Chapter 539: Reputation and Fracture

Ji Yanzhong's resolve shocked everyone in the Ying Emperor's central camp, especially the aristocratic families dragged along with them—they knew Ji Yanzhong had always been known for his gentleness; how could such a benevolent old man suddenly erupt with such finality?

A young man from one of the aristocratic families twisted his face in anguish.

He sighed suddenly, removed his hairpin, and said: "Of the Red Emperor's line, our generations have lived on the Red Emperor's stipend; our titles, honors, and offices have never been lacking. Now the state is collapsing—how can we still cling to our own skins?"

Without regard for the sudden pallor of his clan elders around him, he spoke.

With disheveled hair, he leapt from the cliff to his death.

Another twenty or so youths followed, leaping to their deaths.

The grim atmosphere moved even the Ying soldiers gripping spears and great blades; He Ruo Qinhu knew men were not simply good or evil, firm or weak—his divine sight, sharp as a celestial general's, saw the corpses floating in the blood-soaked waters.

He saw the princess dressed as a little girl, and Ji Yanzhong.

At He Ruo Qinhu's level, one glance revealed they were nothing but straw dummies.

Yet seeing his sovereign thus, he fell silent for a long while.

The identity of 【Red Emperor's Daughter】 had already died—publicly, before all eyes.

Suddenly someone whispered: "The Princess still lives, still lives—perhaps she can be saved…"

"Bring her into the palace—it would be legitimate…"

He Ruo Qinhu took down his bow, drew the string; the Xuan-Bing-tier warbow howled, pure Qi coalescing into a single arrow. A true divine general—just one bow, one shot—the arrow pierced miles, shattering Ji Yanzhong and the little girl's "corpses."

The blood of the Red Emperor stained the river.

Beneath the divine general's aura, the straw vanished instantly.

Ji Yanzhong's and "Ji Ning'er's" "blood" mingled, swept away by the surging river; He Ruo Qinhu's eyes remained calm, neither sorrowful nor joyful—yet beneath this tide of fate, none had any choice.

In this way, even the most skilled hidden hunters would never find anything again.

Complete death, too, is a gentle mercy.

Let me see you off one last time, Ji Yanzhong.

The murmurs of the aristocrats and the thoughts of the Ying army's officers froze in an instant—only the river surged, only the wind carried its fierce, solemn chill, and only the waves He Ruo Qinhu had blocked continued crashing against the riverbank.

"The Red Emperor's lineage, born eight hundred years ago—truly tragic."

He Ruo Qinhu lowered his bow, knelt halfway to the ground, and said:

"Your Majesty, Ji Yanzhong and Ji Ning'er have taken their own lives."

"I feared they might not die—I have executed them."

The Ying Emperor looked at the old general, removed his battle robe, and said: "Reward him."

He Ruo Qinhu replied: "Thank you, Your Majesty."

He rose and accepted the Ying Emperor's battle robe with both hands; the Emperor watched the river in silence, then withdrew his gaze, stepping slowly back to his camp—his feet crushed blood-soaked earth, and he did not look back.

Historical records state: He Ruo Qinhu was cruel—he personally slew the Red Emperor's bloodline. After Ji Yanzhong and Princess Changle leapt from the cliff, he still shot their bodies with heavy bow and arrows, desecrating them. This solemn divine general's reputation gained much infamy.

The Ying Emperor walked calmly along his own path.

He did not conceal or suppress the news—he recorded the affairs of Ji Zichang, Wen Wan'er, Ji Yanzhong, and others in the annals, letting them spread across the land, and never imprisoned the scholars who wrote biographies of Ji Zichang.

He even personally read these biographies, then summoned the young author and said: "You didn't write enough—how can poetry and verse capture the fierce, noble spirit of such a man?"

The young man froze.

The Ying Emperor, whose reputation was half praise, half blame, chuckled softly under the candlelight, staring at the yellowed pages: "You should write of Ji Zichang's fear, Ji Zichang's longing, Ji Zichang's resolve—and finally, his fire."

"The Red Emperor's name is Ji Zichang—but Ji Zichang should not be the Red Emperor. He tore through his final chains, and after he died, you scholars kneel and offer him back his title."

"He does not deserve this."

"You've turned him into a rigid, heroic monarch."

"What difference is there between him and the statues on this thousand-year scroll?"

The Ying Emperor placed the manuscript calmly over the candle flame, letting the fire devour the words; the flames lit his eyes: "How could I, the sovereign, be outmaneuvered by such a statue-like figure?"

"Rewrite it."

The young man gathered courage and said: "Your Majesty, aren't you afraid the world will call you a traitor?"

The aged monarch laughed loudly: "I once heard a saying: Are kings, marquises, generals, and ministers born of a different seed? If one has such spirit, how can one forever treat the fallen dynasty as the sole legitimate line? Must kingship forever belong only to them?"

"Traitor?"

The Ying Emperor smiled faintly: "Are kings, marquises, generals, and ministers born of a different seed?"

"How could overthrowing a fallen dynasty be any less legitimate than seizing power?"

………………

Ji Zichang's upheaval, the collapse of the Red Emperor's line, surged like a great wind across the waves. Before this, all news from Zhongzhou had been suppressed by the Ying Emperor and the two divine generals—no one dared, nor could anyone, transmit such news.

The Ying Emperor departed.

The news spread across the land at astonishing speed.

When it reached Jiangnan, it coincided precisely with Qin Wang's edict demanding a posthumous title for Ji Zichang. The Tiance Prefecture fell silent; Qu Hanxiu, the eminent scholar of the Zhongzhou faction, also remained quiet for a long while.

Then he proceeded as if nothing had happened, completing the task.

Nan Hanwen was somewhat concerned for the old man; though the old fellow appeared proper, he harbored quiet schemes and often stole meals from Nan Hanwen—but he still possessed three parts of integrity and inner composure.

He brought some gifts to visit Qu Hanxiu's residence.

He knocked for a long time, but the old man gave no reply.

Nan Hanwen felt a stone in his chest—he was about to kick the door open when the door swung inward. Inside stood a small page boy—though Qu Hanxiu was so poor he often came to beg meals, he still insisted on certain refinements.

For instance, the quality of his writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone.

For instance, the cut and style of his robes.

For instance, how could a great Confucian scholar lack a page boy?

Nan Hanwen exhaled slightly: "Where is Master Qu?"

The page boy said: "Master Qu went to eat—duck blood vermicelli soup."

Nan Hanwen let out a breath, laughed ruefully, and scolded: "Old fellow, your appetite's still not bad — made me worry for nothing." Saying so, he was about to pick up the gifts he had already set down, intending to take them straight back.

So-called, those above set the example, those below follow.

The frugal virtue of His Majesty Qin Wang spread through the entire Tiance Prefecture like a virus.

The young scribe was surprised, then said: "Is it Nan Hanwen, Scholar Nan?"

Nan Hanwen was puzzled and said: "It's me. I've never been here before — how do you recognize me?"

The young scribe answered: "Before Elder Qu went out today, he told me that if, after he left, a person came here who was about a dozen years younger than him, spoke quite impolitely, brought gifts, and then tried to take the gifts back as he was leaving—"

"—that would be Mr. Nan Hanwen."

The corner of Nan Hanwen's mouth twitched.

The young scribe only told Nan Hanwen to wait here a moment. He himself went back to the rented room, and shortly came out carrying something, saying: "This is the letter Elder Qu left for you, sir."

Nan Hanwen's heart sank; he set the things down.

The young scribe seized the chance.

Following the instructions Qu Hanxiu had whispered into his ear earlier, he immediately snatched the things Nan Hanwen had brought, darted back into the courtyard in one swift motion, shut the door, and stared at Nan Hanwen warily, like a stray little black cat.

But Nan Hanwen, who had grown frugal through his own experiences, paid no heed to this. He opened the letter, and after only a few glances his expression changed drastically. He cared for nothing else, simply turned around, and sprinted toward that familiar place.

He even fell once along the way, but paid it no mind — got up, stumbling and staggering, and kept running.

His palm clenched tight around the letter.

【Nan boy, you must have come to look for this old man. Ha ha, the lad's always been sharp-tongued on the surface but proud at heart. Now it seems you do care about this old man after all. Ha ha ha, not bad, not bad. So-called propriety must come from within.】

【You may be counted as a man of courtesy.】

【His Majesty the Scarlet Emperor has passed on. Do you imagine this old man would die for his country, or lay down his loyalty for His Majesty? To speak plainly — I would not. In my youth I studied the Confucian classics, following the example of Master Zilu — upright and courageous, walking my own path.】

【Later I discovered that most matters in this world are beyond a man's control.】

【And I grasped one truth.】

【The world of the rivers and lakes is treacherous — when you can't hold your ground, retreat.】

【The already-rotten line of the Scarlet Emperor is not worth this old man's death. How could a gentleman die so trivially?】

【This old man does have one question. Do you still remember the first time you and I ate that duck-blood vermicelli soup? We talked, and I told you how, that day, I was shaken by His Majesty Qin Wang's words — 'Invite the world to lay down their lives' — and was thrown into panic and confusion.】

【It is because destruction alone would plunge the world into chaos without order, and the common folk would be no better than straw dogs, with not a single day of peace to speak of. But His Majesty Qin Wang's order was being laid down at the same time.】

【Severing the past, opening up a great peace, settling the realm — that is the true way.】

【Only…】

Nan Hanwen's steps were hurried. At this moment, he hated that he was not one of those skilled martial artists, without that kind of lightness and technique, still having to rely on these two legs. He dashed out onto the street — there were so many people ahead.

Under Qin Wang's governance, especially here in Jiangnan where the policies had been implemented earliest, it was truly prosperous.

There were schoolchildren just dismissed from class, laughing and chatting about what they would do today; there were old folk buying vegetables, men and women entering the city in cheerful conversation. The bustling mortal world was like a long river, blocking Nan Hanwen's way.

"Excuse me, excuse me!"

"Pardon me, please let me through."

"Let me through…"

Master Nan Hanwen threaded against the current of the crowd, pushing forward.

But the mortal world, like a long river, blocked his path ahead. Anxious at heart, he could not advance.

And in the small alley off that street, at that same stall, bustling as ever, the shopkeeper saw that old man coming again. It wasn't that his memory was especially good — though anyone running such a business had to remember the customers who came and went; honestly, a poor memory wouldn't do.

But nowadays there were far too many customers passing through. To say he could remember every single one would be unrealistic indeed. Yet he had a deep memory of this old man.

He was simply too distinctive.

On one hand, there was that meticulous, stubborn old-pedant air about him.

It was the air of learning that came from having read deeply through the classics.

On the other hand, he was extremely stubborn and set in his ways — every time he came here he ordered the same thing, never changing.

And finally, no matter the season, the old man always wore clothing that, at this time of year, looked swelteringly hot. These few traits made him 'stand out from the crowd' — honestly, it was rather impossible to overlook him.

So the shopkeeper wiped his hands, stepped forward to greet him, and said cheerfully: "Old gentleman, you've come."

Qu Hanxiu, meticulous as ever, said: "Mm."

The shopkeeper said: "The usual?"

Qu Hanxiu smiled, gazing out at the street, and said: "No."

He looked at the shopkeeper and said: "Today I'll have something new."

The shopkeeper was taken aback, but paid it no mind, simply smiling as he said:

"Right away, please have a seat."

The shopkeeper briskly served up a bowl of radish and old duck soup, a bowl of rice, and a plate of shredded pickled vegetables — simple, hearty fare. Qu Hanxiu ate with his usual meticulousness, when he noticed at a nearby table an old man and a child, apparently just arrived from somewhere else; from their speech, they seemed to have accents from elsewhere.

It was their first time in this Jiangnan region, and they were not very familiar with the local specialties.

Children who came from poor, hard places and then arrived in a prosperous one were often stubborn, yet easily influenced by their surroundings, always feeling that everyone was watching them, laughing at them, and naturally becoming full of awkwardness.

The more awkward they felt, the worse they did.

Just as the boy was so anxious sweat was breaking out on his head, he heard a laugh. His whole body tensed, but then he heard a sentence in his home dialect: "That's not how you eat it."

He froze, looked up, and saw an old man smiling at him, speaking in the language of his own hometown — even the accent of the nearby area — and could not help but feel a great deal of closeness.

The boy asked uncertainly: "You — you're also from Wulitun, Zhao County?"

Qu Hanxiu smiled: "You and your grandfather left your hometown…"

The boy and his grandfather exchanged a glance. The man, considerably younger than Qu Hanxiu, said: "Ah, this — it's that the boy showed some promise. He solved the riddles left behind by the Mohist teachers. Before that Mohist teacher left, he said that anyone who could solve them had a talent for Mohist mechanisms, and could come here to try."

"His Majesty Qin Wang said that studying is useful."

"So we brought the boy here to try."

"We're not after any great wealth or status — we just can't let the boy scratch in the dirt for food like the rest of us."

"It's just that I only came here today, never seen how people eat here, ended up making a fool of myself."

Qu Hanxiu laughed: "What's there to make a fool of?"

"The world is so vast, even if you're a genius, visiting famous teachers, learning until your hair turns white like mine, there are still many things you don't understand. Not understanding but fearing others will say you don't understand, and then not asking — you'll never understand forever."

"But if you ask, won't you learn?"

The child said instinctively: "But then I'll be laughed at."

Qu Hanxiu said with a smile: "So what if they laugh?"

The child was stunned.

Qu Hanxiu said: "We just keep walking forward while being laughed at. Want to learn how to eat?"

The child hesitated, stood up and patted the clothes on his body, no longer caring about the patches on them, gave a proper bow, and said: "Please teach me, Mr."

Qu Hanxiu smiled proudly, stroked his beard and said: "Ruzike Sect."

"If you want to learn, then I'll teach you."

The old man held the cake, explaining with great animation: "This cake, you can eat it plain, you can soak it and eat it, any way you want to eat it works — just pick it up and put it in your mouth and bite."

"Some people eat it plain, tasting the grain fragrance inside the cake."

"Then break off a little piece, soak it in duck blood soup, soak up the duck flavor, eat it — it tastes like duck meat, but isn't duck meat, quite wonderful."

"Also, I have another wonderful way of eating it, learned from a young Mr."

Qu Hanxiu raised his brows, took the half cake proudly, held it upright, poked at the soft middle of the cake, then squeezed hard, squeezing out a hollow

Then he put duck blood, duck offal, and pickled radish inside together, handed it to the child. The child took a big bite — entering the mouth, the tough, wheat-fragrant cake body, the soft duck blood, the crisp duck offal, the radish, all kinds of textures appeared at once.

His eyes went wide.

He took another big bite.

Qu Hanxiu stroked his beard and smiled proudly: "How is it? Good, right?"

The child nodded vigorously.

"So, don't be afraid to ask, don't be afraid of things you don't know."

"If you don't open your mouth, you'll never know such wonderful opportunities."

"Is face that important?"

The child was stunned for a long while, then said: "But there are always people who are unwilling to speak up."

He paused, then said: "If only these things and secrets could all be recorded in a book, told to everyone, that would be wonderful, wonderful indeed. Even those who cannot speak could learn many things from the book."

Qu Hanxiu asked with a smile: "What is your name?"

The child answered: "Song Da."

Qu Hanxiu said: "That name is too rough, not in accordance with propriety."

The child stood and bowed, saying: "Please give me a name, Mr."

Qu Hanxiu was stunned, then laughed heartily: "You have an interesting temperament, no wonder you could solve what the Mohist Master left behind. Alright, then this old man shall give you a name…" Qu Hanxiu stroked his beard, thought for a long while, then said: "Since ancient times, heroes are born in answer to the stars."

"You shall be called Song Yingxing."

"Among the host of stars, Song Changgeng is the Star of Dawn, illuminating the dark night. I hope you can, as you said, write such an all-encompassing book."

"Called Song Yingxing, courtesy name Song Changgeng."

The child thanked him respectfully. Qu Hanxiu left with a smile, looking at the scenery between heaven and earth, his steps unhurried. He walked to a lake near a Jiangnan city, the old man gazed at the lake with a warm, peaceful expression, then rose and strolled slowly.

Nan Hanwen stumbled and staggered as he ran to the eating place, Qu Hanxiu was nowhere to be seen.

The shopkeeper recognized him, saying: "It's Mr. Nan."

Nan Hanwen said: "Did Elder Qu come by?"

The shopkeeper said with a smile: "He came, he came, just left a little while ago. Oh right, he ordered some things for you…" Nan Hanwen froze, looked over, and saw only a bowl of duck blood vermicelli soup at the place where he usually sat.

Nan Hanwen stood dazed, lost, his eyes reddening. He turned and strode out, stumbling as he ran.

Qu Hanxiu stepped into the lake, his expression calm and unhurried.

【However, establishing a new order of rites is not that simple. As the ancients said, without destruction, there is no establishment】

【How to break it? This old man thought, there is nothing more direct than, after the old rites end, going further. And how to break it thoroughly — there is nothing more intuitive than the fall of a figure who symbolizes the rites of the past】

【This old man has already, by borrowing the Qin Wang's coming-of-age ceremony, thoroughly become the most representative figure of the old rites. The rites of the past all fall to this old man's decision — one might call it authoritative arbitrariness. Yet, do you think this is the fame this old man seeks?】

【Ridiculous. Such figures exist in every dynasty】

【This old man chases fame — how could he be satisfied with merely this?】

【Now, His Majesty the Red Emperor has died for his country, representing the collapse of the foundation of the old rites. And now, the high buildings constructed upon that foundation of old rites should also be overturned. Only after that can the new rites be established more naturally and thoroughly】

【Without destruction, there is no establishment. If the destruction is not thorough, the establishment will not be thorough】

【However, this old man must still dash you with a word of cold water — today's old rites were once new rites. Perhaps a few hundred years from now, your path too will become the old ways, and will then need to be broken. For thousands of years, it has always been thus】

【This old man is not a foolishly loyal sort who dies for the old rites】

【I only wish to be the first to die for the establishment of new rites. After my death, the last shackles of the old rites can be completely broken. Young man, after this, I leave it to you】

Qu Hanxiu raised his hand and straightened the cap of the gentleman.

His expression was solemn and composed.

This old man shall have a great name for a thousand autumns!

Not a name that deceives the world and steals fame.

Nan Hanwen clutched that final letter, searched everywhere for the old man, sweat beading on his forehead, in a terrible state. But then he heard wails of grief, and the Fire Qilin army mobilizing. His face went pale, he realized something, rushed over, pushed through the crowd, and stood dazed.

An old man's corpse lay peacefully in the water.

White-haired, meticulous, dressed in a full set of old dynasty ceremonial robes.

Nan Hanwen stumbled and sat down on the ground.

Teacher of his first half of life, weaker than a state yet able to pacify the world — a radical, venomous strategist of the age.

A year later, both mentor and friend, a pedantic old scholar, stubborn, calm, indifferent.

"Boy, do you know what 'name' is?!"

Nan Hanwen gripped the letter, opened his mouth, but had no words.

The Red Emperor Ji Zichang died; Ji Yanzhong carried Ji Ning'er off a cliff; the entire bloodline of the Red Emperor's dynasty was severed. Qu Hanxiu submitted a memorial, and the posthumous name given was Lie ("Martyr").

"One who upholds virtue and reveres his enterprise is called Lie."

Though he was clearly the emperor at the moment the Red Emperor's bloodline was cut off, he nonetheless possessed the fierce posthumous title of "Revering Enterprise."

The head of the Ministry of Rites, the foremost scholar of rites under heaven, Qu Hanxiu, threw himself into the lake.

He had two letters — one to Nan Hanwen, one to the rest of the scholars of the realm. One spoke his true heart; the other claimed it was because the Red Emperor had been killed by traitors, dying for his country.

The old rites and laws collapsed, but this final act of power turned public opinion into a whirlpool.

All said the Ying Emperor was a rebel, and that Qin Wang was the rightful line.

Qin Wang's rites and laws, praised by Qu Hanxiu before his death, naturally gained legitimacy.

The death of one man alone could gather the great momentum of the realm — such was the power of rites and laws.

As written in his final letter.

He wished Qin Wang to campaign against the Ying Emperor, found a new dynasty, and proclaim himself emperor, so that his state would be the most legitimate.

Nan Hanwen submitted a memorial, and the posthumous name given was Wen Zhong ("Loyal and Cultured").

In that brief span of time, there were many changes, many lives and deaths; there was grandeur, there was valor, and there was composure — but in the end it was nothing more than one era lifting its curtain while another, without pause, came rolling in like waves, bringing impact and upheaval.

The times changed thus.

The collapse of the Red Emperor's eight-hundred-year order meant that every order of the past had crumbled — even the most basic order — and the whole situation grew somewhat chaotic. At this moment, two great events erupted completely, cleaving through this state of affairs like a sharp blade.

First, Jiang Wanxiang utterly overstepped the rites of the Son of Heaven and proclaimed himself emperor.

Second—

The Ying Emperor Jiang Wanxiang, the God of War Jiang Su.

Declared war without warning.

Led a million troops to campaign against Qin Wang Li Guanyi.

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