Chapter 38 The Death of the Beauty (Part One)

Zhang Chi remained unconscious until the following day before he finally woke. When he opened his eyes, he did not see San Tong Daoxuan, nor Ding Yizhi or that old priest who resembled a charlatan, but rather Master Han.

Master Han was already an elderly man, his hair and beard long since white, but now he seemed even more aged and frail than before.

“Young master, you are finally awake. I have waited several hours for you,” Master Han said quietly, sitting at Zhang Chi’s side as he saw him open his eyes.

“Master Han?” Zhang Chi had only just regained consciousness and, upon seeing Master Han, wondered if he was still dreaming. Startled, he asked, “Why is Master Han here? Have I already returned to Jiankang City? Am I at the academy now?”

Master Han sighed and replied, “You are not in Jiankang. You are still north of the Yangtze River. Yesterday, you routed the Northern Garrison Army; your name is already famed throughout the land. The three armies are now camped on the northern bank of the river.”

“Then why is Master Han here? And where is Miss Wang?” Zhang Chi inquired.

At the mention of Miss Wang, Master Han furrowed his brow and said, “Today is the day of her wedding. She must be in Jiankang, of course. I come by her command, bearing a message for you.”

When Zhang Chi heard that today was Miss Wang’s wedding day, a wave of unspeakable sorrow surged in his chest—a feeling that was neither sadness nor grief, but something that simply clogged his heart. It was puzzling enough that he felt this way, but why did Master Han also look so grim, as if he had just lost his own father?

“Bah,” Zhang Chi silently rebuked himself. How could he make such an association? Master Han was so old—his father must have been gone long ago. Taking a deep breath, Zhang Chi asked, “Then what brings you here, Master Han?”

“Miss Wang wrote a letter for you,” Master Han said, handing a letter to Zhang Chi.

He opened it. The handwriting was elegant and graceful, the brushstrokes both strong and beautiful. Although Zhang Chi could not write, his eye was keen and he marveled at her calligraphic skill.

Apart from a short poem, the letter contained nothing else:

Far as the eye can see,
At journey’s end, we part, each to our own home.
I travel a thousand miles from you,
And here, I plant pear blossoms.

It was a lovely poem, but why would Miss Wang write such lines to him out of nowhere? Was she about to embark on a long journey herself?

Master Han ignored Zhang Chi’s puzzled gaze and said, “Miss Wang wishes you to know that the world is on the brink of chaos. To the north, Wang Gong’s Northern Garrison Army is stirring; to the south, the Way of the Five Pecks of Rice has already raised the banner of rebellion; to the west, Huan Xuan bides his time, plotting. Only Shu in the west remains a land where heroes may rise. Miss Wang has made all arrangements for you—she urges you to lead your troops into Shu, to carve out your own fiefdom before the world descends into turmoil, so that you may one day achieve greatness, whether by advancing or holding your ground in troubled times.”

Zhang Chi could only feel helpless. Miss Wang always arranged everything for him quietly, never caring whether he was willing or not. The thought made him bristle with resentment—he had always hated being led by the nose. With this in mind, he said nothing, just left the tent looking displeased.

As soon as he stepped outside and gazed into the distance, he saw that the hills were blanketed with pear blossoms in full bloom. He suddenly remembered a conversation he had with Miss Wang before leaving Jiankang.

She had said, “When you return, let us admire the pear blossoms together.”

He had replied, “Why admire pear blossoms? In my hometown, the word for ‘pear’ sounds like the word for ‘parting’. Better not to admire them at all.”

If people do not part, there is no need to admire pear blossoms. Zhang Chi felt a sudden, sharp pang in his heart.

He recited the poem again: “Far as the eye can see, at journey’s end, we part, each to our own home. I travel a thousand miles from you, and here, I plant pear blossoms.” Suddenly, he cried out, “This is bad!”

The poem was laden with meaning, especially the final line—there was a sense of final farewell.

Though Zhang Chi had never cared much for politics or intrigue, he was not a fool. He had heard much talk recently about the state of the world: Wang Gong, governor of Qinggun, and Yin Zhongkan, governor of Jingzhou, had both raised armies; the Way of the Five Pecks of Rice had also rebelled, seeking to seize Jiankang amid the ensuing chaos. The situation in Jiankang changed moment by moment. Could it be that Miss Wang had met with some misfortune in the city?

The thought made him rush back into the tent, where he seized Master Han’s sleeve and demanded, “Did Miss Wang send you because something has happened in Jiankang?”

Master Han had always admired Miss Wang’s resourcefulness and replied, “The situation in Jiankang is indeed complicated, but Miss Wang remains calm and composed—she must have a plan. She is about to attempt something momentous. She sent me to persuade you not to return to Jiankang, but to enter Shu before the chaos breaks out. She has prepared everything for you, so that when the time comes, you can rise as a lord.”

That Miss Wang was unparalleled in cunning Zhang Chi did not doubt, but he still felt uneasy. He pressed Master Han, “If nothing has happened in Jiankang, why do you sigh so often and look so haggard?”

With a helpless sigh, Master Han explained, “Today is the day of Miss Wang’s wedding. She is a woman without equal, and there are few men in the world who could win her favor. How could she care for the son of Minister Wang, yet being born to a noble family, she cannot be with the one she loves. How could I not sigh at such misfortune?”

So the sense of finality in her letter was explained. With that, Zhang Chi finally breathed a sigh of relief.

But if Miss Wang could still control the situation, why would the world fall into chaos? Why urge him to seize Shu and become a lord? And how would she deal with the Way of the Five Pecks of Rice’s rebellion? General Canghuai and tens of thousands of his elite troops must now be lurking near Jiankang.

Thinking of General Canghuai, Zhang Chi could not help but remember the Wine Maiden.

The Wine Maiden was still trapped among Canghuai’s men. He did not know what had become of her. Though there had been little between them and their acquaintance was short, he could not bear to abandon her now after rescuing her once. That was not in his nature.

The more Zhang Chi thought, the more tangled his mind became. He had lost so much blood and only just regained consciousness; now his head was splitting with pain. For the first time, he hated that he was not one of those who could scheme and plot, even if he only had the insight of that old priest.

Remembering the priest, Zhang Chi slapped his forehead. “How foolish I am! If I cannot figure it out, why not ask someone else?” The priest had once said that, clever as Miss Wang was, she was only a mantis, while Huan Xuan was the waiting oriole. Had he foreseen something? With that thought, Zhang Chi turned to leave the tent and look for him.

But as luck would have it, word had spread that Zhang Chi was awake, and everyone was coming to see him. They arrived just outside the tent. Noticing that the old priest was nowhere in sight, Zhang Chi grabbed San Tong and asked, “Where is the priest?”

San Tong replied, “Brother Zhang, you must be psychic; you knew as soon as you woke that the priest was gone. He didn’t say where he was going—he just asked me to tell you, when you woke, that you’ll meet again one day. He said you shouldn’t worry about him.”

Zhang Chi was speechless—he wouldn’t miss him if it weren’t for pressing questions.

“Have the soldiers prepare a light boat—we’re crossing the river, back to Jiankang!” he ordered Du Ximing. Thinking it pointless to worry, he might as well return and see for himself.

Master Han had by now followed him out of the tent. Seeing Zhang Chi’s concern for Miss Wang, he was comforted but did not forget his instructions. “I urge you, young master, to enter Shu as soon as possible, before anyone else seizes that land of opportunity. That way, I honor Miss Wang’s trust. As for her, you need not worry—her wits are unmatched; who could possibly best her?”

Zhang Chi nodded—Master Han’s reasoning was sound. Yet Ding Yizhi suddenly smiled and said, “Though Miss Wang is peerless in cunning, there is indeed one person in Jiankang who can pose her a challenge.”

“Oh?” Zhang Chi and Master Han were both taken aback. “Who is it?”

“Che Yin,” Ding Yizhi replied calmly.

Zhang Chi had never heard the name and looked puzzled.

“This man was diligent and studious from his youth, reading widely. His family was so poor they could not afford lamp oil; in summer, he would catch dozens of fireflies and place them in silk to read by their light, studying night and day. Even Huan Wen once regarded him with respect for his erudition. Now almost seventy, he is highly esteemed in Jiankang and holds the rank of General Assist the State,” Ding Yizhi explained in detail.

Reading by fireflies and reflecting snow! Zhang Chi might not recognize the name, but he knew the story well—otherwise, his years of study would have been wasted.

...

Though this era is little known to the modern world, it produced no shortage of famous figures, such as Che Yin, known for reading by fireflies and snow.

Che Yin was not only learned but also a master debater. Though elderly, he still carried himself with distinction when facing the powerful Minister Wang Guobao.

Wang Guobao, though wielding power over the court, had incurred the wrath of all under heaven; thus, all he could do was boast to bolster his own confidence. “Two vassals have rebelled. Wang Gong’s vanguard of eight thousand cavalry has already been defeated by the new army adjutant Zhang Chi with five thousand infantry. It seems the Northern Garrison Army is not invincible after all. I want to persuade the court to send all our troops north to attack Wang Gong, seize control of the Northern Garrison, and then use them to conquer Jingzhou. What do you think, General?”

Che Yin smiled and retorted, “If the court sends troops against Wang Gong, and he fortifies himself in the city, what if, at the same time, Yin Zhongkan takes advantage of the current, sweeps downriver, and seizes Jiankang? What then, Minister?”

Wang Guobao was at once at a loss for words.

Che Yin smiled again. “In truth, how many court troops are left in Jiankang? The city is under martial law, with most new army units stationed outside, while inside, the soldiers mostly belong to the Xie clan. Or does the minister think the Xie clan’s troops can be relied upon?”

Everyone knew Wang Guobao was at odds with the Xie clan. Seeing him fall silent, Che Yin continued, “Minister, the two vassals have raised armies for power, and the Xie clan is also eager for power. If you cannot quell the chaos, you must choose—let the vassals gain power, or let the Xie clan do so. The choice is yours to make.”