The General's Intrigue
In the northern district of Handan, on the Hill of Faith, stood a grand mansion rivaling even the opulent residence of Lord Pingyuan—the largest private estate in the city—and second only to the royal palace of Dragon Terrace where the King of Zhao resided. At the very heart of this mansion lay the inner chambers, reserved exclusively for one woman. Despite the room’s considerable size, its furnishings were sparse, lending the space an austere, almost desolate air. Yet the moment one laid eyes upon the figure seated within, all such impressions vanished.
She filled the vast, empty chamber with an overwhelming presence. Legs crossed atop the desk, the woman—scarcely past her late twenties—studied a bamboo slip with the bearing of a battle-hardened general. In truth, she had been a general. Though that title no longer belonged to her, the aura she exuded remained undiminished, as sharp as when she had commanded a hundred thousand troops. If anything, time had refined her charisma, tempering its former intensity with a subtle grace that brought it closer to perfection. Even in this quiet seclusion, she radiated a dignity that inspired both awe and deep respect. How tragic, then, that such brilliance should fade in obscurity. She herself did not seem to mind, but to the retainers who watched over her, it was a bitter waste.
Still, she was not entirely ignorant of the world beyond these walls. Though she rarely ventured out, she kept her ears open to every report her retainers brought.
“They say Wei has formed an alliance with Zhao.”
“Hmm. Is that so?” Her reply was indifferent. She had already foreseen this development. While Ji Dan relied on knowledge of the future, she had pierced the currents of the world through insight alone. The retainer, expecting as much, continued without pause.
“But something rather interesting happened in the marketplace.”
“Oh?” This time her attention sharpened. Setting the bamboo slip aside, she turned her gaze fully upon him, eyes gleaming with interest. “Interesting enough for you to mention, Mo Gong?”
Mo Gong grinned, sensing his mistress’s curiosity. “Heh. Would you like to hear?”
“I would. Please.”
“I visited the gambling dens after a long absence. A young upstart named Nuo Gutian has the entire scene firmly in his grip.”
“Nuo Gutian… I think I’ve heard the name. Still, he’s merely occupying the place you left behind, isn’t he?”
“In matters of gambling alone, yes. The boy was never a true gambler to begin with—he’s a swordsman by trade.”
Mo Gong, by contrast, had been a professional gambler who had mastered every table in Handan. Though he had since retired to serve as her retainer, in his prime no one could match him. Nuo Gutian’s skill with blades and sleight of hand had allowed him to seize control of the vacated dens, yet even he could not compare to Mo Gong’s mastery of the games themselves. What truly impressed Mo Gong, however, was not Nuo Gutian’s gambling prowess but something far more remarkable.
“He’s been exchanging currency between Zhao and Wei. The technique was extraordinary.”
As Mo Gong described the money-changing scheme he had glimpsed, the woman’s eyes sparkled brighter still.
“Truly? How fascinating…”
“Shall we pay him a visit?”
She nodded without hesitation. “Of course.”
“Before that, perhaps you should hear the rest of the story.”
“There’s more?”
“Does it not strike you as odd? If Nuo Gutian’s abilities are truly this great, why has he stopped at dominating the gambling dens? He could easily have seized control of Handan’s entire underworld.”
“You have a point. But perhaps it was simply a flash of inspiration?”
“I thought so at first. His methods were certainly impressive. Yet a recent report changed my mind.”
“A report?”
“Information provided by Xue Gong.”
Xue Gong and Mo Gong were both her retainers and lifelong friends. While Mo Gong had ruled the gambling world, Xue Gong had controlled the liquor trade. Together they had once known every secret that flowed through Handan’s pleasure districts. Though retired, Xue Gong still gathered intelligence through his vast network of contacts.
“For Xue Gong to involve himself… What did he discover that made you reconsider?”
“He saw Nuo Gutian meeting someone in secret.”
The encounter had been pure luck. Nuo Gutian had taken every precaution to shake off pursuers and had nearly succeeded. Nearly. Even Ji Dan would not have expected the young swordsman to be discovered. Yet discovered he was, and the information reached Xue Gong, then Mo Gong.
“Who?” she pressed.
“A hostage sent from Yan.”
“A hostage from Yan? Surely not… Ji Dan?”
“Precisely.”
“He’s still only ten, isn’t he?”
“He’ll be eleven soon.”
“Then you’re saying the Prince of Yan orchestrated this entire affair?”
She knew of Ji Dan. How could she not? The boy had already been involved in three major incidents. Yet the currency scheme Mo Gong described seemed far too sophisticated for a child of that age—bold, intricate, and deeply attuned to the flow of wealth.
“What makes you so certain he is the mastermind?”
“After meeting Ji Dan, Nuo Gutian began spending portions of his profits. The evidence strongly suggests he was either following Ji Dan’s orders or at least consulting him on how the money should be used.”
Mo Gong was convinced: Ji Dan was the true architect, and Nuo Gutian merely his instrument.
If that is the case, when did the Prince of Yan begin planning all this? Perhaps his participation in the wrestling matches was never about distancing himself from Lord Pingyuan or recruiting Jing Ke, but about making contact with Nuo Gutian.
If so, the boy’s foresight was nothing short of astonishing.
“No wonder my brother-in-law defended him so fiercely. He truly recognized the boy’s talent.”
She had always believed her own judgment of people superior to her brother-in-law’s. After all, Lord Pingyuan had failed to see the true worth of Xue Gong and Mo Gong. When he suffered retaliation from Lord Changxin because of Ji Dan, she had assumed he had misjudged the boy once again. Yet this time, it seemed she had been wrong. Despite his flaws, her brother-in-law possessed genuine ability.
Of course, his prejudice toward birth and status clouds his vision. Still, his eye for talent is sound.
Unfortunately, even he had not been able to keep Ji Dan by his side. The rift between Ji Dan and Lord Pingyuan had formed over Ying Zheng, the Qin princess. Even for her—removed from the intrigues of Zhao’s court—approaching the girl would not be easy. If Ying Zheng had been a legitimate Qin princess and hostage, she would never have considered it. But as the illegitimate daughter of a discarded branch of the Qin royal family, a sliver of possibility remained.
Mo Gong, sensing her thoughts, offered reassurance. “If you wish to meet the Prince of Yan, there is no need to go out of your way.”
“Oh? Do you have a plan, Teacher Mo Gong?”
“It is hardly a plan. If you simply wait, he will come to you.”
“He will come of his own accord? Like when he sought my brother-in-law’s help?”
That was possible, but Mo Gong’s certainty stemmed from something more concrete—the destination of Nuo Gutian’s profits.
“After meeting Ji Dan, Nuo Gutian began distributing part of his earnings as travel money to those wishing to return to Wei.”
“Not merely because he profited from Wei’s presence, I assume.”
She understood the gesture for what it was: a subtle message directed at her. Ji Dan was signaling both his goodwill toward Wei’s refugees and his own usefulness to her and to Wei.
If that was his intention, it was quite successful, Prince of Yan.
And just as they predicted, Ji Dan came to her not long after.