Chapter 32: The Schemes of the Recluse of Huayang

After the dog meat stew came the roasted dog meat.

Finally, they served dog meat in a sour soup.

The forty-five-degree white wine was far too strong for this group.

Not long after drinking, the venerable Yuan Cong began hiding his wine; his sleeves were soaked through.

But the sharp-eyed Mr. Jingjie caught him.

This reclusive hermit, indifferent to worldly affairs, grabbed Yuan Cong and started forcing him to drink. The others joined in the ruckus.

King Chu had the best tolerance for alcohol and even managed to match Gu Dao in drinking.

After drinking for a long time without getting muddled, he insisted that Gu Dao was using them, unfilial, and forcibly made Gu Dao compose a poem.

The brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone were prepared; emboldened by the wine, Gu Dao began to write.

As the characters fell onto the white paper, he recited each word with a chant:

“When gaining, sing loudly; when losing, rest. Much sorrow and hatred also pass by leisurely. Drink today’s wine and get drunk today; tomorrow’s sorrow can wait till tomorrow.”

“Good, what a carefree 'tomorrow’s sorrow'...” Zhang Qiong admired this genuine and uninhibited spirit.

“Drink today’s wine and get drunk today; drink again,” King Chu said happily, raising his cup to toast.

After the cups and plates were in disarray, everyone was drunk.

Yuan Cong vomited as soon as he got home; even after vomiting, he mumbled regret about such fine dog meat.

Then his concubine helped him back to bed.

Gu Dao returned to his courtyard, and Little Bean toddled over, whispering to him:

“Just as you suspected, Wei Qingmei secretly sent a message to Dou Tuo, thinking it was a secret.”

Gu Dao nodded; he had long anticipated that Wei Qingmei would try to warn Dou Tuo for Gu Ling’s sake.

Tonight’s drinking gathering was a trap for Wei Qingmei and, naturally, for Dou Tuo as well.

“Two willing fathead fish,” Gu Dao sneered and went inside to sleep immediately.

Mr. Jingjie slept at Chujiang Tower; the others returned to their homes.

Master Huayang left Chujiang Tower and made a hand gesture.

Immediately, a secret guard hurried over.

He was constantly protected by guards.

“Take me to the palace at once,” Master Huayang said, climbing into the carriage.

The guard was stunned—Master Huayang was requesting the palace gates be unlocked so late at night.

What urgent matter could have arisen?

He dared not delay and secretly sent a message: “Master is drunk, entering palace immediately.”

Master Huayang’s carriage arrived at a concealed side gate of the palace, where the emperor was already waiting in a small study.

When Master Huayang reached the study, a sobering soup was just served.

“Master, did something urgent happen to bring you to the palace in such haste?” the emperor asked anxiously.

Master Huayang steadied himself, bowed, and said:

“The Northern Di envoy is arriving soon, correct?”

“According to the border reports, they are on their way. Master, do you have any strategy to break the deadlock?” the emperor asked eagerly.

The Northern Di’s aggression this time was fierce and hard to counter.

Master Huayang took a breath and said only one word:

“Divide…”

Immediately, a palace maid brought a copper basin; with a retch, Master Huayang vomited the wine and food.

Other maids quickly lit incense and helped him rinse his mouth.

After rinsing, Master Huayang drank the sobering soup deeply.

Finishing, he sighed:

“Gu Xiuzhi’s wine is too strong; it nearly knocked me down.”

The emperor looked puzzled; his master’s late-night palace visit surely meant something urgent, but why mention his prospective son-in-law?

Master Huayang stood and approached the desk, gathering all the brushes.

“Your Majesty, today Gu Xiuzhi posed an interesting mathematical problem.”

The emperor was even more confused. Opening the palace gates late at night for a math problem?

No, Gu Dao never showed interest in math before.

Master Huayang placed the brushes on the desk as if they were horses and explained the old problem of dividing horses among an elder and his sons.

The emperor frowned at the eleven brushes. Though not expert in math, he knew it was impossible to divide evenly.

“This is impossible to divide; it’s forcing the impossible. What father would leave such a problem to his children?” the emperor complained.

Master Huayang smiled slightly and placed one more brush.

Then, following the method, he divided them and retrieved the added brush intact, meaningfully saying:

“The total number remains the same, but the problem is solved. All problems are solved.”

The emperor’s interest flickered briefly.

He was an emperor; he would not be captivated by trivial games.

Besides, his master’s midnight palace visit must have greater significance.

“The Northern Di envoy?” the emperor guessed suddenly.

“Yes. Though the Northern Di remain strong, internally they are fractured,” Master Huayang said.

The emperor was well aware of this longtime northern adversary.

Though the Northern Di Khan was a mere figurehead, overshadowed by three powerful tribes, their overall strength endured.

“But what does this problem have to do with the Northern Di?” the emperor asked.

Master Huayang handed the brush to the emperor and said:

“To gain, one must first give. Our previous ideas were wrong; we must be willing to part with something to obtain something.”

The emperor frowned.

“Master means we support one tribe to fight the other two?”

Master Huayang shook his head.

“The Northern Di are no fools. Such a trick is obvious. If we did that, they would unite to attack us.”

The emperor frowned, still unsure of his master’s meaning.

Master Huayang pointed to a spot on the map on the wall.

“Ganzhou? What does Master mean?” the emperor’s voice trembled slightly.

Master Huayang spoke solemnly:

“Ganzhou controls the most fertile pasture south of the desert. It should be our horse-breeding land, but for twenty years the Northern Di have harassed us incessantly.”

“Not only have they failed to contribute horses, but they have also consumed most of our northern defenses’ strength. Twenty years, hundreds of thousands of sons buried, millions of taels of silver spent.”

“Better to give it to them.”

The emperor focused on that place, gradually understanding Master Huayang’s idea.

Such a notion was wildly unconventional but promising.

“The three Northern Di tribes are evenly matched, but once one gains Ganzhou, its strength will surge. Internal balance will collapse.”

Emperor Qian understood well that imbalance in court power spells disaster for the ruler—and the nation.

But Master Huayang shook his head.

“No, that won’t happen. A fat meat bone draws three fierce dogs.”

“Before one can dominate, they will bare their fangs at each other.”

The emperor suddenly understood: the three tribes would inevitably fight among themselves, and Northern Di would never have peace.

As long as internal strife raged, Great Qian could recover and even sow discord to ensure perpetual turmoil.

If the Northern Di weakened, we could reclaim Ganzhou.

We could even lead a northern campaign to avenge past humiliations.

This was an unwinnable open secret for the Northern Di.

Yet the emperor did not rejoice.

Expanding territory is a ruler’s glory, but ceding land would tarnish his reputation.

Great Qian had shed too much blood for this land. Who would dare suggest such a plan?

They would be struck down immediately and condemned eternally.

Master Huayang sensed the emperor’s hesitation and said:

“Your Majesty, do not worry. This plan is grand, not to be rushed. It requires careful strategy.”

“But this Gu Dao, a clever and bold youth, is worth great use.”

The emperor now understood; Ganzhou was too significant for a simple decision between two men.

But Gu Dao’s praise from Master Huayang sparked his interest.

“Just because of this problem?” the emperor asked.

Master Huayang shook his head, sipping tea as he recounted today’s events.

“He dared to sit with us and use you all against Dou Tuo? Such audacity!”

The emperor was shocked.

Master Huayang, relaxed, pondered a moment and said:

“I have only seen him twice. He is not just audacious; he simply does not regard us.”

The emperor was utterly baffled. Who in the world would dare disregard these men?

That was sheer recklessness.

“Your Majesty, watch him closely. Too much force breaks easily. Don’t let him show too much sharpness,” Master Huayang advised.

The emperor was surprised to hear Gu Dao so highly esteemed by Master Huayang.

But thinking of the turmoil with his daughter, he felt a headache.

He voiced doubts long held inside: “Master, what do you think of him and Qianyun?”

Master Huayang replied immediately:

“The way of marriage is balance—yin and yang must last. Both are too stubborn. Better for Your Majesty to find a gentler daughter.”

Master Huayang and the emperor talked late into the night about state matters.

Early the next morning, at the Yuan residence—

Watching Gu Dao and Guan Shitou spar vigorously, Wei Qingmei struggled to contain her shock.

They had already informed Dou Tuo. Was it disbelief or fear?

Inside, she felt as if fifty rats clawed at her heart, desperate to know why.

She could not ask Gu Dao directly.

Only by indirect questioning Little Bean.

Wei Qingmei despised Little Bean—the child’s nostrils flared, eyes uneven, dark and ugly.

She scorned herself: like attracts like. Such an ugly book boy matched Gu Dao’s unsavory character.

Ugly meant stupid, in Wei Qingmei’s fixed view.

She thought she could easily extract what happened at Chujiang Tower from this ugly book boy with a few words.

“Little Bean, seeing how your master is, last night’s banquet was quite something, wasn’t it?” Wei Qingmei feigned casualness.

Little Bean chuckled dumbly and scratched his head:

“If you hadn’t secretly sent someone to tell Dou Tuo, it probably wouldn’t have been so exciting.”

Wei Qingmei’s heart clenched sharply.

Like a bucket of cold water dumped over her head, a chill crept from inside out.

She felt the ugly child’s face brimmed with biting mockery.

She blurted instinctively:

“You ugly slave, what nonsense are you spouting?”

Little Bean smiled plainly, but to Wei Qingmei, it seemed sinister.

“The young master knew you wouldn’t let this chance slip, so he kept me and Brother Shitou watching you.”

“You were careful—tore silk from your clothes and used the accounting office’s ink.”

“You paid the peddler five wen to pass the letter to your maid.”

Little Bean’s words were like lashes, making Wei Qingmei tremble uncontrollably—each word true.

Her shaking was not from fear of exposure but from realizing her supposedly clever double-edged plan had been anticipated by Gu Dao.

Perhaps she herself was part of Gu Dao’s scheme.

She felt utterly toyed with, a desperate despair clutching her heart.

She screamed wildly:

“Ah, shut up! Don’t say anymore!”

After Gu Dao finished training and washing up,

Wei Qingmei stood before him, head bowed.

She dared not raise her eyes, fearing he would see through her thoughts.

Gu Dao knew she had been reprimanded but intended not to let her off easily.

Hands behind his back, he asked coldly:

“In your Wei family, what is the price of betrayal?”

His words were like a knife at her throat, filled with deadly resolve.

In the Wei family, betrayers die.

Seeing her silent but trembling, Gu Dao mercilessly continued:

“Because of this, I could easily return you to your grandmother. Ask her—is this how the Wei family keeps its word?”

“No…” Wei Qingmei’s voice was pleading.