Divine Transcendence

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Just past noon, under the towering city tower with blue tiles, armored soldiers stood tall and straight, gripping long spears. Below the tower, the expanse of the city wall stretched into the distance, and at its center, three broad gates stood open—one tall flanked by two shorter ones—through which a ceaseless stream of people and horses flowed, painting a bustling scene.

The fierce sun hung high in the sky, casting a vast shadow from the city gate over the throngs entering and exiting. The shadow stretched across the drawbridge and moat, reaching the feet of Yuan Ming.

Gazing at the familiar gates, Yuan Ming slightly lifted his head, his eyes finally resting on the grey stone plaque above the archway, inscribed with two bold characters: "Qu Jiang."

It was under this very plaque that Yuan Ming had bid farewell to the crowd seeing him off, leaving the Capital City of the Great Jin. Accompanied by Lin Junsheng as his deputy, he had set off for the southern borderlands, brimming with ambition and vigor.

Now, things had changed, and people were no more the same. After a moment of silence, gathering his scattered thoughts, Yuan Ming stepped forward towards the city.

"Make way, make way!" Just as he crossed the drawbridge, the sound of horsewhips and shouts erupted from behind. Turning his head, Yuan Ming saw three or four fully armored soldiers on horseback, brandishing whips and herding the crowd of civilians and carts away from the city gate.

Though their manner was rough and fierce, the whips never actually struck anyone, serving more to intimidate. In the distance, a Production Brigade of carriages slowly approached, their banners fluttering in the wind, revealing the character "Zhao."

Yuan Ming’s brows furrowed slightly, but he said nothing, stepping aside like the other frightened civilians. Soon, a path wide enough for two carriages to pass side by side was cleared, and the procession bearing the Zhao banners made its way through.

The convoy was sizable, with mounted soldiers guarding both front and rear. The carriages in the middle, though not overly lavish, bore carvings and patterns that were simple yet grand, clearly not meant for ordinary folk. Seeing the decorations on the carriages and the Zhao banners, a thoughtful expression crossed Yuan Ming’s face.

As the convoy drew near, the city guards seemed to tense, and a doorkeeper in armor hurried out from the city tower, reaching the gate just before the convoy arrived.

The leading carriage came to a halt at the city gate, and a servant lifted the curtain to reveal an elderly man with white hair, his expression solemn. "Greetings, Lord Zhao," the doorkeeper said with a smile, bowing to the old man.

Meanwhile, beside Yuan Ming, a merchant dressed man whispered to his companion, "Brother Lu, whose procession is this, with such grandeur?" His companion glanced around before lowering his voice, "Keep it down. This is the convoy of the General of the Northern Peace. If we disturb them, our lives wouldn’t be enough to compensate."

"So overbearing? I’ve come from the south; tell me more," the merchant exclaimed in surprise.

"You’ve never been to the north, so you wouldn’t know. General Zhao has guarded the border for many years, and he’s known to be domineering, with a formidable reputation," his companion said with awe. Nearby, Yuan Ming chuckled silently.

Whether the General of the Northern Peace was domineering or not, he didn’t know, but he remembered that in his childhood, General Zhao was a frequent guest at his home, watching him grow up.

On the other side, General Zhao merely nodded to the doorkeeper, and the servant dropped the curtain as the convoy moved on, quickly restoring the city gate to its usual state.

But the two men beside Yuan Ming continued their conversation, "However, General Zhao usually stays in the northern borderlands and rarely returns to the Capital City unless there’s a major issue. With the year-end still far off, why would he suddenly bring troops into the Capital?"

"How would I know? Probably some big event at the court," the merchant replied as he walked and talked with his companion. Yuan Ming had reached the city gate by then, where the city guard asked, "Name?" "Yuan Ming," he replied.

"Yuan Ming? The Young Master Yuan of the Yuan household?" the guard asked in surprise.

"Indeed, it is I," Yuan Ming answered. When the guard recognized Yuan Ming’s appearance, he exclaimed excitedly, reaching out to shake his hand.

Another person added, "Young Master Yuan, it’s really you! I heard you went missing on a mission to the southern borderlands and feared the worst. I can’t believe you’re still alive!" As if remembering something, he patted his clothes and pulled out a scroll of silk.

Wrapped in the silk was a beautifully bound book with four gilded characters on the cover: "The Young Master’s Southern Journey." "I’m a loyal fan of yours, Young Master Yuan. I came specifically to buy this deluxe edition of ’The Young Master’s Southern Journey,’ and I never imagined I’d run into you right at the city gate."

The man’s eyes shone with anticipation as he held the deluxe book out to Yuan Ming, "Could I trouble you to autograph it? I will treasure it forever!"

Overwhelmed by his enthusiasm, Yuan Ming took the book but said, "Sorry, I don’t have a pen," and was about to leave when the man exclaimed, "Ah, my oversight, just a moment."

The man smacked his forehead in annoyance and turned to grab someone nearby, "Excuse me, do you have a pen and ink I could borrow?"

"Pen and ink? I’m out on an errand; why would I carry those things?" the passerby asked, puzzled, looking between him and Yuan Ming, then his eyes suddenly lit up. "Eh, aren’t you Young Master Yuan Ming?"

"Indeed, I’ve just returned from the southern borderlands," Yuan Ming replied with a smile.

"I’ve read ’The Young Master’s Southern Journey,’ and it’s truly thrilling. Your adventures are remarkable," the man said.

Before Yuan Ming could respond, the passerby realized he didn’t have pen and ink either and turned to ask others, just as the previous man had done. Word spread from one to ten, and from ten to a hundred, and in no time, a large crowd had gathered around Yuan Ming.

The commotion at the city gate soon caught the doorkeeper’s attention. "Make way, make way, don’t crowd around. What’s happening here... Young Master Yuan?" He directed the city guards to clear a path, and upon seeing Yuan Ming’s face, he too shouted in surprise.

Yuan Ming was puzzled, "You recognize me too?"

"Of course! Young Master Yuan, when you rode out of the city with the delegation years ago, I was on duty! Although you’ve changed a bit, grown taller, I still recognize you. After you went missing, the books you wrote sold out, and some editions are now hard to find!" The doorkeeper immediately beamed with a smile, directing his men to keep the crowd at bay.

Yuan Ming couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. It was common knowledge that an artist’s work soared in value after their death; now it seemed his turn had come.

In the crowd, someone was desperately trying to push through, shouting, "Young Master Yuan, I’ve found pen and ink!"

The guard’s face darkened, ready to scold, but Yuan Ming stopped him, "Let him through. I promised to sign for him." "Young Master Yuan is as kind-hearted as ever," the doorkeeper complimented, ordering his men to make room.

Yuan Ming took the book, wrote an encouraging message for the man’s daughter, and signed his name. The man retreated with a goofy smile. Seeing this, the crowd grew even more excited, and many people produced copies of the same book, clamoring for Yuan Ming’s autograph. "Is ’The Young Master’s Southern Journey’ a true story, Young Master Yuan?"

"Young Master Yuan, please wait!" The city guards were overwhelmed.

Seeing this, Yuan Ming raised his voice, "Ladies and gentlemen, I understand your sentiments, but having been away for many years, I’ve only just returned to the Capital today. My heart is with my parents, and I cannot linger. Rest assured, after a few days, I will visit Tianming Bookstore and we can talk more then."

Hearing this, the crowd erupted into a mix of cheers and understanding murmurs. The doorkeeper wiped his brow and quickly arranged for guards to escort Yuan Ming into the city. But as soon as they passed through the city gate, another wave of cheers like a tidal roar filled the air.

The wide streets were packed with people, the human tide blocking the city gate entrance. Scholars, merchants, and commoners alike jostled in the crowd, standing on tiptoes, eager to catch a glimpse of Yuan Ming’s grace.

Yuan Ming himself was taken aback by the scene before him, thinking that he hadn’t been this famous before his disappearance, and he couldn’t help but turn and say with a wry smile, "It seems I’ll need to trouble you to send some men to notify the General’s Mansion to clear a path."

"No need to bother the General’s Mansion for such a trivial matter. I have some spare men who can escort Young Master Yuan home," the doorkeeper said, patting his chest.

Soon, he called over several idle city guards to escort Yuan Ming to the General’s Mansion. The armed guards intimidated the crowd, finally carving out a passable path for Yuan Ming.

Even so, the sides of the street were still crowded with onlookers, and the windows of the taverns and teahouses along the way were thrown open. The patrons crowded at the windows, curiously observing the commotion outside, and became inexplicably excited to see Yuan Ming being escorted past.

Before long, news that Yuan Ming, the best-selling author of the Capital City and the sole son of General Yuan Zuochong, had safely returned from the southern borderlands after years of absence, spread throughout the entire Capital.

At the General of the Northern Peace’s Mansion, Lord Zhao Jisheng was assisted down from his carriage, about to enter his residence, when he heard the noise from the main road.

His brow furrowed, and immediately, armored soldiers went to investigate. Soon, they returned with news, and after hearing the report, Zhao Jisheng’s face showed a flash of surprise, followed by a sincere smile.

"Heh, that kid Yuan, I always said he had great luck!" He waved his hand, "Someone, prepare a gift for the Yuan household and send a visiting card along, saying that I will visit soon."

Meanwhile, at Tianming Bookstore, the shopkeeper was arranging for new stock of the deluxe edition of "The Young Master’s Southern Journey" when an assistant stumbled in breathlessly. "Shopkeeper, big news, big news!"

"What’s all the fuss about? What if you disturb the customers?" the shopkeeper scolded.

The assistant, gasping for breath and resting his hands on his knees, finally managed to say, "Good news, shopkeeper, it’s Young Master Yuan, he’s back!"

"Young Master Yuan? Which Yuan?" the shopkeeper was taken aback, grabbing the assistant’s arm, "You mean Yuan Ming, Young Master Yuan?"

"That’s right, the whole street is buzzing with it. They say Young Master Yuan has returned from the southern borderlands after overcoming great hardships!" the assistant nodded eagerly.

The shopkeeper laughed heartily, "Excellent! Quick, arrange for people to spread the word. Say that to celebrate Young Master Yuan’s return, all books in the store will be sold at a 10% discount, no, make it 20% off!"

Following his orders, the assistants quickly dispersed, and the shopkeeper’s eyes shone with unspoken excitement.

"Your Majesty, Young Master Yuan has finally returned!"

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