Chapter Four: Contending for Supremacy (Part One)

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I. Wei Qin Sets Out

The night before Wei Qin’s departure, Xiang Bao could not sleep for a long time. She only drifted into a hazy slumber near dawn. Once again, the nightmares came—she dreamt of Wei Qin being swallowed by a blood-red marsh that exuded a chilling, macabre stench.

The morning sunlight was gentle, yet it still disturbed Xiang Bao’s light sleep.

“Madam, breakfast is ready.” Xile called softly at the door.

Restless, Xiang Bao paced back and forth several times before finally bursting out of the palace gates.

“Madam! Madam!” Xile turned her head and, not seeing Xiang Bao, gave a start.

She boarded a carriage and rode all the way to the city gates. Alighting, Xiang Bao squinted against the sunlight. There, beneath the brilliant rays, stood Wei Qin clad in armor and a crimson cloak, beside his warhorse. Behind him, a dense mass of Wu soldiers exuded an indescribable aura of power.

“Forward!” Wei Qin mounted his horse, cloak blazing like fire, and shouted in a booming voice.

“Yes!” The soldiers responded as one, raising their long halberds and echoing his command.

Halberds struck the ground, reverberating thunderously. The crowd seeing them off was stirred by the martial might. Beneath the scorching sun, Wei Qin led his men away, never once looking back.

“That Wei Qin, truly worthy of being the heir of Yao Li,” someone murmured behind Xiang Bao.

The voice was familiar—listening closely, she realized it was Wu Zixu.

“A tiger father begets no dog sons,” another replied.

“Indeed, neither arrogant nor rash, always seeking counsel—he has the bearing of a great general,” Wu Zixu said, evidently pleased.

“So, the Left Commander sought out the Prime Minister?”

“Last night, that young man came to the old man. It’s rare for an orphan raised in such circumstances to remain so humble and courteous. He even asked me the art of war,” Wu Zixu added, his tone full of admiration for Wei Qin.

A faint smile curved Xiang Bao’s lips.

“Madam, the sun is fierce—mind your condition,” a voice suddenly called as a shadow fell over her, blocking the sunlight.

A large hand gently caressed her belly. Xiang Bao looked up into a pair of deep-set eyes.

“Thank you,” she murmured, placing her hand atop his and leaning into his embrace.

“Let’s return to the palace.”

“Mm.”

In September, the king and courtiers of Yue entered Wu to offer congratulations and wish for victory over Qi.

“The King of Yue and Minister Fan are both here…”

“I’ve seen Minister Fan—so handsome.”

“Heh, you’re smitten, aren’t you?”

“I heard… our Lady Xi Shi was once Minister Fan’s betrothed—how did that change…”

Standing at the window, Xiang Bao absentmindedly stroked her growing belly, lost in thought as she watched the palace maids come and go.

“Enough!” Xile stepped forward, sharply silencing their gossip.

Though the maids hadn’t seen Xiang Bao at the window, Xile’s authority as her personal attendant was unquestioned, and the others fell silent.

Xiang Bao had already left the room, head bowed, wandering to the lotus pond. A chilly breeze swept by, carrying the first hint of autumn; most of the lotus blossoms had withered. How swiftly the seasons changed—nearly two months since Wei Qin’s departure. How was he now? Last night, she dreamt of him again, his smile radiant. In the dream, she had tugged his ear fiercely, warning him through gritted teeth to return alive, threatening that if he dared die, she would kill him herself…

Her lips were curled in a bittersweet smile, her eyes stinging. She rubbed her eyes and suddenly felt a flutter within her belly—a start that made her gasp. Instinctively, she caressed her rounded stomach, as if she could sense the tiny life breathing inside her. Her lips arched in an unconscious smile, a sweet warmth flooding her heart—she was going to be a mother.

A mother… she was really going to be a mother.

That night, deep in sleep, Xiang Bao suddenly awoke to find several shadowy figures standing at her bedside.

“Who are you?” She noticed her attendant, meant to keep watch, lying motionless on the floor and sat up in panic.

The shadows laughed darkly.

“Look at her belly!” came a deliberately low, malicious sneer.

Xiang Bao shuddered, clutching her stomach protectively.

“It must be the bastard seed of that fool King Fuchai…” The voice dripped with contempt as its owner raised a gleaming sword, thrusting it straight at her belly.

“No!” Xiang Bao squeezed her eyes shut, shielding her abdomen as she screamed.

A figure suddenly swept in through the window—a flash of swordlight, a scream. Xiang Bao opened her eyes to see a severed arm fall beside her, blood splattering across her face.

Stupefied, she stared at the hand, still gripping the sword.

The intruder, face masked, moved with lethal precision—cutting hands, not killing. The room filled with shrieks, finally rousing the guards. The door crashed open.

“Madam! Madam!” Xile burst in, only to scream at the carnage, wavering on her feet, nearly fainting.

The floor was strewn with black-clad men, both arms severed. They writhed in agony, yet still lived.

The masked man, seeing people enter, vaulted out the same window he had come through. Xiang Bao stared after him in a daze. He turned to look back at her, and she recognized his eyes—him…

Fan Li? Why was he here at such a moment?

The assassination attempt disturbed Fuchai, who had been feasting with the Yue court, and he hurried to Guanwa Palace that night.

“Your Majesty, it must have been the Yue! How coincidental that trouble struck just as they arrived in Wu!”

From afar, Xiang Bao heard Wu Zixu’s voice. Coupled with Fan Li’s appearance, she suddenly understood.

Killing two birds with one stone—so ruthless.

Wu Zixu had seized the opportunity of the Yue king’s visit to send assassins—aiming both to eliminate her and her unborn child, and to frame Yue in the process.

But… With pale lips, Xiang Bao smiled as she looked toward the open window. Too bad the King of Yue was more cunning, foreseeing this, and sent Fan Li to intervene.

No deaths, only severed hands—leaving witnesses, making even the frame-up impossible. Brilliant.

Fuchai ignored Wu Zixu’s incessant complaints and strode into the room. Seeing Xiang Bao seated safely on the bed, he finally breathed easy.

Wu Zixu, upon seeing the armless assassins, fell silent.

Xiang Bao could not help but laugh, her blood-spattered, pale face breaking into uncontrollable mirth at the sight of the maimed men. Xile, already terrified, was even more frightened by her mistress’s eerie laughter. Had the lady gone mad?

Fuchai frowned slightly but walked over, ignoring the wailing men at his feet. He picked up the bloodied severed hand and tossed it aside as if it were rubbish, then wiped the blood from Xiang Bao’s face with his sleeve. “Stop laughing.”

She stilled, looked up at him, and promptly collapsed into his arms.

Cradling the unconscious Xiang Bao, Fuchai turned to the stunned Xile. “Fetch the physician.”

“Yes!” Xile started and hurried away.

Because of the attack on Guanwa Palace, Shi Lian had been ordered to come with guards. Arriving at the gates, he saw a figure darting over the wall.

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“Who goes there? Stop!” Shi Lian shouted, sword drawn as he gave chase.

“It’s me,” Fan Li answered in a low voice.

Shi Lian paused, sheathed his sword, and frowned. “Why are you here?”

Fan Li did not answer.

“You’re reckless to show up now—do you want to get her killed?” Shi Lian’s voice deepened, then he startled. “Wait… Are you the assassin?”

“No. I don’t know who sent them. Go see for yourself,” Fan Li said, then melted into the darkness.

Shi Lian, gripping his sword, entered Guanwa Palace. Seeing the carnage, even he was taken aback.

“What are you waiting for? Clean up this room,” Fuchai said flatly.

“These men—”

“Drag them out, flay them piece by piece until they name their master.”

“Yes,” Shi Lian said, bowing his head.

Wu Zixu’s expression changed subtly as he stood by.

Under the moonlight, Fan Li returned to his quarters.

“Minister Fan.” A voice sounded abruptly.

Fan Li turned to see Goujian seated in the garden.

“Come, drink with me,” Goujian gestured to the wine on the stone table.

Fan Li sat before him.

“So late—where did Minister Fan go?” Goujian handed him a cup, his manner casual.

Fan Li said nothing, only drank.

“You saw her?” Goujian sipped his wine and smiled. “Visiting her at a time like this—not like you.”

“Were the assassins in Guanwa Palace sent by Your Majesty?” Fan Li suddenly looked up, eyes unusually bright and sharp.

Goujian hesitated. “Assassins?”

“Mm.” Fan Li lowered his gaze. “I thought not, so I left Fuchai a live witness.”

Goujian instinctively narrowed his eyes. Was this a threat? If he had sent the assassins and Fan Li intervened, leaving witnesses, it would have left him exposed. Downing his cup, Goujian rose, clapped Fan Li on the shoulder, and laughed, “Minister Fan is indeed clever. Clearly, someone wanted to frame Yue and me—but leaving witnesses makes that impossible. How ingenious!”

Fan Li was momentarily stunned—did Xiang Bao think so too?

“It’s late. Rest, Minister Fan. Wu is no place to linger. Since we’ve shown our goodwill, we should return to Yue soon,” Goujian said, turning away.

Under the moon, Fan Li lingered in his white robe. He had only wanted a glimpse of her, nothing more. To think, if not for his visit, those assassins might have succeeded… Yet, today’s danger was all because of him.

He had personally brought her to harm.

When Xiang Bao awoke, her first reflex was to touch her belly.

“Madam, you’re awake?” After a day’s vigil, Xile was overjoyed to see her wake.

“The child…”

“The child is fine,” Xile assured her.

Xiang Bao breathed a sigh of relief.

In the days that followed, Fuchai became suddenly busy, while Goujian, Fan Li, and their entourage returned to Yue.

Because of the attack, Fuchai ordered Shi Lian to lead troops and guard Guanwa Palace, much to Wu Zixu’s dissatisfaction—but, as always, Fuchai ignored him.

Shi Lian, being strict and methodical, dutifully guarded the gates of Guanwa Palace like a temple guardian.

“General Shi, Madam requests your presence,” Xile said for the nth time.

Shi Lian maintained his icy silence, much to Xile’s dismay—he was so cold he could freeze someone to death. No matter how many times Madam sent her, he simply ignored her.

Seeing Xile return crestfallen again, Xiang Bao snorted, wrapped herself in a robe, and went herself.

“General Shi…” Xiang Bao pinched her nose, standing behind him.

Shi Lian’s brow twitched as he glanced at her. “Madam, mind your status.”

“Huh, I have status?” Xiang Bao blinked innocently. “Why do you ignore me when I send for you?”

“What does Madam want?” he asked, barely containing his annoyance.

“Since you’re idle standing here, why not teach me to read?” Xiang Bao smiled.

“Shi Lian’s duty is to protect Madam.”

Seeing his strictly businesslike manner, Xiang Bao rolled her eyes and sneezed.

“It’s cold. Madam should go inside,” Shi Lian said, frowning.

“Sigh, how pitiful not to be literate—looked down on by all…” Xiang Bao muttered.

Shi Lian glanced at the woman bundled up like a ball, with another ball on her belly, sniffling pitifully.

Resigned, Shi Lian sat at the desk and wrote two characters. He had no idea why he let her sway him, sitting here foolishly teaching her to read.

Xiang Bao craned her neck, stared blankly, then made a face. “How unoriginal! That’s just my name. Can’t you pick something deeper?”

Why does everyone start with names when teaching literacy? Hmph!

A vein throbbed on Shi Lian’s forehead—patience, patience…

“Xi—Shi?” Xile, standing by, read the characters aloud.

Shi Lian had written “Xiang Bao.” Hearing Xile, he was startled, then quickly crossed out the words and wrote others.

“What’s this? Looks familiar!” Xiang Bao asked.

“Guanwa Palace,” Shi Lian replied coolly.

No wonder—it was her palace’s name. Xiang Bao giggled.

After a few more characters, Xiang Bao yawned, drowsy. Shi Lian, still writing, looked up to see her nodding off on her feet.

“Uh, Madam probably didn’t sleep well last night…” Xile hurried to explain.

“Idiot,” Shi Lian muttered disdainfully, and walked out.

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Xile was left alone, her mouth twitching as she stared at her mistress, who was drooling in her sleep. Sighing, Xile went to support her swaying lady. “Madam, let’s get you back to bed.”

She slept until nightfall.

When she awoke, Xiang Bao found herself lying in Fuchai’s arms. He was propped on one elbow, watching her—it was unclear when he had arrived.

“You’re awake?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “You were fast asleep.”

Resting on his arm, Xiang Bao blinked drowsily. “Why are you here?”

“Hmm…” His hand grew restless.

Xiang Bao shivered, her mouth twitching. “What… what are you doing?”

“You really are untutored in the ways of love, Madam… This kind of thing…” He breathed into her ear, “It’s something that can only be felt, not spoken… How could I bring myself to say it…”

His long fingers caressed her flushed cheeks; cool lips brushed her forehead, eyelids, nose tip, and finally lingered on her lips, licking, nibbling.

“So warm…” he whispered by her ear, sighing.

Her collar, somehow undone, revealed her to his gaze, his narrow eyes fathomless. One hand traced over her body, lingering at her rounded belly.

“I hear childbirth is very painful,” he murmured unexpectedly.

Xiang Bao forced a laugh. Wasn’t that obvious? And—who discussed childbirth in such a strange posture?

“Whatever you say, I’m not giving up! I will have this child!” she said defiantly, baring her teeth at him.

He dropped the odd topic and bent to kiss her gently.

“Mm, I’m looking forward to it…”

Xiang Bao didn’t know when she fell asleep. In her dreams, she felt someone watching her.

She seemed to hear a whisper at her ear, but was too tired to catch the words. Halfway through the night, she shifted, hugging her warm pillow, preparing to drift off again—when she felt something hard at her waist.

Her lashes fluttered—she instantly woke, but chose to feign sleep, ostrich-like.

“It’s already morning—why do you sleep so much?” He pinched her cheek, his breath close. Seeing her eyes closed, he chuckled, “Sleeping so soundly—even if I ate her now, she wouldn’t notice.”

Utterly lacking resolve, Xiang Bao’s eyes flew open, glaring her wakefulness, and met his amused face.

“Madam…” he began.

Xiang Bao, thinking he’d spout more nonsense, puffed up her cheeks in protest.

“I’m going to war,” he said.

Xiang Bao froze, as if bound by a spell.

Fuchai, startled, waved a hand before her face. “What’s wrong?”

Without a word, Xiang Bao bit his hand.

“Ow,” he winced.

Pain? Xiang Bao mimicked his raised brow, still biting, mumbling, “You’re not afraid of the battlefield, but pain scares you…”

“No one but Madam can make me feel pain,” he said quietly, his dark eyes intent. “No one but Madam can hurt me.”

Such certainty, such arrogance, such wild pride—yet it made Xiang Bao’s heart clench.

She released him, dazed. Two neat rows of teeth marks reddened his wrist.

“The third time.”

“Eh?” she looked at him in confusion.

“The third time you’ve bitten me.” He laughed. “Is my flesh that tasty?”

The first time, at the Wu camp, she’d bitten him before all the soldiers and Wu Zixu in a fit of pique.

The second, in Drunken Moon Pavilion, when he made her bandage his wound, she’d bitten him so he’d share the pain.

And now, the third.

She never knew he remembered so clearly.

“Are my eyes really as big as copper bells?” he asked with a sudden laugh.

“Yes, yes, and your arms are as thick as a bear’s, and you love eating people raw,” Xiang Bao recalled those ridiculous tales and burst out laughing.

He drew her into his arms. “There was actually another time—after that hunt…”

Xiang Bao blushed, recalling the banquet after the hunt, when he’d fed her venison, and she’d bitten his fingers too… then gotten drunk, and…

“The situation at the front has changed. The army against Qi has been decimated,” he said softly.

Xiang Bao’s face fell—Wei Qin…

“Your Majesty, General Wu has called for you three times,” Xile announced at the door.

Three times? When had that happened?

“Are you leaving now?”

“I’d hoped for a tender farewell, but Madam was fast asleep,” Fuchai said, helpless, rising and dressing.

Xiang Bao leaned on her pillow, watching his long hair cascade down. Fan Li had gone to war and returned with amnesia; Wei Qin had marched out, his fate unknown. Now… he too was leaving?

Noticing her gaze, Fuchai looked back. He held out his arms, robes loose, chest partly bared—a heady invitation.

That pose… Xiang Bao’s mouth twitched. Was he waiting for her to throw herself into his arms? Should she, in this moment, rush to him with tear-filled eyes and pour out her sorrow?

Seeing she did not move, Fuchai arched his brow and smiled, “Ah, I was just thinking, if Madam could lean into my arms and tenderly say, ‘I’ll wait for your return,’ then… even if I died, I’d hold on to my last breath—just to die in Madam’s embrace.”

A hole seemed to open in her heart. She knew he was exaggerating, yet, like a coward, she dressed and joined him, lowering her head into his embrace as he wished. This man… how hateful! Knowing her feelings, he still teased her relentlessly.

Grinding her teeth, she “tenderly” said, “I’ll wait for your return.”

Fuchai laughed, his eyes crinkling. “I will come back.”

She tied his sash for him. Xile had been waiting with armor in hand; Xiang Bao took it and dressed him, fastening the bright yellow cloak.

“No dying, no injuries, no bleeding—not even a single hair out of place,” she admonished as she dressed him.

Fuchai was momentarily taken aback, then smiled, “As Madam wishes.”

What sort of place was the battlefield? Fan Li, Wei Qin, Fuchai… She had seen too many men off to war. She did not go to see Fuchai off; she never wanted to see that departing figure again. The battlefield, to men, might be a sacred ground of loyalty and ambition—but to women, it was nothing short of a nightmare.

This was the conclusion Xiang Bao had drawn.