Chapter Thirty-Six: When Paths Diverge, Cooperation Becomes Impossible

At this moment, Dou Xu opened his mouth, about to speak, but when he saw that Chu Youcai had answered what he himself intended to say, he was startled, a look of confusion appearing on his face.

The king was overjoyed and said, “Lotus is the princess’s childhood name. Mr. Chu, your answer is so fitting—could it be that you and the princess are fated to meet? Send word to the princess and have her come out to meet this gentleman.”

Not long after, the tinkling sound of exquisite jade pendants filled the air, and waves of orchid and musk fragrance, mingled with a woman’s delicate scent, drifted over, stirring and enchanting the heart.

Then, a princess of sixteen or seventeen, breathtakingly beautiful, approached with graceful steps, surrounded by several maids.

In that instant, as if the world held its breath for her arrival, all eyes were on her. On the far side, Dou Xu’s composure faltered; he fell into a trance, oblivious to the voices and movements around him, as if his world contained only the princess, as radiant as a lotus blossom.

Chu Youcai mused, “So this is Princess Lotus. Her beauty truly rivals that of Fairy Yun Cui.”

The princess ascended the great hall and exchanged courtesies with Chu Youcai. Her eyes were limpid as water, but Chu Youcai noticed a trace of sorrow within them.

He sighed inwardly at this—though the princess’s status in this world was extraordinary, she was bound by circumstance, her fate subject to others’ will, evoking his pity. In the end, such a woman was to be married to the somewhat timid Dou Xu—a life, it seemed, already written.

The king raised his cup in a toast to Chu Youcai, who drank without hesitation. Beside him, Dou Xu remained entranced, as if his soul had left him.

Seeing this, the king’s expression toward Chu Youcai softened further. He said, “Sir, your bearing is exceptional, your manners impeccable. My daughter is a rare beauty, learned and refined—a perfect match for you. Alas, I am ashamed that you are not of the same kind...” He sighed deeply, awaiting Chu Youcai’s response.

Princess Lotus, too, fixed her clear gaze on Chu Youcai, her heart in suspense.

Chu Youcai smiled slightly and replied, “Why should there be shame in this? The ancient sages taught us that the Way embraces all without distinction. Thus, it is said, ‘When paths diverge, we cannot plot together.’”

Hong Yu looked utterly baffled, while both Princess Lotus and Shangguan Wanru were momentarily stunned, curiosity lighting their faces. Only Dou Xu remained lost in his reverie.

The king asked, “Sir, how do you interpret this saying?”

Chu Youcai smiled and answered, “Most take the saying literally: ‘When paths diverge, we cannot plot together.’ But I disagree. If we reject others simply because their path differs from our own, is that not selfish? Can such narrowness be called the spirit of Confucianism?”

At this, everyone in the hall fell silent, staring at Chu Youcai, shaken as if their very understanding had been overturned.

Even Dou Xu snapped out of his daze, pondering the words deeply. He was a renowned scholar in Yanzhou City and a staunch follower of the Confucian Way. Because of this very saying, he had distanced himself from those with differing views, even old friends, concluding finally that “my path is destined to be solitary.” Now, as he turned Chu Youcai’s words over in his mind, a sudden clarity dawned within him.

The king inquired, “And what is your interpretation, sir?”

Chu Youcai continued, “Confucianism advocates harmony without uniformity: living together amicably, but not blindly agreeing. So, this saying—‘When paths diverge, we cannot plot together’—truly means that the sage’s Way does not permit blind conformity, nor should differences in appearance or thought be grounds for exclusion.”

The assembly was thunderstruck, hearts and minds shaken. Dou Xu, most affected, stood up and bowed respectfully to Chu Youcai, saying, “I humbly accept your teaching.”

In this moment, Dou Xu forgot the image of Princess Lotus; his mind was filled only with the sage’s Way as expounded by Chu Youcai. It was as though he were bathed in a clear spring, refreshed and enlightened, on the verge of joyous revelation had there been no audience.

The true Way, he realized, should be all-embracing; he had strayed from it before. With this thought, he gazed at Chu Youcai with respect and admiration.

Seeing the reactions around him, Princess Lotus’s face glowed with emotion; her eyes sparkled with delight as she looked at Chu Youcai. Hong Yu, though not fully understanding, felt a vicarious pride as she witnessed so many admiring Chu Youcai. Only Shangguan Wanru frowned slightly—while Chu Youcai’s explanation had merit, it was decidedly unconventional. Such a challenge to accepted wisdom would appeal to forward thinkers, but the more traditional Confucians might well denounce him utterly.

Observing the crowd, the king’s expression grew even more amiable. “Sir, your words are like thunder in my ears, like nectar to my soul. I am enlightened.”

Chu Youcai smiled: “You flatter me.” Yet inwardly he thought, Now the real drama begins.

The king then inquired, “Sir, with your great talent and virtue, I wonder—are you already wed?”

At this, Shangguan Wanru’s brow furrowed, and Princess Lotus lowered her head, a fleeting sadness passing across her brow—a detail that did not escape Chu Youcai’s notice.

He thought, So it is as I expected. He glanced at Princess Lotus, then replied solemnly to the king, “Your Majesty’s hospitality is beyond measure, and I am deeply grateful. I am already married, but thank you for your concern.”

The king paused, then asked, “May I ask—how does my daughter compare to your wife?” The question bordered on impropriety.

Chu Youcai answered, “Spring orchids and autumn chrysanthemums, each excels in its own season.”

The king shook his head. “Few in the world can rival my daughter’s beauty. If I betroth her to you, perhaps you would not find her beneath your notice?”

Chu Youcai was taken aback. “Princess Lotus is as lovely as a goddess—how could I possibly be worthy of such an honor?” He felt a wave of bewilderment; he was already married, and she was a princess—if she were made a co-wife, surely none in the palace would accept it.

“But—” the king’s tone shifted, “my daughter’s status is unique. She must be your principal wife.”

At these words, Shangguan Wanru’s face hardened, her eyes fixed on Chu Youcai with displeasure. She clenched the snow ape stone in her hand—if Chu Youcai dared betray her, she would deal with him here and now.

Chu Youcai thought, As expected. Others might have accepted, but not I. He shook his head resolutely. “I thank Your Majesty for your kindness, but I am deeply in love with Cui Xian, and my devotion is unwavering. I will never cast my wife aside, nor alter her status as my principal wife.”

His words were firm and unyielding.

At the same time, memories of Yun Cuixian’s every smile and gesture filled his mind, and a gentle warmth showed on his face.

PS: Writing characters, writing emotions, crafting a new world—slowly constructing the framework is no easy task. There are bound to be oversights; some passages go too far, others fall short. Even after many revisions, this is the best I can do.

Still, I am happy, for these words before you truly express what I wish to convey. They are the spirit of this work. Having written them, I feel a great sense of accomplishment.

Because of these plotlines, I am inspired to work harder, for they embody certain ideals of mine.

Dearest readers, if you have accompanied me this far, you are remarkable. We have found resonance—whether in plot, character, or emotion. Let us believe together that this book will only grow better.

Lastly, I hope you will continue to support the work, so it may shine ever brighter. Thank you.

Yours, Nangong.