Chapter 233: Gazing at the Figure Within the Landscape
Chapter 233: Gazing at the Figure Within the Landscape
While Zhao Zhen was studying the painting in his hands, a voice suddenly spoke up.
“This honorable brother…”
Zhao Zhen turned around to see a man with tied-back hair standing behind him. The man wore wide robes with long sleeves and had a kind face.
The man spoke: “I am Lu Shang. I spotted this painting upstairs a moment ago and simply couldn’t take my eyes off it. Regrettably, I was short on coin and failed to win the bid. My admiration for it runs so deep that I’ve dared to approach you. Might you permit me a look? Even one brief glimpse would suffice.”
Zhao Zhen appraised him for a moment, noting his refined speech and manner. He then handed over the painting.
“Certainly.”
“Thank you, honorable brother.”
Shang Lu lowered his head to examine the painting. His gaze settled on a faint greenish silhouette amidst the mountains and waters.
In that instant, an image flashed into his mind— exactly like the figure he had once seen in the Library Pavilion: the Green-Robed Gentleman, an immortal among mortals.
Wen Yi looked at this newcomer, noticing his focus on the silhouette. He asked, “Young Master Lu, are you gazing at the landscape, or at the figure within?”
Shang Lu raised his head, ready to reply, but then abruptly changed his answer.
“Naturally… at the landscape.”
Wen Yi glanced between the two men. He saw through the evasion but didn’t pry. “Once the painting changes hands,” he remarked, “it no longer concerns Wen.”
Zhao Zhen took the painting back and began rolling it up. He then inquired, “If what Young Master Wen says is true—that this was painted upon an encounter with an immortal—then why sell it now?”
Wen Yi sighed softly. “Years ago, during the chaos of war, my family faced hardships. Now, the cost of daily essentials like firewood, rice, oil, and salt weighs heavy. Selling this… it’s really our last resort…”
“I understand.” Zhao Zhen nodded.
Beside him, Shang Lu pondered silently.
Zhao Zhen offered no further questions. He simply looked up and announced his departure.
“The painting is now mine. I won’t linger any longer.”
“Farewell.”
As he left, Zhao Zhen cast one last glance at Shang Lu. Their eyes met, each instantly perceiving the unusual quality in the other.
After Zhao Zhen departed, Shang Lu turned back to Wen Yi.
Wen Yi asked, “Is there something else, Young Master Lu?”
Shang Lu asked a question: “Dare I ask… is the figure in that painting… surnamed Chen?”
For a single breath, Wen Yi’s eyes sharply narrowed. “You…?”
Shang Lu smiled gently. “It seems so. Young Master Wen’s brushwork is remarkable. That breathtaking stroke depicting the figure surprising the magnificent tower is exceptionally rendered. I offer thanks to Mr. Chen on your behalf.”
As Wen Yi stared, stunned, Shang Lu had already turned and walked out the door.
Wen Yi made a move to chase after him, but halted mid-step.
Why pursue and question someone? The painting was already sold.
Wen Yi sighed a breath of weary resignation. Suddenly, it felt like he had just let a monumental opportunity slip right through his grasp.
In that moment, bleakness washed over him. He slumped back, a wave of dejection settling in.
It only lifted when the Manager approached, placing the remaining seven hundred and fifty taels of silver—after deductions—before him.
Seven hundred and fifty taels.
“How can this be, how…” Wen Yi murmured with another sigh.
The Manager beside him inquired, “Young Master Wen has the money now. Why the gloom?”
Wen Yi shook his head. He offered no explanation.
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Leaving the wine tavern, Shang Lu spotted Zhao Zhen waiting by the street.
Their gazes found each other simultaneously.
Zhao Zhen stepped forward, clasping his hands in greeting. “Zhao Xinglong.”
“Young Master Zhao waited here specifically for me?” Shang Lu asked with a light smile.
“Both you and I recognize the extraordinary nature of that painting,” Zhao Zhen answered. “Earlier, when asked if we looked at the mountains or the figure within, we both—despite differing perspectives—gave the same answer.”
Zhao Zhen chuckled softly. “Since our judgment aligns, why not travel together?”
Shang Lu thought for a moment. “I head south,” he said. “Following the river to reach the Borderlands of the Southern Region. Does that lie along your route, Young Master Zhao?”
Zhao Zhen paused, visibly surprised. “My destination converges there. To Yan County by water, then overland to Anning County.”
A flicker of astonishment crossed Shang Lu’s eyes, but it vanished quickly.
“That is about eighty percent of my route,” Shang Lu determined.
Zhao Zhen pressed, “Shall we journey as companions?”
Shang Lu considered briefly, then smiled and agreed. “Excellent!”
Thus united, the two men mounted swift horses and rode out of Changchun Prefecture.
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Unseen in the shadows, two groups tailed them.
Yet, surprisingly, each group remained unaware of the other’s presence. They moved like ghosts kept apart by darkness.
Reaching the Tongtian River, the companions boarded a large boat.
Leaning on the gunwale, they chatted.
Shang Lu gazed at the waters. “It was aboard this very vessel that I journeyed north decades ago,” he mused. “Returning now… the sights… they hold a different meaning.”
Zhao Zhen nodded. “War reshaped much. Places rebuilt naturally carry different echoes.”
“That is true. Yet compared to those times, the realm feels… more fragmented now.”
“Fragmented?” Zhao Zhen’s interest was piqued. “How so?”
“Difference,” Shang Lu stated. “A wise man once told me that a nation’s stability hinges critically on its people’s welfare. Da Xiang has held the mantle for eight years, yet the realm remains fractured. Xiang people scorn Jing people. Jing people then resist inclusion even harder.”
“The starkest divide is north and south. Northern Wastes teem with Xiang folk; the Southern Region belongs to Jing families. This makes the empire feel fissured, split… unlikely to endure.”
Zhao Zhen immediately disagreed. “Those not of our kin harbor treacherous hearts. Even if they comply, their loyalty is suspect. Five years past, the Prince of Xiang suppressed multiple revolts. Three out of ten Jing people died. Rebels all meet death. Make them fear death, and the cracks vanish.”
Shang Lu asked with a faint smile, “But I recall a few years ago… reports surfaced. A Rebel Army rose in the Southern Region. Forces dispatched by the Prince took heavy losses trying to quell it.”
“They are mere ripples upon water,” Zhao Zhen dismissed.
Shang Lu responded, “I cannot accept your principle of crushing rebellion solely through bloodshed. Young Master Zhao. Governing an empire isn’t achieved by sheer killing. Launching a founding war requires legendary courage. For that, I admire the Prince. But ruling demands a kernel of mercy—even pretended mercy can foster coexistence. On this vital matter, I’m afraid the Prince… lacks entirely.”
Zhao Zhen scoffed. “Jing people nurturing rebellion? That is no fleeting phenomenon! To achieve enduring peace, root them out utterly! Uproot them! Destroy potential threats! Only then can threats be ended!”
“Can you execute them all?” Shang Lu’s voice held a hard edge.
“Even if falling short of total annihilation,” Zhao Zhen retorted, his tone unyielding, “we must kill until terror grips their core! Armor! Long sabers! Slash throats, extinguish lives! When surviving rebels find no kindred spirits, no pairs… then true peace descends!”
Shang Lu drew a long, steadying breath. He met Zhao Zhen’s gaze directly. “The aggression in your words, Young Master Zhao, is heavy indeed. Yet ambition burns alongside it. We hold divergent visions. It appears neither of us will sway the other.”
Zhao Zhen’s brow relaxed, revealing a surface calm. “Then by your measure,” he asked quietly, “what is the correct path?”
Shang Lu merely shook his head. “What point remains? You are firm in your conviction. Unless witnessed through your own eyes, you will forever cleave only to your own truths.”
Zhao Zhen fell silent then. His gaze drifted out over the vast expanse of the river’s surface.
In his heart, he found no fault in his beliefs.
This chaos plaguing the world? Only ruthlessness, only the swift strike, offered a true foundation for peace.