The Song That Calls a Mountain
Seven days after being coldly turned away by Lord Pingyuan and Lord Jianxin, I finally put my plan into motion.
The past week had been the very definition of extreme frugality. I had reduced my meals from two careful portions a day to one, and despite the steadily dropping temperatures, I refused any heating, simply layering on more clothes instead. It wasn’t quite the Long March of hardship, but it was certainly grueling. Unlike the royal Yan cuisine that had tasted perfectly fine even to a modern palate, these poorly seasoned dishes were a daily torment to choke down. Still, that misery would end today. After tonight, either my situation would grow so wretched I couldn’t even afford this meager meal, or I would once again sit before lavish banquets like the ones I enjoyed before becoming a hostage. One or the other.
Maybe I should just bow my head to Zhao and continue living like this? Even if I could still eat, I would be surviving on scraps of favor, never truly tasting the food. No. I steeled my resolve and stepped out of my lodging.
I wore the same ornate silk robes I had brought from Yan, now hidden beneath plain commoner’s clothes. While Han Jing, dressed in my spare garments and accompanied by a page, drew the guards’ attention, I slipped away. Our prolonged frugal lifestyle had caused the watchers’ discipline to grow lax. Using the disguise and decoy, I easily shook them off and followed the route I had memorized to reach Lord Pingyuan’s residence.
As it happened, a banquet was underway at his estate tonight. I scaled the wall, and the sound of music and laughter drifted over. Although the catastrophic defeat at Changping had diminished Lord Pingyuan’s influence, many people still sought his favor. And now, I was one of them.
Yet the reception was ice-cold.
“I am Ji Dan, prince of Yan. I have come to see Lord Pingyuan. Please announce me.”
Despite my courteous words, the reply was pure contempt.
“Hah! Now even children come calling. Boy, Lord Pingyuan is not someone a little brat like you can casually summon.”
Ah. I’m still wearing the commoner’s clothes.
Realizing my mistake from nerves, I shed the shabby outer layer and spoke again.
“Did you not hear me? I am Ji Dan, prince of Yan.”
“E-eh? You… certainly look like the young master of some noble house… Do you truly claim to be the prince?”
“Announce me at once.”
“Y-yes! Right away!”
Clothing was the most immediate marker of status. The moment the expensive-looking silk was revealed, the gatekeeper bolted inside the mansion. When he returned, a middle-aged man who appeared to be a scholar accompanied him.
The middle-aged scholar looked at me and twisted the corner of his mouth in a subtle sneer. It lasted only an instant, but I didn’t miss it. And in that moment, I understood.
This man is not a genuine guest of Lord Pingyuan. He is one of Lord Jianxin’s planted pieces.
Knowing my identity, the scholar gave a slight nod but nothing more. He blocked the entrance and spoke flatly.
“Lord Pingyuan no longer receives guests. Prince, you should return.”
His firm tone made it perfectly clear: I will never let you inside.
“Is that truly Lord Pingyuan’s will?”
“…Of course.”
A brief staring contest. I was the first to yield.
“I understand your master’s intention.”
My meaningful words caused a flicker of unease on the scholar’s face. Struck a nerve, did I?
This much I had expected. Lord Jianxin would have prepared at least one obstacle. But I could not give up here.
As I moved away from the mansion gate, I felt the gaze on my back disappear. He couldn’t stay there forever and must have gone inside. After all, if I caused a scene trying to force my way in, the gatekeepers would handle it. Even if he came out after hearing the commotion, it would be too late. Besides, I had never intended to use such crude methods.
I walked along the wall of Lord Pingyuan’s estate and stopped where the sounds of the banquet were loudest. I took a deep breath.
What I was about to do was the boldest act of both my past and present lives.
My hands trembled. My heart pounded wildly, and cold sweat trickled down my back. Even when I was a university student majoring in business administration, I always let my groupmates handle presentations while I stuck to making PPTs and gathering data. And now that same person was about to put on a show in the middle of a busy street.
How could I not be nervous?
Still, I had no choice. Support from my home country was unlikely. I had swallowed my pride and gone in person, yet I couldn’t even meet King Zhao—only to be turned away by Lord Jianxin. If things continued like this, there was no guarantee I wouldn’t end up like the previous hostage from Qin. Would I slowly wither away, or would I cast aside the last scraps of pride and dignity and gamble everything?
If it were just me, maybe I could endure it. But I have people depending on me!
I had to do this. If I stood by foolishly, the damage would not stop with me alone.
With renewed determination, I drew in a deep breath. Staring directly at the mansion that had just rejected me, I unleashed the air filling my chest in one explosive cry.
Does Mount Tai rise once more?
Does the great pillar stand again?
Has the wise man returned?
§
Lord Pingyuan, Zhao Sheng, tilted his wine cup as the banquet songs filled the air. A burning rage simmered in his belly that no cold water could quench. Only alcohol could make him forget that heat, even if briefly.
Among the warring states, Zhao had always ranked among the strongest military powers. Although Qin now claimed the title of supreme state, unlike Han and Wei, Zhao had successfully halted Qin’s eastern advance through the efforts of Lin Xiangru, Lian Po, and Zhao She. The impregnable wall protecting the Central Plains from the tiger-and-wolf kingdom of Qin—that was how Lord Pingyuan had always viewed his homeland.
If Qin had Hangu Pass to guard its borders, then Zhao stood as the shield that prevented Qin from unleashing its ambitions upon the other states. As one of the four pillars supporting the late King Zhao Huiwen’s reign, this was a pride Lord Pingyuan would never trade for anything.
But that pride had crumbled.
Because of the Battle of Changping.
The greatest catastrophe in Zhao’s history, brought about by Lord Pingyuan’s own misjudgment. After that single failure, Zhao could no longer boast of being an impregnable military powerhouse capable of easily blocking Qin’s advance. It had fallen to a state that could barely defend itself by cooperating with Lord Xinling of Wei and Lord Chunshen of Chu.
It all felt like his fault. And in truth, the responsibility resting on Lord Pingyuan was far from small. Even when the capital Handan was under siege, he had drowned in self-reproach and self-loathing, drinking to numb the pain. He held banquets and blinded himself with luxury and pleasure. Had it not been for a minor retainer named Li Tan who woke him from his stupor, he might have simply watched his country fall while drunk.
Fortunately, Lord Pingyuan had regained his senses and accepted the duties still left to him. He led three thousand death-defying warriors in a daring raid on the Qin forces outside the city, buying precious time until reinforcements from the other states arrived. After overcoming the greatest crisis caused by the Changping defeat, he stepped down from office.
When a brief peace returned, Lord Pingyuan once again sank into regret. Military affairs could be left to Zhao’s great general Lian Po without worry, and Lord Jianxin was managing the position of Chancellor adequately. There was no longer any need for Lord Pingyuan to stand at the forefront.
Unlike Lian Po, Lord Jianxin had aspects that left him dissatisfied. Yet Lord Pingyuan feared that another mistake on his part would plunge the country into crisis once more. So he had let go of everything, seeking only the fleeting joy of banquets and the peace brought by intoxication.
Then, suddenly, a bizarre song reached his ears.
Does Mount Tai rise once more? Does the great pillar stand again? Has the wise man returned?
To an unknowing ear it might sound like some ominous prophecy, but Lord Pingyuan immediately realized it was directed at a specific person. And that person was none other than himself.
“Is that not a twist on the final verse of Ni Fu?”
Ni Fu was the honorific given to Confucius. The final verse referred to the death poem recited just before passing. Originally, Confucius was said to have sung, “Does Mount Tai crumble? Does the great pillar break? Is the wise man dying?” before closing his eyes.
People of later generations, accustomed to Confucius’s absolute authority, might find it surprising, but in this era his reputation was not particularly high. He was merely considered an outstanding scholar among the Hundred Schools of Thought, the founder of Confucianism. That was all. In fact, the Mohist school—which had nearly been buried as Confucianism rose—was currently the dominant philosophy of the age.
Add to that the Yangist school of Yang Zhu, which inherited the Daoism of Laozi and Zhuangzi, and the Legalist school that had risen to prominence in statecraft after Shang Yang’s reforms. These three schools currently dictated the trends of the world.
Given this reality, the leading figures of Confucianism often lamented the state of the times. Mencius criticized Mozi and Yang Zhu, while Xunzi pointed out the limitations of Legalism. Looking at Xunzi himself, who still lived in this era, one could understand the position of Confucianism. Xunzi was one of the greatest scholars alive, having served three times as head of the Jixia Academy. Yet despite his academic achievements and lasting influence on later Confucianism, his accomplishments in practical politics were modest.
Separate from their scholarly value, Confucian teachings simply did not resonate with people struggling through the harsh realities of the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods. Nevertheless, the fact that Lord Pingyuan knew Confucius’s death poem showed that his learning was considerable.
At his words, the retainers began offering their own opinions. Some flattered him, others angrily insisted the singer should be punished, while still others tried to interpret the true meaning. Various voices rose. A few remained silent, reading the room or organizing their thoughts. The man who had just turned away Ji Dan belonged to the latter group.
That voice definitely belongs to that brat.
He recognized the identity from the voice alone.
I thought he had given up, but he pulls a stunt like this.
He had been too complacent. A mere nine-year-old child. He had assumed that displaying appropriate pressure would make the boy realize his place and withdraw. Such boldness and initiative were hard to believe from a nine-year-old. Simply twisting Confucius’s death poem to spark interest showed he was no ordinary child. Someone must be teaching him from behind, but memorizing it and actually using it were two different matters.
Admiration was admiration. He remained faithful to his role. To thwart Ji Dan’s attempt to draw Lord Pingyuan’s attention, he quickly spoke up.
“Lord Pingyuan! How truly bizarre that someone would sing such an ominous song on this joyous day. Allow me to go out and give him a proper scolding!”
Before Lord Pingyuan could even grant permission, the man rose abruptly and tried to head outside. Yet he had taken only a few steps before he was forced to stop. Lord Pingyuan had raised his hand.
“Lord Pingyuan…?”
“Stay where you are. If someone is calling me in such a manner, there must be a reason. The fact that he chose such a noisy method suggests he could not reach me through ordinary means.”
Though he had resigned from the chancellorship and immersed himself in banquets, Lord Pingyuan’s insight had not dulled in the slightest. The moment their eyes met, the man felt as if his body had frozen. It was a gaze that seemed to say: I know you are Lord Jianxin’s pawn.
So this is Lord Pingyuan’s true caliber…!
With a single sweep of his gaze across the room, Lord Pingyuan silenced every retainer. Then he called out a name.
“Is Zou Yan present?”
The summoned individual stepped forward.
“Yes, Lord Pingyuan.”
“Would you go and bring that singer to me?”
“As you wish.”
Zou Yan. Among Lord Pingyuan’s many talented retainers, he was one of the most outstanding—an scholar of the Yin-Yang school. Since Zou Yan, who held a high position among the guests, had stepped forward, there was no room left for him to intervene. Even in this unfavorable situation, he tried to compose his expression. And he prayed desperately.
I hope the guards outside have dealt with him somehow…