Chapter Thirty-Four: An Eager Heart Longs for Home

Seventh Year of King Zheng of Qin

Third Month, Seventh Day

The once peaceful street was suddenly shattered by a thunderous explosion that tore through the sky. The startled crowd turned to find the source, quickly gathering in throngs before the Zilan Pavilion, their curiosity piqued by the large painting hanging at its entrance.

On the painting, a man and a woman nestled together beneath a peach tree. Beside them, a line of calligraphy read: “What is love in this world, that life and death are willingly pledged for it?” At the very top, two large characters were boldly inscribed: “Liang and Zhu.”

The crowd buzzed with intrigue—what was the Zilan Pavilion planning now?

Another notice was posted, announcing that there would be no public performance today; the event was open only to the nobility, free of charge, with a public day scheduled for the ninth. This only heightened the onlookers’ curiosity about what awaited inside. The nobles of Xinzheng were notoriously difficult to please—if they left dissatisfied, this business would not survive. Was the proprietor truly so confident?

At the same time, Li Yu sent out invitations, instructing his servants that all guests must bring their families, and that all expenses would be covered.

Ordinarily, few would have paid much attention to these invitations. But days earlier, Han Fei had lavished praise upon Li Yu in the royal court. Thanks to Han Fei’s endorsement, the Zilan Pavilion was packed that evening.

When Zhang Kaidi entered the Zilan Pavilion with Zhang Liang, he found it quite different from what he had imagined. The decor radiated a solemn grandeur.

Han Fei himself looked resigned, casting a helpless glance at the young girl beside him, Little Peach Blossom.

Who, in their mischief, had told her of the event, even threatening him with hidden wine?

“It’s nothing much, really! Why is Brother Wang so evasive?” Red Lotus said, her large eyes sparkling as she glanced about curiously.

Even Han Fei was drawn in by the decor—solemn, magnificent, yet entirely divorced from the usual air of debauchery such places carried.

It hadn’t looked like this just ten days ago! Such efficiency!

Han Fei had never heard of a three-shift system; otherwise, his curiosity might have been sated.

Quickly, his attention was drawn to the center stage.

None among the guests had ever seen a stage like this—miniature rockeries, a peach tree, scaled-down houses, as if a tiny world had been conjured before their eyes.

Next, Han Fei’s eyes were caught by a group of girls in striking attire.

Clad in short black skirts, with cat ears perched atop their heads and black fishnet stockings, they lined up before the stage, greeting the audience in unison: “Welcome!” They then parted to guide the guests to their seats.

As the guests marveled at all the novel sights, the hall suddenly darkened, leaving only the stage bathed in light.

Amid the resulting confusion, a beautiful young woman appeared at center stage, dressed in a qipao, holding a curious object resembling a morning glory. She spoke into it, her voice amplified: “Honored guests of Xinzheng, do not be alarmed. I am Qingqing. With the arrival of a new master at the Zilan Pavilion, we have chosen to reinvent ourselves. Tonight, our sisters join together to bring you joy, thanks to the master’s guidance. Without further ado, let us begin!”

As her words fell, a heavy drumbeat resonated, echoing deep within the chest. Then a medley of sounds blended together—loud, yet rhythmic—filling the audience with a strange exhilaration.

The stage lights flickered and flashed, prompting the audience’s curiosity—how was this effect achieved?

Glancing upward, they saw someone on the ceiling manipulating the firelight’s direction through a black cylinder, at the end of which was a semi-translucent, colored gauze.

What a leap of imagination! Han Fei was genuinely impressed.

As the tempo quickened, a group of girls in black dresses entered. Their outfits resembled those of the earlier greeters, differing only in detail. Each held a small folding fan.

As the music accelerated, so did their dancing—simple and joyful movements unlike the popular dances of the day, easy enough for even ordinary people to imitate. Many in the audience began to sway along with the beat.

Then, one girl stepped forward and began to sing “To the Bright Moon.”

Li Yu had considered copying the Han girl group formula directly but decided it was too risky; a touch of ancient Chinese style would be safer. After all, too bold a step could lead to disaster.

Zhang Kaidi found the atmosphere overwhelming, but endured it, his main aim being to see Li Yu. Thus far, Li Yu’s imagination truly soared beyond convention.

But this was not enough—he would continue to observe.

As the performance reached its climax, the music began to fade. The girls exited in an orderly fashion, leaving the audience longing for more, especially Han Fei, who was the first to call for an encore.

Qingqing emerged once more, speaking into her megaphone: “Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes!” Han Fei led the reply.

To an outsider, it might have seemed he was a plant hired by Li Yu.

“You may have enjoyed it, but the girls are tired. In two days, you can return to see the show again. Now, for our main event—Liang and Zhu. Please enjoy.”

With a bow, Qingqing withdrew.

The stage lights dimmed, but the audience, having observed the technical trick earlier, waited in silence for what would come next.

A new, unfamiliar sound rang out as the melody of “Liang and Zhu” began. A single beam of light illuminated a corner of the stage, where a woman sat beside a peculiar instrument, her fingers dancing across its strings. The sound emanated from it.

Many recognized her—the proprietress of Zilan Pavilion, Lady Zi. But tonight, Lady Zi wore no heavy makeup nor a provocative dress; instead, she was dressed modestly in a fitted gown.

Li Yu had prepared a dress for her, but Lady Zi had chosen not to wear it, saving it for his eyes alone. She had selected a different gown for tonight’s performance.

As the music concluded, the lights rose on a new scene—a private school, with an elder teaching as students listened intently.

The story began…

When the tale reached the part where Zhu Yingtai returned home and Ma Wencai came to propose, the stage lights dimmed once more as the music of “Liang and Zhu” resumed.

The audience awaited the next act, but when the lights rose again, the stage was empty, the set vanished.

As Qingqing reappeared, the audience protested.

Qingqing reassured them: “No need for impatience. In two days, Zhu Yingtai will meet you again. After all, even she needs rest, does she not?”

Han Fei gallantly called out, “Yes, our Yingtai needs her rest. There’s no rush, we’ll return in two days!”

“Thank you for the performance, Zilan Pavilion. I shall take my leave,” Han Fei said, pulling a reluctant Red Lotus from the hall.

The others followed suit, for at some point Wei Zhuang, white-haired and cold-eyed, stood at the center of the stage, glaring fiercely at the audience with his sword in hand.

Backstage, the girls leapt with joy—the audience’s response proved the opening a great success.

Had Old Wei not threatened them with his sword, they might never have left!

With the night’s performance concluded, Li Yu gathered the girls for a novel meal. The table was set; all that was needed were ingredients and utensils.

Soon, various charcoal hot pots were placed, and the girls clustered in groups of three or five, learning from Li Yu how to cook hot pot.

This new way of dining once again refreshed the girls’ view of Li Yu.

“Madam, how is it that Master knows everything?” one girl asked Lady Zi.

Lady Zi smiled, saying nothing, watching Li Yu cook lamb for her, her heart warmed.

Because he was Li Yu! The only prince of Qin, the cleverest man under heaven.

After the meal, everyone retired to their rooms.

Li Yu, cheerful as ever, followed Lady Zi into her private chambers.

It was Li Yu’s first time in her bedroom—fresh and elegant, the furnishings laid out clearly. A sheer curtain divided the room, the inner part for washing and dressing, the outer with a bed.

Just as Li Yu was about to lie down, Lady Zi patted his shoulder. “Go wash up, you smell rather strong.”

Li Yu sniffed himself and laughed, “That’s hot pot for you. Shall I go wash? Or shall we wash together?” he teased.

Lady Zi pushed him toward the inner chamber, where water steamed, already drawn.

As Li Yu scrubbed himself, he hummed a tune: “Worldly passion is endless, grievances never told, generation after generation, all is fate…”

Just as he finished, Lady Zi’s voice came through the curtain: “Li Yu, that song is lovely—does it have a name?”

“Not Li Yu—call me husband! It’s called ‘Love the Rivers and Mountains, Love the Beauty More.’ I’m quite fond of it,” he replied.

“That title suits you,” she said.

“Of course!” Li Yu replied, almost proud.

The candlelight was extinguished.

Lady Zi knew what would happen next.

Li Yu embraced her from behind, whispering in her ear, “Don’t be afraid—I’m here.”

Afraid of you, she thought.

His hands climbed her body, seeking those long-dreamed-of summits.

He sensed her tension and gently turned her to face him, kissing her soft lips, lifting her in his arms toward the bed.

Li Yu’s skill in undressing her left nothing to be desired; in moments, Lady Zi was bare against him.

He kissed her feet, then slowly moved upward, venturing into that mysterious meadow.

Though it was her first time, Lady Zi was not without knowledge of such matters.

But never had she encountered a man like Li Yu, who treated a woman as a work of art, attentive to her every feeling.

A truly good man.

Unable to help herself, Lady Zi pressed his head closer.

When the time was right, Li Yu, full of passion, entered her.

With a muffled gasp, the final curtain fell.

Lady Zi had become a wife.

The night sky over Xinzheng shone bright once more. Having experienced such a night before, the people were not alarmed; instead, they gathered in twos and threes, gazing at the celestial spectacle, discussing and giving their opinions.

Because it was her first night, Li Yu was gentle, holding Lady Zi close as they talked quietly.

She was especially curious about his time in Qin, and Li Yu only recounted the important parts—surely he would not speak of other women while in the arms of one! That would be most callous.

Besides, she had just given him her first night—there would be time for everything.

“Li Yu, what do you think our future will be?” she asked softly.

“Five years. In five years, I’ll give you the grandest wedding in the world, and then we’ll travel together across the land,” Li Yu said, dreaming aloud as he gazed at the ceiling, picturing a journey with all his beloved women.

How shameless.

…

A new day dawned.

Sunlight streamed through the wooden window.

Lady Zi’s long lashes fluttered; she stretched languidly.

She hadn’t slept so well in ages.

Opening her eyes, she saw Li Yu standing at the table, gazing at her.

She blushed, hastily pulling the quilt over herself.

“My dear, you are truly beautiful,” Li Yu said sincerely.

Some women shine with makeup, but some are lovelier in natural simplicity.

Lady Zi was such a one—her beauty greater with only a touch of powder.

“My dear wife, let me help you dress,” Li Yu said eagerly, approaching.

“No need, I can manage,” Lady Zi quickly stopped his hand from reaching for her undergarments.

“We’re an old married couple, what’s there to be shy about? You’re so adorable,” Li Yu teased, but did not insist, turning to the table instead.

“My dear, I made you egg custard this morning—try it!” He brought over a bowl of porridge.

He scooped a spoonful, blew on it, and held it to her lips.

Unable to refuse, Lady Zi tasted it.

“How is it? Not to your liking? I’ll make adjustments,” Li Yu asked with concern.

“Husband, there’s no need to fuss. I’m not so delicate. Set it aside, I’ll eat in bed in a bit.” Unaccustomed to such attentiveness, Lady Zi felt a little overwhelmed.

Li Yu nodded, placing the bowl on the table.

“The Zilan Pavilion is closed today. Shall we go out for a spring outing?” he suggested.

“As you wish,” she replied.

“Then I’ll make preparations. No need for you to go out just yet,” he said, leaving.

Lady Zi wondered why he wanted her to stay put—until she heard voices outside:

“Good morning, Master!”

“Master, is it time for red envelopes?”

“Master, is Madam… well?”

“Master, when will you and Madam marry?”

“Master, you look so dashing today!”

“Master, don’t forget your disciples now that you have Madam!”

“Master, do I still have a chance?”

“Master, does Madam like the porridge?”

…

Lady Zi was speechless—what chaos.

…

It was the third month, when Yangzhou is said to be most beautiful—but Yangzhou was out of reach; the countryside would suffice.

Spring was the season of burgeoning life.

Everything was sprouting. Willows swayed, their tips touching the water, sending ripples out. “In the mist beyond the green willows, the morning chill is slight”—the world was a sea of tender green, cool and gentle.

By late spring, with drifting willow catkins, it would be another wondrous scene.

The girls laughed and played in the grass, flying kites, roasting fish, weaving flower baskets.

Lady Zi could hardly believe she could have a day so carefree, as if she could cast aside all worries and simply enjoy the peace of nature.

This was her dream—a life of simplicity.

The Palace of Han

King An of Han sat heavily on his throne, his body bloated, his gaze weary, his face sallow—a man drained of vitality.

“Chancellor, from your observations yesterday, does Li Yu possess true talent?” King An asked Zhang Kaidi.

Zhang Kaidi stepped forward. “Sire, in my humble view, that Fang Yu is quite learned in the ways of merchants. As for other talents, time will tell.”

Han Fei now spoke up. “Father, why not summon Fang Yu to court? Gold or stone, only fire reveals the truth.”

General Wei Wuji joined in. “Ninth Prince, do you mean to keep His Majesty endlessly busy with such tests?”

King An turned to his fourth son. “Han Yu, go and assess him for me.”

Prince Han Yu stepped forward, bowed, and accepted.

Han Fei could only sigh and withdraw.

…

After a day of leisure, the girls were tired but excited, chirping like a flock of colorful birds.

Watching them, Li Yu felt a surge of contentment—people’s desires were really quite simple; it was life that forced them to bow their heads.

He believed he could bring happiness not only to Lady Zi, but to all these women.

It was the world’s circumstance, not one man alone, that shaped such fates. That was why Li Yu needed Ying Zheng’s help—and the support of like-minded friends.

But where to find such friends?

He saw Han Fei standing outside Zilan Pavilion, drinking alone.

“Which lady are you waiting for, Brother Han?” Li Yu greeted him.

Han Fei, seeing Li Yu leading a group of girls, stepped forward. “Where have you been, Brother Fang?”

“Just a little work-life balance, taking the ladies out for spring air,” Li Yu replied.

“Spring air?” Han Fei was puzzled.

“Appreciating the beauty of spring,” Li Yu clarified.

“You truly cherish jade,” Han Fei said, clasping his hands in admiration.

“My name has ‘jade’ in it—I must cherish it,” Li Yu laughed.

The two entered Zilan Pavilion, heading straight for the upper floor.

“Wife, bring out the good wine,” Li Yu called to Lady Zi.

Han Fei’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “My respect, Brother Fang. In just days, you’ve won your beauty.”

Li Yu smiled proudly. “I treat people with sincerity. Of course my wife cares for me and won’t let me wait long. Sincerity cracks even gold and stone.”

“Wise words, Brother Fang. Sincerity is good, but so difficult to achieve,” Han Fei sighed.

Lady Zi served the wine and poured tea for Li Yu, and Han Fei’s eyes brimmed with envy.

He turned to Lady Zi. “Of all the people under heaven, which genius designed the layout of Zilan Pavilion? May I be introduced?”

Lady Zi blushed. “My younger brother designed it.”

“Oh? Is he of the Ghost Valley School?” Han Fei asked.

Li Yu was startled—Han Fei was truly perceptive.

No wonder he was famed through history—none of the great men were simple, especially the ones with “zi” in their names.

Seeing Lady Zi hesitate, Li Yu said, “Wife, go see if your brother is willing to come out.”

He poured Han Fei a cup of wine. “Did you come here today for Ghost Valley, Brother Han?”

Han Fei smiled. “Not only that. And for you, Brother Fang—would you consider serving at court?”

Li Yu laughed. “You asked me last time, Brother Han. Have you secured your footing in court already?”

Han Fei scratched his head awkwardly and summarized the recent events.

As Li Yu listened, he compared King An of Han to Ying Zheng of Qin. There was no comparison—like earth to heaven, a mere insult to Ying Zheng.

The hunger for talent in Qin and the indifference in Han would make anyone choose Qin.

Han Fei mentioned that King An had asked Han Yu to assess Li Yu, so he should be prepared.

Li Yu cared little for such things. If not for her, he wouldn’t even bother with King An.

Soon, Lady Zi returned, and with her came the icy Wei Zhuang. With him around, Zilan Pavilion would need no air-cooling in summer.

Han Fei studied Wei Zhuang, who met his gaze. “Are you the one seeking me?”

Han Fei bowed. “I am Han Fei, disciple of Xunzi.”

Though proud, Wei Zhuang knew basic courtesy. “Wei Zhuang of Ghost Valley.”

“Ghost Valley has always had two disciples. Where is the other?” Han Fei pressed.

Wei Zhuang did not answer.

Li Yu quickly spoke up. “Qin. This generation of Ghost Valley is odd—not scheming but sword-wielding. I’ve never understood it.”

Wei Zhuang’s eyes grew cold, clearly displeased at Li Yu’s remarks.

Li Yu smiled apologetically. “Swordplay is fine! When the world is united and schemes are no longer needed, at least the sword can protect you.”

The more he explained, the darker Wei Zhuang’s face became, so Han Fei quickly changed the subject. “When one man’s anger can terrify the lords, and his peace brings rest to the world—since you are in Xinzheng, you have made your choice.”

He continued, “I wish to form an organization.”

“Physical life is always fragile, but invisible power can be indestructible.”

“I will name it ‘Drifting Sand.’”

“The laws of heaven and earth, executed without fail.”

“I wish to create a new Han, without the Night’s Curtain, without the Four Evil Generals, and without Ji Wuye.”

Wei Zhuang replied coolly, “That does not interest me.”

Han Fei pressed on. “In this world, all are chess pieces. I wish to be the player. The seven kingdoms—I want ninety-nine.”

“Now there is a Li Yu in Qin. I wish to play a game with him. That is why I hurried back to Xinzheng.”

Li Yu was speechless—so Han Fei returned for him all along.

Noticing Lady Zi’s teasing look, he scratched the back of her hand. She quickly withdrew it.

But Han Fei’s proposal finally caught Wei Zhuang’s interest.

Wei Zhuang was a madman—had Han Fei aimed only for local games, Wei Zhuang would not care. But “I want ninety-nine” was a challenge he could not resist.

Li Yu thought Han Fei had a knack for mobilizing people—he’d do well in army logistics.

But Li Yu himself was not so easily moved. This was no hot-blooded anime where a rousing speech would ignite everyone.

Han was a mess—even Zhuge Liang would be wasted here.

History would bear this out. Did anyone think the wise kings of Qin were idle?

Besides, in terms of fate, all signs pointed to Qin’s destiny to unify the land—too many coincidences to ignore.

Still, he played along.

“Brother Han, you think too highly of Li Yu,” he said.

Han Fei smiled. “He’s not simple. From entering the spotlight to becoming a prince in a month, in a meritocratic Qin—there must be more than meets the eye.”

Li Yu sighed inwardly—he’d been as low-profile as possible, even having Ying Zheng forbid his portrait from being circulated.

“Will your Drifting Sand have only us as members?” Li Yu asked.

“Zhang Zifang can be recruited. The group need not be large at first. What we need most now is an informant within the enemy ranks,” Han Fei replied.

Li Yu nodded solemnly. “True, we are in the shadows, they in the light. If Han Yu seeks me out tomorrow, I’ll try to gain his trust and enter the court.”

Han Fei was deeply moved—he knew Li Yu cared little for politics and only did this for his sake.

If only Li Yu knew Han Fei’s thoughts, he would have said: You think too much—I have other reasons for infiltrating.

As their discussion ended with Han Fei somewhat tipsy, Li Yu watched him go, then slipped into Lady Zi’s chambers.

She seemed to have a question. “If you’re in Han, won’t Qin miss you? Won’t people suspect if you’re gone too long?”

Li Yu smiled. “Ying Zheng found me a body double. I only need to show up at court now and then. Besides…”

He leaned in and whispered, “Your husband has a special skill—guaranteed foolproof.”

“What skill?” she asked, curious.

He grinned. “Want to see?”

She rolled her eyes. “Who cares?”

Li Yu put on a wounded look.

With a sigh, she relented, “Fine, fine, I want to see.”

He stood in an open spot, closed his eyes, and soon his body blurred, a double image appearing and then, in less than ten breaths, splitting off into a clear duplicate.

Lady Zi gaped in astonishment.

Li Yu smiled. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

She pointed at the nude double. “Is he real?”

“Of course! We are one soul in two bodies—I am him, he is me!” said the duplicate.

Li Yu grinned. “Isn’t it wonderful to have two husbands?”

The duplicate chimed in, “Shall we try it?”

Knowing what he intended, Lady Zi tried to run, but Li Yu caught her.

~~~

Morning sunlight filled the room.

Lady Zi felt she didn’t want to move all day.

That wretched Li Yu.

He’d had twice the pleasure, but Li Yu had been gentle for her sake, and she knew it.

Opening her eyes, she saw one Li Yu kneeling at the table, stirring porridge.

“Where’s the other one?” she asked, scanning the room.

“He went to Qin—had something to do,” Li Yu replied.

It felt like ages since he’d returned to Qin—he missed it, even if he could only go in secret.

Zhao Ji, Flame Consort, Liu Feixu, and the dancer from the steppes…

I miss you all.

…

On a narrow path, Li Yu drove his carriage alone toward Qin, impatient to return.

Only now did he realize—he should have left a double in Qin from the start.

At first he’d worried that distance would break the connection, but after meeting Jing Ni and Lady Zi, he felt his spiritual strength had grown many times since leaving Xianyang.