Beauty, Power and Intrigue Chapter 75

There wasn’t much discrepancy from Song Chuyi’s estimate – after five continuous days of travel, they arrived at Yuanyong late at night on the fifth day.

Yuanyong was a place backed by the Yellow River to the north, with densely clustered cities nearby, a contested ground for military strategists. Located at the border between Han and Wei, it frequently changed hands, and consequently its residents were a mix of peoples.

After staying one night in Yuanyong, Song Chuyi directed the merchant caravan to turn southwest, bypassing Wei and traveling from Han directly to Wu Pass.

The Han capital was too close to Wei’s capital Daliang – if word were to leak out…

Inside the carriage, Song Chuyi leaned against the wall in thought, the sheepskin map spread out beside her, her fingers tapping rhythmically on it.

Longgu Buwang held a bamboo slip in his hand, but his gaze kept stealing glances at Song Chuyi’s face. Her cheeks had been frostbitten from riding horseback days earlier, leaving two red patches, and Longgu Buwang suddenly noticed how fine her skin was, like silk, and couldn’t help looking again and again.

Song Chuyi suddenly turned her head and grinned at him. “Although I’m a person of considerable depth, no matter how many times you look, you won’t gain wisdom.”

She wiped the smile from her face and said, “Read.”

Longgu Buwang’s skin had grown much thicker by now. Hearing this, he wasn’t annoyed at all, and simply set down the bamboo slip and asked, “Sir, you’ve been staring at the map for four or five days straight – what exactly are you looking at?”

He felt that Song Chuyi had probably carved the map into her memory long ago, yet she still sat staring at it all day. She wasn’t bored, but he was getting bored just watching.

“What I’m looking at isn’t the map – it’s the general situation of the realm,” Song Chuyi said, reaching out. Jian quickly placed a cup of hot water in her hand.

“So, are you going to pay a visit to the Marquis of Han or not?” Longgu Buwang asked.

“If you were the one making the decision – to go or not to go?” Song Chuyi took a sip of water, answering a question with a question.

Longgu Buwang had been mulling over this question for the past few days, so he answered without hesitation, “Of course go. I’ve thought about it – we’ll have to visit the Marquis of Han sooner or later anyway, so we might as well do it now while we’re here. You can visit the Marquis of Han without revealing your identity as a Wey envoy, act cautiously, and you shouldn’t be discovered.”

Just like last time in Song – first visit the powerful minister and ask him to arrange an introduction.

But Han, after all, was one of the seven great powers, and its internal situation was far more complicated than Song’s. Moreover, last time Song Chuyi had no worries behind her – even if her identity had been exposed, she would have had room to recover, as long as she kept her life. This time was different; not the slightest mishap could be tolerated. If word leaked out, the entire plan would fail.

Song Chuyi pondered for a moment, then said, “Have you ever looked into the Marquis of Han?”

Longgu Buwang was taken aback for a moment, then shook his head. “I’ve never left Wey, so I don’t know much about him.”

“Actually, you can get a glimpse of his character from his actions,” Song Chuyi said, setting down her cup. “When the Marquis of Han was young, he had a fair measure of decisiveness, but the older he gets, the more he’s like weak grass on a wall – bending whichever way the wind blows. He’s soft-eared and increasingly inclined to follow the crowd. If I go to him and talk in empty terms, even if it works at the time, by the time I’ve finished persuading the other states, it’ll be at least half a year later – who knows what changes might occur by then?”

Longgu Buwang was stunned for a moment. He had only considered objective factors and hadn’t thought of any of this.

Song Chuyi set down her teacup and rolled up the map. “No matter how fast all things in the world change, nothing changes faster than the human heart.”

Longgu Buwang asked, “How does one grasp the human heart?”

“Grasp the human heart?” Song Chuyi gave a soft laugh. “The most ungraspable things in this world are the Way of Heaven and the human heart. As for the Way of Heaven, one can borrow momentum according to the times; as for the human heart, one can make use of it according to the circumstances.”

Longgu Buwang bowed. “I have learned.”

Since they could not visit the Marquis of Han first, Song Chuyi made the decision and ordered the caravan to head directly to Qin’s fortress – Wu Pass.

Although it was farther than Hangu Pass and the road was difficult, they would no longer need to pass through Wei, making it harder for their movements to be detected.

They did not enter any large cities along the way, until after Nanliang, where they finally entered the city to rest for a night, repair their carts and horses, and buy dry provisions. Because from there all the way to Wu Pass, there would be no more large cities.

Song Chuyi did not rest idle along the journey either; instead, she either drew maps or made written records of the places they passed through.

Finally able to sleep soundly on a bed that did not sway, Song Chuyi, after bathing, lay down comfortably like a puddle of mud and unknowingly drifted off to sleep.

In her daze, she seemed to hear someone singing:

“The wise man builds a city; the wise woman topples it. Alas, that wise woman – she is an owl, a screech owl. A woman with a long tongue is the root of calamity…”

Song Chuyi’s eyes flew open, drenched in cold sweat.

It was the song sung by the old man they had encountered along the way – about how a clever woman brings ruin to a state. Song Chuyi reached out and touched the brocade pouch at her breast. Inside was the medicine Xing Shou had given her, said to conceal her feminine traits.

“Five years…” Song Chuyi murmured. For five years, no feminine traits would show.

She slowly sat up and, by the firelight in the brazier, poured herself a cup of water.

In the past, the reason Song Chuyi had holed up in a small place was precisely because she never concealed her identity as a woman. Since she was a student of Zhuangzi, there would be powerful men who wanted to take her as a wife – at the very least, fine clothes and rich fare would not have been a problem. But she preferred to hit walls everywhere, endure so much hardship, nearly lose her life, rather than live confined in a small corner of the world.

She did not conceal her identity because she feared that if it were exposed one day, the consequences would be unmanageable. Better to make it clear from the start – those willing to use her could, and those unwilling could leave it be. But the tide of the times had its way, and most of the time one still had to drift with the current.

Heaven had taken pity and given her a chance to live again. Should she cower and preserve her life, seeking glory and wealth? Or fear nothing and roam the realm, seeking freedom and abandon?

Song Chuyi would choose the latter without hesitation. Even if she died an unnatural death again, at least she would have once freely poured out her talents across this world – and she would have no regrets.

Song Chuyi touched the brocade pouch and decided to wait another half year before taking it – for now, in these six months, it was almost impossible to tell, so taking it would be a waste.

“Brother Yugui, you’re so stingy,” Song Chuyi said, setting down her teacup and climbing onto the bed. She thought to herself: if you’re going to give it, give medicine for a few decades – yet you gave only five years. What can five years accomplish? Just this trip persuading the various states will take more than half a year, and by the time this whole scheme is fully carried out, it’ll probably take one or two years.

Muttering about Xing Shou, she soon fell asleep again.

The next day, before dawn, the caravan set out.

A fine, thin snow was falling outside, with no wind. Song Chuyi, half-lidded, clutched Bairen and climbed into the carriage, then flopped onto the small couch and continued sleeping.

They traveled for two days. The snow never grew heavy, but the weather remained gloomy and overcast. Song Chuyi – who wouldn’t open her eyes without sunlight – actually slept for two whole days straight.

Then the weather cleared, and she had energy to spare. Every day she dragged Longgu Buwang into lessons, literally tormenting a vibrant young man spiritually until he was at death’s door – so much so that even drinking a slightly cold cup of water made him feel an inexplicable sense of desolation.

To escape this endless abuse, Longgu Buwang resolutely fell ill, terrifying the caravan’s two physicians out of their wits, who watched over him day and night.