The Company

Chapter 74: Stone Boqiong (Part One)

[One]

Fusu wore the Tongtian Crown, a black upper garment and crimson lower garment, thick red ceremonial shoes, a cloud-patterned embroidered belt around his waist, and a multicolored ribbon—yellow base, white feathers, blue and crimson edges, five colors, four hundred segments...

Hanging from his waist was the First Emperor’s personal sword, the seven-foot-long Tai’e Sword.

From head to toe, he was fully adorned with the imperial regalia: the crown, robe, insignia, jade tablet, belt, lower garment, leggings, shoes, pendants, tassels, earplugs, and ribbons. Yet Fusu felt like a prisoner. These heavy trappings were like shackles, firmly locking him onto the dragon throne, leaving him no escape.

Through the jade beads hanging from the Tongtian Crown, Fusu calmly observed the ministers chattering incessantly in the grand hall. This was the court assembly held once every ten days, and these officials, seeing the emperor only once a decade, were striving to make every second count as they reported on local affairs.

Indeed, Fusu’s current identity was that of the emperor—he had inherited the First Emperor’s throne and become Qin Er Shi.

Resting his temple on his fingers, Fusu gazed at the scene he had once dreamed of, a faint, ambiguous smile curling at the corners of his lips. An indescribable sense of absurdity washed over him.

Zhao Gao truly lived up to his reputation as a notorious sycophant through the ages, masterfully manipulating human psychology. This illusion was so vivid it was disorienting, almost convincing one it was reality.

Unfortunately, it was not.

Tsk. If he reasoned it out, the scene he had witnessed with his right eye, the Zhu Dragon Eye—the vision of Bi Zhi killing the Doctor—likely occurred within this chess game.

After all, that scoundrel Zhao Gao would never be so kind as to place those two in the same faction...

Below the vermilion steps, the long-winded minister fell silent, clearly awaiting his response. Fusu hadn’t caught what the man had just said, but he felt no urgency. He simply waved his hand dismissively.

The green-robed young man standing first on his right stepped forward, holding a ceremonial tablet as he bowed and then spoke eloquently.

Fusu listened for a few sentences—it seemed to be about a drought in some region, the people’s suffering, and local farmers rising in rebellion. No matter. Leave it to his Chancellor. He would surely handle it flawlessly.

There was no helping it—he couldn’t be blamed for acting the part of a negligent ruler, ignoring state affairs. These political matters were all illusions anyway. Once he invested effort and became engrossed, he would find it hard to extricate himself. So, he tossed everything to his Chancellor, confident it would be managed with perfect order.

“The past has turned to emptiness, still like a dream.”

Hah, that Zhao Gao probably never imagined that the Fusu of today was no longer the same.

He had already abandoned the unrealistic ambition of revitalizing the Qin dynasty. Even if presented with the most lifelike illusion, it could not stir the slightest enthusiasm in him.

His gaze swept indifferently over the kneeling ministers. Fusu felt as though he had forgotten something. “...We await Your Majesty’s decision.”

The green-robed youth had rambled on at length, but Fusu, lost in thought, only caught this final phrase. However, he faintly heard Wang Li’s name and guessed that his Chancellor had likely dispatched General Wang Li to suppress the rebellion. With an inscrutable nod, he used a catch-all phrase to express agreement: “Your words align well with Our intentions.”

And so, the court assembly concluded in this cycle: ministers reporting, the Chancellor resolving, and the Emperor approving.Fusu returned from court to his study and, with a sense of relief, immediately summoned his attendants to peel off the heavy ceremonial robes layer by layer. Fortunately, it was now the autumn-winter season—had it been the height of summer, he would surely have died from the heat.

He gently brushed back his sleeve; the largest cadaveric stain that had once marred his wrist had long since vanished, leaving behind smooth skin with a healthy pink glow. The young man reflected in the full-length bronze mirror before him now radiated vitality, with none of the ashen pallor of someone nearing death.

Just then, an attendant outside announced the arrival of the Prime Minister. Fusu casually threw on a black everyday robe, tidied his appearance slightly, and stepped out from behind the screen.

The green-robed youth stood ramrod straight in the center of the study, his expression serene. Despite bearing the immense burden of managing an entire nation—from territorial expansion to the minutiae of civilian welfare—not a single furrow creased his brow.

It was as if his mere presence inspired trust and peace of mind.

Fusu couldn't help but relax a little and invited his Prime Minister to take a seat.

"Your Majesty, these are the policy proposals I have compiled over the past few days. Please review them."

Fusu glanced at the small stack of silk documents handed to him by the Prime Minister and fell into a contemplative silence.

The Tuntian System: Establishing military farms along the borders, combining garrison duties with cultivation. This would self-sufficiently resolve the issues of long-distance grain transport and inconvenient logistics, stabilize the frontiers, gradually develop them into strategic military towns, allow flexible troop deployment for defense, and even help settle displaced civilians...

Reforming the bureaucracy: Dispatching officials to various regions, rotating them every five or ten years to strengthen centralization...

Holding triennial examinations for selecting officials, with test content categorized by administrative functions—classics, law, mathematics, history, military strategy...

Suppressing the Hundred Schools of Thought, weakening Legalism, and exclusively honoring Confucianism...

...

The more Fusu read, the more alarmed he became.

These silk documents felt hauntingly familiar—they were the very ones he had watched his A Luo burn, sheet by sheet, after his death.

So, was this world merely an illusion constructed from his subconscious? Or was the Prime Minister standing before him truly his opponent in this game of chess?

[Two]

Fusu never held any hope that that treacherous minister Zhao Gao would act benevolently—such as placing him and A Luo in the same faction.

Therefore, was this Prime Minister before him a product of his illusion, or his chess opponent?

Fusu knew he could test the other's identity by using coded signals to gauge his reactions, yet he chose to say nothing.

When he thought about it, it had been a long time since he had last seen Bi Zhi—ever since he discovered the cadaveric stains on his body and voluntarily departed. Moreover, becoming the emperor himself with his confidant serving as his supporting Prime Minister had truly been the goal he strived for throughout the first half of his life.

Thus, even knowing this was merely an illusion, he allowed himself this selfish indulgence to linger in the experience a little longer... Though aware that such thoughts were improper, Fusu temporarily turned a blind eye. Instead, he casually raised a few points of doubt and questions about how to implement these policies gradually. He and Bi Zhi then fell into a back-and-forth discussion. Was there... something else he had forgotten again?A flicker of doubt crossed Fusu's mind, but his attention was soon captured by the new issue Bi Zhi raised. "Your Majesty, there is another matter that I believe requires immediate attention." "Oh? What matter?" Seeing Bi Zhi's serious expression, Fusu straightened his posture to show his regard. "The matter of establishing an empress."

Fusu nearly failed to suppress a laugh. So in this illusion, he had only just ascended the throne and hadn't yet married or had children. What kind of plot development was this? Did the illusion think that by finding him a wife, giving him children, and creating a gentle haven, it could trap him here forever?

Success, fame, a beautiful wife, charming concubines... Come to think of it, this kind of illusion sounded very much like the ones described in the Peach Blossom Spring...

Of course, this also indirectly indicated that the Prime Minister before him was merely a character in the illusion—in other words... some kind of NPC?

Although this was expected, Fusu couldn't help but turn cold-faced, his entire demeanor radiating a strong sense of detachment. The young Prime Minister, however, paid no heed to the emperor's displeasure and persisted in his persuasion: "Without an empress, it is impossible to stabilize the empire. The minds of the various princes are restless and difficult to pacify. Yet we cannot send them to their respective fiefdoms, for the vast distances may lead to future troubles, potentially reviving the era of fragmented states. But if they remain in Xianyang and interact with the court officials, it may lead to great upheavals in the future."

"Oh? Then, according to your counsel, how should I proceed?"

"I understand the empress's position is crucial and cannot be taken lightly, but we could first select daughters of various ministers to enter the palace, allowing Your Majesty to choose for yourself." "Oh? All these women are from noble families. How should I balance this situation?" "By status, we should select the daughter of a duke to manage the inner palace; or by character, to serve as a model for the empire; or by Your Majesty's preference, to be favored exclusively for a year. If no heir is produced, then we should select consorts again." The young Prime Minister answered fluently, clearly having pondered these words for a long time.

Fusu was almost amused to the point of anger. He hadn't expected to be forced into marriage by Bi Zhi one day. Struggling to maintain his increasingly uncontainable expression, he retorted, "The late emperor also had no empress."

"The First Emperor had no empress, but he had three thousand beauties in his harem. When Your Majesty was born, the First Emperor had not yet reached the age of capping..." The young Prime Minister raised an eyebrow and glanced at him, and Fusu actually detected a hint of teasing in his gaze.

That was right—men were capped at twenty, yet the First Emperor had become a father at eighteen.

Of course, Fusu's situation was different. The First Emperor, having unified the six states, initially intended to pass the Qin dynasty down for ten thousand generations, but later he became obsessed with living ten thousand years himself. Since the First Emperor desired immortality, he was even more unwilling to pass the throne to anyone else.

Although people privately called him the Crown Prince, in reality, he was merely the Eldest Prince. This was also why Zhao Gao dared to forge the First Emperor's edict in history. His father had never formally established a Crown Prince.

Not only had there been no Crown Prince, but the First Emperor had also forbidden his sons from having grandchildren. This was because the First Emperor feared that once the next generation was born, the position of Crown Prince would have to be decided, which would naturally gather many officials around Fusu. Ultimately, as the First Emperor aged, Fusu would become his greatest threat.

Thus, the First Emperor even used the young Prince Huhai to divert the court's attention, deliberately showing favor to him and remaining ambiguous about the matter of establishing a Crown Prince.

Remembering Huhai, Fusu suddenly asked, "By the way, where is Hai'er?"The young Prime Minister wore an expression that brooked no change of subject and was about to continue his righteous and stern pressure for marriage when a young man's delighted voice came from outside the study.

"Your Majesty, you really do still think of me!"

【Three】

A young nobleman dressed in embroidered silk robes and brocade shoes strode in. The moment Fusu saw him, he froze involuntarily.

This was Huhai with black hair and dark eyes.

Sealed memories came flooding back—the Huhai who always clung to their father's lap as a child, the adolescent Huhai who secretly hid under palace eaves to listen to his lessons, the young Huhai whose eyes held traces of madness and cruelty...

Yet even though the Huhai before him now had black hair and dark eyes, one meeting of their gazes was enough for Fusu to confirm that this illusion's Huhai was likely his opponent in this game of chess.

Yes, he remembered what he had forgotten. The antique he brought into the chess game was the Golden Carriage Bell. Though its current whereabouts were unknown, the bell had always been an imperial object. The winning move in this game must lie with the throne.

Therefore, for Huhai to win, he would have to seize the throne from him—once again. Fusu's gaze only turned icy for an instant before returning to calm.

This subtle change was clearly observed by the Prime Minister sitting across from him, who felt relieved that his emperor wasn't truly naive and remained wary even toward this seemingly useless young prince.

"Your Majesty! Look what treasures I've brought back! This is a dragon-phoenix-tiger embroidered brocade robe from Chu lands, and a roll of premium cloud-patterned sheer gauze—exceptionally lightweight, perfect for making summer robes..." Huhai waved his hand, and the attendants behind him stepped forward one by one, presenting several Brocade Boxes, each containing priceless treasures.

Indeed, Huhai had crafted for himself the persona of a pleasure-seeking young prince. His previous travels with the First Emperor served this purpose—publicly demonstrating no ambition for the throne.

In this illusion's setting, it was still Huhai who accompanied the First Emperor on his final tour. Zhao Gao had suggested altering the emperor's final decree, but Huhai directly charged him with deceiving the sovereign, ordering the guards to execute Zhao Gao before personally traveling to the frontier to bring Fusu back. Thus, even though the young Prime Minister always viewed Huhai with disfavor, he had to admit this young prince genuinely supported Fusu.

Watching Huhai's expression of awaiting praise after presenting his treasures, the young Prime Minister found it too much to bear. He cupped his hands and withdrew to attend to official matters, though not before reminding Fusu to consider his earlier proposal.

Huhai watched as the Prime Minister backed out of the study but tactfully refrained from asking what they had been discussing. Instead, he casually picked up the cloud-patterned gauze, holding it against Fusu's frame while thoughtfully considering which colored sash would best complement it.

"Enough. There's no need to keep pretending."

"Your Majesty, this fabric is enough for two summer robes. Could the Weaving Room use the leftover material to make one for me as well?"

"I already know what you truly want."

"Don't worry, Huhai wouldn't dare copy Your Majesty's design exactly. With different colored trims and sashes, they'd look completely different."

"Must I spell it out for you?""Sigh, does Imperial Brother think Huhai is being stingy? Giving you a gift and then asking for half the silk back – it's truly because Chu region's silk is too remarkable!"

After talking at cross purposes for a long while, both fell silent simultaneously. Huhai turned around, threw the plain silk scroll back into the Brocade Box, then waved his hand to dismiss the attendants.

Fusu sighed, preparing to lay his cards on the table with Huhai.

"Don't say it, Imperial Brother, don't say it." Sensing something, Huhai hurriedly rushed over, half-kneeling before Fusu, grasping his hands with eyes full of plea. "Imperial Brother, isn't this good? Here, so real – you become emperor, I'll be the idle prince. Isn't this wonderful?

"Though this is an illusion, as long as there's no winner, we can live here forever. Imperial Brother, your illness... in the real world, you might not last long. But here, time stands still, and we can spend a lifetime together.

"Here, you reign as emperor, I've corrected my mistakes – this is how history should have truly unfolded!" Huhai lowered his voice as if a third person were present, though the vast study held only them.

Gritting his teeth, though reluctant to mention that person, he added unwillingly: "Here, that man serves as chancellor, assisting you in ruling the world, strengthening Qin, ensuring its legacy for ten thousand generations!"

For a moment, Fusu actually felt swayed by Huhai's words. This was indeed the past he had always yearned for – the future he'd striven for in his youth.

"This place is truly good," Fusu said slowly but firmly, withdrawing his right hand from Huhai's grasp. "But none of this is real."

Seeing his younger brother's tear-filled eyes, Fusu offered a rare, genuine smile. He knew Huhai's words weren't entirely truthful either.

If he remained emperor, it meant Huhai had failed. Soon, the game would judge Huhai's defeat, erase him, and Fusu would be expelled from this illusion to continue the next round.

Thus, the eternal illusion, the glorious eternal Qin dynasty – all were illusory bubbles that would shatter at a touch.

That master manipulator Zhao Gao had forced him to choose between Huhai and A Luo. In truth, there was no dilemma.

This foolish brother before him was no match for A Luo. Not two thousand years ago, not now either.

Just then, clear, melodious bells echoed from outside the hall, growing nearer. Ming Hong, adorned in fiery red Plumage, circled above the palace with a golden carriage bell in its beak before flying in through the open window.

Understanding its master's will, Ming Hong directly delivered the bell to Fusu.

Fusu stroked Ming Hong's soft, warm Plumage but handed the bell to Huhai with unwavering resolve. "Younger Brother, you won this round back then. Today shall be no different."

"Imperial Brother!"

"'Hear my song before honor, after drunkenness – how helplessly life parts us...'"

Clutching the cold golden bell, Huhai watched Fusu's figure gradually fade while reciting poetry, his strength draining as he stood frozen in place.

This must be Imperial Brother's punishment upon him.

[This round: Black Side - Huhai wins.]

[Four]With his hands clasped behind his back, Tang Yuan strolled leisurely past the bookshelves, occasionally reaching out to pick up a Bronze Weight. Under the dim light of the hall, he examined them with an air of practiced appreciation.

Sun Shuo initially watched the little fellow with interest, but when he realized the boy was merely stalling aimlessly, he allowed a faint smile to curl his lips. Placing the bronze Human-shaped Lamp on the desk, he lowered his gaze to rest.

He wondered how the young master was faring.

Though the young master had instructed him to go easy at times, Sun Shuo still felt a twinge of reluctance.

Others might not know, but he had an inkling of Zhao Gao’s true purpose in this chess game.

To settle a thousand-year-old rivalry with that Taoist priest—it all sounded far too juvenile. More likely, Zhao Gao was using the game to carry out some sinister scheme. In this match, the loser would probably become a sacrificial offering, while the winner would advance, until only one remained as the ultimate victor.

Clearly, this was a game where only Zhao Gao was meant to survive.

Sun Shuo had already been dead for over two thousand years, yet he had no desire to perish again in such an obscure manner. Thus, the little one’s delaying tactics suited him just fine.

After all, no one had said a draw or stalemate was impermissible.

Satisfied, Sun Shuo tugged at the corner of his lips, resolved to stand there until the end of time. Suddenly, an innocent, cheerful voice echoed through the hall. “Hey, don’t you think it might be this Bronze Weight?”

Sun Shuo’s brow twitched. He had assumed he and the child had reached a silent understanding—they would while away the time in this hall, perhaps even until the game concluded.

It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. Was the boy truly foolish, or merely feigning ignorance? Suppressing his confusion, Sun Shuo looked up, only to widen his eyes in shock the next moment.

“Tsk, tsk, judging by your expression, I guessed right?” Tang Yuan arched an eyebrow triumphantly, waving the unremarkable Bronze Weight in his hand.

“Impossible!” Sun Shuo realized that, unnoticed by him, Tang Yuan had approached the very shelf where his true form—the Bronze Weight—was placed. And the one in Tang Yuan’s hand was indeed his own essence!

“Why impossible? Your true form is in this hall, isn’t it? If it’s here, then there’s a chance I’d find it!” Tilting his head, Tang Yuan feigned innocence, omitting the fact that the odds of selecting the right one were merely one in ten thousand.

“Oh? Then why did you choose this Bronze Weight?” Sun Shuo masked his surprise, striving to regain composure. “These Bronze Weights all look quite similar.”

By rights, the man only needed to confirm whether the choice was correct and had no grounds to question further. But recalling the ancient-robed man’s earlier tolerance toward him, Tang Yuan obliged with a smile and explained, “Well, at first glance, the Bronze Weights in this hall do seem unremarkable. Some are large, some small; some coated in dust, others clean; some even bear greasy fingerprints…

“But most of these Bronze Weights bear inscriptions.

“A Bronze Weight is essentially a scale weight. It’s said they’ve been in use since the Eastern Zhou Dynasty and have persisted to this day. Even now…”Even with the existence of electronic scales, bronze weights are still widely used in many places. These bronze weights are not only engraved with their measurements but also often bear their production dates.

"You mentioned wanting to identify your true form, so this bronze weight should date back to the same dynasty as you.

"What you hold in your hand is a bronze human-shaped lamp. Lamps first took shape during the Warring States period, and human-shaped bronze lamps were the most popular style of that era, also known as 'Strongman Lamps.' Based on material and design analysis, this simple and archaic style likely dates to the late Warring States period. After all, human-shaped lamps became more diverse during the Han dynasty, even featuring foreign strongmen with curly hair, high noses, and deep-set eyes.

"And the attire you're wearing is the most popular Wrapped Robe of the Qin Dynasty, specifically the short Wrapped Robe. You should know that in later eras, Wrapped Robes were only worn by women, but during the Qin and Han periods, they were unisex. Your Wrapped Robe just passes the knees, with no additional ornaments or patterns, so it should be what a servant would wear.

"Of course... given my senior brother's status... the previous deductions are actually supplementary. Your true form should be a Bronze Weight from the Qin Dynasty.

"And coincidentally, since the Qin Dynasty was extremely brief—beginning in 221 BCE and ending in 207 BCE—it lasted only fifteen years.

"There should only be two types of Bronze Weights from the Qin period: one issued after Qin Shi Huang pacified the six states and unified weights and measures, and another issued after Qin Er Shi ascended the throne.

"So, it just so happens I noticed this one, and I thought I'd ask first! After all, I have three chances, don't I?"

After delivering this long analysis, Tang Yuan's still-childish face broke into a wide grin.

Sun Shuo remained silent for a moment after listening, then said calmly, "Oh? Aren't you afraid that this Human-shaped Lamp I'm holding was just picked up randomly, and this so-called Wrapped Robe I'm wearing was just thrown on?"

"So, I actually guessed right, didn't I?" Tang Yuan secretly breathed a sigh of relief. It sounded like the man believed him; he'd managed to bluff his way through.

In reality, it was the Little White Snake who had told him about this Bronze Weight.

In this room full of Bronze Weights, the Little White Snake could detect which ones had spiritual energy and how much. This particular Bronze Weight stood out like a firefly in the night, making it easy for the snake to identify.

Tang Yuan wasn't sure if following the Little White Snake's guidance counted as cheating with an external aid, so he had spent all this time wandering around, mainly thinking about how to phrase his persuasion to this uncle.

Fortunately, it seemed to have worked!

"Truly, the younger generation is to be feared. I shouldn't have underestimated you just because you're a child," Sun Shuo sighed deeply.

"What does being a child matter? My senior brother was already appointed as a high minister when he was my age!" Tang Yuan waved his fist proudly, though this was also something his master often mocked him with. In his memory, his senior brother was always that "other people's child."

"Continue on your way. I hope luck stays with you," Sun Shuo smiled, as if a weight had been lifted.

The antique he wielded was a Bronze Weight Balance, an utterly ordinary one among countless others. Its wish was to be recognized among its myriad kin.

Yes, he had lingered in this world for so long; it was time to let go.

With a calm expression, Sun Shuo bent down and extinguished the bronze Human-shaped Lamp placed beside the low table. The other lamps and candles on the walls went out one by one, and the hall returned to complete darkness.

The wooden door of the hall creaked open outward. Suppressing his unease, Tang Yuan took a few steps outside but couldn't resist looking back.

By the starlight outside, Tang Yuan saw that the densely packed Bronze Weights on the rows of shelves in the hall had all vanished.

Clutching the Qin Dynasty Bronze Weight in his hand, Tang Yuan finally stepped out of the empty hall.

[This round: White Side, Tang Yuan wins.]

[Five]

Cai Wei opened her eyes and saw the all-too-familiar Weaving Room, almost thinking she was dreaming.

Wasn't she outside the Yingfan Tower? Sun Shuo had handed her a black jade piece with her name on it... How did she end up in the Weaving Room the moment she opened her eyes?Cai Wei reached out and touched the embroidery frame before her, then glanced at the pitch-black sky outside the Weaving Room. She lifted her hand to remove the cover cloth beside the frame, and the soft glow of the Night-Shining Pearl instantly illuminated the entire room.

The Weaving Room housed numerous silk textiles—delicate, precious fabrics highly susceptible to fire damage. The most fragile light, thin silk fabrics would singe and curl even if lightly grazed by lamplight, so weavers never worked after dark. In the entire Weaving Room, only her chief weaver’s embroidery frame was equipped with a Night-Shining Pearl for emergency use during late-night work sessions.

Under the pearl’s pale green radiance, Cai Wei gazed at the familiar surroundings with overwhelming emotions. She never imagined she could return to this place.

But now was not the time for sentimentality.

As Cai Wei prepared to rise and investigate, she discovered she was wearing an exceptionally beautiful skirt. The sight made her hold her breath involuntarily.

This was an exquisite garment, almost indescribably magnificent.

Steadying her dazzled senses, Cai Wei examined it closely. The skirt featured gradient-colored gauze silk as its base, with golden threads woven through its mesh openings. The surface was embroidered with feathers from hundreds of birds, shifting colors under the pearl’s light with her every movement. The avian patterns seemed to come alive through these chromatic transformations—a true marvel of craftsmanship.

Though layered, the silk skirt felt lightweight rather than heavy. With the slightest turn, the feathered hem would flutter like wings ready to catch the wind and take flight.

As a weaver, Cai Wei appreciated the dress differently from others. While observers might marvel at its beauty, she couldn’t help analyzing its construction.

First were the dazzling golden threads covering the garment. Though she could no longer feel the fibers’ resilience, their cool metallic texture suggested genuine gold! If true, this would qualify as gold brocade—a supreme weaving technique valued not only for precious materials but also for complex craftsmanship. Cai Wei deduced these threads were likely hammered from gold foil before being twisted into filaments.

These resplendent threads served to secure the multicolored bird feathers. Each plume was wound with gold thread and bound with fine silk, creating a shimmering effect that complemented the gold with unparalleled elegance.

Cai Wei stared enchanted at the silk skirt. She didn’t know its name nor when she had put it on. But seeing her reflection in the bronze mirror, for a fleeting moment she felt like a noble princess.

Such was the magic of luxurious garments.

Since ancient times, clothing ranked first among life’s necessities—even above food. Cai Wei spent a long moment captivated by her reflection before regaining her composure.

She wanted to remove the valuable skirt but found no alternative garments nearby, forcing her to remain dressed this way. Cai Wei reminded herself this was temporary—she mustn’t become intoxicated by the exquisite robe.

Yet despite her resolve, her movements naturally grew cautious, fearing she might damage the magnificent silk skirt with any careless motion.Cai Wei attempted to leave the Weaving Room, only to find its main door completely immovable no matter how hard she pushed or pulled. This again.

From being trapped in the basement to the Shadow-Flourishing Pagoda, it seemed that after her life had ended, she was forever circulating through one prison after another.

Gritting her lower lip in frustration, Cai Wei tried peering through the door crack. Outside lay the familiar scenery of the Xianyang Palace, with palace lanterns along the corridor burning with faint candlelight—yet not a single guard stood watch beneath them.

Though she had lost track of time in the Shadow-Flourishing Pagoda, Cai Wei naturally didn’t believe she had suddenly returned to many years earlier. Nor could she accept that this Weaving Room could remain exactly as it was after so much time had passed.

As she pondered, Cai Wei faintly heard footsteps approaching from outside. She hurriedly pressed closer to the door, catching a glimpse through the crack of a young man passing through the corridor in front of the Weaving Room.

That profile—wasn’t he the young man she had encountered in the Shadow-Flourishing Pagoda? Had he already escaped?

Overjoyed, though unsure how he had managed to break free, Cai Wei saw this as a hopeful turn of events.

Watching as the young man was about to move out of sight, Cai Wei urgently pounded on the Weaving Room’s door, praying he would hear her cries.

Yet whether he hadn’t heard at all or was feigning ignorance, the young man with the strange object perched on his nose bridge walked straight past the corridor without a glance, his footsteps gradually fading into silence until they vanished completely.

Cai Wei let out a disappointed sigh. She stood by the Weaving Room’s door, hoping someone else might pass by, but no one came even after a long wait.

An overwhelming sense of defeat washed over her, especially after the brief flicker of hope for rescue, making the ensuing despair almost crushing. Sensing something amiss, Cai Wei touched her cheek and found it wet—she had been weeping without realizing it.

Slumping weakly to the floor, Cai Wei cried silently, as if pouring out centuries of pent-up grievances. Yet her rational mind warned her:

This wasn’t like her usual self.

The soft glow of the Night-Shining Pearl gently enveloped a beauty weeping like a pear blossom bathed in rain, her woven skirt shimmering with golden, resplendent ripples. It was an exquisitely poignant scene, enough to soften the hardest of hearts.

The beauty widened her almond-shaped eyes, stared blankly for a moment, then resolutely wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. Rising, she surveyed the Weaving Room, selected a chestnut-colored length of fabric, returned to the master seat, picked up a pair of scissors, and swiftly began cutting. Since no intricate design or embroidery was needed, she could fashion a simple Long Robe in very little time.

Quietly, Cai Wei changed out of her precious Silk Skirt and into the newly made chestnut-colored Long Robe, then tore a piece of autumn-spice-colored cloth to use as a belt. She hung the valuable Silk Skirt on a clothing rack, tidied her disheveled hair, and gazed at her restored reflection in the bronze mirror, finally releasing a relieved sigh.

She hadn’t noticed anything particularly wrong with the Silk Skirt, but wearing uncomfortable clothing always felt terribly awkward. The moment she removed it, it was as if a shackle had been lifted, leaving her feeling utterly at ease.

It seemed that what didn’t belong to her truly wasn’t meant for her.Cai Wei had returned to her usual self. As the most exceptional chief weaver of the Great Qin Empire, years of monotonous needlework had tempered her spirit into unshakable resilience.

Having been trapped for so long, she had grown accustomed to it.

Why had she lost control earlier? Could it be that wearing such an exquisite silk skirt had made her genuinely believe she was a princess in need of rescue by guards?

How absurd that she still clung to such impractical fantasies.

After this self-reflection, Cai Wei refused to cast another glance at the silk skirt. No matter how magnificent or dazzling it was, it no longer deserved even a moment of her attention. From that point onward, the skirt’s radiance seemed to dim slightly, losing its previous brilliance.

Yet Cai Wei paid it no mind. Though this was already the third prison confining her, she had not forgotten

her driving desire to escape. She needed to know whether that demon was still alive.

She meticulously searched every inch of the Weaving Room for a possible escape route—from the ceiling to the windows, the main door, and finally the floor… At last, while tapping the floorboards, she detected a hollow sound beneath her chief weaver’s seat.

After further investigation, Cai Wei discovered a hidden mechanism under one of the floorboards. Beneath the seat she had occupied all this time lay a passage descending deep underground.

Summoning her courage, she pried the Night-Shining Pearl from the nearby Embroidery Frame, lifted the hem of her long robe, and slowly descended. Ah… this place…

Treadle looms, slant looms, pattern looms… along with familiar materials and fabrics—wasn’t this the dungeon where she had been imprisoned after her death?

Could it be that all those years, she had been trapped beneath the Weaving Room?

Verifying whether this was indeed the same dungeon was simple.

Cai Wei approached the pattern loom, crouched down, and felt along the base. Her fingers brushed against a soft cloth bundle, and a weight lifted from her heart.

She retrieved the bundle and sat before the Embroidery Frame to unwrap it. Inside lay an exquisitely crafted figured gauze vest.

Years ago, she had finished weaving the figured gauze for Zhao Gao but repeatedly concealed this fact when he inquired. She had no intention of letting that villain wear her painstaking work.

Yet, her Lord High Minister could no longer wear the garments she wove.

But what mindset had driven her to meticulously weave this figured gauze despite everything? It was a desperate, unspoken longing buried deep within her heart.

Cai Wei sighed, studying the figured gauze in her hands. Noting areas for improvement, she decided to continue stitching—idle hands might as well stay busy.

[VI]

Before Ying lay a two-tiered bronze brazier plate on the low table. The two plates were connected by four beast-shaped legs, with a shallow upper disc featuring three ring handles, each attached to bronze lifting chains for easy handling. The lower disc, identical in size, rested on three short feet and had several square holes at the bottom for ventilation. This bronze brazier plate, crafted in Chu territory, embodied the region’s characteristic extravagance—even the bronze chains were intricately carved.

Ying had acquired this Chu-style brazier plate through a cook sourced from among the captives of Chu. Though the cook descended from Chu nobility, his family had declined in status. Driven by a passion for culinary arts, he eventually rose to oversee the King of Chu’s meals.Speaking of the former Seven Warring States, Chu's cuisine was truly top-notch. Located in the warm south, Chu boasted abundant ingredients and seasonings, with numerous waterways—truly a land of fish and rice. In comparison, the resource-poor Qin was like clouds and mud.

Unfortunately, Qin Shi Huang, who valued his life above all, would never directly hire foreign chefs. Ying, however, had no such concerns, as he was merely an overlooked prince.

After reaching adulthood, Ying deliberately reduced his presence, avoiding large ceremonies and banquets whenever possible. A food enthusiast, he crafted a persona focused on indulgence, traveling far and wide to sample delicacies. Following A Luo's suggestion, he opened the World Eatery in Xianyang under an alias, serving only dishes he deemed exceptional. With the Qin dynasty now unified and Xianyang's populace growing prosperous, the eatery had become so popular it expanded four times.

On the bronze brazier plate before Ying lay a new dish presented by a Chu chef—one he planned to introduce at the World Eatery. Maintaining a renowned restaurant required not just quality fare but also constant innovation.

Beneath the bronze plate, glowing charcoal embers simmered, while above, a crisply roasted river fish sizzled. Marinated beforehand with sauce and wine to eliminate any fishy taste, it retained only the tender freshness of river delicacies. Surrounding the fish were lotus root, bamboo shoots, mustard greens, celery, taro, cabbage, mallow, bean leaves, and scallions—allowing diners to customize their meal. Dipped in the fish's savory juices, these vegetables often surpassed the fish itself in flavor.

Though Xianyang, being inland, had no strong tradition of fish consumption, Ying knew this bronze-brazier roasted fish—paired with the allure of "imperial Chu cuisine"—would be an instant hit.

The Chu chef stood beside Ying, eagerly explaining the dish. His culinary skills were his livelihood, and given his sensitive origins, serving a generous patron beat laboring in mass kitchens.

But Ying listened distractedly, sampling a bite of fish followed by lotus root before setting down his chopsticks with a nod.

The chef waited anxiously until Ying casually instructed the steward to order a hundred sets of identical bronze braziers. Realizing his dish would soon debut at the World Eatery, the chef beamed with relief.

Ying offered a few patient words of encouragement and had the steward reward the chef with two bolts of cloth—valuable commodities that could be sold for a hefty sum. Thanking Ying profusely, the chef cheerfully followed the steward back to the kitchen. The brazier's coals blazed, the fish hissed aromatically, and fragrance filled the room—yet Ying, usually a gourmand, felt no appetite.

Qin Shi Huang had embarked on his fifth eastern tour, and all expected his safe return as before. Instead, a coffin arrived. Then Chancellor Li Si announced the emperor's will: Young Prince Huhai was to inherit the throne. Soon came news of border crises—Eldest Prince Fusu and General Meng Tian had rebelled. The Meng clan in Xianyang was imprisoned, along with all implicated associates.Like everyone else, Ying completely disbelieved that the imperial decree truly named Huhai as successor. Even if the First Emperor were gravely ill and confused, how could he possibly choose this boy? But people's positions differed—a controllable emperor ascending the throne would bring immense benefits to some. Those harboring such thoughts gathered together to safeguard Huhai's imperial position.

Ying hadn't wanted to concern himself with the change of emperors. Unless all twenty-some sons of the First Emperor died, the throne had nothing to do with him whatsoever.

But his A Luo was with Fusu! If Fusu couldn't ascend the throne and was branded a rebel, then A Luo's fate would be...

Who could have imagined that Fusu's seemingly certain succession would be snatched away by Huhai? He'd long known that staying far from Xianyang would lead to no good outcome...

Ying burned with anxiety, finally unable to remain seated. As he stood to pace the room, a clear, melodious sound chimed from his waist.

Ying froze, instinctively reaching toward his waist. His fingers met something cool and smooth.

Looking down, he saw his long-unseen Jade Belt Pendant.

Feeling the familiar texture of the Jade Belt Pendant, Ying found it strange. Hadn't this set of jade pieces broken when he was very young, with one fragment shattering before he stored it away?

The broken jade piece had been mended with silver plating in an intertwined vine pattern, making it quite charming.

Fleeting images flashed through Ying's mind, too quick to grasp.

Just as he tried to concentrate, the door suddenly creaked open. Someone entered uninvited, casually flipping his robes as he sat opposite the low table, grabbing Chopsticks to devour the food.

"...Wang Li?!" Ying stared wide-eyed at the man feasting before him.

Ying hesitated momentarily because this man differed greatly from his memory of Wang Li. Perhaps frontier hardships had matured him considerably, making him appear several years older. His sun-tanned skin had turned wheat-colored, with stubble lining his jaw. Most strikingly, a scar stretched above his left eye—just slightly lower would have cost him the eye, hinting at how perilous the situation must have been.

Wang Li swallowed the grilled fish, observing Ying's expression before asking meaningfully: "You don't seem... surprised to see me?"

Ying paused, then smiled faintly. "Why would I be? You're not like me—alone and unattached. You'd never gamble with your grandfather's, father's, or even the entire Wang clan's fate."

Serving as deputy general under Meng Tian, when Crown Prince Fusu and Meng Tian were declared rebels, Wang Li promptly returned to Xianyang to avoid implicating his family. No one could fault his decision.

After exchanging pleasantries, Ying urgently inquired about A Luo's situation.

A complex expression flickered across Wang Li's face before he calmly replied: "He remains with the Crown Prince. What danger could there be?"

"Excellent!" Ying sighed in relief, smiling. "Strangely enough, I had a long dream yesterday—I dreamed I went to buy a colored glaze bead, then wound up in some inescapable place called Sky Light Market. Later I visited some Cloud Elephant Graveyard, and I seemed to see A Luo in between... Ah, just a chaotic dream. I feared it might be an ill omen about A Luo. Now I can finally rest easy."Wang Li tightened his grip on the bamboo chopsticks, then relaxed slightly as he picked up a piece of grilled fish and continued eating. "Speaking of which, I don't want that kid Huhai to become Qin Er Shi." Ying touched the jade belt pendant at his waist, a surge of emotion rising in his chest.

A surge of inexplicable courage made her feel as if she had been confined her entire life, and she no longer wished to remain stuck in her ways. After a long silence, Ying lifted her head and said earnestly to Wang Li, "You'll help me, won't you?"

Wang Li slowly chewed and swallowed the grilled fish in his mouth, a faint smile curling at the corners of his lips as he replied leisurely, "What kind of nonsense are you spouting?"

(End of Chapter)