Legend of Fu Yao

Suddenly, Meng Fuyao stopped short of completing her sentence. The bright light shone, and her clothes could be clearly seen – there was a dudou ¹ on her body!

The pink dudou was embroidered with lotus leaves and a pair of mandarin ducks. Under the light, the fabric was as smooth as water, and the luster was captivating.

On Zhan Beiheng’s face, it was clear that his expression conveyed his thoughts. ‘Adulterers! You’re even wearing the dudou of my favored concubine, how dare you deny that something’s not going on between you two?’

Meng Fuyao was grief-stricken – it was pitch-black, but how could she have grabbed the dudou out of all things!?

In the meantime, the ninth wife covered her face and whimpered. Her cries annoyed Meng Fuyao so much to the extent that the latter climbed down the bed and grabbed her clothes to go.

Furious that she was just going to leave so casually, Zhan Beiheng barked, “Take him down!”

Hence, Meng Fuyao was subdued, but she did not even resist. With a sound of “gudong”, she collapsed onto the floor and slept again.

Looking down at Meng Fuyao – who reeked of alcohol – Zhan Beiheng wondered why she did not counter. ‘With his martial arts skills, if he really wanted to forcefully barge out, who could stop him? If he really did, I’d just have to deal with it, since family shames shouldn’t be spread to the public. But now that he’s so easily subdued, what should I do? Should I really send him to the central jail in Pandu? What crime should this be considered? If I let everyone know about the real reason, I’d be the one who would be embarrassed.’

As he contemplated, he looked at the shameless person who was in a deep slumber, shot daggers at the weeping ninth wife, and waved his hand.

“Lock them in the firewood store!”

Meng Fuyao was locked up in the store, and she wrote her letter of repentance.

Sprawled on the ground, she used the ninth wife’s dudou as paper and the burnt coal in the store as her ink. Solemnly, she wrote.

“I’m truly dumb, really I am. I knew that one’s self-control would be low after getting drunk, and would cause misunderstandings that are neither controllable nor predictable, but I didn’t expect that to occur to me. That night, I was drunk and felt that the surroundings were too warm, so I took off my robes. Then, the ninth wife saw me and was probably scared that I’d catch a cold. Being the virtuous woman she was – she always remembered each time the servants took off their clothes – she pulled me away to give me clothes. I didn’t want to wear them and wanted to go home, but she refused, and we wrestled each other. After a while, I realized that my clothes had suddenly all fallen and my outer robe was gone, but I knew that my robe would never go missing without any reason. I panicked after a futile search and fumbled around the bed until late into the night. When I saw a sparkly cloth at the corner of the bedsheet, I thought that I finally found it, and so I wore it. The fabric was similar, but the design was different, and there were even flowers embroidered on it… I’m truly dumb, really I am.”

After completing her letter, she cautiously handed it over to the guard watching over the firewood store, so that he could send it to the Prince. The dudou was stacked on top, and the guard could not help but steal a glance at it when he was walking, and he ended up spraining his ankle. When he handed both the letter and the dudou to Zhan Beiheng, the latter was sipping on tea. Halfway through reading the letter, he spat out a mouthful of tea.

This legendary letter somehow reached the ears of people outside of the Prince’s residence, and it spread like wildfire in Pandu. It became a sensational topic, and when people in Pandu greeted each other in the morning, the usual saying of “have you eaten?” changed to “I’m truly dumb, I really am.”

Additionally, during even midnight, Meng Fuyao would definitely climb out of the windows to steal some alcohol from the neighboring kitchen. After drinking, she would shout “I’m truly dumb, I really am!”, causing Zhan Beiheng to start having migraines. He would lose face if he just released her, but if he didn’t, he would unknowingly become the laughing stock of the town. Meng Fuyao still acted innocent, while the ninth wife just wept, refusing to talk. He was now in a Catch-22 situation. Because of this, he secretly cursed at the guard who woke him up. If he knew that things would turn out this way, he would have just let them get away with it, and things would have been fine.

While the dudou story spread widely in Pandu, the captain who committed adultery continued shouting in the firewood store, causing Prince Heng to become very anxious. On the third day, someone finally came to ease him of his predicament – Zhan Nancheng had summoned for Meng Fuyao.

The next morning, a “butler” came to request for a meeting in front of the Prince’s residence, and the attendants at the door did not dare to slight him. Speedily, they reported to Zhan Beiheng, who instantly felt very relieved as he could finally chase that God of Plagues out of his firewood store. The “butler” smiled as he waited in the garden, and Zhan Beiheng glanced at him from time to time. He felt that though this person had a dull appearance, he was tall and calm, and had a great composure. Though he was standing humbly in one corner, everyone who passed by would spot him at their first glance, and could not help but steal a few more glances. Furthermore, during the earlier conversation between them, he neither passed off as inferior nor rude, and his formalities were complete. How did that horrid Meng Fuyao find such a talent?

After a few moments, Meng Fuyao walked out in a state of drunkenness. When she saw the “butler”, she narrowed her eyes and stopped in her tracks, as though she wanted to run and escape. However, seeing that Zhan Beiheng was still watching her, she grinned and greeted the “butler”.

“You’re here,” she said.

The “butler” smiled and slightly bowed. “Master, are you feeling well? I have come to receive you,” he replied.

In his sub-consciousness, Zhan Beiheng thought that Meng Fuyao shivered, but he quickly confirmed that he was only seeing things.

Meng Fuyao beamed and agreed. Then, Meng Fuyao walked over to grab the sleeves and staggered as she bowed. “Thank you, Your Highness, I’ll… erm, I’ll make my way first,” she said.

The butler flipped his hand to grab Meng Fuyao’s palm and held her as she slowly walked out. However, Zhan Beiheng suddenly said coldly, “Going off just like that?”

Both people looked back. Meng Fuyao was very drunk and not as fast as the butler, who smiled and asked, “Your Highness, what other instructions do you have?”

Zhan Beiheng raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Bring her away,” he said, and he clapped his hands. A gentle and beautiful lady covered with a cloak slowly walked out of the inner room.

It was the ninth wife.

Instantly, Meng Fuyao’s face turned ashen. Waving her hands in denial, she said, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no…”

Looking at her, Zhan Beiheng could not decide whether to laugh or be angry. “Captain Meng, do you really think that I’ll want a woman that you have set your hands on before?”

“I’m wronged…” cried Meng Fuyao as she leaped towards Zhan Beiheng’s knees. “I have never touched a hair of hers, much less set my hands on her. I’m truly dumb, I really am-”

“Stop!” Zhan Beiheng quickly interrupted. Grumpily, he said, “Captain Meng, you’re playing it too far. You should have directly told me that you favored the ninth lady. Would I not be willing to let you have her? Why do you have to do such a discreet act? Aren’t the rumors spreading in Pandu unpleasant enough?”

“I’m truly dumb, I really am-”

“Stop!” Zhan Beiheng waved his hand and instructed, “Go now, her fate will be at your disposal.”

Looking up, Meng Fuyao innocently asked, “Can I not want her?”

“You can.” Zhan Beiheng smiled coldly. Handing over a sword, he added, “Then, Captain, help me kill this woman, and save me the trouble of dirtying my hands.”

Meng Fuyao’s cheerfulness was quickly deflated. “Alright then.”

The butler looked at Meng Fuyao with what seemed like a smile and said, “Congratulations, Master, seems like I have to plan a wedding for you.”

Dumbfoundedly, Meng Fuyao laughed and burped. Throwing her weight on the butler, she muttered, “Go do what has to be done.”

Staring at Meng Fuyao for a moment, the butler carried her in his arms and apologized to Zhan Beiheng, “Your Highness, excuse us.”

Zhan Beiheng waved his hands hurriedly, to quickly chase them away.

With Meng Fuyao in his arms, the butler entered a palanquin and did not forget to instruct for one more palanquin for the ninth wife. He chose not to leave and sat steadily while hugging Meng Fuyao. “Master, feigning drunkenness will not let you escape from punishment,” he said.

Meng Fuyao squinted and grinned. She was really drunk; these few days, to escape the watch of a particular person in the residence, and to complete the act as a useless Captain, she drank to her heart’s content. Hence, her mind was in an elated and dreamy state. Flowers looked red, the sky looked blue, the top of the palanquin looked like it was revolving, and the green-robed Zhangsun Wuji looked cold from the outside.

Placing her hand against his chest, she tilted her head and grinned from ear to ear. “Zhangsun Wuji, why do I feel that you look more alluring wearing this green robe and small hat, compared to when you’re donning formal wear?”

“Really?” Zhangsun Wuji questioned her lightheartedly. Today, this person, who was usually adamant in rejecting intimate physical contact, was finally not aware of her posture – both were sitting in the palanquin, and Meng Fuyao was on his knees. She was curled up in his arms, and her slightly pink face was on his shoulder. Both her hair and expression were soft and lingering, replicating the melancholy feel of alcohol, and even her breath had an intoxicating scent to it.

The drunk Meng Fuyao, the Meng Fuyao who did not realize that she was in a dangerous position, finally had a rare moment whereby she temporarily forgot about going back home. How could he not taste her?

That would be a lost opportunity for him, who had waited for too long and dared not to flirt with her, for fear of triggering the Emotion Lock.

Anyway, she was the one who said, “Go do what has to be done”.

Smiling, Zhangsun Wuji flipped over Meng Fuyao in that small space which was carefully chosen before, and Meng Fuyao ended up beneath him. That position allowed him to exert absolute strength of his body, and successfully take up all the space that Meng Fuyao could move in.

His knees were against hers, and his arm held her neck as though he was embracing a soft cloud. Her black hair poured down like a stream of water, and it felt as smooth as silk against his skin.

He smiled, and his eyes were like clear alcohol, reflecting her own misty eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, and her radiating youthfulness seemed to eternally pause at that moment.

Uttering, she tried to push him away. “Zhangsun Wuji, don’t take advantage of people…”

But he bent down even lower…

A gust of wind seemed to breeze from a faraway plateau, and it swept past her forehead. The gust cast visualizations of the lush greenery in spring, the aromatic lotuses in summer, the flowy chrysanthemums in autumn, and the thick layers of snow in winter. Her surroundings seemed as vivid, beautiful and ever-changing as the four seasons. The wind continued to travel by her, bringing about images of tall mountains, low gullies, and territories that spanned miles away. On the meandering paths, the cotton-like rain of spring continued to pour into her world.

Suddenly, Meng Fuyao felt suffocated and could not help but slightly open her mouth to get more fresh air. However, an agile fish swam into her territory instead and traversed into the sacred places never explored before. He tasted soft and clear, resembling the taste of almonds, which would first induce a slightly bitter but refreshing feel, and then create a beautiful aftertaste that would continue to linger in the mouth. Not forceful but ever-present, and with a low-profile radiance… it was the scent of a King.