In Yue, she and Xi Shi both loved Fan Li, but Fan Li loved Xi Shi, even swearing to marry her after destroying Wu – Xi Shi had a future. This made Zheng Dan indescribably disappointed. In Wu, Fu Chai also liked Xi Shi, arranging her in the best palace, while she only lived where ordinary concubines resided. Initially, Fu Chai would occasionally visit Zheng Dan’s chambers, but when on top of her, he would call out: “Xi Shi! Beauty! This king loves you to death!”
Zheng Dan was not without anger.
She immediately pushed Fu Chai off, sitting up and seriously saying: “My lord, look carefully, I am Zheng Dan, not Xi Shi!”
Fu Chai glanced at her, saying casually: “This king knows you are Zheng Dan, not Xi Shi.”
Zheng Dan was indignant: “Why did you call my name as Xi Shi?”
Fu Chai glanced at her again, saying casually: “Because this king only has Xi Shi in his heart. Calling Xi Shi’s name gives that feeling, and treating the woman beneath him as Xi Shi.”
Then, Fu Chai’s face turned iron-blue, and he said coldly: “Zheng Dan, why are you slandering Xi Shi? How can you spread such malicious rumors? Xi Shi has been so good to you, often speaking well of you in front of me, urging me to care more about you, to visit your palace and accompany you. Yet, not only are you ungrateful, but you also bite back at Xi Shi. Tell me, what are your intentions?
Zheng Dan’s face turned even more pale.
Ashamed and unable to bear it.
Indeed, how could she harm Xi Shi like this? Fu Chai was right. Xi Shi had been so good to her, and not only was she ungrateful, but she also attacked her. If Xi Shi knew, how heartbroken would she be?
Fu Chai no longer paid attention to Zheng Dan. He got up, dressed, didn’t even look at Zheng Dan, and slammed the door as he left.
Zheng Dan sat dazed, two clear tears falling down her beautiful face.
She hated Gou Jian. Why did he lose the battle? If he hadn’t lost, how would she have been sent to Wu as a “tribute”? Zheng Dan also hated Fan Li. Why did he come and find her? Why did he choose her? Zheng Dan hated Fu Chai even more, for being so cold to her. Why did he treat her only as a tool for venting his desires? Zheng Dan also hated Xi Shi, for always stealing her spotlight. What Zheng Dan hated most was herself. How had she become like this? So jealous, so utilitarian, no longer herself?
Zheng Dan pitied and grieved herself.
Finally, Zheng Dan died. On a pitch-dark night, she swallowed a piece of gold and then died.
A beautiful woman in her prime vanished like smoke, carrying her grievances and resentment towards the world, her soul returning to the netherworld.
Wu Ziyu’s words enraged Fu Chai. In his anger, Fu Chai forgot Wu Ziyu’s unwavering loyalty to the country, that Wu Ziyu was a three-generation minister, and his upright nature. Fu Chai cruelly ordered his subordinates to cut Wu Ziyu’s body into pieces and throw them into the great river wrapped in leather.
The people of Suzhou commemorated Wu Ziyu by renaming that river Xu River. It is said that the Dragon Boat Festival is a day to commemorate Wu Ziyu.
Fu Chai’s love for Xi Shi was like loving his own heart. After Wu Ziyu’s death, no one dared to criticize Fu Chai anymore.
Fu Chai’s ears finally found peace, and he began to indulge in his romantic love with Xi Shi without restraint. Who could stop him?
Because of Wu Ziyu’s precedent, all the lords kept silent about Fu Chai’s affairs. Wu Ziyu, a prime minister who had loyally served three generations of kings with merits greater than heaven, was brutally dismembered and thrown into the river when Fu Chai was angry. The ministers thought it was better not to risk their lives. Although death can be weightier than Mount Tai or lighter than a feather, there’s also a saying that a bad life is better than a good death.
No one dared to offer advice anymore.
The Mid-Autumn Festival arrived. Fu Chai wanted to appreciate the moon with his beloved Xi Shi. At this moment, Fu Chai was completely enchanted by Xi Shi, unwilling to leave her for even a moment. People in love feel that a day apart is like three autumns, but Fu Chai felt that a second without Xi Shi was like three centuries.
Fu Chai’s love for Xi Shi was deep. While lustful men often say “women are like clothes,” Fu Chai used to treat women as less than clothes. Now, he treated Xi Shi like his own heart.
Ten years passed, and Fu Chai’s love for Xi Shi remained constant – rare and as warm as spring, with a comrade-like respect. Not only did he provide for her material needs, but he also remained faithful, no longer touching other wives or engaging in philandering. Fu Chai was completely devoted to Xi Shi.
After dinner, Fu Chai held Xi Shi’s delicate hand and said softly: “My beauty, let’s go appreciate the moon at the Qin Terrace on Ling Yan Mountain.” Xi Shi lowered her eyes and softly replied: “Okay.”
Because Fu Chai loved and cherished her, he also couldn’t bear to see her harmed.
Xi Shi slowly stepped onto the smooth, shiny corridor floor, walking step by step. Suddenly, a “rumbling” sound came, as if thunder was about to strike. Xi Shi was surprised and stopped. Oh, it was just starry a moment ago, how could it start raining so suddenly? Xi Shi looked up and glanced at the sky; it wasn’t going to rain. The moon was round and large, smiling in the sky, and the stars were blinking.
Xi Shi took a few more steps forward. The strange sound rang out again. This time, it wasn’t thunder, but the sound of galloping horses and clashing drums, as if thousands of armies were shouting and fighting around her, shocking and heart-stirring. Xi Shi’s delicate face instantly turned pale. Was there another war?
It felt like thousands of troops were right in front of her. But Xi Shi couldn’t see a single soldier or horse.
Xi Shi panicked and turned around, crying out in fear: “My Lord! My Lord!”
She ran towards Fu Chai.
Who else could protect her but Fu Chai?
As Xi Shi ran, the surrounding sounds changed, turning into a series of pleasant and moving musical notes, ethereal and touching, alternating between crisp, deep, loud, and distant, seeming to come from the sky or from the depths of the earth.
Xi Shi was even more shocked.
Everything seemed unreal, like a dream.
Fu Chai stretched out his arms from the corridor and tightly embraced the panic-stricken Xi Shi running towards him. Xi Shi trembled all over and asked: “My Lord, what happened?”
After all, she was a woman, timid as a mouse.
At that moment, Goujian was somewhat tempted.
He wanted to see the pleasure of Wu Zixu tasting his excrement.
Unexpectedly, Fan Li objected. He said: “My King, haven’t you learned from the lesson that Wu did not destroy Yue in the past? You must not follow Wu Zixu’s old path.”
Goujian thought about it, found it very reasonable, and could only regretfully tell Wu Zixu’s envoy: “No.”
Wu Zixu was desperate; he didn’t have the chance to taste Goujian’s feces. In his grief, shame, and frustration, he wrapped his face with three layers of gauze. At the moment of drawing his sword to commit suicide, Wu Zixu’s tears fell like rain, saying: “I regret not listening to Wu Zixu’s words!”
But in this world, there are no pills of regret.
On the night Wu Zixu died, Xi Shi danced all night. This was Xi Shi’s last dance, for herself and for Wu Zixu, who might have gone to heaven or hell. The wooden clogs stepped on the wooden boards, creating a heavy echo, and the small bells on her skirt made a crisp sound, intertwining to form an ultimate sound.
Before leaving the state of Yue, Fan Li left a letter for Wen Zhong, which said: “When birds are shot down, good bows are put away; when cunning rabbits are killed, hunting dogs are cooked.”
The King of Yue has a long neck and bird’s beak; one can share hardships with him but cannot share joy. Why don’t you leave?
