* Before the main text begins, it is now the middle of the night in China. I originally wasn't planning to continue this novel today and was prepared to rest for a day, but seeing that many people have read this story, I am very happy. I hope everyone will enjoy it. This is my first time writing a novel, and I welcome everyone's discussion and comments. The main text begins below:
Banquets in ancient China were exceedingly tedious affairs, for a simple reason: Chinese cuisine was not yet richly developed in that era. It is evident that vegetables such as tomatoes, eggplants, cucumbers, and potatoes were all introduced to China much later from South America or Europe. The vegetables available to us now were quite limited. Certainly, there would be beef and mutton, but only with very coarse salt. The resulting flavor of both vegetables and meat was rather unpleasant.
In China, there were two main salt-producing regions. One was the northwest, where we currently resided in Chou Yuan (present-day Shaanxi). Here, salt was extracted from mineral deposits. The other region comprised the eastern coastal states such as Qi and Lu, where fine salt was obtained through evaporation of seawater. Overall, salt remained a scarce resource, even considered a strategic commodity. The eastern states of Qi and Lu expressed their submission to the royal house precisely by offering tributes of salt, currency, and other specialties to King of Chou. In fact, the relationship between these enfeoffed states and Chou was quite complex. The first King of Chou had assigned his relatives, like the Duke of Lu, or his meritorious officials, like the Duke of Qi, to the desolate frontiers of the empire, tasking them with protecting imperial boundary security while expanding its territories by attacking barbarians, and regularly paying tribute to the Chou royal house. What the first King of Chou had not anticipated was that many once-barren lands had now become the empire's most prosperous regions, like Qi and Lu, while previously wealthy regions now faced desertification and reduced harvests due to climate change, as was happening in Chou Yuan (Chou Plateau) where we currently resided.
Nevertheless, the sole expectation for this banquet was that the fine salt from seawater contributed by Qi and Lu would taste far superior to the coarse salt produced in the imperial northwest, making it a rare and precious condiment. If everyone anticipated the tributes from these two dukes, duke of Qi, Lu, King Xuan of Chou must have been even more eager for other offerings. Because besides salt, Qi was also rich in an important resource: copper. This was the most durable metal available before iron would come into use two hundred years later. For instance, the pot before me, called a *ding* (a ritual bronze vessel), was made of copper. More importantly, swords, spears, and arrows all depended on this precious resource. I suddenly understood why King Xuan of Chou had halted discussions about war. Waging war required weapons, and weapons depended on the metals produced in the eastern and south-central enfeoffed states. Currently, this metal was only produced in the empire's eastern and south-central fiefs, but reaching the south-central fiefs required crossing great mountains, whereas Qi and Lu could transport this precious strategic material to Chou Yuan more quickly and at lower cost via the Yellow River. No wonder—without the support of these two states, conquering the western barbarians would be difficult indeed.
As these thoughts crossed my mind, the banquet began. All the meat, including beef and mutton, was steaming in the largest bronze cauldron. All the dukes and princes had to wait patiently after taking their seats. This was both waiting for the meat and waiting for the royal house's final allocation of benefits. The pot used for steaming meat, or *ding*, was also made of copper. During this tedious waiting period, I opened the book of The Ritual of Chou prepared by my father. This contained rituals and institutional systems related to Chou. As I mentioned before, these rituals were only permitted to be learned by nobles and only applied to nobles. For instance, the first chapter concerned knowledge about the *ding*: "The *ding* was cast in ancient times, serving both as a food vessel and a ritual object, related to the distribution of food and land. Different ranks were entitled to different numbers of *ding*. The Son of Heaven (namely the king of Chou) enjoys nine *ding*, a duke enjoys five *ding*, a marquis enjoys three *ding*, and a baron is entitled to only one *ding*!" Well, I belonged purely to a one-*ding* family, nearly at the bottom of the hierarchy. Honestly, The Ritual of Chou itself was an extremely boring book, not as interesting as many storybooks or history books. The latter at least contained vivid and engaging stories, while the former contained only complicated hierarchical regulations. For example, the long wait before the current banquet itself represented submission to the royal house. Even before the banquet, performances designed to help nobles pass time, such as sword dances, were written into The Ritual of Chou. Just as this thought crossed my mind, a eunuch's voice interrupted my train of thought, inviting the son of the Duke of Lu to perform a sword dance for everyone.
Lu again. But this was entirely understandable. The Chou royal house had enfeoffed many dukes across East Asia, but among them were four great dukes who represented the king in managing and constraining the dukes of the east, south, west, and north. The Duke of Lu was one of these four. Today, having publicly opposed the king, and now having his child arranged to perform, carried two meanings. First, appearing in a sword dance performance at a significant occasion showed the Chou king's respect for the Duke of Lu and his children. Second, it was also a warning to the Duke of Lu, reminding him that before the King of Chou, Lu was merely a performer, and there was only one true director: the King of Chou. However, the eunuch's piercing voice truly caught my attention, and I couldn't help but look up at him—a handsome face with thin, long eyebrows and eyes, but without a trace of beard.
In this era, although the attendants around the King of Chou were not required to be chemically castrated eunuchs as in the later Ming or Qing dynasties, this personal attendant's characteristics were unmistakable due to his voice and appearance: high-pitched like a woman's, and beardless. Moreover, according to my father, unlike common people, the highest-ranking nobles such as the Duke of Lu or the King of Chou preferred eunuchs as personal attendants rather than normal men. On one hand, eunuchs, having been castrated, could not have children, making the nobles they served their only dependable relationships rather than their own offspring. On the other hand, the physical changes in eunuchs also affected their mentality, giving them more feminine qualities that made them more attentive to nobles and their families, even more careful than the most meticulous palace maids and more understanding of men. For these reasons, kings and dukes were often accompanied by eunuchs. However, I had only heard about this; this was my first actual encounter with one.
Indeed, in the court banquet, two young lords stood up beside the Duke of Lu. Note that there were two, not one. This was somewhat unusual, as for such important ceremonies, one would typically bring only their direct heir, not all their children, to attend the banquet. Some dukes might bring one son and one daughter, as this was also a good opportunity to find marriage alliances for their daughters. However, cases like the Duke of Lu bringing two sons were rare.
That eunuch—I might as well give him a nickname, since his chest was embroidered with a flower, though I didn't know his name, I'll call him the Flower Eunuch—momentarily seemed confused. Traditional performances typically featured one person dancing with a sword; two-person sword dances existed but often escalated into duels rather than performances. However, the eunuch had not specified which son while conveying the command, creating an awkward situation. He could only sheepishly ask the king, "Your Majesty, the Duke of Lu has brought two sons; which one should perform?" King Xuan of Chou waved his hand, saying, "So be it. Two talented youths—let them perform a dual sword dance to entertain us!" Hearing this, I lost interest again. I had never liked swords, preferring bows and arrows instead. Having no skill in it, I was even less inclined to watch. I simply lowered my head and continued reading.
As I turned the pages, the sword dance had already begun. I came across a small piece of silk. Silk was a very important material, as it preserved well without easily fading, commonly used for preserving important items such as history books or paintings. This small piece of silk was tucked into The Ritual of Chou, presumably left behind by my father while reviewing and editing historical records. Regardless, it would certainly be far more interesting than this book of The Ritual of Chou.
With this thought, I began to read it. It seemed to tell a story about an ancient Duke of Lu. Seeing this, my interest was piqued, and I read carefully. It told of an ancient Duke of Lu who had two sons: the elder nicknamed "Difficult Birth" and the younger "Smooth Birth." "Difficult Birth" meant that the child was born feet first rather than head first. Here's a little life fact: children are typically born head first, followed by the feet. In China, as in most countries, this is the norm. In China, a head-first birth is called a smooth birth, as midwives can typically help the mother deliver the baby more easily, causing less suffering. Conversely, a "difficult birth" means the child's feet struggled repeatedly in the mother's womb, often indicating a more complex and challenging process. When the Duke of Lu's wife gave birth to her elder son, the delivery was difficult; when she gave birth to her younger son, it was smooth. Thus, she gave the children these nicknames. Of course, this naming itself represented the wife's attitude toward the two sons—disliking the "Difficult Birth" elder son and favoring the "Smooth Birth" younger son.
Reading to this point, one might say this Duke of Lu lacked civilization. But what followed was even more uncivilized. The Duke of Lu's wife, disliking the elder son, wanted the Duke to pass the dukedom to the younger son, but this violated The Ritual of Chou. I thought to myself, indeed, the Duke of Lu's wife was not only unreliable in naming but even more unreliable in choosing an heir. According to The Ritual of Chou, succession to a dukedom followed the principle of primogeniture, meaning that regardless of how much the duke disliked his eldest son born to his primary wife, the title should pass to him. However, the Duke of Lu in the story thought differently. Bewitched by his wife, he wanted to establish his younger son as duke. Thus, before his death, the Duke of Lu and his wife, disregarding the ministers' opposition, forcibly installed their younger son "Smooth Birth" as the new Duke of Lu, while the elder son "Difficult Birth" fled to Chou Yuan to seek justice from the first King of Chou. Upon learning of this, the first King of Chou was furious. He personally led an army, together with other enfeoffed states, setting out from Chou Yuan on a punitive expedition against land of Lu for defying The Ritual of Chou. In the end, before the King of Chou's army even arrived, "Smooth Birth" hanged himself out of fear. The elder son "Difficult Birth" successfully ascended to the dukedom, and the descendants of "Smooth Birth" became the current Duke of Lu.
The story was quite brief, fitting on a small note. But when I finished reading and looked up, the atmosphere in the court had completely changed. Everyone was staring at the sword dance of the two sons of the Duke of Lu. Before I had immersed myself in the story, the two had been amicable. The taller elder son, despite his physical advantage and seemingly more refined swordsmanship, had maintained a defensive stance, rarely attacking. The younger son, though somewhat aggressive, deliberately showcasing his swordsmanship and abilities, had shown restraint, fearing his brother's physical advantage and superior technique. But now as I looked up again, everything had changed. The elder son's step-by-step yielding now seemed like weakness and indulgence, while the younger son's sword pressed forward relentlessly, without any sign of deference, as if determined to achieve a swift victory and distinguish himself among the sons of the dukes present at the banquet. This was no longer a sword dance but a duel!
Everyone held their breath, watching as the Duke of Lu's elder son was clearly disadvantaged, finally abandoning his restraint and forced to turn defense into offense, compelled to attack in order to defend himself. The younger son, however, showed no awareness of this change and continued to press forward aggressively, determined to fight to the bitter end. I saw my uncle opposite me, Grand Chancellor Zheng, furrowing his brow. Duke Zheng was my father's good friend, a member of the royal family, also an enfeoffed Duke of Zheng, and one of the three Grand Chancellors appointed by King Xuan of Chou, responsible for education and land production. He narrowed his eyes watching all this, slowly raising his wine cup and falling into deep thought.
However, time did not allow for much contemplation, and the outcome was predictable. The younger son of the Duke of Lu, lacking the advantages of age and strength, finally exposed a weakness after continuous attacks. His sword was knocked away after a thrust, and before he could react, a sword was already pointed at his throat.