Chapter Seventy-Two: Truth and Falsehood, Open Schemes and Hidden Plots

Wu Sansi thought to himself, No matter which fortune stick I draw, whatever explanation you give me, I won’t believe it anyway! The only reason I came today was to give Princess Taiping some face—I have no intention of falling out with her just yet.

But why, exactly, did Taiping ask him to meet this Daoist? And why give him this particular fortune stick? Wu Sansi couldn’t make sense of it.

He glanced once more at the words inscribed on the stick:

Muddy waters breed the dragon’s path,
But waters too clear hold no fish.
In winter’s snow, the plum stands proud,
Its beauty unmatched, alluring and bold.

Why these four lines, of all things!?

“What’s the meaning of this!?” Wu Sansi’s expression darkened as he glared coldly at the Daoist Xiao.

“The Daoist is here only to interpret the fortune. Whether you believe it or not, that’s your own affair, Lord Sansi.”

“Very well!” The old Daoist saw the moment had ripened and dropped his pretense. Inwardly, he mused, You’re the one who insisted I speak.

His very first words left Wu Sansi reeling.

“Lord Wu, your ambitions are vast!” A sly, almost devilish smile played on the Daoist’s lips. “To hold the highest office is no longer enough for you—you harbor designs upon the ultimate throne itself, and possess the courage to ascend to the heavens. Am I wrong?”

“You…” Wu Sansi’s face went deathly pale.

“How dare you!” He sprang to his feet in fury, “You—demon Daoist! Spouting treasonous nonsense, slandering my good name!”

“I… I—!”

“I’ll kill you, and wash away this stain upon my honor!”

The old Daoist merely gave a calm, indifferent laugh, unmoved. “Why the haste, Lord Wu? In this great hall, it’s just the two of us. Even if word got out, who would believe it?”

“You!” Wu Sansi was in no mood to listen, his heart pounding, his composure shattered.

“Tell me—was this Taiping’s idea? Are you in league with her? What is your intent?”

“Alas!” The Daoist sighed deeply. “I must confess, I cannot interpret this fortune.”

He pushed the stick back across the table. “You’d best take it with you, Lord Wu. I won’t see you out.”

With that, he gave Wu Sansi no further glance, lowering his head to sip his tea.

“You may go, Lord Wu. After you return, you’re welcome to accuse me of insubordination and treason. That should clear your name.”

Hearing this, Wu Sansi’s gaze grew vacant as his mind raced.

In the end, he snatched up the fortune stick and turned to leave.

From where he stood, this was all Taiping’s scheme to slander him.

But just as he reached the hall’s doors, he heard the pointed voice of the sharp-mouthed Daoist drift behind him:

“A word of advice, Lord Wu: if a single fortune stick can so easily shake your resolve, you lack the depth to reach the end of your ambitions. You’d do well to abandon such thoughts while you still can.”

“You—!” Wasn’t this just plain mockery?

Furious, Wu Sansi spun around and stormed back, jabbing a finger at the Daoist’s nose. “You demon Daoist!”

He might as well have shouted: You’re not worthy! Give up now!

“Make yourself clear!” he demanded.

The old Daoist raised his head and gave a disdainful smile. “What, did I say something wrong?”

“It’s only a fortune stick, and I haven’t even interpreted it yet. All I did was voice a sliver of your true intentions, and already you’re so frightened. It seems…” He sighed sorrowfully. “It seems my junior placed his trust in the wrong man.”

“What do you mean? What did Taiping entrust to you?”

“Not to me—to you, Lord Wu!”

“…”
He panted heavily, his chest heaving, swaying as if about to collapse.

At last, with a sharp clap, he tossed the stick onto the table and slumped into a seat opposite the Daoist.

“Speak. What is it?”

The old Daoist burst into laughter, so heartily that Wu Sansi felt a chill.

When the laughter faded, he abruptly composed himself. “So, Lord Wu, you do wish to hear my interpretation after all?”

“And what if I do?” Wu Sansi snorted coldly, now calmer—curious what trick this so-called demon Daoist would play.

“Very well.” With the air of a victor, the Daoist finally picked up the fortune stick.

“Muddy waters breed the dragon’s path; waters too clear hold no fish.

“The dragon dwells in the depths, hidden in shadowy pools and turbid rivers. In waters so clear you can see the bottom, even fish cannot survive—how could a dragon? A dragon must bide its time, nurturing its strength in obscurity, until the moment comes to soar into the heavens!

“Do you understand, Lord Wu?”

Wu Sansi remained silent.

Without waiting for a reply, the Daoist moved to the next lines.

“In winter’s snow, the plum stands proud, its beauty unmatched, alluring and bold.

“Did you notice the plum blossoms blooming by the roadside as you climbed the mountain today, Lord Wu?”

“I did.”

The Daoist nodded. “In this bleak winter landscape, it is the only spot of red! Would you call it alluring?”

“I suppose so…”

“Eye-catching?”

“…”

“Unique among all?”

“…”

“But, Lord Wu, did you know? The poor villagers at the foot of the mountain pluck those very blossoms to adorn their humble cottages.”

“Tell me, then—do you think this splash of winter red is a blessing, or a curse?”

Wu Sansi fell silent.

After a long while, he finally raised his head to meet the Daoist’s gaze. “So you mean to say, being a plum blossom standing above the rest is not necessarily a good thing?”

“Roughly so.” The Daoist nodded, returning the stick to Wu Sansi.

“All those treasonous words I spoke just now—if your heart harbors no such ambitions, treat them as drunken ramblings. But…”

He shifted his tone. “If you still nurse those aspirations, then I offer you this counsel:

“Do not seek for the water to be without a hint of muddiness. Waters too clear breed no fish, and cannot sustain a dragon! Nor should you be the plum blossom—too alluring, and it’s the brightest branch that’s plucked first!”

Wu Sansi was now utterly absorbed in the Daoist’s words.

Truth be told, even now he remained on guard. Yet… the old Daoist’s words rang true.

And still, he could not fathom what Taiping’s purpose was in sending him here.

“Let’s speak plainly!” Wu Sansi finally lost all patience. “Tell me directly—did Taiping send you to deliver this message?”

“Yes.” The Daoist nodded without hesitation.

“Then what is her intent?”

“It’s very simple,” the Daoist replied. “Taiping is a member of the Li imperial clan, but she is, after all, just a gentle woman with a kind heart.

“She does not wish for herself or her family to be destroyed in the feud between the Li and Wu clans. Nor does she wish for you, Lord Wu, to be thrust into the plight of the plum blossom, without even realizing it.”

Wu Sansi said nothing.

Seeing his lingering doubts, the Daoist laid everything bare.

“To be frank, for Taiping, she only wishes to live a peaceful life as a woman. Who sits upon the supreme throne matters little to her.

“And judging by the current situation, the Empress’s rule is already assured. Who she will pass the throne to is an open question—will it go to the Li, or the Wu? Only the Empress can decide.

“But…” The Daoist fixed Wu Sansi with a look. “If it goes to the Wu clan, who will it be? You, Lord Sansi, or Chengsi? Have you considered this?”

“And if it is Chengsi, would you accept it?”

“I…” Wu Sansi hesitated, but in the end dared not reveal his true heart.

“All I can say is: that is not for me to decide.”

“Perhaps not,” said the Daoist. “But even if you cannot choose, you should not fan the flames.

“If you help wipe out the Li clan, and only you and Chengsi remain, who stands the better chance?”

Of course, it would be Wu Chengsi! He was the Empress’s chosen successor after Helan Minzhi’s death.

If it were left to a struggle between himself and Wu Chengsi, Wu Sansi would stand no chance at all.

Wu Sansi was appalled. Had he been a fool? Perhaps he should never have tried to clear the waters…

Little did he know, it was not foolishness on his part, but rather that Wu Jiu, the true player behind the scenes, had used an open scheme that struck directly at his sore spot.

…

What Wu Sansi failed to notice was that the Daoist himself now had sweat beading on his brow, cold and persistent.

Inwardly, he cursed Wu Ning with all his might.

You little bastard! Making me speak such treason!

You nearly scared me to death…