Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Grand Ceremony of the Five Nations Alliance (Eighteen)

After being called aside by Master Chen Yin, the Minister of Rites seemed to be discussing something with him. After a while, the Minister began writing slowly in a small folding booklet. Once he had finished the last character, he carefully picked up the booklet and brought it to his lips, blowing gently to dry the ink.

Master Chen Yin then walked to the steps below the dais, nearest the Emperor of Baixi, and with a composed expression, solemnly announced, “Your Majesty, the six aspects of the musical arts have been completed. Would you prefer to announce the rankings yourself, or shall we do so?”

The Emperor of Baixi waved his hand and replied with a smile, “In accordance with the principle that the sovereign does not intervene, I leave this to you and the Minister of Rites to decide.”

Such a reply, beyond doubt, affirmed the Emperor’s word as law, and made the people below even more respectful toward him.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Master Chen Yin then turned to the Minister of Rites. “If you would, please inform everyone of the results.”

The Minister of Rites complied, unfolding the booklet and addressing the assembly with solemn dignity, “The rankings for today’s musical arts competition are as follows: Fifth Prince Fuhua of Nansheng has achieved the highest distinction and is awarded the gold medal.”

No one appeared surprised at this result. Instead, as everyone looked at Fuhua’s calm and unwavering expression, they forgot to applaud or praise him.

The Minister paused, then continued, “Second Prince Gu Nanyuan of Baixi and Ninth Prince Shen Xizhe of Beixiao have achieved second-highest distinction and are awarded silver medals.”

Gu Nanyuan snorted softly and accepted his silver medal with evident displeasure. Although Shen Xizhe had performed remarkably on the zither, he had forfeited the drumming competition—how, then, had he so easily earned a silver medal?

Shen Xizhe, on the other hand, took the medal with beaming joy and respectful gratitude, clearly delighted.

“Fourth Prince Changsun Chengjue of Xize and Third Prince Wan Qi Shu of Dongling have achieved the standard distinction and are awarded bronze medals.”

Wan Qi Shu’s face lit up with surprise and delight; he was all smiles. Changsun Chengmin, too, wore a faint smile—this outcome was not bad for them.

“Truly disgraceful, Third Brother. Every time, it’s only the standard ranking,” Wan Qi Lü said coldly, glaring at him.

“Your Majesty, now that the musical contest has concluded, I shall take my leave,” Master Chen Yin said with respectful bow, turning to go without waiting for the Emperor’s reply.

No one dared comment. The Emperor of Baixi showed no displeasure—after all, these six sages were neither ministers nor subjects; their participation alone was a rare honor, and it could not be measured by rank.

“I have had food prepared at the guest pavilion. You all seem weary, so feel free to withdraw at your leisure,” the Emperor called out.

The crowd responded in unison.

“What a benevolent and magnanimous ruler,” someone remarked.

“It seems the Emperor of Baixi is indeed as the rumors say, compassionate to his people. To have such a wise sovereign is the people’s great fortune.”

“In my next life, I hope to be born in Baixi again.”

“So do I, so do I,” came more and more voices in agreement.

Changsun Chengmin had just stepped down from the platform when he noticed Fuhua watching him—or rather, waiting for him.

A fleeting chill flickered in his eyes, but he quickly replaced it with a smile as he approached.

“Congratulations to the Fifth Prince for attaining the highest distinction,” Changsun Chengmin said, eyes crinkling with mirth.

“It’s only the highest distinction. Hardly worth congratulating,” Fuhua replied coolly.

“Indeed. I’m hungry now, so I won’t keep you company,” Changsun Chengmin’s expression shifted subtly.

Before he could take a step, Fuhua extended his right arm to block his way. “As it happens, I’m hungry too. Why not dine together?”

Changsun Chengmin smiled. “After you.”

And so, Fuhua and Changsun Chengmin, along with their attendants, departed the training ground together.

The four of them walked in silence. After a long, heavy quiet, they arrived at Liuyun Pavilion.

The staff inside quickly greeted them, “Please come in, gentlemen. What would you like to eat?”

Changsun Chengmin glanced casually around the room and remarked to the attendant, “I hadn’t expected the restaurants of Baixi to be so elegant.”

The attendant scratched his head and gave a dry laugh.

“Do you have White Dragon Leap, Snow Baby, Stir-Fried Three-Delicacy Bamboo Shoots with Crane Eggs, Stonehead Fish, Mandarin Roll, Honeyed Yam Threads, Spicy Earth Soup, and Pan-Fried Three-Colored Fresh?” Changsun Chengmin reeled off a long list of dishes.

“We do, we do! Would you gentlemen like anything else?” the attendant asked as he hurriedly noted down the order.

Changsun Chengmin looked to Fuhua. “These are all my favorites. Would you like—”

“Bring a pot of your finest tea as well,” Fuhua interjected, addressing the attendant.

“Of course. Please wait a moment, gentlemen.” The attendant grinned widely.

“I’ve always heard you have a fondness for wine, Fuhua. Why only tea today?” In the wine house, Changsun Chengmin addressed him by name, not wishing to draw attention.

“Wine should be shared with friends,” Fuhua replied with a mocking smile.

“To share a table but not a friendship—how amusing,” Changsun Chengmin quipped.

Just then, from nearby, the voice of a stage singer drifted over:

“The world rises and falls, the years slip by unsteady—why rush? The times are fickle, good and evil debated, yet few speak of honor and disgrace, of triumph and defeat. See the winds on the mountains, the moon over the shamanic seas, the chill of Penglai, withered grass on the Unending Mountain, riches like dew on leaves, glory like frost atop a grave. Comprehend the ways of the world and all worries vanish. Why boast of dragon palaces or phoenix halls, or speak of the snares of fame and fortune? In peaceful leisure, let merriment run wild, play a tune of ‘Drunken City,’ pen a scroll of cold waters at Zhanghua.

Born in this age, seeking beauty and joy, inviting a few close friends to drift boats on lake and sea, to play the zither and flute, or converse on the Dao and the law; to speak of past lives and destinies, or discuss the rise and fall of fortunes. See those splendid spiritual mountains, burying a lifetime of glory and decline. Let wind and rain come and go, let blizzards blanket the earth. Schemes and plots are no match for carefree delight…”

The voice faded gradually, then vanished.

Changsun Chengmin and Fuhua exchanged a glance. The table was now laden with delicacies. Absorbed by the performance, they had not even noticed the fragrance of the dishes.

They sat and ate in silence. Changsun Chengmin could not fathom why Fuhua had insisted on dining with him. By rights, Fuhua should have been eager to avoid him—this was all rather strange.

Meanwhile, Qi Guan, accompanied by Chu Yuer, was escorting the unconscious Zhao Xu—his face covered with a black cloth—up the slopes of the Unending Mountain.

At this moment, the Wanxu Pavilion was brightly lit, and an elderly woman stood at the entrance.

Qi Guan helped Yuer down from the carriage. The old woman came out to greet them, saying, “From now on, I will care for the lady. You need not worry.”

When Chu Yuer looked up and recognized her, she inclined herself in surprise. “Are you the old woman from the foot of Lone Mountain? I saw you there with Qi Guan on our way to Baixi.”

The old woman quickly helped her up with a gentle smile. “I remember you as well, my lady.”

Qi Guan recalled that the masked man had told him he could bring no fourth person, and that someone would be there to look after Chu Yuer. He had not expected it to be the old woman from Lone Mountain, and felt a little dazed. “Please call her Yuer, Granny. I must trouble you to look after her.”

The old woman smiled softly.

“Brother Qi Guan, Cui’er was crying her eyes out when she learned I couldn’t bring her along. Please be good to her when you return,” Chu Yuer said, turning to Qi Guan. Thinking of Cui’er’s sulking made her sad, but she simply could not bring her to Wanxu Pavilion.

“I understand,” Qi Guan comforted her.

“The wind is strong outside, and Yuer is with child. Let us go inside to talk,” the old woman said, supporting Yuer as they walked in.

Qi Guan nodded, hoisted Zhao Xu onto his back, and followed them into the pavilion.