A week had passed since Li Yuan arrived in the Yunfeng Kingdom. He had spent that time walking through the various city levels, speaking with merchants, artisans, farmers cultivating on the steep mountain terraces, and the elders of the mountain clans who had lived here for generations.
Through his Wenjing Realm, he heard a broad spectrum of opinions about the approaching succession crisis. Some supported Prince Tian with great passion, envisioning a future where Yunfeng Kingdom became a prosperous trading hub. Others stood firmly behind Princess Mei, valuing the independence and traditional way of life that had served them well.
But what interested Li Yuan most were those in the middle—the people who saw value in both visions but feared that a conflict would destroy everything they held dear.
On the eighth day, an invitation arrived at the inn. A messenger wearing a sky-blue robe—the color of Princess Mei—carried a scroll sealed with red wax.
"Mister Li Yuan," the messenger said in a formal tone. "Her Royal Highness Princess Mei requests your presence at the palace for a private conversation. She has heard that you are a wise wanderer, and she wishes to hear your perspective on the situation in our kingdom."
Li Yuan accepted the invitation with a calm nod.
"When does Her Highness expect me?"
"When the sun reaches its zenith. I will escort you."
The journey to the palace was a challenging climb even for someone with a tireless consciousness body. Countless stone stairs, carved directly from the side of the mountain, ascended almost vertically in some sections. At a few points, narrow suspension bridges were the only way to cross deep ravines.
But Li Yuan moved with a serenity that made the messenger—who had been climbing these stairs since childhood—feel a bit uncomfortable.
"You... you are not out of breath at all," the messenger commented with undisguised curiosity. "The air up here is so thin that even our natives need a rest while climbing to the palace."
Li Yuan smiled gently.
"I have learned to breathe in a... an efficient way," he said with a simplicity that didn't fully explain.
The palace they finally reached was an architectural marvel—a massive structure carved directly from the mountain peak, with towers that soared into the sky and balconies that hung over deep ravines. From here, the entire Yunfeng Kingdom was visible below, scattered across various peaks and valleys like jewels sprinkled over a rocky landscape.
Princess Mei waited in an open garden, planted with dwarf trees that had been adapted to live at this altitude. She was a woman in her thirties with an upright posture and sharp eyes—eyes that had seen the kingdom from these heights since childhood and understood every detail of its way of life.
"Mister Li Yuan," she greeted in a tone that was respectful but also assessing. "Thank you for coming. Please, sit."
Li Yuan sat on a stone bench facing the view of the kingdom below. Princess Mei sat across from him, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
"I have heard that you have spent time speaking with my people," she said directly. "That you have listened to their opinions on... our current situation."
"Yes," Li Yuan confirmed with simplicity. "I always find that the best way to understand a place is to listen to the people who live there."
"And what have you learned?"
Li Yuan contemplated the question before answering.
"I have learned that the people of Yunfeng love their kingdom very much. That they are proud of what they have built in such a challenging place. But I have also learned that they are afraid—afraid that the conflict between you and your brother will destroy everything they cherish."
Princess Mei nodded with a serious expression.
"A valid fear. I am also afraid of that. But I cannot compromise my vision for the future of this kingdom just to avoid conflict."
"Your vision is to maintain isolation and tradition," Li Yuan stated, not asking.
"Yes. Mister Li Yuan, I have studied history. I have read about other kingdoms that opened themselves to the outside world, that believed trade and alliances would bring prosperity. And do you know what happened to them?"
She did not wait for an answer.
"They lost their independence. They became dependent on larger kingdoms. Outside merchants came and exploited their resources. Foreign advisors influenced their policies. And slowly, without realizing it, they no longer controlled their own destiny."
Princess Mei stood up and walked to the edge of the balcony, looking out at the kingdom below.
"Yunfeng Kingdom has endured for hundreds of years because we are hidden, because we are self-sufficient, because we need no one. Why should I risk all of that just because my brother believes the grass is greener on the other side of the mountain?"
Li Yuan listened with deep attention. Through his Wenjing Realm, he heard the intention behind Princess Mei's words: not arrogance or pride, but a genuine fear—the fear that opening the kingdom would lead to a loss of identity, independence, and the way of life that made Yunfeng unique.
"Your argument has merit," Li Yuan finally said with honesty. "History does show that small kingdoms that open up often face the risk of domination by larger neighbors. And there is real value in independence and the preservation of tradition."
Princess Mei turned to look at him with a slightly surprised expression—she clearly had not expected a foreign wanderer to agree with her.
"But," Li Yuan continued in a more serious tone, "your argument also has a weakness that you need to consider."
"What weakness?"
"Complete isolation is a double-edged sword. Yes, it protects you from external exploitation. But it also makes you vulnerable in other ways. When the world changes—and the world always changes—an isolated kingdom falls behind. They lose access to new knowledge, new technologies, new ideas that could help them thrive."
Li Yuan stood and walked to stand next to Princess Mei, both of them looking out at the kingdom below.
"And there is another risk that might be even more dangerous: stagnation. When a community is too focused on preserving the old ways, they can lose the ability to adapt. And when a crisis comes—a natural disaster, a plague, a climate change that makes farming more difficult—they may not have the flexibility to survive."
Princess Mei fell silent, contemplating the words.
"So you think my brother is right? That we should open up?"
"I am not saying that your brother is right," Li Yuan corrected gently. "I am saying that both of your visions have partial truths and partial risks. The problem is not that one of you is wrong, but that you are both so focused on your own vision that you cannot see the value or weakness in the other's."
He turned to look at Princess Mei with eyes that carried the depth of vast experience.
"The question you must ask is not 'is my brother right or am I right?' The question you must ask is 'how can we integrate the truths from both our visions to create a future that is better than either of us could achieve alone?'"
Princess Mei looked at Li Yuan with a complex expression—a mixture of uncertainty, curiosity, and resistance.
"You make that sound easy. But in practice? How do you integrate two visions that are fundamentally at odds?"
"By focusing not on abstract ideas but on the concrete needs of the people," Li Yuan answered with simplicity. "What do they truly need? What will make their lives better, safer, more meaningful? And then, how can both your visions contribute to that goal?"
Before Princess Mei could respond, a servant came rushing.
"Your Highness, I apologize for the interruption. But Prince Tian requests an audience. He says it is urgent."
Princess Mei sighed with a mixture of frustration and worry.
"Let him in."
Prince Tian who entered the garden a few moments later was a man in his late twenties with a restless energy—eyes that constantly moved, hands that gestured with animation as he spoke, a posture that implied someone who was always moving, always planning, always looking for a way to improve something.
"Mei," he greeted his sister in a tone that was familiar but also tense. "I heard you summoned this wanderer for a consultation. I thought I should also be present."
He looked at Li Yuan with an assessing expression.
"You must be Mister Li Yuan. I have also heard about you—how you have been speaking with the people, asking wise questions. I would like to hear your opinion on our situation."
"I was just explaining to your sister," Li Yuan said in a calm tone, "that I believe both your visions have merit. The question is whether you are both flexible enough to find a way to integrate the truths from both perspectives."
Prince Tian laughed—a slightly cynical sound.
"Flexible? I am very flexible. But my sister is too attached to the past to see the possibilities of the future."
"And my brother is too enchanted by new things to appreciate the wisdom of what has worked for hundreds of years," Princess Mei retorted in a cold tone.
Li Yuan raised a hand with a calming gesture.
"This is a pattern I have seen countless times. Two people—or two groups—each convinced that they are right, each unwilling to listen to the other. And because of this inability to listen, they lose the opportunity to learn from each other."
He looked between the siblings with eyes that carried a quiet authority.
"Allow me to ask both of you a question: what do you fear will happen if your sibling's vision comes to pass?"
An awkward silence fell over the garden.
Finally, Princess Mei spoke in a softer voice than before.
"I am afraid that if we open up, we will lose what makes us special. That we will become like all the other kingdoms—ruled by greed, compromised by external politics, no longer masters in our own land."
Prince Tian looked at his sister with a surprised expression—he had clearly never heard his sister express fear in such an honest way.
"And you?" Li Yuan turned to Prince Tian. "What do you fear?"
Prince Tian looked out at the kingdom below, his expression becoming more serious.
"I am afraid that if we remain isolated, we will die slowly without realizing it. That the younger generations will leave the kingdom because they see no future here. That one day, a crisis will come—a war, a natural disaster, whatever—and we will have no allies or resources to survive."
Li Yuan nodded with deep understanding.
"So both your fears are valid. Princess Mei fears a loss of identity and independence. Prince Tian fears stagnation and dangerous isolation. And because of these fears, you both hold on to your visions so tightly that you cannot see that the other's vision is also born from a sincere care for the kingdom."
The siblings looked at each other, and for the first time since Li Yuan met them, he heard through his Wenjing Realm a subtle shift—the beginning of a recognition that the other might not just be stubborn or wrong, but genuinely cared about the kingdom's future in a different way.
"So what is the solution?" Princess Mei asked in a more open tone than before.
"The solution," Li Yuan said with simplicity, "is to stop thinking in terms of 'all or nothing.' To understand that you do not have to choose between total isolation or total openness. There is a middle path—a selective and careful openness that maintains independence while allowing for growth."
"What does that look like in practice?" Prince Tian asked with genuine curiosity.
"It looks like opening trade but only with certain partners you trust will not exploit you. It looks like building a better path but maintaining control over who is allowed to use it. It looks like sending some young people to study outside but ensuring they return to share the knowledge. It looks like allowing for some innovation while maintaining the core traditions that make Yunfeng unique."
Li Yuan turned to face both siblings.
"But most importantly, it looks like both of you working together—not as rivals fighting to win, but as co-leaders who combine their perspectives to find a path that neither of you could find alone."
Silence fell over the garden, but now it had a different quality—not the tension of hostility, but serious contemplation.
"Co-leadership," Princess Mei repeated slowly. "We have never done that before in Yunfeng. There has always been one king or queen."
"Perhaps," Li Yuan said in a tone that carried the wisdom of thousands of years, "it is time for a new tradition. A tradition that acknowledges that good leadership requires diverse perspectives, that no one has all the answers, and that true strength comes from the ability to integrate differences rather than destroy them."
Prince Tian and Princess Mei looked at each other, and in that gaze, Li Yuan saw a possibility—not a certainty, but a possibility—that the conflict threatening to tear this kingdom apart could be avoided.
The journey toward a resolution had just begun.