The Hidden Sword

Red and gold hues paint the autumn breeze; fragrant golden chrysanthemums bloom. The geese depart, leaving the vast sky lonely; the sun sets, cradled in the evening glow. I climb the tower and gaze toward Qin and Lu; in dreams, I ascend to the Jade Terrace. And there, a celestial maiden in rainbow robes comes dancing down from the moon. “Jia” means sword. In the past, Feng Xuan sang “The Long Sword Song” three times, and everyone was sick of his endless greed. But Meng Changjun granted his requests, and Feng Xuan later offered advice time and again, helping him avert disaster and escape danger. For a long time, I likened myself to Feng Xuan, hoping to be recognized and given a chance to show my talents. Yet as I approach forty, no one has listened to my “Long Sword Song.” All the wisdom of Laozi, Zhuangzi, Confucius, Mencius, Sun Tzu, Han Feizi, and Mozi in my belly has turned into a dragon-slaying art with no use at all... So I set my long sword on a high shelf, and let a single dream turn immortals and demons into legend. This is The Tale of the Hidden Sword. This is my first book, and I took a few wrong turns along the way. Volume One is best read as a preview; Volume Two is where the real feast begins. As the saying goes, “If you can chew on the roots of vegetables, you can accomplish anything.” I think that applies to reading this book, too.