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Comparing Northern Qi and Southern Qing?

The topic had to be treated with care, as he could not downplay his own country’s strength, and as an envoy, he could not criticize Northern Qi too harshly. But Fan Xian answered freely, as if he had known the answer to this question since birth. He spoke with courage in his convictions, his words resounding and powerful, and delivered rapidly. He made Haitang’s seemingly always-calm face change, and left the Emperor jaw-dropped, showing his well-kept white teeth.

Fan Xian smiled gently and cupped his hands in salute.

“But as a foreign official, I do not know for sure.”

Such modesty. The Emperor was stunned, then burst into laughter. He couldn’t punish this rascal: after all, he was a “foreign official”, even if he did know plenty about the Kingdom of Qing, he knew little of Qi, so how he could he compare them?

The Emperor looked at Fan Xian, laughed, and shook his head. “Today I have discovered that the immortal poet I have thought about for so long has a glib tongue indeed. No wonder the Emperor of Qing sent you as his envoy.” Fan Xian laughed. “I am merely an official. The reason His Majesty sent me here is mainly my interest in the culture of Northern Qi, and as I have some regard in that aspect, he sent me to learn more of it.”

The Emperor laughed. “With the famed immortal poet here, I should have some of the students of the Imperial College come in and listen to Minister Fan’s teachings.”

Fan Xian felt some uneasiness at the fact that he was a fake professor at the Imperial College of Qing without having attended a single lecture – how could he come to the north and become a visiting lecturer?

“If I were to head south, Minister Fan, have preparations been made?”

The young Emperor looked placid, but the sense of prestige that came from having grown up in the palace suddenly began to appear on his face. It was a sensitive and arrogant question, there were only two people who could ask it and in the whole world. But the one he asked was the envoy of an enemy nation. The meaning behind it was rather fascinatng, like a spring thunderclap. Fan Xian’s face did not change. “No preparations have been made.”

“Why not?” The Emperor looked at him coldly, leaning on a railing.

“The people of Qi do not concern themselves with war, so it will be dangerous.” Fan Xian smiled. “The people of Qing are a warlike people, and so there will be great peril. Luckily, Your Majesty is determined to better yourself, and His Majesty is an experienced ruler. There is a fortunate balance between these two ends.”

“What kind of man is the Emperor of Qing?” asked the Emperor suddenly. “I have corresponded with him in two personal letters, but I cannot figure him out.”

Fan Xian muttered curses under his breath. He was an official of the Kingdom of Qing, after all – what kind of game was the Emperor playing? So he said nothing. The Emperor of Northern Qi looked at him and laughed. “Your Emperor is ageing,” he said gently, “and I am yet young. Should I ride south, I hope that you may speak on my behalf in the palace, Minister Fan.”

Fan Xian raised his eyebrows. “Should Your Majesty be a guest in the south, I shall write a poem of praise,” he said in a manner that was neither servile nor overbearing.

“Heading south” had two different meanings to the two men. For the Emperor, it meant leading his armies southward to capture territory from Qing. To Fan Xian, it meant going to the Kingdom of Qing to be held as prisoner after his defeat.

Choosing not to waste words, Fan Xian’s face remained calm. He himself was not anxious. The young Emperor was indeed a man with high aspirations, but in speaking with him he seemed overly talkative. He could not be sure whether it was youthful indiscretion, or whether he really wanted this foreign official to report his intentions to the royal court of the south.

A slight look of concern suddenly appeared on the Emperor’s brow. It was not clear what he was thinking. He waved his hand. “Shangjing has known only peace, but there have been many misunderstandings between our two nations. I fear that there are those who plan to do you harm, Minister Fan. Although they may not dare to make their move against you, I’m afraid that provocation may be inevitable. For my sake, Minister Fan, be forgiving.”

Fan Xian was taken aback, not by the content of the young Emperor’s words, but by their tone. Be forgiving for the Emperor’s sake? Fan Xian wondered what entitlement he had to be considered so important by the ruler of a nation, and could not understand why the young Emperor was so concerned for him.

“I am rather tired, Minister Fan. Perhaps you had best leave.” The Emperor lightly tapped the railing, and turned back to look silently at Haitang. “My lady, see Master Fan out of the palace. Make sure he doesn’t get lost. If anyone behaves inappropriately toward the Qing diplomatic mission over the next few days, please have a word with them.”

After having a word with Haitang, it was likely that any over-zealous patriots would exercise restraint.

Haitang smiled. “As you command, Your Majesty.”

Fan Xian raised his eyebrows slightly. Was he to be seeing more of this upper ninth-level woman? He couldn’t be sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

The Emperor suddenly smiled. “I hear that you are no longer composing poetry, Master Fan. I must admit I am somewhat disappointed.”

Fan Xian forced a smile. “Please forgive me, Your Majesty. Poetry is the language of the heart, and recently I have been in a perturbed state of mind. It is not possible.”

The Emperor raised his eyebrows and looked at him with an odd smile. “Perhaps, since poetry comes from emotion, seeing such an ordinary person such as myself has left you with no desire to write.”

Fan Xian felt himself break out in sweat.

The Emperor suddenly laughed. “Yesterday the Empress Dowager showed me some writing... ‘does she not know? does she not know? The green leaves should be blooming, the red flowers withered away’. You are talented indeed, Fan Xian.”

Fan Xian was embarrassed; Haitang even more so.

Escorted by Haitang, Fan Xian left the mountain pavilion, following the quiet and secluded path to the jet-black palace in front of the mountain. In the pavilion, the young Emperor of Northern Qi stood silent, having already shed his excited expression from the previous conversation. His lips curled into a faint smile, and he suddenly closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Once more, he felt a trace of what he had felt that night, as he had watched the moon alone.

From behind him came the sound of footsteps. He knew that it was a eunuch hurrying to attend to him, and, slightly annoyed, he waved a dismissive hand. He forbade anyone from entering the pavilion, and just as before, he stood alone at the railing of the pavilion, unsure of his thoughts.

Some time later, he suddenly sighed. “So that’s what Fan Xian has become,” he said to himself. “Lili should have arrived by now.”

Meanwhile, Fan Xian hurried quietly along behind Haitang on the path toward the palace. He was in no mood to appreciate the mountain scenere or the cool breeze. He simply kept a false smile plastered on his face, haughtily keeping his distance from the strange girl.

He could clearly see the way she walked.

Haitang seemed to sway back and forth with each step, but it was not the bashful and affected swaying of a woman trying to seduce someone, but the swaying of someone with a country air. Her hands were stuck into the pockets of her rustic clothing, and the top half of her body didn’t sway at all, but her feet seemed to pull her legs along the stone path. It looked careless, but not with the languid erotic air of some bathing beauty.

Fan Xian narrowed his eyes and gazed at her. He couldn’t understand how she moved. Could it be that she was constantly practicing some kind of natural art as she walked? Fan Xian felt quite some admiration. He had always presumed that he was one of the most diligent practitioners of martial arts, practicing twice a day at morning and twilight. Ever since he had started in Danzhou, he had not once suspended his practice. But he had never imagined that one could practice while simply walking along a path!

No wonder this young woman was at the upper ninth level, while he had done his utmost and yet still was barely on the theshold of the ninth level! No wonder the people of Northern Qi praised her as a Tianmai, while he shamelessly relied on his reputation as a poet! No wonder the young woman could simply wave a hand and he would fall to the floor like a dog! No wonder that when he had injected her with aphrodisiac using his secret crossbow, she had bathed in the river like anyone else, and finally had confidently walked away, paying him no attention – her disdain of him meaning she did not even feel hatred.

Fan Xian was silent. Someone as diligent and talented as her could probably only match wits with someone like Wu Zhu. He had no chance.

As he looked at her for a long time, Haitang seemed to feel the heat of his gaze on her back, staring at her buttocks and her waist. Eventually she could stand it no longer, and she quietly turned around and stared calmly back at him, seemingly wanting to peel back Fan Xian’s layers and reveal his true, wretched self.

Fan Xian’s eyes were bright, without a hint of prevarication. Seeing her turn around, he was surprised, and knowing that she had gotten the wrong idea, he forced a smile. “I was just watching the unusual way you walk. I presumed you were practicing, and I am quite in awe.”

If he was surprised, Haitang was even more surprised. She opened her mouth slightly, looking at the young man from Qing, her thoughts in disarray. She had spent much of her life staying in mountains and palaces, and she had always been steady as a rock. For some reason, looking at Fan Xian’s damnable pretty face and hearing his useless words, she felt suddenly angry. She couldn’t make sense of what he was saying, and after a long moment of silence she spoke curtly. “I was not practicing.”

Having said this, she felt somewhat confused. Why did she have to explain anything to him?

Slightly angered, she continued. “I have always walked this way, ever since I was a child. The Empress Dowager chided me about it for many years, and I never changed. If it offends you so, Master Fan, then perhaps you should walk in front.”

Fan Xian was stunned. What was the problem? Sullenly, he continued to follow behind Haitang.

But Haitang continued to drag her feet with her hands in her pockets, walking carelessly along.

Fan Xian tilted his head and frowned for a long while, then finally understood – this wasn’t practice at all! This was just the way that country girls walked!

When he thought of how this upper ninth-level master Haitang, seen by all the world as some mystical being, was truly a country girl at heart who walked through palaces like she would walk through a field, he could not stop himself from laughing.