Three Steps: From Assassin to Empress - Chapter 27

Chapter 27: The Assassin Persuades with Reason

A small child in a pink dress, thin and frail, wriggles through a human wall of soldiers and runs toward a large wooden tub filled with white rice. In the cold winter air, she desperately tries to stop the rice from being dumped out, her face flushed with effort.

The soldiers rush to grab her, trying to pry her hands from the tub’s edge. To their shock, the little girl’s grip is incredibly strong, her hands clamped firmly to the wood. They are forced to drag her by the waist, trying to pull her away.

“Whose kid is this? If you delay the sacrifice, you’ll hold up the water transport for all four regions. Your whole family can’t even begin to pay for that!” a soldier curses.

From a distance, a crowd of feathered Taoist priests and pale-faced aristocrats watches, their expressions showing impatience. The two junior officers are also annoyed that their men can’t control a little girl.

A servant boy whispers to a junior officer that the girl is of common birth, an orphan looked after by the esteemed Wang clan. Harming her could create problems with the powerful clan. The officer, surnamed Wu, despises these aristocratic families. Ignoring the warning, he mutters, “No matter what, don’t let the sacrifice be delayed.”

The soldiers finally tear the child from the tub. Her red hands are bruised from the rim. A young soldier discreetly scoops up a handful of rice and presses it into her hands. The others see him but say nothing, silently shifting their bodies to block the view of the aristocrats. This rice is meant for the river god, but they are also common people and know how vital every grain is.

“Give it back to us! Why are you throwing the rice in the river?!” the little girl cries, clinging to the handful of rice as she watches the rest pour into the water.

A heavy silence falls over the embankment, broken only by the sound of the rushing river. Little Chang’an has known hunger her whole life. She doesn’t understand why so much precious rice is being poured into the river, disappearing in an instant. She also can’t understand why the familiar villagers, who have also been hungry, are just watching. Could the river god’s stomach really be big enough to eat ten cartloads of rice?

The quiet is broken by a low voice. “Hurry and cover her mouth! Don’t let her offend the water god!”

The soldiers, as if waking from a trance, carefully cover her mouth, making sure not to hurt her. They all know she is right; she’s simply speaking the truth.

The river wind blows Ying Xiu’s golden robes. He arrived earlier and has been watching from among the common people—seeing the priests pray, the aristocrats fan themselves and chat, and the rice being dumped into the Yuan River like a massive snowstorm. He thinks that if there were a water god, it would surely have died from overeating.

Suddenly, a few dark specks appear in the sky. Birds flap their wings, flying against the wind and swooping down to snatch grains of rice. The priests and aristocrats don’t pay much attention, thinking it’s just birds fighting over food.

The next moment, a black owl soars up, a grain of rice in its beak. It flies over the heads of the people and drops the rice. It falls like a single snowflake, silently landing in the dust. The aristocrats think perhaps the owl just lost its grip.

But just as the priests predicted, more and more owls swoop down to the embankment, grab rice, and drop it for the people. This repeats endlessly.

Someone in the crowd shouts, “The water god is giving us a blessing! He wants to return the food to us!”

With that, the quiet crowd erupts. Several children break through the cordon of soldiers and rush to the carts to grab the rice. The two junior officers’ faces darken. The Yuan River is crucial for water transport for three provinces. Any mishap could be blamed on them.

“Quickly, seize these unruly commoners!” the officer shouts.

“Hold on, official,” a clear, young voice calls out from the crowd. It’s not loud, but it is clear enough for everyone on the embankment to hear.

“Since the water god has sent owls to return the grain to the people, why do you stand in their way? Are you intentionally defying the river god of the Yuan River?” Ying Xiu asks calmly, each word sharp. He is dressed in common cloth, not his usual golden robes, and looks like a regular person. But his refined and clear demeanor gives him an otherworldly air. His sharpness and intelligence are captivating, and no one can look away.

“Who are you?” a servant asks for the aristocratic officials.

“I am here to question you on behalf of the water god of the Yuan River. Why are you dumping all this food to make a sacrifice?” Ying Xiu responds with a question of his own.

Only Taoist priests can communicate with gods, so who is this young man? He has the audacity to claim he speaks for the water god. The nerve!

A clerk rushes over and whispers something to the two junior officers. Their expressions change slightly, and they don’t order their men to stop Ying Xiu. They simply watch. The two highest-ranking people don’t speak, and others in the crowd implicitly understand and also remain silent.

However, the ceremony cannot be delayed. A feathered priest explains, “To sacrifice to the water god, we must use rice to pray for good fortune, abundant rains, and prosperous water transport.” He then challenges Ying Xiu, “I must ask you, why are you delaying the ceremony? Are you intentionally trying to bring misfortune to the four provinces and chaos to the people?”

Ying Xiu doesn’t answer but asks, “I have a question for you all. Who is greater, the water god or the people?”

The priest is silent for a moment. The junior officer impatiently says, “When the water god is pleased, we have good rains, and the people are naturally pleased. There is no distinction of who is greater.”

“What a great answer, official,” Ying Xiu praises. “If we want to please the water god, we must follow the water god’s way.”

The aristocrats and priests exchange glances, unable to figure out what the young man is up to.

“The ancient sages say, ‘The way of Heaven is to take from the abundant and give to the deficient. The way of man is to take from the deficient and give to the abundant.’ The Yuan River is abundant, and the people are deficient. The Yuan River should therefore provide for the people.”

The young man’s voice is clear and powerful, rising above the waves. “This is following the way of Heaven. What you are doing is the way of man. When the water god becomes angry, you will be the ones held accountable.”

The aristocrats and officials in Jiangzhou finally understand. This young man wants them to stop dumping the rice. Otherwise, they would be following the way of man, not the way of Heaven, and disrespecting the water god. They are used to using the gods to intimidate others, but no one has ever used the gods to intimidate them.

A priest sneers, “What nonsense about the way of Heaven and man. According to you, should the water god offer sacrifices to the people?”

In front of everyone, Ying Xiu steps forward and places his hand on a rice-filled tub. He says firmly, “You are using the name of the gods to oppress the people. Have you forgotten how His Majesty handled such cases in the first year of Yongning?”

In the first year of Yongning, the twelve-year-old Emperor Zhaosu took the throne. A single edict led to the slaughter of almost all the Taoist priests in the capital. Overnight, countless temples and monasteries were destroyed. This shocked the Southern Dynasty. An official once risked his life to plead with the emperor, hitting his head against a pillar until he bled. The emperor only glanced at him and ordered his body to be buried. From then on, the worship of gods, once popular in the Southern Dynasty, disappeared.

The two junior officers hesitate. They are not easily intimidated, but they have to consider his words. After all, that is Emperor Zhaosu, a tyrant whose cruelty is known across the land. Even the nomadic Qiang tribes are terrified of his name. What’s more, they are only junior officers; the chief constable, chief justice, and Jiangzhou governor are all conveniently “ill,” clearly intending to use them as scapegoats.

“You say we should follow the way of Heaven. How should we do that?” the officer asks, testing him. The officer’s only concern is to absolve himself of blame. The sacrifice and the opening of the floodgates are all the ideas of the aristocrats who are obsessed with philosophy. He is just following orders and trying to muddle through.

Ying Xiu is ready to reveal his identity. The cold, beautiful white jade token rests against his chest, rising and falling with his nervous breathing. He feels as though Xie Zhou is nearby.

“To follow the way of Heaven, we must return the grain to the people, giving them more, not less, to show the water god’s grace,” Ying Xiu says.

Return the grain to the people?

The aristocrats and officials exchange glances. They know what the common people don’t: the people of Jiangzhou have already paid two sacks of rice each, adding up to an uncountable amount. The rice on the carts is only a small fraction; the rest is in their private storerooms. How can they possibly return what they have already stolen just because of a few words from this young man?

The officer nods slightly, not wanting to get into a fight with him, just wanting to get rid of him. A servant boy told him that this young man had once asked to be put in jail, and within two hours, the Jiangzhou governor personally came to get him out. It is clear that this young man has powerful people supporting him.

As for returning the grain… he will leave that to them to sort out.

The officer, who has served for forty years without a promotion and has never taken a bribe, thinks to himself. While he is clean, the other officer says:

“Don’t listen to his nonsense! Men, dump all the rice into the river for me!”

If it’s all gone, there’s no problem.