Chapter 30: The Hardest Kindness to Bear Is That of a Beauty (Part One)

Miss Wang was seated in the academy, her slender fingers gliding over the strings of the zither. The music drifted gently through the room, and Master Han, listening to its melodious strains, could not help but sigh inwardly.

Master Han had always considered himself a man seasoned by the vicissitudes of life, able to regard all matters with detachment. Yet even he found his heart ill at ease in that moment. The situation within Jiankang City was changing with every passing instant, and only after he found himself enmeshed in the turmoil did he realize how difficult it was to remain unperturbed.

But when his gaze fell upon Miss Wang, he saw her playing with perfect composure, each note of her zither as clear and steady as the next. The very qualities he took pride in seemed paltry before this graceful young lady. In admiring her steadfastness, how could he not feel a swell of emotion?

Miss Wang, ever self-possessed, stilled the strings at the sight of Master Han, halting the music. Casually, she asked, “Master, has Young Master Zhang not yet returned to the academy?”

At noon, soldiers guarding the city had reported that Zhang Chi had passed through Jiankang’s gates, yet as dusk approached he had still not arrived at the academy. It was for this reason that Miss Wang inquired.

“He has not yet come,” Master Han replied, shaking his head, then asked curiously, “Miss, with the city in such turmoil, you ask nothing of the broader situation and only about Young Master Zhang?”

Zhang Chi’s talent was undeniable, and even Master Han acknowledged it. Yet in times such as these, what use was a scholar with neither lineage nor backing? In truth, Master Han had begun to sense that Miss Wang held Zhang Chi in unusually high regard—perhaps even excessively so.

“The city is in chaos,” Miss Wang replied calmly, “so naturally, Young Master Zhang can do little to change it.”

“Forgive my candor, Miss, but though Young Master Zhang is highly learned, he is neither of noble birth nor skilled in arms. In these times, such a man possesses no means of self-preservation. However gifted in poetry and prose, it hardly merits such esteem.”

In an age ruled by powerful clans, an ordinary scholar—however erudite—could not sway the tides of politics. Thus Master Han’s bewilderment at Miss Wang’s regard for Zhang Chi.

At this, Miss Wang smiled and said, “Master Han, you are a man of vast learning, especially fond of the teachings of Zhuangzi. How can you have forgotten the value of the ‘usefulness of the useless’?”

“The usefulness of the useless?” Master Han pondered for a long while, but could not grasp its deeper meaning.

Miss Wang smiled and asked, “Then tell me, Master, in your view, who will still command the world’s stage ten years from now?”

Master Han thought for a moment, uncertain, then ventured, “Huan Xuan has endured in obscurity for many years, adept at appearing weak. Perhaps, in time, he will prevail?”

“Gentleness cannot be relied upon,” Miss Wang said, shaking her head with a faint smile. “Huan Xuan is deep and calculating, and surely will make his mark upon the world. But he wins men’s hearts with small favors, and cannot draw to himself those of resolute integrity. Even if he succeeds, his glory will be as brief as the blossoms at the end of spring—brilliant for a hundred days, and no more.”

Master Han, considering her words, tried again: “Wang Gong is a man of remarkable presence and upright character. The Northern Garrison he commands is undefeated in battle—perhaps he will be the one to dominate the world in ten years?”

“Rigidity breaks easily,” Miss Wang replied with another gentle shake of her head. “Wang Gong has charisma, but though he is upright, he is too lofty—like a tall tree in the forest, the first to be felled by the wind.”

“If gentleness cannot endure and strength is easily broken, who then can command storms in ten years’ time? Surely you do not mean Young Master Zhang?”

“How can you be so certain it will not be him?” Miss Wang asked with a smile.

“But Young Master Zhang, for all his talent, is not of noble birth,” Master Han protested. To strengthen his argument, he added: “During the chaos at the end of the Han, though many heroes arose, all who claimed the world were of noble lineage. Even Liu Bei, though poor, was a descendant of King Jing of Zhongshan—a member of the gentry. Guan Yu and Zhang Fei, though brave enough to face ten thousand, served only as his generals, and even Zhuge Liang, for all his strategies, was merely his minister.”

Miss Wang merely smiled in response, and Master Han continued, “In my view, only those of the great clans will achieve greatness ten years hence.”

“Times are changing,” Miss Wang replied with a laugh. “Though the aristocrats still hold power, it is the commoners who bear the brunt of warfare. Without their efforts, the barbarians would have long since overrun the Yangtze. The status of the common people will steadily rise, while the aristocratic clans decline.”

This, Master Han could not deny. The imperial forces were indeed composed largely of commoners, and many generals had risen from their ranks. Perhaps, as Miss Wang predicted, it would not be long before their status was fully recognized.

Having been persuaded by Miss Wang, Master Han was less surprised when she concluded, “Ten years from now, it will be a man of humble birth who commands the world.”

“And you, Miss?” Master Han could not imagine anyone more brilliant than Miss Wang herself; how could the world’s stage in ten years be without her?

“Me?” Miss Wang’s smile turned wistful. “It seems that in just two days, my wedding is to take place.”

Master Han was taken aback by the sudden shift in topic. After a pause, he said, “Your wedding draws near, Miss. You should return home soon and begin your preparations.”

“There may be no need,” Miss Wang said with a faint smile and a shake of her head. “This marriage may not come to pass at all—it may even end in enmity.”

…

By the time Zhang Chi reached the academy, dusk had already fallen. His long conversation with the old Daoist had given him some insight into the current situation in Jiankang, and he hurried to find Miss Wang.

In truth, he had no idea where she might be, but surely someone in the academy would know—at the very least, Master Han.

He had barely begun to explain his purpose when Master Han cut him off with a smile. “No need to search for Miss Wang—she has been here in the academy, waiting for you for hours.”

Zhang Chi let out a long breath of relief. The old Daoist’s account of the city’s peril had left him anxious, wondering whether Miss Wang was prepared for what was to come. “Please, take me to her at once.”

Master Han led the way to Miss Wang’s study. From within, the sound of the zither floated out—elegant and lingering, yet tinged with melancholy. Master Han nodded his chin, signaling for Zhang Chi to enter alone.

Zhang Chi smiled and pushed open the door. At that very moment, the music reached a soaring note and then stopped abruptly. Miss Wang stilled the strings and regarded Zhang Chi with a gentle smile, but said nothing.

All the worries that Zhang Chi had carried with him seemed, in that instant, superfluous. Looking at Miss Wang—so composed, so confident—he wondered what could possibly trouble her that she had not already anticipated.

She spoke first, smiling: “During these days as you served as adjutant in the new army, you must have had some remarkable encounters?”

“Nothing escapes your notice,” Zhang Chi replied with admiration. In his heart, Miss Wang was no less than a female Zhuge Liang. He then recounted everything—General Canghuai’s collusion with Wang Xun, the false accusation of banditry, and the ensuing military action against him.

To all this, Miss Wang showed not the slightest surprise.

“Miss Wang, your mind is a treasury of stratagems,” Zhang Chi said, “as though you always have everything within your grasp.”

“In truth, I knew you would face danger on this journey.”

“Oh?” Zhang Chi was genuinely surprised.

“The world is like a chessboard, but how many truly control the game? What’s more, the board in my hand is already a losing one. The Jin dynasty’s fate is all but sealed—the great dragon has no more life in it.” She shook her head. “You see me planning in public, but you do not know how many sighs escape me when I am alone.”

Zhang Chi, seeing her look so desolate, could not help but feel for her. She was, after all, just a woman, yet she bore the weight of the world’s affairs each day. Even the strongest woman has her moments of softness—how much more so one as gentle as Miss Wang.

“General Canghuai is the commander of the imperial guards in Jiankang, but he also holds another identity—he is a member of the Five Bushels of Rice Dao.” Here, Miss Wang paused, then shook her head. “There are some things, if I reveal them to you, you may resent me.”

Miss Wang fixed her gaze on Zhang Chi, her expression suddenly grave. Zhang Chi, feeling ill at ease, tried to sound casual. “Speak, and let me hear it.”

“I deliberately placed you in danger,” she said bluntly. “Wang Gong and Yin Zhongkan were raising troops. If, at that moment, the Five Bushels of Rice Dao had rebelled in Jiankang, the consequences would have been unimaginable. That is why, before the two armies could reach the city, I had to force Canghuai to rebel. Only then would I have a pretext to mobilize the Xie clan’s troops, seal the city, and keep Canghuai’s forces outside the walls—allowing me to control the situation within.”

“I see,” Zhang Chi nodded. “But what did I have to do with forcing Canghuai to rebel?”

“Because you were the bait,” Miss Wang replied evenly.

“How was I bait?” Zhang Chi asked, puzzled.

“Rumor has it that you are the Celestial Pivot. The Five Bushels of Rice Dao is raising a rebellion in that name—how could they allow another Celestial Pivot to exist? Canghuai was bound to eliminate you. But to kill an imperial adjutant—how is that different from open rebellion?” Though Miss Wang spoke lightly, her words concealed layers of calculation.

Zhang Chi suddenly felt like a chess piece, and though he understood her reasoning, he still felt a pang of resentment. “Do you think I am the Celestial Pivot? And if I am not, have you considered my safety?”

“In truth, I do not know if you are or not. I only know that if you die, then you are not.”

Miss Wang’s answer was so direct that Zhang Chi felt a surge of indescribable anger. “If you resent me, I have nothing to say,” Miss Wang sighed. “Given the present circumstances, I had no other choice. Your talent and integrity are unmatched, and I, Siyiao, truly admire you. If I were an ordinary woman, I would gladly spend my days with you—sharing wine and poetry, wandering among rivers and mountains. It would be better than exhausting myself with schemes in the court.”