Side Story: Cui Jiulang: The Shackles of Reason and the Shadow of Loss of Control
They all call me "Jade-faced Yama" behind my back.
A jade-like face is an innate quality of the direct descendant of the Cui clan of Boling, a testament to the character and integrity honed through generations of high-ranking officials. Yama, the King of Hell, is a title I earned with my own hands, through the lives of my mentor, the reverence of my clan, and the blood and bones of my adversaries.
I often hold that jade ruyi scepter in my hand; its cold touch keeps me constantly alert. Everything in this world can be weighed, can be calculated. Emotions? Those are poisons only the weak indulge in, floods that overwhelm reason. I have long since locked them away deep within the ninefold darkness.
It wasn't until I met the young widow, Liu Bao'er, holding the memorial tablet at Zuixianlou.
She wore a worn-out ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress), and was shorter than the white porcelain vase from the Xing kiln in my study. She was so thin that a gust of wind could blow her over. But her eyes… were too still, as still as an unyielding, bottomless pool, reflecting neither the fear a child should have nor the sorrow of an ordinary woman, only a cruel, emotionless calmness. I threw out a fictitious debt of three thousand guan, wanting to see her cry and beg for mercy, wanting to crush the composure that shouldn't belong to her age and circumstances, wanting to prove that she was no different from those who groveled before the Cui family's gate.
But she remained silent, then raised her eyes and, in a voice still somewhat childish but exceptionally clear, precisely pointed out an extremely subtle logical trap in my words.
At that moment, my fingers, which were holding the jade ruyi, paused almost imperceptibly. It was as if I wasn't examining an orphan girl, but facing someone... a kindred spirit? No, not a kindred spirit. It was another form of rational existence, purer and more extreme. My rationality stemmed from rigorous training and painful choices; while hers seemed innate, the cornerstone of her soul (if she possessed it).
Later, she presented a bronze plaque in return, and holding the imperial "Diligent Merchant" signboard, she sat down before me again, unfolding that grand blueprint encompassing the Silk Road. As I listened to her utter unfamiliar yet precise terms like "standardized vouchers," "two-way pledging," and "risk hedging," and saw the sharp glint in her eyes—the kind only seen in the eyes of a top hunter locking onto their prey—my long-frozen heart began to throb uncontrollably.
It wasn't entirely about profit; it was more about witnessing another extreme manifestation of "rationality." My Cui family controls wealth through a century of accumulated connections, power, and an intricate network of relationships. But she, she seemed to be using an invisible scalpel to dissect everything in the world—including human relationships, power, and even national laws—into cold, hard data streams and rule models. She didn't believe in empty promises, only in verifiable contracts and probabilities.
How absurd, yet how... fascinating.
My agreement to cooperate with her wasn't because I completely believed her vision could be realized. I simply wanted to see up close what kind of world this unusually sharp "scalpel" could carve out in this chaotic world, and where it would ultimately point.
We began building "Datong POS" together. She insisted on setting up a "risk reserve fund," arguing with me logically and persuading me with that alarmingly steep curve of credit collapse. Watching her focused calculations and explanations, her unwavering demeanor, I was momentarily reminded of myself ten years ago.
That year, the family's most important business, the canal transport in Jiangnan, was meticulously orchestrated by rivals, plunging them into a massive deficit and bringing them to the brink of collapse. The elders hesitated, still clinging to the illusion of maintaining appearances, attempting to salvage the situation by cutting their losses.
It was me who stepped forward.
I spent three days and three nights checking all the related accounts and deducing all the possible chain reactions. The cold numbers told me that I had to immediately and decisively cut off that thoroughly corrupted branch, even if that branch was connected to my mentor who had personally taught me business for ten years and treated me like a son.
I remember when I entered my mentor's study, he was brewing tea, and the aroma filled the air. He looked up, saw it was me, and his face showed his usual gentle and expectant smile: "Jiulang, you've come."
My hands, clenched tightly in my sleeves, nails digging deep into my palms, maintained a calm, or rather, numb, expression through sharp pain. I gently placed the account book filled with his "evidence" on the rosewood table in front of him, the same table where we had discussed business strategies countless times, my voice completely flat: "Sir, please take your own life."
The smile on his face froze instantly. He stared at me in disbelief, his eyes, once full of wisdom and compassion, now seemed to have lost all their luster, dimming and leaving only immense shock and… a trace of knowing sorrow. He didn't argue, he didn't rebuke me, he just let out a long, long sigh, a sigh so heavy it seemed to crush the integrity of his entire life.
"Jiulang, you... are very good." He only said these three words in the end, and then, with trembling hands, he drank the cup of poison that he may have prepared for himself long ago.
I watched him fall, his body gradually growing cold and stiff before my eyes. There was no expected sorrow in my heart, only a vast, cold emptiness, and a...distorted, relieved liberation. I had "saved" my family with the most rational method, the most "correct" choice.
From that moment on, I never shed another tear. Reason became my only armor, but also an inescapable shackle that seeped into my very bones.
But Liu Bao'er seemed born without these shackles. Her rationality was innate, untainted by worldly concerns. She could melt down the memorial tablet symbolizing her "deceased husband" without batting an eye, calculate how to maximize her own interests without any psychological burden, and even use her "sorrow" and "filial piety" as bargaining chips. She didn't understand, or rather disdained, the sticky constraints of social etiquette, and thus became even more...free. A freedom that dazzled me, even made me secretly envious.
So I tacitly approved and even encouraged that run test. I wanted to see if she could still maintain that chilling, almost inhuman calm when the real storm hit and the rules upon which she depended for survival were about to collapse.
She did it. She did it even better than I imagined. Not only did she stabilize the situation, but she also used my test to show me her deeper hand and a more ruthless approach, stating bluntly that she would reassess her cooperation with me if she had to resort to her final contingency plan.
At that moment, I saw not a trace of the panic or grievance of a young woman in her, only the calm warning of a top strategist who had absolute control of the situation. I couldn't help but burst into laughter. Not the fake laughter I usually wore behind a mask, but a heartfelt, almost manic joy.
In her presence, I need not wear the mask of a "jade-faced Yama," nor conceal the coldness and scheming inherent in my bones. Because her rationality is more thorough, purer, and colder than mine. Standing beside her, I feel a strange, distorted sense of relaxation. It's like being another version of myself, a self stripped of all shackles, an absolutely rational self.
I know this isn't love in the conventional sense. Love is chaotic, exclusive, and an irrational impulse.
This is a more sophisticated and dangerous attraction. It is the gaze of icebergs meeting, seeking resonance in absolute cold; it is the entanglement of reason and reason, confirming each other's existence in endless calculation.
When the Liangzhou robbery broke out and all the evidence pointed to her, my first thought was not the fear that my family might be implicated, but a question that even I found despicable—would she finally fall? Would she reveal the vulnerability that belongs to "human beings"?
When I cornered her in the ancestral hall with red eyes and questioned her sternly, a secret expectation lingered deep within me. I longed to see cracks appear in her bastion of reason, to see her experience fear, to defend herself, and even to weep like an ordinary person.
That way, perhaps it can prove that she and I are ultimately different. It can prove that the heavy shackles in my heart are not meaningless.
But she still didn't.
In that desperate situation, instead of collapsing, she devised a plan—a "reverse short-selling system"—a plan so insane it defied all my understanding. At that moment, watching her emerge from the ruins and flames, her eyes gleaming with a cold, sharp intensity, I finally understood. My rationality was confined by worldly constraints, while hers had begun to explore and challenge the "natural order" that shaped this world!
Now, she stands at the pinnacle of power, a position even the imperial court must tread carefully, yet she is clearly trapped in some deeper, more profound mystery concerning "existence." She often gazes into the distance, lost in thought, her eyes filled with a detachment and searching I cannot comprehend, as if she were staring at a world of another dimension.
And I, still holding my jade ruyi, stood a step behind her.
Watching her struggle with those unseen things I couldn't perceive, watching her try to break free from that larger cage that perhaps even she herself couldn't fully comprehend.
The bond between us, built on rationality, remains strong, even more so because we've both experienced systemic shocks together. But a new sense of distance has also emerged—she's entered a realm I can't follow.
I've worn these golden shackles of the mortal world for half my life, and I've long since grown accustomed to their weight.
Now, watching her charge against that vaster, more fundamental prison seems to me... a kind of solace, a different kind of "freedom".
But sometimes, in the dead of night, as I hold the cold jade ruyi in my hand, I recall the look in her eyes when she asked, "What is the end of the world?" Then I wonder, if she truly found the end, broke free of her cage, what would become of me, standing still in the same place?
This thought gnawed at my absolute rationality, which I depended on for survival, like a venomous snake.
And this, perhaps, is the deepest bond she left me with, and the heaviest punishment.
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