The dragon vein of Taijing is a beauty, truly.
Taijing lies to the south of Qing River and was backed by a range of mountains to the north.
The Wei River run through the city, lined with thousands of willows and pavilions stretching for miles.
The official roads and rest stations were bustling ceaselessly, with people hurrying along, carts and horses visible everywhere. Besides merchant caravans, there were scholars traveling for studies and young nobles out to enjoy the spring.
The willow fluff floated like snow, drifting in the air.
The spring plums have faded, leaving branches full of fresh green buds, and the earth was newly green.
The tracks of the carriages were pressed one upon another. Along the banks of the Wei River, there were forests of flowers, and one could see ornate screens encircling the paths, with the sound of laughter coming from within, and one or two paper kites flying in the sky.
“Are we nearing Taijing?”
Mo Li noticed the increasing number of people on the road, all apparently eager to enter the city.
Though it was still early, no one dared to linger too long to enjoy the spring, fearing a delay in their journey.
“Indeed, the part of our journey where we could use our lightness skills has ended. We are now less than twenty miles from Taijing, and there are people everywhere,” Meng Qi smiled as he looked at the familiar scenery, finding it matched his memories.
“Doctor, look at these willow trees,” Meng Qi approached the trees by the road.
Mo Li had already noticed them; their trunks were mostly charred black, with only a few branches showing new tender green. This half-charred, half-lush appearance, as if they had survived some calamity, was peculiar.
“…Back then, the Chu and Chen armies engaged in a naval battle on the Qing River, with booming cannons and thick smoke over the river, making it impossible to distinguish friend from foe without close proximity.”
Mo Li was stunned because this was not Meng Qi’s voice.
He turned around and saw a scholar standing in front, talking eloquently to his companions.
“This battle lasted two days and one night. The Chu army had four hundred thousand soldiers, and the Chen army had eight hundred thousand. They fought fiercely, darkening the sky and dimming the sun, with the Qing River littered with remnants of warships. Although it wasn’t as devastating as the Liangjin battle with corpses strewn everywhere, the death toll was no less, only that the bodies sank to the riverbed. Alas, bones turned to sand, and the waters of Qing River grew cold!”
“…”
Mo Li, who had just crossed Qing River, had something to say.
It’s not cold, truly.
“An army of 1.2 million?” Mo Li asked Meng Qi.
He wasn’t particularly concerned with how many skeletons were in Qing River, as that was nearly a decade old event, and no place in the world is devoid of death. To avoid everything would mean staying home and never venturing out.
What Mo Li cared about was Meng Qi’s situation back then.
The mine pits of Silang Mountain buried thousands, greatly affecting the dragon vein of Silang Mountain. Mo Li once thought Qing River did not fall under Taijing’s dragon vein, but now, judging by the spiritual energy, it seemed not to be the case. This segment of Qing River was indeed connected to the earth’s spiritual energy. One hundred and twenty million, even if only one-tenth perished, was a horrifying number.
“Of course not, this is the north, where do so many naval forces come from? Neither the Chen dynasty nor the Chu had them!”
Meng Qi frowned, as if finally finding someone to confide in, and complained, “It’s always like this with military campaigns, exaggerating one’s own forces. I don’t know which era this problem started from, but it’s common. Even if not to intimidate the enemy, it’s to reassure and boost the morale of one’s own troops. Otherwise, hearing about eighty million on the other side would scare the common soldiers sleepless before the battle even starts.”
The scholar, interrupted in his storytelling, showed anger on his face.
“This gentleman here, the Chu army had four hundred thousand, and the Chen army eight hundred thousand, as clearly recorded in the histories!”
“But in those very books, there’s also the term ‘allegedly’,” added a young noble from a passing carriage, joining in the excitement.
The scholar’s face turned red with embarrassment; he had omitted those words to make the story more poignant, intending to then express his feelings through a poem. Exaggerating numbers is common in poetry.
“The Chen dynasty fought a desperate battle, with the Chu army eager to take Taijing. Both sides deployed all their forces. Even if not 1.2 million, there were at least eight hundred thousand involved in this great battle!”
Faced with the scholar’s assertiveness, Meng Qi sighed.
Why should he argue with someone who only knew war from books?
The scholar, mistaking Meng Qi’s reluctance for being at a loss for words, stated righteously, “Such a brutal battle, does it become less lamentable because fewer died? What’s the difference between eighty and one hundred thousand? The war raged, the struggle for power ensued, and then, every household mourned. Isn’t that tragic?”
With Mo Li by his side, Meng Qi felt he had to speak up.
— He didn’t want to be the same as this scholar, but the other party refused to let him go.
“Do you know the width of Qing River? How long is a warship, and how many can it carry? If eight hundred thousand soldiers boarded ships and lined up in a row on the river, how long would they stretch? If limited to the Taijing section of the river, once the Chen and Chu armies were positioned, how far apart could they be?”
The scholar’s eyes widened, unable to find a retort.
“There are people who read extensively, understanding astronomy and geography, capable of stabilizing nations. But some can only recite numbers from books,” laughed the young noble, drawing a crowd to watch the spectacle.
Under pressure, the scholar, with a darkened face, said, “You speak so convincingly, surely you know the answer. I am eager to listen.”
“I dare not,” Meng Qi didn’t reveal the answer, merely stating, “Anyone with a mind to investigate can figure it out. Qing River is not the Yangtze; it’s not that wide. If eight hundred thousand troops boarded ships, the battle would have to shift from naval to land, as the river would be too crowded, ships packed tightly, indistinguishable from one another.”
“How can you be sure of the size and length of the ships?” the scholar argued desperately, “Were you there at the time?”
“Of course, I wasn’t.”
Meng Qi’s response surprised Mo Li, but it was the truth; he hadn’t been part of the Battle of Qing River.
“…But everyone knows, when an army marches, it needs to carry supplies and provisions, build roads through mountains, and bridges over rivers. A large army numbering over fifty thousand, but those actually fighting may not even reach ten thousand. The Chu army, once claimed to be four hundred thousand, was in reality only two hundred thousand, with only fifty thousand elites. These weren’t just naval forces, but also included cavalry and infantry camping on the shores. The Chen army might have been slightly larger, but the actual combatants wouldn’t exceed twenty thousand. The Chen dynasty was at its end, needing to leave troops to defend the city. Where would they find so many people?”
Meng Qi, as a veteran, could confidently say that an army claimed to be four hundred thousand, including even the kitchen staff, was honestly around two hundred thousand.
Back when Meng Qi was defending a city, he had exaggerated a few thousand to tens of thousands.
That was a tenfold exaggeration.
The supposed vast disparity between the Chen army’s eight hundred thousand and the Chu’s four hundred thousand was, in reality, likely just a difference of thirty to fifty men, negligible in the grand scheme of things.
Humiliated, the scholar’s face drained of color, and his companions, though silent, also felt embarrassed.
They walked away, disheartened.
After having his fun, the young noble looked at Meng Qi, bowed, and said, “My family is the Mu family from the east of the city. I see you are a man of learning, not an ordinary person. If you are in trouble, feel free to seek help at the Mu residence.”
He then tossed a jade pendant as a token and left laughing in his carriage.
Mo Li, looking at the jade pendant, wondered aloud, “This person is odd, offering to make acquaintances without even knowing your name or background.”
“The Mu family is the wealthiest in Taijing, and in the whole of Qin,” Meng Qi thought to himself. It wasn’t his learning that impressed; it was his appearance that caught the noble’s interest.
In the fallen Chu dynasty, the preference for beauty hadn’t changed.
In Taijing, everyone admired beauty, not that the less attractive couldn’t get by, but the good-looking got things cheaper.
Meng Qi couldn’t admit that the noble might have given the pendant for his looks, so he calmly said, “Wealthy people often have their quirks.”
“…”
Mo Li thought to himself that Meng Qi wasn’t rich, nor particularly nice.
Quirks weren’t just about money.
“Got sidetracked by that scholar,” Mo Li, looking at the half-charred willows, asked, “Were these trees burnt when the Chen army retreated and set fires?”
“Yes, to block the advancing army, everything outside Taijing was burnt to the ground.”
Despite their charred appearance, these willows sprouted new buds the following year.
When the Chu dynasty was rebuilding the capital and reached this area, everyone was amazed.
“There were rumors then that a true Dragon Emperor presided, bringing revival to all things and the land.” Meng Qi continued as they walked.
The Thousand Willow Path thus became the Charred Willow Path, with the Chu dynasty gone, no one dared to uproot these willows and plant new trees.
“I didn’t expect Lu Zhang to preserve them.”
Mo Li thought the Qi dynasty emperor would have removed these willows, symbols of the Chu dynasty’s fortune.
“Whoever controls Taijing is the true Dragon Emperor, so whose willows these really are remains unclear!” Meng Qi said with a hint of sarcasm, dismissively adding, “Let’s go, that Ancestor Qingwu must have already reached Taijing, we shouldn’t fall too far behind.”
Reaching the end of Charred Willow Path, they saw the towering city walls.
The walls, made of solid gray stone, stretched far, forming the capital of Taijing for over five hundred years.
Mo Li’s gaze wasn’t on the great city but on the distant mountain range.
The peaks rose and fell in an ancient, rugged beauty, resembling a mighty dragon coiled behind Taijing.
Shangyun Mountain, formerly known as Zong Mountain, has nineteen peaks, abundant water sources, and is known for its waterfalls and springs.
On sunny days, rainbows are said to hang in the air, creating a breathtaking scene against the lush mountains, a beauty even evident from afar.
Scholars from past dynasties left many poems praising it. The beauty of its mountains could be seen even from a distance.
Mo Li instinctively moved towards the mountains.
“Hey, young man, you need to line up to enter the city!” someone nearby called out.
Author’s Note:
In the Battle of Red Cliffs, Cao Cao claimed to have eight hundred thousand troops, but in reality…
————
Was the first successful seduction by beauty achieved by its dragon’s form?
Of course not, it was the mountains【…running away holding head】
The dragon vein of Taijing is a beauty, truly.
Taijing lies to the south of Qing River and was backed by a range of mountains to the north.
The Wei River run through the city, lined with thousands of willows and pavilions stretching for miles.
The official roads and rest stations were bustling ceaselessly, with people hurrying along, carts and horses visible everywhere. Besides merchant caravans, there were scholars traveling for studies and young nobles out to enjoy the spring.
The willow fluff floated like snow, drifting in the air.
The spring plums have faded, leaving branches full of fresh green buds, and the earth was newly green.
The tracks of the carriages were pressed one upon another. Along the banks of the Wei River, there were forests of flowers, and one could see ornate screens encircling the paths, with the sound of laughter coming from within, and one or two paper kites flying in the sky.
“Are we nearing Taijing?”
Mo Li noticed the increasing number of people on the road, all apparently eager to enter the city.
Though it was still early, no one dared to linger too long to enjoy the spring, fearing a delay in their journey.
“Indeed, the part of our journey where we could use our lightness skills has ended. We are now less than twenty miles from Taijing, and there are people everywhere,” Meng Qi smiled as he looked at the familiar scenery, finding it matched his memories.
“Doctor, look at these willow trees,” Meng Qi approached the trees by the road.
Mo Li had already noticed them; their trunks were mostly charred black, with only a few branches showing new tender green. This half-charred, half-lush appearance, as if they had survived some calamity, was peculiar.
“…Back then, the Chu and Chen armies engaged in a naval battle on the Qing River, with booming cannons and thick smoke over the river, making it impossible to distinguish friend from foe without close proximity.”
Mo Li was stunned because this was not Meng Qi’s voice.
He turned around and saw a scholar standing in front, talking eloquently to his companions.
“This battle lasted two days and one night. The Chu army had four hundred thousand soldiers, and the Chen army had eight hundred thousand. They fought fiercely, darkening the sky and dimming the sun, with the Qing River littered with remnants of warships. Although it wasn’t as devastating as the Liangjin battle with corpses strewn everywhere, the death toll was no less, only that the bodies sank to the riverbed. Alas, bones turned to sand, and the waters of Qing River grew cold!”
“…”
Mo Li, who had just crossed Qing River, had something to say.
It’s not cold, truly.
“An army of 1.2 million?” Mo Li asked Meng Qi.
He wasn’t particularly concerned with how many skeletons were in Qing River, as that was nearly a decade old event, and no place in the world is devoid of death. To avoid everything would mean staying home and never venturing out.
What Mo Li cared about was Meng Qi’s situation back then.
The mine pits of Silang Mountain buried thousands, greatly affecting the dragon vein of Silang Mountain. Mo Li once thought Qing River did not fall under Taijing’s dragon vein, but now, judging by the spiritual energy, it seemed not to be the case. This segment of Qing River was indeed connected to the earth’s spiritual energy. One hundred and twenty million, even if only one-tenth perished, was a horrifying number.
“Of course not, this is the north, where do so many naval forces come from? Neither the Chen dynasty nor the Chu had them!”
Meng Qi frowned, as if finally finding someone to confide in, and complained, “It’s always like this with military campaigns, exaggerating one’s own forces. I don’t know which era this problem started from, but it’s common. Even if not to intimidate the enemy, it’s to reassure and boost the morale of one’s own troops. Otherwise, hearing about eighty million on the other side would scare the common soldiers sleepless before the battle even starts.”
The scholar, interrupted in his storytelling, showed anger on his face.
“This gentleman here, the Chu army had four hundred thousand, and the Chen army eight hundred thousand, as clearly recorded in the histories!”
“But in those very books, there’s also the term ‘allegedly’,” added a young noble from a passing carriage, joining in the excitement.
The scholar’s face turned red with embarrassment; he had omitted those words to make the story more poignant, intending to then express his feelings through a poem. Exaggerating numbers is common in poetry.
“The Chen dynasty fought a desperate battle, with the Chu army eager to take Taijing. Both sides deployed all their forces. Even if not 1.2 million, there were at least eight hundred thousand involved in this great battle!”
Faced with the scholar’s assertiveness, Meng Qi sighed.
Why should he argue with someone who only knew war from books?
The scholar, mistaking Meng Qi’s reluctance for being at a loss for words, stated righteously, “Such a brutal battle, does it become less lamentable because fewer died? What’s the difference between eighty and one hundred thousand? The war raged, the struggle for power ensued, and then, every household mourned. Isn’t that tragic?”
With Mo Li by his side, Meng Qi felt he had to speak up.
— He didn’t want to be the same as this scholar, but the other party refused to let him go.
“Do you know the width of Qing River? How long is a warship, and how many can it carry? If eight hundred thousand soldiers boarded ships and lined up in a row on the river, how long would they stretch? If limited to the Taijing section of the river, once the Chen and Chu armies were positioned, how far apart could they be?”
The scholar’s eyes widened, unable to find a retort.
“There are people who read extensively, understanding astronomy and geography, capable of stabilizing nations. But some can only recite numbers from books,” laughed the young noble, drawing a crowd to watch the spectacle.
Under pressure, the scholar, with a darkened face, said, “You speak so convincingly, surely you know the answer. I am eager to listen.”
“I dare not,” Meng Qi didn’t reveal the answer, merely stating, “Anyone with a mind to investigate can figure it out. Qing River is not the Yangtze; it’s not that wide. If eight hundred thousand troops boarded ships, the battle would have to shift from naval to land, as the river would be too crowded, ships packed tightly, indistinguishable from one another.”
“How can you be sure of the size and length of the ships?” the scholar argued desperately, “Were you there at the time?”
“Of course, I wasn’t.”
Meng Qi’s response surprised Mo Li, but it was the truth; he hadn’t been part of the Battle of Qing River.
“…But everyone knows, when an army marches, it needs to carry supplies and provisions, build roads through mountains, and bridges over rivers. A large army numbering over fifty thousand, but those actually fighting may not even reach ten thousand. The Chu army, once claimed to be four hundred thousand, was in reality only two hundred thousand, with only fifty thousand elites. These weren’t just naval forces, but also included cavalry and infantry camping on the shores. The Chen army might have been slightly larger, but the actual combatants wouldn’t exceed twenty thousand. The Chen dynasty was at its end, needing to leave troops to defend the city. Where would they find so many people?”
Meng Qi, as a veteran, could confidently say that an army claimed to be four hundred thousand, including even the kitchen staff, was honestly around two hundred thousand.
Back when Meng Qi was defending a city, he had exaggerated a few thousand to tens of thousands.
That was a tenfold exaggeration.
The supposed vast disparity between the Chen army’s eight hundred thousand and the Chu’s four hundred thousand was, in reality, likely just a difference of thirty to fifty men, negligible in the grand scheme of things.
Humiliated, the scholar’s face drained of color, and his companions, though silent, also felt embarrassed.
They walked away, disheartened.
After having his fun, the young noble looked at Meng Qi, bowed, and said, “My family is the Mu family from the east of the city. I see you are a man of learning, not an ordinary person. If you are in trouble, feel free to seek help at the Mu residence.”
He then tossed a jade pendant as a token and left laughing in his carriage.
Mo Li, looking at the jade pendant, wondered aloud, “This person is odd, offering to make acquaintances without even knowing your name or background.”
“The Mu family is the wealthiest in Taijing, and in the whole of Qin,” Meng Qi thought to himself. It wasn’t his learning that impressed; it was his appearance that caught the noble’s interest.
In the fallen Chu dynasty, the preference for beauty hadn’t changed.
In Taijing, everyone admired beauty, not that the less attractive couldn’t get by, but the good-looking got things cheaper.
Meng Qi couldn’t admit that the noble might have given the pendant for his looks, so he calmly said, “Wealthy people often have their quirks.”
“…”
Mo Li thought to himself that Meng Qi wasn’t rich, nor particularly nice.
Quirks weren’t just about money.
“Got sidetracked by that scholar,” Mo Li, looking at the half-charred willows, asked, “Were these trees burnt when the Chen army retreated and set fires?”
“Yes, to block the advancing army, everything outside Taijing was burnt to the ground.”
Despite their charred appearance, these willows sprouted new buds the following year.
When the Chu dynasty was rebuilding the capital and reached this area, everyone was amazed.
“There were rumors then that a true Dragon Emperor presided, bringing revival to all things and the land.” Meng Qi continued as they walked.
The Thousand Willow Path thus became the Charred Willow Path, with the Chu dynasty gone, no one dared to uproot these willows and plant new trees.
“I didn’t expect Lu Zhang to preserve them.”
Mo Li thought the Qi dynasty emperor would have removed these willows, symbols of the Chu dynasty’s fortune.
“Whoever controls Taijing is the true Dragon Emperor, so whose willows these really are remains unclear!” Meng Qi said with a hint of sarcasm, dismissively adding, “Let’s go, that Ancestor Qingwu must have already reached Taijing, we shouldn’t fall too far behind.”
Reaching the end of Charred Willow Path, they saw the towering city walls.
The walls, made of solid gray stone, stretched far, forming the capital of Taijing for over five hundred years.
Mo Li’s gaze wasn’t on the great city but on the distant mountain range.
The peaks rose and fell in an ancient, rugged beauty, resembling a mighty dragon coiled behind Taijing.
Shangyun Mountain, formerly known as Zong Mountain, has nineteen peaks, abundant water sources, and is known for its waterfalls and springs.
On sunny days, rainbows are said to hang in the air, creating a breathtaking scene against the lush mountains, a beauty even evident from afar.
Scholars from past dynasties left many poems praising it. The beauty of its mountains could be seen even from a distance.
Mo Li instinctively moved towards the mountains.
“Hey, young man, you need to line up to enter the city!” someone nearby called out.
Author’s Note:
In the Battle of Red Cliffs, Cao Cao claimed to have eight hundred thousand troops, but in reality…
————
Was the first successful seduction by beauty achieved by its dragon’s form?
Of course not, it was the mountains【…running away holding head】
