Who was President Gao?

Setting aside all other considerations, in terms of academic standing, reputation, and personal character combined, the only person in all of Dachu who might have been placed alongside him was the Master Yuming. After Master Yuming’s passing, President Gao’s prestige stood entirely alone. This was precisely why Prince Yu had been so eager to have the proclamation calling for the punishment of traitors written in President Gao’s own hand.

Fortunately Li Chi had managed to outmaneuver that scheme, and the proclamation had by now become widely known regardless, so whether or not President Gao wrote another made little material difference.

Rather than continuing to pressure President Gao, it was better to present a more magnanimous face. Prince Yu had other considerations as well: if he truly managed to take the capital and ascend to the throne, he intended to summon President Gao to the capital. Given the prestige President Gao commanded among the scholarly world, one word from him would bring countless men forward to serve the new Emperor.

Yet Prince Yu was not fully at ease, and so all this while he had not abandoned his search for Gao Xining — only by having Gao Xining in hand would he truly have President Gao in hand.

Prince Yu had asked countless times. President Gao said only that Gao Xining had gone to stay with relatives, relatives who lived far away in Yanzhou.

Prince Yu was in fact partly inclined to believe this. Before a great battle, sending one’s closest family to safety outside the city was a choice many people were making — not only President Gao. The distinguished families throughout the city were doing the same. They had no choice but to stand with Prince Yu, but they could not afford to place every bet on one side.

President Gao knew that Gao Xining was safe in the carriage company, and so these recent days had passed with tolerable peace of mind. All things considered, if there was anyone left in Jizhou City who would put their life on the line to protect Gao Xining, it could only be Li Chi.

And so President Gao carried a certain conflict within himself: he had no choice but to rely on Li Chi to protect his granddaughter, and yet he genuinely felt Li Chi was beneath her — though he felt that way about everyone, not Li Chi alone. He thought no one was worthy of her. Not even the Crown Prince would have been good enough.

At this moment, in the Sanyue River Pavilion.

President Gao examined and reexamined the Lingao Rubbing. No matter how he looked at it, the calligraphy appeared to be Master Songming’s authentic work. The question of the paper seemed, somehow, not to be a question at all.

“I cannot be entirely certain.”

President Gao looked toward Prince Yu and said, “This calligraphy — it should be authentic. Master Songming’s brushwork is above all characterized by an unrestrained freedom. The older he became, the more pronounced this quality grew, as though by his later years the act of writing had reached a state of complete unselfconsciousness — neither intention nor self remaining.”

Hearing this, Xiahou Zuo looked at Li Chi and asked: “When President Gao says Master Songming’s calligraphy was unrestrained, is he saying the same thing you just expressed rather more crudely?”

Li Chi asked: “Which crude remark?”

Xiahou Zuo had no wish to repeat it, so he rephrased: “What I mean is — when President Gao says Master Songming’s calligraphy grew increasingly unrestrained in his old age, is he essentially saying that it looks as though it was dashed off without effort? As in, in his youth he held a careful and earnest attitude toward writing and painting, but in his later years it all came effortlessly?”

Li Chi nodded. “That’s a fair way to put it.”

Xiahou Zuo murmured very quietly to himself: “So it genuinely is only by dashing things off carelessly that you get Master Songming’s quality…”

Li Chi had been too absorbed in listening to the voices below to catch what Xiahou Zuo said. He asked absently: “What did you say?”

Xiahou Zuo said, “I said — truly grand, truly vast — Master Songming was a knight-errant among men of letters. Grandest among the grand.”

Li Chi gave a sound of acknowledgment and went back to listening to President Gao.

President Gao said, “The only remaining possibility is that the calligraphy is Master Songming’s authentic work, and the paper alone has been recently replaced.”

He raised his eyes toward the figure standing at the second-floor railing — a tall, upright silhouette in a long robe, face covered by a gauze veil, features hidden.

Everything about this person’s bearing and manner suggested a man of deep learning. There is a saying: when the belly is full of books, it shows in the bearing.

Had Li Chi known that President Gao was looking at him this way, he would have understood immediately why President Gao also declared the calligraphy to be genuine. The explanation came down to one word: the old man’s eyes had simply failed him.

“Young friend.”

President Gao said, “Could you offer an explanation?”

Li Chi glanced back at Xiahou Zuo for help. Xiahou Zuo had stepped away from the doorway, out of the sightline of the hall below, and only Li Chi could be seen at the railing.

Xiahou Zuo smiled from inside the room. “Telling lies is what you’re good at — why are you looking at me? Just make it big. From what I’ve observed, the bigger you go, the more they believe you. The smaller you go, the more suspicious they get.”

Li Chi thought about what ‘big’ meant in this context.

A moment later, he let out a long breath and spoke with the air of a man burdened by concern for the realm.

“The calligraphy is indeed authentic — Master Songming’s genuine work. The reason I described it as a fake was that I felt it was wrong to subject Master Songming’s legacy to this kind of silver-and-gold transaction. No price, however high, could truly be worthy of Master Songming.”

The entire hall fell silent. The tone of these few words had elevated the whole affair.

But Li Chi felt this wasn’t big enough yet.

So he continued: “My original intention in auctioning Master Songming’s seal was to donate the entire proceeds to His Royal Highness Prince Yu.”

Xiahou Zuo covered his face.

Below, his father smiled.

Li Chi went on: “Dachu today is a land of wounds. You all know this, though we prefer not to speak of it directly. But we are all people of Chu. Every person of Chu carries the desire to save and restore the realm in their heart. Who in the world today can still save Dachu?”

He looked toward Prince Yu. “Only His Royal Highness Prince Yu!”

The smile on Prince Yu’s face was impossible to suppress.

Cui Tai, standing on the platform — a sharp and perceptive man — immediately began to applaud. This started a chain reaction: every person in the Sanyue River Pavilion followed suit, whether sincerely or not. In this situation, applauding was simply the right move.

Li Chi said, “Now as for why I described Master Songming’s calligraphy as fake — it’s because I genuinely did not wish to tarnish his name. If the world thought the pieces were forged, they would not feel I was trading Master Songming’s legacy for money. After all, a fake can only sell for two hundred taels.”

He said, “I am not a wealthy man. Everything I have, I spent collecting these scrolls and the seal. The proceeds from the seal I will present to His Royal Highness for use as military funds in his campaign against the traitors. As for the scrolls — those represent my livelihood. I will not conceal the truth: rice in Jizhou City is dear these days, and I can barely buy enough to feed myself.”

Xiahou Zuo murmured under his breath: “You can barely afford to buy a few tens of thousands of catties of rice.”

Li Chi glanced back at Xiahou Zuo. Xiahou Zuo immediately gave him a vigorous thumbs-up. “Magnificent. Truly magnificent.”

Li Chi turned back to the railing, pressed his hands together in a salute, and said, “So I ask only this of all of you — buy these scrolls as though they are forgeries. Please do not let it be known they are Master Songming’s genuine work. To announce it so would dishonor Master Songming’s integrity.”

Prince Yu clapped — again and again — until his palms were red.

He looked up at Li Chi and said, “Your integrity does you great honor, sir! Great honor indeed!”

Li Chi sighed. “Your Highness is too generous. I find I cannot remain in this hall any longer, for I feel I have failed Master Songming. With your permission, I will take my leave. As for the proceeds from the scrolls — I will trouble Master Cui to pass them along to a friend of mine.”

With that, Li Chi turned in an elaborate show of grief and wounded dignity and retreated into the private room.

Xiahou Zuo said, “What madness just came over you? The entire point of auctioning the seal was to keep it away from my father. And now you’ve just handed it to him directly.”

Li Chi said, “Do you think I had a choice? Your father moved too fast. You said your father and he showed up immediately — he left me no room to maneuver. Even if I’d gritted my teeth and pushed through the sale, if he’d asked me whether I was willing to serve the realm, what would I have said?”

He looked at Xiahou Zuo and asked: “Is your father capable of that?”

Xiahou Zuo thought it over and nodded. “He is.”

Li Chi said, “And there’s another thing — I have a brilliant plan for getting the seal back.”

Xiahou Zuo asked: “What plan?”

Li Chi said, “Watch what happens shortly. No matter who wins the seal in the auction, I’ve already set the tone high enough and framed the whole gesture grandly enough that whoever buys it will present it as a gift to your father. Your father receives this grand gift and rewards the giver — now tell me: is one seal more useful, or are the benefits your father bestows in return more useful?”

Xiahou Zuo thought this over carefully, then asked: “And the brilliant plan?”

Li Chi said earnestly: “Someone will give it to your father. You go back and ask him for it. If he won’t give it to you, demand it. Once you have it, bring it to me…”

Xiahou Zuo narrowed his eyes. “Oh…?”

Li Chi: “Brilliant or not?”

Xiahou Zuo lifted a foot and kicked Li Chi squarely in the backside.

Li Chi genuinely couldn’t linger at the Sanyue River Pavilion any longer. Being exposed here would look very bad indeed — and while Prince Yu would certainly have guessed it was him, the people below didn’t know, which was sufficient.

Li Chi’s performance had earned Prince Yu’s satisfaction, which meant the scrolls would sell at a favorable price. Even if Li Chi personally had nothing to do with it, Prince Yu had his own interests to consider — this was the sort of goodwill that flowed naturally. By giving up the seal, Li Chi would gain something in return.

To get something, you must first give something.

And so the only regret in Li Chi’s heart as he slipped out through the back door was the injustice done to Master Yuming, who had given him the piece as a parting gift. But so many things in life couldn’t go entirely as one wished.

At the very least, Li Chi didn’t yet have the power to shape Jizhou to his will.

Li Chi came out the back door and climbed into the waiting carriage. Yu Jiuling was seated up on the driver’s bench. “How did it go? What will we get for it?”

Li Chi said, “Hard to say. We need to leave now — Prince Yu arrived. If he recognizes me, things will get awkward.”

Yu Jiuling said, “Even if he doesn’t recognize you, he knows it was you.”

Li Chi said, “What I’m worried about is President Gao recognizing me. That would be awkward for me.”

—

Meanwhile, in the north — the Yun Hidden Mountain.

A party that had traveled a great distance came to a stop in a mountain valley. The leader of this group looked around at his surroundings, feeling an increasing sense of familiarity, as though he had some deep impression of this place, yet could not for a moment think of when he had been here — only that he felt he had left something behind somewhere in this valley.

He sat atop a wild boar that weighed no less than a thousand catties, thinking for a long while, unable to recall what it was he had left behind.

So he sat cross-legged on the boar’s back, raised both hands, and began drawing circles in the air above his head with his two index fingers.

His mouth muttered under his breath — click click click click, click… click.

After a moment, something seemed to chime inside his head. It came back to him.

He had once left behind a female disciple here.

The moment this occurred to him, this rider of wild boars immediately wheeled the animal around, reasoning that this was no place to linger — better to flee while he still could.

He had taken her as his disciple, and then she had wanted to sleep with him… and she had succeeded.

At that exact moment, a group of white-robed women dropped lightly from the trees on either side, the long swords in their hands leveled at the boar rider.

The man looked at these women — their ages ranging from thirties and forties down to sixteen or seventeen — and fell into contemplative silence.

His genetics could not possibly be this uniform. How could they all be girls?

Ah… female disciples were such a complication. It was because of incidents like this one that he had sworn off taking female disciples afterward.

After fleeing this place, he had drifted along to the Dachu capital, where he had encountered an exceptionally clever child and taken the boy as his student. He recalled remarking at the time that had they not met, that child was destined for a coward’s life.

—