Chapter 855: The Emperor

The sun rose.

According to the agreement, Prince Pingxi was supposed to attend his meeting with Chancellor Han today.

“Dress me.”

“Yes!”

“Yes!”

Chen Xianba, Liu Dahu, and Zheng Man brought out the Prince’s black armor and prepared to help him put it on.

But the Prince merely said calmly:

“I said dress me.”

Dress.

Not armor.

The three bodyguards stared blankly.

If he was not wearing armor, what was he supposed to wear?

He had ordinary clothes, certainly, but most of them were underlayers. On campaign, there was little room for such fussiness. Armor practically never left the body.

Chen Xianba reacted fastest.

“Your Highness, do you mean the python robe?”

Zheng Fan nodded.

“Please wait a moment, Your Highness.”

Chen Xianba left the command tent, mounted a horse, and galloped through the camp toward one of its farther corners.

A group of people stayed there who looked completely out of place in a military camp.

They were the direct family members of Prince Fu Residence.

Ever since the army left Chuzhou City, the Prince had not summoned the Princess Consort of Prince Fu even once, much less favored her.

The Prince Fu household could only move with the army.

These people, accustomed all their lives to fine clothes and rich food, had indeed suffered considerably over the past few days.

But Zhao Yuannian at least tried to improve himself.

He was frequently summoned into the command tent so the Prince could ask him about matters concerning Qian.

At other times, he voluntarily helped the army with clerical work.

As for the rest of the family, none had complained of hardship or exhaustion.

When Chen Xianba reached their tents, he happened to see the Princess Consort of Prince Fu washing clothes.

Her clothing was much more casual than before, but her complexion actually looked far healthier.

The Princess Consort’s three daughters-in-law were nearby.

The eldest, Zhao Yuannian’s principal wife, sat beside her mother-in-law and helped wash.

One of the two secondary consorts was feeding the horses.

The other had just returned from the quartermaster carrying the family’s rations for the next two days.

Zhao Yuannian refused to let his household act delicate.

The Princess Consort herself led by example.

They had brought a fair number of loyal Prince Fu Residence guards with them when leaving Chuzhou City. The family could easily have remained “provided for” inside the Yan army.

Instead, Zhao Yuannian had voluntarily transferred all those guards into Yan formations.

He had not kept a single one beside his own family.

Chen Xianba dismounted and saluted the Princess Consort.

“I ask the Queen Mother to proceed to the command tent.”

The Princess Consort looked slightly surprised.

He... wanted her?

Chen Xianba continued:

“Also, please bring a python robe and its accessories. Our Prince wishes to dress.”

When Prince Fu Residence moved out of Chuzhou City, naturally most of its household property could not come with it.

But some things would never be left behind.

Formal attire, for example.

They understood perfectly well that this was the foundation upon which Prince Fu Residence would preserve its value and survive.

For a long time to come, they could only exist as political puppets.

That meant they had to look presentable.

Though puzzled, the Princess Consort immediately nodded.

“Very well. I understand.”

Then she called over all three daughters-in-law to help her gather the clothing and accessories.

In the end, she simply brought all three women with her to the command tent.

When they arrived, Zhao Yuannian was already inside, continuing to explain certain matters concerning Han Sui.

Zheng Fan saw the Princess Consort and nodded to her.

“Help me dress.”

She curtsied lightly.

“This concubine brought Yuannian’s python robe and accessories.”

“Then dress me according to Qian custom. The man I’ll be meeting in a little while is one of your Qian Chancellors anyway.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The Princess Consort and her three daughters-in-law began choosing the clothing and accessories.

In truth, before Prince Jingnan and Prince Zhenbei had been enfeoffed as Princes, Great Yan’s Ministry of Rites had already worked with the palace Embroidery Bureau to design and produce python robes specifically for military Princes of a different surname.

After all, Yan had never previously possessed Princes of a different surname.

At the time, a very senior member of the imperial clan heard that the court was preparing python robes and kindly submitted a memorial to the late Emperor Ji Runhao.

Why not simply use the python-robe design worn by Princes of the imperial clan?

He could guarantee that the imperial clan understood the larger picture and no one would accuse the two military Princes of overstepping ritual bounds.

In fact, to demonstrate the imperial clan’s “broad-mindedness” and “sense of the greater good,” he even rallied a group of clansmen to submit a joint memorial supporting the proposal.

The Emperor’s reply was simple.

Direct.

And extremely characteristic of Emperor Yan himself:

“Having the two Princes of a different surname wear imperial-clan princely robes would be too shabby.”

“...”

The imperial clan was stunned stupid.

It was not that they had generously volunteered to surrender one of their privileges.

In the Emperor’s eyes, apparently, making those two Princes of a different surname wear the same python robes as the imperial clan would actually demean them.

Great Yan’s military-Prince python robes were eventually produced in their own distinct style.

Zheng Fan owned two sets.

One was white and suitable for wearing at home.

The other was black, austere and imposing, embroidered with golden pythons that almost resembled dragons.

It could only be described as overwhelmingly majestic.

The needlework and choice of fabric were both of the highest quality.

That was Siniang’s assessment.

Still, Zheng Fan did not regret failing to bring one of those Great Yan python robes with him.

Wearing a Qian robe would do.

In fact, for what he was about to do, it was more appropriate.

“Yuannian.”

“Your Highness.”

“Go feed my Pixiu a few more handfuls.”

Delight immediately appeared on Zhao Yuannian’s face.

The tradition of adopted sons was popular in Qian as well.

The regime that preceded the Liang dynasty had been a separatist power founded by another great general. The later Emperor of Liang had been that general’s son-in-law, while Great Qian’s founding Emperor Taizu had effectively been one of the general’s adopted sons.

The old father dons his armor.

The adopted son leads his horse.

Truthfully, compared with repeatedly calling Zheng Fan “Dad” or “Adoptive Father” in a crisp voice, there was nothing emotionally difficult about this kind of ritual.

Zheng Fan’s present status was sufficient.

After Zhao Yuannian left the command tent in high spirits to find the Pixiu, the four women continued dressing the Prince.

The python robe itself was only one part.

The truly troublesome part was the accessories from head to toe.

Yan people favored freedom.

Chu people emphasized ritual.

Qian people obsessed over detail.

How the belt was tied.

How the tassels were looped.

Where the jade pendants hung.

How every other piece coordinated with the whole.

There was a proper procedure for all of it.

Chen Xianba gave Liu Dahu and Zheng Man a look, then walked out of the command tent.

The other two immediately followed.

Only the Prince and four women remained inside.

One of Zhao Yuannian’s secondary consorts was crouching in front of Zheng Fan, tying a golden tassel.

She was not fat, but her figure possessed very prominent features.

It was summer, and Qian’s climate remained warm, so she was not wearing much.

As she concentrated on the tassel, the deep valley beneath her clothing was clearly outlined.

Zheng Fan suddenly remembered a saying:

The figure a man likes most usually belongs to his mistress, because too many other factors influence the choice of a wife.

Zhao Yuannian’s principal Princess Consort had undoubtedly been part of a political marriage.

As for his secondary consorts...

Just then...

Zheng Fan sensed the woman crouching before him lean backward.

That exquisite millstone of a backside pressed against him.

There was no startled touch followed by immediate retreat.

Instead... the millstone began to grind.

Zhao Yuannian’s principal wife and the other secondary consort were fastening Zheng Fan’s belt.

The Princess Consort of Prince Fu was hanging accessories at his hip.

All three women had obviously seen what was happening.

All three pretended they had not.

Zhao Yuannian had happily gone off to feed the Pixiu.

In his eyes, after losing Prince Fu Residence, his future now had only one possible place to rest:

Prince Pingxi.

He had not deliberately left his mother and his wives and concubines inside the tent because he wanted anything to happen.

After all... he had already accepted the matter concerning his mother.

As for his wives, he had never intended to offer them.

It simply had not occurred to him at all.

His father-in-law was a retired Minister of Rites, an exceptionally prestigious and upright sort of connection that had once helped wash away some of the “filth” clinging to the title of feudal prince.

But now Zhao Yuannian had already betrayed the country.

His father-in-law was naturally useless.

Which meant his Princess Consort...

Still, Zheng Fan did not allow the increasingly ambiguous atmosphere to continue.

Pa!

He slapped the millstone.

“Ah...”

Then, with the same motion, he pushed it away.

The secondary consort remained half bent over, still holding the half-finished golden tassel.

She turned back.

Her eyes were misty as she looked at the Prince of Yan.

At the same time, the Princess Consort of Prince Fu and the other two women paused slightly.

Zheng Fan shook his head.

“Since I promised to take all of you away, I will protect you. After the army returns, I’ll arrange a place for Prince Fu Residence as well. Your lives may not be as extravagantly wealthy as before, but living comfortably and safely will be no problem. There’s no need to do this anymore.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The millstone secondary consort turned back and respectfully curtsied.

Then she resumed fastening the golden tassel.

Zhao Yuannian’s principal wife and the other secondary consort both quietly breathed out, a stone falling from their hearts.

A smile appeared on the Princess Consort of Prince Fu’s face as well.

Once the dressing was finally complete, the Qian feudal-prince python robe, originally designed to convey refined dignity, somehow radiated a fierce dominance on Zheng Fan’s body.

Clothes made the man and a saddle made the horse.

But after all these years of experience, Zheng Fan had long since learned how to wear authority as naturally as skin.

“You three may leave,” the Princess Consort said.

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

The three daughters-in-law withdrew.

The Princess Consort then leaned into Zheng Fan’s chest and pressed her nose against his python robe, inhaling deeply as though restraining some emotion.

Zheng Fan did not push her away.

A moment later, she smiled.

“Many thanks, Your Highness. You’ve left this mother-in-law far too much face.”

Zheng Fan assumed she meant that he had spared her three daughters-in-law for her sake.

But then she continued:

“This mother-in-law pleases Your Highness’s eye more than her daughters-in-law. It gives this concubine quite a bit of face.”

“Heh.”

“Why is Your Highness laughing?”

“Now that you’ve left Chuzhou City, there’s no need to keep acting so cautious and lowly. There was another fellow who behaved like that when he first came to my side, always lowering himself. I cursed him out once. He’s much better now.”

Zheng Fan was talking about the Savage King.

“All right, all right, my Prince. This concubine understands. But...”

“But what?”

“How did it feel?”

“You’re a mother-in-law.”

“In chaotic times, human lives are grass. That’s especially true in wealthy households. A touch doesn’t carve a piece of flesh off anyone, does it?”

Zheng Fan looked at her.

“You truly take things in stride.”

“Listen to Your Highness. Don’t you understand these principles even better than this concubine? Besides, there’s no sense in a man bending his knee and everyone praising him for knowing when to yield, while a woman bends her waist and suddenly it becomes an unforgivable crime. Aren’t we all simply trying to stay alive?”

“Enough, enough. I understand.”

“Does Your Highness think this concubine talks too much today? I’ve barely had a chance to see Your Highness these past few days.”

“I’m about to go speak with one of your Qian Chancellors. I need to save some saliva.”

The Princess Consort covered her mouth and laughed so hard her body trembled.

Then, growing bolder, she teased:

“My heavens. Has even old Chancellor Han managed to beat this concubine for Your Highness’s mouth?”

This woman... really had become bolder.

Pa!

This time... his palm did not bounce away.

It sank in.

...

When Zheng Fan lifted the command-tent flap and stepped outside, he discovered that thick clouds had swallowed the sky.

The world had grown dim as night.

Rain was beginning to fall.

A downpour was coming.

The Pixiu led Zhao Yuannian over.

Yes.

The Pixiu led Zhao Yuannian.

How could Prince Pingxi’s Pixiu possibly allow someone else to lead it?

Zhao Yuannian did not dare argue with the “divine beast.”

He held the reins, but only dared walk behind.

The Pixiu reached Zheng Fan, bent its forelegs, and knelt.

Zheng Fan mounted.

The beast rose again.

A python robe on his body.

A Pixiu beneath him.

He looked as though some heroic figure had stepped straight out of a painting.

The Princess Consort of Prince Fu leaned against the command tent, light flickering in her eyes.

Before her wedding, the Princess of Great Chu had compared Zheng Fan, then still only a Count, with Qu Peiluo more than once.

And now... as the Princess Consort of Prince Fu looked at Zheng Fan, she too almost instinctively thought of her own husband, the late Prince Fu.

Elsewhere, the Sword Saint, dressed entirely in white, was already waiting on horseback.

He carried no banner.

He wore no armor and made no pretense of being an ordinary flag bearer.

Zheng Fan might wonder whether Chancellor Han’s flag bearer would turn out to be the Baili Sword.

But the other side hardly needed to guess.

If Prince Pingxi brought a flag bearer, it would obviously be the Sword Saint of Jin.

Chen Xianba offered Wuya to him.

The Prince refused.

He raised his head toward the oppressive sky and felt the cool touch of fine raindrops against his face.

“On a rainy night, there’s no need to bring a saber.”

“Your Highness, it’s still daytime,” Chen Xianba said.

“Whether it is night is not determined by whether the sun exists. It depends on whether a person’s eyes can still see.”

Chen Xianba froze.

Then something seemed to dawn on him.

“This subordinate understands.”

“Good.”

There was no need to whip the Pixiu.

The moment their exchange ended, the beast very consciously moved toward the Sword Saint.

The Sword Saint had originally ridden a black horse.

But after the Pixiu deliberately bullied that horse several times, the poor animal somehow “accidentally” broke a leg in the stable.

So now the Sword Saint rode a chestnut horse instead.

He looked at Zheng Fan and smiled.

“Rare to see you dressed like this.”

“Well? Do I look like a Qian feudal prince?”

“A Qian feudal prince wouldn’t dare hold his waist this straight.”

“There’s a demon beast in the Tianduan Mountains called the Black Jackal. Its nature is cunning. Quite similar to mine.”

“How so?”

“Once it gets its way, it runs wild. After finally struggling all the way to the point where I can stand upright and ride over others openly, why would I ever bend this waist again? All right. Let’s go while the rain is still light. Old Chancellor Han is over eighty. If a downpour drenches him and he keels over dead the moment he returns, this Prince would feel like I won without honor.”

“If that actually happens, once you win, the story will probably become that Chancellor Han was frightened to death by Prince Pingxi.”

“Then everybody wins.”

“Oh? How do the Qian win?”

“No. I win twice.”

...

According to tradition, both sides should have sent out small detachments to sweep the ground where the two commanders would meet.

But on the Qian side...

Chancellor Han had arrived early and was already waiting beneath his command banner.

He had skipped that step entirely.

Even so... the Yan still sent eight hundred cavalry to sweep a full circuit around the Qian command banner.

Only after confirming there was no trick did the cavalry withdraw.

Then Prince Pingxi and the Sword Saint slowly rode out.

Beneath the Qian command banner, Chancellor Han sat dressed in a white scholar’s robe.

A long white beard flowed down his chest, and he possessed an imposing dignity all his own.

Beside him stood a young boy holding the flagpole.

Wind and rain forced the boy to narrow his eyes, but he could still make out Prince Pingxi approaching on the back of his Pixiu.

The boy opened his mouth.

A smile appeared.

“What are you smiling at?” Han Sui asked.

“Prince Pingxi.”

A man born among the common people had climbed step by step to his present height and now shook all Xia with his name.

Prince Pingxi had long since ceased to be merely an idol among Yan children.

In the language of a later age, he had broken out of his circle entirely.

“Look at you,” Han Sui scolded. “You are born of imperial blood. Do you need to admire him like those commoners?”

The boy smiled.

“Old Chancellor, I descend from Emperor Taizu. I may be worse off than a commoner.”

The boy’s father was Prince Rui of Qian.

He himself was Prince Rui’s Heir, Zhao Mugou.

Prince Rui belonged to the direct legitimate line of Great Qian’s founding Emperor Taizu.

Prince Rui’s fief lay in Han Sui’s home region.

After retiring, Han Sui had used his own status to forcibly rally an army to rescue the throne.

As a member of the imperial clan, Prince Rui naturally ought to contribute.

But his health was poor.

Rumor said he had been confined to bed by illness for two years.

So he sent his own heir to Han Sui’s side to represent Prince Rui Residence.

What sort of life Emperor Taizu’s descendants had lived over the past century was obvious to anyone with eyes.

If feudal Princes like Prince Fu merely lived cautiously, then Emperor Taizu’s direct line—Prince Rui Residence—had spent generations sleeping on the edge of a blade.

Prince Pingxi and the Sword Saint arrived.

Chancellor Han stood.

“Greetings, Prince Pingxi of Yan.”

“Greetings, Old Chancellor Han.”

“Zhao Mugou, Heir of Prince Rui, pays his respects to Prince Pingxi.”

Hearing the introduction, Zheng Fan smiled and nodded toward the flag-bearing boy.

Through his conversations with Zhao Yuannian these past days, he naturally knew exactly what sort of background Prince Rui Residence possessed.

Beside him, the Sword Saint drove Great Yan’s Black Dragon Banner directly into the ground.

Then he folded his arms around Longyuan, half closed his eyes, and began to nap.

The Baili Sword was not here.

The great Sword Saint’s opposite number was merely a child.

Fortunately, the Sword Saint had long grown accustomed to this sort of “awkward” situation.

He had also stopped caring about things like reputation long ago.

Chancellor Han looked at the Qian-style python robe Zheng Fan wore and smiled.

“Is Prince Pingxi planning to submit to our Great Qian and enter Great Qian’s service?”

It was merely a joke.

But Prince Pingxi nodded.

“Chancellor Han speaks truly. This Prince was thinking exactly that.”

“Oh? Then if our Emperor learns of this, His Majesty will certainly be overjoyed!”

Prince Pingxi raised a hand and pointed toward the flag-bearing boy beside Chancellor Han.

“Eh? What do you mean? Isn’t Great Qian’s Emperor standing right here?”

[End of Chapter 855]