Chapter 71: The Divine Mandate of the Three Kingdoms

Looking at Bai Zhi’s enchanting, fox-like demeanor, he couldn’t help but feel his heart stir, as though a string within was plucked. She was so young, yet she could already move him in this way. What would happen when she grew up? She would probably become a beauty capable of bringing ruin to a kingdom. At this thought, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation.

Bai Zhi noticed the young master staring at her in a daze, saying nothing, and a faint sense of pride welled up inside her. Lying comfortably in Liu Ping’s arms, she didn’t even bother to hide her white tail.

Running his hand through Bai Zhi’s silky hair, Liu Ping smiled and said, “Even though you’ll be mine sooner or later, I won’t be so eager to take your dowry. It would make me seem rather useless.”

Bai Zhi, enjoying his caress, blinked her bright eyes and replied, “Young master is the most capable; you’re sure to earn lots of money. But Bai Zhi’s money is your money—there’s no need to stand on ceremony.”

Liu Ping shook his head slightly, his hand sliding from her soft hair down to her back, gently stroking it. Nestled in his arms, Bai Zhi let out a soft sound, her cheeks flushing. Afraid that he would see how easily she was flustered, she buried her face in his chest.

“It’s a matter of self-respect,” Liu Ping said. “I may have a high opinion of myself, but I do have my pride.”

“Young master isn’t pretentious at all. You’re a true gentleman,” Bai Zhi said with conviction.

Hearing her praise, Liu Ping smiled and stroked her smooth back. The sensation was quite pleasing. Suddenly, his gaze fell on her exposed, snowy tail, and he reached out to touch it.

“Ah… Young master, don’t touch me there!” Bai Zhi’s body went limp in his embrace, and she couldn’t help but scold him playfully.

“You’re mine anyway; what’s the harm in touching?” Liu Ping replied with a laugh, continuing to stroke her tail.

“Mmm…” Bai Zhi’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes shimmering as she looked up. “But it feels a little… strange…”

Only now did Liu Ping realize just how sensitive Bai Zhi was to touch there. He quickly withdrew his hand, saying, “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s all right, it didn’t feel bad—just a bit odd. Actually, it was sort of nice…” Bai Zhi mumbled as she settled back into his arms.

Is she really this precocious? Liu Ping wondered to himself. She was no longer a little girl, and undeniably enticing, but still looked only ten years old. If he were to do anything, it would no doubt leave a lasting psychological scar… He couldn’t be so depraved—every man has his moral bottom line.

The atmosphere grew slightly awkward. After a moment’s thought, Liu Ping spoke up, “A gentleman loves wealth, but acquires it by honorable means. Still, it is rather difficult for me to make money.”

Scholars were forbidden from engaging in business; otherwise, they would lose their right to take the imperial exam. That edict rendered many lucrative inventions useless.

But, as with all things, there were loopholes. If he couldn’t do business himself, he could have someone do it for him, or hand over his inventions to wealthy patrons like Wang Bin and collect a share of the profits.

Wouldn’t this be an even better way to reap the rewards effortlessly?

It did seem like a viable plan.

Still, there would be gossip, but if one wanted wealth, it was unavoidable. To gain something, one must pay the price.

Bai Zhi, nestled in his arms, said, “Why doesn’t young master earn money in a scholar’s way?”

“In a scholar’s way?” Liu Ping shook his head. “That’s wishful thinking. Scholars? Copying texts? Writing couplets? Becoming someone’s retainer? There’s no future in that.”

“Is there really no future?” Bai Zhi asked.

“Of course not.” Liu Ping nodded, then suddenly had a thought: “Wait, where there’s a will, there’s a way. There is a method to make money!”

“What method?” Bai Zhi asked curiously.

“Writing novels!” Liu Ping declared.

“You mean those popular stories about the ways of the world?” Bai Zhi exclaimed in surprise.

Liu Ping nodded and smiled. “Exactly. If they sell well, not only will I gain fame and luck, but also a steady stream of income. It’s the best of both worlds.”

“But can you write novels, young master?” Bai Zhi asked.

“Of course I can,” Liu Ping replied, though he felt a pang of guilt. He wasn’t planning to write one, but to copy one. If he really tried to write a novel from scratch, he might manage something decent, but it would be exhausting and might not even sell well. Compared to that, copying was much easier. It wasn’t stealing, but making use of resources. If he refrained out of guilt, that would be truly pretentious.

He had read many novels in his previous life. The best to copy were the Four Great Classical Novels, as well as others like Plum in the Golden Vase and The Investiture of the Gods. These were masterpieces that had stood the test of time.

“What should I write?” Liu Ping mused inwardly, stroking his chin. He hadn’t read Dream of the Red Chamber in depth, and it was unfinished. The later chapters by Gao E were decent, but he hadn’t studied them closely. Water Margin had a problematic setting. Journey to the West, though, seemed like a good choice.

But if he wrote Journey to the West, he would likely offend a host of Buddhist disciples. Although Liu Ping cared little for those bald priests, it wasn’t worth making enemies over a book. If a powerful one took offense and suppressed him, there would be nowhere to cry for help.

Despite its overt themes of seeking scriptures and spreading the Dharma, the author of Journey to the West clearly didn’t understand Buddhism, and the novel lampooned the faith mercilessly. The most blatant example was at the end, when, after countless trials, the disciples reached the Western Paradise, only to be told by Ananda and Kasyapa that they wouldn’t receive the scriptures without a bribe. If he left out such details, it would amount to promoting Buddhism—and he was a Daoist disciple, after all.

By comparison, Romance of the Three Kingdoms seemed the safest bet.

But writing only Romance of the Three Kingdoms would be dull, especially since this was a world where Daoist arts were real, and the Three Kingdoms era didn’t exist here. Its value would be much diminished.

Suddenly, inspiration struck. He remembered a certain novel from his past life and couldn’t help but laugh. That was it—he could blend Romance of the Three Kingdoms and The Investiture of the Gods together, and call it The Deification of the Three Kingdoms!

Having made up his mind, Liu Ping smiled. “I can’t wait to start writing!”

“What kind of story are you planning, young master?” Bai Zhi asked curiously.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Liu Ping replied.

Confident as he was, a new problem presented itself. He had only read these novels once in his past life; he couldn’t possibly recall every detail verbatim. He remembered many short poems and verses, but a full-length novel was much harder to reconstruct. The memories were fragmented at best. Perhaps he could ask his senior sister if there was a spell to help with recollection.

“Don’t keep me in suspense, young master!” Bai Zhi pouted.

“Kiss me and I’ll tell you,” Liu Ping teased.

She didn’t mind kissing him—after all, she liked her young master—but being coerced made her feel like she was being bullied. Bai Zhi turned away with a huff. “I won’t kiss you.”

“Then I won’t tell you,” Liu Ping replied.

After a moment’s hesitation, Bai Zhi leaned over and planted a big kiss on his cheek.

At that moment, there was a knock at the door, and his sister’s voice called out, “Brother, I’ve brought you some food.”

“Come in,” Liu Ping said, glancing at Bai Zhi.

She pouted, reluctantly transforming into a white fox.

The meal was simple yet heartwarming, carefully prepared with obvious care. Liu Ping smiled gently as he was about to eat, but Bai Zhi darted over and took a bite first.

“Ah! Where did this fox come from?” Liu Yue cried out, trying to shoo it away.

Liu Ping intervened helplessly, saying, “It’s all right—let her have a little.”

“Oh.” Liu Yue had no choice but to acquiesce, though she shot a wary glance at Bai Zhi. This was food she’d made especially for her brother, after all!

Bai Zhi shivered under her gaze and looked at Liu Yue pitifully.

But Liu Yue ignored her and glared back, wounding Bai Zhi’s pride. According to her young master, this was “acting cute”—but it seemed to have no effect on his sister at all!

—

Lately, my spirits have been low, and I haven’t been satisfied with what I’ve written these past few days. Last night, I went to West Lake for inspiration (which is why this update is late), and now my energy is renewed. I will write better and better, and I hope everyone will continue to support me with recommendations!