ATEG 108.1

A tiny gap must be seized; a tiny gain must be obtained. Lesser yin, lesser yang.

Liang Kingdom, Shezhou City.

This was one of the most prosperous places within the Liang Kingdom, and also one of the few cities closest to the Liang capital, forming a protective encirclement around the capital together with two other cities. Great armies were garrisoned within the city, and cultivators also provided their shelter. Therefore, even in the midst of the great calamity, the city remained a scene of flourishing prosperity. The Frost’s Descent seasonal period was approaching — the time for stocking up warmth and nourishment — and people were out picking persimmons, admiring chrysanthemums, and paying respects to ancestors. From the homes of many great noble families drifted the warm and hearty fragrance of mutton. Red chrysanthemums bloomed coquettishly, purple chrysanthemums shone brilliantly, and there were also precious ink-black chrysanthemums and jade-like emerald chrysanthemums. Small children, dressed in embroidered golden red padded jackets that made them look like New Year paintings, held plump golden-red persimmons, scooped a few spoonfuls to eat, then tossed them aside and refused to touch them again.

The adult nearby held the child and coaxed. “Why have you stopped eating?”

“This one isn’t sweet!” the child pushed the persimmon away in a milky voice.

“It’s all because the weather has been too warm this year — the persimmons aren’t sweet. In a little while we’ll have mutton hotpot, alright?” The adult held the child, eyes and heart brimming with tender love.

……

Just one wall away, military guards stood watch.

Refugees in rags huddled in the withered grass, their stomachs burning as if on fire, while their skin was swept by the cold autumn wind until it turned a dark, ashen hue.

Just one wall away, no more.

A wind passed through the refugees — their eyes dim, cowering, and numb — passed through the formation array atop the city walls, and within the lively and flourishing Shezhou City, transformed into a cultivator carrying a qin on his back.

The refugees who had been swept by the wind raised their heads in bewilderment. That wind just now… was it warm?

The deity’s avatar walked quietly along the city streets. Vendors called out their wares; people haggled over prices; laughter, scolding, and noise rolled through the mortal world like red dust, reflecting in that pair of eyes and transforming into a vast sea of cause and effect.

Chang Andu was at a stall picking through radishes, haggling as he selected them.

Life these days was simply not fit for a person to live — vegetables were growing thinner and more shriveled while prices kept climbing higher and higher. At the Frost’s Descent, one was supposed to nourish the body. If he were at home, his mother would surely force a large bowl of warm, scalding mutton soup down his throat, with several pieces of slow-braised tender mutton and silky smooth tendon. He used to find the mutton smell too gamey, but now when he thought of it, his mouth filled with fresh savory richness, hot steam rising to strike his face, enough to steam tears from a person. But Chang Andu did not cry — he was in the middle of haggling with the vegetable vendor over radishes. After much persuasion, he finally knocked the price down by two copper coins. Chang Andu picked up his basket and prepared to head back. Never mind mutton — being able to afford radishes at all was already something. Compared to those people outside the city walls, he at least still looked somewhat like a living human being. “Eat radishes in winter, ginger in summer” — that could count as nourishing oneself. He had been doing exactly this nourishing for half a month already. How wonderful. Chang Andu was thinking in this bitter yet optimistic way when before his eyes he seemed to see his mother carrying two bowls of steaming mutton soup into the study — one for him, one for his father…

Chang Andu blinked. The moisture in his eyes, conjured by the steam of that vision, dispersed. He raised his head and was about to continue walking forward when he suddenly spotted a strangely familiar figure.

Mister Li? Yet it seemed not quite the same. Mister Li dressed in the style of a white-robed scholar; this person, however, wore robes of dark cyan, with a qin on his back and his hair loose, looking like a qin musician. The temperament also seemed somewhat different, yet there was a resemblance…

That person turned their head and smiled at him. “Chang Andu.”

Chang Andu was now certain he recognized the person, and called out in delighted surprise. “Mister Li! What brings you here?”

“I intend to travel to the Liang capital and am passing through this place,” Lichi said.

“Does Mister Li have a place to lodge? If you don’t mind, perhaps you could rest at my place for a while?” Chang Andu invited. Seeing that Li Chi had agreed, his joy grew even greater.

Meeting an old acquaintance in a foreign land was a rare thing even in ordinary times — in such a turbulent age, it was all the more precious. Though he and Mister Li had only spent time together once before, Mister Li was his life-saving benefactor. That crossing on the Jiuqu River, on a boat of unknown origin… had Mister Li not been there, he would likely already be a dried skeleton at the bottom of the river.

Chang Andu, his heart filled with joy, brought Lichi back to his lodgings, and only then remembered the awkward matter — his lodgings were not bad, it was just that… the only food available here was radishes. For himself, eating this was fine, but how was he to entertain a guest?

Li Chi saw through his predicament and said first, “I no longer require food or drink.”

“The noodle soup shop on the street facing us is quite good — let me treat you to a bowl,” Chang Andu earnestly invited. “My father left behind some assets on this side. Though not much remains, I can still afford a bowl of noodle soup.”

Only after Li Chi agreed did Chang Andu let out a breath of relief.

Their family made its living through trade between the Lu and Liang Kingdoms, and had considerable assets on the Liang side as well. However, when the great calamity began, Chang Andu’s father had returned to the Lu Kingdom to avoid the disaster, and it was impossible for him to return to the Liang Kingdom in the short term. The assets he left behind had become a tempting morsel in many people’s eyes. A foreign merchant with no background or connections — by the time he returned, these things would have changed hands countless times. Would he even have the ability to reclaim them?

Chang Andu had ended up stranded in the Liang Kingdom due to an accident, but by the time he arrived, more than half of his family’s assets had already been swallowed up. Though the traces had not yet been fully erased, he was alone here with no relatives or allies to help him, and the old acquaintances he had made during his travels with his father were mostly scattered. Not wishing to cause further trouble, he had not pursued the matter, and simply recovered what was easily retrievable along with what remained, and held onto it.

But in the midst of the calamity, prices were skyrocketing, and in such an environment he had no real business he could conduct. The assets he had held onto could only dwindle with use. He had no idea how much longer he would be trapped on the Liang side before he could return home, and could only cut back further and further.

But Mister Li had saved his life. If he were to cut back even on entertaining his life-saving benefactor, that would truly be unbecoming.

The noodle soup shop that Chang Andu had mentioned was right on the next street over, close to the city gate. Their flavors were genuinely good, and even though the usual meal time had already passed, the shop was not short of customers — there were even people who came carrying food boxes specifically to take food away. Right at the entrance to the shop, a carriage sat waiting. The occupants were likely female, and a male companion who had ridden alongside dismounted and walked into the shop, ordering three servings of noodle soup and some other side dishes to take away.

This man was dressed handsomely — he was clearly not someone in the role of a guard or bodyguard. Most distinctive of all was the clothing he wore: pure white and soft, like light clouds from the heavens, leaving behind a faint and gentle fragrance wherever he passed. His origins were apparently quite distinguished within Shezhou City, as many people recognized him. The server had already rushed over with a face full of smiles, and the gazes of others were inevitably drawn over to take a look.

Li Chi also glanced over, though his gaze did not rest on the man himself — it was more that he was paying attention to the clothing the man wore. Chang Andu noticed this and said, “Paper clothing has recently come into fashion in the city. Quite a few households from prominent noble families have begun to take pride in wearing paper garments.”

After arriving in Shezhou City, not wanting to sit idly eating through his reserves, he had tried to find ways to earn money, and for a period he had looked into paper clothing. People admired and loved it for its pure white, refined elegance, but making paper clothing present this beautiful state was no easy matter. It required repeated steaming, boiling, and pounding — and on top of that, it had to be boiled with walnuts and frankincense, sometimes with silk threads mixed in, so that the finished paper would not turn yellow or become brittle, achieving pure whiteness like clouds and soft lightness while also retaining warmth.

Setting aside the labor involved in all of this, the walnuts and frankincense alone were already extremely rare and expensive aromatics. After going through all these steps, this paper clothing that appeared so plain and simple had a cost no cheaper than fine cotton cloth or even silk garments. With Chang Andu’s current capital, he had no ability to involve himself in this business, so after learning about it he had given up.

The impoverished and cold wear tree bark; the vermilion gates, in their lofty elegance, praise paper robes.

Lichi had already withdrawn his gaze indifferently, the corners of his mouth seeming to hold a faint derision.

The noodle soup had to be freshly cooked or it would turn into a clumped, muddy mess. The customers in the shop were all waiting. The man in paper clothing had entered last, yet he was the first to leave carrying his food box. The other customers did not visibly show any dissatisfaction — as if this were all perfectly natural — but in idle conversation they naturally turned to the freshest topic at hand.

Whispers rustled.

“…the Jiao family has really risen to prominence lately.” 

“What happened?” 

“Isn’t it because of that rumor?” 

“What rumor?” 

“You don’t know? It’s the one about the kingdom’s ruler…”

Li Chi held a cup of tea, drinking from it slowly. What people were discussing was a rumor that had only recently flourished, but the foundations of this rumor had actually cast their shadows more than twenty years ago. Back then it had been suppressed, but now it had exploded like a spark landing in a pool of oil.

The content of the rumor was simple, yet sufficiently alarming — Liang Kingdom’s ruler King Xu Chang had conspired with the Luo Sect to commit patricide and seize the throne.

Where there is smoke, there is likely fire.

Twenty-three years ago, the old King of the Liang Kingdom passed away from illness, and the current King Xu Chang ascended to the throne. Xu Chang was the old King’s eldest legitimate son and the long-designated heir. Under normal circumstances, he needed only to wait for the old king to die and he would naturally become the new King of Liang. What conceivable reason could he have had to risk universal condemnation by committing the act of patricide?

Yet there were old matters that, though no one spoke of them now, the old people of the Liang Kingdom still remembered. In his earlier years, the previous old King of Liang had indeed designated the legitimate eldest, Xu Chang, as his heir. However, some thirty-plus years ago, the old King had acquired a consort named Tu Yao. This consort was said to possess a beauty of extraordinary magnificence, beyond what was possible for the human world, and the old King adored her deeply. Tu Yao gave birth to a son twenty-nine years ago — bright, clever, and beautiful — whom the old King greatly cherished, and he wished to change the designated heir to this younger son.

At the time, Xu Chang was already fully grown, and the King’s principal consort had powerful backing behind her as well. The old King was resolute, and the two sides struggled in a deadlock. The waves stirred by this affair at the time were not small, and many families knew of it.

The deadlock at the time had not yet yielded a result, yet Xu Chang and the principal consort were already gradually showing signs of falling behind. Though the decree to change the designated heir had not yet been written, everyone could see the outcome — Xu Chang and the principal consort were merely fighting as cornered beasts.

Yet at precisely this juncture, the old King suddenly died without warning. Xu Chang’s position had been hanging by a thread, but at this moment he was still nominally the Crown Prince of Liang, so he ascended to become the new King, bringing this contest to its close.

As for that consort whose beauty was said to be beyond what the human world could hold…

……

Liang Capital, deep palace with jade-green tiles.

Du Ji wore a thick cloak with embroidered golden trim, his hair loosely gathered at the back of his head with a silk ribbon. The cold Frost’s Descent wind swept a lock of black hair from his temple, letting it fall beside his jade-white face, making his complexion appear even more translucently pale, his lips even more faintly colorless — like a person of thin blood and cold constitution. Yet the force of his bearing pressed down and suppressed that sense of fragility, so that he no longer appeared weak; instead it became a bone-deep coldness, as if even this person’s breath was cold. The more cold and lifeless he appeared, the more breathtaking his beauty became — that was the fine complexion he had inherited from his mother.

Yet his coloring still could not compare to his mother’s. One smile and a hundred flowers bloomed; one furrowed brow and clouds broke one’s heart — that was a transcendent beauty that the human world could not possess.

In Du Ji’s memories, his mother smiled often. He did not understand things like “a beloved imperial consort of surpassing beauty” — nor did he feel anything about things like “devastating, kingdom-toppling looks.” He only knew that she was a gentle mother who would hold him and make sweet osmanthus cakes with her own hands. Only later did he come to understand that his mother had only smiled often when facing him. But before he could figure out why his mother was so sorrowful, the world had changed.

His father died. They said the Liang King’s favored consort had died of excessive grief, following him in death.

Du Ji stood in a desolate courtyard, holding a flask of wine in his hand. That plain white porcelain flask, held in his hand, looked as though it had been carved from beautiful jade. In the center of the courtyard, before a well, weeds grew wild around the well’s edge. The well’s mouth was no wider than twelve inches — so narrow that a person standing inside would have almost no room to move.

It was into such a well that his mother had been consigned.

He could not even find her bones. It was said that powders capable of dissolving bone had been poured in.

How deeply they must have hated her.

At the time he was not yet six years old. A king-elder brother old enough to be his father had just ascended to the throne, and brought guards to lock him in the old ancestral hall.

Both parents were dead — he was required to observe mourning. That is what Xu Chang had said, after which he sent people to deliver one meal a day of thin, bland cold porridge. He was not permitted to go outside, nor was anyone permitted to speak with him.

He could not die too quickly, because Xu Chang could not be seen as a tyrannical ruler who persecuted his younger half-brother — especially at a time when his position was unstable and dark rumors swirled. But he also could not go on living indefinitely.

Come to think of it, he ought to thank Xu Chang’s two children. Without Ah Ci, he could not have lasted in the ancestral hall until later. And if not for Xu Kang’s strange illness, he would not have been able to preserve his life and see the light of day.

A small stele had been erected before the well, with a simple inscription of only two lines:

“Tomb of my late mother, Tu Shan Yao” 

“Erected by her son, Huan”

Du Ji was the name he used within the Xuanqing Sect. Huan was the name his mother had given him. The name by which his mother was known to the outside world was Tu Yao, but in private, she had once told him that her true name was Tu Shan Yao. She was most fond of osmanthus flowers — sometimes making cakes, sometimes brewing wine — and each time she drank, she would gaze into the distance at some unknown, faraway place.

Du Ji gazed quietly for a while, then tilted the flask of osmanthus wine into the well.

The autumn wind swept through the withered grass. Not a soul remained in the courtyard.

In the palace hall with walls plastered in tangerine-peel green clay, Xu Yourong looked at Du Ji who had appeared suddenly before her and could not help but tremble. She forced out a voice to ask, “You… what do you want to do?”

“I have come to take you to see your father and mother,” Du Ji said calmly.

Xu Yourong first felt a surge of joy, but in the very next instant she thought of more, and her face drained of color. She clutched tightly at Du Ji’s cloak and asked, “You… my father and mother…”

Du Ji’s voice was very calm, yet those pitch-black eyes held within them something like descending frost. “You should be thanking me. Your father — he never gave me such an opportunity.”

No chance to see his mother’s face one last time. Not knowing anything at all, just being dragged by guards into the old ancestral hall.

Xu Yourong let out a sorrowful cry and threw herself at him in a violent struggle. Du Ji restrained her with effortless ease, shifted his stance, and the two of them disappeared from the palace hall.

……

Back in the noodle soup shop, people quickly stopped discussing the rumor about Liang King Xu Chang’s patricide.

That such a rumor could suddenly be rife on everyone’s lips was not a normal state of affairs. Perceptive individuals had already caught the smell of a changing sky from within it — for instance, within Shezhou City, one family that had been Liang King’s confidant had gone quiet and kept its head down, while another family had naturally risen to prominence.

But at least for now, Xu Chang was still the Liang King. In public settings, one still needed to be careful when discussing these matters.

Chang Andu took his own experiences along the road as a topic for conversation and chatted idly with Li Chi.

“Being able to preserve one’s life is the most important thing,” Chang Andu said with feeling. “Having been able to travel all this way here after disembarking from that boat, I’ve already been very fortunate.”

He had entered the Liang Kingdom from the banks of the Jiuqu River at the Lu-Liang border, and Shezhou City was already deep in the Liang heartland. This journey of hundreds upon thousands of li, with demons and malevolent spirits running rampant — he was only an ordinary mortal with no cultivation, and even his martial skills were crude and shallow. To have arrived here safely could be counted almost as a miracle.

“Perhaps it is… protection,” Chang Andu said, glossing over the middle word, and the joy he had felt at the unexpected encounter with Li Chi was also suppressed back down.