Before Fang Linyuan could reply, the shopkeeper of Taifeng House had already bent his back, stepped out from behind the counter, and came forward to greet them.

“Ah, General! What an honor for the General to grace us with his presence today—are you here to dine?”

As he spoke, he had already turned his head and called out loudly: “Come on! Escort the General upstairs to his seat!”

Fang Linyuan raised his hand slightly and said, “No need to trouble yourselves, I’ve made an appointment today.”

The shopkeeper quickly glanced at the person beside him.

He recognized the General Fang, who had reserved seats at Taifeng House before. But the man standing beside him—there was no one in the capital who did not recognize the golden beast mask on his face.

“Master Zhu!” The shopkeeper’s smile bloomed wide. “The seat you reserved has already been kept for you. Shall the two of you go upstairs now?”

Fang Linyuan shook his head, then lifted his gaze toward the middle-aged man from earlier.

“No rush,” he said. “Just now outside the door I overheard something—was this gentleman trying to cut the line?”

The middle-aged man, who only moments ago had been so arrogant, now showed surprise, and beneath it, a hint of unease as he turned to look at the shopkeeper.

The shopkeeper lowered his voice and said to him, “This is His Lordship the Marquis of Anping.”

… The Marquis of Anping!

Even if this man was a merchant from outside the capital, how could he not have heard the name of the Marquis of Anping?

That was none other than the husband of the present Son of Heaven!

Remembering his own insolent question just now, the merchant’s legs nearly gave way, and he almost collapsed to the floor.

“M-Marquis…”

His eyes bulged, and only after a long moment did he find his voice again.

But Fang Linyuan, serene as drifting clouds and light wind, asked once more: “Was it you who said she could neither sit for the examinations nor enter the court as an official?”

The middle-aged man stammered, unable to answer.

“I asked you a question.”

At this moment, the white-clad merchant standing beside Fang Linyuan suddenly spoke up.

He stood above the man, expression indifferent, his tone calm but carrying a veiled pressure.

… Bullying others by relying on power!

The middle-aged man knew that this fellow, like himself, was an untitled commoner, but since he stood behind the Marquis of Anping, what could he do…

He clenched his teeth, then after a moment, bent low in a deep bow toward Fang Linyuan. “This lowly one misspoke in a moment’s folly. I beg the Marquis to forgive me this once.”

But Fang Linyuan replied, “Forgive you for what? Since you did not insult me, I cannot accept your plea for pardon.”

The implication in his words was unmistakable.

The merchant had no choice but to turn toward the young woman, bow deeply, and say: “I spoke without thinking. I beg the young lady’s pardon.”

Fang Linyuan said nothing, but the merchant in white behind him slanted a cold glance and said, “Get out.”

Resentful though he was, the merchant had no other choice. He forced a smile, backed away, and left Taifeng House.

The shopkeeper of Taifeng House, ever sharp at reading the room, immediately raised his voice to instruct the cashier: “Quickly, open a guest room for the young lady—may I ask your honorable surname, miss?”

“My surname is Jiang, Jiang Ying,” the young woman replied, her voice clear and cold. She then lifted her head and bowed respectfully toward Fang Linyuan and Zhao Chu. “Just now, I thank the Marquis and Master for helping me out.”

“Jiang Ying?” Fang Linyuan was slightly startled. “Pardon me, miss, but your name sounds familiar.”

“The Jieyuan of Fuzhou?” Zhao Chu spoke from the side. “If I recall, your policy essay was quite fine—wasn’t it about the new southern policy, the Tax Verification Act?”

The young woman looked a little surprised. “How does Master know?”

Fang Linyuan grew anxious, fearing Zhao Chu might give himself away.

But Zhao Chu only smiled faintly and said, “On the day the provincial results were posted, I happened to see your essay. It left some impression.”

Jiang Ying nodded, seemingly harboring no suspicion toward Zhao Chu.

“I just heard you say you intended to stay at Taifeng House only for one day?” Fang Linyuan asked again.

Jiang Ying nodded. “Today at Taixing House there will be a great Confucian scholar from the capital lecturing and discussing the Way. I plan to attend.”

The shopkeeper interjected cheerfully from the side: “Young lady, the poetry gathering here will be held for seven consecutive days.”

Jiang Ying smiled lightly and said calmly, “That won’t be necessary. My purse is shallow, and I haven’t much travel money. I must save enough to stay in the capital until the metropolitan exam.”

As she spoke, she drew silver from her sleeve, counted out the fee for one night’s lodging at Taifeng House, and set it on the counter.

The shopkeeper was just about to reach for it when Fang Linyuan raised his hand to stop him. “In that case, allow me to cover the young lady’s lodging expenses for these days.” Fang Linyuan tilted his head and smiled at Jiang Ying.

Jiang Ying blinked in surprise and immediately refused. “My lord, that is far too generous, I cannot…”

“You already know who I am. When your name is on the Golden List, you may repay me then.” Fang Linyuan said this, then turned his head toward the “Master Zhu” at his side and smiled. “Since even Master Zhu remembers your essay so clearly, I have no doubt you possess great talent. To ascend to high office in court will only be a matter of time.”

Zhao Chu met Fang Linyuan’s gaze.

There he was, smiling slyly—in the middle of a crowded hall, as though exchanging secret signals only the two of them could understand.

Zhao Chu gave a soft laugh, drew out a sachet from his sleeve, and placed it before the shopkeeper.

“The marquis speaks true,” he said. “Today the young lady accepts my aid; when her name one day graces the Golden Roll, it shall count as a fine tale of discerning talent between the marquis and myself.”

*

After finishing their meal at Taifeng Pavilion, Zhao Chu and Fang Linyuan secretly slipped back to Huaiyu Pavilion, so Zhao Chu could change out of his men’s attire.

At present neither of them resided in the Marquis’s residence; Huaiyu Pavilion was left only with a few maidservants Shongyan had arranged to come at intervals to sweep and tidy.

By now the sun was sinking toward the western hills. The vast building stood empty save for the two of them, the only brightness the clear sunlight slanting in through the carved windows, filling the chamber with warmth.

Fang Linyuan sat by the dressing table, watching Zhao Chu change clothes.

Though he did not live here, Zhao Chu had left behind plenty of robes, adornments, and ornaments. When the drawers of the boxes on the table were opened, they shone with golden splendor, dazzling Fang Linyuan with curiosity.

Unable to resist, he let his hand wander among the trinkets, setting them clinking as he inquired about one after another

Picking up a gold comb inlaid with a ruby, Fang Linyuan clicked his tongue in amazement: “How can a comb be stuck into one’s hair? Wouldn’t that hurt terribly?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Zhao Chu replied while putting away the jade pendant at his waist.

“Really?” Fang Linyuan said. “You’re lying to me again.”

Zhao Chu raised his eyes to glance at him sidelong.

At that moment, the gentle sunlight streamed in from the window, catching Zhao Chu’s faint smile. He took the comb from Fang Linyuan’s hand, lifted it, and with one motion slid it into Fang Linyuan’s hair.

“Does it hurt?” Zhao Chu asked.

Fang Linyuan gave an exaggerated cry, feeling the weight press down on his head, and turned toward the mirror.

There he saw his hair glittering with the comb, its teeth buried in his locks, leaving only the golden crescent-shaped ornament gleaming like a sliver of moonlight in his hair.

Fang Linyuan froze, then burst into laughter. “How strange it looks!” he said, laughing.

He had no idea that, under the glow of the evening haze, as he threw back his head in laughter, the gold and jade in his hair reflected dazzling brilliance throughout the chamber.

And his eyes—like vessels filled with the setting sun, shattered by his lashes into rippling waves—were the very image of a youth in full vigor, crowned with blossoms, brimming with spirit.

Zhao Chu’s gaze could no longer turn away. “A few more ornaments, and it will not seem strange.”

His voice was hoarse, and the words slipped out as if beyond his own will.

Fang Linyuan, caught up in his own play, failed to notice the change in him. Hearing this, he reached straight into the box again, snatching hairpins and pendants at random, sticking them crookedly into his own hair.

“Really?” he asked as he clumsily set them in place.

But never having worn them before, and with his hair bound in a man’s topknot, they sat unevenly, making him shake his head at the sight.

“Isn’t it said in the capital that a handsome man should have a face like a fair lady?” he asked. “Why is it that when I wear them, it isn’t the case at all?”

He turned to Zhao Chu, only to find Zhao Chu gazing at him in silence.

Zhao Chu, adorned in white with a jade coronet, looked clear and luminous as the moon, while behind him hung a blaze of embroidered skirts and robes.

Perhaps it was only that his martial attire did not suit the ornaments?

With mischief sparking, Fang Linyuan laughed, stood, and pulled one of the embroidered robes over himself.

The long, shimmering brocade gleamed with brilliance as he twirled twice before the mirror, his hair weighed down with slanted pins.

But Zhao Chu seemed humorless, letting him play without joining his laughter.

So, halfway through a spin, Fang Linyuan turned back to him before his robe hem had settled and asked with a smile: “Does this look good? Husband?” he teased, pretending to play.

For some reason, Zhao Chu suddenly stood.

Fang Linyuan quickly gathered up the too-wide sleeves, about to speak, when Zhao Chu stepped before him and, robe and all, swept him up in his arms.

“Ah—”

“It looks good,” Zhao Chu murmured, carrying him straight into the bed-curtained alcove.

Fang Linyuan panicked.

“Zhao Chu?” he said hastily. “The sky isn’t even dark yet, you—”

But this time Zhao Chu did not even draw the bed curtains closed. The warm sunset poured unrestrained across the brocaded bedding, pouring also over Zhao Chu’s back.

“It doesn’t matter,” Zhao Chu said.

Fang Linyuan, with no way to resist, hurriedly raised a hand in his fluster, trying at least to pluck out the clattering pins from his hair.

But Zhao Chu caught his wrist. “Don’t take them out,” he said. “Keep them on.”

…What kind of request was that!

Yet within the canopy of the bed, Fang Linyuan never could withstand Zhao Chu’s persistence and entanglement.

After several rounds of kisses and embraces, what principles could he hold to?

So it was that, even when his boots and robes were cast aside, even when beneath Zhao Chu’s white garments pressed nothing but his own bare strength, Fang Linyuan did not resist as Zhao Chu wrapped him in the embroidered hibiscus robe.

With no underlayers and its lapels left loose, the robe hung carelessly from shoulders hard and taut as spears, entirely unfit for form or propriety.

But amid the surging waves and falling plum blossoms on snow, what propriety remained?

Only the silver spear bound with red silk and golden combs, tossing with the storm winds and drifting clouds, sinking deep into the sand below.

 

Translator : DarNan