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"What fine scenery…"
Though the Xin River lacked the overwhelming majesty of the Yellow River, it possessed its own unique charm.
Azure sky, drifting white clouds, verdant hills, murmuring waters; mountain mists followed the river, carrying the fresh, crisp scent of the highlands, moist and soothing. One's restless mood unconsciously eased.
"…Surrounded by mountains and embraced by water—this is truly a first-rate feng shui treasure. Anyone buried here would surely produce nobles. Lord Fei of Shangjun has chosen a fine spot for himself…" Yu Fuluo remarked lightly, as though merely commenting on the weather between friends. No trace of anger or any other emotion could be heard.
Long years under sun and wind had bronzed his skin. He was sturdy, but not coarsely built; rather, he carried a wild, imposing air. His limbs were well-proportioned. Simply put: take Fei Qian, enlarge him by a circle, darken the complexion, and you had Yu Fuluo.
Perhaps due to mixed blood, Yu Fuluo had high cheekbones, long brows, deep-set eyes, and a square jaw—features that gave him a somewhat Caucasian look.
By later-world standards, Yu Fuluo could easily play the handsome male lead in an idol drama, or at the very least a healthy, dashing dark prince. But by Han aesthetic tastes, this appearance was simply "barbarian"—firmly in the ugly category.
"Does the Chanyu also understand geomancy?" Fei Qian pretended not to catch the sarcasm, and found it rather amusing. A Han knowing such arts would surprise no one, but a Xiongnu versed in feng shui was unexpected.
The origins and formation of feng shui studies evolved from the River Chart and Luo Book. Tracing its roots, it is inseparable from the principles of the Book of Changes. So, by the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, divinatory arts had already become an independent field of study. However, many elements within divinatory arts were later appropriated and absorbed by other schools of thought. For instance, the Book of Changes became part of Confucian learning, and alchemy became a Taoist skill. Nowadays, divinatory arts were left with things like yin-yang practices and shamanic divination, gradually falling from a position equal to Confucianism and Taoism.
Yu Fuluo smiled. "I know a little." Fei Qian's refusal to rise to the bait was like punching empty air; Yu Fuluo had no way to follow up.
Fei Qian gestured to the low table beside them. "I wasn't sure whether the Chanyu preferred tea or wine, so I prepared both. The tea is famous Han tea; the wine is strong northern liquor. Which would the Chanyu like?"
Yu Fuluo's eyes flickered as he stared at the smiling Fei Qian. After a pause, he leaned slightly forward. "What if I want both?"
"Tea clears the stomach, disperses accumulation, dispels heat and poison. One bowl is like a cool breeze passing through the sleeves—mind clear, spirit calm. Wine stirs heroic spirit, drives out cold, ignites hot blood. One bowl is like raging fire burning through the gut—passions aroused, vigor boundless." Fei Qian paused, then met Yu Fuluo's gaze unflinchingly. "But drink both together, and you ruin the tea and spoil the wine. In the end, you have nothing."
Yu Fuluo slowly sat back. "Then may I ask whether Lord Fei of Shangjun prefers tea or wine?"
"I am a Han person, so naturally, I prefer tea," Fei Qian said matter-of-factly, seemingly without hesitation, while also adding mentally, 'though sometimes I also drink wine.'
Yet Yu Fuluo still did not choose. Instead he said, "Lord Fei, you should know the north has no fine tea—only strong wine…"
"Isn't that perfect? I have fine tea, while the Chanyu…" Fei Qian smiled, "…I wonder if you have fine wine?"
"Lord Fei may not have fine tea either," Yu Fuluo said with a faint sneer. "Tea bricks left out of their boxes turn damp and rot in the blink of an eye."
Fei Qian glanced at the glints of cold steel dotting the hills above the Xin River. "Ah, thank you for the reminder, Chanyu. I will be sure to pack my tea bricks very carefully—guaranteed not to break or shatter… As for the Chanyu's wine, one must also be careful. If the jar breaks, it will all flow away—clean, leaving nothing behind."
Yu Fuluo followed his gaze to the hills, then quickly looked away as if stung. He blinked and said gravely, "No matter how hard the box, there will come a day it is smashed open."
Fei Qian shook his head and did not take the bait. Clearly, Yu Fuluo was willing to sit and talk—he was reluctant to use force. With what little foundation he had left, he could not afford many pitched battles.
The Xiongnu system was a contest of tribal size: big fish ate small fish, small fish ate shrimp. If Yu Fuluo himself became battered and tottering, even those Southern Xiongnu who might wish to follow him would hesitate.
His situation was not unlike Fei Qian's: every step had to be taken with utmost caution. One misstep and the road back to the royal court would stretch infinitely farther. The difference was that Yu Fuluo did not know Fei Qian's full hand, while Fei Qian knew exactly what Yu Fuluo ultimately wanted.
Fei Qian pointed to the three-colored banner fluttering above the Beiqu camp. "Does the Chanyu know the origin of my tri-colored flag?"
Yu Fuluo shook his head.
"Though unworthy, by the grace of the Emperor I hold three offices: one from the central court, one as Administrator of Shangjun, and the third…" Fei Qian watched Yu Fuluo closely, noting the slight change in his expression, "…Captain under the General Who Protects the Xiongnu."
Yu Fuluo's pupils contracted. He had always thought Fei Qian merely the Administrator of Shangjun and paid little attention to his other titles. But "General Who Protects the Xiongnu" struck his heart like a heavy hammer.
The authority of that general was immense—even the General Who Crosses the Liao was subordinate to him. He commanded nearly all military forces in the north; it was a critical frontier post.
Though Fei Qian was currently only a Biebu Sima under that general, with the court having appointed no actual General Who Protects the Xiongnu, unless someone were sent directly from the capital, Fei Qian was effectively the first in line for the position.
After a long silence, Yu Fuluo said, "In that case, Lord Fei… er… how exactly should I address you?" By the Eternal Blue Sky, he had never seen a Han official holding so many posts at once and truly didn't know the proper form of address.
"Just call me Administrator of Shangjun," Fei Qian laughed, as if telling a joke. "It's just that my current 'Shangjun Administrator'… is rather like the Chanyu's own 'Chanyu'…"
Yu Fuluo frowned. "What do you mean by that, Lord Fei?"
Fei Qian's smile vanished; he spoke gravely: "Exactly what I said."
Yu Fuluo was silent for a long time, then said, "Very well. Then first return my men to me."
"That can be arranged," Fei Qian said leisurely, "but… last time I transported goods, twenty men died, four wagons were lost, and horses…"
"Thirty horses," Yu Fuluo stated firmly.
Fei Qian shook his head. That exchange was far too unfavorable. "Sixty."
Yu Fuluo pondered, then said slowly, stressing each word: "At… most… forty."
Fei Qian thought for a moment and lifted his tea bowl.
Yu Fuluo likewise raised his wine bowl.
They looked at each other, smiled, toasted, and drained their cups in one go…