Chapter 2623 - 133-138

Chapter 133: Agreement Beneath the Sewage

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

"So we have a mole!"

Fan Xian and Xin Qiwu both said it dramatically at the same time, then went quiet afterward. Both of them believed that the head of their spies in Northern Qi was not a man who would give in under torture. Since they were so easily able to capture Yan Bingyun, and knew his real name, it was very clear that there was someone hidden in the Qing court who had an agreement with Northern Qi.

Xin Qiwu shook his head. "Before this incident, even the Crown Prince and I hadn't known that Yan Bingyun had gone to Northern Qi. I believe that there are no more than five people in the court with appropriate clearance for this information. Even a fool would not believe that one of them had sold out our country. There must always be a benefit to someone committing treason, and in truth, His Majesty had trusted these people with running the country, so what benefit would treason bring?"

Fan Xian and Xin Qiwu looked at each other and saw the anxiety in each other's eyes, because they had both simultaneously had the same terrifying thought. If it wasn't a mole, then what? If it was a way for major players in the court to attack the Overwatch Council, then what could be done about it?

Fan Xian thought back to when Wang Qinian had told him about Yan Bingyun. There was something strange about it. How did he even know? Did the Overwatch Council really have complete trust in its own internal controls? Afterwards, he understood - this was something that Chen Pingping had relayed to him via Wang Qinian, but he still had some lingering fears. If he had been responsible for leaking the information, he would die a thousand deaths.

"Could someone really be so mad that they'd do such a thing? To put the interests of the entire nation in danger for the sake of a court power struggle?" Xin Qiwu laughed bitterly and shook his head.

Fan Xian also shook his head, thinking of his own travels in the palace. He knew deep down that there were indeed many such madmen in the upper echelons of the kingdom. "If Master Yan has already been captured," he asked, composing himself, "then what arrangements has His Majesty made?"

"Northern Qi still underestimates His Majesty's resolve." Xin Qiwu thought of his mighty sovereign and felt sudden confidence. "He will not cede even an inch of the territory that has been captured."

Fan Xian was astonished. "Then what are we to do about Master Yan?"

"Exchange!" There was a sudden ferocity in Xin Qiwu's face. "An exchange of prisoners. His Majesty has already set forth a plan. The previous agreement for prisoner exchange has been completely nullified and will be redone. Once we have confirmation from Northern Qi that they have Yan Bingyun, then we can start a new round of negotiations for exchanging prisoners."

Fan Xian frowned. "Northern Qi is very satisfied with the big fish they have caught. I doubt that they will agree."

Xin Qiwu shivered. "We can send two more people back to Northern Qi this time. If Northern Qi still does not agree, then when winter begins in three months' time, His Majesty will behead one thousand Northern Qi captives and send their severed heads back to Northern Qi and re-ready the army."

"Using power to pressure people might be thought of as a move for someone with no other choice. I fear that Northern Qi will also be involved in this life-or-death struggle. Both sides have a total of 3,000 prisoners, and it will be of no use to execute them tit-for-tat." Fan Xian softly tapped the desk with his hand, and suddenly a strange idea came to him. "Who are the two prisoners we are preparing to exchange? Can we get Northern Qi to agree?"

"One of them is Xiao En, who has been in our custody for 20 years." Xin Qiwu looked at him kindly. He knew that this youngster would not know Xiao En.

"He was the spymaster of the former kingdom of Northern Wei. Before the Second Northern War, the Director of the Overwatch Council and Master Fei were leaders of the Black Knights, and they rode five hundred kilometers to capture Xiao En at his son's wedding. After we captured him, the Northern Wei spy network was unable to communicate with each other. When His Majesty took to the battlefield, he did so with irresistible force, crushing what was once an enormous empire into the weak nation it is today. The Overwatch Council was greatly applauded for its work on this matter, and at the time, we young officials felt that if Xiao En had not been so bold as to leave the capital city of Shangjing in Northern Qi to travel so far for his son's wedding, then the court would have had no way of capturing him, and the war would not have gone on as smoothly as it did."

Hearing what had happened decades ago, Fan Xian sighed and said nothing, simply listening to Xin Qiwu's words.

"Of course, Xiao En was indeed brave enough to leave Shangjing, though Director Chen was braver still, unexpectedly daring to cross four hundred kilometers into enemy territory. Although he paid the price of losing both his legs, he still managed to capture Xiao En. Before then, Xiao En of Northern Wei and Chen Pingping of Southern Qing were considered the most fearsome shadowy officials in the world. Naturally, after Xiao En was captured by Director Chen, no one dared to compare the two men any further."

Fan Xian thought back as he listened. So that was how the old cripple had lost his legs. He never would have imagined that Chen Pingping was once so daring.

"Exchange Xiao En for Yan Bingyun." He thought for a moment, then made a judgment based entirely on reason. "It seems that we are quite fortunate."

"Last night, a number of high officials also felt that way," said Xin Qiwu, smiling. "But His Majesty and Director Chen did not agree. After all, Xiao En is 70 years old, and having been defeated by Director Chen, there is no way he can return to his former glory. Master Yan has suffered in silence, hiding in an enemy country for four years, and his achievements are yet to reveal themselves. Would they not accept exchanging an old man for the future of the Kingdom of Qing?"

Fan Xian nodded. "Who else could be added in the event that Northern Qi didn't agree?"

"That woman was Northern Qi's original demand, so His Majesty might as well allow it." Xin Qiwu looked at Fan Xian and suddenly laughed. "I hear that the Emperor of Northern Qi is very fond of that woman. Master Fan, it appears that you have already cuckolded the young Emperor."

Fan Xian's face lit up. "You mean... Si Lili?" he stuttered.

Negotiations were always split into two parts. On the surface, it appeared that the court councilors of Qing and the emissaries of Northern Qi were weighing every word on the negotiating table, attaching particular importance to every phrase and every word, and only in this way could the royal court save face and avoid ultimately losing out diplomatically. So every day, there was the endless clamoring in Honglu Temple, the pounding of tables and stomping of feet; the negotiations between two countries appeared more like an argument between two old shrews in a vegetable market.

The other part of the negotiations appeared much more cool-headed. The officials for these negotiations were not within Honglu Temple, and neither were they emissaries of Northern Qi, though they were hidden in secret - it would be accurate to say that they were the ones with real power.

Yan Ruohai, head of the Fourth Bureau of the Overwatch Council, was also a highly-regarded official among the many in the capital. He coolly signed his name to the secret agreement for the transfer of prisoners without taking a second look.

The agreement contained his son's name. He could have asked to resign from these negotiations, but he insisted that he wanted to look.

The unremarkable official from Northern Qi made his mark, smiling as he looked at Yan Ruohai. "Do not worry, Master Yan; your son is being treated well in our country."

"Today I wanted to see just how brilliant our northern colleagues are," said Yan Ruohai without emotion. "Able to capture the brat I have taught since birth. But looking at a moron like yourself, I realize how it all came about."

The official was not suddenly angered, but simply retorted coldly, "Be careful with your words, Master Yan. You know, your son is still in our custody. If we truly are morons, then what does that say about your son? Or yourself even?"

Yan Ruohai laughed bitterly, got up, and walked toward the door. "The issue is that my son was not captured by you."

He left through the door. Sitting in his wheelchair, Chen Pingping looked at him and shook his head. "You have been in this position for a long while, and yet you are unable to cope as you did before."

"I am more able to cope, but I cannot handle having arrows launched from behind my back." From the look of it, Yan Ruohai had great respect for his superior in his words. Pushing Chen Pingping's wheelchair, he unhurriedly wheeled him into a quiet place.

Chen Pingping sat in his wheelchair and extended a finger. "In the court, there are countless people who want us both dead. This time, we can exchange Xiao En for Bingyun. Next time, we will not have someone like Xiao En in our clutches."

"There will not be a next time," replied Yan Ruohai. "We need to find that person," said Chen Pingping. "This time, the Emperor is on our side, because he understands. No doubt there is some noble who wishes to teach us a lesson. But I do not like the feeling of being provoked."

"Yes, Director." Yan Ruohai knew that his old superior would find a way to deal with this situation, so he was not worried. "Although prisoner exchanges are not necessarily easy, as long as Bingyun does not die, then it can be considered a learning experience for the young man. It wouldn't be such a bad thing."

"It makes sense, so I have decided to let that young man steel himself. It must not be too long. A few months ought to do it."

"A few months? Is this not a matter for the emissaries returning to Northern Qi?"

"Correct, and we want Bingyun to return in one piece. I hope he can deal with it."

"Who?"

"Before going, I will let the eight major bureaus see him."

Everything was proceeding smoothly. After the Kingdom of Qing had played their substantial bargaining chip, the two parties secretly drew up an agreement for the exchange of prisoners. Each was satisfied. Qing had gained face and territory. Northern Qi had gained face, as well as Xiao En and the woman that their Emperor was fond of.

Only the Dongyi emissaries were left, whom everyone seemed to have quickly forgotten about. The Qing court had deliberately frozen them out so as to extort the maximum amount of money from them for the incident at the foot of the Cang Mountains. The City of Dongyi was still the biggest center of commerce in the land. They had been trading with others across the sea long before the Kingdom of Qing had opened its ports to the south. Although martially all they had was the fighting prowess of Sigu Sword, they had inexhaustible financial resources.

Three days later, the Emperor hosted dignitaries from both states at a banquet in the palace. As vice envoy, Fan Xian naturally attended the banquet. It was his second time visiting the palace, and it was the night he intended to put his plan into action.

In his room, he meticulously prepared everything he needed, occasionally glancing at the black leather box underneath his bed. With the official matters of the past few days, he looked at everything more deeply. The Kingdom of Qing seemed great and powerful, and considered itself to be unexcelled in the world. But the royal court was limited to the hidden whims of a handful of nobles, and still had its own murky depths.

The Emperor and the princes were heartless, not necessarily toward members of the royal family, but particularly toward their subjects. Fan Xian was fully aware that even if the Emperor knew who it was who wanted to handle his secret organization, he could not truly deal with it, because it could be his wife, his little sister, his son, or even his mother.

"Think only of yourself." After Fan Xian had come to this world, he had reminded himself of this countless times. The look on his face gradually turned grim, and having hid his slender dagger, he carefully inserted three poison-tipped needles into his hair.

Chapter 134: Evening Feast

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

The festivities were everywhere three days later. The giant red lanterns were hung up high as valued guests passed underneath them. Hosting the festivities was Qing, the guests Northern Qi and Dongyi. They greeted each other with smiles and walked through the tunnel towards the solemn Imperial palace. Seeing the expressions on all three sides, it was as if the war and its horrific violence never occurred at all.

The feast was set just outside the palace, in the Hall of Prayer.

The palace girls who came to prepare the plates and liquor were all very beautiful. Fan Xian, watched them busying about with a smile and raised eyebrows. The palace girls, noticing that the young and handsome Mister Fan was watching them, couldn't help but blush. They too stole glances at him from time to time.

Crowds of guests gathered, yet it was silent in the hall. On Qing's side were many major figures and some nobles Fan Xian had never seen before. Only Director Chen and the prime minister called in sick. Across from Qing sat the envoys of Northern Qi and Dongyi City.

Despite his low rank, Fan Xian was still a deputy and was made to sit with higher-ranked officials much older than him. Naturally, his placement made him feel uncomfortable. However, the old man sitting next to him said with a smile, "This feast involves many formalities, but His Majesty had always been amiable. No need to be so nervous."

The old man who just spoke was the functionary of the Board of Rites, Zhang Zigan. Because Fan Xian made an enemy out of the Director of the Board of Rites, he was secretly suspicious. But after detecting no malice from the old man's words, he replied with a smile, "Having come from a lowly village, I have never seen such grandeur. Should I step out of turn, please provide me with guidance."

Zhang Zigan stroked his beard, saying, "It has been said you made significant contributions in negotiations. For that alone, no one in the Imperial court should do anything against you, but you should be wary of those people."

The two looked over and saw Chang Ninghou of Northern Qi waiting lazily; the first table was still vacant—it should have reserved for Zhuang Mohan. And sitting at the head of Dongyi's table was a middle-aged man of massive stature. He wore a longsword on his waist. Fan Xian frowned, "How come he could come to the palace with a sword?"

"He is an exception; His Majesty personally permitted it. Under the Sigu School, the sword cannot part from its owner." Zhang Zigan explained as if talking to a descendant of his own family.

"So he's the head Sigu disciple Yun Zhilan?" Fan Xian inhaled cold air and slightly squinted his eyes as he felt a hint of killing intent from the big swordsman.

In recent days, Qing had neglected Dongyi's envoy on purpose. It appeared that this ninth-ranked swordsmaster wasn't in a good mood. While he was sitting in the Qing palace, his entire being was cold as ice.

Fan Xian was staring at Yun Zhilan's blade-like eyebrows. Coincidentally, at that moment, Yun Zhilan stared back.

Their gazes met like two bolts of lightning, splitting the atmosphere.

A short moment later, Fan Xian gave way and looked down, clearing his throat. Even Yun Zhilan's gaze was full of "swords".

For the moment, everyone in the hall had their eyes on the two. They all knew that Fan Xian killed two female Sigu disciples on Niulan Street. The reason Dongyi City sent an envoy was to take care of the matter. But most people believed that this sword master Yun Zhilan wouldn't hesitate to cut Fan Xian down.

It was fortunate for Fan Xian that the prince in the East Palace had made prior arrangements regarding the case. No one, regardless of factions, dared gloat at Fan Xian over it. With a foreign enemy in front of them, everyone from Qing stared viciously at Yun Zhilan. The atmosphere in the hall turned tense immediately.

Fan Xian was without any expressions. He secretly adjusted his zhenqi, readying himself for any moment.

At that moment, the sound of instruments could be faintly heard in the distance. Among the solemn palace music, a eunuch yelled out, "His Majesty has arrived." The one holding most authority in the world, the only master of Qing, His Majesty the emperor walked with the empress came forward. With bright smiles, they stood next to the dragon throne.

"We wish Your Majesty a very long life."

The Qing subjects all knelt down, while members of the envoys bowed. The tense atmosphere had been replaced by somberness.

The emperor sat up high, the empress next to him. The prince too had his own seat two steps below his parents. For an occasion like this, the other princes wouldn't be here. The emperor scanned his subjects and said, "You may rise."

They did, and the feast officially began. The envoy from Northern Qi went up first and sang their praises along with some recitals of the friendship between the two nations. Dongyi's Yun Zhilan came up next and expressionlessly said a few words.

The empress smiled and quietly murmured to His Majesty, "This one from Dongyi is quite haughty." This exchange couldn't not be heard by anyone else, so it was rather direct.

"He is the head disciple of Sigu Sword. If he couldn't be haughty, he probably wouldn't have to courage to swing his sword either, especially not here."

The palace girls served up food, and the various officials began to eat. None dared to say anything. His Majesty hadn't spoken yet, so all were quiet.

Fan Xian uncomfortably lowered his head and inconspicuously observed the people sitting across from him. The table which was vacant a moment ago was now occupied by an old man. Despite his age showing on his face, his eyes were clear, and his wrinkles seemed to be hiding countless wisdom. The old man wore a cloud-like white robe which hid his short stature. Without question, that must have been Zhuang Mohan.

Fan Xian hadn't seen him take a seat. "So," he reasoned, "he must have arrived with the emperor. If that was case, then the rumors must be true. The empress must favor this Zhuang Mohan, who stayed in the palace the entire time."

While Fan Xian secretly observed the old man, both the emperor and empress were observing him. The empress took a small sip of liquor and said, "That young man is Fan Xian, the future son-in-law."

His Majesty smiled, "He certainly is handsome, with a quite a reputation in poetry, not to mention today in court, where two shaoqings complimented his talents. I am most curious as to why the prince would go out of his way to establish good relations."

The empress's smile was a bit forced, "Perhaps the prince understood the importance of having good relations? Besides, Fan Xian is soon to be the prime minister's son-in-law."

"Oh, good relations?" His Majesty didn't quite smile, nor did he look at the empress. Instead, His Majesty stared at his son sitting below, "Looks like he finally gets it now."

While there was just a hint of dissatisfaction, the empress felt His Majesty was in a good mood today, since he rarely gave such a direct evaluation of the prince. She said happily, "As he grows up, he'll come to realize things."

The emperor only smiled without saying anything.

...

Only a short while after the main feast, Fan Xian was drinking nonstop. Whether it was due to his nervousness or something else, no one knew. The alcohol served was more or less the same type as yellow wine; it wasn't very strong and tasted sweet and sour. Drinking it, Fan Xian didn't feel like it was too much. But in the eyes of the various officials present, Fan Xian was drinking like a wild animal. Even Zhang Zigan had enough and warned him, "Sir Fan, you mustn't drink anymore. Should you misbehave in front of His Majesty, it would be a major crime."

Hearing he was being called "Sir Fan", Fan Xian realize he was being reminded. After all, this was not Liujing River but the most solemn Imperial palace, and he wasn't here to drink but to be a civil servant. Fan Xian smiled on the inside and adjusted his zhenqi, moving all his drunkenness onto his face. Slight confusion clouded over his eyes. He lowered his voice and said, "I'm not going to lie to you, sir, I'm actually this nervous. So it would be better for me to drink some now in order to relax."

Seeing Fan Xian's drunken state, Zhang Zigan could only smile uneasily, "The prime minister claimed to be sick, and you father also isn't here, leaving you under my care. If you really drink yourself into a mess, how am I supposed to explain?"

In the past few days, the envoy from Northern Qi were quite miserable under the hands of Honglu Temple. Seeing Fan Xian being drunk, they looked at each other and decided to take revenge. Those of the envoy all knew the reason behind Honglu Temple's viciousness, which was thanks to Fan Xian's plotting. While they didn't know exactly what it was he plotted, they hated the way Fan Xian stayed silent and only occasionally showed a plotting expression on his handsome face.

Now that the negotiations were over, regret would accomplish nothing. Chang Ninghou smiled shadily and stood up. He saluted His Emperor sitting up high, "Your Majesty, both sides had worked hard over the negotiations. May I raise a toast to the officials of Honglu Temple as a sign of friendship?"

While he spoke, the envoy from Dongyi knew what he was plotting. But they only observed and did not chose to get involved.

Perhaps it was due to them sitting up high, neither the emperor nor the empress noticed Fan Xian and therefore was unaware of Northern Qi's scheme. With a chuckle, His Majesty gave the permission. Even the prince added in, "Enemies on the court, friends off the court… although, still enemies at a feast."

The prince was merely expressing himself; he didn't know how the situation would develop. The various officials of Honglu Temple, on the other hand, became worried. They had already accepted Fan Xian as one of their own, they did not want Northern Qi to intentionally get him any drunker. But due to them sitting far away, they had no way of helping.

With a smile, Fan Xian drank with the various officials of Northern Qi. Inside, he felt uneasy. Recently, the eldest princess began making a move on Danbo Bookstore, raising the price of paper in order to lower the price on books. Such a simple two-step method made Zhang Sizhe and the shopkeeper quite dispirited. But Fan Xian knew the actual scheme was yet to come. And what he was about to do today requires the help of alcohol.

It was difficult to not get drunk, but it was even more difficult to pretend to be drunk. This was the first strong feeling since the feast began. Northern Qi's side was about done. Six of the eight members already collapsed. Finally, even Chang Ninghou no longer cared for his position and passed out still hanging onto Fan Xian's arm.

Up to now, His Majesty had been chatting with the empress and Zhuang Mohan. He smiled and said to himself, "It's been a long time since the palace was this lively."

Zhuang Mohan had been silent, only giving out the occasional reply when asked questions. He appeared to have just noticed Fan Xian who was holding up Northern Qi's Chang Ninghou. Zhuang Mohan asked, "That young sir over there, would that be Mister Fan?"

Zhuang Mohan could hardly believe his eyes. This young genius who became famous for a mere three poems turned out to be a drunkard.

His Majesty also seem to be irritated at the sight. He raised his voice and yelled out, "Fan Xian."

Everyone in the palace had been paying attention to what went on around the dragon throne in case something happened. When His Majesty spoke, the entire palace went quiet, except for Fan Xian, still yelling out "Victory! Victory!"

It seemed to be a southern thing to say; this little Sir Fan Xian really drank too much.

"Fan Xian!" Seeing how sloppy the brat became, the prince also scolded angrily. After all, Fan Xian being a deputy was the decision made by the Eastern Palace. It was the only reason why he was allowed to be here. Fan Xian embarrassing himself today wouldn't translate well for the prince.

Having detected the abnormal silence around him, Fan Xian stupidly stood still and looked around with confused eyes. But his handsome face still carried a trace of wildness.

"Who's calling my name?"

The Qing officials around were all well-acquainted with both the Fan and Lin households. Hearing what Fan Xian just said, they wanted to stuff his mouth and throw him in a carriage and send him right back to Fan manor.

To the surprise of everyone, His Majesty, hearing a reply which only should be heard in a restaurant, wasn't angry. On the contrary, he laughed and said, "It was I."

Hearing the emperor speak was enough to make anyone come to their senses, regardless of a real or a fake drunk. Fan Xian quickly bowed and apologized, "I… I deserve ten thousand deaths, I… drank too much."

He let go of Chang Ninghou who had been holding onto his arm. The official from Northern Qi collapsed onto the ground. Seeing his miserable state, the Qing officials were all quite satisfied and smiled. The only two people from Northern Qi who were not drunk quickly got Chang Ninghou back to his seat, while the palace girls came to give him a tonic to clear intoxication.

His Majesty scolded, "I know you drank too much, or else I would condemn you for misbehaving in front of the emperor."

With difficulty, Fan Xian forced himself to stay in a bowing position. He explained, "Not to excuse myself, but these guests had come from afar. If I don't show them a good time, I won't fulfill my duty as the deputy."

"Look at that," His Majesty turned to speak to the empress, "Still claiming not to excuse himself. It wouldn't be impossible for him to say I made him drink."

The empress knew the emperor held a soft spot for Princess Chen, but she didn't know if His Majesty would do the same for Fan Xian out of association. So she merely smiled, neither speaking for nor against Fan Xian.

"Fan Xian." This was the third time the emperor had called out that name. The various officials all listened closely, noticing something in His Majesty's tone. Seemed like the Fan household had some special connections with the royal family.

His Majesty said blandly, "Your household has some special connections with me. In my eyes, you're but a member of a younger generation, not a civil servant. When I speak, you should keep your sharp mouth shut! Did you think I didn't know what was said at the tavern? Young one, do you really think you could look down on everyone just because your mouth is sharp?"

It was a lecture on the surface, but there were some hidden compliments. The officials present weren't stupid and understood.

And as expected, His Majesty said lightly, "Taking advantage of this clear night near the end of summer, with both the ruler and his subjects together, Fan Xian, with your reputation in poetry, compose a poem to atone for your misbehavior."

The officials all knew His Majesty was trying to save Fan household's dignity and also take the chance to show what kind of person this eighth-ranked functionary was. However, they feared that Fan Xian would let this chance go to waste due to his drunkenness.

Fan Xian was in fact a little out of it, but he heard His Majesty's words clearly. He saluted and said, "Your Majesty, I can only compose some inferior sentences, I dare not disgrace myself in front of Mister Zhuang Mohan."

As soon as he said that, all eyes were on the old man as they realized this wasn't just letting Fan Xian show off; it was also in order to prove to Northern Qi and Dongyi that Qing also has the talent to rival Zhuang Mohan!

Fan Xian's reputation as a poet had echoed throughout the capital for months. It was only due to his reluctance to compose more did his fame die down a bit. Hearing Fan Xian bring up Zhuang Mohan, the various officials believed he and His Majesty had plotted this from the beginning to deal a blow to Northern Qi.

Actually though, Fan Xian was only guessing; his experience in his previous life was not enough to see through the emperor's intentions. However, based on the literature practices of Qing, Fan Xian believed His Majesty would not settle for being treated as a barbarian by Northern Qi.

Since this Zhuang Mohan arrived in the capital, he had been staying in the palace. Despite the empress and various Ladies admiring him, His Majesty was bound to feel unpleasant. For some reason, there were no great scholars in Qing, so a copier like Fan Xian had been pushed onto the stage.

Fan Xian knew he didn't guess wrong, for with his sharp eyesight, he was able to see His Majesty's gaze, which was deep and full of admiration.

At the same time, His Majesty was warning Fan Xian, warning him to come up with a good poem and not to lose Qing's dignity.

"Then you compose a poem and have Mister Zhuang Mohan judge it. If it's not good, then you shall drink as punishment." The empress smiled. She knew what the emperor was thinking and helped out Fan Xian.

Now that things had developed to this point, what else could Fan Xian do? He walked back to his seat, disregarding his drunkenness, and drank another cup. Tasting the sour wine, he frowned hard.

The Qing officials knew he was performing under pressure, so they counted silently. After counting to fifteen, Fan Xian's eyes flashed. With a bright smile, he went off, "In front of the wine, I sing a song. A lifetime really is not that long. Life is like the dew before the rising sun. Bygone days did not bring me much fun. You are the talented ones in your prime. I think of you all the time. For you, I am willing to bow, quietly chanting my poem up 'til now.

My distinguished guests will come for dinner.

I will entertain them with a flute, a drum, and a zither. The bright moon shines all around. But how and when can I take it down? How joyful we are to chat and eat during our reunion? I am grateful to you for your help on several occasions. The moon is so bright with a few stars around. Some crows and magpies fly southbound. They circle around the same tree thrice. Which branch do they perch for the night? No mountain is too steep and tall. No sea is too deep for my cause. Learn from Master Zhou for valuing all talents. Then people will come to my corner with enthusiasm."

Every time Fan Xian come up with a poem, it was as if he was beating someone up. As soon as the poem came out, all was quiet.

The poem he just recited out belonged to Cao Cao. Fan Xian did some editing, taking out a few verses, before chucking it out. Coincidentally, the story of Master Zhou also existed in this world, and winning over people's support happened to be in accordance to the emperor's wishes. It's just that Master Zhou actually became an emperor himself.

A long silence later, in the great palace hall, people cheered, "Fantastic poem!"

The emperor was pleased. He turned to Zhuang Mohan and asked quietly, "What does Mister Zhuang think of this poem?"

Zhuang Mohan's expression was indifferent. In his life, he had experienced such scenario countless times, and judged countless poems, which was how he came to be respected by all across the land. Even many of His Majesty's own subjects read his works. Most importantly, people looked up to his demeanor, his insight, and of course, his knowledge.

"It was a good poem." Zhuang Mohan said quietly, picking up a peanut, "A good poem indeed. There was some breakage, but its content is its strength. For poets, the intention comes first, while content is of the most importance. Fan Xian was able to achieve both. Never had I thought that Southern Qing could produce such talent."

Fan Xian smiled, he didn't feel anything special about this old scholar, but he didn't like how Zhuang Mohan had acted. He made a shallow salute and went back to his seat with staggering steps.

Some officials were still bickering among themselves regarding the poem. Under normal circumstances, it should have ended here. But today's atmosphere was strange. Someone said coldly:

"It was improper for Mister Zhuang to say 'Southern Qing'. As a great scholar known throughout the world, you were unable to see Sir Fan's abilities. There are many scholars in this country, and Sir Fan is among the best of the best. Not to mention he was able to compose within fifteen counts. I really don't know, in Northern Qi, who can accomplish the same?"

That was very inappropriate as well as disrespectful, especially at a national feast. The emperor of Qing did not expect such a literary matter progress so far. His Majesty frowned, not realizing where such insolence came from. But whoever it was, they were speaking on Qing's behalf, not committing a crime.

Fan Xian stopped in his tracks and saluted Zhuang Mohan for real this time. Zhuang Mohan coughed twice and was helped up by a young eunuch. He looked at Fan Xian calmly and said, "Young Fan's name has already spread to the Qi capital. I have often read his 'I have come five thousand kilometers to visit the sad autumn'."

Suddenly, Fan Xian noticed a hint of sadness in the old scholar's gaze, as well as a determination which seemed to cut off all paths of escape. Suddenly, Fan Xian was greatly shaken as he felt a danger he hadn't detected until now slowly approach. Despite the alcohol, he sharply turned and found that face which started it all.

Guo Baokun.

Guo Baokun, who suffered a punch from Fan Xian. Guo Baokun, the one who was close to the prince. Guo Baokun of the palace also received the right to come to the feast. But it was obvious that the prince had no idea he would say all that. Both the prince and Fan Xian squinted at Guo Baokun's somewhat prideful face, not knowing what he was up to.

Fan Xian felt danger, but he kept smiling.

Again, Zhuang Mohan coughed twice. After saluting the emperor, he said lightly, "This old man came from the great Qi, but his heart belongs to the literature of the world. I wish not to damage the friendship between the two nations, but there are certain things I must say."

His Majesty gradually calmed down. "Please go ahead."

As His Majesty spoke, the empress raised her cup. She was about to say something but stopped herself.

"In a sharp gale from the wide sky, apes are whimpering, birds are flying homeward over the clear lake and white sand, and leaves are dropping down like the spray of a waterfall, while I watch the long river always rolling on. I have come five thousand kilometers to visit the sad autumn. And with my hundred years of woe, I climb this height alone. Ill fortune has laid a bitter frost on my temples, heart-ache and weariness are a thick dust in my wine." The entire hall was absolutely silent. No one knew what shocking things this great scholar would say next.

"The first four verses of that poem was superb."

Chapter 135: Luminaries of the Ages

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

Hearing the final line, those gathered were puzzled. The poem had appeared in spring in the capital, and had spread throughout the land. Apart from the mention of the river that had made the readers uncomfortable, numerous poets had always assumed that nothing about this poem could be nitpicked. But the last four lines were the best part, and they were unsure why Zhuang Mohan felt otherwise.

"The reason the first four lines are the best," said Zhang Mohan coldly, "is not because the last four lines are not good, but because... the last four lines were not written by Master Fan!"

With these words, there was a great hubbub in the hall, which quickly turned to a deathly silence. No one said a word.

Fan Xian pretended to be stunned, but he understood many things. As things quietened down, he leant on a table, drunk, looking at Zhuang Mohan with a smile on his face.

A few months before, Lin Wan'er had said that people in the palace were saying that his poem had been copied. At the time he had taken no notice, but he had not expected today's explosive reaction. Guo Baokun had brought up this matter. Obviously, it had been incited by some noble or another.

After he came to the capital, the one thing he had to his name was his so-called literary reputation. If he had completely destroyed his own reputation, in this world which prized literature and morality, the only thing to do was to break off the engagement.

Fan Xian had felt greatly uncomfortable after Zhuang Mohan had read the first four lines. Seeing that Master Zhuang still did not know that the river was the Yangtze River, he realized that his greatest fear had still not come to fruition. If he wanted to testify to his plagiarism, Zhuang Mohan could only rely on his own scholarship and reputation to pressure people and nothing more.

But he did not know how the eldest princess had persuaded the greatly renowned Zhuang Mohan to come from so far away to act so vilely.

Some time passed. His Majesty frowned. Plagiarism was a grave denunciation, but if Zhuang Mohan had nothing to rely on, why would he dare to spread such idle gossip within the walls of the royal palace of the Kingdom of Qing?

"Baseless," said Zhang Ziqian, the assistant minister of the Ministry of Rites who had been sitting by Fan Xian's side. He smiled. "Mr. Zhuang Mohan is a great master. Many students have read his books of research on the scriptures. Throughout the land, no one would dare doubt Mr. Zhuang's words. But on this matter of plagiarism, perhaps he has been deceived by some villain."

He looked at Guo Baokun, the son of his superior. He had absolutely no fear of revealing who this villain he mentioned was.

Zhuang Mohan raised his head, a complex mood behind his wise eyes. "The last four lines of this poem were written by my old teacher travelling through Tingzhou. Because it is a posthumous work, I have had it on my mind for decades, but I do not know how Master Fan happened to come upon these lines. Things long-buried may once again see the light, and I believe this to be true. But Master Fan has built his reputation upon this, and I cannot let that pass. Scholars must cultivate their hearts and their virtue, and the poems belong to finishers. I adore the works of talented people. I am not willing to recklessly expose this matter, my reason for coming to the Kingdom of Qing was to see how the son of an official conducts himself. I did not expect that Master Fan would not know how to repent, instead acting all the more triumphant."

Fan Xian almost smiled. It was truly shameless, he thought, but the others around him did not smile at all. The atmosphere in the hall had become utterly stifling. If this was true, not only would Fan Xian no longer have face in official literary circles, all of the court of the nation would lose face.

All of the scholars of the land treasured Zhuang Mohan's essays on virtue and behavior; of this there was no doubt. Furthermore, Zhuang Mohan had said that it was written by his old master; it was tantamount to using his teacher's moral standing as proof, and who would dare doubt that?

The officials considered it confirmed that Fan Xian's poem was a copy, and fixed him with grotesque loathing glares. But this matter could not change the truth: after all, it involved the reputation of the royal court of the Kingdom of Qing, so His Majesty glared coldly at Shu Wu, Grand Secretary of the Pavilion of the Imperial Library. After a moment of awkwardness, Grand Secretary Shu stood up with some difficulty, and first paid his respects to Zhuang Mohan. "Teacher, it is an honor."

Grand Secretary Shu had once travelled to Northern Qi to study under Zhuang Mohan, and so he greeted him according to the etiquette appropriate to teachers and students. He believed that what Zhuang Mohan had said was true, that Fan Xian had copied the poem, but under the Emperor's strict gaze, he could not help but stand and speak on Fan Xian's behalf. "Teacher. Master Fan has always been a talented poet. The ballad that he performed previously was also particularly fine. If he has plagiarized, it would be hard for people to believe, and it would appear that he has no need to do so."

Zhuang Mohan had already sat down. He cleared his throat and spoke gently. "Shu Wu, could it be that you suspect that I am using my old teacher's name in vain?"

Grand Secretary Shu was dripping with sweat. He did not dare to say a word, and he could not bear the Emperor's cold stare. He withdrew with sincerity. If anyone still had their doubts at this point, it would be akin to accusing Zhuang Mohan of lacking any sense of shame as a scholar, and no one dared to assail his reputation.

But the Emperor was no ordinary scholar. He was not Concubine Shu, nor was he the Empress Dowager. He had never liked this Zhuang Mohan and so he spoke coldly. "The Kingdom of Qing attaches great importance to laws and decrees, unlike the frail and weak Kingdom of Northern Qi. If Mr. Zhuang wishes to accuse someone of a crime, then he must provide proof."

All those present could hear the anger in the Emperor's voice. If Zhuang Mohan were truly accusing Fan Xian of plagiarism, it was possible that Fan Xian could never show his face again.

Zhuang Mohan smiled, and had his attendants following behind him take out a roll of parchment. "This is a letter personally written by my teacher. If any learned person were to look upon it, they would know how old it is." He looked at Fan Xian and spoke with sympathy. "Fan Xian's poetic talent is but a pale imitation. Though I do not know the poet's inner feelings, how could Fan Xian write the last four lines of this poem considering the life experiences he has had?"

The hall was silent, save for Zhuang Mohan's aged but steady voice reciting the poem. "Ten thousand miles of sorrowful autumn, such cold? One hundred years of sickness, this was when my teacher climbed to a great height in his last days. That torrential river water, fills the eyes with desolation... Master Fan is still young, how can he have known a hundred years of sickness?"

As Zhuang Mohan continued to speak, everyone was more and more convinced that this poem could not have been written by a young man. Zhuang Mohan's voice resonated for a long while. "Many hairs of frost refers to gray hair growing everywhere. Master Fan' has a head of fine black hair. It would be hard to say that he has anything to worry about."

"As for 'frustrated, I stop drinking my murky wine'," concluded Zhuang Mohan gently, "regardless of whether Master Fan's family background is fine or frustrating, with this line 'I stop drinking my murky wine', perhaps Master Fan does not understand why my teacher said such a thing." He looked at Fan Xian, his face suggesting that he did not have the heart to say it. "In my teacher's later years, he contracted a lung disease. So he could not drink wine, and this is why he said that he 'stopped drinking'."

Having said this, the officials of the Kingdom of Qing finally lost heart. They no longer had need of that roll of parchment; with these unexplainable questions, Fan Xian's charge of plagiarism was inescapable.

At that moment, a round of applause suddenly resounded in the previously-silent hall.

Fan Xian, who had seemed to be bent over the table drunk, suddenly stood up and smiled at Zhuang Mohan. The applause slowly died down, and he felt a certain respect. Naturally, no one knew who this Mr. Zhuang's teacher was, but his opponent had successfully deduced Du Fu's circumstances from the poem. His illness really did correspond with that of the literary world's greatest master.

But Fan Xian knew that Zhuang Mohan was trying to entrap him. Perhaps the roll of parchment had been handled beforehand, and therefore he could not admire it in the end. A wild impetuousness appeared on his bright and handsome face, and he laughed drunkenly. "Mister Zhuang truly places no importance on his teacher's reputation. I do not know what could cause him to disregard the luminaries of the past."

Those around him assumed that being exposed had caused him to have a nervous breakdown. They found any more talk increasingly hard to bear, and frowned deeply. The Empress quietly instructed servants to fetch the imperial bodyguards, so as to prevent Master Fan from making a scene. To her surprise, the Emperor waved his hand dismissively, imploring everyone to listen to what Fan Xian had to say.

Fan Xian staggered forward, a mocking expression in his eyes. "Bring in the wine!" he yelled loudly.

The palace maids at the back saw his crazed expression and did not dare to approach. A cabinet minister who felt great indignance toward Fan Xian brought a wine jar weighing roughly a kilo from the back and set it down in front of Fan Xian.

"Many thanks!" Fan Xian laughed, breaking the clay seal on a wine cup and drinking from it like a whale sucking in sea water. In a short while all the wine in the jar had entered his belly. After a drunken belch, he began to feel thoroughly tipsy. He had drunken a great amount that day, and now his hasty drinking had made his face ruddy and his eyes wet and sparkling. He swayed back and forth.

He staggered toward the head table, moving as if he were doing some sort of dance. He pointed at Zhuang Mohan's nose. "Is this great master really going to carry on talking like this?"

Zhuang Mohan sniffed, and the smell of alcohol assailed his nostrils. He frowned slightly. "Young sir, it is best if you repent. There is no need to do yourself such harm."

Fan Xian looked him in the eye and smiled. "Everything has its cause and its effects," he said, his diction unclear. "Mr. Zhuang accuses me of plagiarizing his old teacher in these four lines. I don't know why I would want to copy him? Don't tell me that using that ballad from before, I could not win fame in life and in death?"

The words "fame in life and in death" were very fine, and even Zhuang Mohan felt somewhat moved. He felt an urgency, and compelled by circumstances, he was harming the good name he had held all his life. He could not bear to meticulously frame this young man, and he slowly moved his head away. "Perhaps Master Fan copied that too," he said faintly.

"Copied from whom? Could it be that the ballad I wrote was also copied? Could it be that Mr. Zhuang has studied everything on earth, and knows every single line of poetry, and is entitled to determine whether I have plagiarized?"

Seeing Zhuang Mohan's fingers lightly tapping the scroll of parchment on the table, Fan Xian laughed bitterly. "Master Zhuang, this scheme might be enough to fool a child. You say that I have plagiarized your teacher's poem, but I am baffled. If that is so, then why has this poem never been seen in this world before I wrote it?"

Zhuang Mohan seemingly did not wish to debate with him. Fan Xian spoke softly. "Sir, you say that my hair is not white, and thus I cannot speak of white temples. I am in good health, and thus this hundred years of ailments cannot be... but you are unaware, sir, that I have enjoyed making trouble all my life. I plan to start my life anew. You do not know my past, and yet you do me such an injustice. How dull."

He did not know whether he had truly drunk too much, or whether he was taking a rare opportunity to vent feelings of despair that he had had for a long time. Fan Xian's handsome and neat face had suddenly taken on a deranged expression.

"A poem is one's inner voice," said Zhuang Mohan gently, looking at him. "Fan, my young friend, this is not your past, so how can you have written such a poem?"

"A poem is literature," said Fan Xian, eyeing him coldly. "In poetry, talent is what is paid attention to. Perhaps my poem talks of worries, but who can say that one cannot turn things that one has not experienced into poetry?"

His words were extremely arrogant. He compared himself to a great talent, thereby saying that Zhuang Mohan's inference from the poem was untrue!

Hearing this, Zhuang Mohan frowned and he laughed bitterly. "Do you mean to say that you can write a beautiful poem on something that you have never encountered personally, any time, any place?" The great master did not believe it. Even if he were a great poet, there was no way he could possess such a skill.

Seeing that his opponent had fallen into his plan, Fan Xian smiled. With no thought to etiquette, he grabbed a wine cup from the table and drank it in one gulp. He looked at him, calm, his eyes intoxicated but more and more filled with burning passion. Suddenly, he waved his hand and called out.

"Bring in the paper!"

"Bring in the ink!"

"Bring in the people!"

The people in the hall were puzzled by his drunken yells, but the Emperor calmly ordered the palace maids to comply with his demands. After a moment of preparation, the hall was clear, with just a table, an ink-stone, and one person, standing alone and arrogant in the middle.

Fan Xian stood somewhat uneasily. With some difficulty, he spoke courteously to the Emperor. "Your Grace, may I borrow the services of a palace eunuch to write?"

Although the Emperor did not understand why, he nodded in approval. A eunuch scribe walked over to the table, set out a sheet of white paper, and ground down an ink stick. Unexpectedly, Fan Xian resisted his feelings of drunkenness and shook his head. "One is not enough."

"Fan Xian, what are you trying to pull?" The Crown Prince, not far from him, could not stop himself from speaking up. But the Emperor calmly acknowledged his request. A smile gradually spread across his face. It seemed that he had guessed what was about to happen.

Fan Xian smiled and looked at Zhuang Mohan. Fighting back his drunkenness, he spoke with the three eunuch scribes by his side. "I shall speak, and you shall write. If you write slowly, and cannot copy them, I cannot say them a second time."

The three eunuchs were inexplicably nervous. A number of people had guessed what Fan Xian was preparing to do. How could he get people to believe that his talent was on a par with a great master? It was not very late in the evening, and the late summer evening breeze was not even slightly cool But the atmosphere in the room gradually intensified, like the sound of a drum on a battlefield.

"Even a prairie fire cannot destroy the grass, it grows again when the spring breeze blows... the many flowers will gradually grow to dazzle men's eyes, sprouting where horses' hooves have not trod... even heaven and earth have their endings, the regret of our parting will last forever and never end."

With no warning, and no mulling over the issue, Fan Xian had blurted out a section of work entirely by Bai Juyi in no time at all. And then there were ten more verses. He stood by the table, looking at the night sky outside the palace hall, reciting without ceasing this famous poem that he had strangely committed to memory. The eunuch scribes brandished their pens and scribbled rapidly, almost unable to keep up with him.

The onlookers were silent, savoring the words.

Facing an unceasing torrent of plots and plans, under enormous pressure, he had finally exploded. In his madness, he cared only about reciting this poem he had memorized, completely uncaring whether the eunuchs had remembered it or whether the observers could understand him. Profound and eloquent words from his previous life came through his thin lips, sounding in the palace hall of the Kingdom of Qing.

Zhuang Mohan's expression gradually changed to one of amazement.

And once the people began to simply enjoy watching the spectacle, he could not help but mutter to himself that these poems had nothing in them that anyone had heard before, but they were truly brilliant verses. Could it be... that they were all written by Master Fan?

"Evening arrives, the sky wanting to snow, no matter what, may we drink a cup..." this was Bai Juyi's drinking.

"Do you not see, my lord..." next it was Li Bai's turn to drink.

"The shadow becomes three persons..." this was Li Bai, still drinking.

"But only the host can get the guest to drink..." still this was Li Bai, drinking.

"The yesterday that abandoned me cannot be retained; the today that leaves my heart in disarray causes me great worry..." this was Li Bai, already drunk.

The people in the hall thought of the gentleman's previous breach of etiquette, and gradually sat gathered around Fan Xian. Hearing the poem he recited, their faces were filled with astonishment and disbelief. Everyone was listening to the poem. There were quite a number of geniuses in the world, but since ancient times, there had never been anything resembling such a scene as this.

They had seen poems being written, but not like this! Writing a poem was not like selling cabbage at a vegetable market - but countless verses spilled forth from Fan Xian's mouth without him even having to think about it. How could it be different to selling cabbage?

Although there were some odd phrases in the poem, that was because the people gathered knew nothing of the classics of that world. They were dumbstruck. These verses... every single one was a masterpiece!

Fan Xian still had yet to finish. The gathered officials looked at Fan Xian, whose expression was becoming monstrous. They felt like this handsome young man was not of this world, and was a celestial being reborn in this life. Filled with shock, the three eunuch scribes who had leant their labor to the sober-headed Grand Secretary began to engross themselves in the verses that fell from his mouth and passed on. Young Master Fan had said that he would not repeat them.

Fan Xian had no idea what he looked like. His eyes remained closed, his brain turning rapidly, recalling these verses while he thought of his next move. If he had let the officials know that he currently had the leisure to think of other things, perhaps they would be even more astonished.

He felt a little bit thirsty, and so he stretched his hand out to the side, where the Grand Secretary was discreetly holding some wine. He placed it carefully into his hand, so as not to disturb his concentration.

From the lords of the Book of Songs, to the mute horses of Gong Zishen, to the bright moonlight of the Tang dynasty, the spring rivers of the Song dynasty, Du Fu's greenhouse, Su Dongpo cooking Huangzhou fish, Du Mu visiting a prostitute, Liu Yong also visiting a prostitute, Yuan Zhen crossing a vast ocean to live with his mistress, Li Qingzhao with her harp and her inexplicable thoughts of beautiful times, Ouyang Xiu's fierce love for his niece (this was an unresolved miscarriage of justice).

Fan Xian closed his eyes, took a sip of wine, "wrote" a poem, he finished three cups and had produced three hundred poems!

In the wide hall, countless points of light and shadow seemed to flutter, gradually congealing into a scene that only he could see behind his closed eyes. It was the poets of his previous world, old handsome men and young handsome men, singing effortlessly beneath the bamboo. A bare stomach on the bed, with the fast winds of the pavilion, the sad tears shed on the riverside.

This was all from his previous world, all that Fan Xian had from his previous world, and in its sudden way, it had abruptly descended on the world of the Kingdom of Qing, assailing men's hearts. With the help of all the outstanding poets throughout eternity, Fan Xian struggled against Zhuang Mohan.

He suddenly opened his eyes. He looked at Zhuang Mohan coldly, like he was looking at another world from a distance.

"Do you not see, my lord, how the yellow river's waters wind their way toward Heaven?" Who could be more unconstrained than Li Bai?

"Waves crash and cleanse heroes of ages past." Who could be more bold than Su Dongpo?

"Last night the rains were thin and the winds sudden, although I fell into a deep sleep my drunkenness had not abated." Who could be more graceful than Li Qingzhao?

Who could rival the strength of luminaries of ages past all in one person?

With a loud clatter, Zhuang Mohan's trembling hand finally lost its grip on his wine cup, and it fell to the bluestone floor, smashing into countless pieces.

Silence. A moment of silence.

Some unknowable amount of time later, Fan Xian finally stopped his mad performance. But the people in the palace hall of the Kingdom of Qing could not escape from this state of mind. The scholars and the eunuch scribes were the first to awake from it. They slumped down on the floor, rubbing their aching hands, staring at Fan Xian as if he were some kind of supernatural entity.

Fan Xian was drunk. He swayed as he walked toward Zhuang Mohan, and extended a finger pointing at his nose, wagged it, and after a drunken belch, he spoke quietly.

"In commentary and interpretation, I am inferior to you. In writing such things... you are inferior to me."

The hall was still silent, so though he had said it quietly, everyone heard it clearly. The officials now believed his words entirely. They prostrated themselves in admiration of young Master Fan's poetic talent; regardless of Zhuang Mohan's great prestige, when it came to poetry and literature, every single person who had listened to Fan Xian's "recitation" of the 300 ancient poems could never believe that anyone could ever match Fan Xian's poetic talent.

Now no one wanted to bring up the matter of plagiarism. Everyone believed what Fan Xian had said, this so-called genius could write staggeringly incredible poetry about things he had never experienced. What was that? It was the work of an immortal of poetry! Plagiarism? What plagiarism?

Since no one believed that Fan Xian's poetic talent could have been copied from anyone, it was clear that Zhuang Mohan was lying. As they looked at Zhuang Mohan, they could not hide their disappointment, their pity, and their disdain. This great master, who had enjoyed a stellar reputation all his life, had suddenly found himself lacking in virtue in old age as he waged war on the young.

Zhuang Mohan looked at Fan Xian as if he were a monster. There was sadness in his eyes, and inexplicably, he felt a sudden melancholy in the pit of his stomach. He covered his mouth with his white sleeve as he spat blood.

His Majesty's face wore a smile that was not quite a smile as he looked at Fan Xian. "Why do you not show such talent every day?"

Fan Xian seemed drunk but was not drunk. He met the Emperor's gaze. "Poetry and literature are things for cultivating the mind, not a skill for struggling ferociously."

The words were a little shameless; had he not seen this evening as a ferocious struggle? Fan Xian finally could not hide his drunken discontent. He fell buttocks-first to the ground before the Emperor, squinting his eyes at Zhuang Mohan's trembling lips. "I'm tired and I want to sleep," he mumbled. "And screw you."

Finally finishing Li Bai's final pose, Fan Xian fell into drunken dreams at the Emperor's feet.

Chapter 136: Intentions of Entering the Palace While Drunk

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

That night was destined to be like no ordinary night.

After Fan Xian had given his immortal wild poetic performance, the master Zhuang Mohan had left saddened. His Majesty clearly wished to cultivate and educate the son of the Fan family. The Crown Prince's position was secure. So much had happened that night, so whether it was the emissaries from Dongyi, or the other officials, after returning home, they all discussed with their aides or colleagues what they had seen. But what had shocked everyone and caused the most discussion was of course the performance of the eighth-level functionary Fan Xian in the palace hall that night.

The common consensus that was finally reached was that young Master Fan was an immortal of poetry.

Any who had doubted whether Fan Xian was the true author of those verses had their suspicions roundly removed that night. Because after all, the context of the poems differed, as did their sentiments. If one were to go back and forth between such discrepantly intense moods all in one night, then naturally one could fear that such a poet were mad.

But regardless, everyone still believed that Fan Xian was no ordinary person. It was nonsensical. What ordinary man could spit forth such amazing poetry as if he were a seller at a vegetable market? Even if he took no notice of his tiredness, it was truly something to behold.

In short, every work of exquisite poetry - whether beautiful or intense or melancholy - that existed in a world similar to the one where the Kingdom of Qing existed had unwillingly or willingly fallen from Fan Xian's lips. From that moment on, they had become a part of the spirit of that world and could not break away from it.

Within those poems were a number of literary allusions that were not clear, or parts that could not be understood; they were all taken by people to be a result of Fan Xian's drunken unintelligibility, and they prepared for him to explain them further once he had awoken from his intoxicated stupor. As for whether Fan Xian would - in order to justify his lies - have to invent a fictional history of China, write the Four Classic Novels of Chinese literature, or castrate himself to avoid inconvenience, that was for another time. [1]

In the carriage back to Fan Manor, Fan Xian was still in a deep drunken sleep. Afterwards, some busybody calculated for him that that night in the palace, regardless of how many poems he had composed, he had drunk no less than four and a half kilos of the Emperor's finest wine. So while he was composing the poems that would win him the infatuation of all the scholars in the land, he was utterly blacked out.

He had been lifted from the Emperor's feet and carried out of the palace by a eunuch, absolutely stinking of wine, grumbling incoherently, and thankfully had not fainted while all those presents regarded him as a supernatural being.

As he got into a carriage from Fan Manor, the palace eunuchs warned the servants of Fan Manor to look after their master. His brain was the prized possession of the Kingdom of Qing, the old men joked, they could not allow him to injure it.

When the carriage arrived at Fan Manor, news had arrived of the young master's great triumph at the palace, and the blow he had dealt to Zhuang Mohan. The whole house shared in his glory. A servant happily carried him from the carriage on his back, with Lady Liu personally clearing the way, taking him to his room, and going to the kitchen to cook some soup to sober him up. Fan Ruoruo worried that the servant girls were not attentive enough, and carefully wrung out a washcloth to moisten his dry lips.

Fan Sizhe, woken by the noise, rubbed his sore eyes and looked at his blackout-drunk brother with a mixture of envy and admiration. Count Sinan smiled as he wrote in his study. The look of fatherly pride on their master's face was clear even to his uncultured servants. He thought about what he should write in the folding notebook he was going to give to His Majesty. He figured that His Majesty would not be surprised by the things that had happened to Fan Xian; after all, he was a child of the tianmai.

After a burst of excitement that lingered into the night, everyone gradually dissipated, not daring to disturb Fan Xian's drunken dreams. At that moment, his eyes opened quickly. "My belt," he said to his sister, standing watch by his bedside. "Light green pill."

Seeing that he was awake, Ruoruo did not have time to ask. She quickly retreived the pill from his belt and put it in his mouth.

Fan Xian closed his eyes for a long while and slowly circulated his zhenqi, finding that the pill really was quite effective in counteracting the effects of the alcohol. The uneasy feeling had already disappeared from his belly, and his mind was absolutely sober. Of course, he was not really drunk. During his earlier "recitation" at the palace, when he had recited those ancient writers' works just as they had, that was his own brilliance.

"I was worried whether someone would come to see me in the middle of the night. After all, right now I should so drunk that being awake would be impossible." As he put on his clothes with his sister's help, he frowned while he pondered. His eyes were completely clear, the alcohol at the palace having taken no effect.

"They probably won't. I told them that I would look after you myself." Fan Ruoruo, knowing what he was about to do, could not help but feel anxious.

"Lady Liu..." Fan Xian frowned. "Will she come to look after me?"

"I'm here on the lookout. Nobody should be coming." Fan Ruoruo looked at him nervously and spoke in a low voice. "But you had best be quick, brother."

Fan Xian felt for the dagger hidden in his boot, the three needles in his hair, and the pills on his waist. Confirming that he was completely prepared, he nodded his head. "I'll be as quick as I can."

He left the back of the manor, going through the residence that was being prepared for his marriage. He had put on clothes made for moving around at night, and under the cover of darkness he was very difficult to see. Only when he moved, his body swiftly travelling through the darkness, was there the slight sense of the presence of some sort of demon. Moving through a prepared hole in the wall, there was a carriage already waiting outside.

A slight frown showed through the black cloth that bordered Fan Xian's eyes. Although there was no night curfew in the capital, the streets were still strictly guarded at night. After the incident at Niulan Street, the city guards had been considerably whipped into shape, so now he had to take serious precautions. So he temporarily gave up the idea of taking a carriage. His body trembling, he routed his zhenqi through his whole body, quickly accelerating his speed as he disappeared into the darkness of the capital.

Fan Manor was not far from the palace, and Fan Xian quite quickly reached the foot of the palace's western wall. This was a place where the part-time workers in the palace came into contact with the inner keep. It was often quite busy, but this late at night, it was silent. Shielding himself behind shrubbery, he crouched as he leapt towards the bank of the Yudai River. With his left hand, he felt for the stone railing by the side of the riverbank, and like a koala, he sidled along it.

There were some bright lights ahead of him, but the river itself appeared completely dark. Fan Xian did not dare to lose focus. Using the deep wellspring of zhenqi in his body, he stopped his breathing, and carefully moved his body along.

Some time later, he had finally bypassed the two arch bridges, and had come to a secluded grove of trees within the palace. Fan Xian relaxed slightly, opening his mouth to take hurried breaths. He could feel his body becoming gradually more excited, as if these dangerous maneuvers brought him some kind of pleasure.

The wall by the side of the thicket of trees was 16 meters tall and extremely slippery; there was nowhere one could hold on to. Even the strongest warriors in the land could not vault it. Of course, to those who had already approached the rank of grandmaster, whether they could make use of this wall was a matter of waiting to be tested.

Fan Xian was not one of the four grandmasters, but he had other ways. The red surface of the wall looked slightly blue in the dark of night. Like a shadow, he swept from the trees to the wall, finding a dark gap that the light from the palace lanterns did not touch, and forcibly calming his mind, he sat cross-legged. He gradually channeled his powerful zhenqi through his xueshan point, warming it and adjusting the conditions within his body. Deep in the palace, not far from Hanguang Hall, Hong Sixiang sat quietly in a room. The Empress Dowager's health was not good. Hearing the amusing things that had happened at the palace banquet, of how Fan Xian had caused Zhuang Mohan to spit blood, the Empress Dowager could not stop herself from laughing, but she didn't know why. It seemed that some of the old men were sorrowful, so they had gone to bed early.

Hong Sixiang had spent years within the palace. The young eunuchs did not know how old he really was - seventy? Eighty? His only responsibility in the place now was to keep the Empress Dowager company. He had been there since the founding of the Kingdom of Qing. When he was young, he still liked to leave the palace and wander around, but as he got older, he found that there was not much difference between the inside and the outside of the palace after all.

Hong Sixiang took a shelled peanut, put it in his mouth, and chewed it loudly. Then he took hold of a wine cup and had a long, satisfying sip from it. The oil lamp on the table gave off a weak light. The old eunuch thought about young Master Fan's drunken madness in the palace hall, and he could not prevent a smile from forming on the corners of his lips. Even if he was a eunuch, he was still a eunuch of the Kingdom of Qing; if Northern Qi could be embarrassed, then Eunuch Hong felt that it was not a bad thing.

In another part of the inner palace, there was a bright candle lit in the Emperor's study. It was naturally much brighter than the light in the eunuchs' room. The Emperor was an enlightened ruler who loved his subjects and was politically diligent, and so he would often read long into the night. The eunuchs had long become accustomed to it, and warmed up some midnight snacks for him, awaiting his summons at any time.

It was late in the night after the palace banquet, and the Emperor was still diligent. He sat at a desk, a writing-brush in his hand, its tip freshly moistened, like a dagger waiting to kill a man in silence. Suddenly, the tip of his writing-brush halted above the paper in front of him, and his brow gradually turned to a frown. "Are you tired, Your Majesty?" asked one of the eunuch scribes by his side. "Perhaps you should rest?"

The Emperor smiled as he rebuked him. "How did your hand not break copying all those poems in the palace hall this evening?"

The eunuch pursed his lips into a smile. "I would eagerly copy poems slavishly every day for such a genius of poetry."

The Emperor laughed and said nothing more. He simply glanced out of the window now and again, feeling like there was something strange about the dark night.

The palace was large, in the summer evening it was quiet. The palace maids closed their eyes, but found it hard to sleep for long. The guards outside the walls kept careful watch. All was peaceful within the palace.

At the corner, by the side of the rock garden, wearing brand new dark clothes, Wu Zhu dissolved into the dim light of night. The only part of him that could have been noticed by anyone, his eyes, was also covered by a length of black cloth. With the help of some sort of technique, his whole body had become like the inanimate things around him.

His breathing and heartbeat had slowed significantly, and he moved in harmony with the gentle night wind surrounding him. Even if someone had walked past him, they were unlikely to have seen him were they not looking carefully.

Wu Zhu "looked" at the light coming from the Emperor's study. He didn't know how long he looked. Then he slowly lowered his head, pulled over his black head covering, and silently headed in a direction away from the palace. His path remarkably avoided all light. Going with the terrain, along the grass and the flowers, he left no trace and made no sound. Like a terrifying demon, he walked casually around the strictly guarded inner palace.

[1] In Jin Yong's novel The Smiling, Proud Wanderer, the character Yue Buqun castrates himself in order to study the technique of Bixie Swordplay.

Chapter 137: Eunuch Hong

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

The oil lamp in the room suddenly spattered. It was a good omen, but a frown crawled across Hong Sixiang's gray eyebrows. He seemed displeased. His wrinkled right hand firmly gripped the chopsticks he was using to grasp deep-fried shelled peanuts. With little movement, he slowly swallowed the peanut mush in his mouth, savoring their taste. He took another sip from his wine cup, and stood up.

"For many years, no one has wandered within the palace walls." Eunuch Hong's eyes were muddied, and he looked dispassionately out the window as he spoke in a low voice, his finger softly twitching.

The door was open.

Like two strong arrows, the chopsticks in Eunuch Hong's hands were thrown, filled with zhenqi. There were two whooshing noises. In a flash, the window broke, and they shot directly at the dark corner where Wu Zhu's face was!

The chopsticks whooshed as they travelled through the air with shocking momentum. If anyone had been hit by one of them, it would have been like being hit with an arrow. For Eunuch Hong's subtle snap of his fingers to be so powerful was truly terrifying.

For some reason, Wu Zhu's reflexes were slower than normal. Unable to turn in time, the chopstick tore the fabric on his right shoulder.

Whoosh! The chopstick stuck in the muddy ground at an angle, the tail end quivering slightly.

Outside the pavilion, old Eunuch Hong looked at the visitor wearing gray. His brow trembled. His opponent's face was completely covered. There was no way he could see who it was. "Who are you?" There was a smile on Eunuch Hong's face. It seemed like this trespasser was a mere servant, but it was very clear that he was much more formidable than he appeared.

The clothes Wu Zhu was wearing that night were completely new, so he felt somewhat strange. He followed Fan Xian's plan, raising his head, seemingly "gazing" at his opponent. "Apologies. I am mistaken," he hissed.

"Mistaken? You mean you are lost?" Eunuch Hong laughed. "Good sir, you would be the first person to have become so lost that you have wandered into the palace. You have been here once before, five days ago. I have been waiting for you. I am very curious as to who you are. I think, save for a few old friends, no one else would be so bold."

Wu Zhu forcibly added a note of worried urgency to his voice, but he was no good at hiding his mood, so he appeared somewhat false. "I am a prisoner of this country. I had no choice but to enter. It is not convenient for me to salute you showing my true face. I ask that you forgive me, elder sir."

Old Eunuch Hong frowned, no longer amused. This person believed he belonged to the younger generation. This was nothing more than an apprentice of those old freaks. Looking at his skill, he was at least at the ninth-level, if he had been able to infiltrate the palace without being discovered. But his voice was clearly deliberately distorted by the muscles of his throat, so there was no way he could find out any useful information from his voice.

"This is the royal palace, my child." Old Eunuch Hong sighed. "Do you mean to tell me that you come and go as you please?"

Having said this, he opened his right hand, and his whole body began to glide along the floor, suddenly arriving in front of Wu Zhu. He moved his thin and wizened hand toward Wu Zhu's face.

Wu Zhu's face, hidden behind the length of black cloth, was without expression, but he knew that his opponent had misestimated his power. Now he had the chance to kill him - should he? In the past, this would not have been a question for Wu Zhu, but tonight, it was.

He thought quickly, and made a decision. Even if he killed him now, he would probably pay some sort of price. The key thing was that this might alert the palace guards, which would cause Fan Xian great difficulty in his ongoing operation.

So he took a step back, bent his knees, and lifted his elbows. Beneath his elbow was a thoroughly ordinary stainless steel sword. Skillfully plunging it into old Eunuch Hong in an armlock was the plan. More important was the intention behind it, which could make the person at its point suddenly lose all propriety.

But Eunuch Hong was no ordinary person. He laughed darkly and scolded sharply. "Evading the subject?" There was a hint of astonishment in his voice, but he was quick to take action. With the swiftness of a dragon, his left hand flew out of his sleeve and aimed toward Wu Zhu's chest. The blow flew with the wind, landing with great force. This was the greatest technique in the entire world.

Wu Zhu took another step back, straightening his knees and elbows.

He drew the greenish-black blade across his body, as if he were cutting his own throat, but he just managed to protect his chest, blocking Eunuch Hong's wizened palm strike.

"Overly cautious?" Eunuch Hong's voice sharpened. He retracted his palm, and from his waist upward, his whole body began to tremble. It looked very strange. With a groan, the old eunuch changed the zhenqi he had been cultivating for decades into countless streams of air, spurting forwards, trying to bind Wu Zhu.

Wu Zhu did not give him the chance, and coolly took two further steps backward. These two steps seemed simple, but moving so casually, in a flash – in the face of such a high-level grandmaster – he just managed to avoid a powerful qi attack. He had clearly been disturbed by Eunuch Hong's decades of powerful zhenqi, and seemed in something of a difficult situation.

Eunuch Hong's frown deepened. "Do not presume that you may deceive people by changing the direction of the blade," he said coldly, looking at him. "Since I have taken a liking to you, you may stay here in this forbidden palace."

Wu Zhu lifted his head slightly to "look" at him. He did not know quite how he felt. His next step was to cup his hands in salute.

Old Eunuch Hong frowned in astonishment! With a rustling sound, Wu Zhu turned his body away. As if Eunuch Hong were not there behind him, he put his sword on his back, and ran toward the direction of the palace walls, his whole body moving quickly, trampling the grass into dust.

Placing his blade on his back was a simple move, but it was wonderful protection.

"Minding the rear?" A sudden gloom appeared in Eunuch Hong's eyes. He did not call for the palace guards. He shook his arms, and his whole body rocketed upward like a weak-chested, wide-winged blackbird.

A moment later, the two men were high up on the palace wall. Eunuch Hong looked coldly at the man in dark clothing in front of him. He wanted to see just how he would manage to vault over the wall.

Wu Zhu immediately rushed down to the bottom of the palace wall without losing speed, his right foot trampling ferociously on the stones at the bottom of the palace wall. The stones suddenly sank into the mud, and from this one could see that there was great strength behind these feet. And the forward-moving quickness of his whole body had been transformed into an upward force by this shock; his whole body flew upwards with force, following the palace wall in the gloomy night, floating upward like some kind of demon.

He had leapt ten meters in a single bound, and his momentum was sure to dissipate. With a whooshing noise, the ordinary blade in his hand was, for some reason, suddenly stuck deeply into the palace wall. Using the strength of the sword, he freed himself, and then like a stone, he launched off the high wall!

Eunuch Hong groaned, realizing that his opponent had planned all of it. The zhenqi in his body was swiftly released, and he floated up toward the palace wall, his posture elegant, all on a wave of zhenqi. Compared to Wu Zhu's ruthlessness, it seemed much more confident and at ease.

Leaping ten meters, the sallow old eunuch gently extended a finger, pressing on the hole Wu Zhu had left with his sword. With another burst of strength he rose upward, launching off the palace wall like a giant bird in the night, evading its glossy outer surface and slowly floating downward.

As he floated downward, his eyes like a hawk, unwaveringly scanning the night city scene, the incomparably quick forward-moving grey shadow laughed darkly, quietly floating over the tips of the trees, floating over houses, and he followed him.

The two top-class warriors pit themselves against each other without making a single sound, so the palace guards did not notice a thing.

Fan Xian sat in the darkness beneath the palace walls like a rat. He cocked his head slightly to listen out for a faint sound, stood up, and softly brushed the grass and dirt from his buttocks. He pressed his fingers into the glossy surface of the wall.

His body was not as valiant as Wu Zhu, and he did not have the deep neigong cultivation of old Eunuch Hong. But his zhenqi circulation technique was different from any warrior in the world. He had even managed to climb up the moss-covered overhanging cliffs outside Danzhou, not to mention this palace wall.

This was what Fan Xian relied on most. His whole body like a flightless bat, he slowly climbed up the palace wall. Although he was slow, he was steady. There was no way he could fall.

If it had suddenly turned to day, and someone was looking from a distance, they would find that there was a sudden, ugly, black spot on the vermilion wall.

Vaulting over the wall, carefully avoiding any possible hidden guards, Fan Xian's feet finally stepped safely onto the grass inside the palace. As he had sat in meditation outside the palace wall, he had gone over his map of the palace in his mind. Now he stood within the palace, looking at the enormous complex under the curtain of night, listening to the faint sound of drums in the distance. He felt slightly nervous, and somewhat excited.

The map seemed to have formed a clearly visible passage. After steadying his breath one last time, he merged into the darkness of the palace. Not only did he not make a sound, but his velocity did not slow even slightly. Relying entirely on the map in his memory, using the cover of the shrubbery and rock gardens, he made his way toward his goal. His method was very similar to Wu Zhu, but also had some subtle differences. After all, his ability for planning was still not like Wu Zhu's.

Deep in the night, most of the people within the place were asleep.

Fan Xian hid in the darkness in Hanguang Hall, confirming that there were no expert guards inside. The real armed guards seemed to all be in the front hall and the corners. This realization made him frown slightly. The security of the royal palace was rather weak; it was dangerous indeed. If Northern Qi were to send expert fighters to infiltrate the place, what would he do?

To worry about the nation and the people as a thief breaking into the forbidden palace at night, Fan Xian was remarkable indeed. But he was perhaps thinking about things too much. He knew that in this world, to be able to leap over a fifteen meter wall without alerting the guards was a feat that only a few of the world's most talented people could accomplish. If such a grandmaster were to come here, ordinary bodyguards would seem to be of no use whatsoever.

He had forgotten that he was the only person who had the skills of Spiderman.

Chapter 138: There Is a Key in Everyone's Heart

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

Five days prior, Wu Zhu entered the palace for the last time and confirmed that the key was hidden somewhere in Hanguang Hall. Therefore, it was the first location Fan Xian investigated. Perhaps because of the long period of peace, Hanguang Hall, which was inhabited by the empress, was quiet and tranquil. The palace girls were all asleep, and the young eunuchs were starting to get drowsy.

A faint fragrance wafted by. Whether eunuch or palace girl, they all drifted off into a deep slumber.

In the dim light, Fan Xian walked along the dark corners and entered the empress's sleeping quarter. Seeing the extraordinarily elegant bed in the distance, he frowned slightly. On the bed lay an old lady; could that be the empress?

There wasn't much for Fan Xian to exclaim, nor would he humor his own delusion of doing something which might change history. He walked forward calmly to the side of the bed. He was not even looking at the most powerful woman in the world.

Keep calm. That was the most important thing that Wu Zhu and Fei Jie had taught him.

The imagined hidden guard did not appear. Fan Xian was prepared for some unseen master lying in wait to protect the royalty.

He didn't think too much about where in Hanguang Hall tone could hide valuables. He slid under the empress's bed without much hesitation. He closed his eyes and began to touch the wooden floor beneath the bed. The floorboards were made from high quality timber, but his current actions were strange.

A short while later, he opened his eyes in the darkness. There was a glint of absurd joy in his pupils.

Back in Danzhou, he had hidden his nameless skill-book under his bed boards; in The Deer and the Cauldron, Mao Dongzhu hid forty-two scriptures under the darkness of her bed. As it turned out, the empress of Qing followed suit.

The current situation showed the limits of human creativity and imagination.

Putting just a little force into his dagger, Fan Xian dug the blade in from the side. The tip made no sound as it pierced the wood. The empress turned and said something in her sleep, but Fan Xian pretended not to hear and continued expressionlessly. Soon, the lattice came off, although he dared not to disturb it with his hand. With his superhuman night-vision, he was easily able to see it.

There was only a white cloth, a letter, and… a key.

Looking at the shape of the key, Fan Xian frowned slightly, making a strange expression. Ignoring the white cloth and the letter, he took the key and slipped out.

Moments later, he appeared again under the palace walls.

He climbed into the carriage. Looking at Wang Qinian, he said lightly, "I need speed."

"Yes sir." Wang Qinian didn't know the details of the plan. He only knew that he had to pick up Fan Xian, and then go meet the "other person".

"I hope nobody knows I'm in this carriage."

"Sir, rest assured. This carriage was borrowed from the Privy Council. No one would dare to stop it, so no one will find out."

"Very good." Relaxing a little, Fan Xian half-sat down. First, he had pretended to be a drunken, poetic maniac, and then he was snaking into the palace at night. Both were severely taxing to his mind.

The carriage stopped somewhere Fan Xian did not recognize. The two silently got out. Putting on their headcovers again, they walked down to a chamber underground. Wang Qinian said in a muffled voice, "Sir, this is the locksmith Suo Jiang."

Standing in front of them was a small wooden table. On it were many unrecognizable metal tools gleaming under the light. The owner of the tools appeared to be an honest, middle-aged man. His face was dark tan and he had a hearty smile.

Locksmith was a profession, and it was also a title. But this Suo Jian didn't just stop there—"Suo Jiang" literally meant "locksmith". From his name alone, one could see his level of craftsmanship.

Fan Xian nodded and said to Wang Qinian, "Wait outside."

And so, Wang Qinian excused himself. He knew that there were things he would never know, and not knowing would ensure his safety.

"This involves the survival of the nation. By the authority of the Overwatch Council, I ask you to serve your country." Fan Xian said calmly through his headcover.

That gave the locksmith quite a shock. Thinking about the foreign envoys in the capital, Suo Jian believed he had guessed something and hurriedly saluted, not knowing what he was about to do.

"You must be quick and precise." Fan Xian took out the key. "I want an exact replica."

The locksmith took the key and examined it closely. "There are no locks in the world that this key would open."

"I don't care. I only want you to make a copy of it. Can you do it or not?"

"It will be very difficult. This key is extremely complex. Even if I make an exact copy in appearance, I can't guarantee that it will open the corresponding lock."

"Very good. Begin." Fan Xian was happy at the reply, but his voice was still calm.

The locksmith began to nervously replicate the key. The sound of metal scraping could occasionally be heard in the room. Fan Xian was nervous too as he looked at the door; he didn't know how long Wu Zhu could keep Eunuch Hong occupied. Eunuch Hong's living quarters were too close to Hanguang Hall. If Eunuch Hong returned, it would be difficult for Fan Xian to put back the duplicate key.

Finally, sweating, Suo Jiang finished. Comparing the two keys, Fan Xian discovered the two to be completely identical, replicated down to the last bit of rust. Finally relaxed, he smiled. "What do you really do for a living?"

Because his face was covered by black cloth, his smile looked odd.

"I… am a thief." Suo Jiang admitted, sweating profusely. He didn't know what fate awaited him now that he had finished this top-secret job.

"So, he's a thief," Fan Xian thought. Squinting at the tools and key pattern on the table, he frowned. He then walked over and crushed the pattern to bits with a powerful burst of zhenqi.

Even the tools he had left for Wang Qinian were destroyed. Suo Jiang was sent off to the southern regions in order to keep away from potential trouble. Only then did Fan Xian put his mind to rest and go back to the palace.

Entering Hanguang Hall again, the sleep-inducing fragrance had begun to disperse. The night breeze was still blowing; the palace resonated with a peaceful atmosphere. Fan Xian slipped under the empress's bed like a ghost. He put back the replicate key, and resealed the floor board with the glue he brought. Finally, he silently slipped out of the palace.

It had been some time since the last drum sounded. Fan Xian knew it was time for him to leave. At that moment, a small courtyard next to the palace caught his attention. That courtyard was Guangxin Palace, where the eldest princess resided.

Fan Xian's plan and execution of it had been perfect today. If he didn't want unnecessary complications, he should leave now and wait for things to develop. However, for some reason—probably drunk at his success of having obtained the key—he did the unexpected.

Fan Xian believed that, under the cover of darkness, he could walk freely, even in the solemn palace. He proceeded down the hallway, relying completely on the night traveling skills he learned from Wu Zhu and Fei Jie. With great difficulty, he approached Guangxin Palace, even brushing shoulders with a yawning palace girl.

The palace was still lit, and there were people inside. Guangxin Palace was different from other palaces in the complex. It was surrounded by a wall of its own.

As they say, those who cross rivers aren't afraid of a dirty moat. But Fan Xian knew many master martial artists had been killed because of such assumptions. So, he carefully took a detour to the back and climbed up a thick pillar.

With his palms adhering to the smooth pillar, Fan Xian felt somewhat irritated, probably from exerting himself too much today. Climbing the pillar proved to be difficult, but he managed. Carefully scaling onto the roof, Fan Xian dared not lift up any roof tiles. Instead, he started looking for transparent glass tiles.

Normally, one would not find glass tiles on the roof of a palace, but it possibly because of Fan Xian's great luck, Eldest Princess happened to enjoy having sunlight shine from above during the day. Fan Xian managed to find one such tile. He knelt down, making sure his every movement was steady and silent.

The room under the glass tile was dimly lit, but Fan Xian was able to see and hear clearly thanks to his amazing senses. He squinted, and he knew he had guessed right. His luck was indeed great.

...

Eldest Princess Li Yunrui sat reclining with a lazy look on her face, looking exceptionally charming. She only wore a white night gown. Under the thin fabric, the outline of her body could be seen. There was a hint of youth in its maturity. If any man were to see this, he would probably bow down to worship her feet.

As His Majesty's younger sister, she had no need to use sex appeal to lure people. Besides, the one sitting in front of her was around seventy years old. He was the greatest scholar in the world. He was not one who would be tempted by such things.

Zhuang Mohan coughed twice, "My business here is finished. I hope you do not mind, Princess.

Eldest Princess played around with her fake scroll, which was made from gold. Suddenly, she beamed a huge smile and said softly, "Master Zhuang, I want you to stomp that Fan Xian into the ground so hard he no longer has the dignity to stay in the capital. Can you do that?"