Volume One: The Hidden Dragon in the Abyss Chapter Three: The Loving Mother

Wang Chuan sat cross-legged to begin his cultivation. His unique method focused on refining the soul and fate, divided into nine stages plus an introductory chapter. Even the introduction alone was already profound and mysterious, filled with unparalleled secrets. Yet, his extraordinary talent allowed him to progress rapidly, recalling past experience as he advanced by leaps and bounds.

In his previous life, he had also been guided by sages who once said: The world is like a bitter sea; the flesh is the precious raft that carries one across. If a person's soul leaves the body, it is akin to crossing the sea naked. Even a small wooden raft struggles against stormy waves—let alone a person plunging into the ocean; it is a journey with no hope of survival.

Starlight spilled through the window, swirling around him as if inhaled and exhaled in rhythm. The enigmatic and unfathomable power began to circulate on its own. After some time, having completed his daily cultivation, Wang Chuan opened his eyes, light and shadow intermingling. His figure flickered, and he appeared once more in the study.

His spiritual sense detected that Loyal Uncle was approaching swiftly; Wang Chuan waited quietly for a while, hearing a knock at the door. There was no need to feign—his voice, heavy with sleepiness, sounded out. "Come in..."

Loyal Uncle entered, seeing him habitually yawning, as if he never slept enough. He thought to himself: I'm not afraid of trouble, but I certainly dislike it. Who is bothering me now?

"Your Highness." Loyal Uncle entered with a delighted expression. "Your Highness, the Empress Dowager requests your presence at the palace."

"I understand." Wang Chuan deliberated briefly and nodded.

"Hurry, hurry, Eunuch Wang is waiting outside." Loyal Uncle, fearing Wang Chuan would delay, quickly led him out.

No matter what, this time he would learn the other party's attitude. As Wang Chuan had said, one must not judge matters by their surface alone—he would see the truth for himself. The Empress Dowager indeed had some influence over King Wei's decisions.

"The Empress Dowager's health is very poor."

The first words spoken to him by Eunuch Wang, who had served her for many years, were exactly this. The attitude remained unchanged.

Wang Chuan's heart sank. After only half a year, had it come to this? The mere words "not well" already spelled trouble, and even more so when told "very poor..."

As the carriage slowly rolled toward the imperial palace, his mood grew complicated, unsure what he would face—would it be the outcome he had hoped for?

Suddenly, his pupils contracted as he gazed toward the Long Princess's residence.

"How could it be such a coincidence?"

"Loyal Uncle, be careful..."

...

In the dark of night, shadows flickered past and finally entered the Long Princess's mansion...

Changning Palace.

Inside and outside the palace, all the maids and eunuchs knelt in silence; no sound was uttered. Wang Chuan's mood grew heavier, his steps ever more measured.

Only one palace woman choked back tears as she quietly reported, "The Empress Dowager has not eaten anything today, and is often asleep."

Wang Chuan entered the hall, seeing imperial physicians standing guard for twelve hours at a time.

From afar, just one glance weighed heavy on his heart. The Empress Dowager was shrouded in the aura of death and sickness, her soul frail beyond saving—even his current cultivation could not restore her.

Some people, already at death's door, had exhausted their fate.

A banquet for longevity? Nonsense. He had wondered how to face it, yet they told him nothing!

Brought before the bed, Wang Chuan knelt.

Eunuch Wang crouched down, carefully calling, "Empress Dowager, His Highness Wang Chuan is here."

The person on the bed remained motionless, her breath barely perceptible.

Wang Chuan wiped his tears for a long while, then softly called, "Imperial grandmother..."

At that moment, the Empress Dowager unexpectedly opened her eyes, her head moving slightly.

A stir of excitement ran through the attendants as they held their breath in cautious silence.

"Xiao Chuan is here," came the weak voice from the sickbed.

Wang Chuan hurried to stand, bending over so his face was before her eyes.

He saw her blink twice; a hand slowly stretched from beneath the embroidered quilt, and Wang Chuan quickly took it in his own.

"Qin'er..."

Eunuch Wang heard clearly; even in her last moments, the Empress Dowager thought of her daughter.

What had happened to the Long Princess?

This woman, born in poverty, later sold to the palace as a maid, eventually bore the late emperor a son and saw him ascend to the throne.

Now, like any elderly woman, she often reminisced about her children.

Before falling ill, she had always worried about her daughter.

But the Long Princess had entered the Academy of Divine Patterns, with no news since.

"I've already received a letter from Mother. She says she'll definitely return before Grandmother's birthday banquet!" Wang Chuan spoke with startling conviction.

Everyone was truly astonished.

He had received a letter from the Long Princess?

He even produced a piece of paper, long prepared, from his bosom.

"This is a poem Mother wrote for you," Wang Chuan declared with utmost seriousness.

The Empress Dowager's head could now turn slightly; her soul seemed to return to her body, her gaze clear and gradually regaining spirit.

She looked only at Wang Chuan, at the paper in his hand.

Wang Chuan recited, "A loving mother threads the needle; a wanderer wears the clothes. Before departure, she stitches tightly, fearing a slow return. Who says a blade of grass can repay the sun of spring..."

"This poem is beautiful; I feel it deeply myself," he continued.

"Mother says she always remembers the clothes Grandmother gave her before she left, and has treasured them ever since."

"Her childhood was hard—maids and eunuchs withheld offerings, the demon Empress often sent people to harm her. Mother and Grandmother often went hungry, and were implicated and thrown in prison. Mother always remembered that you taught her needlework, that you yourself sewed her clothes. When she married, it was the same..."

"The Academy of Martial Arts is strict, its residents isolated, focused on cultivation. Mother worked hard, and only after mastering martial arts was she allowed to descend the mountain to train and visit home. She says she's sorry..."

"Mother will soon return, to celebrate your birthday and tell you about the Academy of Martial Arts—there are immortals riding cranes, soaring through clouds, resting on rainbows... so much to tell, she'll share it all when she’s back."

...

Wang Chuan kept reading from his heart, reluctant to finish.

Eunuch Wang nearly believed him—how closely it matched the accounts in the unofficial histories they had collected, how vivid his storytelling.

Over the years, they had searched countless records about the Academy of Martial Arts; their archive was the most complete...

These were things the Empress Dowager surely did not know.

She raised her hand, and Wang Chuan leaned in, allowing her to gently caress his face.

"Xiao Chuan, you are thoughtful..."

Wang Chuan sighed imperceptibly.

Eunuch Wang sensed it, unsure if he regretted not making his story more seamless, or something else.

"Have you grown thinner?" The Empress Dowager looked kindly and concerned.

"No," Wang Chuan replied with righteous conviction. "Just tighter skin and firmer bones. Because my martial arts have advanced—I now have the strength of two oxen, can draw a three-stone bow, shoot tigers and capture wolves with ease! The guards can't last three moves against me, but I prefer to be modest, so I defeat them only after sixty-six moves..."

Others listened inwardly scoffing, but their faces remained sincerely congratulatory.

Only the Empress Dowager always believed him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes.

He said he was a martial arts master, and that was enough.

She never doubted.

From a young age, Wang Chuan performed his martial skills before her. Though to the experienced eyes of Eunuch Wang it was mere showmanship, useless in real combat, it could fool the uninitiated like the Empress Dowager.

They would never expose him.

Even as Wang Chuan's skills "improved" rapidly, becoming a martial genius...

He sighed again inwardly.

So long as the Empress Dowager was happy.

"Is that so? Xiao Chuan has grown accomplished." Her delight was genuine. "Are you hungry? I saved your favorite osmanthus cake—your mother loved it too."

Wang Chuan nodded; only today had he learned from her that his mother liked it as well.

Under her gentle gaze, he ate slowly.

When he picked up the third piece, he quietly slipped it into his long sleeve, and finished the rest.

"Imperial grandmother, it's still delicious—I can taste it."

The Empress Dowager nodded, a spark of vitality in her eyes. "I'm sleepy now, tell me the story of Hulan River again, I want to sleep..."

"My birthday is soon, isn’t it? My Qin’er will return..."

Wang Chuan nearly choked up, nodded, and earnestly began from the beginning.

He often told his grandmother stories, carefully choosing suitable ones.

This poor woman from the North, sold to the palace as a child, sometimes reminisced about her hometown, drawing from her scant memories of its customs.

She loved to hear Wang Chuan recount the tale of Hulan River, again and again, never growing weary.

Soon she drifted off, sleeping sweetly with a smile.

Eunuch Wang quietly instructed him to leave.

Changning Palace returned to its silence, a silence like a chapter, quietly telling of joys and sorrows, of love and resentment.

Moonlight bathed everything, its silver glow seemingly frozen, so tranquil.

Wang Chuan walked alone down the palace road, growing ever more distant from Changning Palace. Before long, he couldn't help but crush the osmanthus cake hidden in his sleeve, and unfolded the concealed slip of paper.

He froze, tears streaming down his face.

That kind old woman had protected her children in the past, and now used the last of her wisdom to protect him.

He turned, knelt on the ground, and cried out in anguish, his voice hoarse and broken.

He looked up, weeping like a child, heartbroken beyond measure.

"Imperial grandmother..."

Recently, the Emperor of Wei had reduced his workload each day, spending at least six hours in Changning Palace with his mother.

That day, after finishing his memorials earlier than usual, as he approached Changning Palace, he saw in the distance someone kneeling and wailing.

Ordinary people could not hear from such a distance, but with his cultivation, his vision and hearing far surpassed others, and he immediately recognized Wang Chuan.

"This child..."

He watched quietly for a while; those around him did not disturb, unsure what he was thinking.

Inside the hall, he heard the imperial physicians report the Empress Dowager's health had improved, and felt much relieved.

Later, he saw the letter and poem Wang Chuan had left, and frowned again.

"What is this?"

...