Volume III, Real Ancient Capital, Chapter 56: The feast of Daxia
By Xiao Xiang Dong'Er | Translated and Arranged by Angel Chua
A voice faded, and a huge bell rang loudly, nine long tolls and five short ones. A powerful voice roared through the courtyard, reaching over a stretch of more than ten yards.
Yan Xun and Zhuge Yue, sensing a change, looked around and saw the big tent's hustle and bustle suddenly fall into silence. Everyone fell to the ground and shouted: "The king is here!"
The large curtain opened, and the north wind blew, causing the lights to sway. Silence reigned. Outside, neat footsteps were heard, accompanied by the clinking of armor as a large number of troops surrounded the Royal Bank. The cold metal clashed with the rich aroma of the barbecue. Chu Qiao looked up cautiously, but all she saw were crowds of deerskin boots treading on the big bearskin carpet. Leading them was a figure of average build, wearing white boots embroidered with bright yellow dragon clouds. The person walked steadily and unhurriedly, their pace slow and deliberate.
"All of you, rise."
A low voice spoke slowly from above, not loud or harsh, with a slightly sluggish tone. Yet it carried a weight of power, gradually quieting the noise in the grand event. Everyone stood up, though no one dared to raise their heads. Xia Wang's (Great Summer Emperor) voice descended from the top: "Be seated. The banquet will now begin."
The 3rd Prince Zhao Qi respectfully replied, "Yes, Father Emperor." He then stepped forward and announced loudly: "This is the state banquet. Please take your seats."
The sound of bamboo instruments began to play immediately, and from both sides of the hall, graceful dancers drifted in, dressed in peach-colored robes. Their skin was like snow as they twirled with long sleeves, exuding charm. All kinds of delicacies were placed before the guests, and the atmosphere began to relax. Gradually, laughter broke out and spread through the room.
Zhuge Yue remained standing with Yan Xun before taking his seat. His dark eyes appeared cold as he looked at the girl beside Yan Xun. Watching her calm and indifferent face, which still showed the familiar signs of stubbornness, Zhuge Yue slowly nodded. Without saying a word, he turned away, his movement decisive, a large fur cloak swirling in the wind. Like a sharp sword, his gaze cut across the royal table, where drinks trembled gently.
Chu Qiao's fingers suddenly felt cold. Something stirred in her chest, and her sword-like brows furrowed deeply. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then sat down.
Suddenly, a hand rested on her shoulder. Chu Qiao looked up and met Yan Xun's dark eyes.
Yan Xun didn't speak, but his message was clear. Over the years, in moments of frustration and hatred, they had encouraged each other in the same way: "Wait, persevere, and rise when the time comes."
Chu Qiao nodded in silence, surrounded by the noisy crowd. She looked up toward the far end, where the brightly lit and dazzling lights almost blinded her. The girl squinted, focusing on the man seated at the center of the radiance. The lights were so brilliant that they obscured his face, leaving only a blur. All she could make out was the embroidered dragon's claws on his robe, gleaming like sharp steel blades, pointing toward the crowd and commanding attention.
Bang! A sharp ring echoed as the front of the large tent was thrown open. A cold wind rushed into the crowd, and a huge square came into view, filled with roaring fires. Outside, 300 seats were arranged in neat rows for those not eligible to enter the main tent. They sat in circles, creating an empty space at the center. The contrast between this setting and the extravagant atmosphere of the imperial clan inside the tent was stark. As the tent flap rose, cheers burst from outside.
At that moment, the rapid clatter of hooves suddenly broke through the air. The crowd looked up and saw hundreds of sturdy horses riding swiftly from afar, moving with staggering speed and astonishing precision. White-armored soldiers led the charge, quickly forming a perfect line as they galloped. Their movements were uniform and crisp, displaying remarkable discipline. The sight captivated the audience.
The nobility and onlookers erupted into thunderous applause. Everyone watched as a high-ranking official drove onto the scene, his left hand holding his right while controlling his horse with both legs. The riders performed a variety of fancy maneuvers, their actions smooth, tidy, and aesthetically pleasing, yet also demonstrating the practicality of battle techniques. Leading them was General Qingqi, a young officer wearing a dark steel helmet that concealed his face. His tall and straight posture, graceful yet invincible, commanded respect.
At that moment, all the soldiers simultaneously sheathed their swords, leaving their shields on their horses. They then drew crossbows and arrows, standing upside down on their stirrups as they prepared to shoot. A burst of sharp sounds pierced the air as a hundred arrows were released at once. Bang! A thick arrow crashed into the target with immense force. It didn't fall but instead flew upward, whistling like a giant pine tree before landing lifelessly. The target was pierced by a dense mass of arrows, with many arrows stacked atop each other.
Suddenly, the crowd fell into a dead silence. The soldiers dismounted as their general led them to kneel on one knee, removing his helmet. "Zhao Che," he declared powerfully, "I wish my parents great blessings in the heavenly realms. With these ten thousand armies, this is boundless hunting!"
Bang! The audience shifted but remained silent, offering no applause for the display of arrogance.
"A few years of border experience, and he has grown into a remarkable young man," Xia Huang (the emperor) said steadily, though a hint of relief touched his voice. "The Longquan sword is your reward. Let the blade of the Great Summer hunt the Tu Da of Xinjiang and defend the homeland."
"Thank you, Father!" Zhao Che said loudly, bowing with a heavy knock on the ground. The princes and ministers praised his bravery in unison.
Seated in the front row, Zhuge Yue quietly sipped his tea, his face indifferent. His eyes squinted slightly as he observed the scene.
"The seventh prince grew up at the frontier, guarding the empire over the years. He is indeed a rare and brave young man. Beijing has a seventh prince, and the territory can remain worry-free," the third prince, Zhao Qi, nodded slowly. He seemed unaffected, whether by jealousy or annoyance, and maintained a calm expression that fit his reputation as a wise and virtuous leader.
When Zhao Che retired, the atmosphere gradually became livelier. Various warlord clans began displaying martial arts demonstrations, with horseback archery and sword dances. The tables overflowed with food, and the rich aroma of barbecued game filled the air, adding to the festive atmosphere.
The northwestern Batuha family had come a long way for the hunt. Apart from a few concubines, only Zaru and Zama brought their two children. At that moment, Zaru led the family warriors in a unique northwest-style wrestling demonstration, which drew applause. Meanwhile, Zama, with the grace of a young northwestern girl, entered the field and performed superb equestrian skills.
Although their skills were not unmatched, a young noble girl's performance was bound to win widespread acclaim. The Summer King was pleased and thanked them for the 20 Huai Song tribute yarns. For a time, this performance brought the banquet to another peak of excitement.
Zama, smiling, suddenly addressed the Emperor, "Your Majesty, endlessly performing is rather dull. At this dinner, wouldn't it be more entertaining to compete as we do in the northwest? I would like to request permission to challenge someone for the first time tonight."
Zama was still only a sixteen-year-old girl, yet her expression was bold as she glanced at the group of Jiaohan (maids pleasing to the eye). Some in the audience responded with awkward smiles. Xia Huang (the Emperor), seated on his throne with a faintly amused look, said: "Who do you wish to challenge?"
"I've heard that the northern Yan Jian Zi excels in martial arts, but I've never had the chance to witness it. Today, we are all gathered here, so why not put on a display together?"
The moment her voice faded, all eyes turned to the last seat where Yan Xun's female guard sat. Only a few people knew the full story and recognized Zama's deliberate provocation. After all, the northwestern Batuha family and the northern region of Yanbei had long been adversaries. Since the fall of Yan City, their hostilities were well-known.
Yan Xun did not speak, but a calmness settled over him as he rose. Dressed in white robes embroidered with delicate Moelian (a beautiful wild vine) patterns, his demeanor remained composed. His eyes, as dark as ink, coldly observed the scene as he replied: "The girl's age is young, and her knowledge of martial arts is but surface-level. I dare not let her offer an embarrassing demonstration before His Majesty. Zama, with her renowned equestrian and martial arts prowess, would easily defeat someone less skilled."
"Yan Shizi speaks falsely to conceal his fear of embarrassment," Wei Shu Yuo chimed in, a young man seated beside him, representing the next generation of the Wei family. He was known for his eloquence and had attended several banquets with Yan Xun. "Zama is only sixteen as well, a dignified princess. Challenging a mere servant is already beneath her, but to avoid the match altogether is hardly honorable. Are you afraid of losing?"
Guo Wang, seated nearby, added with a small smile: "Yan Shizi, this girl from the northwest is a rare beauty, a pearl of the prairie. Better to let her display her talents than to hinder her. Such elegance deserves recognition."
Jing Han, an elder from the royal family and Zhao Zhengde's uncle, who was more than eighty years old, chuckled casually. His voice, though slow, carried weight. "The Princess Zama has made her request."
Xia Huang nodded in agreement: "Proceed with Zama's request."
Yan Xun's brows furrowed slightly, but before he could speak, Chu Qiao stood up from behind, tugging on his sleeve and silently shaking her head.
Yan Xun's expression grew somber, knowing that refusing would lead to more confrontation. He gripped Chu Qiao's hand tightly and whispered, "Be careful."
Chu Qiao smiled confidently and nodded. "Rest assured."
She removed her long fur cloak and stepped into the center of the venue. Bowing with respect, she turned to Zama's team and said, "In that case, I shall take the offense."
All eyes were drawn to Chu Qiao. Seven years ago, she had been an eight-year-old child, fighting alongside Yan Xun on Jiu Wei Street, where she lost three fingers but managed a daring escape. Many still remembered her courage and strength. Now, after seven years, who could guess what kind of skills she had honed? Though a slave by title, she represented the northern Hebei prince.
Everyone in the Summer Dynasty knew the story of Yan City's fall and the decimation of the Yan royal line. Even after a hundred years of the northern Yan election officer policy, remnants of the Yan family still thrived in the northwestern grasslands. For years, the Summer Dynasty tried but failed to fully eradicate the Yan bloodline. Moreover, a mysterious force secretly supported the political and economic strength of Yanbian, making it impossible for the emperor to eliminate it entirely. The root of Yanbei's strength remained unchallenged.
The wind from outside brushed against Chu Qiao's pale fur as she stood in the center, her black hair contrasting with her thin yet determined face. Her calm demeanor, coupled with her quiet courage, was enough to make anyone take notice.
This was Chu Qiao's first time standing before the Great Summer Royal Family, accepting the challenge of Princess Zama, a prominent figure from the northwest, though she was only a slave.
Zama, seeing Chu Qiao, sneered and proudly said, "I've just finished my equestrian performance, and my strength hasn't fully recovered. So, the competition wouldn't be fair. I will send my servant to compete with you first. If you win, then you may face me."
Zama's words carried the authority of someone accustomed to getting their way. Zhao Song frowned, unable to stay silent any longer, while Zhao Qi furrowed his brow and stood up. "Father, this is unfair."
King Han laughed dismissively, saying, "Zama is from the northwest, and their customs are different. There's nothing unfair about sending a slave to fight in a martial contest. Besides, she just finished performing."
Wei Shu Yuo's lips curled into a smirk as he stared at Chu Qiao. "Relax, it's just a slave. This is all in good fun."
"You…" Zhao Song started to protest.
"Thirteenth Brother!" Zhao Qi interrupted. "Sit down."
Seeing that Xia Huang had no objection, Zama turned to a large man seated in the back and said, "Come forth and compete with this girl."
The Han fighter stepped forward, towering over everyone else. He was a full seven feet tall, his arms bulging like bronze bells. Standing next to Chu Qiao, he looked like an elephant compared to a cat. There was no sense of proportion between them.
At this point, everyone understood Zama's intention. This wasn't a contest—it was an execution. However, no one voiced any objections. As Wei Shu Yuo had remarked earlier, to them, "slaves are for sport."
Chu Qiao looked up calmly, watching the Tu Da fighter. She knew this fight was more than just a display of martial prowess; it was tied to the reputation of Yanbei. For the first time in years, Yan Xun had reappeared before the brigade officials, and a defeat now would deal a severe blow to Yanbei's morale. It could jeopardize the foundation of trust Yan Xun had built, especially with the soldiers of northern Hebei.
Taking a deep breath, Chu Qiao stepped out from the royal tent and into the center of the yard. She walked over to the weapons rack, picked up a spear, and weighed it in her hands before returning to face her opponent. She looked up and asked, "What weapon will you use?"
The Tu Da fighter, his voice high-pitched and shrill, struck his fist against his palm a few times, grinning triumphantly. "My fist is my weapon."
"No spears, then? Be careful," Chu Qiao warned.
Without a moment's hesitation, the Tu Da fighter charged toward her, the wind roaring with his movement. His massive fist hurtled toward her like a bomb mid-air. In an instant, Chu Qiao darted out of the way, moving swiftly as his fist crashed into the ground. The impact created a large crater, sending snow and dust flying into the air.
The crowd gasped. Many in the audience, including young girls and noble ladies, paled at the sight, covering their eyes, afraid to witness what would happen next.
Chu Qiao, always a provocateur, had no time to display her full strength. The Tu Da fighter, though massive, was surprisingly agile, pressing her like a fierce tiger closing in on its prey.
Zhao Song looked nervous. He knew Chu Qiao was skilled, but her opponent was a giant. The young prince had already decided that if things went south, he would intervene to save her.
The two exchanged a few quick blows, but Chu Qiao remained on the defensive, darting around to avoid direct confrontation with the Tu Da fighter. The crowd began to believe she had no chance of winning. Just as it seemed her defeat was certain, a loud cry erupted from the field. Chu Qiao suddenly shifted, her slender frame twisting with agile precision. She moved faster than anyone could anticipate, like a streak of lightning.
The high torches flickered, casting eerie shadows as the crowd gasped in unison, certain Chu Qiao was about to meet her end. Yan Xun, however, remained calm, his face sharp like a pine tree in winter. He clenched the glass in his hand, his expression unreadable. He drank the remaining wine, then released his grip. The sound of the glass shattering rang out, sharp and clear as the pieces scattered across the table.
Under the gaze of tens of thousands, the seemingly defeated girl suddenly turned around with astonishing speed. Her body moved fluidly, her waist twisting as she leveraged the momentum to whirl the spear. It swung like a deadly flower blooming in reverse, and the power behind it was thunderous.
A muffled thud echoed through the yard, followed by the sound of blood splattering. A scream pierced the air.
The wind howled, blowing Chu Qiao's hair as she stood holding the spear, its tip resting against the Tu Da fighter's chest. The spear had pierced his skin by only half an inch. Clearly, she had spared him, choosing not to kill.
With a swift motion, Chu Qiao withdrew the spear and nodded. "It's done."
Without another word, she turned and bowed her head to the leaders of northern Yanbei.
The crowd suddenly erupted in thunderous applause! The forces of the Big Summer had never seen such skill in a young girl, especially her ability to wield a spear and defeat such a massive opponent. No one complained, and everyone loudly cheered her victory.
However, in the next moment, they heard a sudden, violent roar from Tuoda (a term for a traitorous, ungrateful person). He had somehow regained consciousness and, with a loud cry, rushed toward Chu Qiao's back, aiming to strike her fiercely.
"Be careful!"
Zhao Song shouted urgently, leaping from his seat. Almost simultaneously, a sharp edge shot out from behind the seats. Just as Tuoda's fist was about to hit Chu Qiao, the blade struck first, piercing the back of Tuoda's head and opening a large, bloody wound.
At that moment, Tuoda's body fell to the ground with a heavy thud, his eyes wide open in disbelief. Blood gushed from the back of his head, leaving the crowd in shocked silence.
"Bold!" Zama shouted furiously, springing up from her seat. "This slave dared to carry a weapon! Yan Xun, are you planning a rebellion?"
The Prince of Yan, Yan Xun, remained seated leisurely, his pale expression unchanging. He held a piece of broken porcelain between his index and middle fingers and responded coolly, "Can a cup be considered a weapon?"
To everyone's amazement, they realized that Yan Xun had used a broken cup to deliver the fatal blow.
"Your Majesty," Yan Xun continued, addressing the emperor, "Zama's subordinate broke the rule of honor by attacking from behind. It was an act of murder."
No sound came from the throne, but the guards immediately moved to remove Tuoda's body from the arena.
"Magistrate," Chu Qiao said calmly, showing no emotion as she turned to face Zama, "can you not rest? If you are still tired, feel free to call upon another subordinate. We can continue when you are ready."
The large aristocrats shifted their attention from Tuoda's lifeless body to Zama, waiting for her response. Clear-minded observers could see that Zama had never expected Chu Qiao to kill Tuoda. Earlier, she had been confident that Tuoda would easily defeat Chu Qiao, but now that he was dead, Zama was left without an excuse to avoid the fight. Everyone could see that she was now afraid. According to the customs of the Northwest, to challenge someone and then shy away was even worse than deserting the battlefield; it would bring contempt from all.
Zama clenched her teeth, her face reddening with anger. She whipped her weapon in the air, standing up and shouting, "I'm afraid you're not a mere servant after all!"
"Wait," Zhao Qi interrupted, standing up with a laugh. "It's been a long time since I've seen such a superb display of martial arts from a woman. Since Major Nan Feng, no other woman in the empire has shown such skill. How about we have a match to test your archery next?"
His suggestion instantly made Zama understand the gravity of her situation. The Batuha family dominated the Northwest, and Zama's father, the old Ba Pitu King, was known for his temper. If his daughter were injured in the imperial capital, he would be furious. Zama had always been renowned for her archery skills, and Zhao Qi's remark was meant to restore her honor, or at least save face for the Northwest.
Chu Qiao, though clever with the spear, was not necessarily as skilled with a bow, and the crowd anticipated the archery match with growing anticipation, expecting Zama to regain her honor.
Zhuge Yue, seated in the seventh chair, dressed in a purple robe and white fur, narrowed his eyes. He was well aware of Chu Qiao's mastery of archery. Raising his glass, he took a sip of wine, waiting.
As expected, Zama's expression brightened. Feeling triumphant, she stood tall and confidently strode into the center of the arena. "You first!" she declared coldly.
"No, Princess. You go first, please," Chu Qiao responded politely.
Zama sneered, pulling three dart-like arrows from her quiver. She drew her bow and, with a sharp whine, shot all three arrows at once. The arrows flew like lightning toward the red target placed a hundred paces away. They hit in quick succession, one after another, in perfect precision, causing a wave of praise to sweep through the crowd.
But before the applause could die down, they saw Chu Qiao kneel down, pulling out a massive crossbow that was nearly as tall as she was. In one smooth motion, she loaded three arrows and fired them after Zama's. The arrows whistled through the air and, with a crisp sound, shattered Zama's arrows, piercing their tails in mid-flight. Almost simultaneously, Chu Qiao's arrows hit the exact center of the target.
The crowd gasped in astonishment. Chu Qiao's skill was undeniable. She stood up slowly, her expression calm.
Everyone in the audience was stunned. They couldn't believe their eyes, and then, as the reality of what they had witnessed sank in, loud cheers erupted, and applause echoed through the air for what seemed like an eternity.
"Well done, Zama," Chu Qiao said lightly before stepping back to her place in the large tent.
Even the Summer Emperor was visibly moved. He sighed with admiration, "Such archery skill has not been seen in many years. For a daughter of Wei, you are indeed exceptional. You shall be freed from slavery, and I command you to join the Xiaoqi camp as the head of Arrow Artistry."
Chu Qiao raised her brows but still knelt heavily on the ground, coldly saying, "Thank you, Your Majesty, for your grace."
Chu Qiao slowly retreated and joined Yan Xun's side. Around them, the atmosphere was warm and lively, with stunning dancers performing. Yet, even amid the spectacle, all eyes remained drawn to the two of them. Yan Xun, feeling victorious, glanced at Chu Qiao with a faint smile and sat down.
From across the hall, a distant, cold gaze fell upon them, dark and brooding, observing with a hidden intensity. It came from a person who had always remained indifferent. Suddenly, a rare smile flashed on the girl's face, lighting up her features, and the eyes watching her flickered with sudden clarity.
Wine goblets were being passed from one side of the hall to another. Zhuge Yue raised his glass, drank deeply, and lowered it with a calm yet distant expression, betraying nothing but an air of indifferent elegance.
The grand royal feast eventually came to an end. Chu Qiao and Yan Xun returned to their quarters, accompanied by the vigilante company, with Yan Xun nursing a serious injury.
Later, as they shared a pot of tea, sitting in their chairs by the fire, Chu Qiao asked, "Xia Huang boasted about the Longquan sword during the feast. What do you think he meant by that?"
"It's clear he's warning Muhe Shi. He won't push the blame for Muhe Xi Feng's death onto Zhao Che."
Chu Qiao frowned and nodded thoughtfully. "So, Wei won't have to carry the burden for this? He doesn't want the Wei family and the Muhe clan to escalate their conflict over the matter?"
"That's right," Yan Xun said, fiddling with his fingers. "Muhe Shi has grown too domineering. The higher you rise, the harder the fall. Just like the Eurasian territories thirty years ago."
Chu Qiao sighed, feeling suddenly exhausted. Too many complications, too many people tangled up in an ever-complex situation. She rubbed her temple. "I'll head back first. You should rest early too."
Just as she got up to leave, Yan Xun's voice called out from behind her, "A'Chu, during Tu Da's attack, why didn't you avoid it? With your skills, you could have easily dodged."
Chu Qiao paused, turning back with a bland, almost bored expression. "Because you were behind me."
Outside, the wind suddenly picked up, rustling the tent's canvas. Yan Xun looked momentarily surprised but then smiled softly. "Yeah, I'm stupid."
"I'm going," Chu Qiao said quietly.
As the curtain lifted, her figure disappeared from the tent. Yan Xun, left in the warmth of the tent, chuckled softly, the once icy hardness of his heart beginning to melt. A gentle warmth, like a spring breeze, slipped through the cracks.
"Because you were behind me, I could leave my back unguarded."
They had always been each other's most trusted allies. Since childhood, Yan Xun could close his eyes without fear when she was beside him, and Chu Qiao could only sleep peacefully knowing he was there.
Under the astrological moonlight of the long night, the young prince of Yanbei lifted his head slightly. "A'Chu, thank you… for being the one I can still believe in."
Later that night, back in the warmth of her tent, Chu Qiao bathed and felt utterly drained. She leaned against the couch, her eyes growing heavy. As she lay down, her gaze fell on the sword by her bedside.
Sitting up, she gently unsheathed it. Under the dim light, the blade's surface glimmered, the dark red sword pattern rippling like flowing blood, gleaming faintly.
For seven years, she had wondered if they would meet again. She hadn't expected it to happen like this.
She knew that Zhuge Yue must have noticed the wounds on her neck as well. Their encounters had always been marked by opposition and bloodshed, their fates intertwined like two daggers destined to cross paths.
The screams of the child echoed in her ears again—those dismembered arms, the bleeding bodies, the cold pavilion by the lake. It all played out like a haunting movie, scenes slowly unfolding before her eyes. The memory of the braised pork, eaten in the dead of night when she was most helpless, felt like a sharp arrow piercing her heart.
"Moon children, do you trust the elders? I will protect you!"
The sour feeling rose again in her chest as the sharp edge of her emotions cut deep. Her nightmares, her sharp ears still ringing with the cries from the past, brought her back to the sound of her little sister, the eighth, calling from Wei Jiu Wei streets just before her death. That cry of anguish had been the cornerstone of her seven-year nightmare.
"My sister! Help me! Save me!"
Chu Qiao had gone through hell, slipping out of the Sanctuary of the Golden Temple only to scavenge for the broken bodies of the dead in the marketplace. She had fought with wild dogs over the remains, unable to find her little sister's head, arms, or legs. She couldn't even give her sister a proper burial, only watching her flesh and blood sink into a pool of red water, stained by the aristocratic rouge.
"Little eight, you're lying here watching, waiting for me to take revenge for you."
Those days, her tears had dried up, leaving only burning hatred etched deep in her heart. Like a shy little beast, she had clenched her fists, biting down hard on her lower lip to suppress her rage.
Like a flash of lightning, seven years had passed.
"Zhuge Yue, you've finally returned."
In the darkness, a soft, low voice broke the silence.
"Do you know how long I've been waiting for you?"
Under the sparse sky, with the stars twinkling faintly above, the wind of Yanbei, laden with blood and sorrow, swept over the vast earth of Ximeng, blowing far, far away.
AC Afterthoughts
This chapter immerses the reader in the splendor and political intricacies of a royal banquet, contrasting moments of tension with the grandeur of martial displays. The scene vividly captures the intersection of personal relationships, hidden motivations, and the omnipresent threat of violence in a highly formalized setting.
Key themes that stand out include loyalty, as shown by the unspoken understanding between Chu Qiao and Yan Xun, and rivalry, exemplified in the subtle competition between Zhao Che and the other princes. The demonstration of martial prowess, both by soldiers and through contests, highlights the importance of physical strength and skill in this world, serving as a metaphor for the constant jockeying for power.
Zhuge Yue's silent departure and the tension between Chu Qiao and Zama also foreshadow potential future conflicts. The final moments of the chapter, with Chu Qiao's quiet reflection on her past and her unresolved bitterness toward Zhuge Yue, hint at deeper emotional scars and the potential for future revenge or reconciliation. This leaves the reader with a sense of anticipation for the unfolding political drama and the personal stakes at play for each character.
Afterthoughts for the Chapter:
This chapter is a profound exploration of the complex relationships and emotional undercurrents between the main characters, framed against a backdrop of political tension and personal stakes. The intricate web of alliances, betrayals, and hidden motivations begins to unravel, giving us insight into both the present dynamics and the long-standing histories that bind and divide the characters.
At the heart of this chapter is Chu Qiao, a character torn between her sense of duty, her traumatic past, and her calculated drive for survival. Her interactions with Yan Xun highlight the depth of their bond, built over years of shared hardship and mutual reliance. There is a quiet trust between them, and Yan Xun's faith in her abilities is evident. Yet, their relationship also carries an unspoken weight, as they both grapple with the complicated roles they now play in this political landscape. The moment when Yan Xun questions why Chu Qiao didn't dodge Tu Da's attack, and her simple response, "Because you were behind me," reflects the essence of their connection—absolute trust, forged in adversity.
The chapter is also a window into Zhuge Yue's enigmatic character. Though his actions are minimal, his presence looms large, especially in the closing moments when Chu Qiao reflects on their shared history. Zhuge Yue is portrayed as a figure who, though distant and composed, holds a deep connection to Chu Qiao—one marked by opposition, betrayal, and unresolved tension. Their relationship is tinged with an air of tragic inevitability, as if fate has bound them as enemies, regardless of their personal histories. This long-standing enmity, coupled with Chu Qiao's unhealed emotional wounds, sets the stage for future conflict and possibly a reckoning.
One of the most emotionally charged elements of the chapter is Chu Qiao's reflection on her traumatic past. Her vivid memories of her sister's death, her inability to give her a proper burial, and her vow for revenge reveal the source of her strength, as well as her deep scars. These flashbacks not only humanize her but also remind the reader of the immense pain and loss that continues to drive her. Chu Qiao's hatred and desire for justice are central to her character, and this chapter emphasizes how much her past continues to shape her present decisions.
The political machinations at play in the background serve as the foundation upon which these personal dramas unfold. The interactions at the royal banquet—from the martial contests to the subtle power plays—illustrate the precariousness of the characters' positions. Yan Xun and Chu Qiao's calculated moves during the feast, combined with their ability to navigate these complex social structures, demonstrate their awareness of the stakes involved. The chapter subtly hints at looming conflicts, particularly regarding the rising tensions between the Wei family, the Muhe clan, and the emperor's strategic maneuvering.
The archery contest between Chu Qiao and Zama also acts as a pivotal moment, reinforcing Chu Qiao's resilience and strength. The contest reflects more than just a battle of skill; it's a test of character, honor, and survival in a society that seeks to undermine her at every turn. Chu Qiao's calm, controlled triumph over Zama signifies not only her ability to hold her own in the face of adversity but also her ability to navigate and outwit the dangerous world of political intrigue.