Chapter 1: The Red Clay Hearth
“Congratulations to the Ninth Prince for being granted the domain of Da Xu!”
“Though Da Xu lies on the frontier, it is still one of the ten vassal states of the Great Qi dynasty. Today, we welcome a new lord—let’s not leave sober!”
“Come! Fresh wine with green bubbles, a small red clay stove. As the night falls and snow threatens, will you share a cup with me?”
…
Da Xu Royal City—Prince's Residence.
To call it a Prince’s Residence is generous; it’s merely a rather spacious courtyard. Compared to the palatial estates of Da Wu, Da Wei, or Da Liang—sprawling for tens of archery ranges, with towers and jade halls everywhere—it falls far short.
Chai Xiao sat at the center seat of the Hall of Diligence, needing a long moment to accept the reality that he had crossed over into this world.
Ten princes in all—how had he ended up as the most mediocre, the Ninth Prince?
Wu, Wei, Liang, Chen, Shu, Han, Yue, Jin, Xu, Min.
Except for the last—reserved for the six-year-old snot-nosed A Man until he comes of age—all had their lords.
The titles were the same—“Your Highness”—but the first three were “Princes,” the next five “County Princes,” and only he was a mere “Duke.”
To add insult to injury, not only was his rank low, but Da Xu lacked even a proper army.
The Wu, Wei, and Liang armies, famed as the tiger, leopard, and bear of Great Qi, were formidable, rivaling the imperial “Dragon Army” and Feathered Guards.
Last year, when the Great Liao dynasty invaded, the imperial capital called upon all vassals to raise troops; these three sent the most men and received the greatest rewards.
But the Xu army was scattered everywhere.
Among the dwarfs, one barely stands taller; it took tremendous effort to muster three thousand troops for the campaign.
Yet, on the very day banners were raised, news arrived—the capital siege had ended.
They could only disband on the spot, return to their posts, and go their separate ways.
Since then, they’ve been the laughingstock: “Are the three thousand Xu soldiers mighty or not? Gathered and dispersed in a flash, thunderous but gone!”
Not only did the other princes laugh—so did their soldiers, and even commoners.
Was it merely a joke? Just regain face!
Power flows from the barrel of a gun!
He was, after all, a military academy graduate—start by training troops!
Once he had a well-trained force, who could tell whose family would rule Great Qi?
Chai Xiao stood up, puffing out his round belly, and strode out.
Two close servants hurried to restrain him. “Your Highness, where are you going?”
Chai Xiao pointed at the nearest guards. “Call these soldiers over—let’s wrestle, brandish swords, liven things up!”
“Oh, Your Highness, on such an auspicious day! Wrestling and swordplay—too much bloodlust, what bad luck! The singers and dancers are ready, aren’t they? Let them take the stage! Let’s enjoy music, watch the performance, drink and admire the view—how wonderful!”
“Indeed! The song ‘Clouds Held Back’ rings clear, the ‘Snow Dance’ sways light. As long as Your Highness casts a glance, the kingdom follows! Come! Let’s be drunk together and celebrate your new investiture!”
A troupe of dancers entered, faces veiled with sleeves, gliding forward. At a flick of their long sleeves, they divided into two groups, dancing gracefully to the sound of flutes and zithers.
On either side of the hall, four red clay stoves were lit, flames rising, reflected by the rows of lanterns outside, bright as daylight.
“The night brings new forbidden melodies, flutes and drums echo across the river. Dresses still stained with rouge, fans just moved, brows in delicate frown.”
Is this the song?
To Chai Xiao, it should have been, “Beyond the green hills and outer towers, when will the singing and dancing by West Lake end? Warm winds intoxicate the visitors, making Hangzhou seem like Bianzhou.”
He, the newly invested lord, had been bullied to what extent?
At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before Da Xu was swallowed by other vassal states!
And they still had the heart to sing?
Well, his mind and body had belonged to that useless Ninth Prince until now—now, it was truly his own.
From this day forward, he would govern diligently and strive for strength!
Of course, the civil and military officials had come to celebrate, and the proper ceremonies must be observed.
Chai Xiao fixed his gaze on the delicacies arrayed on the long table.
Braised sea cucumber with pork tendons, stewed deer tail, steamed camel hump, carp tongue with bear paw, chicken soup with bird’s nest—all costly dishes.
He took a sip of wine.
Smooth, not greasy; spicy, not harsh—a true nectar of the world.
Even in this remote place, as a vassal lord, some ostentation was essential.
But if these expenses were saved and invested in training troops and selecting officers, soon Da Xu would be transformed!
Where there is a will, there is a way: break the cauldrons and sink the boats; the gates of Qin would belong to Chu.
He who perseveres is never forsaken by Heaven: sleeping on brushwood and tasting gall, three thousand Yue troops could conquer Wu.
“Ahem!”
Chai Xiao heard a soft cough from a woman and looked up.
Seated to his left, in ceremonial attire, was a beautiful consort—his mother, Consort Yun Shu.
He moved his throat, wanting to speak but unable to, and saw her head bowed.
She was probably thoroughly disappointed in her useless son.
Consort Yun Shu had, when Emperor Yuan was still a prince, been merely a maidservant.
At seventeen, in the bloom of youth, she caught the prince’s eye and was taken.
As he ascended to the throne, she strove to learn poetry and etiquette, but her humble birth kept her ranked only as a consort.
Later, she bore a son.
She had hoped that motherhood would bring her honor, but her son disappointed, and she remained merely Consort Shu—never the Imperial Consort.
Regardless, filial piety comes first; respect for one’s mother is never wrong.
In future, one could establish an army, speech, even a nation, upon filial piety!
Chai Xiao held his wine cup with both hands, bowed deeply, and addressed her: “Mother, your son thanks you for your toil and offers you this cup.”
“Oh?”
Consort Yun Shu was startled.
Her useless son, suddenly so formal? Had he come to his senses?
Thinking of the hardships she’d endured, she sighed.
Normally abstaining from wine, she broke her habit and took a cup.
Chai Xiao drained his cup in one gulp.
He set the cup down, then lowered himself, hands and knees to the floor, kowtowing: “Thank you for giving me life and raising me!”
His personal eunuch, Zhang Bao, nudged his heel from behind, gesturing urgently.
---
“Oh! What has happened to my son today?” Consort Yun Shu smiled gently, helping Chai Xiao up.
“In the past, you would kneel on one knee; why such a great ceremony now? Is it because you’ve seen the beautiful dancers and wish your mother to arrange a marriage for you?”
Was marriage on his mind? Well, marrying a pretty wife wouldn’t be bad—training troops and love, both accomplished.
Still, better to fulfill his filial duties first.
Only now did Chai Xiao realize why Zhang Bao had kicked his heel.
The ceremony was too grand.
By royal protocol, princes kneel on both knees only to the emperor and empress; for their mothers, even birth mothers, only one knee suffices.
Ever since antiquity, propriety mattered in Huaxia—one misstep was unacceptable!
Chai Xiao tensed, unsure how to remedy his error.
Royal etiquette was complicated—he couldn’t grasp it.
But perhaps, better to abandon it altogether.
Thinking quickly, he shuffled forward on his knees and suddenly hugged Consort Yun Shu’s legs.
“Mother!”
With that word, the hall fell silent.
Could one behave so at an investiture ceremony?
Chai Xiao looked up, anxious.
His mother’s expression revealed she was deeply touched.
So it was permissible!
The worry in her face melted into a smile.
Whenever she thought of her son being sent to such a desolate place, she felt a nameless anger.
But today’s display brought her joy!
By custom, a son need only kneel on one knee.
On an investiture day, holding the cup and bowing was sufficient.
Yet he knelt on both knees, and even crawled to embrace her—a gesture from common folk.
Among the people, such customs were no fault.
The founder of Great Qi had humble origins, rising from the masses.
Such a gesture was more intimate, showing greater respect for kinship.
That cry of “Mother” was deeply moving!
This useless child—how had he become so endearing today?
Sweet as red bean paste!