Ah, Yiren. What a find. What a perfectly broken thing.
To most, you were nothing—a hostage prince, discarded and forgotten in the cold halls of Handan. Mocked. Beaten. Useless.
But to me? You were raw potential. A diamond buried beneath mud. And I— I was the man who would carve you into something useful.
Let's not romanticize it. I'm a gambler. Not the kind who tosses coins over dice in a wine shop. No—I wager the house, the street, the entire district. With you, Yiren, the stakes were monumental. You weren't just a man. You were a door. A narrow, treacherous passage that might lead me straight into the royal courts of Qin.
And if I could step through that door— I would shed the stench of trade and become something greater. Noble. Respected. Permanent.
You were perfect because you were weak—stripped of dignity, invisible, discarded. One among twenty brothers, sent here not to learn, not to rise—but to be forgotten. A hostage to keep the peace. A living receipt.
But a pawn, if it survives long enough, can cross the board—become a king.
Let's not lie to ourselves. You didn't survive Zhao because you were clever or brave. You survived because no one noticed you. And that made you mine. Malleable. Desperate. Willing to cling to any hand that pulled you from the dark.
I made my fortune by understanding value. And you, Yiren— you were a commodity like no other.
Broken enough to obey. Whole enough to be rebuilt.
That's why I chose you. Not because you were worthy, but because you were worthless. And worthless things, when polished properly, can outshine even the brightest gems.
Of course, it came at a cost.
I didn't nibble around the edges. I poured wealth into you like wine into a cracked vessel—bribes to Zhao's officials, gifts to petty ministers, banquets for whispers, favors for silence. Every coin placed with precision. Every move calculated.
And once I'd cracked the cage open—then came the real work.
I remade you.
Silks tailored to command attention. Invitations to my gatherings, where men of consequence sat. I surrounded you with the glitter of power, the illusion of strength. You learned to stand straight, to speak with confidence, to smile without groveling.
You began to resemble a prince.
Not because you were one. But because I made you look like one.
The others mocked me. Called it folly. Throwing coin and favor at a prince with no claim. A dog with no teeth.
But they didn't see what I saw. They never do.
Because this was never about you, Yiren. You were a vessel. A stepping stone. A delivery mechanism for my ambition.
If I could escort you back to Qin, earn your trust, carve a place at your side… then I would no longer be a merchant. I would be a statesman. A power.
A man whose name outlasts his pulse.
So I wagered everything. Because that's what I do.
Safe is for men content to rot. I bet the house. The land. The future.
And now— the dice are rolling.
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The room pulsed with energy, the air alive with laughter, conversation, and the soft strains of music weaving through it all like an invisible thread. My home—my sanctuary of quiet power—was now alight with the warmth of oil lamps and the clatter of bronze wine cups on low resting stools. The scent of roasted duck, sweet honeyed pork, and spiced rice wine hung heavy, mingling with the faint perfume of my guests' robes.
Tonight's gathering was no ordinary affair. Among the merchants, nobles, and influential courtiers sat Yiren—the man I had spent months grooming into something presentable. Gone was the ragged shadow who'd shuffled into my orbit. The young man across the room now held his cup with the steady hand of someone who had learned to belong.
Yet, even in his transformation, he was easy to read. His gaze betrayed him.
Yiren's eyes, dark and unwavering, had latched onto her. Lady Zhao.
Ah, yes. She was the crown jewel of the evening, and she knew it. Draped in silks of deep crimson, her hair adorned with golden pins that shimmered with every turn of her head, Lady Zhao was a living flame that drew every moth in the room. She smiled, laughed, and let her hands flutter as she spoke to my guests, her movements deliberate yet natural. She was skilled in this dance of courtly charm, and her allure filled the room like a heady wine.
I watched from the edge, unseen and observing, as Yiren's infatuation unfolded in real time. His gaze never wavered, his fingers gripping his cup too tightly, his breaths too shallow. He was enraptured. And I... I was intrigued.
At first, the realization brought a flicker of irritation. Lady Zhao was mine. She was my indulgence, my carefully chosen companion, a symbol of my refinement amidst my merchant origins. But as the minutes passed, my irritation morphed into something else—something darker, more thrilling.
An opportunity. Unexpected, yes, but undeniable. This was a gift handed to me by fate, one I could not afford to let slip through my fingers. The possibility of using this newfound weakness in Yiren excited me.
Would this fascination make him pliant? Loyal?
The possibilities swirled in my mind like a gambler's spinning wheel.
I approached Yiren during a lull in the evening, catching him as he refilled his wine cup.
"You've been quiet tonight," I said, my voice low and even. "Not like you to hold your tongue."
He startled slightly, then composed himself. "Just observing, Master Lü. It's a lively gathering."
I leaned in, lowering my voice. "Observing, yes. That much is clear. But what exactly has held your attention so completely?"
His jaw tightened, his eyes darting briefly—almost imperceptibly—toward Lady Zhao. It was all I needed.
I chuckled, a quiet sound laced with understanding. "Ah, I see. You've noticed her, haven't you? Lady Zhao does have that effect on a room. Hard to look away, isn't it?"
Yiren's face darkened, his pride warring with his embarrassment. He said nothing.
"Relax, there's no need for formality between us," I said smoothly, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "There's no shame in admiring beauty. It's the most natural thing in the world."
His voice came out low, almost hesitant. "She's... extraordinary."
I tilted my head, studying him with feigned casualness. "Extraordinary indeed. And yet... beauty, like opportunity, is fleeting. It's meant to be seized."
His head snapped toward me, his expression conflicted. "What are you saying, Master Lü?"
I leaned closer, my words measured. "I'm saying, if you truly desire something—or someone—you must have the courage to reach for it. A man in your position cannot afford to hesitate."
His breath caught, and for a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath with him.
"Yes," he said finally, his voice raw with conviction. "Yes, I want her. If... if there's any way you could help me, Master Lü, I would be forever in your debt."
Ah, there it was. The confession. The admission. The opportunity.
I smiled faintly. "We'll see, Yiren. We'll see."
I left him there, his thoughts swirling in the haze of wine and longing, and made my way toward Lady Zhao. She stood near the musicians, her laughter floating like a bell over the low hum of conversation.
"Lady Zhao," I said, my tone soft yet commanding. "You've been enchanting our guests tonight."
She turned to me, her eyes sparkling. "And you, my lord, have filled your home with the most interesting company."
I stepped closer, lowering my voice just enough. "I was thinking, my dear, that the evening could use a touch of brilliance to truly make it unforgettable."
She tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her gaze.
"A dance," I said simply. "For our honored guests. And perhaps, particularly for one."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but her smile never faltered. "For one, you say? And who might that be?"
I allowed the faintest smile to touch my lips. "Yiren. Our guest of honor."
Her lips parted as if to protest, but she stopped herself, sensing the weight behind my words.
"Of course," she said finally, her tone sweet yet edged with intrigue.
I nodded, stepping back to let her prepare. As she moved toward the center of the room, a thought flickered through my mind—a revelation as sharp as it was unsettling.
Ownership is a feeling. A sentimental illusion. Shift the lens, and the whole picture changes.
Lady Zhao, once a jewel in my collection, now moved like a piece across the board—a piece that could turn the tide.
The faint stirrings of triumph rose within me, deeper now, more potent. The game was in motion. And soon, the stakes would rise higher than either Yiren or Lady Zhao could imagine.