BEGW C67

Chapter 67

The Son of Heaven seemed to have no intention of changing his habitual way of speaking.

Once there was a first time, naturally there would be a second and a third.

Having once been a modern man, Jiang Yuxun had, before summer was even over, already become entirely immune to the two words “we,” and chose simply to give up resisting.

However, Eunuch Sang and Zhuang Youli, who happened to overhear those two words, were so shocked as if they had seen a ghost and remained unsettled for several days thereafter.

…

The scorching sun blazed high, even the waters of the Lianyi River were heated to near boiling.

The construction along both banks had been forced to a halt, and the plains, for once, sank into a rare moment of tranquility.

Dozens of carriages came from the western end of the official road, moving slowly in the direction of Xianyou Palace.

Although the travelers were covered in dust from their long journey, their faces glowed with rosy vigor, showing not the slightest sign of fatigue.

Upon sighting a familiar checkpoint, one envoy could not help but exclaim excitedly, “We’ve reached Zhaodu at last—!”

Unknowingly, more than half a year had already passed.

Beholding the familiar yet foreign palace complex in the distance, his heart filled with both nervousness and anticipation.

The Khahan man who shared his carriage lifted his gaze toward the Xianyou Palace nestled halfway up the mountain.

The weather was bright and clear that day; from the foot of the mountain, the palace buildings perched high above were half veiled in the clouds, ethereal and magnificent beyond measure.

“…Truly spectacular!” he said in an exaggerated tone, his words thick with a Khahan accent. “Lord Qiu, why did you not tell me sooner that Great Zhou possessed such towering halls?”

The envoy smiled faintly. “This is but a summer retreat of our Great Zhou. The Yuyang Palace located in Zhaodu is hundreds of times more splendid than this.”

His voice carried unmistakable pride, and even as he spoke, he could not help glancing toward the direction of the capital.

The Khahan man widened his eyes. “Even more magnificent?”

The envoy smiled. “Be at ease, Lord Cijia. In a few days’ time, I shall personally take you to Zhaodu and show you properly.”

The murmuring sound of springs merging into streams filled the air, and once they began ascending the mountain, the temperature dropped abruptly.

All the weariness and hardship of the road seemed to vanish in an instant.

The carriages left the official road, turning along the hillside.

The minister from Khahan adjusted his ceremonial robes with one hand, speaking eagerly, “Excellent, excellent!”

After receiving tea leaves and other specialties from Great Zhou, Khahan had replied with a generous return gift.

Besides the horses Jiang Yuxun had originally desired, there were also many cattle, sheep, and medicinal herbs native to the frigid highlands.

The dozens of carriages were all packed full, the list of gifts stretching on seemingly without end.

Not only Khahan—the western states had responded even faster than Jiang Yuxun had expected.

Wheat and vegetable seeds from Qiaoluo, as well as exotic birds and beasts from the Western Regions, were all transported in one shipment to Zhaodu.

That evening, within Xianyou Palace—

To welcome the envoys of Khahan, thick carpets had been laid across the floor of Liuyun Hall.

Behind the decorative screens, court musicians were performing piece after piece of music in the distinct style of the Khahan nation.

The banquet tables were piled high with coral, jadeite, and a profusion of rare exotic flowers both known and unknown by name.

Wisps of smoke drifted from the cracks of boshan censers, curling like clouds pouring from the mountain mists into the palace, until one could scarcely tell illusion from reality.

When a song ended, the Khahan performers who had arrived with the envoys stepped barefoot onto the great hall and began dancing joyously to the rhythm.

They even sang along—old Khahan folk songs whose names Jiang Yuxun could not recall.

As it was not a festival occasion, only select officials and the envoys who had journeyed to Khahan attended the imperial banquet.

While the dancers performed, palace maids in formal attire poured strong liquor for the guests.

After two or three rounds of wine, the air inside Liuyun Hall grew ever more exuberant.

This time, Great Zhou had also sent the same strong liquor to Khahan.

But as the quantity was limited, each person there had only tasted a few mouthfuls. The envoy “Cijia” had long been haunted by the memory of it.

Today, he finally had the chance to drink to his heart’s content.

“Lord Jiang, this wine is simply miraculous!” Cijia slurred after several cups, his accent even thicker now, “The first time I tasted it, it was snowing in Khahan—our cattle and sheep refused even to leave their pens. Who could have imagined that one mouthful of this would sweep away every trace of cold from my body!”

His tone was so flamboyant that laughter rippled through the hall.

One attending official, Zhuang Yue, asked curiously, “If I recall correctly, our envoy reached Khahan in late spring. Was it still that cold then?”

Cijia, accustomed to that climate, did not quite know how to explain.

The young envoy who had led the delegation to Khahan, Qiu Enguang, answered in his stead, “Lord Zhuang is not aware—Khahan is encircled by high mountains. Even in summer, one can still see endless snow peaks when looking up.”

His eyes narrowed slightly as he continued, “In the other three seasons, not only does it snow constantly, even the lakes freeze seven chi deep—one could ride horses and drive carriages atop them.”

Having drunk somewhat heavily, Qiu Enguang’s manner grew freer, his words more fluid.

But those in attendance could not help imagining that vast world blanketed in snow.

Unknowingly, Jiang Yuxun had set his cup down, his attention wholly drawn to Qiu Enguang’s words.

Zhuang Yue murmured softly, “…So that’s how it is.”

Though back in Zhaodu now, Qiu Enguang said, “When I close my eyes, I still feel that bone-piercing wind. When sunlight strikes, the thick ice glows faintly blue. Gusts sweep frost across the frozen lake like sandstorms, and from afar it appears as though the clouds themselves have fallen to earth. Walking through it, one can scarcely tell where the heavens end and the waters begin.”

Originally a refined court official raised in comfort, Qiu Enguang had never before known extreme cold.

When appointed head of the mission to Khahan, he had been reluctant.

Yet now, the vistas of that icy land seemed etched permanently into his heart.

Hearing these words, even Zhuang Yue could not help yearning to see such scenery for himself.

The envoy Cijia, half tipsy, then turned toward Ying Changchuan with half-jesting words, “Tea is surely a treasure, but your liquor is its equal! In the future, His Majesty must no longer be so stingy!”

Though phrased lightly, even amid the revelry, he raised the serious matter of trade.

At the head table, the Son of Heaven, dressed in dark ceremonial robes, smiled faintly and put down his golden cup.

Instead of responding directly, Ying Changchuan’s gaze shifted toward Jiang Yuxun.

What does His Majesty mean by this?

The gathered officials could not help but wonder—while Jiang Yuxun felt a prickling unease crawl up his spine.

…Why is Ying Changchuan looking at me now?

He subtly shifted away, but Ying Changchuan said leisurely, “This matter, Lord Cijia, should be discussed with Minister Jiang. There is no need to trouble Gu with it.”

His tone was lightly amused, and he even inclined his head toward Jiang Yuxun.

Unfamiliar with Zhou court etiquette, Cijia suspected nothing. He raised his cup toward Jiang Yuxun across the hall and said warmly, “Then I leave it in your capable hands, Lord Jiang!”

Jiang Yuxun: “…Ah?”

Ying Changchuan, who was usually absolute in decree, had abruptly tossed such a weighty affair onto him—why?

Though inwardly bewildered, since the Son of Heaven himself had spoken, Jiang Yuxun could not afford to falter.

He glanced at Ying Changchuan discreetly, confirming the Emperor was serious, and at last forced himself to respond, “Lord Cijia is overly courteous.”

Then, as the conversation shifted elsewhere, he furtively looked toward Ying Changchuan again.

…Could Ying Changchuan be drunk?

Yet in the glow of the candles, the Emperor’s gray eyes were clear as spring water—there was not the faintest trace of intoxication.

Cijia proved to be quite the talker.

As the evening went on, he praised Great Zhou repeatedly, speaking vividly of Khahan’s customs, and to Jiang Yuxun’s mild exasperation, complimented tea and wine alternately.

Since His Majesty was in good humor, the mood of the banquet only grew livelier.

One official whispered beside Zhuang Yue, “His Majesty truly holds Lord Jiang in high regard—to entrust him even with matters as great as trade negotiations!”

Speaking with enthusiasm, he added, “Lord Jiang is gifted beyond his years—such talent is rare indeed.”

Zhuang Yue stroked his beard and smiled broadly. “No, no, Axun merely performs his duties—that’s all, he deserves no special praise.”

Yet his mouth could not hide the grin spreading across it.

An old colleague clapped him on the shoulder, teasing, “Come now, Lord Zhuang, no need to hide your pride.”

This sparked laughter around the table.

Though strong liquor was no longer quite so rare as last year, it was still precious.

Zhuang Yue, like the others, could not resist another few cups.

Amid conversation, he found his eyes drifting toward the head of the feast.

There sat Jiang Yuxun, clad in summer ceremonial attire beside the Emperor—chatting with him in an oddly casual manner.

Then, as if in petulance, Jiang Yuxun suddenly turned his head away.

Seeing this, the tipsy Zhuang Yue blinked hard.

Strange.

The position of Shangshu Ling (Minister of the Imperial Secretariat) was not so high that one should be seated so close to the Emperor.

As the smoke from the boshan censer drifted under his nose, he coughed, clearing his fogged mind for a moment.

Such an arrangement could only have come at His Majesty’s command; Fei Jinyuan of the Ministry of Revenue would never dare do so otherwise.

He inhaled sharply—

In today’s Great Zhou, from nobles to commoners, everyone knew Jiang Yuxun was the Emperor’s close attendant.

There was no need for His Majesty to make that fact so apparent through something as trivial as seating.

Could it be… that the Emperor simply wished to speak with Axun more closely?

“…How peculiar.”

Once, it had been Zhuang Yue himself who had advised Jiang Yuxun to cultivate his relationship with the sovereign—

Yet now, seeing this scene, a vague unease stirred within his chest.

※

Today was meant to be a rest day. By rights, Jiang Yuxun only needed to attend the evening banquet. Yet he had spent the entire day bustling about within Xianyou Palace.

The country of Qiaoluo had proven more sincere than he expected.

In addition to large quantities of wheat seeds, they had also sent a sack of milled flour.

Great Zhou had never before used ground wheat for cooking, so even the imperial chefs were at a loss as to how to prepare it.

Fearing they might spoil the rare gift, Jiang Yuxun had gone to the imperial kitchens himself and spent half the day experimenting.

By the time the banquet neared its end, a maid in pale green robes entered the hall, carrying a porcelain plate.

A sweet, savory fragrance of meat instantly overpowered the scent of incense from the censers, rousing everyone’s appetite.

“What is this?”

“How delicious it smells!”

The gathered officials straightened eagerly, staring at the porcelain dish—

Upon it sat a round, golden object still steaming from the oil, its surface most appetizingly crisp.

Someone took a cautious sniff. “…Is that beef?”

“Indeed it is!”

Within the Great Zhou, cattle held a special status—not forbidden by law to eat, but still rare enough that even gentry might taste it only a few times a year.

Recognizing the rich beef aroma, their stomachs immediately growled in chorus.

Khahan, beyond horses, had also gifted Great Zhou much cattle and mutton.

None of the officials had expected that they would get to savor it so soon.

“At last!” Even Jiang Yuxun’s eyes brightened at the scent.

He leaned slightly toward Ying Changchuan seated behind him, whispering, “This is the most popular pastry of the Western Regions, the Hu Bing. You must try it, Your Majesty!” Then, as if remembering something, he added, “I spent the entire afternoon preparing these.”

As soon as he finished, Jiang Yuxun realized how furtive he must look—like a schoolboy whispering to a seatmate.

Before he could compose himself, the serving maid had already set the porcelain dish down before them.

The mingled aromas of oil, wheat, and beef flooded through the air, rousing even the tipsy from their haze.

Though impatient to eat, Jiang Yuxun still tried to persuade the Emperor, who disliked greasy foods: “Hu Bing is made from wheat flour; even if Your Majesty dislikes oiliness, you must at least taste the texture of wheat—it’s quite different from grains.”

His tone was all but commanding, as though daring the Emperor to refuse.

To onlookers, the boldness was staggering.

Zhuang Yue, watching from below, broke into a cold sweat, forgetting the pastry altogether—His Majesty abhorred having his decisions questioned! Jiang Yuxun’s behavior was practically courting disaster!

Yet—unexpectedly—

There was not the slightest trace of displeasure on Ying Changchuan’s face.

With interest, he lifted a piece of the pastry using his chopsticks and asked, “How is Hu Bing made?”

He could not have asked a more obliging question.

Eager to promote his creation, Jiang Yuxun said at once, “First, the flour is scalded with hot water, then chopped green onions are mixed in. The dough is rolled by hand into small rounds—”

Fearing the Emperor might not understand, he demonstrated the process with his hands. “Next, minced beef is wrapped inside and pressed flat into a thin cake, then fried until golden brown.”

As he finished, he swallowed involuntarily.

The entire procedure had come from food videos he’d seen in his previous life—he had never made it himself.

Fortunately, though the imperial chefs had no precedent for such a dish, they grasped it quickly and recreated it perfectly.

While Great Zhou had not yet developed stir-frying techniques, cooking methods were remarkably broad: geng (soups), zhi (roasts), jian (pan-fry), ao (slow-boil), zheng (steam), and zha (deep-fry).

Ying Changchuan, by nature, disliked oily foods. In Xianyou Palace, most dishes were light soups or steamed delicacies.

Ordinarily, he never would have tried such a greasy pastry.

But now, meeting the fervent expectation in Jiang Yuxun’s eyes, he found himself unable to refuse.

He did not wish to let the warmth and brightness in those eyes fade.

“Very well.” The Emperor smiled and slowly took a bite.

He had not expected much—but the moment his teeth broke the crisp crust, a fragrant, unfamiliar taste filled his mouth.

His eyes lit up. He chewed thoughtfully.

Before he could even speak, Jiang Yuxun asked eagerly, “Your Majesty, how is it?”

After finishing the piece, Ying Changchuan nodded. “Indeed—crisp on the outside, tender within, savory and fragrant.”

“Exactly!” Jiang Yuxun said, delighted. “Made from flour, it’s soft yet crisp—the flavor far surpasses that of whole grain.”

Perhaps because Ying Changchuan had lately fallen into the habit of saying “we,” Jiang Yuxun himself now behaved with increasing informality.

Seeing that everyone else was busy eating, he boldly picked up the entire dish.

Wheat yields far surpassed millet, and throughout history, countless rulers had sought to make it the staple grain of the north.

Yet such reform had never been easy—it would take hundreds of years.

Although the Hu Bing had received universal praise tonight, recalling the arduous history of wheat’s adoption left Jiang uneasy.

Nibbling as he spoke, he murmured to the Emperor, “…These Hu Bing use much beef; I wonder if people will still like the taste once there’s no meat.”

His smile faded gradually. “Let alone the commoners—they’ll likely have to eat whatever grains they can mix together.”

Worry crept back into his voice.

Though he had hardly eaten, Jiang Yuxun continued fretting about food policy, oblivious to the nearly untouched pastry before him.

He looked up hesitantly. “What does Your Majesty think?”

He expected a reasoned reply—yet Ying Changchuan instead put down his chopsticks with a faint frown. “My beloved subject speaks of feeding the people, yet he hasn’t eaten the food before him. How can one gauge hunger on an empty stomach?”

“…Yes, Your Majesty.”

Obediently, Jiang Yuxun lowered his head and took a proper bite.

Not far away, Zhuang Yue suddenly realized—His Majesty’s tone just then… had it not sounded like urging someone to eat while it was still warm?

No—no, surely he was imagining things after too much drink.

The banquet continued well into the late hours.

As an official under the Ministry of Works, Jiang Yuxun did not retire early but remained behind to organize the gift inventory.

“Lord Jiang, you should go rest,” said a colleague who hadn’t attended the banquet. “Leave this to us.”

“It’s fine,” Jiang replied with a smile, scanning the lists. “I ate more than enough tonight; a little work will help me digest.”

His eyes moved across the red-inked entries—

“‘Two pairs of Qiaoluo fine cats’?” he muttered in puzzlement. “What on earth is that?”

The inventory brimmed with exotic creatures from the Western Regions.

But “fine cats” appearing between “steeds,” “falcons,” and “leopards”? It seemed absurdly out of place.

“Oh, that? Look here!”

The clerk pushed forward a wooden crate and lifted the cloth covering it.

Before Jiang could react, four snow-white kittens with emerald eyes appeared, each wearing a bright red ribbon tied around its neck—clearly gifts indeed.

Jiang reached out instinctively to tease one, but the clerk, far too helpful, lifted the cat out and placed it into Jiang’s arms.

“If you like it, Lord Jiang, keep it. I already asked His Majesty—everything besides the horses will be raised by the palace attendants. If you wish, one shall be given to you.”

“That won’t be necessary—” Jiang hurriedly waved his hand. “I’ve never kept animals, and I’ve nowhere proper to keep it.”

The clerk laughed. “It’s all right. Just hold it for a while if you please.”

Having no choice, Jiang gently cradled the little creature in his arms and moved aside to the doorway to avoid disturbing others.

The cats of Qiaoluo were not only beautiful but astonishingly tame.

This one showed no fear; it sniffed him curiously, then, finding him acceptable, curled up contentedly and closed its eyes.

“So easily asleep?” Jiang chuckled softly, tickling its head with cautious fingers—and suddenly recalled Princess Lianyi’s anecdote.

—That Ying Changchuan had once been scratched by a cat when he was young.

If a princess had raised it as a pet, surely it had not been ill-tempered.

Just how chaotic must His Majesty’s childhood have been to earn a scratch from a kitten?

The thought made Jiang laugh aloud.

Wiggling the tiny paw in his hand he murmured teasingly, “Wake up—let me see how you managed to bite the Emperor.”

The image of the mighty ruler being bullied by a cat filled him with mischievous delight.

The kitten stirred, not fully asleep, blinked at him drowsily, and yawned wide.

Before Jiang could react, it suddenly wriggled free and dashed out of his arms straight toward the doorway.

The movement was so smooth that he froze for a heartbeat, eyes wide.

“Ah! Don’t run—!” he called, instinctively chasing after it.

The kitten, excited by the pursuit, picked up speed, darting along the covered corridor outside Liuyun Hall.

Built over water and connected by long galleries to the rest of Xianyou Palace, the hall offered several paths—and, wary of the river below, the kitten bolted straight toward the back chambers.

Luckily its white fur glowed under the night, allowing him to keep sight of it.

Though Ying Changchuan had shown little interest in it earlier, the creature was an official tribute—he couldn’t simply let it vanish!

The late-summer night wind carried a faint chill, brushing Jiang Yuxun’s face and cooling the heat in his heart.

A foreboding shiver ran through him.

As expected—when one feared something most, it happened.

The rear doors of Liuyun Hall stood unlatched. Seeing no other hiding place, the kitten hesitated—then bolted straight inside.

Jiang stopped dead, realizing the disaster he had unleashed.

One second… two…

Before he could even start dreading the outcome, a tall figure in dark robes appeared before him.

Ying Changchuan stood there, amused, holding the squirming kitten by the scruff as it mewed pitifully.

The little criminal wriggled and pawed the air, crying helplessly toward Jiang for rescue, completely pathetic.

The Emperor looked down idly at the squirming bundle. “And why has it run here?”

Jiang’s heart tightened. “…Perhaps it was weary of my company, Your Majesty.”

Ying Changchuan’s brows arched in interest. “Oh? And why is that?”

The kitten continued to cry in distress, its small limbs flailing uselessly.

Jiang suddenly felt a deep, painful kinship with the creature.

As its pleas echoed through the quiet hall, the young minister, still in formal robes, shut his eyes and squeezed out the words as though dragged from his soul, “This subject… merely wished to test whether it would truly bite Your Majesty… so I tried provoking it…”

Judging by the result, there was no need to test further.

To expect the kitten to bite Ying Changchuan—

he might as well have done it himself.

Footnotes:

Khahan (克寒): A fictional northern foreign state inspired by nomadic cultures.

Boshan censer (博山爐): A type of ornate Han-style incense burner shaped like a sacred mountain, from which smoke rises like drifting clouds.

Gu (孤): A humble self-reference used by emperors in ancient China when referring to themselves.

Hu Bing (胡餅): Literally “barbarian cake,” a term used in ancient China for pastries or flatbreads introduced from Central and Western Asia, roughly akin to fried savory stuffed flatbread today.