Chapter Seventy-Three: The Emperor

Page 1 of 3

PS: I had written the order of Neanderthals and Homo sapiens incorrectly, but it's been corrected now. Thank you, brothers, for pointing it out.

Chapter Seventy-Three: Emperor

Wang Jian appeared to walk leisurely, legs pressed together, but in truth, he moved astonishingly fast. Ironheart Yuan had seen this manner of walking on stage before: taking tiny steps, feet hidden by the robe, making the person seem to float across the boards.

But Wang Jian walked far more gracefully than any actress, and, most importantly, his pace was both steady and incredibly swift.

The guards carrying Ironheart Yuan in a basket had to take large strides and move quickly just to keep up.

He had no idea how many twists and turns they took, nor how many pavilions and halls they passed along the way. Aside from the guards, not a soul was to be seen. Ironheart Yuan’s hope of catching a close glimpse of the beauties in Zhao Zhen's harem was thoroughly dashed.

The emperor wanting to see him came as no surprise to Ironheart Yuan. What he hadn’t expected was that the emperor would choose to summon him at the very moment when his appearance was at its worst.

“Uncle Wang, is it really proper for me to meet His Majesty like this?”

Wang Jian was clearly delighted with being called Uncle Wang. With a flick of his horsetail whisk, he grinned, “There's nothing improper about it. Do you think your delicate looks will make the emperor hold you in higher regard? It's only when he sees your bruised face and swollen forehead that you'll leave an impression.

Understand, boy, this is what it means to be marked in the emperor's mind!”

"Uncle Wang, please go easy on me. Ever since you promoted me as a prodigy, I haven't had a moment's peace. Just now, you gave my mother quite a fright."

“Heh heh…” Wang Jian’s signature sly chuckle left Ironheart Yuan rather bewildered.

“Your mother? She's a remarkable woman. Such a trivial matter wouldn't bother her in the least. The emperor would never make things difficult for a child like you.

Look, isn’t your fox following along too? That’s the ally your mother found for you. Your mother is no ordinary woman.”

Ironheart Yuan turned to see the fox leaping into the basket, its four paws pressing on his belly, panting like a dog—he had no idea where it learned that. He stroked the fox’s large ears, which were damp—this was where it sweated.

The fox’s sweat had a rather musky odor, so after wiping behind its ears, Ironheart Yuan tossed the handkerchief aside.

“Boy, how did you make that armor? His Majesty has tested it himself—at a hundred paces, it can withstand a crossbow bolt. It’s nearly as good as the standard infantry armor, but half the weight. But there’s no need to tell me the secrets; I’m just idly asking.”

Ironheart Yuan smiled, “It’s nothing special, really. The key is in the material and structure. I have a friend whose family has crafted armor for generations. He’s clever; making suitable armor is no hard feat for him.”

“And the Divine Arm Bow—was that his work as well?”

“What Divine Arm Bow? I don’t know what you mean.” Ironheart Yuan recalled how the emperor had mysteriously rewarded his fox last time and realized the emperor did not want others to know about the bow.

Wang Jian paused, tapping Ironheart Yuan’s head with the whisk handle and laughing. “Now that’s more like a prodigy. Writing a couple of poems is nothing much.”

After passing through a deep corridor, Ironheart Yuan saw the emperor at last.

Today, the emperor looked rather fierce, holding a golden mace and striking the chest of a guard clad in the gold chain armor, each blow resounding with a dull thud. The guard looked about to cough blood, yet he braced himself and said, “Your Majesty, I can still endure. Please strike harder.”

When Zhao Zhen saw Ironheart Yuan brought over in a basket, he put away the golden mace. When the fox trotted up to him, he gently shooed it aside with his foot, laughing, “Smelly thing, you dare come near me without a bath? Get away…”

Page 2 of 3

It was Ironheart Yuan’s first time meeting the emperor, and he found the man surprisingly affable, so his lingering anxiety faded away.

Zhao Zhen looked Ironheart Yuan up and down and asked Wang Jian, “Is this the prodigy you spoke of? How did he end up like this?”

Wang Jian quickly replied, “Ran into a tree!”

Zhao Zhen looked again at Ironheart Yuan, who was staring at him, and said, “Speak up, don’t just stand there gawking. Didn’t you write in your poem, ‘When spring comes, I do not speak—what insect would dare make a sound’?”

Ironheart Yuan crawled out of the basket, uncertain of the etiquette, fumbling awkwardly, until the emperor said, “Think of me as an elder from your neighborhood—just show the courtesy of a junior.”

Ironheart Yuan hastily clasped his hands and bowed.

The emperor smiled faintly, then returned to the guard he’d been striking. “Well?” he asked.

The guard nodded, “Excellent armor. When Your Majesty struck with the heavy mace, I felt the force was not concentrated in a single spot, but rather dispersed over a large area by the armor. So Your Majesty's blows have not harmed me.”

The emperor rapped his knuckles against the armor, then turned to Ironheart Yuan, “Tell me, how was it made? Especially these rings—what function do they serve?”

Ironheart Yuan smiled, “I don’t really know. The princess gave me a lot of money and asked me to find her a gift, so I commissioned someone to craft this armor.”

Zhao Zhen frowned at Wang Jian, “Are skilled craftsmen so common in the capital now? How is it you can’t find such artisans?”

Wang Jian replied with a sly smile, “Your Majesty, the craftsman who made this armor is but thirteen years old, too young to serve in the imperial workshops.”

Ironheart Yuan could only sigh. What a lack of shame: a mighty emperor and a high official ganging up on a seven-year-old child…

“Little Qiao has a dozen younger siblings to support. He’s long wanted to join the imperial workshops and has asked many times, but the authorities ignored him, leaving him to wander the streets with his siblings, a beggar despite his skills.”

Looking at Ironheart Yuan’s comical face, Zhao Zhen could not keep a straight face and laughed, “Boy, if I can make a beam from a tree grown on fertile plains, why not from one that has struggled up from cliff and crag?

When I choose timber, I look for size and straightness, not how it grew.”

Wang Jian smiled, “Your Majesty speaks truly.”

The emperor continued, “First the Divine Arm Bow, now this armor—you still remember your sovereign. Since you care about your emperor, your emperor will care about you.

This time, I give you no reward, only a patch of free sky—since you dislike restrictions, you shall have none.

Wang Jian, give the boy a license to manufacture. With it, they can make whatever they wish, and won’t risk execution by Bao Zheng for private armor making!”

Wang Jian grinned, “At once, Your Majesty.”

Ironheart Yuan realized that in the emperor’s presence, he had no room to speak. No matter the logic, the emperor always had the last word.

Page 3 of 3

Whether he liked it or not, the emperor could reach his conclusions at will, leaving no room for refusal.

Still, the manufacturing license was a fine thing. With it, Ironheart Yuan could make anything he wished: wine, salt, tea—any industry under state control.

In all of the capital, there were only twelve licensed shops allowed to brew their own wine, and that was only for brewing. Without a license, selling just ten catties of yeast could see a man banished to the ends of the earth.

“Thank you, Your Majesty! Thank you for your great kindness,” Ironheart Yuan said joyfully.

The emperor smiled, eyes narrowed, “It’s not because I like your little inventions that I grant you the license, but because I value your loyalty.

I am lord of all under heaven, and treasures are brought to me from all quarters—that means little. But for a handful of children to know my heart, that is rare indeed.

By the way, why is the eldest son of the Yang family always with you? I hear he’s even given up his official post.”

Ironheart Yuan, of course, would not speak ill of Yang Huaiyu at such a time. Seeing the emperor’s gossipy interest, he replied with a smile, “Yang Dalang felt his former post came too easily and dulled his ambition.

He said the empire’s repeated setbacks in the northwest are due to a lack of true warriors, and that such men are seldom found among officials. So he gave up his rank, honing himself harshly, and plans to take the martial examination after the new year—when he wins, he’ll go to the northwest to temper himself.”

At first unconcerned, Zhao Zhen’s eyes suddenly lit up. He looked at Ironheart Yuan, “Does the Yang boy truly have such ambition?”

Ironheart Yuan smiled, “Yang Dalang says his martial skills have stagnated for lack of worthy opponents. If Your Majesty wishes to test his resolve, perhaps send someone to challenge him.”

Zhao Zhen nodded, “There are still some capable men in the Tiger Wing Battalion. But tell me, have you and Yang Dalang truly let go of your old enmity? Your mother and you once nearly died beneath his spear.”

Ironheart Yuan grinned, “Mother told me that old grudge is past. Now we’re friends, though I don’t mean to let him off easy.”

Zhao Zhen laughed, “In that case, you needn’t tell him about the Tiger Wing Battalion.”

Ironheart Yuan bowed, “As you command, Your Majesty.”

Zhao Zhen stood, glanced at the sky, and sighed, “Time flies, and waits for no one. Go, go.”

With that, he retreated into the inner palace, leaving Ironheart Yuan and the fox idle, waiting for Wang Jian to bring back the license.

Suddenly, the fox turned its head toward the curtains. Ironheart Yuan followed its gaze and saw a small, smiling face peeking through a slit in the drapery.

Ironheart Yuan coughed, doing his best not to stare, but the fox leapt from his arms and darted through the curtain, barking excitedly…