BSI Chapter 8 The Sword Award
Chapter 8 The Sword Award
Zhao Heng looked around and saw that what Wei Jia was holding was actually a sword.
The longsword was still in its scabbard, which was made of black leather. It was old, but well-maintained, and had a soft, matte sheen in the light.
Following Zhao Heng's gaze, Wei Jia remained silent, simply walking back to the light-filled area under the west window with his sword in hand.
The sunlight shone directly on him, turning his dark brown robes almost black in the strong light. So he used his thumb to press against the hilt of his sword, which was made of bronze, and slowly pushed it out.
A soft "clang" was heard.
Half of the sword was drawn from its sheath.
Sunlight shone on the blade.
In an instant, a cold light exploded.
Unlike ordinary reflections, the sword reflects a dazzling, cold light under sunlight, and the cloud-like patterns on the spine flow like water, casting glaring white spots on the indoor walls.
In that instant, the room brightened, a chilling atmosphere filled the air, and even the tracks of the floating dust became clearer.
Zhao Heng squinted. The light was so bright that he had to tilt his head to the side.
"What do you think of this sword?" Wei Jia asked.
Zhao Heng took a moment to adjust before looking at the unsheathed sword again. The blade was straight and extremely thin, with light flowing along the edge like mercury flowing through a channel.
"Its cold gleam is dazzling," he said truthfully, "and its sharpness is menacing."
Wei Jia nodded, then took two steps back.
They retreated just in time to the shadow cast by the screen.
Light and shadow carved a distinct line across his body, his upper body in darkness and his lower body in light. Then he flicked his wrist, which was holding the sword, and gave it a sharp shake.
With a clang, the longsword was fully drawn.
The sword's clear and melodious sound lingered in the room for a moment before gradually dissipating.
As the sword was removed from the direct sunlight, its cold gleam instantly subsided. It was now a plain-looking longsword with a straight blade, its surface dull and lifeless, devoid of the imposing brilliance that had shone before.
"And what about now?" Wei Jia asked again.
Zhao Heng stared at the sword in the shadows. It hung silently in the shadows; it was just a sword.
"Its sharpness is not apparent," he said. "The design is ordinary."
Wei Jia walked back to the table and knelt down.
He placed the sword horizontally on the table, half of its blade in the light and half in the shadow. The part in the light still gleamed coldly, while the part in the shadow was dull and unassuming.
"I know you understand what I mean," Wei Jia said, "but I need to make myself clear—"
"When people see the sword's fierce gleam," he gently stroked the scabbard, moving it from the light to the shadows, "they become wary, as if facing a formidable enemy. But once the sword is in the shadows, covered in dust and its light dimmed, even though they know it is still a sharp blade capable of killing, their wariness diminishes by a third."
He raised his eyes, his gaze landing squarely on Zhao Heng's face.
"What I'm saying today is not to tell you to hide your strength."
Zhao Heng met his gaze without moving.
"Now that you've already shown your talent," Wei Jia continued, "your response in the front hall, that fleeting glimpse, will be remembered by those who are interested. Trying to pretend to be an ignorant child again is futile."
He reached out and pushed the sword completely into the shadows from where light and shadow met. The blade disappeared into the darkness, and the cold light vanished completely.
"What I'm going to teach you," he said, "is how to be a 'sword in the shadows'."
Zhao Heng couldn't help but ponder, "Does the teacher mean...?"
What are your strengths?
Wei Jia asked, but before Zhao Heng could answer, "You are the eldest grandson of the King of Zhao, and only eleven years old. This should be your 'dark side.' Others see you as a child, lacking in thought and acting clumsily. Even if you do something extraordinary, they can attribute it to youthful willfulness. This is a natural shield."
He tapped his fingers lightly on the table, once, twice.
"Why did they use the Handan youth to set this trap? Because you are also a 'youth.' This trap is crude and full of flaws, precisely because the trap setters see you as an ordinary child. They think that by pushing you into the water, you will either drown, be terrified, or take your anger out on the Qin hostage. No matter which way, they can achieve their goal."
Zhao Heng listened quietly. Sunlight shone on half of his face, while the other half was in shadow, creating a scene of light and shadow.
Wei Jia's voice remained calm:
"Let's set aside how they used the Qin hostage as a trap. They can use the young man from Handan, and aren't you a 'young man' yourself? Why should you, a mere Gao Qu, need to confront him squarely? Gao Qu's arrival today proves that King Zhao already knows about this. If you were to cry out from your sickbed, 'I miss my grandfather and wish to apologize in person,' and send someone directly to the palace, would King Zhao refuse to see you? Would Gao Qu possibly stop you?"
"Once you meet with King Zhao, there's no need for you to personally contend with a mere eunuch over the matters discussed in the hall today. King Zhao has his own eyes and ears, and he will make his own judgment. You don't even need to say much; just shed tears, show weakness, and act like a frightened grandson. The words that need to be said will naturally be said by those who need to say them."
When Wei Jia got to this point, he paused and said, word by word, "You are the eldest grandson of the King of Zhao, which is your greatest advantage. Yet today you abandon it and instead argue with him."
Zhao Heng's fingers curled slightly on his knees.
"Leverage influence without drawing attention," Wei Jia said in a calm tone, summarizing, "In today's situation, use status rather than brute force. This is the 'Sword of the Shadows.'"
Silence fell upon the room. The distant clamor of the city echoed faintly, emphasizing the stillness.
After a long silence, Wei Jia spoke again, bringing the topic back to the present.
"Let's go back to those young men from Handan. When you said earlier that 'they did nothing wrong,' did you truly believe they were innocent, or was it just a temporary excuse to avoid alerting them and to follow the trail later?"
This question was asked directly, with no intention of beating around the bush.
Zhao Heng paused for a moment, then said, "It's the latter."
Wei Jia smiled slightly; this was the first time he had shown a clear expression that day.
"The plan itself," he commented, "is certainly feasible. But there are three areas where you haven't considered things thoroughly."
Zhao Heng sat upright and listened attentively.
"Firstly," Wei Jia picked up the scroll of "Nine Transformations" from the table and unfolded it. "In Zhao, chivalry is highly valued, and the youth are especially impetuous. Even if you manage to capture one or two people, can you uncover the mastermind? Even if the youths confess, will the mastermind reveal their true name?"
He put down the bamboo slips.
"Secondly, if these young men are truly righteous men who hate Qin and acted spontaneously, what will you do? Can the Lord Chunping's mansion bear the name of slaughtering righteous men? The people of Zhao value martial prowess and righteousness; if they bear this name, they will find it difficult to move an inch in Handan."
"Thirdly," he looked at Zhao Heng, "and this is the most crucial point. You have already publicly stated that 'they are not at fault.' Once you say this, to investigate them privately would be to contradict your words and actions and break your promise. In Handan, losing the trust of a young master of a prefecture is far more harmful than letting a few teenagers go free."
As Zhao Heng listened, his fingers slowly loosened their grip on his knees. His palms were slightly sweaty, and the coarse linen felt cool to the touch.
Wei Jia picked up the scroll of "Nine Transformations" and pushed it in front of Zhao Heng. The bamboo scroll was unfolded, and one line of text was illuminated by the sunlight:
"...Therefore, the considerations of a wise person must be mixed with both benefits and harms. When benefits are taken into account, the matter becomes credible; when harms are considered, the problem can be resolved..."
Wei Jia lightly tapped the line of text with his finger.
"As I just said," he said, "now that you've already shown your talent, how can you hide it? Others will remember that fleeting glimpse. Since you've publicly stated that 'the young man from Handan is a righteous man for the country, and we will not pursue the matter,' why not truly let it go?"
Zhao Heng looked at the line of text, then looked up at Wei Jia.
"Externally," Wei Jia said, taking back the bamboo slips, "this matter is as follows: Eleven-year-old Prince Heng, longing for his father, acted clumsily and mistakenly befriended a Qin hostage, causing a disturbance. Fortunately, a righteous man from Handan enlightened him, and the prince suddenly realized his mistake and, being magnanimous, did not pursue the matter."
He rolled up the bamboo slips and put them back in their original place.
"In this way, once this matter is discussed openly and thoroughly, and becomes common knowledge, who will still truly believe that you are 'colluding with Qin'? You can also use public opinion to your advantage."
As he spoke, he looked at Zhao Heng, his gaze carrying a profound meaning.
"And your reputation for being 'magnanimous' and 'able to admit and correct your mistakes' may be more acceptable to some people than 'exceptionally intelligent'."
Zhao Heng sat there, remaining silent for a long time.
The sunlight had moved to his chest, and the indigo fabric of his clothes lightened in the light, almost turning blue-gray. He could feel the warmth of the light, but a chill ran down his back.
Then he got up.
He took two steps back and bowed deeply to the ground.
"What the teacher has taught today, the students will remember."
He immediately straightened up, his eyes clear yet sharp.
"But," he asked, "I have another question."
Wei Jia looked at him, gesturing for him to speak.
"Teacher, aren't you afraid that I, being young and inexperienced, might not understand the profound meaning of this 'Sword of Shadows,' or... misuse this technique?" Zhao Heng said slowly.
Wei Jia smiled again, then stood up, walked to the screen, and put the longsword back in its place. He paused behind the screen for a moment before stepping out again.
He walked back to the desk and sat down, taking something out of his sleeve.
A scroll of bamboo slips. The slips are yellowish-green, clearly newly made, the binding cord is bright, and it still carries the faint, fresh scent of the bamboo itself.
"I won't ask what you dreamed about," Wei Jia said calmly. "And don't try to hide your abilities from me."
Zhao Heng sneered.
This is a smile that only adults have, a smile tinged with helplessness and understanding. Appearing on the face of an eleven-year-old, it seems somewhat abrupt, yet strangely natural.
He bowed again.
Wei Jia accepted the greeting, then placed the bamboo slip on the table and pushed it in front of Zhao Heng before getting up.
"To wish you a speedy recovery, I present you with this gift."
Zhao Heng took it with both hands, but did not open it; he simply held it in his hands and looked up at Wei Jia.
"I have another question," he said. "I wish to visit Weifeng Lane again. What do you think, teacher?"
Wei Jia had already turned and walked towards the bamboo curtain. Upon hearing this, he stopped in front of the curtain and spoke with his back turned.
"To borrow your earlier words, 'When you're in Handan, sometimes doing nothing takes more courage than doing something.' However, I believe the reverse is also true."
Slight pause.
That concludes today's lesson.
The curtain fell, swayed gently a few times, and then remained still. Wei Jia's figure disappeared, his footsteps faded into the distance, and finally, all was silent.
Zhao Heng was the only one left in the room.
Sunlight filled half the room, and the new bamboo scroll lay quietly on the table, the bright color of the braided rope almost dazzling in the light.
Zhao Heng knelt on the spot for a long time.
He closed his eyes and thought about many things.
Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at the bamboo slip in his hand.
It unfolds slowly.
The book is untitled, and begins with five ancient seal characters.
"Guigu Breathing Technique".
Below are small, meticulously written annotations, filling three full bamboo slips. They describe breathing rhythms, the circulation of breath through the meridians, and key techniques. The language is simple and archaic, with some words even being obscure, but the logic is rigorous and forms a coherent system.
Zhao Heng's gaze lingered on those five words for a long time.
He then rolled up the bamboo slips and held them in his hand.
When he stood up, his knees felt a little numb. He steadied himself by holding onto the edge of the table, straightened his robes, and carefully put the bamboo slips into his bosom, placing them close to his inner garment.
Push open the door.
The spring sunshine outside the gate was beautiful, and the old apricot tree in the courtyard had indeed blossomed, its pink and white petals dotting the dark brown branches. When the wind blew, a few petals fluttered down and swirled on the bluestone slabs.
He squinted at the sky.
The sun was nearing its zenith, and the light was somewhat dazzling. He raised his hand to shield his eyes, then lowered it and took a deep breath.
The thread-like pain in my chest seemed to have lessened a bit.
He stepped down the stairs.
The bluestone path stretched out beneath my feet, leading into the depths of the courtyard, and also beyond this mansion, to the city called Handan.
------
"After Emperor Taizu recovered from his illness, his temperament changed slightly. On that day, the eunuch Gao Qu arrived at the palace on the emperor's orders. Upon hearing this, Emperor Taizu did not immediately go to see him, but instead hurried to his study to consult his teacher, Wei Jia. After receiving the essentials of dealing with the situation, he went to the front hall. At that time, Gao Qu was arrogant and wanted to establish his authority by executing him. Emperor Taizu followed Jia's instructions, analyzed the advantages and disadvantages, and was able to persuade Gao Qu to back down. However, after the matter was over and he returned to his study, Emperor Taizu showed a hint of pride. Jia saw this and used the sword as a metaphor for the Way, clearly explaining the principle of concealing one's strength and using one's resources wisely. Emperor Taizu was startled and changed his expression, bowing twice to receive the instruction."
From then on, Emperor Taizu outwardly appeared gentle and mild-mannered in his dealings with others, but his true intentions were deeply hidden. Even those close to him found it difficult to discern his true feelings. Therefore, people of his time could not fathom his true nature. — *New Book of Zhao*, Volume 1, Annals of Emperor Taizu Gao