Checkmate: The Emperor's Last Wish [Part i]

[personified]

The gold pendant on the handle of his sword jumped around as he fought bravely in the war - no doubt a definite fight-to-death situation, in comparison to the one they had back in the borders of Xiongnu.

His sweat trickled down his neck and down the armor-clad body under the warm sun, so did the few thousand other valiant warriors. They were all fighting with the same goals in mind: To overtake Xiongnu, and bring pride to their beloved emperor. Every single time they were involved in a battle for their country; no matter how small-scaled it was, blood would be shed. Lives would be lost and the agonizing cry of pain from the families of whom used to be their comrades would continue replaying in their minds for life.

Haunting them, scarring them.

To them, the emperor was their life. They have lived and trained for years just for a moment of glory - or not, when they were barely pawns for the war. When they were lucky, they would finish up the entire battle within two months, but that was only possible when Emperor Wu and the First Prince was there to fight alongside with them. Both of them were China’s pride, and there was no way the guards would let them come to harm. Not especially when the Third General was around; he would always be watching over the First Prince, and making sure he stays safe - at least till the end of the day. They fought as a duo, and kept the other alive like a guardian.

The morale was always high when the emperor and his son were there, and ‘impossible’ was not recorded in their dictionary. Blood as a stream of river was inevitable, and after every battle comes a time when they would gather to offer their incenses and prayers. A gallant knight who has his life taken in a war, fighting for his country deserved nothing but the utmost respect and honor. Bodies that were not mutilated would be carried back in a caravan, covered with a piece of white cloth and sent back to their families. The hardest part was not having to hear them cry, but when a grey-haired family member staggers their way to the corpse, and end up having to send their only son off in the worst way possible.

Third General Huang ends the day by retreating back into his quarters - the candles in the chamber already lit, and the flames flickering in the wind. Neither him nor the hundreds of other palace maids and eunuchs that patrol the palace at night finds it weird. It was a common occurrence that took place after every succession in the battlefield; someone would sneak into the Third General’s chamber at night and no one ever leaves till three days was over. The door only ever opens when the food was delivered over - and only the old palace maid Meng Ning was allowed to enter. She would walk in, carrying an entire tray of food before she leaves in haste. Eunuchs have said that during their patrols deep in the night, when no one else was awake, soft, submissive whimpering could be heard. Rumor that it was the Third General’s lover had spread like wildfire; something that he had never gotten round to admit - but not denying either.

In all honesty, Third General Huang was an ideal man. He was tall, brave, and young. Not to mention that he was rather good-looking, and not scrubby like the other generals. The way he handled a sword was graceful like a swan - his movements were quick and precise, rendering an enemy speechless as they fell onto their knees and the blood pooled at their feet. There was no other need for him to hesitate in sliding his carefully forged sword, which was made by the best blacksmith in the country, and bestowed to him with the highest honor from the emperor.

The Third General vividly remembers the day when he had first came into the palace, his knees were trembling and he had taken his claim on a spot - behind the First General and had refused to face the rest of the crowd. Barely seven then, he sobs when the Empress Dowager takes him in her arms and tells him to not cry, for one day, he shall be as brave as his father and fight for the country. To protect China from Xiongnu - to wipe out the barbaric Manchurians and eliminate the Mongolians. It was not till he turned ten, that the Third General had finally got to meet the First Prince of China.

The First Prince acted exactly like how he had expected; very well educated, but obnoxious. He had refused to acknowledge the presence of Third General Huang when they were introduced to the other as playmates - the First Prince unwilling to socialize with boors. The former sobbed his way back to the chambers while he stammered on his words, trying to wonder just what had he done to make the First Prince dislike him that much. They have never even seen the other before, not to say speak to the other!

Just so, the Third General had refused to speak to the First Prince despite many times of persuasion from his father. So what if they person they were dealing with was the Imperial Family of China? If all they was were nothing but trouble, he would rather befriend a horde of rats and get eaten alive by them than having to talk to the First Prince.

Alas, there came a time when Third General had turned fourteen, and was forced to teach the First Prince martial arts. Not that the latter wasn’t versed in the one hundred and fifty ways to take a man down with a sword, but a imperial decree had actually been issued for Third General Huang to train the First Prince on one-to-one hand combat. It was only their second official meeting since that fateful day - and things did not go as well as what was expected either.

“The First Prince has arrived!” a shrill voice pierced the deafening silence; killing the Heart Sutra he had been meditating in his mind.

Zi Tao could not help but scowl when the other steps in with his high and mighty attitude - something which was not entertained on his territory. This person could be the Emperor himself for all he could care, but no one should ever disregard the teachings of Shaolin and the Eighteen Arhats. They not only help one seek enlightenment, but also educate one on their many ways of dealing with problems.

And this boy… He has neither patience nor the resolve to learn. He may be the First Prince and literate, but his words reflect his personality like water in the well when the moon is majestically hung up in the night sky - clear to read. While Zi Tao was not taught how to read and write while growing up, he has understood the virtue of how keeping silence was the best bet in specific occasions.

Zi Tao only smiles when the First Prince takes his seat on the stone stool next to the pond, throwing glances over to the Koi fishes occasionally. Neither acknowledges their presence till it was almost time for the Prince to retreat to his quarters, for it was calligraphy lessons next.

“You have to pardon your humble servant for the silence, Prince. I have not been feeling very well ever since you stepped in.” Zi Tao says, a lob-sided smile present on his lips.

The First Prince did not bother to say anything other than a ‘Y-You!’ constantly being repeated. He slams his palm down on the cool granite, only to regret moments after when a resounding sound reverberates throughout the entire garden, his hands turning red.

“If your humble servant may boldly ask, but by any chance, is the Prince familiar with the teachings of Yue Fei?” he slowly pronounces every word as though time was not a factor at the moment.

“Are you being serious here? Of course I am. One of the greatest generals in China’s history - I have been learning all about him ever since I was ten! I am seventeen now.” The First Prince boisterously says, chest puffed out with pride.

“That is a relief to hear, then. So I suppose you are familiar with the six ways for deploying an army?” Zi Tao asks, only to hold out a hand when the other attempted to answer.

“Because from what I am seeing here, is nothing like the exemplary rules of how a good leader should act.”

“How dare you speak to me like this, you filthy peasant.” The First Prince spat, eyes squinting in disgust, “I am the First Prince of China, and you are nothing but a brat who knows nothing!”

Zi Tao chuckles as the other continued to rage in the corner next to the pond, he honestly hopes the First Prince could understand what he was trying to imply. He took a couple of steps back and slowly slid out the sword his father had given to him on his eleventh birthday. Crouching on his right leg with the left extended into a straight line, he waves his sword in the air and sliced the wind.

“Sire, I speak of nothing but the truth. For one, you do not treat your men as an equal.” Zi Tao gathers the sand around his feet into a bumpy circle and lightly steps on it to even out the surface.

“From the way I see, First Prince draws an exceedingly clear line between who one should befriend, and on which basis. Without feelings of respect, what is there to distinguish men from beasts?”

The tip of Zi Tao’s sword starts at the top of the sand made circle, before it was lightly guided down to make separate them into looking like two curved water droplets. “We are like the Yin and Yang; First Prince would be the Yang, for you are the sun and the sky to us, and we will do everything we can to protect you.”

The First Prince sniggers at that, counting that the crude child still knew of his place. No one would ever disrespect him knowing he could send any of them for beheading in accounts of showing impudence.

“However, we are your Yin; never to overshadow you. The Yin and Yang cannot be spoken about without reference to the other, as we are bounded as one. The First Prince may be born into the imperial family, but without your maids and servants, there would be no food spread on your dinner table every night. Without us, your lowly guards, it is impossible for the nobles to stay safe.

“It is the same for us, no matter. If the nobles did not exist, we would not know what we should do with our skills as well. We are polar opposites, but somehow, we are interdependent on another. If there is a rise to the Yang, do not expect the Yin to stay the same.

“That is, of course, if you understand the true meaning of Yue Fei’s teaching to have a close fellowship with one’s men.” Zi Tao carefully turns the handle of his sword to create two little wells in both of the separated water droplets.

By the end of his speech, the First Prince was so fumingly mad that he could hardly see anything else while being blinded by anger. How dare this insolent little rat lecture him on his principles! He is the First Prince, and not only did this boy not greet him like the way he should, but he was also acting insolent. This atrocity shall not be tolerated under his watch. “Yue Fei also mentioned about strict discipline - and for your impudence, I will tell my father on you! He will not take this lying down!” the First Prince exclaimed, fists balled up at his side and quaking in outrage.

Zi Tao chuckles and slides his sword back into the sheath, placing it back on the table. “I am afraid your complaints will be ignored, First Prince.” A breeze blew past, causing the red dangling threads below the jade pendant hung on Zi Tao’s sword to float in the wind.

“What do you mean by that? Explain yourself, rat.” He spat out in distaste.

“I do not think you know who I am, and what I am supposed to do, First Prince.” Zi Tao gently places his hand on the fluttering red threads, effectively stopping them. “I am the son of the First General, and I am here to train you for your first martial arts combat against Zheng Kui’s son set in six months time. The outcome of your duel does not affect my life in any way, but as it is a promise set with my father, I shall adhere to it. I would like to make things clear, nonetheless.

“This is neither about our achievements in academics, nor is it on how wealthy one is - this is about martial arts. Even though I may be younger, but I promise that my skills do not fall under-par. If any, I dare say it’s highly above yours.” Zi Tao snickers, picking up his sheathed sword and slides it out once more.

“The Emperor has sealed the deal with Father, and I will be training you for the next few months whether you like it or not. If you wish to go against The Emperor’s wishes, I will not hold you back for it is your dignity that would be trampled on by Zheng Ke.”

The indignity the young first prince was feeling had to be swallowed as Eunuch Fu walks in to notify that it was time for his calligraphy lesson. He does not leave before throwing a pebble at Zi Tao’s sword, and miserably failing to hit its intended target.

“I will not take orders from someone who is younger than me!” he yells.

“A man who does not think and plan long ahead will find trouble right at his door.” Zi Tao mumbles, shaking his head at the same time. “I am looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, First Prince. I would like to warn you, nevertheless. We will start on proper training first thing at dawn, so please do not be late. As what Yue Fei had done once, punishing a diligent soldier for stealing a rope; punishment shall not be light. Have a nice day at calligraphy lessons, First Prince.” He nods over to the Eunuchs and imperial guards standing by the entrance, signaling that they could now escort the prince back for resumption of lessons.

Things were frustratingly tragic when the First Prince went back into his chambers, causing a ruckus and throwing a tantrum over not wanting to undertake training from that insignificant, insolent little commoner.

“Just who does he think he is!” he throws a vase at the maid, barely hitting her and crashing right at the cherry wood tabletop.

“I am the First Prince of China, an-“

“And you shall listen to First General Huang’s son. I am not taking ‘no’ for an answer, Wu Fan. You will not put me to shame by losing to Zheng Kui’s fourth son.” A deep and loud voice bellowed throughout the entire chamber, causing the First Prince to stop in his ministrations.

The Emperor’s words stung like a harsh reality check, knocking the First Prince out of his reveries. How could his very own father side with someone he barely knew, and go against his wishes? This has never happened before. Why did he even need lessons in martial arts when he had all hundred and seventy-four different art of swords mastered?

“But Father, out of all the skilled martial artists we have, is it really a necessity to pick someone who is younger than me? He does not show any respect to me, even though he’s just a lowly serv-” the First Prince paused in his words when the Emperor slammed his hand against the table.

“You do not say that of the First General’s child!” the Emperor raised his voice, only to let out a despaired sigh.

“My child,” he started, “that boy I have appointed to you, is no ordinary boy.”

“I know - he’s the son of the First General. But he’s still younger than me! Rather than losing the match to Zheng Ke, my dignity has already been trampled on being trained by a barbaric kid like him.” the First Prince whined, slightly lifting his robes and stomping his feet on the floor.

“More than just the son of the First General.” The Emperor gestured for the palace maid to pour him a cup of brewed tea, “His name is Huang Zi Tao, and of course, being the only son of the First General, there was much anticipation of him following his father’s footsteps. When he had barely turned four, Huang Bo sent his only son to the Shaolin monastery, and he grew up to be a fine and humble child. He has taken the title as a champion countless times despite his young age. Both Zheng Kui and Huang Bo’s son trained side-by-side ever since they entered the monastery, but Zheng Kui had Zheng Ke withdrawn when Zi Tao had battered him in a mock up training fight. A rife started between them since then, and both generals have pinned their hopes to their only child. Initially, the thought that having Zi Tao train you might scare Zheng Ke enough and urge them to give up crossed our minds, but only ended up with them upping the stakes.

“My child, if you lose the competition, the First General will back down from his spot and be sent out for beheading.”

The First Prince’s eyes widened at the thought of having the nation’s first general going under decapitation. General Huang Bo was a brave and wise man; he had not only led the country to victory on the battlefield more than once, but the strategies he came up with were a usual all-kill. He heard from a surviving soldier that General Huang had taken on more than forty soldiers at once, and only with a spear did he take them down. There was no way…

“There is no way that he would agree to go through with this had he known his father would be killed! N-No, Father, do not lie to me.” He stammers, refusing to believe.

A despondent furrow of his eyebrows graced the Emperor’s stern look. “And that is why Huang Bo did not tell his son of the bet. In other words, it is all up to you, my child. As your father, and as the ruler of China, I am asking you to put all pride of yours aside, and learn under him. After all, Confucius has once said, ‘humility is the solid foundation of all virtues.’.”

“But Confucius also said to have no friends not equal to yourself!” the First Prince rebutted immediately.

“I am not asking for you to befriend him, my child. It will only take six months, and that is all. We cannot bear to lose the First General, for he has too much contribution to the country in his hands. With his bloodstained hands, Huang Bo has done more than protecting China. Making the commoners’ safety as his priority, is something your father, I, cannot do. I live for the country’s interests, and I will die doing so. Wu Fan, my son, you will take over my position as the Emperor one day, and shall understand why things are not as simple as it is. The decision has been made, and the date has already been set. On this very same day in six months’ time, you shall be on the same stage as Zheng Ke to save China’s very own prized pride that is Huang Bo.” The Emperor placed a hand on the First Prince’s back, lightly patting him.

“…”

“Yes, Father.”

“Your stance is wrong. Stretch your foot out even more. Your hands should not be clenched in fists, you are not trying to punch anyone.”

Zi Tao placed his own feet behind the First Prince’s, nudging them out. He pushed down on the other’s shoulders and kneed him at the back. “Your left hand should almost touch your corresponding foot, and your right foot should not be heeled. A stable pose is a must in martial arts, but yours is a far cry from what we are looking for.”

“Rubbish!” the First Prince snorted, getting up from his strained position and flexing his sore muscles. “You are just trying to get back over what I said a couple days back. Otherwise, I would not still be doing this useless thing. And here I am, thinking that all martial artists are like the First General.” He scoffed.

“First Prince, you are just not putting in enough effort. We only have less than six months, but you are unwilling to learn.”

“If it was not for your father’s sake…” The First Prince trailed off at the end, remembering that the other had no idea of the bet that was going on. “I would rather be in my chamber reading.”

“One who believes all of a book would be better off without books.”

There was a pregnant silence when the breeze came down, the leaves ruffling on the branches and drifted in the wind. That was the very first time the First Prince had noticed Zi Tao for the boy he was…

His eyes were shaped like the crescent moon, and the slight parting of his lips showed the upper set of his teeth.

Zi Tao let out a soft chuckle when a crusty leaf had landed right on the First Prince’s head, and he reached out to brush it off for the oblivious other. He could not help but retreat a step when the latter cleared his throat, reminding him that they were still in the midst of their training.

“You know about Mencius?” the First Prince asked, looking at the dull grey wall.

“…Yes” Zi Tao nodded his head, his hands still reached out from the previous act. “We were taught the philosophies ranging from Confucius to Mencius, and from appreciating Cao Cao’s thoughts all the way down to Kong Ming’s wise words.”

“Ah, Zhuge Liang. One of the greatest to have ever lived… I never knew they taught that in monasteries.”

…And for a brief moment, the young prince felt as though his heart had stopped beating.

Zi Tao tried to cover his mouth with the back of his hand while laughing - his sleek fingers slightly curled and his eyes were just disappearing in slits. He was cackling up so hard that his sword had turned into a cane to support him lest he fell over laughing.

The moment had been so magical for the young prince, but there was no logical reason to explain why his heart had seemingly stopped at one second, but started pounding painfully against his chest in the other.

“For a First Prince, you’re really silly!” Zi Tao calmed himself down, his lips still sewn in a smile, nevertheless. “They don’t teach that in the monasteries. Father had a tutor over to educate me. He was never over often though, so he would pass me books to read once every six days during the time of Wu, and if I ever had trouble with words, I would ask Abbot Li. It was just me and Sun Tzu’s Art of War for three months when the winter came. Chapter ten of the book, in ‘Situational Positioning’ he says, ‘treat your men as you would your own beloved sons. And they will follow you into the deepest valley’. Father told me he lived with and trusted only the men whom he walks into the battlefield with, for without the lower laymen, not even the strongest will survive in a war of blind strength. Had Liu Bei not joined forces with Sun Quan, the Battle of the Red Cliffs would not have turned out victorious for them, even with Kong Ming and Zhou Yu.

“Cao Cao was never a man of honors, and everyone knew that. But what was it that compelled his two-hundred-thousand strong army follow him, even though they knew it was all a road to death?” Zi Tao let out a soft sigh at the end.

He looked over at the First Prince, waiting for any form of answer as the other stood and continued to stare at the wall. Zi Tao exhaled and turned around, stepping on the crisp fallen leaf at the same time. “It was because he treated his soldiers like they were his equal, First Prince. The reason why he had lost was not due to the fact that he did not have a Kong Ming or Zhou Yu; but he was not ready for peace. As they say, in peace prepare for war, in war prepare for peace. A man with a mind as messy as Cao Cao’s will not strive in times of confusion.

“First Prince, it is understood that being born into the imperial family assures you the best literary education in the country. However, books are merely dead words, and do not explain to you the ways of life. They can hold an infinite amount of visionary works, but they cannot show you the true meaning it captures. Xunzi once said, ‘the rigid cause themselves to be broken; the pliable cause themselves to be bound.’ and this is very much applicable to what you are in now.”

“…”

There was a short silence that punctuated the end of Zi Tao’s words, but long enough to allow the First Prince to realize what predicament he had gotten involved in. A man’s life was at stake, and said man was no one other than the Zhou Yu of their century - a man of Huang Bo’s caliber was something China could not lose. He had the wits of Zhuge Liang, and his skills on the field of battle could rival Guan Yu’s.

“Wu Fan.” The First Prince murmured.

Zi Tao only swiveled back and stared at him in bewilderment, unsure of what exactly the young prince had meant.

“My name is Wu Fan - it is nothing but an annoyance if you keep calling me ‘First Prince’.” The First Prince turned his head slightly to the left, but kept his eye contact with the dusty ground.

“Call me by name from now on… It’s an order.” He bit down on his lower lip and walked towards the awaiting eunuchs by the entrance, but only to stop hesitantly in his steps when the other called out for him.

“Wu Fan,” the younger boy muttered, “training starts at the crack of dawn, the time of Mao, so do not be late.”

Wu Fan nodded disappointedly, lanky arms placed sturdily by his side as he walked off, but to be halted once again by the young martial artist.

“Do not forget your sword.” The heavy object was slid back into its place, on the belt of the First Prince’s robe.

“And I am sure you know it by now, but my name is Huang Zi Tao. I would appreciate it if you called me Zi Tao, instead of ’Stupid Brat.” He held his hand out to the direction of the walkway, noting that a couple of the servants were sheepishly smiling, overhearing the conversation both boys had exchanged before. “I will not send you out any further, Father has said he will be introducing me to the soldiers today. Do have a fruitful day, First Pri- Wu Fan.”

“I see that old habits die hard.”

“No. If so, it would’ve actually been ‘Snobbish Prince’ atop of anything else.”

Chuckling, Wu Fan nods and heads off for the tea appreciation he had promised his mother of. Apparently, a new grade of Long Jin tea had been shipped in from eastern China, and the commoners were making sticky cakes out of tea now. The thought of infusing two of their basic necessities only proved that the people were starting to improvise. As young as Wu Fan was, he did not turn a blind eye towards the needs of people; occasionally, he would take a stroll on the streets with a guard by his side, yet not one commoner would recognize that he was the First Prince of China.

Growing up, Wu Fan had learnt how to appreciate poetry and play the Guzheng; turning into his hobby over time. When academics had turned into more than just simply learning, a simple piece of music could calm him down. There was once where an oblivious street performer had left his instrument in the care of the First Prince, and the latter had ended up playing a piece while the performer went to the lavatory.

Over the next couple of weeks, training was much more worthwhile, with Wu Fan finally being able to master the basic stances. Every shift of his position was strong and steady even though every fiber within him was aching for a rest.

To base each movement on one’s instinct.

To channel one’s strength into one’s limbs in a hand-to-hand combat attack;

Your fingers are the daggers.

Your fists are the western guns.

Your arms are the swords.

Your body is the shield.

Your legs are the spears.

The world was indeed much bigger than what the books had portrayed. It might have told him that a war was nowhere as peaceful like how the words stayed in their places on sheepskin booklets, and that strategic planning was just as important as their strongest battalion - but where did the explanation for the questions he had go to?

”If fighting is sure to result in victory, then you must fight.”

The strongest Commander whom the First Prince had learned his sword skills from was no match for a young boy like Zi Tao; so who was a mere being like Wu Fan to have refused such a benefitting experience? He had easily came to terms that not everyone was like him - some were better, and the rest were worse off… That if you knuckled someone on the neck hard enough, it meant either an immediate death, or a lethal paralysis. To never attempt a kick at someone on their bones because ‘No, we do not have sufficient time to work on your kicks. Your ankle is not carrying up enough strength due to your thighs being unable to pick up a fast speed.’, and apparently his kicks were only effective when he was targeting for the waist.

“To know your enemy, you must become your enemy.”

Placing himself in the opponent’s shoes and looking through a window of what they see. He was to objectify everything and analyze what would be the next possible step, after-all, he is his very own enemy. If one was created with the thought of achieving enlightenment in mind, what was a rubble met on the way? What was a little pride and greed to trip you over, when you had a goal to meet? Wu Fan thinks that he was doing a noble job for China; going against Zheng Ke to save Huang Bo’s life. Which he was, indeed, doing something right.

“Why is it so important for them to win this?”

“If Zheng Ke wins the fight, he will be the Third General, and his father will usurp the title as First General. According to the messenger, Zheng Kui has been meeting up with envoys belonging to the Manchurians, and that he has plans to eliminate four of the Five Tiger Generals. No life shall be spared.”

The truth was now coming to light, as to why his father had insisted on him going all out for this battle. It had been more than just a fight to retain a man’s dignity - it was to save the entire Wu Empire.

Zheng Kui was a tyrannical warlord, but the Emperor cannot put him down once and for all, for it will set the army apart, and the Xiongnus will seize the opportunity to further instigate an internal warfare. All he had ever wanted was to help the barbaric Manchurians in uniting the land; and it was not the Wu, who would rule. If the empire lands in their hands, China was as good as done. He knew that Wu Fan, with how stubborn he was, would never bow to someone of a descent like Zi Tao, and thus decided that the afore planned will not come to bear fruit.

“Wu Fan, you must remember.”

“Pride and excess brings disaster for man.”

“Learn as though you would never be able to master it; hold it as though you would be in fear of losing it.”

“Speed is the essence of war,”

To take advantage of the enemy’s unpreparedness; travel by unexpected routes and strike him where he has taken no precautions. It was a dirty and underhanded trick - but if it worked, nothing would really matter. An upright man who withholds to justice was a gentleman, but it lands him into nothing but trouble due to his refusal. Fear was the root of all problems - with fear streak comes a reign of terror… be it from within, or by a stronger force breaking in.

In a way, the battle was similar to a war. They fight for a cause, and something that would change the entire course of their future. There is always a good, and the bad - but then again, to one, the other would always be the rebel. To judge whether one is right or wrong is not justice; for we all know the truth deep in our hearts. Maybe, to Zheng Ke, his father was someone of moral uprighteousness, and the idea of him sending China to her grave was utter absurdity. After all, how was it possible that the third general of the Eastern Jin Dynasty was helping the Manchu Xiongnus in overthrowing the emperor?

In another way, a war was just the same like a game of chess. Play your pieces right, and they would succeed, but the redemption of a wrong step was often harsh and unpredictable.

Things are very much different when observed under another point of view, where there will never be an answer to the question of who was in the right or wrong, till the situation has blown over and quandaries crushed. Even so, there are always two sides of a story, and neither could be trusted. Confucius spoke of giving oneself to justice, and Mencius spoke of sacrificing for righteousness. Conflicts are always bound to arise no matter how peaceful one is; all that leaves to question, was how credible they were. “In the world, there is nothing more submissive and weak than water… Yet to attack it is difficult and strong - nothing can surpass it. Be like the water; be flexible and impossible to predict.”

The rest of his days before the competition were spent on vigorous training which started at the first sighting of light by the rising sun, only to end when the stars littered all across the sky. The First Prince could barely notice the vast change in his personality, where he was no longer the same egotistical boy he had used to be. Who would have ever guessed that a simple friendship that had blossomed between two boys could bring out such a change within another? Not to say, the brotherhood shared had only upped the Emperor’s trust in the First General.

Time was slowly running out as each month sprinted past, and training with Zi Tao only got more rigorous. They would engage in sparring matches, the young martial artist giving out pointers with every move Wu Fan made. All other lessons had been paused in preparation for the fight; there was hardly anyone in the Kingdom who had not heard of the battle. There were bets going around, and stakes of Zheng Ke’s win was high - for a general’s son will not lose to an educated noble like the First Prince himself… Not that they knew of Zi Tao, since to them, the latter has gone into conflicts with the prince more than once, and the pride of a man should never be left undignified.

“Your chest should be puffed out in pride, First Prince.”

A pat on the back was sent to Wu Fan’s way, fingers moving around as they adjusted the armor he had donned on. It had been less than two months away from the date, when it was declared that a weapon of their choice was allowed.

“Do not forget, when anger rises, think of the consequences. Execution must be based on precision and careful thinking, but prolonged thinking will only cause more harm. What is essential in war,” Zi Tao lifted a hand to adjust the headgear Wu Fan had on, his smile never once leaving.

“Is victory.” He whispers, grabbing onto the sword on the stone bench and brought it up to the prince’s chest.

A soft gasp escaped Zi Tao’s lips when he felt the warmth of the other pressed against him, the weapon falling onto the dusty floor. The armor felt so hard and cold when they met his thin cotton garments, but all he could think of was how cruel the high heavens could actually be. Had they really spent six months with the other, or was it just a joke, for an awful lot of time that had sounded, was over within the blink of an eye.

“I might die out there today.” the First Prince murmured, arms snaking around Zi Tao’s back and gripping onto his sides.

“If Zheng Ke does end up winning, and you do not come out alive, I am afraid I would have to kill him to redress my grievance.”

“Did you not just say, ‘when anger rises, think of the consequences’?”

“That is only applicable in war, Prince. You are…” Zi Tao’s lips quivered as he lightly pushed himself away from the embrace, “I will not take things lying down when someone whom I-”

“First Prince, the drums have been sounded. The time of Wu is approaching.” A husky voice sounded from across the closed doors, interrupting what the martial artist had to say.

Giving a hum of approval, Wu Fan looks back to the other desperately, waiting for Zi Tao to complete his incomplete sentence. He was only left disappointed when the latter fully pulled away to pick up the fallen sword. “I will not take things lying down, for you are my closest friend.” His tone came out as bitter as the winter sky, but Zi Tao quickly gained composure as he once again thrust the heavy weapon into Wu Fan’s chest.

“Friendship is one mind in two bodies… When you unsheathe this sword, it would just be as though I am fighting alongside with you.”

Roughly grabbing onto the younger boy’s arm, Wu Fan dangerously whispered into his ears. “Is that all you think of me? As a friend?” he spat at the end.

“What more do you wish of us, First Prince? As brothers?” Zi Tao’s gaze softened, and he had refused to look right into the prince’s eyes.

“When I return…” the first prince leaned in, head tilted to the side so his lips were barely hovering above the other’s. “You shall be mine.”

A sharp push from Zi Tao sent Wu Fan taking a couple of steps back unsteadily. “I do not take empty promises.” He said breathlessly, “if you do not return by the time of Shen, I will take it that the First Prince has failed, and I will end the life of Zheng Ke myself.”

There was nothing more left to say as Wu Fan hastily walks up to the other and presses both pair of lips together. “If it really is the last time I will ever see you again, then I will be dying without any regrets.”

“Stop it!” Zi Tao shuts his eyes, refusing to listen as he covered his ears.

“Listen up, Wu Fan.” His eyes were glassy while he spoke, fingers trembling as they clutched onto the rough fabric around the older boy’s neck.

“You will come back. You will come back, and make me yours.” He whispers at the end, tears falling as he released his grip.

The young prince only nods, picking up his sword and walked out to the awaiting guard. He turned back to look at Zi Tao, for possibly the last time, and his heart doesn’t forget to break when the younger boy audibly mutters a ‘time of Shen’ before he left.

“Bright is the moon’s spark,
 Never ceasing, never dark.
 Thoughts of you from deep inside,
 Cannot settle, cannot subside.”

“My Prince…”

--
So, this is part 1. Part 2 will be the finale, where the fight takes place and stuff... and some other stuff. Just wanted this up asap before my writer's block got the best out of me. Anyways, the ending poem is by Cao Cao, one of the great warlords back in ancient China. It is only a small part of it. In chinese, it is:

皎皎如月
何时可辍
忧从中来
不可断绝

Yes, yes, long ass a/n but I used a lot of quotes from Xun Zi, Sun Zi's Art of War, Lao Zi, Confucius, Mencius and Zhuang Zi.
Thank you guys so much for reading part 1. Comments and critics are very much appreciated.

P.S because it was too big of a waste to only show off my beautiful poster made by Paula to AFF, so it's up here.

part ii