BEGW C65

Chapter 65

Seeing him stop and freeze in place, Ying Changchuan, who was standing behind with apparent indifference, said slowly, “Has my beloved minister finished the calculation?”

Jiang Yuxun’s fingers stiffened. At last, he forcibly cast aside the messy, tangled thoughts in his head. Feigning calm, he said, “Not yet. I beg Your Majesty to wait a moment longer.”

In the rear garden of Xianyou Palace, everyone lowered their eyes and did not dare breathe too loudly. Even their breaths were drawn out so light, they could not be lighter.

It seemed as though some invisible barrier had separated Jiang Yuxun and Ying Changchuan from all others, as though they existed in two entirely different worlds.

In an instant, Jiang Yuxun’s brain turned into a mass of gluey paste.

A muddle of numbers floated and scattered in his mind, by turns near and far; yet he could not seize a single one.

Stop entertaining foolish thoughts!

Jiang Yuxun forcibly gathered his concentration again, resting his fingers over the abacus beads.

He forced his gaze downward, dragging his eyes heavily like metal, and with a mechanical stiffness began tapping the abacus against the price list.

After a time, he finally reported a number.

“…Young Master Xing’s pricing poses no issue.”

The clear and mellow voice was like a single drop of water falling from a high eave, shattering the silence in the air.

Jiang Yuxun let out a subtle breath of relief.

“Yes, my lord.” After waiting half the day, Xing Zhi was at last reassured. He stepped forward, took the price list carefully from Jiang Yuxun’s hands with both of his own, then glanced at him, before casting an uncertain look back at Ying Changchuan.

“Then if that is so, Lord Jiang… this humble commoner shall take his leave now?”

He added tentatively, “I must go to the Office of Seals and Inscriptions to reconcile the accounts.”

That stray thought from before was like an eyelash fallen into one’s eye.

Not easy to blow away, and always leaving a lingering itch.

Seeing Xing Zhi about to depart, Jiang Yuxun subconsciously bit his lip and said without thinking, “Wait—I will go with Young Master Xing.”

He turned to bow to Ying Changchuan, not even knowing how he muddle‑headedly removed himself from the garden.

When they were nearly at the gates of the Office of Seals and Inscriptions, Xing Zhi finally could not resist asking curiously: “Lord Jiang, His Majesty, he—” Had His Majesty perhaps decided when he would go to Zherou to sell wine?

Jiang Yuxun, dazed the whole way, was suddenly vaulted awake by the words “His Majesty.”

…Did Xing Zhi also think so?

All at once, Jiang Yuxun stopped, turned toward Xing Zhi, and gravely shook his head: “His Majesty is not.”

Those words, he spoke both for Xing Zhi and to reassure himself.

Wasn’t Ying Changchuan known throughout history as an avowed asexual? Besides, he had always delighted in teasing people.

What nonsense had I just been thinking?

Regret surged within Jiang Yuxun.

“Eh?”

Hearing Jiang Yuxun’s abrupt words, Xing Zhi was at a loss—he had not even finished speaking, yet how did Lord Jiang know what he had intended to ask?

Perceiving Jiang Yuxun’s distracted state, he remained puzzled in heart, but nonetheless nodded lightly. “Yes, Lord Jiang, this commoner understands.”

…Forget it. Next time, I shall ask again.

“Mm,” recovering his composure, Jiang Yuxun finally recalled he still had work to do. He did not enter the Office of Seals and Inscriptions but instead said to Xing Zhi, “Go on ahead. I must return to Liuyun Hall for some business.”

“All right, all right.” Xing Zhi nodded eagerly. “Lord Jiang, please don’t delay your matters.”

“Mm.” Jiang Yuxun smiled faintly, then turned toward the other side of the Office compound.

Catching sight from the corner of his eye, Xing Zhi, who was just about to enter the gate, paused in puzzlement.

…No, wait.

Did Lord Jiang not just say he would return to Xianyou Palace?

Why does it look as if he’s headed the opposite way?

Next moment, Xing Zhi forced himself to reason: Impossible! Lord Jiang has dwelled in Xianyou Palace for a year—he must know the grounds like the back of his hand, how could he lose his bearings?

Yet to his astonishment, Jiang Yuxun turned back around, returned to the Office gate, and with slight embarrassment smiled, saying, “I was absent‑minded a moment ago and nearly went the wrong way.”

Xing Zhi: ?!

Some time ago, Jiang Yuxun had advised Ying Changchuan to search widely across the Great Zhou for men proficient in agriculture, mathematics, medicine, and such disciplines; to compile the knowledge circulating among the people into edited volumes that might someday serve as textbooks.

Now, the first batch of such individuals had already been gathered in the capital Zhao, and their compiling work had begun early on.

To ensure these men of the Five Lakes and Four Seas could live at ease, the court had allocated estates to them near Zhao.

So spurred, their efficiency only grew higher.

In not much time, the front hall of Liuyun Hall was piled high with all manner of manuscripts.

During this period, many bizarre events were not lacking.

It was plain to see the court was gathering talent from all quarters.

Each local official strove mightily to seize this chance to flaunt his presence in front of the Son of Heaven.

And so, strange cases abounded…

The Son of Heaven entrusted the matter into Jiang Yuxun’s hands; the selection of these men lay wholly at his discretion.

As the rosters sent from all over were truly too long, and Jiang Yuxun served both as Palace Attendant and Prefect of the Secretariat, he could only entrust the initial screening to several officials, including Zhuang Youli.

Though Xianyou Palace was not as hot as the mountains below, the sun overhead still burned like fire.

Zhuang Youli, who disliked basking in sunlight, was today so excited that he ran a little as he led Jiang Yuxun toward the nearby Eternal Path Hall.

With him were several officers of the Office of Seals and Inscriptions.

As they hurried forward, he exclaimed, brimming with enthusiasm: “Ah Xun, this person is extraordinary indeed! I just saw with my own eyes—the lamp went out, but after a while it lit itself again!”

Another official chimed in: “Yes, yes! If we could master such an art of igniting fire from afar, we could sweep aside all foes upon the battlefield!”

Igniting fire from a distance?

The more Jiang Yuxun listened, the more absurd it seemed.

Before he could respond to such nonsense, the excited Zhuang Youli pressed his hands against the hall doors and swung them wide open.

At once, a great bronze candelabrum appeared before Jiang Yuxun’s eyes.

Beside it sat an elder with white beard and hair, who, seeing them enter, merely lifted his eyelids, offering not even a verbal greeting.

So aloof and mysterious was his bearing that Zhuang Youli lowered his voice reverently: “Ah Xun, this is the master who commands the art of ‘igniting fire from afar.’”

As the words fell, he turned and bowed earnestly toward the old man: “Might Master be willing to demonstrate his peerless skill for Lord Jiang?”

After pondering a while, the elder, full of reluctance, at length nodded. “Hmm… prepare the lampstand.”

Hearing this, the attendant palace servants helped him rise and led him slowly toward the stand of candles.

Jiang Yuxun yielded space to him, his brow furrowed as he regarded the lamp.

As a man from the modern world, he of course did not believe in such “igniting fire from afar.” Yet he inclined his head politely: “Master, please proceed.”

The elder glanced at the attendants.

They at once clustered round, lighting every candle.

“Lord Jiang, look!” cried one official, “all the candles have been lit!”

Now the chamber’s doors and windows were tightly shut—hard for even the hint of wind to enter.

The giant tree‑shaped bronze lamp, once lit, heated the surrounding air.

When the flames burned at their fullest, the servants moved again, taking huge silk fans and roughly fanning the flames.

Abruptly, every candle was snuffed out, leaving only faint wisps of smoke rising.

At once, Zhuang Youli gripped Jiang Yuxun’s arm. “It begins, it begins—!”

As he spoke, the old man, standing three or four paces away, slowly approached the candelabrum.

Lifting his hand, he waved, as though striking palms into the air, while uttering cries of “Heh! Ha!”—his silvery hair shaking with each sound.

What in heaven’s name?

The spectacle startled Jiang Yuxun; retreating a half‑step, he glanced questioningly at Zhuang Youli, whispering: “What is he doing?”

“This is the master’s secret palm technique! He uses inner strength to rekindle the flames.”

“…Inner strength?”

The elder looked nothing like any martial adept…

Even as he thought this, the motions of the old man grew ever more erratic.

But with them, one candle on the bronze stand suddenly flared alight again.

“It worked! It really worked!” cried an official in ecstasy. “The extinguished candle has rekindled!”

The old man smiled, still playing the guise of reclusive sage, flinging his hands dramatically toward the candelabrum.

His movements grew even grander, ever more theatrical.

Jiang Yuxun pressed his lips together, stepping closer one pace at a time.

At first he had no clue, but the exaggerated hand‑flinging and faint acrid smell in the air awakened his suspicion.

—What palm technique?

It was nothing more than a conjurer’s trick!

Halting before the stand, he raised his hand to stop the old man: “One moment.”

“Huh?” Everyone looked toward him in confusion. “What is it, Lord Jiang?”

The old man also paused, retreating unwillingly half a step.

Yet Jiang Yuxun ignored the candles, striding instead directly to the “martial patriarch.”

“I ask that you extend your hand for me to see.” Too impatient to waste time, he said bluntly, “To my knowledge, sulfur can cause candles to reignite. Is it not, Master, that you have concealed some in your fingernails for your trick?”

At this point, Jiang Yuxun had wholly recognized it.

The man was performing the traditional street illusion known as “rekindling a candle after extinguishment.”¹

The game was simple: conceal sulfur under the fingernails, flicking it into the wick without notice, where it would soon relight.

Since gunpowder had only just begun to be studied, “sulfur” was unfamiliar to most.

Thus, none among them—including Zhuang Youli—had connected the matter.

“What do you mean, Lord Jiang?” the man retorted, hiding his hand behind his back. “Are you accusing my palm technique?”

Jiang Yuxun gave him no face at all. “Accusing you? Precisely so.”

The flickering candlelight threw shadows uneven on his face. Sharpened by a year’s tempering at the emperor’s side, his bearing was unlike before.

“You—” The man’s face darkened in fury. “If the court has no use for me, let me go. Why humiliate me thus?” With that, he swept his sleeve to turn away.

“Eh, master, don’t leave!” An official reached out to stop him, only to feel his arm trembling ever harder—was that genuine guilt?

Jiang Yuxun showed no patience for him. Instead, he turned to the Seal Office guards: “Search his fingers.”

“Yes, Lord Jiang!”

Seeing them about to expose him, the old fraud panicked. “Lord Jiang, what is the meaning of this?” he cried, rubbing his hands anxiously against his robe.

But before he could rub the evidence away, the guards pried apart his hands.

“Ow! Mercy, mercy, my lord!”

Unlike the credulous officials, the guards who had handled gunpowder instantly sniffed the truth: “Reporting, Lord Jiang—the substance upon his hand is indeed sulfur!”

“Sulfur?” The officials gaped at one another in confusion.

And the charlatan collapsed to the ground, wailing, “Spare me, Lord Jiang, spare me—!”

Tears and snot ran freely, throwing the Hall into uproar.

Though they scarcely grasped what sulfur was, the man’s panic made the truth plain: Jiang Yuxun was right, he had deceived them with a trick!

Zhuang Youli, stung, muttered bitterly:

“Among the hundreds on this roster, is there not a single reliable one? All either charlatans or boasters! How could the counties dare send such to Zhao?”

Jiang Yuxun too sighed faintly.

“This time, the court placed no limit on which trades nor on how many men each county might report. Thus local officials sent whomever they could. If fortune smiled, a blind cat might catch a dead rat and claim credit. If unlucky, and no talent found, they lose nothing.”

Finding a single pearl in the sea was no easy task—but with no restrictions, at least the net might catch all that was to be found.

Seeing the others weary and dispirited, Jiang Yuxun stepped past the still‑sobbing fraud and took up the roster from the dais, scanning swiftly.

“Lord Jiang, perhaps begin from the back,” an official reminded. “The front pages we’ve sorted already; most there seek empty renown.”

“Good,” said Jiang Yuxun. Just as he turned the page, his finger halted. “…Guan Shiming?”

At once, he looked at the officials, his words suddenly rapid and urgent: “This Guan Shiming—what situation?”

Startled by such eagerness, one quickly replied, “That one is a carpenter. Yet he cannot draw diagrams, and when speaking he stammers, unable to tell clearly what skill he possesses.”

Zhuang Youli added: “Yes. For fear of missing potential, we told him to craft what he does best. Yet days have passed and nothing shown.”

A carpenter from Guifeng Commandery!

Hearing this, Jiang Yuxun instantly confirmed. This was destined to become the great craftsman of his age—Guan Shiming.

Though in youth he had gained some village renown, chaos soon drove him restless and rootless until he died early.

Only afterward, men found many remarkable models and devices in his home; these were copied, spread, and glorified unto later ages.

Now, with no world in turmoil, how could Jiang Yuxun watch such talent be buried?

A dread of loss struck him.

“Is he still in Zhao?” Jiang Yuxun’s voice near to trembling.

“Yes, my lord.”

Jiang Yuxun let go a breath of relief. At once he commanded the guards: “Go today. Bring this Master Guan Shiming to Xianyou.”

“Yes, Lord!” They bowed and withdrew at once.

Although often duped, Zhuang Youli and the others still worked with extreme care. The ledger in Jiang Yuxun’s hands held not only names but also dense annotations.

The Eternal Path Hall hushed quiet. Jiang Yuxun set aside further matters, sat at the desk, and examined line by line, questioning details here and there.

Not until deep night did he finally leave.

“…So hungry.”

Back in his quarters, having missed his mealtime, Jiang Yuxun dropped himself upon his couch.

Rubbing his belly, he rose to drink a large cup of water.

Yet the hunger only sharpened. It stirred the thought in his mind—was there not still food in his room?

“Oh yes!” he murmured. “The braised meat Xing Zhi gave me is still here.”

He hurried to the door, ready to summon a servant for bowl and chopsticks.

But as soon as he pushed it open, he halted.

The rear halls of Liuyun Hall had poor insulation.

Anything he spoke would reach Ying Changchuan’s ears.

If he ate alone, it might be no issue; but part of the meat had been meant for the emperor himself.

Better bring some to him first, then return for my own supper.

He bit his lip in hesitation, then turned toward the neighboring hall with the parcel of food.

…

The rear hall doors of Liuyun Hall stood half open, moonlight pouring in, submerging the lamplight.

Seated before the table, Jiang Yuxun said eagerly: “Your Majesty must taste this! Young Master Xing paid dearly for the secret recipe—it will not resemble your usual fare.”

The soy‑braised delicacies still wrapped tight in oil‑paper and lotus leaves, Eunuch Sang had not yet set out bowls.

Jiang Yuxun took the chance to explain: “It is not seasoned with salt, vinegar, sauce, and sugar alone, but rather stewed with star anise, amomum, cassia bark, and others. Surely it will sweep through Zhao in no time.”

Hearing this, Ying Changchuan casually poured him wine. “Does my beloved minister intend to sell it in the taverns?”

“Exactly.” At mention of the tavern, Jiang Yuxun’s eyes shone. “It is perfect alongside wine. If Your Majesty doubts—try shortly and you will know.”

He sipped at once his fruit wine.

Brewed from millet, the fiery liquor was fresh on the tongue; with bayberries, it carried crisp fruit and slight sweet‑sour overtones.

Even the transparent liquor tinged faint red.

Jiang Yuxun meant only to taste—but was at once so enamored he downed half a cup.

Ying Changchuan was never one for fine foods, yet under his minister’s urging he felt a flicker of interest. “Then solitary must try it carefully.”

At that, Eunuch Sang entered with servants, smiling: “Since such fine fare accompanies the drink, Lord Jiang must in turn accompany His Majesty for more than a few cups.”

“No, no—” Jiang Yuxun waved his hand hastily, muttering through clenched jaw: “My tolerance is poor. I dare not shame myself before the Son of Heaven.”

The emperor’s lips curved upward faintly.

Eunuch Sang worked swiftly; soon the bowls on the table, the wrappings opened, meat laid out in green‑glazed porcelain platters.

After brief words, they withdrew.

“Your Majesty must taste,” Jiang Yuxun urged, hungry himself yet more eager to see Ying Changchuan’s reaction. “See if it matches my words.”

That little murmur of hunger earlier had not escaped the emperor’s ears.

Now, the cold moonlit gleam shone in his dark eyes, laying bare all his minister’s earnest heart.

With gracious approval, he lifted his jade chopsticks, smiling gently: “You as well.”

“Yes, Majesty.” Unreserved, Jiang Yuxun reached and raised a slice to his lips.

But instantly—something was wrong.

The flavor had soured.

Sniffing deeply, he realized—spoiled!

Though perhaps ancient men, unaccustomed to spiced foods, could not discern it, Jiang Yuxun, of modern knowledge, recognized in moments: the braised meat had gone bad!

Xianyou Palace was but a summer retreat, not an icehouse.

After a day’s keeping, the meat had turned.

He set down his chopsticks by reflex.

In the corner of his eye—Ying Changchuan had already picked up lotus root.

Jiang Yuxun: !!!

This could not be allowed!

To serve the emperor food gone off—such disaster never before heard!

In an age of primitive medicine, minor illness could turn mortal.

The health of princes and nobles, guarded to supreme lengths—how could this slip occur?

If Ying Changchuan ate, was it not tantamount to treason?

…Not only himself, but even poor Xing Zhi would face annihilation of nine clans.²

“Your Majesty—!”

Alarmed, Jiang Yuxun slammed forward, hand bracing on the table, body lunging forth.

His movement, panicked and large, intercepted before Ying Changchuan could act—his fingertips struck against the emperor’s jade chopsticks.

And brushed lightly across his chin.

At once the emperor’s movement froze.

That instant of touch sent tingling across his skin, as if current flowed outward.

Jiang Yuxun’s breath tripped wildly.

His palm now pressed against the emperor’s hand.

A warmth diffused subtly between them.

Hearing Jiang Yuxun exhale relief, Ying Changchuan slowly raised his gaze, while the minister said with guilty softness: “Forgive me, Majesty… I felt the food perhaps spoiled. Might we forego it tonight?”

What insolence, to bar the emperor’s mouth so.

Yet the thought of making the Son of Heaven eat rotten fare filled him with shame.

What he presented so proudly was but refuse—hadn’t he already committed lèse‑majesté?

The emperor, instead of fury, smiled faintly. “It matters not.”

Still, he made no move to set aside his chopsticks.

Though those words soothed, Jiang Yuxun remained restless, curling his fingers, accidentally brushing skin yet again, then recoiling quickly as though burned.

The warmth diffused and faded, and Ying Changchuan frowned, looking curiously to his own fingers.

Jiang Yuxun, searching his expression nervously, wondered: Was he smiling outwardly but bearing a hidden blade?

Could not hold back from asking: “Majesty truly is not angered?”

For once, Jiang Yuxun wilted, timid where normally brash.

Amused, Ying Changchuan asked: “Why does my minister doubt Solitary?”

Overhead a white egret crossed, scattering moonlight on Liuyun Hall’s threshold.

Reflected also in Jiang Yuxun’s dark eyes, lightly shifting with it.

“…This,” he faltered, speaking his heart, “today I near caused Your Majesty sickness, and yet you remain so kind. However I view it, it feels bewildering.”

“How then should Solitary act?” Ying Changchuan asked, leisurely.

Jiang Yuxun clenched his palm: “Better… that Your Majesty scold me. Punish me in some way.”

The Author Speaks:

Ying Changchuan: I have never seen such a refreshingly unorthodox request.

¹ “Rekindling a candle after extinguishment” (吹灯复明 chui deng fu ming) was a traditional Chinese street trick, using small amounts of sulfur hidden under fingernails to make extinguished candles relight.

² “Annihilation of nine clans” (夷灭九族 yi mie jiu zu): a severe punishment in ancient China, where the offender’s entire extended family network (up to nine degrees of kinship) could be executed for treason.