Volume One: Flames on the Frontier Chapter Sixty-One: A Battle of Wits Among Heroes

This question had been asked by Deng’er before, and now Chen Qingyun posed it as well, proving that throughout history, women have always cared deeply about their appearance.

In the past, He Yu had a standard reply to this query: as long as he uttered, “Of all the beauties in the world, Deng’er is the fairest,” Deng’er would inevitably break into a delighted smile. She was especially receptive to such words.

He Yu intended to repeat the same trick, but as the words reached his lips, he found himself unable to say them. Qingyun was not Deng’er; though she cherished herself equally, He Yu sensed a difference between the two from the depths of his heart.

He decided to answer her in another way. His eyes flickered, and he countered, “My lady, have you ever heard the saying, ‘Beauty lies in the eyes of the lover’?”

Chen Qingyun was momentarily taken aback, then replied, “Of course, it means that as long as two people are in love, no matter their looks, they will always find each other beautiful.”

“Exactly. You are my wife, my Xi Shi, the greatest beauty in my eyes. As for that Tuoba Yan, or Murong Shanshan, no matter how lovely they might be, they are of no concern to me. Besides, your beauty rivals theirs in every way. I feel blessed even when I sleep beside you,” He Yu declared, clapping his hands with solemn conviction.

Chen Qingyun covered her mouth and laughed, “He Lang, you certainly have a way with words. Very well, I believe you.” Unlike Deng’er, she was not one to linger on such matters once spoken; since her husband had put it thus, no matter how beautiful Tuoba Yan or Murong Shanshan might be, she would not envy them.

Having endured days of arduous travel, the two opted to rest indoors after their meal. Towards evening, Linghu, the chief historian, came to visit and invited them to attend tonight’s banquet.

The banquet was specially arranged by Tuoba Yan to welcome them. As guests, He Yu was eager to meet the other denizens of the princess’s mansion and gladly accepted.

As night fell, He Yu and Chen Qingyun dressed and made their way to the banquet.

The gathering took place in the ceremonial hall of the rear courtyard, ablaze with lanterns and full of grandeur. They arrived neither early nor late; many guests were already present.

He Yu took in the scene with a cold gaze. Tuoba Yan sat at the south, occupying the principal seat. To her east and west were rows of guest seats, two on each side, with a total of perhaps fifty people. Fortunately, the hall was spacious enough that the crowd felt neither cramped nor stifling.

Upon seeing their arrival, Tuoba Yan rose to greet them, introducing them to the other guests. After exchanging courtesies, He Yu and Chen Qingyun were seated at the head of the eastern row. Since the banquet was in their honor, their seating reflected respect.

He Yu observed the assembly: there were both nomads and Han, all older than himself, each a formidable lord of a fortress or head of an eminent family, as well as prominent figures from Pingcheng’s army and the princess’s household. Amidst their frosty exchanges, He Yu sensed a palpable air of hostility and disdain. Chen Qingyun too felt this subtle contempt and grew anxious, furtively glancing at He Yu. Seeing his relaxed smile, utterly unbothered, she suddenly found herself emboldened.

The Chen family’s fortress had originally been a second-rate stronghold; after annexing Tianxiong Fortress, their power grew rapidly, but not long after, they were crushed by Later Yan. Thus, in the three northern provinces, the Chen family’s name had faded entirely.

Ran Yu’s Lianyun Stronghold possessed few men, solely bent on vengeance. Though wealthy, they seldom mingled with other fortresses or noble families, and so had little renown. The assembled guests were all local magnates and cared little for Chen Fortress or Lianyun Stronghold.

He Yu, seeing the situation, instantly grasped the mood: “Damn, they’re looking down on us. Tonight, even if it isn’t a trap, I’ll have to emulate Zhuge Liang and debate these scholars.” He plotted internally, his face impassive, adopting an air of pride, staring at the space before him, determined that whoever spoke first would lose.

Once everyone was seated, Tuoba Yan raised her cup to toast: “Tonight’s gathering is to welcome He Yu, the master of Lianyun Stronghold, and Chen Qingyun, lady of Chen Fortress. You have endured much on your journey, for which I am most grateful. Please, drink this cup, and all present, join me in a toast.” She gestured graciously towards He Yu and Chen Qingyun.

She wore crimson soft armor and a white cloak, her presence radiant and noble in the lantern light. Every movement exuded commanding authority.

Her temperament differed greatly from Murong Shanshan, also a princess. Murong Shanshan was innocent, gentle as an orchid, whereas Tuoba Yan, as the reigning princess, was decisive and forceful—every bit the archetype of a domineering female leader.

Chen Qingyun had long managed the affairs of her fortress, but a fortress is not a nation. At best, Chen Qingyun was a company executive, while Tuoba Yan was like a head of state.

He Yu and Chen Qingyun rose with their cups, about to offer words of gratitude, when suddenly, a man across the table stood up as well. He was around sixty, plump and pale-faced, clean-shaven, and introduced himself as Yuan Hui, styled De Cao, master of Yuan Fortress in Shanggu, claiming descent from the Yuan clan of Runan.

The Yuan clan of Runan, ever since the downfall of the brothers Yuan Shao and Yuan Shu during the Three Kingdoms, had lost much of its former glory. Yuan Hui had brought only three hundred men to forge alliances, so he was not highly regarded, especially since two other, stronger groups had also arrived that day.

At tonight’s banquet, Yuan Hui, being the eldest, was denied the seat of honor and felt slighted, harboring resentment.

But to his surprise, the two newly arrived guests, still young and without a single soldier, were seated so grandly at the head. This infuriated him, and he resolved to publicly humiliate them to assert his presence.

As the saying goes, arriving early is less fortunate than arriving at the right moment. He Yu and Chen Qingyun were given the seat of honor simply because they were recent arrivals. Yuan Hui’s indignation, however, was unknown to He Yu.

Yuan Hui now stood and, in flowery language, said, “I have long heard of Master He’s reputation, resounding like thunder. To meet you today is a lifelong privilege. It is said the scholars of Jiangzuo are gifted in letters, children versed in literature. I have composed a couplet and would ask Master He to kindly respond.”

He swept his wide sleeves and, with a subtle smile to the assembly, declared, “There is little amusement at the table; I offer this only for your laughter.”

The crowd erupted in laughter, eager to witness a spectacle.

He Yu frowned: “This fool wishes to exchange couplets. Coming from the modern age, I am well-read, but composing poetry and couplets is hardly my strength; most modern people never learn it. If I mess up, I’ll be embarrassed. I considered brushing him off with words.”

Yuan Hui, swaying his head, pronounced his couplet: “With a four-foot scroll, before the Princess, how dare a mere youth take the seat of honor?”

He Yu was troubled, but suddenly inspiration struck, and he responded without thinking, “Having read ten thousand books and traveled ten thousand miles, even a commoner may stand proud before princes.”

His reply, bold and disdainful of all, stunned Yuan Hui into silence.

Having managed to produce such a retort, He Yu feared Yuan Hui would pose another challenge and hurriedly turned defense into offense, sneering, “The Yuan clan of Runan, four generations and three Grand Ministers, their disciples and officials spread throughout the realm. Yuan Shao and Yuan Shu were once heroes, but who would have thought their descendants would be mere pedantic scholars, like Master Yuan here. I have no desire to engage with such, so please say no more.”

He Yu borrowed this speech almost verbatim from Zhuge Liang’s famous debate in “Romance of the Three Kingdoms,” delivering a sharp rebuke and then withdrawing, claiming victory early.

His words insulted Yuan Hui’s ancestors, turning the old man’s face a deep, angry red. The phrase “please say no more” left him speechless, trembling with rage, finger pointed at He Yu, lips quivering, yet unable to utter a word.

He Yu felt secretly triumphant, not raising his head, sipping his wine as though these words had never passed his lips.

The guests were inwardly astonished: “This youth named He Yu, quick-tongued and sharp-witted, is ruthless in his words. He is certainly no easy opponent.”

Tuoba Yan, seeing Yuan Hui humiliated, was about to offer a few conciliatory words to ease the tension.

Just then, from the west side of the hall, another man abruptly rose. This was a slender, scholarly figure in his fifties, dressed in wide robes and sleeves, his head wrapped in a scholar’s cap, three long strands of beard beneath his chin, affecting an ethereal demeanor.

From the earlier introductions, He Yu remembered him as Lu Yi, styled Shangyi, of the Lu clan of Fanyang—a renowned northern family with many branches and fortresses. Lu Yi was the master of Lu Fortress in Dai Prefecture.

Lu Yi was born with crossed eyes, mostly white, and now wore a look of disdain, raising his chin and saying, “Master He, may I ask your age? How many books have you read, to dare such disrespect towards your elders?”

He Yu set down his cup, thinking, “The debate begins in earnest; this fool is flaunting his seniority, how irritating.”

He sneered, “I am twenty-one this year, and haven’t read many books—perhaps just over a thousand.”

Coming from the modern era, He Yu had studied hundreds of textbooks alone throughout his life; reporting a thousand was actually an understatement. In those times, the total amount of knowledge paled in comparison, books were rare, and mostly monopolized by powerful families. Even ordinary noble fortresses didn’t possess a thousand volumes. His claim immediately provoked uproarious laughter.

Tuoba Yan looked at He Yu, her face a mixture of skepticism and belief. Chen Qingyun, knowing He Yu to be clever and skilled in martial arts, had never heard him speak of reading. Now, hearing this, she found it incredible and worried her husband might have boasted too much and would be left embarrassed, her face flushed with concern.

He Yu, having spoken, ignored Lu Yi and continued drinking.

Lu Yi, having failed to show off, was infuriated: “This brat dares call himself master before me and boasts of reading a thousand books with such arrogance—outrageous.” The Lu clan of Fanyang was far more prestigious than the Yuan clan of Runan, an old camel even in decline. Not only youths like He Yu, but even respected elders would not dare to act so in Lu Yi’s presence.

Lu Yi, his face darkening, pressed further, “Master He claims to be well-read, yet knows nothing of propriety. To call oneself master before elders is one fault. Secondly, the princess graciously offered you the seat of honor, yet you failed to offer even a word of humility, simply taking your seat. Such conduct is highly discourteous. These two points alone show that your claim to extensive reading is hardly credible. What say you, gentlemen?”

His words dragged Qingyun into the matter; she had felt something amiss when they sat, but hadn’t given it much thought until now, and her face burned with embarrassment. Etiquette was strict then, and minor missteps could lead to reproach.

The assembly erupted in laughter, with some voices of derision and censure.

“Heh heh... heh heh... heh heh...”

“Heh heh... heh heh... heh heh...”

He Yu leaned on the table, laughing heartily, his laughter drowning out the whispers: “Damn, I detest Confucian notions of filial piety and hierarchy most. This old man is good at picking faults; soon I’ll show him what’s what.”