Volume One, Chapter 10: Something's Wrong with the Plot!
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Zhao Wujiang knew her secret but had obviously not yet told the imperial brother. This young man’s stance was still unclear; she wanted to first understand Zhao Wujiang’s position.
After some deliberation, Li Zhaohua tried to extend goodwill.
“Child, you need not hide anything from me. Your father and my elder brother are sworn brothers, and since you are betrothed to Yunrui, I am, in a way, your aunt.”
Li Zhaohua stepped closer, a faint fragrance enveloping the air, and the two half-revealed snowy-white curves were almost dazzling.
“Come, tell your aunt, you’re surely not doing well, are you? How about this: I’ll have my servants send some silver coins to the Northern Pacification Prince’s mansion. Also, since you’ve come to the palace, it must be by the Emperor’s summons. You must learn to conceal your talents and restrain yourself. Our Emperor is not always merciful and forgiving; do you understand?”
Zhao Wujiang clearly sensed Li Zhaohua’s attempt to recruit him. Speaking ill of the Emperor was meant to sway him to the side of the Princess.
Strangely, did this alluring and cunning woman find some use in him?
Zhao Wujiang wished to avoid entanglement in palace conflicts.
Bowing slightly, he said, “Thank you, Princess, for your concern. If the Emperor summons me, I shall take my leave first.”
Li Zhaohua watched him leave with a smile in her eyes.
It was confirmed—Zhao Wujiang was aware of the power struggle between her and the imperial brother. Yet his stance remained ambiguous; further interaction was necessary.
Zhao Wujiang retraced his steps back to the Imperial Study, his mind swirling with thoughts.
In the original chronicles, Li Zhaohua was known as the most wanton woman in Great Xia. Li Zaiyuan knew her nature, but as long as she did not form factions or act selfishly, he cared little about other matters.
What Li Zaiyuan did not know was that Li Zhaohua was secretly building factions all along, feigning debauchery to confuse Li Zaiyuan and protect herself.
Eventually, Li Zhaohua was won over by Long Zhan, who gained her hidden power base, enabling him to stir upheaval within the Li Imperial Dynasty.
It could be said that possessing Li Zhaohua was akin to commanding one-third of the imperial power!
Back in the Imperial Study, Zhao Wujiang thought this contrived subplot—created solely for Long Zhan’s swagger—should finally conclude.
“Better to greet the Emperor and then go home,” he thought.
Before he could speak, Li Yunrui suddenly approached, linking arms with him.
Her voice carried a hint of reproach as she whispered, “Zhao Wujiang, why aren’t you going to the poetry contest? You’re clearly more talented than Long Zhan and Qianye Rizhao. Why not show off a little?”
“Where on earth did you get the idea that I’m talented?” Zhao Wujiang replied silently, maintaining his composure, unwilling to engage with Li Yunrui.
But Li Yunrui seemed to hear his unspoken thoughts and stamped her foot.
She believed her future husband should be unmatched in both literature and martial arts; he should never hide his talents.
Returning home in riches without recognition was like wearing splendid clothes and walking by night unseen.
Perhaps Zhao Wujiang felt insecure after the Northern Pacification Prince’s death.
As his betrothed, she ought to encourage and support him.
Just as Long Zhan was about to speak, Li Yunrui shouted first:
“Here’s the second line: ‘Often the master of rivers and mountains in mist and moonlight.’”
The lines matched perfectly, evoking a sense of carefree grandeur.
Long Zhan swallowed the words he had prepared.
Strangely, that exact line had just flashed through his mind. How did the Seventh Princess say it first?
Sure enough, she shared a spiritual connection with him and was meant to be his woman.
He marveled while imagining possibilities.
Qianye Rizhao glanced in surprise at the charming princess.
“‘Often the master of rivers and mountains in mist and moonlight’... well done, truly worthy of being my daughter!”
Li Zaiyuan was overjoyed; a lover of refined arts himself, his beloved daughter had evidently inherited his talent.
“Huh? Long Zhan hasn’t started showing off, yet the princess did first?”
“The plot’s off!”
As Zhao Wujiang puzzled, Li Yunrui’s next sentence rewound everyone’s emotions:
“Father, Zhao Wujiang taught me that!”
“Damn!”
“When did I teach you?”
“Don’t flatter me to death!”
Zhao Wujiang cursed inwardly.
He never wished to gain attention, nor did he ever teach Li Yunrui.
Long Zhan was startled, his face darkening: “Princess, please do not belittle yourself...”
Long Zhan could accept that the Seventh Princess shared a spiritual bond with him and could recite poetry before he did.
But he could never accept losing to a useless nobody like Zhao Wujiang.
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Qianye Rizhao’s eyes flickered as she said,
“Princess jokes... Very well, I shall compose another line and see if the heir Zhao can respond.”
“‘Iron shoulders bear the righteous cause; I ask the heir to match the latter half.’”
Zhao Wujiang feigned deep contemplation, pretending to be at a loss.
He had no intention of showing off.
Li Yunrui looked on expectantly.
Li Zaiyuan scrutinized Zhao Wujiang.
Seeing no sign that Zhao Wujiang could respond, he breathed a slight sigh of relief.
Apparently, his precious daughter did not want to see Zhao fall behind Long Zhan, deliberately claiming Zhao had taught her the line.
Qianye Rizhao gave Zhao Wujiang some time to think.
When he still failed to answer, she sneered,
“Your Highness need not worry nor blame yourself. Your father was defeated by Hansang; if you cannot respond to my poem as the Hansang envoy, then you truly follow in your father’s footsteps, ha!”
Qianye Rizhao’s words struck Zhao Wujiang’s softest spot.
A loyal and patriotic border war god who died protecting his homeland—
How could an enemy nation dare to come and mock his grave?
“Here is the latter half: ‘Skillful hands compose the writings.’”
Zhao Wujiang’s words instantly wiped away Qianye Rizhao’s mocking smile.
“This...”
“Well done, perfect!” Li Yunrui approached, eyes full of admiration, linking arms with Zhao Wujiang, glaring at Qianye Rizhao, then looking to Li Zaiyuan. “Father, I told you Zhao Wujiang was talented, didn’t I?”
Li Zaiyuan nodded in satisfaction.
“Impossible, you!” Qianye Rizhao tried to retort.
But Zhao Wujiang, now ready to counterattack, seized the initiative and said coldly,
“If the Hansang envoy is not convinced, would she care to respond?”
Leaving Qianye Rizhao no chance to refuse.
“The waters of the Yellow River come from the sky, rushing to the sea, never to return...”
“Pity the few drops of Bodhi water, poured into the two red lotus petals...”
“A golden needle pierces the peach blossom’s core, dare not raise voice, frowning in secret...”
“Mandarin ducks in the quilt share a paired night, a pear blossom presses down the begonia...”
“Yes, you respond!”
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