said, “But yesterday, I already promised Honglian to our Grand General Ji Wuye. Besides, Qin is a nation of tigers and wolves, ever coveting Han. We must be cautious.”

Han Fei spoke up. “It is said that Li Yu is a peerless man, worthy of Honglian. But is it not suspicious? Han has only been in turmoil a few days, and already Qin sends envoys with gold. Is it not too coincidental?”

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Zhang Kaidi stepped out again. “Coincidence or not, we’ll know upon meeting. I hear the Qin envoy is Ninth Prince’s old classmate—his name is Li Si. Perhaps the prince can sound him out.”

Han Fei started, recalling his days at the Lesser Sage Academy and the poverty-stricken classmate he once admired for his perseverance.

“Summon him to the throne,” King An ordered.

An attendant announced, “The envoy from Qin is summoned.”

Li Si entered, staff of office in hand, and bowed deeply to King An. “Li Si of Qin greets the great King of Han.”

“Li Si, you have come a long way. What brings you here?” King An asked directly.

“I come to promote friendship between Qin and Han,” Li Si replied unhurriedly.

“Oh? And what does that mean, specifically?” King An’s eyes narrowed.

“My king has long heard of your wise and virtuous daughter, and his sworn brother has admired her from afar. I bring a letter, hoping to unite our families in marriage,” Li Si stated.

“My daughter Honglian lost her mother early. She is my only beloved child, and I cherish her deeply. Such a matter requires her consent,” King An replied, setting the matter aside for the moment.

Li Si then bowed again. “I have also heard that a certain poisonous woman in your palace caused the death of Princess Honglian’s mother, now known as Madam Mingzhu. My king wishes, for the sake of his future sister-in-law, that this woman be divorced and justice done on behalf of Honglian’s late mother.”

These words sent shockwaves through the court, and even Li Si wiped sweat from his brow. What business was this! He had tried to refuse this task, but Li Yu threatened to expose his embezzlement if he did not comply. No wonder Li Yu had always said that one could take a little for oneself, that water too clear holds no fish—he had been preparing for this moment.

Having already sacrificed his face, Li Si pressed on. “My king is willing to pay an additional two hundred thousand in gold as bride price.”

The court fell silent. Four hundred thousand in gold would solve their most urgent needs, and as a gift, not a loan. Many were tempted, including King An. Though Madam Mingzhu had just saved his life, compared to the needs of the nation, what was one woman?

Li Si then offered a condition King An could not refuse. “My king is also willing to send troops to help Han suppress the rebellion.”

“Is this true?” King An leapt to his feet.

Han Fei interjected, “Father, this is dangerous—easy to invite the god, hard to send him away!”

King An realized he had been too hasty. Indeed, Qin’s armies, once in Han, might never leave.

Zhang Kaidi stepped in. “Let the envoy remain a while in Han; our king will soon give his reply.”

Li Si bowed and withdrew.

Han Yu now spoke. “Father, you can divorce Madam Mingzhu for now, see if Qin delivers the two hundred thousand in gold, and then decide. If Honglian marries, it will be out of our hands.”

This was the hardest part for King An. He liked and feared Madam Mingzhu in equal measure; to divorce her pained him. Yet for the kingdom, it was a small price to pay. Once the crisis was past, he could always reinstate her.

Unbeknownst to him, Madam Mingzhu was in a side chamber, having witnessed everything—including the look on his face.

“Father, what’s there to hesitate about? Two hundred thousand in gold is Han’s military budget for two years!” Han Yu pressed.

No sooner had he finished speaking than the sound of footsteps echoed from the rear hall. The enchanting figure of Madam Mingzhu appeared before the ministers, a faintly contemptuous smile on her lips as she looked down at the assembly.

“Great King, I heard the Qin envoy’s words. For the peace of Han, I am willing to endure this humiliation,” she declared with rare sorrow in her eyes.

“Madam, there’s no need…” King An had made his decision but tried to demur with gentle words.

“To have been your wife for so many years is satisfaction enough for me. That in my final days I can ease your burden is my duty as your spouse,” Madam Mingzhu replied, struggling not to smile as she exchanged false courtesies with the king.

“Father, there’s no need to be so upset. Once this is over, we can reinstate Madam Mingzhu,” Han Yu quickly suggested.

“Indeed! There’s no need for sorrow. As always, Fourth Son finds a way,” King An replied, feeling much clearer in mind.

Before the whole court, he picked up a brush to write the letter of divorce. Only Han Fei shook his head helplessly—Qin’s money would not come so easily.

As Madam Mingzhu received the letter of divorce, a smile tugged at her lips. She quickly feigned distress and left the hall. “Dearest Yu, I’m coming!”

...

While the Han court dreamed of two hundred thousand in gold, across the land a great purge against the king’s “evil ministers” had begun, with rumors swirling everywhere.

“I heard Ji Wuye lusted after the king’s beauty and killed many for it.”

“That’s nothing! My cousin’s aunt said Ji Wuye tried to forcefully marry the princess, and because the king refused, he tried to poison him. If not for Madam Mingzhu, the king would be dead by now!”

“You think that’s all? I heard the Fourth Prince himself also lusts after his father’s beauty, and nearly came to blows with Ji Wuye over it.”

“I heard he not only covets beauties but also his father’s wife, and forced the king to divorce the very woman who saved his life. What a disgraceful son!”

“I also heard the Fourth Prince swings both ways, just like King Anli of Wei, and keeps a houseful of pretty boys.”

“And I heard Ji Wuye and Han Yu are secret lovers.”

“Really? That’s disgusting!”

“It must be true—why else would the rumors be so detailed?”

“Let’s go to Wuzhuang Temple for porridge! There are still good people in the world. At first I thought my son was lying about free porridge in the suburbs, but it’s real!”

“Yes! The old abbot seemed so kind—said to be from a Daoist branch who came down from the mountains.”

“Daoists care for the people!”

“Yes, and I heard they hand out free kitchen knives too.”

“If only there were more Wuzhuang Temples in the world.”

“My friend says there are many now in Han, and they’ve become gathering places for us common folk.”

“With endless wars, there are more poor than ever.”

“But I hear in Qin even the commoners eat meat now.”

“Nonsense! I haven’t smelled meat in a year.”

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“Why would I lie? My aunt’s grandson does business in Qin.”

“Is it true?”

“It is.”

“How wonderful it would be to live in Qin!”

“Yes! Yes!”

“Have you heard of the ‘Purge of Evil Ministers’?”

“I’ve heard mention of it.”

“What does it mean?”

“They say the King of Han has been led astray by sycophants, and some seek to rid him of treacherous ministers!”

“I think the Ninth Prince is a good man, but his voice is too small.”

“I support the Ninth Prince too.”

“He’s helped us a lot as Minister of Justice—we should help him in return.”

“Yes, we must speak out for him.”

“Let the king hear the voice of Han’s people!”

“Yes! Why don’t we found a Wuzhuang Sect?”

“The teachings of Wuzhuang Temple will be our doctrine: let all people have enough to eat!”

“Let all have enough to eat!”

“Let’s go get kitchen knives!”

“Let’s go!”

...

The night sky over Douluo was even more dazzling than that of Earth, a deep blue canvas flecked with brilliance—utterly enchanting.

Li Yu held Dugu Yan in his arms, gazing up at the bright moon.

“Yan Yan, how many children do you think we should have if we get married someday?”

“You’re talking nonsense! I won’t have any—childbirth is painful.”

“All right, all right! No children, then. Yan Yan, do you think Grandpa is spying on us right now?”

“You’re so ridiculous. Dragging me out here to watch the moon at night!”

“I just want to look at you a little longer. You’ll be leaving for the Star Dou Forest tomorrow, and who knows when we’ll meet again?”

“You could come with us!”

“I have some things to take care of. When I’m done, I’ll find you.”

“Why do you insist on taking a teaching post at Nuoding Academy? I don’t get it.”

“Yan Yan, I want to kiss you,” Li Yu murmured, gently cradling Dugu Yan’s delicate face, drawing closer.

She hurriedly stopped him. “No—my body’s poisonous.”

Li Yu gazed at her exquisite features, his eyes full of tenderness. “I’m not afraid. For you, I’d risk death itself.” With that, he kissed her with deep affection.

Dugu Yan was stunned. When Yu Tianheng had pursued her, he was always fearful of getting too close, despite his kindness—there had always been a distance between them. That was why she hadn’t accepted his suit. If not for Li Yu, she might have agreed to Yu Tianheng, for everyone else kept their distance. But Li Yu, unreserved in his affection...

Moved by these thoughts, she embraced Li Yu, and the two sank down into the grass, lost in each other’s warmth.

“Yu, you’re hurting me.”

“I’ll be gentle.”

“Yu, you’re pressing against me.”

“I’ll be gentle.”

Short skirts are so convenient, Li Yu mused silently.

As passion surged, they lost all restraint, swept away by the tide of emotion.

Suddenly, a purple glow spread across the sky, the silver moon turning a deep violet—a fantastical sight.

“Yu, will you marry me?” Dugu Yan asked.

“Of course. I swear it by the heavens,” Li Yu replied, holding her close and pointing to the sky.

“Yu, the moon looks so strange tonight,” she said, gazing up curiously.

“That’s because your beauty has made it blush,” Li Yu replied, stroking her enchanting face.

“Yu, I feel as if I’m dreaming, becoming your woman in such a daze,” Dugu Yan murmured, lost in wonder. They had only known each other ten days, yet here she was, swept away. It felt as if she’d taken the wrong medicine—but Li Yu was simply irresistible, in every way.

“I feel like I’m dreaming too, to have won the love of someone so perfect. But when passion runs deep, who can predict the heart? The moment I saw you, I knew I had to win you, or die trying,” Li Yu said with a soft smile.

“Nonsense!” Dugu Yan protested, lightly slapping him.

“I mean every word. If you don’t believe me, feel for yourself,” Li Yu said, placing her hand upon his chest.

“Don’t—touching me like that makes me uncomfortable,” she protested, trying to pull away.

“Heh! You’re my wife for life—there’s no escaping me,” Li Yu declared, pouncing on her with wolfish zeal.

“It’s getting late. If we don’t go back soon, Grandpa will worry,” Dugu Yan said, brushing grass from her clothes. She took two steps, then stumbled, casting a reproachful glance at Li Yu, still lying on his side in the grass.

“Help me,” she said, coquettishly.

“With pleasure!” Li Yu sprang up like a carp and, with a princess carry, scooped her into his arms.

“Put me down—I'm not wearing anything underneath,” Dugu Yan said, her face flushing.

“I’ll put you down when we get there. This way, you walk less,” Li Yu replied, savoring the feeling of her in his arms as he strode toward the tent.