The Man Behind the Screen
After a little more conversation, Ji Dan returned to Lord Pingyuan's chambers. Silence lingered for a moment before Lord Pingyuan spoke.
"You may come out now."
At his words, a figure emerged from behind the folding screen at Lord Pingyuan's back. The man possessed a sturdy build worthy of a general and a face marked by strong, unyielding lines. It was Mao Sui, the retainer in whom Lord Pingyuan placed the greatest trust.
When Handan had been besieged by Qin forces, Mao Sui had been the foremost contributor in securing reinforcements from Chu. He was the very man behind the sayings "the awl in the sack" and "Mao Sui recommends himself." Among all of Lord Pingyuan's retainers, none enjoyed greater confidence than he. Even among the famed guests of Pingyuan, he stood at the undisputed pinnacle. Before the siege of Handan, Mao Sui had remained utterly inconspicuous among the three thousand retainers. Yet with the achievement of forging the Coalition Army, he had risen to the forefront in a single leap.
This time as well, Lord Pingyuan had hidden Mao Sui behind the screen, intending to seek his counsel. In the end, however, Lord Pingyuan had rendered his judgment alone before Mao Sui could offer any advice. Perhaps that was why Mao Sui grumbled,
"At this rate, there was no point in my hiding behind the screen at all. If it was going to turn out this way, you might as well have left me at the banquet."
Though he was a retainer rather than a vassal, his tone was rather coarse. Lord Pingyuan merely laughed it off without the slightest offense.
"Hahaha. So you think I made the wrong decision?"
"No. You handled it splendidly."
Mao Sui had not been truly angry, so he straightened his posture at once. He recalled the boy who had been in the room moments ago. Though he had not seen the boy's face, the clear, resonant voice alone had conjured a vivid image in his mind.
"He truly did not seem nine years old. His claim of being compared to Xiang Tuo was no exaggeration."
At Mao Sui's assessment, Lord Pingyuan's eyes widened in surprise. It was the first time he had ever heard Mao Sui praise someone so readily. This was the same Mao Sui who had denounced even the nineteen elite retainers as parasites, and who had dismissed the King of Chu—despite the latter's harrowing experiences as a hostage in Qin and his dramatic escape—as little more than a child. Yet here he was, offering such high praise after hearing only a voice, without even seeing the boy's face. Even Lord Pingyuan, who had been swayed by Ji Dan's persuasion, had not anticipated this.
Still, Lord Pingyuan himself held no disagreement with the evaluation.
"Xiang Tuo, you say… Yes. If Xiang Tuo had truly existed, it would have been a fitting comparison."
"What do you mean by that?"
"The tale of Xiang Tuo is nothing more than a story fabricated by Ni Bu's disciples to exalt their teacher. Ni Bu was the sort of man who would listen even to the words of a child and strive to remedy his own shortcomings. What, then, of the kings, marquises, and generals of this world who refuse to heed Ni Bu's words?"
"Indeed. If the boy had been that brilliant, he should have made a name for himself afterward, yet no further tales exist. So that was the truth behind it."
"In contrast, that child is genuine. His talent is astonishing—his ideas, his decisiveness, his sense of responsibility. There is nothing lacking. If his military acumen proves equally outstanding, he may well become the second coming of the Young King of Qin."
Even if he never became a king, he possessed the makings of a figure whose renown would span the realm, like the Four Lords of the Warring States. Lord Pingyuan had seen it in Ji Dan. The eyes of one who harbored hope retained a brilliant inner light, even when gazing upon a darkened world. He himself had been the same in his youth. Though that light was now veiled by the dark clouds of Changping, how could he ever forget? It was a past both nostalgic and sorrowful.
"By the way, Mao Sui, are you not curious?"
"About what, my lord?"
"What must that child have seen and experienced to speak of Zhao's strength?"
As though the answer were obvious, Mao Sui replied at once.
"Would it not be General-in-Chief Lian Po? His martial fame is known throughout the Four Seas, not merely within Zhao."
"Hmm. I do not believe it is only that. Lian Po's abilities are indeed peerless, as I myself would attest, yet he is far too old for a child to worry over."
"Then what does my lord believe?"
"Ten years ago, the man who repelled the Xiongnu—does he still remain at Yanmen?"
The Xiongnu, the northern nomadic tribe that every state in the northern Central Plains found most troublesome. To confront them, the previous King of Zhao, King Wuling, had even adopted their clothing and mastered their horsemanship. Yet even beneath the might of King Wuling and his mounted archers in Hu attire—Zhao's golden age—the Xiongnu had not vanished. The seemingly endless, tiresome war with the Xiongnu had ended in a single, astonishing moment. By the hand of one man stationed at Yanmen.
"Ah… Surely not."
"If that boy judged Zhao's latent power after seeing him, then perhaps he possesses a talent even more remarkable than we imagined."
What future, then, lay ahead for that mysterious boy? Lord Pingyuan pondered carefully. Would he walk the royal path, becoming the fifth lord to stand against Qin, just as Lord Pingyuan and the other lords had done? Or would he tread the path of hegemony, seeking dominance in the northeast like the Young King of Yan?
"There is no cause for concern. Whichever path he chooses, that child will remain an ally of Zhao."
This was why Lord Pingyuan offered his patronage. He was confident he could make it so.
§
Upon arriving at our new lodgings, we all stood with mouths agape.
"This is… truly…"
"Whoa! So this is going to be our home from now on!"
It was a grand tiled-roof mansion, a world apart from the thatched huts we had occupied until now. Moreover, it came with no fewer than three separate annexes. It was hardly inferior even to the royal palace of Yan. Had Lord Pingyuan used it as a residence for his retainers before their numbers dwindled, leaving it vacant? The sheer wealth required to possess several such mansions was staggering.
Hearing the cheers erupting around me, I shrugged.
"Well, from now on, you won't have to worry about food or lodging."
At my firm assurance, the attendants' eyes welled with tears. Though a truce had been declared, Zhao remained a potential enemy state. Having endured poor treatment here, their fear of sudden calamity had been immense. The greater their anxiety, the deeper their relief. Watching them, I once again felt the weight of the responsibility I bore. These dozen or so people had endured solely by relying on me—not because I had bestowed any special favor, but merely because I had been born of royal blood. Their expectations and devotion filled me with both gratitude and burden. Yet this affair seemed to have lightened that burden somewhat.
If it's already like this, how heavy will it be when I become king…?
Without the memories of my past life, I might never have entertained such worries. I would have regarded the exercise of power as natural as breathing. But having failed to fully shed my modern sensibilities, I felt the weight of authority with stark clarity.
Those worries can wait. For now, let us savor this moment of joy.
There was no sense in remaining gloomy forever. I steadied my heart and ushered the attendants inside. Though our living quarters had suddenly expanded, the attendants—seasoned professionals who had served even in the Yan palace—immediately took up their respective duties. Their workload had doubled, yet their faces were filled with smiles. Seeing no place for me to intervene, I quietly stepped back.
"Ah, come to think of it…"
As I watched them quietly, a thought suddenly occurred to me. The golden-eyed child I had seen on the day I secured Lord Pingyuan's patronage. War orphans were common enough, but with eyes of that color, the child was likely quite well-known. I looked for Han Jing, thinking to ask about the boy. Yet the Han Jing who entered my sight seemed far too busy for casual conversation. As my tutor and the one managing our household affairs, he was bustling about to establish roots in our new home. Even so, he remained attentive to me; the moment I murmured—even a whisper too soft to be easily heard—he paused his work and turned toward me.
"Young Master? Did you call for me?"
"Huh? Ah, it's nothing. Go on with what you were doing."
Official duties took precedence over a simple curiosity of mine. Besides, now that we had regained our freedom of movement, if the child was famous, I would naturally learn of him while wandering Handan.
"I might as well step out for a bit."
Yes, that would be best. There was little for me to do in the mansion anyway—only moving my belongings to my room, and even that had already been handled by a maidservant. I would only get in the way if I stayed. Spotting a nearby attendant, I called out.
"Han Jing! I'm going to pay my respects to Lord Pingyuan!"
Though I claimed I was going to thank Lord Pingyuan, a part of me quietly hoped to meet that child again. Yet on that day, I did not encounter the child once more. Nor the next day, nor the day after. Meeting the child again would be a story for a little further in the future.