Yu Cui cursed her name for the Nth time.
Yu Cui. This name looked vulgar, sounded depressing when pronounced, and she had no idea what her father was thinking when he chose it.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t protested to her father or thrown tantrums wanting to change her name, but her father simply wouldn’t allow it. Legend had it that their family was a branch descendant of Yu Ji, the concubine of the famous Xiang Yu, the Hegemon-King of Western Chu. In the Yu family, girls were actually forbidden from being named Yu Cui.
Because the character “Cui” split apart becomes “Yu” and “Zu”—meaning Xiang Yu’s death. This rule forbidding Yu family girls from being named Yu Cui was actually written in the family precepts.
This was the 21st century—no one took these family precepts seriously anymore. But Yu Cui’s father had gone further, insisting his daughter be named Yu Cui despite everything.
That unlucky girl was her.
Yu Cui squinted and helplessly put down the book about the Hegemon-King of Western Chu. Because she was surnamed Yu and given this name related to Xiang Yu, logically she should be very interested in that period of late Qin and early Han history. But for some reason, reading about this history always gave her headaches. Today’s history class happened to cover Xiang Yu—just hearing his name gave her a headache, and unable to stand that nagging history teacher, she had skipped class directly.
Damn it! All because of this stupid name her father gave her. And her father kept saying she was getting prettier, claiming she must have a special connection to the historical Yu Ji.
What connection!
The early winter sunlight had no warmth, only providing slight comfort when it touched her body. Yu Cui took a deep breath of the cold air, stretched lazily, and checked her wristwatch, feeling it was about time to head back.
Today wasn’t even a holiday—a girl her age wandering around outside at this time was obviously skipping school. Yu Cui had already received several disapproving looks from passersby, so she could only lower her head as much as possible, pretending not to notice.
“Plop!” Perhaps because she wasn’t looking where she was walking, she happened to see something fall to the ground. She crouched down to pick it up, discovering it was an exquisitely embroidered red silk pouch.
Yu Cui quickened her pace to catch up with the two people ahead, extending the pouch forward: “You dropped something.”
Yu Cui looked up to study these two men. The taller one wore fashionable glasses with brown-dyed hair, dressed in a black knee-length wool coat. He had a standard build and handsome features, like a model from a fashion magazine. Standing beside him was a slightly shorter man who, despite the cold winter day, wore only a thin black Zhongshan suit with a lifelike red dragon embroidered on his left chest. The dragon head bared its teeth toward his neck, its long body coiled around his waist, scales reflecting sunlight in rainbow colors so realistically beautiful it was mesmerizing.
The taller fashionable man chuckled: “Boss, I never expected you to carry a pouch like a woman!”
Yu Cui was attracted by that embroidered red dragon and hadn’t noticed what this man looked like. Only now did she look up at the man called “Boss”—pale complexion, soft black hair, indifferent phoenix eyes, with a flash of surprise crossing his gaze when he saw her.
Yu Cui blinked. Surprise? Had she seen wrong?
“Your name is Yu Cui?” the boss in the Zhongshan suit asked.
Yu Cui was startled, about to ask how he knew her name when she followed his gaze to discover her student ID still pinned to her chest. No wonder so many people had been staring at her… Yu Cui’s mouth twitched as she silently removed and hid the ID card. “Yes, I’m Yu Cui.”
The boss silently repeated her name several times, studying Yu Cui with those narrow, deep eyes before curving his lips in an inscrutable smile: “This pouch is fated to be with you—keep it.”
Fate and such things were the most annoying! Yu Cui really wanted to throw the pouch in his face. Though she couldn’t judge quality well, she could tell this pouch had soft material and exquisite embroidery—definitely not machine-made. She took a deep breath, suppressing her irritation, and stuffed the pouch directly into his hands before turning to leave.
These days there were many bad people—she wouldn’t casually talk to strangers.
“Wait.” He suddenly called out.
Yu Cui hadn’t intended to stop, but she found the boss beginning to call her name in that soul-summoning ethereal way that successfully raised goosebumps all over her body, so she had to stop.
“I’m the owner of a nearby antique shop called Dumb House,” the man said.
Yu Cui said nothing, watching as the boss poured something round, about the size of a watermelon seed, resembling a nut, from the pouch and handed it to her: “This is a poppy seed. It also has a connection with Miss Yu—consider this seed thanks for returning the pouch. You can find a flowerpot to plant it when you get home.”
Connection my foot! And what era was this, still calling people “Miss”? But it was just a seed—that should be acceptable.
Yu Cui had seen poppy flowers before—very similar to opium poppies but without that bewitching beauty. Instead they had a delicate, graceful, spiritual charm that was absolutely stunning.
Yu Cui held the seed, standing there dazed. When she came to her senses, the two men had walked far away, their conversation still drifting on the wind:
“Is that really a poppy seed? Nothing strange about it?”
“It’s a real poppy seed, just from over two thousand years ago.”
“…You’re really joking…”
“I never joke.”
Yu Cui woke up to find she couldn’t move.
This feeling wasn’t entirely unfamiliar—very much like when dreaming, being held down by sleep paralysis, or what people commonly called “ghost pressing on the body.” But ghost pressing wouldn’t make everything around completely dark where you couldn’t see anything, right? If it were a dream, there would always be a time to wake up, right?
Yu Cui waited quietly. After an unknown period, she began to feel thirsty. This thirst was different from normal thirst—before, when thirsty, she could still endure it, but now she felt as if she might die from dehydration.
Yu Cui called out anxiously, but discovered she couldn’t make any sound at all! If this were a dream, it was far too realistic.
Yu Cui wanted to move her hands and feet, but found no response whatsoever, as if tightly surrounded by something, unable to move at all.
What was happening? Yu Cui wondered gloomily. Yesterday after skipping class and returning home, while taking off her coat, that poppy seed had fallen out and she had casually buried it in the tiger tail plant’s pot in the entryway. After that… after that she seemed to have done the usual things—reading, homework, internet, washing, sleeping. When she regained consciousness, she had become like this.
Just as Yu Cui was puzzling over this while dying of thirst, she suddenly felt a stream of cool water pouring over her head, immediately refreshing her entire being. She wanted to open her mouth to drink, but discovered her whole body was absorbing the water, quickly relieving her near-fatal thirst.
What had happened to her? Even someone as slow as Yu Cui realized she wasn’t dreaming—this dream would be far too bizarre.
“Drink more water and sprout quickly!” A young, gentle male voice suddenly appeared, startling Yu Cui.
Sprout? Sprout! Sprout sprout sprout… This voice echoed in Yu Cui’s brain like a broken record, directly causing her mind to crash.
No wonder she was tightly surrounded by dark things—she was simply buried in soil! No wonder she was dying of thirst—it was the need to sprout!
Had she become a seed?! Yu Cui completely lost it…
People always submit to fate eventually. Yu Cui deeply understood this point. On the third day of being a seed, she finally accepted her fate and decided to be a good seed.
Because she was buried in soil, she could occasionally detect threads of light through gaps in the earth, using this to judge day and night cycles. She knew the man watering her lived with his uncle, who called him Ji. Ji was probably in his teens, about the same age as her. Oh, to be precise, about the same age as her previous life.
Yu Cui believed she had died, which was why she was reincarnated as a seed. But she couldn’t ignore the strange aspects—for instance, why had that antique shop owner just given her a seed, and that very night she became a seed? She remembered the owner saying he’d given her a poppy seed, so she might now be a poppy seed too?
Yu Cui didn’t know whether to be happy, since poppies were only annual herbaceous plants—meaning her plant career would last only one year. If she could endure it, perhaps next life the King of Hell would arrange a more reliable reincarnation.
So she settled into being a seed. Ji watered her punctually every day. While she boredly waited to die, she could listen to the dialogue theater between Ji and his uncle for entertainment, like now—
“Ji, uncle has hired a teacher for you to learn calligraphy and poetry. You’ll start classes tomorrow,” the uncle said seriously. Actually, Yu Cui heard this in half-classical Chinese, which she directly translated into vernacular in her mind. She seriously suspected she hadn’t just become a seed but had also traveled back to ancient times.
“Yes,” Ji agreed gently.
“How can a man speak so mildly? You need to be forceful!” Uncle roared disapprovingly.
“Yes!” Ji also tried copying uncle’s tone.
Uncle seemed satisfied and changed topics: “Ji, you’re not young anymore. How can you act like a girl, always fiddling with flowers and plants? What kind of behavior is this?”
Ji said nothing. Yu Cui immediately felt a strong sense of crisis—surely this uncle wasn’t thinking of encouraging Ji to pull her up? Though a seed’s fate was miserable, she didn’t want to die immediately! Without Ji watering her daily, she’d die of thirst instantly!
Fortunately uncle said nothing more, but within days, uncle was in a rage because Ji not only refused to learn calligraphy and poetry, but also wouldn’t learn martial arts when uncle hired someone to teach him.
Uncle threatened to smash all the flowerpots in his room. Yu Cui felt her body swaying, knowing she was probably being held in Ji’s arms.
“Learning literature only helps you remember names, learning martial arts only lets you fight a hundred men. If Ji learns anything, let it be how to defeat ten thousand enemies!” he suddenly declared. Yu Cui was stunned—this phrase sounded very familiar, though she couldn’t remember where she’d seen it.
Uncle was naturally delighted and began personally teaching Ji military strategy at home. Yu Cui was forced to listen in, but it was so boring that all the watching flowers and plants became dispirited—peonies, tree peonies, and golden thread chrysanthemums all expressed their inability to cope. Ji also found it unacceptable and refused to continue learning after a few days. Uncle flew into a rage, cursing Ji as rotten wood that couldn’t be carved, and completely gave up.
Ji was happy to have leisure time, beginning to tend his flowers and plants leisurely, rarely leaving home. From Yu Cui’s perspective, he was undoubtedly an excellent ancient shut-in!
Freed from ancient military strategy classes, Yu Cui continued mixing and waiting to die in the soil, drowsily passing long days.
Having transmigrated into a seed, Yu Cui didn’t know what else she could do. Every day she did nothing but sleep and drink water. Though studying had been hard before, she still missed having a body she could move freely and a mouth that could speak freely.
“Ji! You nearly caused great trouble today, you know!” Uncle burst in and started ranting.
Yu Cui immediately perked up—the daily theater was starting! This uncle-nephew interaction was her spiritual food for passing boring time! Though she couldn’t see their expressions, listening to this radio drama was better than nothing!
“What about the King of Qin? I could take his place,” Ji said indifferently. “Uncle, don’t you always say ‘Though Chu has only three households, whoever destroys Qin will be Chu’? As Chu descendants, isn’t it right for us to think this way?”
“King of Qin? Ying Zheng has proclaimed himself First Emperor—he’s no longer simply King of Qin,” Uncle said stiffly. “You… Sigh! Don’t say such things outside anymore.” Yu Cui was stunned, only now realizing what era she’d reached—actually the Qin Dynasty!
Ji remained silent.
“Well, you’ll be twenty soon. Have you chosen a courtesy name?” Uncle sighed.
“I have. My courtesy name is Yu,” Ji said indifferently.
“Good. Xiang Ji, courtesy name Yu—Xiang Yu. After coming of age, we’ll call you Xiang Yu. Good, good.” Uncle repeatedly said “good.”
Yu Cui was completely speechless. Xiang Yu? The always dazed, awkward shut-in who’d been watering her was actually Xiang Yu? No one had told her Xiang Yu’s given name was actually Ji, and Yu was his courtesy name! Yu Cui’s scalp tingled with shock, regretting skipping that history class—otherwise she should have guessed long ago.
While she was still reeling from shock, she heard uncle say coldly: “You’re about to come of age—give up those flower-tending habits. Especially that pot—” Yu Cui knew without looking that uncle was pointing at her. “Yes! The one in your hands! Hiding it behind your back won’t help! You’ve been watering it for three years without it sprouting—the seed inside must be dead!”
First she had died and come to the unfamiliar Qin Dynasty, then discovered her careful cultivator was the Xiang Yu who was “fated” to be with her, and finally faced abandonment even as a flower… One blow after another…
Yu Cui collapsed, only now realizing that since arriving in this world, she hadn’t been a qualified seed.
Yu Cui began self-reflection. Right—a qualified seed should try hard to sprout!
Don’t abandon me! She would work hard to sprout! Yu Cui silently cried out.
Regarding uncle’s command, Xiang Yu neither opposed nor agreed, continuing to water Yu Cui daily.
Yu Cui deeply admired Xiang Yu’s revolutionary spirit. In her position, she absolutely couldn’t water a seed daily for three years—she didn’t know why Xiang Yu was so persistent. But to prevent him from abandoning her, Yu Cui tried hard to break through the soil. However, having been a seed for only three years, she had no idea how to sprout.
After Xiang Yu vowed to take the First Emperor’s place, he daily practiced martial arts and studied military strategy diligently. Yu Cui knew how determined this man was—just seeing him persist in watering her daily without fail showed that once he decided on something, he could persist to the end.
When uncle taught him before, he hadn’t recognized the usefulness of that knowledge, so he was unwilling to learn. But now, with a lofty goal, he naturally began working hard.
Yu Cui also had a new goal: sprout, sprout, and sprout again!
…But several more months passed with no progress whatsoever. Most annoyingly, this blockhead Xiang Yu completely failed to understand her plaintive feelings! Every day he would just mutter to the flowerpot—
“Today while practicing swordsmanship in the garden, I accidentally tripped on a stone. Fortunately uncle didn’t see.”
…Ghost! All the flowers and plants in the garden saw!
“Today I thought of a new formation, but teacher said I was fantasizing… Shall I draw it for you to see?”
…Ghost! I haven’t even grown out yet—what am I supposed to see! Hey! Don’t draw randomly in the soil above my head!
“Why haven’t you grown yet? Is the spring water not good enough?”
…You’re drowning me with all that daily watering!
“Why haven’t you grown yet? Is the fertilizer not good enough?”
…How would I know! I want to grow quickly too!
“It’s alright, I’ll keep waiting for you.”
…Now even Yu Cui had no complaints.
She couldn’t help wondering if the seed she’d possessed had actually died? But doubts aside, Yu Cui still drank water and slept daily, silently critiquing Xiang Yu’s monologues and listening to his daily theater with uncle. Her little life was quite comfortable.
After another four years like this, Yu Cui suddenly discovered that one day, Xiang Yu didn’t come to water her. She was so thirsty that her whole body felt wrong. Yu Cui didn’t know where Xiang Yu had gone—she knew she hadn’t moved position and hadn’t been abandoned, so he simply hadn’t returned.
Where the hell had that guy gone? Yu Cui had vaguely heard about Chen Sheng and Wu Guang’s uprising, but she hadn’t paid attention to what Xiang Yu specifically planned to do. She realized she was too accustomed to his companionship, always thinking he wouldn’t abandon her, always feeling he cared about her, though she hadn’t sprouted for seven whole years.
One day, two days, three days… Yu Cui didn’t know how she endured it. The soil in the flowerpot had completely cracked, yet she struggled upward through the soil gaps.
After an unknown number of days, she suddenly felt brightness before her eyes. Long-missed sunlight warmed her body. Though she had no eyes, she suddenly saw him bursting through the door in the sunlight.
His figure was straight as a mountain, his appearance heroically unmatched, his bearing extraordinary. The tiger-head coiled dragon halberd in his hand still dripped with fresh blood, falling drop by drop to the ground, spreading in the dust. Blinding sunlight reflected off his blood-stained black-gold armor, creating dizzying brilliance.
In his extremely delighted eyes, she saw herself.
A small green sprout.
In the first year of the Second Emperor, 209 BC, Chen Sheng and Wu Guang raised their arms in Daze Township, beginning their uprising. Xiang Yu accompanied his uncle Xiang Liang in Wu County, assassinating Governor Yin Tong and raising troops in response.
In this battle, Xiang Yu single-handedly killed nearly a hundred of Yin Tong’s guards, first displaying his unparalleled martial prowess.
Xiang Yu was exactly twenty-four years old at the time.
Successfully growing from a seed into a small sprout, Yu Cui finally felt vindicated. Not only had she cleared her name of never sprouting, she was delighted to discover that when Xiang Yu touched the flowerpot, they could communicate telepathically. Apart from initial surprise, Xiang Yu quickly adapted to the miraculous phenomenon that the seed he’d watered for seven years could actually understand human speech.
The Taoist who had originally given him this seed had said this seed was different from others—it needed heartfelt care to grow the most beautiful flowers. Even Xiang Yu himself hadn’t expected that planting it would take seven years.
Tch, Yu Cui was extremely annoyed hearing this. What heartfelt care—she had sprouted purely because she couldn’t stand him anymore. Otherwise, with such daily watering, she would definitely have rotted in the soil and never sprouted.
Having been silent for seven years with no one to talk to, Yu Cui immediately poured out her life story like spilled beans upon discovering Xiang Yu could hear her voice.
“You’re saying… you were originally human?” Xiang Yu was also somewhat dizzy.
Yu Cui nodded vigorously. But since her body couldn’t move, she could only wave her newly grown little leaves.
“Then…” Xiang Yu didn’t know what to do either. After struggling for a long time, he found his voice: “Then… what should I call you, miss?”
“My surname is Yu…” Yu Cui suddenly cut herself off, remembering the curse about her name.
Cui meaning Yu’s death—Xiang Yu’s death. Though this interpretation was absurd, she had already transmigrated into a flower planted by Xiang Yu—what couldn’t happen now?
Yu Cui’s pause made Xiang Yu misunderstand, thinking young ladies’ personal names couldn’t be casually known by men. He thoughtfully continued: “Since you’re surnamed Yu, I’ll call you Yu Ji!”
Yu Ji? Yu Ji! Yu Ji Yu Ji Yu Ji… Yu Cui’s head buzzed, her mind going completely blank. She had felt something was wrong—that there was no beautiful Yu Ji beside this Xiang Yu!
Though Yu Cui didn’t understand Xiang Yu’s life in detail, she had heard her nagging father mention several times that legend said the Hegemon-King Xiang Yu and Yu Ji had fallen in love at first sight in their youth, after which Yu Ji devotedly followed Xiang Yu through his military campaigns…
“Yu Ji, uncle has established King Huai of Chu, Xiong Xin, and has become the Wuxin Army commander. From now on I’ll follow him to war! Don’t worry, I’ll take you along—I want to see what kind of flower you’ll become!” Xiang Yu laughed heartily, his tone no longer the gentle one of his youth but mixed with a fierce, invincible military edge.
What what! Yu Cui saw herself transferred to a clay pot and held in Xiang Yu’s arms as he mounted a completely black horse with only white hooves.
“Xiang Yu, how can you take that flowerpot to battle!” Uncle beside him was exasperated.
“Uncle, this is Yu Ji,” Xiang Yu seriously introduced her to uncle.
“Haha! Naming a pot of flowers with a woman’s name—is it actually a poppy?” Uncle mocked mercilessly.
“Mm, this flower is indeed called poppy,” Xiang Yu recalled the name Yu Cui had told him. The wind from Jiangdong made Yu Cui’s fragile little body sway precariously. If she could cry, she really wanted to shed tears in the wind.
So this was the truth of history—why Yu Ji was called Poppy, why poppy was a flower name, why Yu Ji as a woman could follow Xiang Yu everywhere in battle…
Because… because Yu Ji was actually a flower!
More tragically, Yu Cui discovered she seemed to be that unlucky flower…
“Yu Ji, uncle wants me to become a general. I’m so afraid I can’t lead troops well. When I fight alone I know what to do, but how do I command thousands of men?”
“What’s to fear? Just charge forward! When you charge, won’t the soldiers behind you follow?”
Xiang Yu understood, and from then on fought with extraordinary bravery, always charging first into enemy formations. His tiger-head coiled dragon halberd was unstoppable—no one could match him. Soon he was promoted to general.
“Yu Ji, uncle wants me to give speeches before battle, but I’m afraid of speaking in front of crowds. I’m scared I’ll forget my words…”
“What’s to fear? Just imagine everyone below as big radishes. Besides, didn’t uncle write the speech for you? Just copy it on your palm! Ah? You say your palms sweat easily? Then speak less—use presence! Use your gaze! Overwhelm them with your eyes!”
Xiang Yu understood, and from then on spoke little in public. Just standing there in his black-gold armor and tiger-skin red war cloak, his imposing presence would make thousands of soldiers immediately quiet.
As long as he simply gave an order, as long as he glanced with indifferent eyes, absolutely no one dared voice opposition.
In others’ eyes, Xiang Yu increasingly resembled a true general, but in Yu Cui’s eyes, he remained that man who chattered before her flowerpot—big, awkward, silly, yet somewhat lovable. Basically a large dog who liked to ramble. He would show fierce teeth and sharp claws to enemies, but sitting before her, he’d return to gentle tones, still the youth who had talked to himself years ago.
Yu Cui’s flowerpot was also changed to a beautiful clay pot painted with gorgeous patterns that Xiang Yu had specially selected from war spoils.
Perhaps having slept in soil for seven years, Yu Cui found herself growing quickly after breaking ground.
Of course, this was relative to her seven years of not sprouting—compared to ordinary plants, she still grew slowly. After most of a year, she finally budded.
That day the sunlight was lovely, the wind warm against her. Xiang Yu brought a bronze mirror to show her appearance—an oval bud wrapped in two green-edged sepals, the cute, full flower head hanging from a slender, upright stem. In Xiang Yu’s words, she looked exactly like a young maiden lost in thought, gracefully standing.
Yu Cui was satisfied with her appearance, but Xiang Yu held the bronze mirror hesitantly: “Yu Ji, don’t bloom too early. If you finish flowering, will you leave me?”
Yu Cui was stunned. She actually felt life as a flower was meaningless—just waiting to die. Originally wanting to end this life quickly for early reincarnation, but seeing Xiang Yu’s pleading gaze, she hesitated.
This outwardly tough but inwardly tender man—without her, he probably couldn’t persevere, right?
“Yu Ji, stay by my side!”
Fine, fine—she’d accept her fate as his confidante sister. Yu Cui’s drooping bud nodded twice gently.
Her entire world now was this lush little garden—abundant sunlight, air filled with fresh floral scents, and Xiang Yu. Everything was too beautiful, too peaceful.
In this moment, she completely forgot history’s cruelty.
At the Battle of Dingtao, Xiang Liang died.
That night, Xiang Yu received the news from messenger soldiers. In his tent, he held Yu Cui’s flowerpot, crying silently.
“Yu Ji, uncle… he… died…”
Yu Cui remained silent, unable to say a single consoling word.
She knew that for Xiang Yu, uncle was equivalent to his father. She had been with them so many years, watching them argue, reconcile, argue again, reconcile again. Uncle, both stern and kind, treated Xiang Yu as both strict father and loving mother—essentially raising him single-handedly.
That old man who always threatened to uproot her but never actually acted; that old man who was always so angry at Xiang Yu he’d blow his beard and glare; that old man who would stroke his beard laughing when happy; that old man who would pat Xiang Yu’s shoulder encouragingly after victories…
That serious old man with graying whiskers—was he really gone? Never to be seen again? When Yu Cui realized this, an indescribable sourness welled up inside.
Xiang Yu’s tears seeped through the soil into her root system without missing a drop. His sorrow and unwillingness transmitted entirely to her heart. She wept with him.
“Xiang Yu, what was uncle’s wish?” she asked.
“Destroy Qin!” Xiang Yu said grimly.
“Then fulfill his wish!” she heard herself say.
Xiang Yu said nothing more but clenched his fists.
That night, Xiang Yu completely matured, transforming from a naive youth who loved tending flowers into the terrifying Hegemon-King of Western Chu. That night, watered by Xiang Yu’s tears, Yu Cui finally bloomed.
The two sepals wrapping the bud fell away like a maiden shedding old clothes to reveal red garments beneath. Her formerly shy, bent body straightened, raised petals thin as cicada wings, bright as red lips, smooth as silk.
Elegant and gorgeous coexisted. It was impossible to imagine such magnificent, beautiful flowers could bloom from a seemingly roadside-grass-like delicate stem.
The next day, Yu Cui saw the soldier who had brought news of Xiang Liang’s death.
That familiar face, those distinctive phoenix eyes, that indifferent expression—clearly the Dumb House owner! Just not wearing that red dragon-embroidered Zhongshan suit!
Yu Cui shared her suspicions with Xiang Yu, who reluctantly let the soldier touch the flowerpot. But though Yu Cui talked herself hoarse, the other party looked bewildered, not understanding why the general had him hold a flowerpot.
The signal wasn’t connecting! Damn telecommunications!
Yu Cui was more depressed—so only Xiang Yu could hear her?
Xiang Yu was happier—so only he knew Yu Ji’s secret.
Xiang Yu kept this soldier as a halberd-bearing guard. The man said his name was Han Xin.
Yu Cui’s mouth twitched—why did this name sound so familiar? Yu Cui again regretted skipping that history class.
In the second year of the Second Emperor, Xiang Yu led troops to capture Xianyang, reaching Yongqiu where he fought fiercely with Qin’s Sanchuan Commandery Governor Li You. Xiang Yu killed Li You among ten thousand troops, routing the Qin army.
That same year, Xiang Yu led troops to rescue Zhao, breaking cauldrons and sinking boats, crushing the Qin army.
In December that year, Xiang Yu led 100,000 Chu troops to defeat 400,000 Qin troops at Julu in the famous Battle of Julu.
Xiang Yu became famous in one battle.
Historical records state: “Every Chu warrior fought one against ten. Chu battle cries shook the heavens—not one among the allied forces wasn’t trembling with fear.”
Yu Cui watched Xiang Yu step by step become the historical Hegemon-King of Western Chu, yet felt the youth she knew was gradually walking away. She saw him less and less, spoke with him less each day.
Fortunately he still remembered to water her daily—even in the harshest, most water-scarce times, he never forgot.
Gradually, she didn’t know when it started, he stopped touching her flowerpot, always watching her from afar with vast, distant eyes, as if seeing a simple flower.
She didn’t know what she could do except try to maintain her blooming appearance, letting him glance at her when anxious and lost.
When he stationed troops in Xianyang, she heard he burned Efang Palace and killed many people. She wanted to find a chance to advise him, but unfortunately he never appeared.
Efang Palace burned for seven days and nights. Even the air was filled with smoke she couldn’t accept. Watching those towering flames, hearing distant mournful cries, she felt trapped in hell.
Finally he brought back an exquisite flowerpot carved from a single piece of jade and transplanted her into it. Though this jade pot looked magnificent, she felt it unbearably cold.
“Yu Ji, uncle’s revenge is complete. Let’s go home now.” He stroked her soft petals gently, yet couldn’t hide the murderous aura he’d absorbed from battlefields.
She said nothing, her blood-red petals trembling.
Soon, Xiang Yu’s halberd guard changed. Han Xin abandoned Chu for Han, seeking Liu Bang.
Before, Yu Cui had heard Xiang Yu speak of his dreams. Then he had held her sitting in sunlight, surrounded by flowers and plants, everything green and lush.
Xiang Yu’s dream was actually very simple—he only wanted good farmland where he could grow vegetables, be self-sufficient and content.
But as Chu nobility’s descendant, uncle wouldn’t allow such peasant thinking, forcing him to study literature and martial arts, to shoulder responsibility. Now having avenged uncle and destroyed Qin, Xiang Yu began missing home.
Guanzhong’s soil was incomparably fertile and rich for thousands of li. Xianyang’s palaces were magnificent with countless beauties, but Xiang Yu felt no attachment. Even if he sat on that throne, what then?
Xiang Yu knew he wasn’t emperor material—he was only a general, lacking such ambition. After years of battlefield killing, soaked in unwashable blood, he only wanted to find somewhere to repent his sins and quietly live out his days with his Yu Ji.
Though his Yu Ji was only a flower, though he knew she disapproved of his recent changes, he had no choice but to change. On battlefields, through countless harsh lessons, he learned that mercy to enemies was cruelty to himself. Only complete annihilation could better protect himself.
Uncle was dead, few of his original soldiers remained. Everyone feared his brutality, saying he was too cruel. Only Yu Cui knew he had always been tender-hearted. Someone who could carefully tend a seed that wouldn’t sprout for seven years—how could he be cold and heartless?
Fortunately, she was still beside him. Just watching her swaying petals brought peace to his soul, instantly smoothing the emptiness after bloody battles.
But he discovered it wasn’t so easy to withdraw. No one would easily let him go—neither subordinates nor enemies.
That soldier who once bore his halberd seemed not to have aged at all, now titled General, facing him at Gaixia.
Han Xin’s 300,000 troops against his 100,000.
Open field battle—no rivers, no passes, no fancy tactics.
This was the first battlefield confrontation between two contemporary military geniuses, and the last.
He lost—lost for the first time.
Surrounded by Chu songs on all sides, he faced her in silence. He stroked her lustrous petals, so gently he dared not use force. His hands had gripped swords, killed people, set fires. But in his original dreams, he only wanted to hold a hoe, farming and tending flowers.
“Yu Ji, what will you do after I die?” He wasn’t afraid of death—having killed so many, with so much blood on his hands, death was fitting.
But what about her?
He knew she was a very special flower—seven years in soil before sprouting, blooming seven years without withering, still as brilliantly beautiful as that first night.
“Fool, if you die, I’ll go with you.” He heard her say this, her voice thin and gentle. “Anyway, no one else will patiently water me daily like you. Sooner or later I’ll die too.”
“Good.” His heart was very joyful.
She whispered again: “This flowerpot is too heavy—just pick me and carry me with you…”
He carefully broke her stem at the waist, then pinned her to his chest.
He chose 800 men, breaking through southward in the night. He wanted to return home—legend said a person could only find eternal peace by returning to native soil after death.
But when he reached the Wu River, Han troops surrounded him. Across the river lay his homeland, where he was born. But he could never return.
Finally looking down at her on his chest—already broken and battered, once-bright petals withered and damaged. He suddenly had the illusion he would never hear her speak again. Using his last strength, he planted her in the earth.
He still didn’t want her to die. Though unable to take her home, he wouldn’t let her accompany him on this final journey. She was so bright and radiant—he had no right to steal her brilliance.
“Yu Ji, Yu Ji, can you tell me your name?”
“…I… I’m called Yu Cui… meaning Yu’s death…”
“Cui? Good name, Yu’s death… Yu Ji, finally, let me water you with my blood…”
In 202 BC, Xiang Yu, Hegemon-King of Western Chu, committed suicide at Wu River.
One year later.
“I heard this is where Xiang Yu killed himself?” an armored figure asked indifferently.
“Yes, General Han. Xiang Yu died right here. I personally saw him plant a flower before dying. The way he cared for it was like treating a lover—truly moving.”
“Do you remember where he planted that flower?” the person continued asking.
The soldier looked at the endless sea of flowers, speechless. The former battlefield had become a flower sea. Originally delicate, graceful, spiritual red flowers now formed an expanse red as blood, with indescribable tragic beauty.
“I remember Xiang Yu’s tiger-head coiled dragon halberd was never collected—it should be around here…” The soldier thought the general sought that halberd, having heard this famous general once served as halberd-bearer for Xiang Yu.
The person walked through the flower sea, stopping somewhere. He bent down, parting dense flowers to reveal the halberd beneath. Much of the blue shaft was buried in earth. Strangely, this general didn’t pick up the halberd but instead took a seed beside it.
“General, what kind of person was Xiang Yu?” Seeing the general contemplating a seed, the soldier boldly asked.
“A fool,” the person said coldly. “I hoped he would destroy Qin, but never expected him to kill the Qin royal family and burn Xianyang palaces. He went too far, so I made him pay with his life. Only pity for this poppy—perhaps when fated, let them reunite.”
Hearing the hatred in the general’s voice, the soldier was stunned. The First Emperor’s tyranny made everyone want Qin’s fall, but this general seemed not to hate Qin but harbor other grievances.
“You may go. After so many years beside me, you can surely play me well.” The person said flatly. The soldier licked his nervous, dry lips, accepting a gold-inlaid ring.
“This is Daji’s enchantment ring—it can change appearance. From now you are Han Xin, the Han Dynasty’s general. This is your choice—whatever the consequences, don’t regret them.”
“Yes, yes, general take care.” The soldier, eagerly donning the ring and transforming into “Han Xin’s” appearance, hurried away to pursue his general’s dream.
Wind blew through the swaying flower sea. The person removed his helmet, revealing a refined face, sighing skyward: “Fusu, I’ve finally avenged you…”
The rest was lost in wind—no one heard.
Yu Cui stared dazedly at the pale ceiling.
What had happened to her? The last image was Xiang Yu cutting his throat before her, hot blood splashing on her soil. She desperately called to him but got no response, only watching his blood slowly absorbed by her, bitterly swallowed.
Everything seemed so unreal yet vivid.
She seemed to have had a very long dream.
After lying in bed for half an hour, hearing her parents getting up to cook, Yu Cui realized she had returned to modern times.
Had it all really been just a dream?
She immediately jumped from bed. Having lacked bodily sensation so long, she could barely walk. Her legs gave way and she fell beside the bed.
Ignoring the pain, she crawled to the entrance, then stared in amazement—where she’d buried the poppy seed, a tender sprout had grown.
“Cui Cui! What’s wrong with you?” Father asked in surprise.
Yu Cui had no time to respond, stumbling to her feet and rushing downstairs. She remembered a flower shop had opened at the street corner—she needed to buy a pot and soil to transplant that poppy.
Could it be that this time, Xiang Yu had reincarnated as a poppy seed? Now she had to grow him? She couldn’t imagine the Hegemon-King Xiang Yu as a flower… shudder…
Grumbling and complaining, Yu Cui pushed open the flower shop door.
“Welcome,” an incredibly familiar, gentle voice rang out.
Yu Cui stared at this tall, strong man—handsome as ever, only his topknot had become neat short hair, cold iron armor replaced by a casual sweater, even wearing a cute Snoopy apron.
“Xiang Yu?” Yu Cui trembled, asking incredulously.
The man gently nodded, smiling broadly: “You’re Yu Cui? You’re even cuter than I imagined.”
Yu Cui charged over with fists and feet flying.
Xiang Yu held his head pitifully: “I thought when you saw me again, you’d hug me and cry!”
“Die, Xiang Yu! I’ve wanted to do this forever! Don’t think flowers and plants have no temper! Roar!”
“…Miss, please show mercy!!”
Yu Cui held Xiang Yu’s head, pounding, hitting, and biting…
“What happened? Did you meet someone?” The owner saw the puzzled doctor entering and raised an eyebrow.
The doctor placed breakfast on the counter, biting disposable chopsticks: “I think I saw that little girl from yesterday at the corner flower shop. She seemed to be transplanting a newly sprouted seed into a pot… Could it be the seed you gave her sprouted?”
“What’s strange about that?” The owner said flatly. “Seeds, sooner or later, will always sprout—whether one-year-old seeds or two-thousand-year-old seeds. That seed sprouting again means the fated pair should reunite…”
“Hey! What’s the real story behind that seed?” The doctor still found Dumb House’s endless mysterious items overwhelming.
“Nothing special. Everything in Dumb House is just antiques.” The owner smiled slightly, snapping apart disposable chopsticks. “Next time don’t bring disposable chopsticks—I have chopsticks here. Just wash them after use.”
The doctor ate silently, not daring to respond. Who just said everything in Dumb House was antiques? Those chopsticks were definitely antiques too! He didn’t want to eat with centuries-old utensils!
And who knew… they might be chopsticks buried with some dead person!