ATEG Chapter 118.1

The first month of early winter: water begins to freeze, the earth begins to harden.

Sui Territory, Zhao Lake.

After several snowfalls — neither heavy nor light — ice had formed across the lake’s surface. The water was clear and transparent, and so too was the ice layer, a deep translucent blue. Only along the banks had an unmelted dusting of thin snow accumulated, taking on a misty white color; seen from a distance, it resembled a stretch of beautiful silk ribbon winding along the shore.

A slender bridge spanned the lake, connecting to a pavilion at its heart. Fine snow drifted down — truly a scene of exquisite beauty. At this moment, several scholars in brocade robes sat within the pavilion, draped in heavy cloaks, warming wine over a small brazier. They admired the snow amidst the rising steam and vapor, and seen from afar, they cut a most refined and elegant picture. Watching their lips move faintly, one could only wonder whether they had composed some brilliant new verse.

“Zo-Zo-Zou, Brother Zou, it’s fr-fr-freezing. We’ve seen the sn-sn-snow — can we go b-b-back now?” Scholar Qiao said, his lips chattering as he clutched a hand warmer.

“Qi-Qi-Qiao, Brother Qiao, just a l-l-little longer. Have a couple more s-s-sips of wine to warm up.” Scholar Zou, visiting the north and seeing snow for the first time, was reluctant to leave, and fished his hand out of his sleeve to pour another cup.

Scholar Qiao couldn’t bring himself to drink it outright, and first cupped the wine in his hands to warm them. A cold wind blew — the hot wine cooled to warm. Another gust — the warm wine chilled.

Scholar Qiao felt like weeping. He hurriedly poured a bit more hot wine into the cup and swallowed it down in one gulp.

Beneath the frozen lake, General Crab braced his eight legs and rose up tall, striking upward with both great claws.

Crack, crack, crack.

The ice layer — not yet too thick — was instantly smashed open in two great holes. A crowd of plump fish immediately swam to the edge of the openings, savoring the air that poured in along with the sunlight.

General Crab stretched his claws in contentment and circled around the ice holes a couple of times, leaving behind a measure of divine power. From now on, these two holes wouldn’t freeze over for the rest of winter — a pair of breathing spots he’d set aside.

Zhao Lake sat in a wide, flat expanse of land — prime territory of fertile fields and rich waters — but with no sheltering hills to block the wind, the cold arrived here first every winter, biting hard. Other waters in Sui territory were still warm, yet here the ice had already formed.

Mortals liked to admire the wind and snow and such things, but General Crab had long grown tired of the sight. If you asked him, those mortals were a curious lot — what was the point of admiring even the most beautiful scenery while curled up like a shrimp? He was the one who didn’t fear the cold, and even he found it too chilly to bother moving. Yet these humans, shivering and shaking, still insisted on crowding toward the lake in the dead of winter — heading straight for wherever it was coldest.

General Crab’s large eyes rolled once around, and he stopped watching the two fools freezing in the pavilion, sinking back down beneath the water.

Scholar Zou heard something behind him and turned his head. Two new holes had appeared in the lake’s surface — he was about to ask about it when he heard Scholar Qiao say, “Cr-cr-cr—”

Scholar Zou turned back toward him, and saw Scholar Qiao staring at him wide-eyed, continuing, “Cr-cr-crab—”

Though he didn’t understand, he quickly said, “D-don’t mention it!”

“Don’t mention it my foot!” Scholar Qiao’s irritation broke through his shivering. “I’m saying — General Crab!”

“General Crab?” Scholar Zou looked utterly blank.

“General Crab is the Lake God! Come on, come on, let’s go! Don’t stay here — we’ll offend the Lake God!” Scholar Qiao leapt up and began gathering his things.

Seeing how flustered he was, Scholar Zou assumed this General Crab must be a fierce divine spirit, and abandoned any thought of watching the snow. He scrambled up and began hastily packing his things. “Is this General Crab… fe-fierce?”

Scholar Qiao glared at him. “General Crab is a Water God!”

Scholar Zou dared say no more, and obediently followed along as they fled from the lake. Water gods were famously wrathful since ancient times — no more watching, no more watching! Besides, the lake was broken now.

Scholar Qiao exhaled behind him — good, he’d finally managed to trick this fool who’d never seen snow into leaving. Then he immediately offered a silent prayer in his heart: “General Crab, please don’t take offense — I only borrowed your name for a moment. If I hadn’t gotten him to leave, I would have frozen to death on this lake.”

General Crab didn’t hear him. And even if he had, he wouldn’t have cared. He was feeling cold himself, and was thinking about heading upstream to take refuge from winter at an old friend’s place.

But this year, he couldn’t just go off on his own — he still had two guests staying with him.

General Crab opened the breathing holes in the lake, then dove back down to ask: did they want to come along with him to somewhere warmer?

Ding Qin had no objection. Bai Hong also wanted to come along and visit other old companions of the Huai Water Divine Lord.

General Crab set up a formation array in the lake to guard his home while he was away, then brought along a few clever and lively junior members of his court.

Swimming upstream to escape the winter cold, hey!

****

The second month of midwinter: the ice grows thicker, the earth begins to crack.

Sui Royal Palace.

Ah Lu was followed by a court musician. In recent days, the Sui King’s headaches had grown increasingly severe — when the pain flared into irritability, she could bear neither the slightest disruptive noise, nor the utter dead silence of complete quiet.

Eliminating noise was easy enough — simply set up a formation array within the hall. But making it too silent was the difficult part. So Ah Lu had taken the array down. And because the sound of wind sweeping through branches outside the hall was too disturbing, she had ordered all the dense branches trimmed from the trees, leaving only bare, naked trunks. This way there would still be the sound of the wind, yet not so sharp and desolate.

Yet Ying Bufu grew more irritable by the day. The root of her suffering lay in the headaches, but Ah Lu could not cure the headaches — she could only attend to these small details, doing what she could to keep Ying Bufu from suffering quite so much. Ah Lu sincerely hoped that Bie Chunian Zhenren was not a bad person — only he could provide even slight relief for Ying Bufu’s headaches. But he refused to give more of those medicinal pellets, and the King herself was unwilling to use more of them. Although she seemed to already trust and feel close to Bie Chunian Zhenren, she would only light one pellet when the pain truly became unbearable.

Though Ah Lu was anxious, she had no other recourse. She wondered what kind of sound might be soothing without being disruptive, and this brought to mind the troupe of musicians still kept in the palace.

In her youth, Ying Bufu had very much loved music, and would often summon musicians to rehearse new compositions. But later she had no more leisure for it. These musicians lived in the palace, called upon only when the King held banquets for her ministers during festivals. Remembering this group of musicians, Ah Lu had gone in person, found the most accomplished among them — an old qin master — explained everything to him, and brought him along to try with the Sui King.

Yet before she could even enter the hall, Ah Lu was stopped.

The one who stopped her was an elderly official — black robes, formal hat, white beard, and crane-white hair. This was the Sui Prime Minister, already past ninety. When Ying Bufu had stabilized Sui Kingdom and ascended to the throne, this elder daren had been among those who aided her. He had come to see the Sui King, but had been stopped by the palace guards, and Ah Lu could not simply turn him away.

“Daren Dantai,” Ah Lu bowed to him.

The elder bore the compound surname Dantai, given name Liu — Dantai Liu. He recognized Ah Lu: this was a palace attendant who had been close to the King since childhood, raised at her side, possessed of considerable martial skill, and had guarded her ever since. Upon seeing Ah Lu, he immediately furrowed his brow and asked, “Where is the King?”

“The King is within the hall.”

“At a time of such tribulation, how can you be away from the King’s side?” Dantai Liu reproached her.

A voice came from within the hall. “Please come inside to speak, Elder Daren.”

The two turned. Ying Bufu was standing in the doorway, supported by an attendant; caught by the draft of wind, her complexion had gone slightly pale.

Ah Lu hurried to support her back inside. Dantai Liu followed them in as well. The room was filled with the warm, pungent fragrance of burning incense — though the scent was rather strong, in this increasingly bitter early winter, such warm and heated fragrance felt appropriate. Dantai Liu wrinkled his nose slightly at the incense, and glanced toward its source: the incense burner sat on a small table beside the bed. Aside from the pallor the wind had brought to her face, Ying Bufu appeared otherwise normal.

Dantai Liu first assessed her condition, then looked toward Ah Lu and the old qin master who had followed. His brow furrowed again.

Before he could speak, Ying Bufu said first, “Elder Daren, please do not blame her — it is not her fault. It was I who sent her.”

Ah Lu confessed honestly, “It is my fault. I could have sent someone else — I should not have left my post myself.”

Choosing a musician was a minor matter that didn’t require her personal attention; she could have sent a palace attendant. Her most important duty was to guard the King. She had been momentarily overcome by anxiety.

Dantai Liu stopped looking at Ah Lu and fixed Ying Bufu with a solemn stare: See, even Ah Lu understands this — how can you be so thoughtless?

Ying Bufu had no way to manage this venerable elder — the man was past ninety — and could only follow suit in admitting fault. “It is my error.”

Dantai Liu said, “The King should take care of herself.”

Ying Bufu nodded. “I will. I am quite well.”

Dantai Liu continued. “If that is so, why has the King not appeared at court for so many days?”

Ying Bufu sighed. The Elder Daren remained as sharp as ever, invoking his authority and age to enter the royal palace directly and demand answers from her.

“I have labored for many years and wished to rest for a few days,” she said.

Dantai Liu cast a briefly glance at the nearly invisible qin master, and Ah Lu also looked at the musician and tilted her head. The qin master quietly retreated into the side chamber.

Dantai Liu said, “That Bie Zhenren who frequently enters and exits the palace — is he a companion to keep the King entertained during these days of recuperation?”

Ah Lu’s eyes went wide. Ying Bufu nodded. “That is correct.”

Ah Lu’s eyes went even wider.

Dantai Liu said nothing for a moment. He regarded Ying Bufu, and after a long pause, sighed. “The King has toiled with great dedication since ascending the throne. It is understandable to want some relaxation.”

He stepped back. The King would rather admit to keeping a personal favorite in the palace than tell him what was truly happening — he knew he was unlikely to get an answer today. Yet based on the King’s current standing, even if she kept dozens of personal favorites it would have no consequence. He had misjudged; he should have approached the question differently. The King had not come this far by being someone who would care about the mere reputation of keeping favorites.

But since this avenue of questioning was now closed, Dantai Liu changed his approach and appealed to sentiment. “Does Your Majesty still remember what you once promised me?”

Ah Lu couldn’t help but draw a sharp breath. Ying Bufu shot her a sharp look, then softened her voice toward Dantai Liu. “I remember, naturally. I gave Elder Daren my word — I will not fail Sui.”

Dantai Liu continued. “If Your Majesty finds Dantai of use, the hundreds and thousands of Dantai clan sons and daughters dare offer their very bodies to clear the path before you.” He no longer sought to learn what had happened — he had begun to offer his direct allegiance.

Ying Bufu was at a loss. The Elder Daren watched her with earnest sincerity, and she found herself moved despite herself. Dantai Liu said the Dantai clan was willing to die for her — she believed it, but not because of loyalty to her personally. It was because their aims were aligned. They both wished for Sui to prosper.

The Dantai clan was not loyal to her — they were loyal to Sui. And it was precisely for this reason that she dared not let anyone know she was in difficulty. Sui appeared prosperous on the surface, yet in truth it tottered on the edge. Of the Ying clan, only she remained — so long as the Ying clan name endured, Sui had its king. Sui could not fall into chaos for now. But if she died, the Ying line would cease, and Sui would have no master. There was no shortage of ambitious people in this world — they would certainly rise up all at once, and Sui territory would be impossible to stabilize again until a new ruler emerged.

Furthermore, the Ying clan had accumulated royal qi across many generations — a force rare among mortals that could nonetheless affect cultivators. Without royal qi, how else could the Ji clan of Liang Kingdom, with all its turmoil, have preserved the royal succession for hundreds of years? If Ying Bufu died and the Ying clan’s royal qi dispersed, cultivators would intervene — and in the midst of this great calamity, Sui territory would be ravaged beyond reckoning.

It was partly for this reason that Dantai Liu had been willing to be the first to openly support her back then, alongside the abilities she herself had demonstrated. But Dantai Liu was no fool. Though he had not managed to extract information from her today, he had very likely already formed his suspicions.

“Elder Daren…” Ying Bufu said slowly, seeming somewhat distracted.

“Your Majesty,” Dantai Liu interrupted. He rose from his chair, stepped back several paces, and bowed with full formality. “Your Majesty must take care of herself. Dantai is willing to relieve Your Majesty’s burdens.”

Ying Bufu suddenly smiled. “I understand. I will take care of myself.”

Dantai Liu took his leave. Ah Lu was still somewhat dazed. “He just… left like that?”

In her eyes, Dantai Liu was a remarkably capable and intelligent man — someone impossible to deceive. He had come to find out what was truly wrong with the Sui King. So why had he left so easily?

“The Elder Daren already has his suspicions. He does not necessarily need the answer — he came to see my condition. Seeing that I am still well, he set his heart at ease.” Ying Bufu explained patiently. “He came to tell me that the Dantai clan is willing to stand on my side.”

Ah Lu nodded, half understanding, then asked, “But if he had seen… had seen…”

Ying Bufu still wore that faint smile. Ah Lu didn’t dare say it aloud, but she had no qualms. “If my condition were poor, then he would not have come to offer the Dantai clan to me.”

He might still have said the same words — but the Dantai clan would have begun making plans to abandon her and seek another path.

She saw that Ah Lu was still turning it over in her mind, and didn’t continue elaborating. Things couldn’t all be chewed up and fed into one’s mouth — one had to think for oneself before it could truly be called learning.

“Come — help me put out the incense,” Ying Bufu called Ah Lu over.

Ah Lu quickly opened the incense burner. Inside lay three incense pellets. She picked them out and returned them to their case, watching Ying Bufu with worry.

Ying Bufu closed her eyes, enduring the headache that gradually worsened as the incense fragrance dissipated. She had temporarily lit three incense pellets just now to suppress the headache long enough to receive Dantai Liu. But she was unwilling to rely too much on the pellets Bie Chunian had sent. She had already dimly noticed that their effect on her was slowly diminishing — and so, as long as she could still bear it, she preferred to endure.

“Didn’t you bring a qin master?” she said to the worried Ah Lu. “Have him come play.”

****

Dantai Liu did indeed have his suspicions. There were not many kinds of trouble that could cause the King to refuse the Dantai clan’s assistance. But his choice to support Ying Bufu from the beginning had not been merely for lack of alternatives — it was also because Ying Bufu had genuinely proven herself worthy. Ying Bufu’s life had been one of extraordinary upheaval, and her elevated, solitary position made it difficult for her to trust others. But the Dantai clan had not risen through opportunism — they were a lineage of hundreds of years, with their own inborn integrity. When Sui had teetered on the edge of chaos, she had held it together; now that she faced trouble of her own, Dantai was willing to hold her in turn.

There had been quiet stirrings of unrest at court and in the greater realm, born of the King’s prolonged absence — but he had suppressed it all in his capacity as Sui Prime Minister. He was aged now, and had been slowly preparing to step back, but returning to active duty was no great difficulty. The King had referred to herself as “I” when speaking with him — a sign that she remembered the bond formed during the time she, as princess, had helped the young Sui King pacify the kingdom, and that she remembered what they had both sought back then.

Though he did not know why the King had not appeared at court these past days, there was an unspoken understanding between them — with him as Sui Prime Minister, Sui would not fall into disorder.

The carriage rolled out through the palace gates. To travel by carriage within the royal palace was itself a privilege the King had granted him.

Hooves clip-clopping, the carriage left the hushed solemnity before the palace gates and entered a stretch of bustling life. Crowds had gathered around a martial contest stage and were cheering loudly; shopkeepers and street vendors on both sides called out to passersby with cheerful smiles. Then the carriage moved from the noise back into quiet, rolling into Tianshui Street where the Dantai family residence stood.

As they entered the front courtyard, the faint sounds of the younger generation’s laughter and commotion drifted over. Dantai Liu relaxed and smiled. “What are they up to now?”

The driver guided the horse at an easy pace as they went further in, and answered, “It seems they spotted something interesting outside — some blind painter or other…”

****

Liuying City.

Yang Cang was thinking about Changpu’s affairs.

With the backing of Mingdeng Sect’s network, Changpu had only recently arrived at the Sui capital, yet had already found her opportunity. A while from now would be the great festival of the Winter Solstice — the Sui King would begin distributing charcoal and other provisions to noble households a month in advance, as a demonstration of royal favor. Those who received the Sui King’s gifts would send representatives to the palace to offer thanks — a tradition through which the King and her ministers maintained their bond, though one did not necessarily get to see the King herself.

It was a rare opportunity. They were in the shadows, and Bie Chunian was in the light — that was their advantage. But they had disadvantages too.

Bie Chunian had operated in Sui territory for a long time. They did not know how far along his plans were, nor whether the pace of their own scheme was swift enough to stop him. But neither could they move too hastily — given Bie Chunian’s intelligence, he had surely laid down countless measures throughout Sui territory. If they rushed, they risked exposing themselves. Yang Cang would never underestimate Bie Chunian — even being this cautious, he had no absolute certainty of dealing with him.

Because this was Bie Chunian, after all… In his early years Yang Cang had traveled through Min and Ji territories following his master, and had witnessed firsthand how Bie Chunian had dealt with those who brought harm to those regions. Later they had left Min — Yang Cang had not thought much of it at the time, but now he understood: Min territory had been the Flame Lord’s domain.

Compared to his arrangements targeting Sui, Yang Cang had first laid out preparations regarding Bie Chunian’s past affairs. He did not expect these preparations to defeat Bie Chunian — but they would at least be enough to protect Changpu.

Yang Cang bowed his head in thought, the black stone in his palm flickering on and off.

Shitou was practicing the lamp-lighting technique he had taught it.

Chai Huo still had not managed to ignite his heart-flame, yet Shitou — whose soul was incomplete — had succeeded first. The flame was unsteady, flickering on and off, but with this beginning, the rest would come more easily in time.

Shitou has been working very hard these days. Before, it had only been able to vaguely sense its surroundings — sounds barely audible, the environment around it nearly impossible to perceive clearly: able to hear, yet unable to act, almost like a living corpse. It had discovered that after lighting its heart-flame, its perception became far clearer, and its thinking seemed less muddled than before. In other words: when the lamp was lit, it became smarter!