Princess Agents - 特工皇妃楚喬傳, Chapter 186, English novel translation

Princess Agents - 特工皇妃楚喬傳 

Head Notes:  Is it him, or isn’t it?   Honestly, as smart as she is, it seems unlikely for her to conclude this is anyone else.  Who else would visit the dishonored dead with the chilling north wind at his back?  The author seems to write her main heroine into a corner though, consistently seeming to be tired, sleepy and otherwise indifferent to the world around her.  However, I wonder if Chu Qiao was really fooled or if she’s pretending not to know. Yan Xun is up to something.  Considering there are only 191 chapters in this novel, whatever it is, it will be short lived.  Hopefully we will reach our happy ending without much fuss from Yan Xun.

Chapter 186: The Winds of Yan are Coming

For a moment, Chu Qiao thought she had seen Yan Xun again.  (TN: *whispers* ummm…. maybe because it’s him, yo….)

Not a single thread of moonlight was seen outside; only the whistling, snow laden wind was outside, blowing onto people’s faces like ice cold blades.  The man stood there wrapped in a cloak that only revealed a pair of deep, penetrating eyes, fixedly watching her through layers of snowfall.  The candles in the room were extinguished instantly when the door had opened, and only faint flashes of glimmering snow reflected in the heavy night, making the obscure figure even more oppressive.

It seemed a long time had passed, and yet it could have only been a moment.  The man slowly lifted his foot, lowering his head slightly, a faint hint of tiredness seeping through his step.  A rail thin, gnarled hand reached for his mouth and he coughed softly.

Someone closed the door and the three of them stood within the narrow and cramped mourning hall looking rather cramped.  The hunched-back retainer dressed in black deftly reignited the candles inside, and the faint light slowly illuminated all around.  They cast light upon the man’s white hair underneath his hood as well as the wrinkled hands beneath the sleeves of his robe.

The chair Chu Qiao had used to keep the door closed was wiped clean by the servant.  The man sat down as he coughed, body bent, and it was faintly apparent how frail and feeble the body was beneath the clothes.

Chu Qiao continued to stand there, as she did from the moment they came in, and said nothing.  She even had some doubts as to why this kind of ill and frail person would cause her to be so alarmed, to the point that she even thought it was Yan Xun.

The servant retreated, and stood beside the door.  His whole body was hidden in the shadow of the firelight, lowered his head and acted like he was a voiceless stone.

The dim light gently cast down, and the wind flowed in from the missing tiles in the roof.  It moaned as it blew, and the blinking candlelight looked as if they would blow out at any moment. 

The man suddenly lifted his head, his pair of deep, black eyes watching her, unexpectedly saying, “The snow storm tonight is really big.”

Chu Qiao was startled.  For reasons unknown she felt a trace of unspeakable tension when facing this person.  It was as if there was a steady stream of low key oppression emitting from his person, gradually filling the entire room.  (TN: face palm) Even his breathing became low.

“True.  It is indeed big,” she nodded, speaking quietly.

“It’s been so many years since we’ve had such a big snow.”   His voice revealed an unconcealed hoary and tired timbre, suggesting he was quite aged.  “It seems fifteen years ago there was also such big snowstorm.  In from of the Fu Yin Gate, even the old pagoda tree was blown down.”

Fifteen years ago….

That was the same year the House of Yan fell.  In that bitter cold winter they withdrew to a dilapidated building in the southern part of the city.  They had to burn everything within, or else be covered in frostbite.

“Was this year’s Lantern Festival lively?”

The person asked this question quite naturally, as if they were old friends who had known one another for a long time.

Chu Qiao tilted her head slightly, saying, “Heaven is uncooperative, disturbing a rather good festival.  Grandfather, did you come to see the lanterns, only to have the snow drive you in here as well?”

He laughed slightly, saying, “With this kind of body, where would I have the energy to see the lanterns?”

Chu Qiao raised her brows slightly, and asked in a low voice, “Then mister, did you come here especially to visit His Highness?”

Even though she could not see his face, Chu Qiao still imagine his silent smile.

Suddenly, the sound of a long, drawn out bell and drums reverberated from the distance.  It was the watchman’s chime for the 18th hour of the Lantern Festival, just atop TianCheng Tower of the palace.  Operated by Qin Tianjian and a renown monk, it oversaw the recitation of scripture to Buddha and the burning of incense.  They prayed for favorable weather next year, that the country be prosperous and that its people live in peace.

Chu Qiao slowly turned her head in the direction of the sound, a little lost in thought.

“This place is so bleak, and you are a girl alone in such a place.  Are you not afraid?”

Chu Qiao turned to look at the old man.  Those who could so easily come into this place without alerting Yue Thirteen and the others were uncommon.  In her heart she tried to filter out those who were able to come to this place at a time like this, but she was unable to come up with anyone in particular.  Unavoidably, it was all the more doubtful.  But she did not let her expression show it, and only lightly smiled in reply, “If your heart is benevolent, there is nothing to fear.  Compared to the hearts of people, the so-called ghosts and ghouls are more kind-hearted by leaps and bounds.”

“A benevolent heart?” The old man’s intonation slowly rose, and he quietly smiled, “In this world, how many can really live up to those words?”

“As long as I feel that I can live up to them, then it is enough.”   Chu Qiao stood up in place, her long, snow white robes beautiful and elegant in the light, her face smooth and clean, with a halo of white, she quietly said, “There are those who spend a lifetime as an honest official, faithful to gods and king, without taking an ounce from the people, and with clean hands, they are magnanimous for a lifetime.  There are those who live their entire lives attempting nothing and accomplishing nothing, scraping a meager living to support their families, yet they have never broken the law, and in their hearts they have no remorse, and no debts.  They too are worthy of those two words.  Whether peace resides in the heart (TN: 心之所安 a heart at peace with everything) is decided by oneself, and is not based on achievement.”  (TN:  Yes, Chu Qiao seems to take up the mantle of a Buddhist  philosopher here, but also, I think she is trying to explain to Yan Xun to let it go….  I remember the scene with her in front of the two-faced Yan Goddess on the mountain.  One with the face of war stood in her choice to remain with him, and the other face of the mother at peace stood in the direction of Zhuge Yue.  I see the symbolism now and how her personality has flipped)

The old man raised his brows slightly.  A gust of wind wound the ash along the floor and it fluttered down onto the hem of his cloak.  He sank deep in thought for a short while, and then slowly smiled, saying, “What you say is reasonable.”  

“It is such a big snow storm outside.  Elder, you’ve come here in the middle of the night, perhaps something disturbs your heart?”

“I am old, it is inevitably easy to ponder on things past in this fleeting life.”

A wild wind swelled and in an instant it blew open the chamber doors, and all the candles in the room were suddenly extinguished.  The servant was startled.  Even though he was already advanced in age, his hands were quite nimble, and in no time he closed the door and lit an oil lamp.

The old man raised his line of sight, staring at the row of dark coffins in the deep blackness.  His smile was restrained, and waved his hand, “This is fine.”

The chamber was very quiet, and one could only hear the sound of the wind howling above the roof.  Eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness all around.  Through the glistening snow outside, one could already see the indistinct figures of people outside. 

The elder removed his cloak and said, “He probably just doesn’t want to see me.”  (TN: I think he is making a reference here to someone resting in one of the coffins)

“I’ve brought wine, come have a cup with me.”

Without waiting for Chu Qiao to respond, the old servant came forward and spread a sturdy silk cloth on the floor, placing two wine cups on it with a shining, white, translucent jade pot that slightly glowed. In the darkness.  The cups were filled and the wine’s fragrance permeated.  The old servant offered a cup of wine to Chu Qiao.  Chu Qiao sniffed it and said, “This is qing nu jiao, wine from Qing Qiu.”  (TN: 青女娇 qing nu jiao literally means lovely green/young and innocent girl.)

 The old man smiled and praised, “Your nose is quite sharp.”

Chu Qiao smiled, “My tolerance for spirits isn’t anything to brag about, but the ability to smell wine is my expertise.”

As soon as she said it, she took a silver needle from her hair and plunged it into the cup.  (TN: silver detects most poisons by turning color)  A short while after extracting it, sniffed once in between breaths, and only then did she relax and drank down the wine, praising it.  “Indeed it is good wine.”

The old man saw how she had so overtly tested the wine for poison in front of his face, yet he was not affronted.  Instead, he said with great interest, “Lend your needle to me.”

Chu Qiao was slightly stunned, and asked, “Do you not feel at ease drinking the wine that you yourself had brought?”

“There is no harm in being a little careful.”

The old man did as Chu Qiao had done, and swept the silver hair pin into the cup.  From the folds of robe he retrieved a match book and after lighting it he looked into the cup for a long while, and only after that did he raise his head to drink. 

Chu Qiao laughed, “When you do it like that, you are actually more insecure.”

The old man was slightly astonished, and asked, “Why?”

“Not all poisons corrode silver.  Moreover, in the process of handing you my hairpin, there are many other ways of administering poison.  Even if poison is not used, being so close to me, aren’t you afraid that I could be an assassin?”

The old man looked at her without a trace of being alarmed, and asked her in earnest, “So are you?”

“If I said I wasn’t, would you believe me?”

The old man frowned, as if he was really considering it, and after a while he finally said, “I would not really believe it.”

Chu Qiao laughed aloud, “That’s right.  The farmer wishes to eat chicken tonight, so he will not kill the pig, but that doesn’t mean he will not kill the pig tomorrow.”

“Are you comparing me to a pig?”

“No, no,” Chu Qiao shook her head.  “A man like you is 1/3 wolf, 1/3 snake; for the other part, it would do well not to inquire.”

The old man smiled and asked the old servant by the door, “See the mouth on this girl, it is comparable to the hundred poison darts of the You Shi Tribe.”

The old man seemed to be happy, and sat with Chu Qiao in a relaxed manner while drinking wine.  Outside, the snow storm was getting stronger and stronger.  Chu Qiao pulled a chair over, wiped it clean and sat down, and drank cup after cup of wine with him.  (TN:  This scene is reminiscent of a few chapters back. Chu Qiao now gets to drink with an old friend/frienemy, just as Zhuge Yue did with his.  Zhuge Yue is probably having a fit right now since she’s missing…. ^_^;)  It was a veil of darkness all around, but for the few shafts of light coming from the roof.

The wine had a tempting aroma; just in the first taste, one was lured into taking a second sip.  Thought it was not poisoned, drinking too much would lead to being intoxicated.  Without knowing how much time had passed, Chu Qiao’s head gradually became dizzy, she leaned into the chair, her arm on the armrest supported her head, and slowly she closed her eyes.  She conversed with the old man quite a bit, or not at all, and it seemed they had discussed much, but gradually she forgot it.  Her heart was tranquil, as if wide swaths of snow white waves swept across it, layers upon layers, gently brushing over her white fingers and cheeks.

It was like she had returned to the time of her childhood, methodically teaching her the Tai Zu Zhang form of martial arts, teaching her hand-to-hand field combat, and teaching her how to recognize hidden traps.  He taught her how to use a variety of weapons and daggers, and took the chairman’s quotes and had her recite them over and over.  (TN: she was raised in fictional Communist China, and in reality, Chairman Mao was known to be a literate scholar and wrote many essays and philosophies on Communism and men.  His real-life  opponent was General Chiang Kai Shek who lost the war and retreated to Taiwan.  But the general was also a renown philosopher and wrote treatises on government and men.  So, depending on how you were raised, as a pro-Communist native or a banished ex-patriot, you would either know quotes from Chairman Mao, or from General Chiang.  My parents memorized the general’s quotes as children.   I am not certain if the author here is serious when she describes Chu Qiao’s upbringing, or if she’s being tongue-in-cheek about how rigid it was and whether it’s actually a veiled jab at Communism.  After all, it was because of her rigidity, she followed Yan Xun for so many years and didn’t know how to express what she wanted with Zhuge Yue.)  Early every morning, she would stand under the party flag and swear her allegiance.  She was only a few years old at the time, but she had felt quite dignified and solemn as she stood behind her old and tough grandfather as he said loudly over and over again, “Loyalty to the Chairman, loyalty to the Party, loyalty to the people, and sacrifice your life for your people and your country if need be….”

Then the image changed, and in came the picture of a deep, freezing palace.  An enormous moon shone on the tops of their heads, and the boy stood stubbornly before her, so angry that he bit his lip as he looked at her new hairpin, spitefully silent.  She had been so scared that she hurriedly removed the hairpin, and nervously cried out to him that it was the thirteenth prince who had given it to her, and she didn’t like it one bit.  After a long while, she watched as he archly revealed an ugly hairpin in his fist, as if he had polished the copper strip himself.  It was bare; without any decoration.  His fingers were a bit raw, and a few were already bleeding and wrapped in rags.

Then, a pair of fox-like eyes emerged from the waves, and a man dressed in red brocade robes sat in a water pavilion and exaggerated a sigh.  A group of girls dressed in multi-colored dress surrounded him.  His eyes were mesmerized, as if he had drank two jugs of Red Girl wine.  (TN: if you’ve ever watched kung fu costume dramas, it seems everyone drank this wine (nǚ’ér hóng) in the ancient days ^_^;)  He noticed her from afar and suddenly stood up, waving wildly at her as he said, “Qiao Qiao!  Qiao Qiao!  Hurry up and come here—”

And then, the picture changed, and the sky filled with gleaming sunlight reflected on waves.  Ring after ring of smoke and mist hung above the old road.  Light and shadow came down in torrents, fluttering and voluminous, as if drifting through the long length of a lifetime, turning into that haughty and aloof, but handsome, man.  Again, it was the lantern festival of three years ago.  He was in a fit of pique with himself because she did not want to go with him to Qing Hai.  Breathing heavily with rage he walked in front, ignoring her completely, but not before yelling at her and calling her a blind idiot.  (TN: When did this happen…? ^_^; I don’t remember translating this scene)  Angry, she picked up a clump of dirt clod,  throwing it from behind and it happened to just hit him on the head.  He was so angry his face went livid as he turned around and glared at her ferociously.  (TN: sorry, I LOL’d here and had to stop typing for a bit)

Then, on a swaying boat, the two of them embraced amid the countless, thin and delicate strands of rain.  He murmured by her ear, “I’m so happy, I’ve never been so happy….”

Just then, a childish voice echoed in her ear, “In the end, he died, and he also died, and she was left alone and heartbroken, so she left, and in the end she died, leaving only him to remain.”  (TN: O_o wtf?)

So it was, so it was.  She was dreaming.  Li Ce had already died, killed by the hand of his own mother, dying in her arms.  She had seen a large expanse of red blood blossoming from his chest and touched his ice cold body and closed eyes.  (TN: literal translation of 紧闭的眼帘, the curtains of his eyes securely shut)  He leaned on her shoulder and died, never again to laugh and call out her name, never again to reach out and touch her cheek, never to sneak into her bedroom at night again and sift through the letters Zhuge Yue had written to her.  He was never again to look at her gently whenever she was going through a tough time, hold her close, and then say, “Don’t fret, don’t fear.  You still have me, you still have Zhuge Fourth.  Even if it’s that bastard Yan Xun, he wouldn’t really harm you.”  (TN:  …thinking back on the rain of arrows that nearly killed her….)

Between heaven and earth was the boundless and indistinct north wind, a large snowfall dyed red descended from heaven, and Zhuge Yue faced Yan Xun on a desert plain.  She saw thousands of people’s souls floating in the heavens, she heard the earth’s lamentation,  and she heard the wind’s mourning.  She saw the sky was cracked, with dense, deep red blood slowly seeping through the crevice and flowing onto the badly mangled ground.  She saw Zhuge Yue fall, his back split open.  It was the would that she had pierced in him so many years ago, but pierced with a deep, cold arrow through his body.  She saw in Yan Xun’s hand was the 3-foot blood bow, standing atop countless bloody corpses.  Thousands of arrows shot out, making a sheet of deep black that covered heaven and earth, and he stood at the pinnacle of the world.  Endless red liquid seeped beneath his feet and his body was pierced with arrows but he did not fall.  (TN: holy cow, this is some messed up, traumatic and violent dream)

Thousands upon thousands of troops and horses swept through, and all the visions were broken.  A wolf’s saber shred the map of the continent to pieces and she was again kneeling on the ice sheet of Qianzhang Lake, watching the world collapse in an instant, his voice whispering beside her ear over and over:

Keep on living, keep on living, keep on living—

Her tears poured forth in streams, across her pointed chin, dripping into the folds of her snow white cloak.

The old man stood in front of her, the smile that had just been on his face vanished, his expression became indifferent and lonely.  He turned his head towards the old servant and asked, “Is it her?”

The old hunched back servant, always in his humble appearance, said softly, “It is she.”

The old man slowly smiled, but there was no trace of mirth in his eyes, “Who’d have though we would meet again in a place like this?”

The old servant slightly raised himself, but said not a word.  The old man muttered to himself for a long time, and suddenly reached out his finger and swept it across Chu Qiao’s cheek, and touched an ice cold remnant of her tears.  He was instantly shocked and placed his finger in his mouth, his tongue slowly tasting the saltiness.

“Anfu, do people cry when they drink yellow millet wine?”

The chamber was dim.  The old slave did not see that the girl sitting in the chair was quietly crying.  He quickly lit a candle and leaned in front of Chu Qiao to look carefully.  For a moment, he was also shocked.

The teardrops fell in a row, rolling silently like a broken string of pearls.  Anfu’s voice was laced with astonishment, and after a long moment, he slowly said, “This slave has never heard it said that there were people who drank yellow millet and cried.  This woman presumably has much pain in her heart.”

After saying this, An Fu slightly frowned, as if he was puzzled.  

“With such an honorable status, what cause would there be for such pain?”

The old man heard this and slightly smiled, and said lightly, “The more you think you have caught happiness, the more you fear that you will lose it one day.  This is a child’s heart.  I’m afraid not even she can control that fear.”

“Your Highness, the hour is late.  We should return.”

The old man nodded, donned his cloak, and walked to the door but suddenly turned his head around, and focused on the coffins placed there.  “Shi Cheng, how many years more do you think DaXia can be blessed with its throne?”

The cold wind blew over.  His silhouette looked frail and he suddenly coughed a few times.  As he laughed lightly he opened the chamber doors, and like that, he left.

A single cup of lamp oil remained lit, emitting a pale light, swaying countlessly, but stayed unextinguished.  

The lady dressed in white leaned against the back of the chair, slightly rubbed her head, the tears flowing down in rows, quietly; tranquil like lake water.

Without knowing how much time had passed, there was someone beside her speaking.  She frowned slightly as the lantern shone like moonlight, glaring to her eyes.  Mei Xiang’s voice reached her ears, saying in a lively voice, “She’s awake, she’s awake, thank goodness.”

Chu Qiao frowned as she saw it was only Mei Xiang standing by her side.  Huan’er lifted a lantern and stood on the other side, and both of them looked nervously at her.

“Miss, what happened to you?”

Chu Qiao looked all around, any trace of the old man long gone.  Understandably she was a little out of sorts, she casually said, “Nothing.  I only carelessly fell asleep.”

Mei Xian instantly protested, “It’s so cold here, how could you possibly have fallen asleep here, Miss?”

“I think the mistress is too tired.  The snowstorm outside has already lessened.  Let’s hurry up and return to the manor.”

The group ascended the carriage; Rong’er continued to sleep soundly and Mo’er was also relaxed in Jing Jing’s arms, unable to keep his eyes open.

A blizzard had broken up and dispersed the lantern festival.  All along the road back, she saw tattered pieces of lantern everywhere, and the streets were empty and desolate.   She opened the carriage curtain to look out into the distance, only to see the chill had settled everywhere.  Not a single light was lit, and only the white lantern of the temple remained intact, unknown to anyone as to how it had survived the blizzard.  (TN: White lanterns are hung in funeral homes and temples of the dead.  FYI it is considered unlucky to light a plain, white lantern in your home.)

It was already late at night when they returned to the manor.  Yue Liu (TN: 6th Moon) stood guard at the front door, and as they came into view, quite a few of the guards gave out a collective sigh.    They stepped forward to say Zhuge Yue had returned early, and had gone out in search of her several times.

Chu Qiao hurried inside, into the main hall, removed her cloak for the servants, and walked gingerly into the bed chamber.  Returning from such a chilly place to her home, warm air rushed to greet her.  The incense burner let out a pleasant fragrance, curling vertically, spiraling upward.  The chamber was quiet, without a single sound.  She quietly walked over only to see that his face was slightly flushed, reclining like that, still dressed in his clothes, but sound asleep.  Only, his brow was held in a tight frown, as if something in his dream had made him quite angry.  (TN: maybe he is dreaming that Yan Xun actually touched her… ^_^;;)  

His breathing was heavy and there was the scent of strong alcohol in the air.  His capacity for alcohol had never really been that good.  This night he must have drank a lot of wine in order to sleep so soundly.

On the mahogany bedpost hung an exquisite and small lantern, with red eyes, long ears; it was a remarkably true to life rabbit.  (TN: awwww….)

She took off her shoes and lay beside him like that.  Inhaling the scent of his body, and listening to his low breathing, her frozen heart gradually became warm again.

She reached out a hand and wrapped her arm around his waist, driving away that despairing dream.

No, absolutely not.

They would be together, live a good life, they will have a child, and together they will leave this place, and start a new life somewhere else.

It must be like this.  It must.  (TN: jeez, when you say it ominously like that…. I will hurl this MacBook across the room if it turns out badly.)

***

—Summary—  

After the spring banquet, DaXia’s demise became more apparent.  The refugees of the west were now everywhere.  People were selling their children and wives despite the disaster relief.  But DaXia’s wars were already bleeding the coffers dry.  

The days in Yan Bei were just as dismal.  Even though their heist had saved the people through the winter, their circumstances were difficult, preventing any large-scale war at the border in the interim.

Both countries seemed at a stand still.

In March, the emperor gave Zhao Che the lands of the Northern Hu.  Though everyone knew Zhao Che was the warden of the north, that title was never officially sealed.  Also in March, Zhuge Yue’s house arrest finally ended and the Minister of War rejoined the court.

A report from Yan Bei gave Chu Qiao great concern.  There was word that Yan Bei wanted to trade with DaXia.  DaXia also needed horses and iron ore, but they had other trading partners, and laughed off the request.  Seeing that their enemy’s situation was even more dire than their own, the court of DaXia became more arrogant, and there were scattered calls to wipe out Yan Bei once and for all.  There were even requests from the distant relations of the royal family sent to Zhuge Yue to take action.

Zhuge Yue just sat back and watched the rogues of all kinds running wild with their suggestions, and could not help but sneer at them.  Behind their backs he ridiculed them and noted that Yan Xun’s tactics were not very clever, but it seemed to do the trick.  With just a few words, he sent the emperor’s entire government into a frenzy.

When he said this, Chu Qiao became terrified.  Zhuge Yue was someone who already thought many layers above and beyond ordinary people, and he knew that Yan Xun wanted to lure DaXia in for a fight.  Having lived with him for many years, she knew it was not in Yan Xun’s nature to show weakness to the enemy but she wondered if it was really worth it to Yan Xun to sacrifice his country’s well being to do this.

—End Summary—

Winter gave way to Spring, and another year brought forth Spring flowers to blossom, but the sinister, slanting cold wind slowly resisted; pushing the window open, the unchanging ice was still visible.

End notes: I’m a bit disappointed we didn’t get to see Zhuge Yue’s reaction to her delayed return, but I guess that wasn’t the point of this chapter.  At one point I thought when she insulted the old man, she knew who he was, but then, she wouldn’t have been so relaxed to have gotten comfortably drunk in front of Yan Xun.  Considering the author is trying to set up some final confrontation between Yan Xun and Zhuge Yue, Chu Qiao should be wary but she doesn’t seem to have her game face on, does she?  Let’s hope they get their HEA (fingers crossed)!!! —Kero

Princess Agents - 特工皇妃楚喬傳, Chapter 185, English novel translation

Princess Agents - 特工皇妃楚喬傳 

Translator’s notes: After going through my Game of Thrones withdrawal, I finally feel ready to tackle my other projects, including reading a bunch of romance novels on my new Kindle, cleaning my house, finishing my Regency period pelisse and finishing this translation.   (I have a lot of hobbies.)  

I think this may be the first and last novel I translate since it really is quite a task!  After a reader suggested Legend of Fu Yao to me, I thought about it because I love Fu Yao, but yeah, I think I’ll pass.  Still, I want to finish what I started here.  

So I’ve put on my iTunes Chinese soundtrack (not only drama soundtracks like 楚喬傳 but also pop music that I think sets the mood for stars/moon 星/月 inspiration) and I’m diving right in.   

I’m still crossing fingers for a 2nd sequel series of 楚喬傳 …. But until then, I’ve also started listening to a podcast that is super interesting and puts a lot of the Chinese cultural references and holidays of Chu Qiao Chuan into perspective.  Why is the author fascinated by the New Year?  Why is there a Lantern Festival?  What time period did Chu Qiao transport into?  Was this a parallel to the Chinese bronze age (B.C.E.)?

The podcast is literally called The History of China and it’s really well done.   Being raised outside of Asia (in the West), this is not something I would have studied at any time in my life since it had nothing to do with my major in university.  From the mythical beginnings to the first emperors, to the Summer and Autumn periods of the Zhou Dynasty (where I think the time period from 楚喬傳 is modeled after) it’s a really well done account of all the kings, all their struggles, and all their legends.  So far I’m in the Zhou Dynasty (3rd? dynasty with a written record) where a king (like the emperor of DaXia) tricked and executed a loyal but powerful vassal duke (like Yan Xun’s father) because he was afraid of his power.  And then later, another powerful vassal state (like Qing Hai) rose from the ashes from nothing to become the power that deposes that dynasty.   I think my mind is really twisted by Korean and Chinese TV dramas because I keep thinking every dynasty I hear about could be its own drama series ^__^;  

Every dynasty seems to have its share of greedy uncles and regents, crazy kings and concubines and exiled princes.  And, if you thought only crazy fictional ladies like Chu Qiao and Mulan put on armor and fought armies, around the time of the Egyptian pharaoh King Tut, there was once a female queen/general called Fu Hao who won pretty much all the battles she fought for her husband the emperor (reminds me of that quirky Chinese drama Oh, My General).  Why doesn’t she have a drama yet?

So how many times have you all watched the 1st series of Chu Qiao Chuan by now?  If we’ve watched more than twice, is that something we can admit out loud?  Hang in there, everyone.  LOL

-Kero

Chapter 185: The Yan Family Memorial 

When the ShangYuan festival (TN: Lantern Festival on the fifteenth of the first month of the lunar calendar) arrived, the Royal Palace held a large banquet.  Perhaps to divert attention from the prior year’s turmoil, this night’s dinner party was especially sumptuous.  Even Zhuge Yue, who was under house arrest to ponder his errors in seclusion, had been invited.  Had it been during peacetime, he could have found some excuse and claimed to be ill, but had he done this, it would have been difficult for him to avoid the onslaught of the boundless well wishers.  (TN: ^_^; Zhuge Yue is so anti-social)  At dusk, Zhuge Yue donned his court attire and entered the palace in a very low key fashion on horseback  (TN:  the source material uses the words 轻车简骑, translated literally as light ride, single mount, but it also sounds a lot like the idiom, 轻车简从, which refers to a very distinguished person traveling with few attendants, incognito)

Chu Qiao stayed in her room.  Lately she always felt tired after a short period of time and her appetite was poor.  (TN: Omo…O_O is she pregnant??)  Eating, then sleeping, it seemed a rather indulgent, charmed existence.

A sudden creak at the door was followed by the door being pushed open and Mo’er  entering with halting steps.  He walked over to Chu Qiao’s side looking slightly nervous, his nose red from the cold.

“Mo’er, what’s the matter?”

Mo’er hesitated a bit, then turned his head to look towards the door, and after a while longer, he asked in a small voice, “Mother, are we not going out tonight?”

If she counted correctly, Chu Qiao was only about ten years older than this child.  In the beginning, hearing him call her mother all day was a bit uncomfortable.  But then, she gradually got used to it, and now she thought nothing of it.

She sat up straight and furrowed her brow, “Go out?  Go where?”

“Today is the ShanYuan holiday.  There are temple festivals and lantern viewings going on outside.”

Mo’er’s eyes lit up with excitement, and when Chu Qiao turned towards the door, she noticed the sounds of a few more loiterers outside.  

These days, since Zhuge Yue was confined, those in his manor also rarely ventured outside.  She pinched Mo’er’s cheek and smiled, “Very well.  Let’s go.”

The continent was a vast land.  By modern accounts, it was roughly 40 million square kilometers, which was near five times the size of modern China.  The land had been imparted and inherited for many years now, even through the chaos of war and the frequent unrest.  But the people had always flourished, and the city of Zhen Huang was the capital of the nation, so the population was also very dense.

Chu Qiao and her group walked along the street, only to observe brilliant lanterns in all directions, beautiful lanterns of every eye-catching color vying for their attention.  The commoners of the capital, regardless of gender, age, wealth or nobility all came out to celebrate the occasion.  A hundred stage plays were going at the same time, all the musicians were creating a myriad of sound, and everywhere the scene was bustling and lively.

This year’s ShangYuan Festival was a little more festive than the last, with the cacophony of human voices, and the deafening sound of gongs and drums.

The children were laughing heartily, but as soon as an hour passed, it started snowing.   The north wind came whistling forth, the wind stirred the level ground turning it into white tendrils of flurries and the entire scene of colorful lanterns was blown apart.  JingJing and the others cursed loudly as they got into the carriage, and the guards waved their whips to hurry back to the manor.  But the wind became stronger and stronger, and the carriage horses were unwilling to move forward further.  When they reached a more secluded area, one horse suddenly startled, and it broke away from its harness.

Yue Thirteenth ran up to tell them the storm was getting too big, and it was better for them to find a place to shelter through it.

Chu Qiao nodded in agreement, and just happened to see the image of a shadowy building ahead, and ran up to knock on the door before noticing that it was actually a temple for the goddess of Yanbei.  (TN: irony…)

Even though Yan Shicheng was born into the royal family, because he was marked a traitor to the empire, he could not be entombed in the ancestral temple.  The name of this mansion was the Temple of Peace, but it was actually a memorial.  It was not only the resting place for Yan Shicheng and his children, but it was also the resting place for a few commoners nearby.  In the beginning, DaXia had sent some guards to strictly keep a lookout, but since YanXun had returned to Yanbei, there had been no attempts by the Datong Association to steal the bodies.  Gradually, the place became more desolate, and the empire was no longer willing to justify the expense of sending soldiers to guard a pile of white bones.

Chu Qiao and the other entered the sloping antechamber. (TN: the words 偏屋 can literally mean “partial house” but the word 偏 also means slanted, and in this case, I think the words refer to the architecture.  I could be wrong, but it sounds better in English this way.)  The guards found some candlesticks and torches and the interior gradually became brighter.  It revealed a clutter of memorial tablets arranged inside the gloomy hall.  There are also over twenty coffins, shrouded under a display of pure white candles.  At a glance it was both horrible and ghastly.

Jing Jing’s face went pale, as if she was a bit scared, and she stayed close behind Duoji, tugging on his sleeve.  Her usual quick wit was absent.

MeiXiang said to her with a laugh, “Never thought there was actually something that would scare our Miss JingJing.  At one point I even thought you were a little demon incarnate, afraid of no one in this world.”

Upon hearing her playful banter, the atmosphere momentarily became lighter.

Rong’er was now one years old, constantly babbling to practice speaking, wobbling as he walked around out of doors rather like a duckling.  He was dressed all in red, rolled up in a red padded jacked.  He used his chubby little hand to stifle a yawn, and burrowed into Chu Qiao’s arms, adjusting to a more comfortable position to take a nap.

Chu Qiao stood up and handed Rong’er to Mei Xiang, saying softly, “I’m going out.”

“Miss, where are you going in a big storm like this?”

Chu Qiao mentioned the boxes of foodstuffs Mei Xiang had packed, and lit a lantern.  “I’ll just go next door and take a look.  You needn’t follow.”

As soon as she said this, she exited through the chamber doorway.

The wind outside was astonishingly strong.  In the fifteen years she’s lived on this continent, she had never witnessed such gales.  The lantern in her hand quickly extinguished.  Chu Qiao’s large, fur cloak flew upward and cold snow pelted her face in multiple pricks, as if being hit by pebbles.  Chu Qiao tightly held onto the collar of her cloak and with great difficulty she walked forward, walking for a while before stopping before a dilapidated room.  She then reached out her hand and slowly pushed open the groaning doors.

In that moment the heavy gale suddenly rushed in, it stirred up the layers of dust all over the floor.  Chu Qiao coughed a few times then quickly close the doors, pulling a chair to hold the doors in place.

The deathly quiet in this room was the same, and it seemed colder than the outside.  In several places the roof had caved in, and the wind stirred in the rafters.  All around the pitch darkness was deep enough so one couldn’t see their own fingers in front of their face, but she was well acquainted with the floor plan here.  She took out her fire starter and after several tries, managed to light all the candles around her.  Faint candlelight quietly ignited, slowly turning the room bright.  Four, deep black colored coffins were placed within without spiritual tablets, without banners or tapers, or even a single marking.  They had just been nonchalantly left there, with straw and litter all around, and a few pieces of frozen buns scattered everywhere.  Normally, this place was a temporary shelter for wandering beggars.

Chu Qiao placed the food box to one side, rolled up her sleeves and began to tidy up.  Her movements were fast and although she didn’t have any cleaning tools handy, the garbage on the floor was cleared away.  She tied the straw together to make a makeshift broom and swept the cobwebs aside and the space within looked much tidier.  Then, one by one, she took out the dishes inside the box, placed them on the floor, and knelt down, bowing deeply a few times in homage.

Indeed, these four coffins were the remains of YanXun’s father, his two brothers and his sister.  In those years before, on the anniversary of the King of Yan’s death, she and YanXun would secretly come to worship.  In those days, there were still officials and soldiers guarding here, and in coming here they would have to expend a lot of effort.  But nowadays, this place had already become so desolate.

Since returning to the capital, she never even thought about returning to pay homage here.  Moreover, she never thought she would wander here by mistake today.  Perhaps this too, was a kind of fate.

There were no incense sticks, so they were replaced by incense.  There was no paper money, so there was a silk cloth as a substitute.  There was no good wine, only one pot of goat milk and two cups of green tea.

Your Highness, I’ve come again to see you.

She got up with a few splotches of dust slightly soiling her knees.  Snowflakes fell down from where there was no roof, covering the coffin lids bit by bit.  She quietly stared at those coffins, trying hard to recall those bloody, severed heads from long ago, and it left a vast, bleak feeling in her heart.

Earlier, before LongXi experienced the snow disaster of a generation, Yan Bei had already sunk into its own catastrophe.  The people’s homeland was destroyed, and the snows that hit the Blue City was particularly bad and would affect its people for generations to come.  Thousands of livestock froze to death in the lands around ShangShen, the people were not eating, and Yan Bei was in danger.

However, while the hundred DaXia ministers were clapping in glee, Yan Bei secretly mobilized 100,000 guards from the Dragon Pass who trekked over the Lan He Plateau and the over 6,000 meters above sea level rise of Dusk Wolf Peak, to enter the territory of Da Tang.  Bypassing TangJia Pass, they suddenly attacked the Da Tang checkpoint, robbing over 200,000 sacks of food, then returning to Yan Bei with lightning speed.  The entire operation took less than four days.  When Da Tang’s border war report reached Tang Jing City, the guards from Dragon Pass had already returned to their post, and even crossed swords twice with DaXia troops who had wanted to take advantage of Yan Bei’s disaster to attack.

When word got out, it was like a drop of water dropping into a vat of sizzling oil, which set off a fierce reaction.

DaXia and Bian Tang were furious, but had no means of taking on Yan Xun.  DaXia’s imperial censor and his lot wrote passionate declarations, saying Yan Bei was born of thieves, their base nature was to burn, kill and loot, doomed to disobey the righteous path.  The old scholars of Bian Tang had even more fire in their eyes, raising a hue and cry all over the world, calling out Yan Xun’s ancestry and forefathers in a flood of invectives.

Moreover, they wrote books to lash out at the injustice, in agitation barely letting their anger pass.

But this was the only thing they could do.  The Dragon pass was an impenetrable fortress, Yan Bei’s army was cruel and ruthless.  In the current situation, as long as they did not come out and fight in open war, they could only burn the incense high.  (TN: burning incense can be akin to waiting, or letting time pass; or praying to the gods for a breakthrough) Who would dare go up to the door and provoke them?

When Chu Qiao heard the news, she couldn’t help but smile in contempt.  The soft will always fear the hard, the hard fear dying, and that was the way of it.

Fittingly, Zhuge Yue continued to disapprove, facing down the court and commons and continuing to ignore their cries to go to war.  Everyone knew that DaXia was now unable to even fend for itself, and the situation with several of its princes vying for power was already reaching its apex.  In a time like this, who had the time to go out in open war?  It was only griping.  If he had really wanted to amass the army towards Yang Ming, what those old bastards feared would really come to pass: blood three feet deep, a demonstration of sincerity by death.  (TN: traditionally, in olden days, people would commit suicide, or posture themselves to suggest they would do it, to demonstrate their sincerity and conviction in their belief.  That is what the phrase 以死明志 means.  In this case, Zhuge Yue knows it would be a pure bloodbath)

When he heard the news, he was slightly surprised, saying that he did not think Yan Xun would do such a thing.

In fact, aside from him, it was doubtless the entire continent would not have thought it either.

After all, once upon a time, he had used all of Yan Bei in a bet, positioning its soldiers and civilians as bait, leading DaXia’s army into the pass, and dispersing his own army.  Not long after that, he eradicated the dissidents to his rule and completely destroyed the Da Tong Association who had once helped him onto the world stage, taking the head of even his own teacher.

In the face of such a man, it was doubtless that no one would have thought he would do something like this for Yan Bei’s people, and at such a risk.

Even Chu Qiao couldn’t figure out what the catch was.

However, it was good that the commander of the Tanghu Pass was the son of the Bian Tang empire’s Prince Jing’an.  Even though he had aligned himself with the crown only after Prince Jing’an met his end, he held military power and oversaw critical holdings of the empire.  In the end, it was still difficult to make them completely at ease.  Every time Yan Xun went after him, it was not DaXia’s loss. 

And it was Da Tang’s grain that was lost.

Chu Qiao’s brows slowly lifted, in her mind she once again recalled living in those years on Shang Shen Plateau, and returned to the snowy mountain…. and the simple herdsmen and common folk there….

Yan Xun’s capabilities were becoming more and more impressive.  Hiding for a thousand li (TN: a li is a little over a mile), in rapid action, tens of thousands of troops were mobilized without stirring the slightest breeze, without anyone noticing, in a perfect strike.  His methods were accurate, his vision sharp, his daring strong, his men were first class in the world’s ranking.  As long as he is there, DaXia can’t imagine breaking through the Dragon Pass.  Even if Zhao Che himself attacked, there wasn’t even the slightest opportunity.  Though perhaps in tactics, military strength, intelligence, weaponry, logistics, supplies and other aspects he was slightly better.  But no matter how ruthless or how tenacious, there was no way to surpass Yan Xun’s ability.

The terrible thing about Yan Xun on the battlefield was his ability to make perfect use of everything around him to aid in his victory in warfare.  His ability to fathom the human heart had already reached great heights.

In this world, the only one comparable to him was perhaps Zhuge Yue.

Yan Xun’s strength was in his hate, while Zhuge Yue’s strength was in his cunning.

Like this, if the two of them were able to meet on the battlefield free of other worries, they might in fact have a legendary battle worthy of being recorded in the annals of war.

She shook her head slowly.  Although she had given up that lifestyle, when she was idle, her mind would still unintentionally drift towards these things.  She would take news that she had heard, take it apart and piece it together over and over, creating a rough model of the situation, and then deducing, calculating and rearranging.  Like a chess player who loves to play chess but doesn’t play anymore, she imagined all sorts of game play in her mind.

In actuality, though she and Yan Xun ultimately ended up being at odds with one another, she did not wish to see him fall.

Therefore, after knowing that he had successfully attacked Tanghu Pass, she was still a bit delighted, completely disregarding her status as Bian Tang’s XiuLi royal.  

In between the two of them, though they could not remain side by side, they also didn’t have to be at odds trying to kill each other to survive. (TN: um, girl, he tried to turn you into Swiss cheese....)

The wind suddenly became stronger, and the door groaned aloud, pushing the chair aside a bit.  She thought it was the wind and turned back to close it, but who knew that at the moment she reached the doorway, the door would suddenly be pushed open.  A man in a black cloak stood amid the flurry of snow fall, behind him, only a single escort dressed in dark clothing.

She couldn’t see his face, and momentarily, could only see a pair of eyes, black like an abyss, aiming unflinchingly at her person.  (TN: the words used here by the author remind us that Yan Xun is an excellent shot)

Endnotes:  Wow, that’s interesting! Is that really Yan Xun??  She can tie up this loose end, finally.  So many pop songs going through my head right now in songfic form.  ^_^  What soundtrack would you play for this moment?  I imagine their soundtrack would include 简单 (Simple) by Claire Kuo, 崇拜 (Worship) by Fish Leong, 很久很久以後 (A long time from now) by Christine Fan.  Maybe Irreplaceable by Beyoncé?  ^___^;

I wonder if Zhuge Yue will be upset he wasn’t there?  I doubt he would be jealous, since he knows she loves him and not Yan Xun.

I really like how the author compares and contrasts Zhuge Yue and Yan Xun in this chapter.  They had always been polar opposites in youth, and still are in adulthood.  Except they both switched places.  The young Yan Xun who was carefree died in tragedy, and in struggle he was reborn a ruthless, vengeful man of hatred.  The young and cruel Zhuge Yue was redeemed by love, and in struggle was reborn and saw a different path to live, using his cunning to achieve what was right.  They are both two sides of the same coin.  And whereas Yan Xun never really understood Chu Qiao though he knew her value, he set her aside when she became inconvenient.  Zhuge Yue always knew her value, learned how to understand her, and cherishes her as the love of his life regardless of how inconvenient.

I think that’s what makes Zhuge Yue one of my favorite fictional romantic heroes, right up there with Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice and Mr. Thornton from North and South.   —KERO

Princess Agents - 特工皇妃楚喬傳, chapter 184 english novel translation

Princess Agents - 特工皇妃楚喬傳 

Translator’s notes:  I really missed Chu Qiao and Zhuge Yue so I came back to the novel to do more translation.  

This chapter is mostly politics and the story of the imminent downfall of DaXia.  Chu Qiao, who used to be at the forefront of the story, now takes her position as an observer of things happening with and around Zhuge Yue.

I have to say, these characters stimulate my imagination and I really want to see them to the end to give myself some closure.   I really want these two to find their happy ending.

Chapter 184: With You I Am Fearless

In the blink of an eye, it was already the end of the year. Even though this year wouldn’t be counted as a very favorable year, but on the surface, the capital city still maintained a splendid and peaceful atmosphere.  Still half a month from the spring banquet, the capital’s governor called off the city curfew, and by the authority of the council of elders, he reduced the merchant tax for the period of the new year to promote merchant trade, to help the emperor’s economy prosper, published in the emperor’s name on the imperial edict.  The outer province officials entered the city to pay homage together giving praise and honor towards officials with outstanding merits during the year.

Just like that, within three days, the capital city regained its past elegance.  Under the government’s deliberate conniving, this new year was particularly extravagant as the wealthy families from countryside entered the city proper.  Inside the capital were ten miles of fanfare with colored satin draped along the trees, and the sound of song and dance rising and falling.  No matter how disorderly it was on the outside, how imminent the border war, the people of the imperial city were still immersed in a sublime dream of the Heavenly Court.  (TN: As a side note, the emperor is known as a ruler by divine right, a son of heaven, so in Chinese tradition, his court is an extension of court in heaven.)

A winter wind, icy and violent, blew past the city, carrying a befuddled  and warm, southeasterly breeze towards the distant north.

However the war with Yanbei at the northwestern border had indeed become more tense.  Zhuge Yue slept later and later, and often he practically stayed up all night.  The dripping wax of the candles in the study dripped down drop by drop, creating layer upon layer of liquid red ripples upon the candle holder that reflected his increasingly unpleasant facial expression.  His tall and straight back was rather like the shaft of a sturdy javelin. 

Three days ago, Chu Qiao finally saw Zhao Che again.

It had still been snowing that day, preceded by non-stop snowfall for four days, creating an accumulation at least two feet thick.  Walking through it nearly buried their legs up to the thigh.  These past few years Chu Qiao’s body had remained weak, unable to endure the cold.  She lazily refused to go out and mostly stayed in her chambers the entire day, dozing off.

That evening, the sound of Zhuge Yue’s laughter carried over from far away.  She was reclining on a soft divan and gently frowned, but happened to open her eyes.  She felt a chilled breeze on her face and lightly shivered.  Pulling off the coverlet draped over her, she slowly stood up.  Soon after, she saw a smiling Zhuge Yue pull aside the hanging curtain and say, “Xing’er, look who has come.”

As soon as he said it, following behind him someone entered the bed chamber.

Zhao Che entered with the light at his back, dressed in crow black, long robes with no embroidery or adornment, low keyed and quiet.  He still maintained that style, although he seemed a bit taller and thinner, but his face was unchanged.  His eyes no longer had that arrogant and obstinate look of years past.  They had changed to look deep and serene, like a cold and calm winter pond.  Even though he was smiling, in that smile there was a small portion of aloofness and caution.

Very placidly he gave her greetings, still the same as ever, slowly nodding, followed with a light smile, “We meet again at last.”

As swiftly as flowing water, food and dishes from the kitchen flowed onto their dinner table.  Zhao Che had brought QiangHu wine from the north, which was very pungent and spicy.  As soon as he opened it their noses caught the sudden fragrance of heavy alcohol.  He and Zhuge Yue drank and laughed together, recounting in detail the battles and situation of the past few days.  Occasionally they made impromptu comical gestures and remarks, mixing in a few jokes with mutual disdain.

Zhuge Yue had few friends, and in this world there was someone who could talk to him like this.  Perhaps with the exception of this man before him, there was no one else who could.  Chu Qiao quietly sat at one side, nursing her drink and listening to them tell of things past, with unflattering anecdotes from when they spent their youth in the military together.  After having grown up, they each thought highly of themselves up until the war suddenly started, the government and the people decayed, and the smoke of the alarms blew free and easy in all parts of the country.  The imperial power faded and they gradually came together.  

They each were of noble birth, their status aloof, their hearts with ambitions large enough to swallow the sun, their minds talented enough to run a country.  They were both stubborn and obstinate, young with lofty sentiments, but willfull.  Neither of them did this for the country, nor for worldly recognition.  They were both proud and aloof to the extreme, their characters persistent, and both were rebels in the eyes of their clans, set aside as different.  They were both born into splendor, both stripped of that same splendor, both having had to climb back up from the mud and dirt, step by step back into the center of power.  However, though their hearts were forged from iron, it was difficult to conceal their warmth and sincerity after all.  Male friendship, especially after such a long time, left things unspoken like this.

Chu Qiao quietly sat to one side, rarely seeing Zhuge Yue glowing with pride and happiness like this, and even more so, had never seen Zhao Che speaking so freely and uninhibited.  (TN: Chu Qiao probably feels like a third wheel to this bromance… -__-;)

In a daze, she seemingly saw two poplar trees who had withstood wind and rain, standing shoulder to shoulder, slowly growing into two towering, age-old trees.

Another shadowing image crossed her mind unconsciously, of those dark days of her youth, those unconstrained, dangerous days.  While Zhao Che and Zhuge Yue were standing shoulder to shoulder deep in this world’s sea of people, she had also once hacked her way through a road of brambles and thorns with someone.  Only after a while, they no longer could reach the same goal on their divergent paths.

That night, Zhuge Yue indeed became quite drunk.  His ability to drink had never really been very good,  but he had always imposed self-discipline.  Except that night, facing a reunion with an old friend, he had been a bit free and easy and quite forgot.

Chu Qiao was well aware that he was really very tired.  In recent days, there were large snow storms in the northwest, poor harvests in the southwest, and one third of the country was awash with starving refugees. The grain and clothing regulated to them were exploited by the local government officials and their families, causing long delays before even reaching the hands of the commoners who needed them.  Zhao Yang was the center of power in the imperial west, but he allowed the pubic greed of his subordinates and indulged their clans in order to win the support of the upper classes.  Within a half month, 200,000 westerners died, and over a million people fled south, east and even northwest.  Before the gates of Yang Ming Pass, Tang Hu Pass and the Shao Pass, there were large numbers of refugees who didn’t have enough to eat.  Hundreds of people died of starvation daily, but the emperor would rather spend his riches on repairing his palatial buildings.  With the coming spring banquet, he was unwilling to send troops to deliver food for a way for these people to live.

Zhuge Yue had written more than ten petitions, but with the exception of a few untitled government officials, no one in the government, literary, or martial circles cared to support him.  All his written memorials were ignored, his admonishing edicts were bundled up.  The government and the people were respectful and submissive on the surface but they indulged in creature comforts.  The elders of the council were like a group a decaying locusts, and they only had eyes for whatever their large hands could reach.  They only let the local officials sing their praises and turned a blind eye to actual disaster.  He told them that the local disasters were serious and more than 200,000 people had died in the western region.  They told him that the realm of DaXia was ascending, that the people lived auspicious and happy lives and he was therefore speaking nonsense.

He told them that at the points of YanMing, Tang Hu and the Shao Pass there were gathered hundreds of thousands of people fleeing disaster.  If they still did not relieve the congestion there would be a public uprising, and that would breed great disaster.  They responded that the three passes were strongly fortified, and outside the gates were miles of fertile land, a broad and level expanse.  There was law and order in the local townships, the people were honest, and there was not a single pickpocket or bandit to be found.

He told them DaXia’s moment of capsizing, to survive or perish, was approaching, that the elders deceived themselves and others; that the court and government were without direction; while the local officials embezzled insolently and if they were not punished, great chaos would ensue.  They indeed reneged and framed a case against him, claiming he was assuming importance by amassing troops, manufacturing the chaos of the court and commons, and monopolizing power into a dictatorship.

The disputes within the government were like a pot of boiling gruel, while the common folk were dying everywhere at every moment.  They pointed out the submission of the populace under the umbrella of merit and virtue, and in long epistles sang praises of the emperor’s kindness and love.  The government was peaceful and righteous, the blessings of DaXia’s throne was boundless and unbroken.  Then they turned and accused him of not having any evidence, and of slandering the government for no reason.

Evidence?

She had heard he was in his study yelling at a few prominent generals, so angry that his cheeks were steeled in fury, and his eyes were like lake water, rolling with waves.

They turned a blind eye to the dense and dark mass of refugees outside the three passes, to the countless dead corpses across the land in all cardinal directions.  Nowadays, they were deaf to the heartfelt cries of the sorrowful that shook the earth.  They had indeed deceived themselves and others holding onto land that was corroding  beneath their feet and praising it as the best.  And they ridiculed him for not having evidence?

(TN: the author uses the phrase, 米虫进献的万民伞, which refers to a paper umbrella, most likely bound with string and rice glue, that was traditionally given to a favored official by his people when he left his district as a token of gratitude.  A “May you be protected from rain and foul weather” sort of thing.  But here, the author refers to the umbrella as infested with bugs (rice weevils), most likely eating away the glue, as the people are dying and the officials continue to deceive themselves.  It is a poignant political commentary indicating that the prosperity of a kingdom is nothing if the people are suffering).

That night, before going to sleep, he had gone silent for a long while.  Then by her ear he gnashed his teeth and said if he could take a sword and cut away all the bugs in one swing he would.  

He said it in such a low and suppressed tone, it caused Chu Qiao to shiver as if a layer of frost was climbing up her back.  She reached out her arm to embrace his waist, lightly touching his upper arm only to feel his muscles pulled tight, his fists clenched, and his skin was as cold as solid ice in the forests on top of Mt. Long.

However, Chu Xiao knew that he could only say it.  Even though he was so inclined for a moment, even though his position was advantageous, even though his held military power, even though he was estranged from his House, there were still some things, still some people, and still some responsibilities he simply could not ignore.

Though the emperor was supposed to be a dead man a while ago, but these days he was getting better.  His mind was clear and occasionally, he would even attend court.

For this ruler who had held his seat for many years without being deposed, no one dared look down on him.  In these many years, he seemed to always have the same tendencies. Anytime, anywhere, exhibiting a passing interest in politics, but in the moment anyone dared to take a half step forward, he would unleash devastation upon them.  Fourteen years ago, the King of Yanbei was such an example.

However, people were starting to wonder again, since the emperor was old after all, and was not an immortal god.  Now Zhao Che and Zhao Yang were in a position to fight over who can better please the emperor, who can know the emperor’s mind more, and who had the most wins over the other.  Now, the emperor was happy over the state of things.  In this moment who would dare to replace the ambiance with scenes from the disaster in the southwest to ruin his mood?  Even Zhao Che had no choice but to suppress his critique of the situation in the west.

At that time Zhao Che was not in the capital city, and Zhuge Yue had been a single tree propped up as a center of resistance.  He had the backing of the Ministries of Agriculture and Commerce as well as the merchants and large households to supply him silver and grain to be transported to the three passes.  But it was, after, just a drop in the bucket.

Once, the soldiers at Shao Pass made a mistake in the food distribution, and because the grains were scarce to begin with, the rice porridge was too thin.  When the people confronted a soldier about it he was heavy handed, which led the refugees to counter with a small scale riot.  Soldiers and civilians fought, about 30 soldiers died while about 50 people were killed, and nearly 100 others were injured.

When Yue Qi came to the manor, Zhuge Yue had been in his study.  It so happened that Chu Qiao was also present.  She never asked about Zhuge Yue’s affairs, but they occasionally crossed paths, and Zhuge Yue never kept her in the dark.  (TN: unlike Yan Xun…) It was because of this that she had heard the slander the officials were saying of him on this matter, and heard of the blasphemy and the complaints of the people outside Shao Pass.  With darkened expression Yue Qi repeated what they said word for word, that they had scorned him for embezzling their relief supplies, cursed his black heart as a blood sucking dog official, saying he intentionally wanted the people to suffer, and cursing his cruel and unscrupulous line to die without heirs.  (TN: harsh…)

He listened all along, his face without a single change, but what he was unwilling to say to Yue Qi his eyes could not hide.

After Yue Qi had left, she didn’t dare go to him.  The cold afternoon sun that day lightly sprinkled across his face that was getting more gaunt.  He sat on his chair quietly drinking his tea as if nothing had happened.  But Chu Xiao noticed that the base of his teacup was gradually leaking water, and even though the white jade tea cup was still in his hand, a crack had suddenly appeared along its side.

Yes, they were dying.  They were hungry.  Natural disasters and man-made disasters had come one after another, and the people had no way to live.  They government was still corrupt and siphoning money.  They should be cursed.  But the people did not know the court had already given up on the matter.   No one would heed the exploitation by the local officials.  The reports were forcibly suppressed.  The official response was that all matters would be delayed until after the Spring Banquet.

Every bowl of porridge and every meal the refugees ate was was derived from the sale of Zhuge Yue’s various estates and properties throughout the land.  A man as proud as he was, lowered himself to appeal to the merchants of the capital, and asked them to join together and assist the people through this disaster.

He was too tired.  Tired to a point beyond his limit.  That is why he drank until he was drunk, bemoaning the stupidity of the emperor at the table, decrying the incompetence of the court, calling Zhao Yang an idiot and threatening to separate his head from his body this very night.  (TN:  Zhuge Yue is an embarrassing drunk…. -_-;)

He was really drunk.  To the point of being a sorry mess.

That night, Chu Qiao personally escorted Zhao Che, also drunk, to the door.  But as soon as he crossed the threshold the seventh prince who was just staggering underfoot suddenly stood up straight from the waist.  His eyes were no longer dazed as he quietly said to her, “Go back inside, and take good care of him.”

Chu Qiao watched him, standing quietly without saying a word.

There was a trace of coolness in Zhao Che’s expression as they stood opposite one another, and vaguely it seemed they had gone back to a time many years past.  At that time, the national power of DaXia was strong, its standing was first of the three countries, and he was the proud imperial prince.  She was the eye-catching instructor personally appointed by the emperor, standing in front of the loud military camp as she once said to him indifferently, “If you leave the camp today, you will die.” (TN: this refers back to a scene in book One)

How was life so bizarre?  

At the time, they had both harbored their malicious intentions, they had both taken precautions against one another and were plotting against each other.  How could they expect that one day they would stand entrenched together and become comrades in arms?

“The situation has come to this, and I am powerless to stop it.  If it goes on like this it will become a revolt against all of DaXia.  Right now, we still don’t have the strength.”

Zhao Che spoke in a low voice, his face unwavering.

Chu Qiao no longer looked at him, and turned to leave, (TN: LOL, girl still gives 0 F*…. ^__^;) but Zhao Che suddenly called her name from behind.  She turned, and saw his earnest expression as he said, “Old Fourth is a good man.  Don’t let him down.”

Chu Qiao’s gaze gradually narrowed, a faint trace of light flashed through them like the glint of a sword.  She slowly opened her mouth and whispered, “You also.”

Her meaning was ambiguous.

He was also?  Also what?  A good person?

No, Zhao Che understood exactly what she meant, but she did not wait for his response.  She turned and left.  Her body frame was light and thin, as if a sudden gust of wind would blow her away.

He is a good person, so don’t disappoint him.

The sky was a pitch-black canvas, full of starlight.  The wind blew from a distance.  He breathed it in deeply and could smell the hunger that came from the west.

When Chu Qiao returned to the room everything had been cleared away and there was no trace of Zhuge Yue who had lain drunk on the bed.  She walked all the way back to the study and opened the door, only to see him clear eyed, getting back to the matter at hand and writing with a passion as soon as he sat down by the bookshelf.

She watched him silently for a long time; watched as he finished writing, sealed the letter with wax, and then slowly walked over, kneeling by his side.  She took one of his hands and bent over to rest on one of his knees without saying a word.

The candles in the room burned quietly, from time to time a spark would sizzle, and break the silence.  The aroma from the incense burner rose and became a fine smoke.  His dry and slender fingers gently stroked her long hair. 

“Xing’er.”

He whispered her name. His voice was weighed down with tiredness and hard work.  But that was all he said, and nothing followed.

Her cheeks rested against his thigh, and she was surrounded by his scent. Her voice was like layers of gentle waves, quietly echoing in the room.  “I completely understand.”

His knee trembled, and he held her hand even tighter.

Yes, she did understand everything.  She understood his hard work and his fatigue.  She understood his disappointment and disdain for everything around him.  The emperor was muddled.  The princes were embattled. The ruling government was corrupt and incompetent.  The various institutions of the empire were dying.  After going through the hardships of war, after personally witnessing the suffering of the commoners, after reversing his fortunes and coming out from the wilderness, how could he bear to continue watching the ugliness of the country and its officials?

However, persistently, he was still a part of this battle. It’s just that he used Zhao Che’s superior position to cast aside all innocent thoughts.   But now, before seizing everything, he had to experience such a cold winter.  He didn’t even know what would be left after they stood atop the white bones and skeletons. After they brought down their enemies, what would be left of the world?

Civilization would be destroyed, the people would be slaughtered, the armies would be snuffed out, the country extinguished and what would be left was perhaps only them, facing the smoke and ash of a smoldering and devastated land, with thousands of lives buried by this battle.

Shifting politics, what was the meaning if after battle they destroyed everything and at such a price. Would they be able to pay it?

“Xing’er, I’m really not a good person.”  

He said it softly that night, just as dawn approached.  (TN: does anyone else find it odd that he’s always watching her, no matter where she is? It was like that when she was talking to his grave when she thought she was alone, it was like that when he watched her as Li Ce took her away from the battlefield.  He never lets her out of his sight, not even when drunk, lol.)

***

The next five days were so dark that it shocked the whole country of DaXia, and, even the whole continent.

The refugees outside of the three passes finally rioted.  They captured the manor of the ruling clan and looted the grain and money.  Because of hunger they begged.  When that didn’t work they stole.  When that failed they robbed.  When that wasn’t enough they rebelled.  

The officials forced them to rebel, and the people had no choice but to rebel.  

Hundreds of thousands of unarmed refugees took wood and stone to pry open the gates of the manor and ignited a bonfire in the thick soil of Western Yunan.   Countless died in the chaos.  The officers and men in the Yunan region seemed thin like paper paste and were as fragile as shafts of wheat.  Despite the repeated reports that the chaotic force was extremely strong, and they were being led by extremely capable leaders giving them pointers here and there.  No one believed it, and they all laughed it off as pretext and sophistry.

The officials were shocked, in succession reporting the events to the throne, but how could the hundreds of officials in court report it to the government now of all times, and report it to the emperor?  They could only secretly dispatch the army to placate the chaos.

But, the great Minister of War, Zhuge Yue, asked in return, “The empire has ascended in the world, and the people of the west have just become a part of its prosperity.  How could they commit treason and heresy by rebelling?  Surely, this is the biggest jest in the world.”  (TN: Zhuge Yue did not want to send the army to crush the rebellion and kill more people than necessary)

As a result, the issuing of troops was delayed, and delayed, and the chaos in the west became more and more pressing.  On the 24th of December a fast messenger horse entered the capital.  The rider was covered in blood, in his hand he had a report from Cao Chang Qing, and he vomited fresh blood and collapsed onto the Imperial Road.

The city was shocked.  At the forefront, the emperor was furious, yelling and cursing at the court.  On the spot he deprived Zhao Yang of the title of Master of the Western Provinces.  Zhao Che did not benefit from any of the turmoil.  On the contrary, it was the one who hid the key facts, the Seventeenth Prince, Zhao Yi, who led the army into the southwest to quell the chaos.  Zhuge Yue, who had prevented the immediate dispatch of troops to stop the chaos was punished with house arrest.  Several times, Zhao Che went to plead his cause and was dismissed by the emperor.

However Chu Qiao knew the origin of this turmoil.  When Zhao Che went to the manor and saw Zhuge Yue, he suddenly was furious and called him a madman.  Zhuge Yue nevertheless showed a smile and hooked an arm around his shoulder, saying “I only wanted to leave you some capital when you ascend.   If they are all dead, who would you lead as emperor?”

In the civil strife of the western Yunan region, there were countless deaths and injuries, and seven or eight of the ten large families of that clan ruined, with 80,000 dead in the revolt. But as Zhuge Yue had said, 80,000 in exchange for millions of lives saved, the exchange was really worth it.

Yes, it was worth it.  The southwest clan was destroyed, Mu Xiao Gong’s power was greatly diminished, and Jing Han was also affected.  Zhao Yang had angered the emperor and was cut off.  Though Zhao Che had no derived any benefit, but he also lost nothing.  Only Zhuge Yue was forced into house arrest to reflect, and for the time being, he retreated from DaXia’s political stage.

Everything seemed to go according to his plan.  But Chu Qiao clearly remembered how in those few days, every time he heard some people somewhere had been massacred en masse, where the rich had been shackled and thrown into dungeons, where defenders had been completely annihilated, where commoners had dropped into the grass, and the over the top news was nothing but bandits and murder   and the like, his nights were sleepless, and how extremely worried he was.  Everything had to be perfect.  If there was any slight deviation, if the people he sent could not restrain the chaos, could not avoid the local militia, could not incite some of the soldiers into armed rebellion,  then the entire result would have been bloody and muddy, and the entire southwestern region would be engulfed in the vast flames of war, and the consequences would have been disastrous. 

What they said about him was right, he really was crazy.

She was worried that he would be discouraged be depressed because his power was wrested from him, but indeed he was the one comforting her instead, saying he would finally be able to spend the end of the year with her.

The spring banquet finally arrived, and the arrogant former Minster of military affairs was left out in the cold, but inside the court laughter was rare.

Although the the news of the chaos in the southwest had passed into the capital, it did not affect the excitement and fanfare of the emperor’s big celebration day.  The streets and alleys were noisy and the government coordinated with local wealthy businessmen to set off fireworks in the square.  The laughter of children penetrated the heavy wall and blew in with the gentle wind into their lofty mansion.

Starting from three days prior, Zhuge Yue had ordered new decor for the entire manor. Scarlet red lanterns were hung up high to follow along the doors of the entrances of the winding corridor, the flowers outside the windows were a brilliant red.  Meticulously and carefully, the serving maids cut out various patterns such as the Canopus constellation representing the God of Longevity, XiLing’s deer of longevity, the eight immortals crossing the sea, the goddess Guan Yin, and thousands of other auspicious pictures.  They put out potted red flowers, lending color and extravagant aromas everywhere, and the servants changed into new clothes, a riot of more red, in one jubilant horde.

Zhuge Yue also resumed his way of life and work, reverting back to the days of Qingshan Pavilion.  He had always been a self-disciplined person and did not partake in the bad habits and pastimes as other sons of wealthy households such as hunting and riding.  Now that he was free, his days were spent more leisurely, he was careful to take care of his body, and presently spent his time reading and planting flowers.  Every morning in the early hours he was forced by Chu Qiao to exercise and build up his physique, the two of them learning from each other as they exchanged views of their skills.  One by one they competed with sword, spear and bow staff, always attracting the attention of the servants in the manor.  After a while, seeing Zhuge Yue had no reaction, they each in turn grew a little braver, and occasionally would applaud and shout out praise when witnessing one of them execute a brilliant move.

The days passed tranquilly and smoothly like this, as if they were in the quiet of the storm, calm enough to make a person nervous.  (TN: hate it when the author throws out ominous metaphors like this….)

The New Year came in this kind of quiet atmosphere.  She put on a new dress, brilliant red, all around its color enviably bright and beautiful.  The person reflected in the mirror had a face that shone like the rosy dawn of the three spring months, as if it was filled with endless joy and hope overflowing in the silk.  Zhuge Yue stood behind her, wearing a misty cyan blue robe, looking dangerously handsome.  He randomly selected a gold hair pin adorned with a bright pearl and skillfully wound up a spring green silk sash around her head, inserting the pin in the gap between her bun and hairline.

Chu Qiao looked at herself in the mirror and was momentarily embarrassed. She had never seen herself like this.  It seemed from a a very young age she had decided that women wearing read and green were extremely tacky, then, after being tossed about from place to place in her youth she was less inclined to dress up.  But wearing it today, it felt as though layers warmth came upon her a bit at a time, like ocean waves.  Her cheeks were bright like spring peach blossom, or like autumn crocus, and even her brows and lip line displayed a joy and warmth that could not be concealed.

Though she originally though it tacky, she no longer held that opinion.

Mei Xiang stood to one side and watched her with a smile, her face full of joy.  Zhuge Yue stepped forward lazily, smiling at the mirror and said, “You really are exceedingly beautiful.”  (TN: The phrase 倾国倾城   literally means the face of a woman lovely enough to cause the fall of a city or state, devastatingly beautiful, or in Western terms, a face to “launch a thousand ships.”)

Chu Qiao pushed him aside in embarrassment, her ears tinged red, and said, “You exaggerate.  Stop speaking nonsense.”

Zhuge Yue smiled as he gazed at her, saying, “I was speaking of myself.  What were you thinking?”

Furious, Chu Qiao reached out to pinch him, Zhuge Yue dodged to avoid it, and said to Mei Xiang, “Look at your household’s miss.  She flew into a rage just because I didn’t praise her.”

Mei Xiang smiled but did not retort.  The sun outside was extremely warm.  Far away there was the sound of firecrackers. 

Over the many years, this was Chu Qiao’s most peaceful New Years.  She even cooked and taught others how to wrap dumplings. She even wanted to enlist Zhuge Yue, but a certain someone exerted male chauvinism as he looked down at her in disdain and walked away. (^__^;)

They ate the New Years dinner, set off firecrackers, and hung the lanterns.  Zhuge Yue ate the dumpling with the red date in it, and the servants came to give him New Years congratulations.  He was in such a good mood he rewarded them with gifts that flowed like water, and the entire manor was filled with the sounds of happy people thanking his generosity.  The gates of Zhuge Manor were closed, and all those who came up were blocked off outside.  Only at midnight Zhao Che sent people to bring two jugs of good wine.  Chu Qiao and Zhuge Yue drank it together.  They drank until Chu Qiao’s head was dizzy, and in her drunken stupor she fell into Zhuge Yue’s embrace.

The servants were setting off firecrackers outside, and the popping sounds carried inside, full of jubilation. In her stupor Chu Qiao seemed to see Li Ce’s smiling fox eyes, and she reached out to grab it, only to grasp thin air.

She was really drunk but her head was so clear.  She remembered the years she passed in her own time, her friends at the academy and her colleagues from the military department.  She remembered her white-haired grandfather.  She recalled the years she spent wildly running and enduring hardship, and the several times she wandered into life and death situations.  She remembered Mr. Wu and Miss Yu.  She also remembered Jing Zi Su and many others who had died or were still living, as well as Li Ce and Yan Xun….

Happiness came so quickly, it had made her worry about personal gains and losses, and everything felt as though it were a dream.

She buried herself in Zhuge Yue’s arms, her nose filled with his pleasant scent like birch leaf pears.  Her eyes were slightly wet, and she lifted her head and looked at his handsome profile, and with bright eyes she suddenly said, “Zhuge Yue, I love you.”

Zhuge Yue was stunned.  He lowered his head.  Even though they were surrounded by servants, her voice was so loud it even overwhelmed the sound of the firecrackers.  Stunned, everyone had turned their heads to look at her.  But she completely ignored them and simply said in a loud voice, “Zhuge Yue, I’ve fallen in love with you!”  (TN: face palm…she is even more embarrassing than he is when drunk…)

A southeasterly wind passed through the hall, some people snickered low.  Jing Jing and Mo’er’s laughter was heard from far away.  Her cheeks had turned charmingly red, her eyes seemed to gather water, her gaze was direct.  In the span of half a year it seemed as though the face of the beautiful girl of seventeen or eighteen had returned.  (TN: recall back to the time they met again, before she left for Yan Bei) Just like that, she looked at him so directly, her smile beaming, her face written with the word ‘happiness’ in bold letters.  (TN: it seems the damage wrought by her many trials and by Yan Xun were finally smoothed over, with Zhuge Yue’s love and care.)

With a ‘whoosh’ the wind blew past her ear, and she was suddenly lifted up in the air and unceremoniously carried. Then, in front of everyone’s stunned faces, Zhuge Yue grazed a few bites from the table filled with dishes, and turned to retreat to the bed chamber.

The quilts on the bed were all new, all in red, the color of happiness.  On them, layers upon layers of embroidery.  There were mandarin ducks on the water, the cowherd and the weaver girl, there were magpies and the goddess Guan Yin to grant children.  A warm sweetness seeped through everywhere.

His eyes had darkened, revealing traces of fiery temper as he pulled open his collar and resolutely stared at her.  He said in a restrained voice, “Little siren, I will never again give you wine to drink.”

As soon as he said this, he bowed his head to firmly kiss her lips.  His breath was hot like fire, strong like a flame, and wherever he kissed, she went limp and numb.

The corners of her eyes were smiling as she hugged his waist and enthusiastically responded in kind.

Romance hung low, surrounded by brocade; the long night was noisy.  (TN: *blush*)  Outside, it was also filled with the sounds of lively laughter.

There were too many unpredictable variables in life.  You never know when the storm will come, or how big the waves will be, or whether they will overturn everything you have.  Some feelings that had been bitterly suppressed, those words that had been hidden for so many years, those emotions that were kept inside, had finally found a way out.  Everything is unpredictable, and all that can be done is to cherish what is in front of you.

The splendid brocade, the billowy curtain flying every which way,  she lay upon layer and layer of luxury, clinging to his body.  Emitting a fine sweat, both her body and mind were satisfied and worn out, she recoiled back into his arms.  Across his shoulders she looked out the window, separated by a layer of window paper, in the far-reaching heavens beautiful fireworks were faintly visible, wreaking havoc and wandering across the sky.

Whatever happened in the future, she would no longer be afraid. 

Tranlator’s note:  That got hot really fast…. Hahahahah, wasn’t expecting it. ^__^;  Hope you enjoyed it.  Seven chapters left, plus one epilogue….  Game of Thrones final season is coming back this month, so I will definitely be distracted.  But I will put up the next chapter as soon as I can.  - Kero