Writing a Poem in Nuwa Palace

The next day.

Zi Shou rode out through Chaoge's southern gate.

It was his first time leaving the palace.

Along the way, he saw incense burning and offering tables set up at every home, with festive decorations and felt carpets laid out everywhere. The whole city brimmed with joy.

Zi Shou was alarmed. How could I possibly get anywhere if I'm this popular?

But that was only natural. In the normal course of events, before King Zhou went to Nuwa Palace to offer incense, the country was peaceful and prosperous, and the people lived and worked in contentment. They had no reason to fill the streets with complaints.

Never mind. Starting today, Cheng Tang's legacy will meet its end in my hands.

Three thousand armored cavalry and eight hundred imperial guards escorted him, led by Huang Feihu, the King of Wucheng, while every civil and military official accompanied them. Zi Shou felt a little disappointed. The procession ought to have been grander. Even without clanging gongs, beating drums, and rolling out red carpets, they should at least have disturbed the public, right?

Why are you cavalrymen being so careful? Let those hooves fly!

Unfortunately, they were as well behaved as Zi Shou's predecessor.

Zi Shou kept shaking his head. The emperor's personal guards ought to have been a little more overbearing, a little more arrogant. But there was nothing he could do. He could hardly pat one of them on the shoulder and say, "Buddy, you're walking all wrong. You need more of a swagger that says you'd disown all six branches of your family."

He could only wait until he returned to the palace, then gather a batch of men to train.

When they reached Nuwa Palace, Zi Shou stepped down from his carriage and entered the hall.

The incense burner was lit, fragrant smoke drifting in wisps as the civil and military officials followed Zi Shou in paying their respects.

Just then, a sudden gust lifted the curtains, revealing the sacred statue of Nuwa behind them.

The statue had an auspicious, exquisite face and beauty fit to eclipse a nation, like an immortal maiden descended to earth.

But could an ordinary young man from the twenty-first century, who had weathered every kind of beauty-filtered temptation, really be dazzled by a mere stone statue?

No normal person would entertain thoughts about a stone statue that could get a page slapped with a 404.

Even Duan Yu had only thought his immortal sister dignified and sacred, never daring to harbor any blasphemous notions. Even if he had, he could hardly have acted on them.

Even so, Zi Shou still had to pretend that the statue had stolen his soul.

Otherwise, it would not make sense.

Once Zi Shou felt he had put on enough of a show, he said, "Looking upon Nuwa, I see beauty without equal and wish to compose a poem in her praise. As sovereign of ten thousand chariots, I shall leave it for the people to behold, that they may see the Empress's peerless beauty. It shall also stand as a work left by my own brush."

A poem?

The officials exchanged glances, unsure what to do.

They had only ever heard of King Zhou supporting a roof beam to replace a pillar and saving the late king from peril, displaying extraordinary strength. They had never heard that he possessed any literary talent.

They merely nodded in silence. No one dared speak.

Zi Shou was pleased. That's exactly how this should go. He picked up the brush.

Then he froze.

What was that lewd poem King Zhou wrote in Investiture of the Gods again?

He could not remember.

Then should I make one up?

His literary skills were not up to it.

Forget it. Issuing an order in the morning and changing it by evening should just about count as the conduct of a foolish ruler, right?

Shang Rong, however, brightened and bowed. "Your Majesty truly is an enlightened ruler. Nuwa is a true deity of ancient times and the guardian of Chaoge's blessings. Within her temple, it would be inappropriate to-"

Seeing Shang Rong's reaction, Zi Shou immediately turned back toward the wall. Write it. Keep writing.

Prime Minister Shang Rong was a worthy minister. In the novel, after urging King Zhou to govern benevolently, he had smashed himself to death in the hall. Zi Shou absolutely had to do the opposite of whatever he wanted.

If you, Shang Rong, won't let me write a poem, then I'll insist on writing one.

But what should I write?

Zi Shou sank into uncertainty again.

Goose, goose, goose? Two golden orioles? Hang herself from a southeastern branch? Spring slumber, unaware of dawn?

No. Those have no more to do with this than wind, horses, and cattle have with one another. I couldn't explain them if I wrote them.

If people took it as a sign that something was wrong with his intelligence, they might attribute all his foolish conduct to a mental deficiency. In the end, they could strip him of actual power, leaving him unable to be a foolish ruler even if he wanted to.

Right! What if my ministers sideline me before I even manage to become a foolish ruler?

Zi Shou decided that after returning to the palace, he would not only train the Royal Guards but also select a loyal following of his own.

What foolish ruler did not have a few faithful running dogs?

For now, though, the pressing matter was to squeeze out a suitable poem.

Right, that's the one!

"Click-clack, and click-clack again, Mulan wove beside the door. No sound of loom or shuttle came, only the maiden's sighs.

Ask the maiden what she pondered, ask the maiden what she recalled. The maiden pondered nothing, the maiden recalled nothing. Last night she saw the army summons: King Zhou was mustering a mighty host. Twelve scrolls of military rolls, and on each scroll her father's name. Her father had no grown son, Mulan had no elder brother. She would buy a saddle and horse, and march to war in her father's place.

In the eastern market she bought a fine horse, in the western market a saddle and pad, in the South Market a bridle, in the northern market a long whip. At dawn she bade her parents farewell, at dusk she camped beside the Yellow River. She heard no parents calling for their daughter, only the Yellow River's rushing waters splashing. At dawn she left the Yellow River, at dusk she reached the summit of Mount Tai. She heard no parents calling for their daughter, only the shrill cries of barbarian riders in the Taihang Mountains.

Ten thousand miles she hastened to war, crossing passes and mountains as though in flight. Northern winds carried the watchman's metal clapper, cold light shone upon iron armor. Generals died in a hundred battles, warriors returned after ten years.

Returning, she appeared before the Son of Heaven, who offered sacrifice at the ancestral temple. King Zhou asked what she desired. Mulan wanted no feudal crown, only a steed swift enough to cover a thousand miles, to carry this daughter back to her hometown."

Having written down a modified version of the Ballad of Mulan, Zi Shou was reasonably satisfied. What normal modern person would memorize lewd poems for no reason? All he had were the required ancient verses from his language textbooks. Picking one that perfectly suited this scene was far too difficult.

This one just about passed muster.

First, it had something to do with a woman, so it was reasonably appropriate.

Second, it highlighted King Zhou's folly.

The poem made it clear that Mulan's family had no young, able-bodied man. If her father went to war and died, the family would lose its supporting pillar. Yet King Zhou still forcibly conscripted a man from such a household. Heartless.

Not only that, Mulan had to shop here, there, and everywhere before joining the army. She was fighting for her country, yet had to provide her own equipment. Stingy.

The march showed no concern for the soldiers' stamina, either. They traveled all the way from the Yellow River to Mount Tai in a single day. Could the soldiers possibly have had enough rest along the way?

The shrill cries of barbarian riders rang through the Taihang Mountains. North of those mountains lay Great Shang's frontier. Enemy cavalry had already reached their doorstep, yet their own soldiers were still on the march. Slow on the uptake.

"Generals died in a hundred battles, warriors returned after ten years." That line laid bare the cruelty of war, yet King Zhou still insisted on conscripting soldiers and fighting to the bitter end. That was reckless warmongering!

Most importantly, even after somehow winning the war and returning in triumph, Mulan received no reward.

That was because Zi Shou had erased the original lines, "Her merits were ranked twelve grades high, her rewards numbered hundreds and thousands," and jumped straight to "King Zhou asked what she desired. Mulan wanted no feudal crown, only a steed swift enough to cover a thousand miles, to carry this daughter back to her hometown."

This showed that King Zhou had not even mentioned a reward. He had perfunctorily offered sacrifice at the ancestral temple, asked Mulan what she wanted, and left it at that.

Even if Mulan wanted no reward and only wished to go home, he should at least have sent some horses and a carriage to take her.

Yet there was nothing.

Such a ruler was surely foolish.

Although the poem vividly portrayed Mulan's admirable deed of going to Military Service in her father's place, Zi Shou had read plenty of historical webnovels. Women had always held low status in ancient times. A mighty emperor speaking up for a woman would be taking a slice of the men's cake. And she had even joined the army and become a general. Once this poem spread, criticism was sure to follow.

For a moment, the hall was silent.

Zi Shou thought the officials must have been stunned by him.

Yes, the officials had indeed been stunned.

When they had seen King Zhou making an unseemly display before Nuwa's statue, some had already been unable to hold back their remonstrations. But after seeing this poem, they were all overwhelmed with shame.

What unseemly display? What blasphemy? He had clearly used Mulan as an analogy and deliberately written a poem of praise.

Mulan had gone to Military Service in her father's place, driven the enemy back from the nation's gates, and saved the people from war. Empress Nuwa had gathered Five-Colored Stones to perform Mending the Heavens, saving the world from fire and flood.

Led by Prime Minister Shang Rong, they raised cheers that shook the mountains.

Then Shang Rong stepped forward, tears streaming down his aged face. "This old minister asked Your Majesty to come and offer incense, praying for blessings that the people might prosper in their livelihoods, that wind and rain might arrive in season, and that the fires of war might cease. Today Your Majesty has composed a poem. Though it does not conform to the rites of an imperial visit to offer prayers, it praises Sagacity and fully expresses your sincere devotion-"

Then the officials cried out together, "Your Majesty is wise!"

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