“Though kin may still grieve, others are already singing; what’s more to say after death? I’ve entrusted my body to the earth.”2 Duan Ling says with a smile, “Your Majesty, please take care of your health. When I learned of the late emperor’s death, I felt like the world was going to end. But in time I gradually came out of my grief.”
Li Yanqiu gazes at Duan Ling calmly with reddened eyes, and after a long pause he says, “What kind of a person do you think the late emperor was? Wu Du was the one at his side through his final days, waiting on him, so you’re sure to have heard a lot about him.”
Duan Ling ponders this for a little while, but despite how much he racks his brains, he can’t find the most fitting vocabulary to describe his father. He was wise, with an extraordinary bearing, gentle, and patient … just like a mountain, always guiding him in the right direction. No matter how long or how far he walks, whenever he looks up, he can always see that mountain — an exceedingly tall mountain.
But as for the deepest impression Li Jianhong has left on him … Duan Ling says finally, after thinking some more, “He was a fascinating man.”
Li Yanqiu’s face brightens with a smile. “You’re right. He was a fascinating man.”
Duan Ling is smiling as well. Everything about Li Jianhong is encompassed in this single word; there’s already no need to say more.
“It is far more difficult to live a life as a fascinating person in the world than it is to accomplish great deeds and having your name go down in history.” Li Yanqiu says ruefully, “The world may be big, but somehow we won’t be able to find another like him. However, [I](# “Zhen”) do feel very glad every time [I](# “Zhen”) talk to you.”
“Having a chance to speak with Your Majesty also makes [me](# “your servant”) very glad.”
Here Li Yanqiu smiles at him again. That’s when Zheng Yan says from outside, “Your Majesty, your medicine is here.”
Duan Ling doesn’t wait for orders before going to the door to take the medicine from the maid, so he can present it. Then, when Li Yanqiu picks up the bowl, Duan Ling reaches out with two fingers and places them over Li Yanqiu’s pulse. Li Yanqiu glances at Duan Ling, and drinks his medicine without a word.
Duan Ling thinks quietly to himself for a moment. He knows that Li Yanqiu hasn’t been poisoned, or at least his pulse is indicating that his vital signs are normal. But his pulse is faint and weak, and he’s deficient in both blood and qi, a sign of a bad heart that needs medicinal soups to both strengthen his heart and calm his mind.
His diagnosis doesn’t count, though — Wu Du has to be the one to verify whether Li Yanqiu has been poisoned. Even though Wu Du does see Li Yanqiu from time to time, the art of physic requires “see”, “hear”, “communicate”, and “pulse”, but one can usually tell from the colour of someone’s face whether they’ve been hit with a slow-acting poison. There’s no way Wu Du wouldn’t be able to tell.
Duan Ling has made rough conjectures at Mu Kuangda’s scheme, and it’s highly possible that he’s making Mu Jinzhi give Li Yanqiu the same medicinal decoction every day until the day that he decides to kill him; that’s when he’s going to add the poison. This way, Li Yanqiu’s guard will have been lowered, making it impossible to be vigilant against. It’s something he’ll have to drink every day, after all, and it’s hard to see its short-term effects. With so many years ahead of them, if he poisons Li Yanqiu just a few times out of hundreds, Li Yanqiu won’t be able to notice it.
Duan Ling withdraws his fingers and nods. He doesn’t say anything, and Li Yanqiu doesn’t ask him anything either.
“If you hadn’t mentioned the late emperor in the palace exam essay, I would have named you Primus.” Li Yanqiu says with a frown after finishing his medication, “But since you’ve used the late emperor as window dressing, you can’t be Primus any more. All I can do is give you the Tertius title.”
Duan Ling smiles, and holding the edges of his robe, he kneels in front of Li Yanqiu to thank His Majesty’s grace.
“Go home, and let Wu Du know. You can go back to your hometown and give glory to your ancestors now.”
“There’s one other favour [I](# “your servant”) would like to ask of Your Majesty.” But Duan Ling remained in a kneeling position.
“Speak.”
“The city of Ye is in danger, and the imperial court has no army to send …”
Before Li Yanqiu finishes listening to him, he’s already smiling, and says to Duan Ling, “Sir Tertius Scholar, I haven’t even announced the list of graduates yet.”
As he says this, his tone sounds almost exactly like Li Jianhong’s — since he’s making fun of him this way, Duan Ling knows that Li Yanqiu must be in a really good mood right now. He says solemnly, “I would like to go to Ye, and share Your Majesty’s burdens.”
Li Yanqiu’s expression freezes, and his eyebrows draw together.
Duan Ling rises and sits down at the side of the imperial desk. He picks up a brush, dips it in ink, and draws a rough terrain map of Ye and its surrounding areas, as well as a dotted line at a distance to represent the Great Wall. He says to Li Yanqiu, "The Mongolians failed to take Ye. Right now, it is the beginning of summer, when they’re most active. Usually if they don’t manage to take a city, they won’t stick around to fight, and their withdrawal will take them through here towards the northwest, so they must have left along the Great Wall.
“If everything goes as [I](# “your servant”) anticipate they would, then over the next several months we’ll definitely get news from Changrong, Jintai, and Jibei. They’ll move along the Liao-Chen border, leaving each town as soon as they finish plundering it, until they get to Luoyang.” Duan Ling marks an “x” to the west, not far from Yubiguan. “Luoyang is a major city, so I can’t be sure whether they’ll attack it or not, but as long as they can get to Yubiguan, then sometime during the Ninth and Tenth month they’ll backtrack to the east and return to the vicinity of Ye. This time, they’ll make their last preparations before winter, take down Ye, and stay there for the winter.”
Duan Ling looks up to meet Li Yanqiu’s gaze.
“We have to send someone to Ye right now. Otherwise, by the beginning of winter at the latest, Hejian, Ye, Changzhou — the entire province of Hebei is going to fall into Mongolian hands. It’ll be just as the Mongolian envoy said when he was here; if they can’t trade for the cities, they’ll definitely take them by force.”
Li Yanqiu says, “Tell Zheng Yan to come in here.”
Zheng Yan comes in, and Li Yanqiu says to him, “Summon Mu Kuangda, Xie You, Shi Bingchang, Su Fa, and Wu Zun here for a meeting. Ask the crown prince to come as well.”
Duan Ling knows that Li Yanqiu is giving this suggestion some serious thought, and so he nods and sits back down behind a desk, but Li Yanqiu isn’t saying anything. Wu Du wants to close the door, but Li Yanqiu says, “Keep it open. It’s stuffy in here.”
Li Yanqiu is resting against the backrest of the daybed. A eunuch brings in a hot towel from the outside, and places it over his eyes.
Wu Du peers inside with a questioning look on his face, but Duan Ling waves dismissively to tell him there’s no need to worry. But then he’s raising his left hand to point at his own pulse, pointing again at Li Yanqiu.
Wu Du understands his meaning, and coming into the room, he puts a finger over Li Yanqiu’s pulse.
Li Yanqiu does not speak. Soon, Wu Du withdraws his finger and nods at Duan Ling, letting him know he needn’t worry.
“Even though [I](# “Zhen”)’m often ill,” Li Yanqiu says unhurriedly with the towel over his eyes, “I’m quite aware of the state of my own health.”
“Certainly,” Duan Ling replies.
When he finishes speaking, the imperial study falls silent once again, so quiet one can hear a pin drop.
“Your Majesty,” Duan Ling says suddenly.
“Speak.” They don’t see Li Yanqiu move; they only hear his voice.
Duan Ling feels a certain impulse — why don’t I simply tell him? But once he tells him, there’s no going to Ye after that. Once this is out in the open it’ll send shockwaves through the court, and before the truth is completely cleared up, he won’t be able to go anywhere.
Duan Ling is having yet another moment of hesitation. Not hearing an answer, Li Yanqiu chooses to ask, “Why is your heart so set on the Commandery of Hebei? After the Treaty of Shangzi, the Hebei prefecture has already become a part of Liao. It was only with several later skirmishes that three of the south-facing cities were traded back to us.”
As Duan Ling is about to answer, Cai Yan comes into the room.
“Uncle.” Cai Yan bows at Li Yanqiu, then smiles at Duan Ling. “Let me guess. You’re Wang Shan?”
“Greetings, Your Highness.” Duan Ling gets up from his seat to kowtow, and Cai Yan steps up to stop him. Before their hands have a chance to touch, like a sparring match where the moves don’t even connect, Duan Ling is already returning to his seat.
Cai Yan is expecting Li Yanqiu to say something, but Li Yanqiu simply says, without a hint of emotion, “This year’s Tertius Scholar.”
At the end of that sentence, he hands Duan Ling’s essay to Cai Yan. Cai Yan takes it, sits down nearby and begins to read, while Duan Ling observes his expression, wondering if there’ll be any flaws in his act. Once Cai Yan finishes reading it, he does not speak for a long time. Nodding, he breathes a sigh, and looking up at him to reveal a both sad and helpless smile.
Duan Ling returns a helpless smile of his own — it is a very strange feeling, like the clash between two different kinds of emotions. At first he thought Cai Yan may have been grieving their former friendship; that feeling of how they’re both still here, yet everything has changed. And yet he gradually realises that this sadness is real, without a hint of pretense.
“[My son](# “Imperial son”)?” Li Yanqiu says.
Cai Yan sits there quietly, his eyes suddenly welling up with tears, pouring unstoppably down his cheeks.
Duan Ling can feel it now. Cai Yan is probably remembering his brother — Cai Wen.
“Your Highness mustn’t wallow in sorrow too much,” Duan Ling says. “Your health should be your top priority.”
Cai Yan closes his eyes, nods, and it’s a long time before he opens them again. “Wang Shan, why do you have this name?”
Duan Lin explains to Cai Yan, “Shan is three horizontal lines for Qian, while Kun is one vertical and three across as Wang. It means Qian Kun, or yin and yang.”
Cai Yan looks like he’s somewhat speechless. “You mean it’s not because your dad’s a Wang?”
Duan Ling smiles. “Brilliant, Your Highness.”
It seems another skirmish is hidden throughout these words.
"Feng Duo told me today that there are quite a few promising future court officials taking this year’s palace exam, and what a blessing upon Great Chen that is. Heavens bless and strengthen our imperial court. Wang Shan, you’re also Chancellor Mu’s student; you’ve been with him for so long, but somehow we never knew.”
Duan Ling replies, “I’ve only been his student for a year.”
Cai Yan smiles. “The one who resolved the precarious situation in Tongguan last year must have been you.”
Li Yanqiu looks pensive and seems unaware of the conversation taking place between Cai Yan and Duan Ling, his eyes fixed on the scenery outside.
“Wu Du was there too,” Duan Ling replies.
“I had thought you one of Chancellor Mu’s retained advisers, but now it looks like you’ve also inherited the Mu family’s scholarship, knowledge passed down by Chancellor Mu himself. That is such a hard thing to come by.” In the middle of this, he smiles at Li Yanqiu. “When he becomes an official of the court, the debates that may ensue if his thoughts ever conflict with Chancellor Mu’s are surely to be quite amusing.”
“Your Highness flatters me.” Duan Ling shyly bows a little in his seat to seem humble, but he knows Cai Yan is giving him a reminder by saying, your problem is that you’re the chancellor’s student. You have surely overheard some conspiracy or other, so that even if you regained your position, Mu Kuangda would never let you live.
“When we present sacrifices, we do so in the order of heaven, earth, ruler, relative, and then teacher,” Duan Ling replies with a smile. “Ruler is placed before teacher. I will say what I must say, do what I must do, and would never hold my tongue. And if I really can’t get one over on him, I’ll just ask General Xie for help.”
Cai Yan and Duan Ling both laugh; Cai Yan has understood what Duan Ling was trying to say, and it’s also a warning that even if Mu Kuangda wants to kill him, he’s a civil official after all, so as long as Xie You is on his side Mu Kuangda can’t make much of a fuss.
Cai Yan jests once more, “General Xie rarely ever speaks. I’m afraid you won’t be able to convince him.”
Now Duan Ling understands Cai Yan means that Xie You wouldn’t so easily accept him. Truth is, he actually thinks Xie You is the likeliest person to recognise him. He has no idea why, but that moment of shock the last time Duan Ling met with him just keeps giving him this strange feeling.
Their skirmish is interrupted by Xie You’s arrival. Xie You gives Duan Ling a glance, nods, and doesn’t say much else.
“You came quick,” Li Yanqiu says mildly.
”[I](# “Your servant”) was just outside the palace on night patrol, and upon suddenly hearing Your Majesty’s summons, rushed right over.”
Once Xie You arrives, Cai Yan introduces Duan Ling to him, “This here is the new Tertius Scholar.”
Xie You gives him a nod, and Duan Ling bows at once. Li Yanqiu hasn’t announced the honour roll yet, so he really shouldn’t tell anyone, but since the crown prince is the one who said it, keeping it a secret doesn’t matter anymore. Soon enough, Su Fa and the others also show up one by one, and the last to arrive is Mu Kuangda.
I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎
From Tao Yuanming’s Three Songs to Lament My Own Death; he’s the same Tao Yuanming who wrote Peach Blossom Spring. The poem is pretty long, but the funniest part, which Li Jianhong would probably agree with, is “My glory or shame won’t matter in a thousand years; my only regret is that I didn’t drink enough when I was alive.” There’s a translation of that here. Little does he know that it’s been more than 1,500 years and people are still writing books and papers about his poetry. ↩︎
“Though kin may still grieve, others are already singing; what’s more to say after death? I’ve entrusted my body to the earth.”2 Duan Ling says with a smile, “Your Majesty, please take care of your health. When I learned of the late emperor’s death, I felt like the world was going to end. But in time I gradually came out of my grief.”
Li Yanqiu gazes at Duan Ling calmly with reddened eyes, and after a long pause he says, “What kind of a person do you think the late emperor was? Wu Du was the one at his side through his final days, waiting on him, so you’re sure to have heard a lot about him.”
Duan Ling ponders this for a little while, but despite how much he racks his brains, he can’t find the most fitting vocabulary to describe his father. He was wise, with an extraordinary bearing, gentle, and patient … just like a mountain, always guiding him in the right direction. No matter how long or how far he walks, whenever he looks up, he can always see that mountain — an exceedingly tall mountain.
But as for the deepest impression Li Jianhong has left on him … Duan Ling says finally, after thinking some more, “He was a fascinating man.”
Li Yanqiu’s face brightens with a smile. “You’re right. He was a fascinating man.”
Duan Ling is smiling as well. Everything about Li Jianhong is encompassed in this single word; there’s already no need to say more.
“It is far more difficult to live a life as a fascinating person in the world than it is to accomplish great deeds and having your name go down in history.” Li Yanqiu says ruefully, “The world may be big, but somehow we won’t be able to find another like him. However, [I](# “Zhen”) do feel very glad every time [I](# “Zhen”) talk to you.”
“Having a chance to speak with Your Majesty also makes [me](# “your servant”) very glad.”
Here Li Yanqiu smiles at him again. That’s when Zheng Yan says from outside, “Your Majesty, your medicine is here.”
Duan Ling doesn’t wait for orders before going to the door to take the medicine from the maid, so he can present it. Then, when Li Yanqiu picks up the bowl, Duan Ling reaches out with two fingers and places them over Li Yanqiu’s pulse. Li Yanqiu glances at Duan Ling, and drinks his medicine without a word.
Duan Ling thinks quietly to himself for a moment. He knows that Li Yanqiu hasn’t been poisoned, or at least his pulse is indicating that his vital signs are normal. But his pulse is faint and weak, and he’s deficient in both blood and qi, a sign of a bad heart that needs medicinal soups to both strengthen his heart and calm his mind.
His diagnosis doesn’t count, though — Wu Du has to be the one to verify whether Li Yanqiu has been poisoned. Even though Wu Du does see Li Yanqiu from time to time, the art of physic requires “see”, “hear”, “communicate”, and “pulse”, but one can usually tell from the colour of someone’s face whether they’ve been hit with a slow-acting poison. There’s no way Wu Du wouldn’t be able to tell.
Duan Ling has made rough conjectures at Mu Kuangda’s scheme, and it’s highly possible that he’s making Mu Jinzhi give Li Yanqiu the same medicinal decoction every day until the day that he decides to kill him; that’s when he’s going to add the poison. This way, Li Yanqiu’s guard will have been lowered, making it impossible to be vigilant against. It’s something he’ll have to drink every day, after all, and it’s hard to see its short-term effects. With so many years ahead of them, if he poisons Li Yanqiu just a few times out of hundreds, Li Yanqiu won’t be able to notice it.
Duan Ling withdraws his fingers and nods. He doesn’t say anything, and Li Yanqiu doesn’t ask him anything either.
“If you hadn’t mentioned the late emperor in the palace exam essay, I would have named you Primus.” Li Yanqiu says with a frown after finishing his medication, “But since you’ve used the late emperor as window dressing, you can’t be Primus any more. All I can do is give you the Tertius title.”
Duan Ling smiles, and holding the edges of his robe, he kneels in front of Li Yanqiu to thank His Majesty’s grace.
“Go home, and let Wu Du know. You can go back to your hometown and give glory to your ancestors now.”
“There’s one other favour [I](# “your servant”) would like to ask of Your Majesty.” But Duan Ling remained in a kneeling position.
“Speak.”
“The city of Ye is in danger, and the imperial court has no army to send …”
Before Li Yanqiu finishes listening to him, he’s already smiling, and says to Duan Ling, “Sir Tertius Scholar, I haven’t even announced the list of graduates yet.”
As he says this, his tone sounds almost exactly like Li Jianhong’s — since he’s making fun of him this way, Duan Ling knows that Li Yanqiu must be in a really good mood right now. He says solemnly, “I would like to go to Ye, and share Your Majesty’s burdens.”
Li Yanqiu’s expression freezes, and his eyebrows draw together.
Duan Ling rises and sits down at the side of the imperial desk. He picks up a brush, dips it in ink, and draws a rough terrain map of Ye and its surrounding areas, as well as a dotted line at a distance to represent the Great Wall. He says to Li Yanqiu, "The Mongolians failed to take Ye. Right now, it is the beginning of summer, when they’re most active. Usually if they don’t manage to take a city, they won’t stick around to fight, and their withdrawal will take them through here towards the northwest, so they must have left along the Great Wall.
“If everything goes as [I](# “your servant”) anticipate they would, then over the next several months we’ll definitely get news from Changrong, Jintai, and Jibei. They’ll move along the Liao-Chen border, leaving each town as soon as they finish plundering it, until they get to Luoyang.” Duan Ling marks an “x” to the west, not far from Yubiguan. “Luoyang is a major city, so I can’t be sure whether they’ll attack it or not, but as long as they can get to Yubiguan, then sometime during the Ninth and Tenth month they’ll backtrack to the east and return to the vicinity of Ye. This time, they’ll make their last preparations before winter, take down Ye, and stay there for the winter.”
Duan Ling looks up to meet Li Yanqiu’s gaze.
“We have to send someone to Ye right now. Otherwise, by the beginning of winter at the latest, Hejian, Ye, Changzhou — the entire province of Hebei is going to fall into Mongolian hands. It’ll be just as the Mongolian envoy said when he was here; if they can’t trade for the cities, they’ll definitely take them by force.”
Li Yanqiu says, “Tell Zheng Yan to come in here.”
Zheng Yan comes in, and Li Yanqiu says to him, “Summon Mu Kuangda, Xie You, Shi Bingchang, Su Fa, and Wu Zun here for a meeting. Ask the crown prince to come as well.”
Duan Ling knows that Li Yanqiu is giving this suggestion some serious thought, and so he nods and sits back down behind a desk, but Li Yanqiu isn’t saying anything. Wu Du wants to close the door, but Li Yanqiu says, “Keep it open. It’s stuffy in here.”
Li Yanqiu is resting against the backrest of the daybed. A eunuch brings in a hot towel from the outside, and places it over his eyes.
Wu Du peers inside with a questioning look on his face, but Duan Ling waves dismissively to tell him there’s no need to worry. But then he’s raising his left hand to point at his own pulse, pointing again at Li Yanqiu.
Wu Du understands his meaning, and coming into the room, he puts a finger over Li Yanqiu’s pulse.
Li Yanqiu does not speak. Soon, Wu Du withdraws his finger and nods at Duan Ling, letting him know he needn’t worry.
“Even though [I](# “Zhen”)’m often ill,” Li Yanqiu says unhurriedly with the towel over his eyes, “I’m quite aware of the state of my own health.”
“Certainly,” Duan Ling replies.
When he finishes speaking, the imperial study falls silent once again, so quiet one can hear a pin drop.
“Your Majesty,” Duan Ling says suddenly.
“Speak.” They don’t see Li Yanqiu move; they only hear his voice.
Duan Ling feels a certain impulse — why don’t I simply tell him? But once he tells him, there’s no going to Ye after that. Once this is out in the open it’ll send shockwaves through the court, and before the truth is completely cleared up, he won’t be able to go anywhere.
Duan Ling is having yet another moment of hesitation. Not hearing an answer, Li Yanqiu chooses to ask, “Why is your heart so set on the Commandery of Hebei? After the Treaty of Shangzi, the Hebei prefecture has already become a part of Liao. It was only with several later skirmishes that three of the south-facing cities were traded back to us.”
As Duan Ling is about to answer, Cai Yan comes into the room.
“Uncle.” Cai Yan bows at Li Yanqiu, then smiles at Duan Ling. “Let me guess. You’re Wang Shan?”
“Greetings, Your Highness.” Duan Ling gets up from his seat to kowtow, and Cai Yan steps up to stop him. Before their hands have a chance to touch, like a sparring match where the moves don’t even connect, Duan Ling is already returning to his seat.
Cai Yan is expecting Li Yanqiu to say something, but Li Yanqiu simply says, without a hint of emotion, “This year’s Tertius Scholar.”
At the end of that sentence, he hands Duan Ling’s essay to Cai Yan. Cai Yan takes it, sits down nearby and begins to read, while Duan Ling observes his expression, wondering if there’ll be any flaws in his act. Once Cai Yan finishes reading it, he does not speak for a long time. Nodding, he breathes a sigh, and looking up at him to reveal a both sad and helpless smile.
Duan Ling returns a helpless smile of his own — it is a very strange feeling, like the clash between two different kinds of emotions. At first he thought Cai Yan may have been grieving their former friendship; that feeling of how they’re both still here, yet everything has changed. And yet he gradually realises that this sadness is real, without a hint of pretense.
“[My son](# “Imperial son”)?” Li Yanqiu says.
Cai Yan sits there quietly, his eyes suddenly welling up with tears, pouring unstoppably down his cheeks.
Duan Ling can feel it now. Cai Yan is probably remembering his brother — Cai Wen.
“Your Highness mustn’t wallow in sorrow too much,” Duan Ling says. “Your health should be your top priority.”
Cai Yan closes his eyes, nods, and it’s a long time before he opens them again. “Wang Shan, why do you have this name?”
Duan Lin explains to Cai Yan, “Shan is three horizontal lines for Qian, while Kun is one vertical and three across as Wang. It means Qian Kun, or yin and yang.”
Cai Yan looks like he’s somewhat speechless. “You mean it’s not because your dad’s a Wang?”
Duan Ling smiles. “Brilliant, Your Highness.”
It seems another skirmish is hidden throughout these words.
"Feng Duo told me today that there are quite a few promising future court officials taking this year’s palace exam, and what a blessing upon Great Chen that is. Heavens bless and strengthen our imperial court. Wang Shan, you’re also Chancellor Mu’s student; you’ve been with him for so long, but somehow we never knew.”
Duan Ling replies, “I’ve only been his student for a year.”
Cai Yan smiles. “The one who resolved the precarious situation in Tongguan last year must have been you.”
Li Yanqiu looks pensive and seems unaware of the conversation taking place between Cai Yan and Duan Ling, his eyes fixed on the scenery outside.
“Wu Du was there too,” Duan Ling replies.
“I had thought you one of Chancellor Mu’s retained advisers, but now it looks like you’ve also inherited the Mu family’s scholarship, knowledge passed down by Chancellor Mu himself. That is such a hard thing to come by.” In the middle of this, he smiles at Li Yanqiu. “When he becomes an official of the court, the debates that may ensue if his thoughts ever conflict with Chancellor Mu’s are surely to be quite amusing.”
“Your Highness flatters me.” Duan Ling shyly bows a little in his seat to seem humble, but he knows Cai Yan is giving him a reminder by saying, your problem is that you’re the chancellor’s student. You have surely overheard some conspiracy or other, so that even if you regained your position, Mu Kuangda would never let you live.
“When we present sacrifices, we do so in the order of heaven, earth, ruler, relative, and then teacher,” Duan Ling replies with a smile. “Ruler is placed before teacher. I will say what I must say, do what I must do, and would never hold my tongue. And if I really can’t get one over on him, I’ll just ask General Xie for help.”
Cai Yan and Duan Ling both laugh; Cai Yan has understood what Duan Ling was trying to say, and it’s also a warning that even if Mu Kuangda wants to kill him, he’s a civil official after all, so as long as Xie You is on his side Mu Kuangda can’t make much of a fuss.
Cai Yan jests once more, “General Xie rarely ever speaks. I’m afraid you won’t be able to convince him.”
Now Duan Ling understands Cai Yan means that Xie You wouldn’t so easily accept him. Truth is, he actually thinks Xie You is the likeliest person to recognise him. He has no idea why, but that moment of shock the last time Duan Ling met with him just keeps giving him this strange feeling.
Their skirmish is interrupted by Xie You’s arrival. Xie You gives Duan Ling a glance, nods, and doesn’t say much else.
“You came quick,” Li Yanqiu says mildly.
”[I](# “Your servant”) was just outside the palace on night patrol, and upon suddenly hearing Your Majesty’s summons, rushed right over.”
Once Xie You arrives, Cai Yan introduces Duan Ling to him, “This here is the new Tertius Scholar.”
Xie You gives him a nod, and Duan Ling bows at once. Li Yanqiu hasn’t announced the honour roll yet, so he really shouldn’t tell anyone, but since the crown prince is the one who said it, keeping it a secret doesn’t matter anymore. Soon enough, Su Fa and the others also show up one by one, and the last to arrive is Mu Kuangda.
I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎
From Tao Yuanming’s Three Songs to Lament My Own Death; he’s the same Tao Yuanming who wrote Peach Blossom Spring. The poem is pretty long, but the funniest part, which Li Jianhong would probably agree with, is “My glory or shame won’t matter in a thousand years; my only regret is that I didn’t drink enough when I was alive.” There’s a translation of that here. Little does he know that it’s been more than 1,500 years and people are still writing books and papers about his poetry. ↩︎
