Beauty, Power and Intrigue Chapter 80

It should be the maid who brought the clothes over. Song Chuyi called out, “White Blade.”

White Blade immediately dropped all guardedness and darted to Song Chuyi’s side.

“Zi Zhao, in serving a powerful lord, you must give him your whole heart, even if he does not prize it.” Song Chuyi reached out and rubbed White Blade’s head, saying, “Calmness, vigilance, concealment. These are the words I give you.”

Zi Zhao pondered for a moment. “I understand vigilance and calmness, but conceal what?”

“If greed arises, conceal it. If feelings of love for the Lord of Qin arise, conceal them from everyone other than the Lord of Qin. If there is no love for the Lord of Qin, still conceal it…” Song Chuyi offered a few examples.

In other words, conceal all of one’s own desires and emotions, presenting to outsiders an image of having no wants and no demands, and of absolute loyalty. This would help her reduce some of the hostility in the rear palace, but whether she could thrive would still depend on her methods in the shadows.

At a sovereign’s side, beauties were never lacking. Most rulers were also rather indifferent to romantic matters and had little time to devote to them. Therefore, to attract his attention, one first needed beauty, and second, a heart of exquisite cunning.

Song Chuyi was not optimistic about the current Zi Zhao. Ordinary men would hardly overlook her looks, so winning favor might not be difficult, but she was still too innocent and kindhearted, and might not be able to establish herself in the palace.

If she was fortunate, after a period of tempering she might yet amount to something.

“Zhao has received the teaching.” Zi Zhao bowed, and after rising, hesitated before saying, “Master… Ya…”

Zi Zhao was conflicted. She both hoped the sisters could enter the Qin palace together, and hoped that Zi Ya could stay far away from such struggles over power and right and wrong.

Song Chuyi said, “Her temperament needs to be tempered. She will stay by my side. If you can gain a firm foothold in the Qin palace, perhaps there will one day be a reunion of sisters.”

Song Chuyi still needed to observe for a while longer. Zi Ya was a woman full of calculation and very resilient. Being strong-willed was no fault either, so long as she was not an ingrate who could never be tamed. Song Chuyi was willing to prepare a better way out for her than for Zi Zhao.

Outside, hurried and disordered footsteps rang out, and a guard officer clad in black armor burst in with his men.

Everyone froze when they saw White Blade lying at Song Chuyi’s feet.

As long as White Blade stayed by Song Chuyi’s side, it would not bare its fangs at the slightest provocation, so toward the group that rushed in, it merely lifted its eyelids lazily.

“Just now we heard from the maids that a wolf had broken in. We did not know it was kept by you, and have disturbed your peace. Please mete out punishment.” The leading black-armored guard bowed with clasped hands.

That was what he said, but Song Chuyi was a foreign envoy – what right did she have to punish them? Still, they had made a full show of humility, and so the matter was mutually dropped. Song Chuyi smiled faintly. “No harm. This little creature I keep is fond of stirring up trouble. Thank you all for your trouble.”

“Grateful for your grace in not punishing us.” The guard performed a salute and said, “I take my leave.”

As the guards withdrew, their gazes drifted toward Zi Zhao almost in unison. That beautiful face was secondary; the main thing was that her figure was truly “breathtaking.”

The maid tremblingly carried the clothes in and placed them on the small table before Song Chuyi. “Master, the clothes are ready.”

Song Chuyi gave an “mm” and dismissed the maid.

“I will attend Master in changing clothes,” Zi Zhao said.

Song Chuyi said, “Go back and rest well. Call Ning Ya over.”

Zi Zhao’s eyes reddened, and she lowered her head and said softly, “Yes.”

Song Chuyi looked at that heartbroken expression, and once the sound of footsteps had faded into the distance, she could not help but stroke her chin and say to White Blade, “Seems I still have the makings of a flirt. Pity I’m short a few…”

“Master.” Ning Ya came in with her head lowered.

Song Chuyi liked Ning Ya very much – simple, pure, not too clever, and perhaps for that very reason, she had few petty schemes.

With Ning Ya attending her, Song Chuyi changed into black Qin-style robes, then took Ning Ya and Jian to go find Ji Huan and Longgu Buwang so they could set out together.

It was just past noon, the busiest time in Xianyang.

Xianyang lay in the heart of Qin. This Qin capital, only some twenty-odd years newly built, was grand in scale and full of vitality. The former Qin capital Yueyang had been the largest market for the buying and selling of people; when it came to doing business in Qin, it was mostly the people trade. Now merchants gathered from all directions, and the streets and alleys were bustling beyond compare.

“Xianyang isn’t bad, but this one thing is annoying.” Longgu Buwang frowned and slapped the dust from his clothes. “I’m afraid one would have to bathe three times a day to stay clean.”

Song Chuyi pushed him aside with a look of disgust. “Go slap yourself off somewhere else.”

Compared with the former capital Yueyang, Xianyang was already several times better. Most of the time it was not this dusty; it was only that winter had little rain and the climate was somewhat dry.

The Yangcheng where Song Chuyi had once lived was not far from Xianyang. She had spent half her time in Qin’s Xianyang, and most of her experience had been on this land of Longxi. Drawing on memories from her past life, she led the group to find a blacksmith’s shop hidden deep in a narrow alley.

The group entered the small courtyard and saw seven or eight bare-chested men forging iron. Song Chuyi’s gaze lingered for a couple of breaths on one of them, a lean and sturdy young man.

The man felt Song Chuyi’s gaze, glanced at her, then turned his head toward the house and called out, “Old man, we’ve got business.”

After a moment, an old man with graying hair and beard, leaning on a mulberry-wood cane, slowly came out of the house. He lifted his loose, sagging eyelids and looked the group over. “What do you wish to have forged?”

Song Chuyi was slightly surprised – this old man looked about as old as he would ten years later. She bowed with clasped hands and softly uttered three words: “A sharp sword.”

“You have come to the wrong place. I only forge ordinary things here. I can forge a sword too, but whether it will be sharp, I dare not guarantee.” The old man stood at the doorway, showing no intention of inviting them inside.

Song Chuyi leaned forward slightly and lowered her voice. “Double the price, and I also have a secret recipe for monkey wine to offer. How about it?”

The old man narrowed his eyes and sized Song Chuyi up for a good while. “I will reluctantly give it a try.”

With that, he turned and went inside. Song Chuyi gestured to Ji Yu and the others to follow.

The outer room was piled full of iron and copper chunks of every shape, leaving scarcely any room to set foot. Passing through a small door, suddenly all was bright. The room was clean and simple, without any decoration – wooden walls, bamboo blinds, and a few mats. A cool fragrance hung faintly in the room, and looking up, one could see outside a stretch of blooming green-calyx plum blossoms. So it turned out these were two connected courtyards. A cold wind blew through the hall, and Song Chuyi shivered.

“Sit wherever you like.” After the old man sat down, he gestured with his hand.

The others could still choose a spot out of the wind, but since Song Chuyi had to talk with the old man, she could only sit with him in the draft.

“The formula,” the old man said.

Song Chuyi smiled faintly. “How could such a precious thing be written down? It’s all here.” Song Chuyi pointed to her head.

The old man nodded slightly. “Reasonable. What kind of sword do you want forged?”

“I need four three-foot sharp swords and one short sword for the sleeve. I don’t understand swords, so I’ll leave it to you to forge as you see fit.” Song Chuyi knew that this renowned swordsmith disliked others making random demands.

The old man’s drooping eyes could not help but open wide as he scrutinized Song Chuyi carefully. He smacked his lips and said, “You, young man, have grasped my preferences so precisely – could it be that you are an acquaintance?”

“My father was an astrologer,” Song Chuyi said.

The old man pondered for a moment, then said, “Mm, I remember. I heard he starved to death a few years ago.”

We were at least acquaintances – couldn’t you be a little more tactful? Song Chuyi’s mouth twitched. “It was more than ten years ago.”

That was how news spread in this era. Song Chuyi’s father had not been a famous scholar, so only people who knew him well would occasionally mention him. Word passed from mouth to mouth, and it always came out as “a few years ago.” The reliability of the news was truly hard to guarantee.

“So that’s how it was. Whoever spread that rumor was rather lacking in virtue.” The old man sighed, then continued, “Starving to death – such a shameful matter – and yet it was spread everywhere.”

Longgu Buwang thought to himself, this old man had cursed others and himself along with them. With so many people in the room, wasn’t his saying it openly and without restraint also spreading rumors? But then, who in this world had not starved to death besides Song Chuyi’s father? It was just that as an astrologer, he could be considered to possess a specialized skill, yet he had starved to death outright. In an age when the talented thrived best, this could only prove that he was rather lofty and pure – and that his abilities were poor.

Longgu Buwang mused privately, how could he have produced someone like the master?

“Come fetch the swords in half a month,” the old man said.

“Old man, I am in a hurry to travel. Could they be ready in seven days?” Song Chuyi asked.

The old man folded his arms and stared at her without speaking.

“Add the plum blossom wine formula,” Song Chuyi said.

“…”

“The heartbreak wine,” Song Chuyi said through gritted teeth.

The old man swallowed and asked, “It sounds like strong liquor.”

Song Chuyi said, “Naturally. Three bowls, and you’re guaranteed to be drunk for three days and nights.”

“Come, come, write the formulas.” The old man produced brush, ink, and bamboo slips from somewhere and set them on the table.

Song Chuyi rolled her eyes inwardly, reached out with her frozen hands, took up the brush, and swiftly wrote down three wine formulas.

The agreement reached, the group was shooed out the way they had come, and the old man happily took the formulas off to experiment.

“Master, can the swords really be fetched in seven days?” Longgu Buwang was somewhat doubtful. A sword forged in seven days – could it be a sharp weapon?

Song Chuyi said, “He has plenty of fine swords. There is no need for him to forge them specially. It is only that the old man has an odd temperament and does not wish to trade on the spot.”

“Sir, your Longxi accent is excellent,” Ji Yu said. Although he could not speak Qin speech, he could tell accents apart.

Song Chuyi smiled faintly. “You knew I could speak more than Qin speech, so why didn’t you praise me earlier?”

Longgu Buwang was not much interested in this and only asked, “Master, among those four sharp swords, may I have one?”

“They were forged for you few in the first place. The swords produced by this shop, though not comparable to Longyuan or Tai’e, are absolutely rare treasures. They never sell easily, and to date fewer than a hundred of their swords have been sold. My father once gave the old man a wine formula, and only on account of that connection was he willing to relent,” Song Chuyi said.

Things that others could not obtain no matter how they begged seemed almost within easy reach for Song Chuyi. In truth, it was simply that Song Chuyi knew she had a favorable rapport with the old man. What she had possessed in her past life, she would not give up.

Ji Yu fell silent, feeling that he had gauged a gentleman by the measure of a petty man. Song Chuyi had sought good swords for them, yet he had just now doubted her.

Song Chuyi’s peripheral gaze swept across Ji Yu’s face, and her brow arched slightly.

She had long harbored the intention of winning Ji Yu over, but she knew his will was firm – once he had settled on something, he could never be moved by a few words. Therefore, she had deliberately revealed a thoroughly authentic Longxi accent to provoke his suspicion, and then let him discover that her intentions had actually been painstaking and well-meant.

Song Chuyi had used such little tricks the whole way. Though they might not work on everyone, for someone like Ji Yu, they could not have been more suitable.