Five years ago, in the Great Liang Dynasty.
Deep within a bamboo forest, an old man and a young man sat facing each other. Between them was a small table bearing a Go board. A young servant and two maids attended them. The maids couldn’t help but steal glances at the young man’s face, which was as bright and clear as the moon. Their ears flushed red, and they wished he would drink his tea faster, giving them a chance to get a closer look at him when they refilled his cup.
The young servant standing beside the young man was of a similar age, but his dark complexion was less appealing to the young women compared to the young master’s extraordinary air. Not to mention, his eyes darted about constantly, a clear sign of a restless spirit. However, the servant harbored no ill intentions. He was simply marveling to himself that while the mountains, water, and trees in the Prefect’s estate were still mountains, water, and trees, they were somehow more beautiful than the ones back at his own master’s residence. Even the young ladies here were prettier. He couldn’t figure out why.
Ah, no, the servant shook his head internally. Our young miss is prettier than the young ladies here. Hehe, I don’t know what luck our Yun family has to have produced two people who look like immortals. When I have children in the future, I must be thick-skinned and beg the mistress for a piece of the young master’s swaddling clothes.
Evidently, the young man playing Go with the old man was Yun Xuan, not yet twenty years of age. He had not yet passed the provincial examinations, but with the prestige of being a top scholar, the recommendation of his academy’s master, and his family’s reputation, he had become an unofficial disciple of the Prefect of Jinling. If he could pass the next provincial exam, he would be accepted as an official disciple. However, judging by how often the Prefect summoned him to the estate for a game of Go, anyone with eyes could see that the Prefect had already decided to take him on.
A soft click broke the long silence at the Go board. After a quarter of an hour of contemplation, the Prefect made a decisive, winning move.
Yun Xuan looked at the board in surprise. Just a moment ago, he had held the advantage, but his teacher’s move, like dotting the eyes of a painted dragon, had brought a dead game back to life. The situation was instantly reversed, and he was the one with no way out.
The Prefect, who had made the move, was clearly pleased. He slowly stroked his beard without a word, confident that with his disciple’s perceptiveness, it was only a matter of time before he understood the subtlety behind it.
After staring silently at the board for the time it takes an incense stick to burn, Yun Xuan let out a long sigh. “This disciple was too eager for victory.”
A look of appreciation shone in the Prefect’s eyes. He took the opportunity to guide the brilliant but still green youth. “In a confrontation, the seeds of one’s defeat are often sown at the very moment one desires victory. Such instances are not uncommon in this world. How many have made grave errors in the course of achieving greatness? This is not the fault of ambition itself, but of an overeager desire for victory.”
Yun Xuan wore a receptive expression, his face naturally showing a look of admiration and reverence. He stood, clasped his hands, and bowed to the old man. “This disciple will remember.”
Five years later, A-District.
Yun Xuan awoke from his dream. He drank a glass of cold water and gazed dispassionately into the dim room.
He’d had that dream again.
But this dream was quite fitting for the occasion. It felt like both a warning and a commendation to himself.
Teacher, I have mastered the move you taught me. My opponent is about to be driven into a corner. Indeed, just as you said, using victory to stir a person’s desires is the fastest path to winning.
This world was utterly wretched. There was no moral order, the natural balance was in chaos, sages had vanished, and bandits ran rampant. But soon, it would be cleansed.
Soon.
Yun Xuan lay back down and closed his eyes again.
This time, he fell into a dream from which he would not so easily wake.
One month ago, aboard the White Star spaceship.
This spaceship belonged to the imperial family. It was one of their preferred choices for traveling to other planets on official business, so the people of the Empire were quite familiar with it. In news footage, they had seen the golden-haired members of the Hall family hundreds of times, slowly descending from the spaceship’s brilliant white exit, their faces often bearing that dignified and profound expression so characteristic of their family.
And the current Empress wore just such an expression.
Across from her sat her subject, who was also her Marshal—at least, in name.
The two sat quietly by a porthole. The ship was traveling through space at four hundred thousand kilometers per hour, but due to the vast, monotonous backdrop, looking out the window made it seem more like a colossal sanctuary suspended in the cosmos, tightly wrapped in a curtain of stars and darkness.
The ship’s interior was lavish, but not in the vulgar way of gaudy gold. As the imperial family’s private transport, it needed to reflect the ruler’s depth and magnanimity. Thus, its luxury came from a deliberate—or perhaps natural—use of items that ordinary people considered luxuries as everyday, or even disposable, objects. This included the crystal glass in Chu Meng’s hand, crafted by the top artist, Master Olsen. It was made of some unknown material that refracted light differently depending on the viewing angle.
And this expensive glass was merely for serving a one-time guest.
Even if this guest could be considered distinguished, she also noticed that on a nearby shelf, there were many other equally expensive glasses, each from a different master.
Chu Meng took a small sip of tea, thinking to herself that if everything on this spaceship were sold, it could probably cover the Legion’s military expenses for ten years.
The two of them had not met in a private setting for a long time. After all, they had an awkward entanglement in their youth. Even with Chu Meng’s forthright nature, she couldn’t bring herself to be friends with an alpha who had once pursued her and with whom she had conflicting ideologies.
Even if that person was the Empress of the Empire.
“Your Majesty, are you certain you want to legislate 182 seats in the parliament for omegas?” After a long silence, Chu Meng finally asked the question. It was the reason she had come aboard this spaceship today.
The Empress smiled faintly, a ripple of pleasure crossing her perpetually inscrutable features. “Of course. I believe this gender civil war has already consumed too much of our energy. We should be focusing our efforts on more meaningful matters, not this endless internal strife.”
“I agree with your assessment and greatly admire Your Majesty’s magnanimity. However, I’m a soldier, so I prefer to be direct.” Chu Meng paused. “What are the conditions, Your Majesty?”
The Empress gently tapped her fingers on the armrest made of phoenix wood. She wore a long, silver-white robe, and her hair was nearly the same color, yet there was no trace of twilight about her. Medical technology had erased the wrinkles from her face, making her look forty at most, still fully capable of bearing the weight of the word “ambitious.” “As I’ve told you, the parliament will henceforth have 182 alphas, 182 omegas, and 156 betas. In terms of executive power, this will be the most equal the Empire has ever been. But, Marshal, you know that when it comes to equality, our beta friends seem to be getting the short end of the stick.”
Chu Meng’s eyes narrowed slightly, the tip of her tongue pressing against the roof of her mouth. Then she smiled. “Your Majesty, are your conditions the starships?”
The Empress slowly shook her head, effortlessly handling Chu Meng’s veiled anger. “Marshal, these are not my conditions. They are the conditions for equality.”
They looked at each other, and the air between them seemed to solidify into heavy steel under the silent, tense atmosphere, poised to crash down on one of them.
“Since this is the price of equality, why is Your Majesty the only one here to negotiate? Where are our beta friends?” Chu Meng retorted, her tone light but pointed.
The Empress seemed prepared for this. She clapped her hands, and a light screen illuminated a short distance away. The figures of a dozen people appeared on it. They were the very tip of the beta pyramid, representing the will of nearly the entire beta aristocracy and capable of securing the support of the vast majority of betas through their power.
The Empress made a welcoming gesture. “Marshal, they have arrived.”
Chu Meng glanced at the Empress, then at the betas on the screen. She didn’t believe that after being ordered about by omegas during the Activation War, the betas would now be willing to remain subservient to alphas for the sake of power in the Empire.
Which meant there was room for negotiation.
But she still needed to wait and see.
Chu Meng turned her chair, thought for a moment, and then addressed the group of betas. “We are now negotiating for equality, correct?”
The betas were not all in the same location, but upon hearing Chu Meng’s words, they all nodded in unison. “Of course, Marshal.”
Three days later.
Chu Meng returned to her own spaceship. During the three days of negotiations, no treaty was signed, not even a verbal agreement was made. They talked without clear boundaries, covering everything from lingering historical issues to future development. It was chaotic, but it was also real.
Of course, there was the possibility of conspiracy. The Howard family had marriage ties to the imperial family. Betas could also give birth to alphas and omegas—the chances were small, but it happened. And among this small handful of alphas and omegas, at least half would form marriage alliances with the imperial family.
In other words, the Howard family and the imperial family had deep connections. If the starships were handed over to the betas, the royal family would inevitably exert influence over them through the Howard family.
Over the past few days, the focus of Chu Meng’s negotiations had been to remove the Howard family’s right to participate in matters concerning the starships as much as possible. The Empress, however, refused to yield on this point. In the end, the two reached a rather tenuous balance.
Yes, she had never considered rejecting the proposal.
Starships were inanimate; people were what’s alive. Omegas had held four starships for over three hundred years, but under pressure from a parliament and supreme court controlled by alphas, a considerable number of omegas had come to see becoming an alpha’s vassal as a matter of course. If it weren’t for Spartacus stirring things up, coupled with the shock from Glory, it wouldn’t be long before omegas devolved from vassals into mere breeding machines.
In the early days of the Empire, omegas constantly giving birth could be explained as a way to recover from the ravages of war, along with the limitations of technology at the time. But now, the population was more than sufficient, and inhibitor development was thriving. To be reduced to breeding machines at this stage meant that even if they had starships, omegas would no longer be able to pilot them.
