Legend of Fu Yao

Xiao Dao recalled when Meng Fuyao had held her cold hands outside of Deepspring Brothel. She also remembered when Meng Fuyao would cover her up at night and apply medication on the wounds that were inflicted by the brothel keeper. In contrast, the man in a white robe would look at her in a way that made her uncomfortable. She couldn’t understand it, but her instincts had helped her distinguish between kindness and hostility.

And this man here was probably Meng Fuyao’s love interest. The latter often avoided looking at him, but when they did exchange glances, it was similar to those shared between her own parents.

Xiao Dao bit her lips, thinking about her mother, who had to work barefooted in the winter months. She also thought about the barren land on which her tribesmen were residing, and how no one had been able to fill their tummy.

If not for that, would she have been stolen by the greedy man who then child-trafficked her and sold her into such a dirty place?

Her heart hardened again.

“I’ll kill you,” she declared calmly, each syllabus sounding like a nail. She tried hard to recall the words of the brave soldiers on the grassland, “If you’re afraid, you can kill me now.”

Meng Fuyao burst into laughter.

While angry over Xiao Dao’s naivety, Meng Fuyao simply couldn’t pull a black face in response to her willful expression. Seeing this girl make such an adult-like vow reminded Meng Fuyao of her own stubbornness. She had, too, ever run to the end of a deep valley in Taiyuan and shouted to the heavens, “I’m going to return one day! Take me again if you dare!”

Her eyes turned moist suddenly upon recalling the dreams of her youth, the mutability of fate, and the determined vow she had made despite being uncertain about whether it was worth it.

Yuan Zhaoxu was smiling slightly as well. He walked over suddenly and untied a jade tablet, handing it over to Xiao Dao.

“I do not sympathize with your father’s plight. A true leader is one that is able to protect himself and his people – someone he isn’t. Dao Naier, do you think you can become the real king of the northern and southern Rong tribe and seize the land that rightfully belongs to your father?”

Dao Naier grasped the jade tablet tightly, looking him straight in the eye and shouted, “I can!”

“Very good.” Yuan Zhaoxu smiled. “The Rong tribes will be unified, and having a female king isn’t such a bad thing. Before that, though, you’re only Dao Naier, the daughter of an exiled king. You have to restart in order to get what you want.”

“I can wait!”

“Those with patience will eventually succeed,” Yuan Zhaoxu advised meaningfully, his smile akin to the flowing clouds above the horizon. “When that time comes and you, Dao Naier, still want to kill me, bring your unified army here. Till then, you’re not yet fit to challenge me to a battle.”

“I will find you.”

…

In Wuji, on the 11th year under King De’s reign, which was on the 8th of December. It was the first time that the allied army had experienced such a huge loss since the start of the war – their main tent was burnt, and the 3,000 soldiers had disappeared mysteriously. 3,000 lives had burst like a bubble, completely and soundlessly lost to the ocean without even the slightest ripple; it was as if 3,000 men weren’t significant enough to fill a vast public square, but they were just petals of a flower that had simply withered.

That night where the Rongs worshiped their God was also the night that the citizens hadn’t gotten their God’s blessings and protection.

This war came to be the subject of intensive analysis for future historians and military scientists, but none were able to unravel the marvel within it. If they had known that the disappearance of 3,000 men was due to one man, perhaps they wouldn’t have needed to label it as a miracle despite racking their brains for a long time.

Some people did not believe in miracles, because they themselves were the creators of miracles.

What the mortals were unaware of was that on that day, the future ruler of the grassland, with her endless courage and determination, would receive a real crown from a real king.

History rushed forward, and those destined to leave their trace went on their individual journeys.

…

Meng Fuyao had been leading good days.

Ever since her Emotion Lock had relapsed, she had been ordered by Yuan Zhaoxu to recuperate. Amid her recuperation, she was pleasantly surprised to find that there was something in the poison that was actually strengthening her endurance whenever her channels got attacked by it. While she was recovering slowly, it was much more substantial.

Yuan Zhaoxu would slip into her room every night – not for lovemaking, of course – and Meng Fuyao wasn’t sure what he was up to. All she knew was that his appearance meant instant sleep for her, no matter what she was doing at that point. She would fall into a dreamless sleep and wake up with a body-ache. If her clothes weren’t intact, she would believe that she must have had 3,000 rounds of battle with Yuan Zhaoxu. Plus, seeing that Yuan Zhaoxu looked rather haggard at times, she would be led to suspect that she must have thrashed him in all 3,000 rounds.

She had questioned what he had been doing and had even warned him that he wasn’t allowed to touch her anywhere between her nose to her knees. However, all Yuan Zhaoxu did was smile and answer, “How about you focus on not touching me anywhere between my nose and knees before you start pleading?”

While highly doubtful, Meng Fuyao started re-evaluating her moral quality. While she was confident that she would never do that when awake, being asleep was another matter… Could she have done it because she had mistaken him for Lord Yuan Bao? Or perhaps Yuan Zhaoxu was the one who had guided her hands all over him?

After long deliberation, Meng Fuyao was enlightened and maintained that if she didn’t know about it, it did not happen, regardless of who the victim really was.

As such, Mayor Meng, who had been sleeping well, eating well, and had nothing to worry about, gradually turned fairer and plumper, as if trying to become more like Lord Yuan Bao.

During that time, Yuan Zhaoxu left and took Xiao Dao with him, and perhaps looked for Guo Pingrong. Meng Fuyao did not ask about Xiao Dao’s whereabouts as she believed that they would be reunited once more, and she would’ve turned into a whole different person.

The expression on Yuan Zhaoxu’s face upon his return told her that Guo Pingrong wasn’t in possession of the antidote. That night was a rare occasion as he did not immediately put her to sleep, but instead, he stroked her hair gently and reassured her, “I’ll find it, Fuyao.”

Heartless, she answered, “I’ll look for Fang Shimo myself and teach him a lesson. A teacher has to be responsible for nurturing a bad disciple.”

Yuan Zhaoxu smiled lightly, asking, “Then should I also look for your teacher and teach him a lesson for bringing up someone who’s not right in the mind?”

“You’re not right in the mind!” Meng Fuyao sprung up, shouting. “There’s nothing right about you!”

She howled, kicked and smashed, laughed and jumped and hit, eventually chasing Yuan Zhaoxu out the door.

Upon closing the door, she leaned against it, letting out a deep breath, her smiling face instantly dimming.

She had tried hard to use her laughter to conceal the graveness of the situation, but it was getting harder every day.

She continued resting against the door, unaware that Yuan Zhaoxu was standing on the other side and looking down, evidently worried.

…

The Han citizens were getting ready for the new year, unlike the Rong people, who only regarded the God-worshipping festival as significant. As such, the number of Rong people on the streets increased as the youths strolled about with an abundance of energy but nowhere to release it. They were no different from a barrel full of gunpowder. Where a large volume of people gathered, there was bound to be friction and fights.

Meng Fuyao was still an idle youth. Biting on her fingers and thinking about how to control the surging hormones of these energetic youths, she caught sight of Lord Yuan Bao playing with a ball. The ball was big, and Yuan Bao was small. As they rolled here and there, Meng Fuyao couldn’t tell the difference between the ball and the guinea pig.

Vexed, she reached a hand out to intervene when Lord Yuan Bao immediately grabbed his ball and moved away. From what she saw, Lord Yuan Bao seemed to be on his period and was feeling exceptionally repulsed by her.

Meng Fuyao had nothing to do but to get lost in her crazy thoughts. Before her arrival, the World Cup was about to start, and she had placed her bets on Argentina, or rather, Messi, whom she had been drooling over since forever. Now she had no idea whose leg had made the last kick into the runner up’s goal.

Whosoever leg it was, it couldn’t have been China’s… Thoughts ran through her head, and she jumped up suddenly and called for Yao Xun. After some gesturing, Yao Xun left, somewhat muddle-headedly.

A few days later Yao Xun reported that he had already drawn out a piece of land in the west side of the public square. He had also recruited 22 youths from the Rong tribe and split them into two teams. Following Meng Fuyao’s orders, he had specially picked two formidable Rongsmen, who were working under the leaders and did not get along as well.

Mayor Meng rode on her horse and announced, “Rong citizens, the first ever soccer team in the whole of the 5 Region Continent has been born!”

“From now on, the loser team will be called China’s men soccer!”

“From now on, address me as the Chairperson of the Five Regions’ Soccer Alliance.”

It had to be said that this idea of hers was decent, and as the most fashionable sports, soccer did have its unique charm. At the very least, it was a sport that interested the Rongsmen, who were full of vigor. These men battled it out on the soccer field and were spurred on by a lovely cheerleading squad, specially put together by Chairman Meng. Wherever their skirts swayed, the competition became a ground for people watching and gossiping.

As such, when Tie Cheng, the handsome looking youth, had a mini brawl with Mu Muha one day, he instantly became the subject of discussion between the beautiful ladies, which led to a statement made by Chairman Meng, “The hand of mine that has been on your crotch has never been gentler…”