Xiao Chiye scheduled the banquet before the assembly of officials. The invitation that Chen Yang went to deliver was instead received by Ge Qingqing.
“Lanzhou has been busy with duties at court recently, so I came to take this on his behalf,” Ge Qingqing said as he took the invitation. After exchanging polite words with Chen Yang, he continued, “The Forbidden Army is enjoying unprecedented prestige. Deputy Commander Chen must be busy as well?”
“The governor is weighed down daily by paperwork. Those of us attending him can hardly claim to be busy,” Chen Yang replied, sipping his tea. “Ge Qingqing, you’ve benefited from misfortune this time—promoted to office overseer, your future is boundless. That’s true prestige.”
The two spoke cordially, each careful not to reveal discomfort. Recently, there had been friction between the Jinyiwei and the Forbidden Army, causing small disputes—just the right moment for mutual distaste.
After another round of tea, Chen Yang rose to take his leave. Ge Qingqing escorted him to the door, and inside, Shen Zechuan lifted the curtain and stepped out.
“This invitation comes at an inconvenient time,” Ge Qingqing said, handing it to him. “Are you really going?”
“Why not?” Shen Zechuan opened the invitation, noting Xiao Chiye’s bold, vigorous handwriting.
“Xiao Er has already shown intentions of suppressing the Jinyiwei. Our missions have been intercepted by the Forbidden Army one by one, and he is currently favored by the emperor. If he intends to act now…” Ge Qingqing’s voice trailed off.
“What he wants to do couldn’t be clearer,” Shen Zechuan said, closing the invitation. “He wants to subdue the Jinyiwei, turn Qu Dou into a realm under his sole command, and make the emperor dependent on his Forbidden Army. Unsurprisingly, he’ll kick the Jinyiwei again.”
“Exactly. Bringing Uncle Ji to this banquet now would be too risky,” Ge Qingqing said.
Shen Zechuan casually tossed the invitation onto the table. “It concerns Zuo Qianqiu. He won’t set a trap here.”
Ge Qingqing still felt some unease.
Shen Zechuan’s lip wound had healed. Draping his cloak over his shoulders, he said, “I’ll be stepping out for a while.”
Venturing into the snow, Shen Zechuan found it light but windy. He arrived at East Dragon Street and slipped into the Lotus Blossom Tower across from Xiangyun Shop.
Xi Hongxuan had recently written lyrics and set them to music for the women of East Dragon Street to perform—it had become quite the spectacle. Most impressive, he had hollowed out the platform beneath the Lotus Blossom stage, placed a large open bronze basin inside, and covered it with a single layer of wooden boards. He had also purchased a batch of young birds from the west, trained them for several days, and tied small bells to their ankles. As they danced on the platform in wooden clogs, the bells’ chimes merged with the bronze basin, creating an ethereal, enchanting sound.
At that moment, a song he had written was being performed. Xi Hongxuan reclined in a rattan chair on the third floor, holding a folding fan, eyes closed, listening. The maidens, in plain socks, walked silently on the rugs. One knelt outside the beaded curtain, speaking softly: “Second Master, a guest has arrived.”
Xi Hongxuan did not open his eyes, folding his fan.
The maid lifted the curtain for Shen Zechuan to enter.
Inside, Shen Zechuan saw a girl kneeling by Xi Hongxuan’s feet, massaging them.
“Please, Master Shen, have a seat,” Xi Hongxuan said, still lightly tapping rhythm to the song.
The girl knelt and crawled over to help Shen Zechuan remove his shoes. He raised a hand to stop her and sat on a chair.
When the song ended, Xi Hongxuan finally sat, sipping tea, tapping the girl lightly with his fan. “She’s new, clean enough.”
Shen Zechuan did not look at her.
Xi Hongxuan chuckled, observing him. “You’re not really following Xiao Er, are you? Saving yourself for him, staying pure?”
Shen Zechuan’s sideburns were like ink, yet in the warm room, his features seemed distant, almost untouched by the mundane world. “I came to speak as little as possible.”
Xi Hongxuan opened his fan, his stout frame filling the chair. “We are brothers. I see you’ve suffered by Xiao Er’s side. Today, you’re here to enjoy yourself. If anyone’s pitiful, it’s you, Shen Lanzhou. Once, Xiao Er kicked you—gave you a lingering illness. Now you must pretend civility toward him again. Truly, he is your demon star.”
“Exactly,” Shen Zechuan said, unguarded, “that kind of scoundrel.”
“But he doesn’t intend to leave the Jinyiwei any slack,” Xi Hongxuan said. “Lanzhou, no pillow winds have blown in, huh?”
“You’re sentimental,” Shen Zechuan said, taking the hot cloth the girl brought to wipe his hands, glancing up with a smile. The earlier chill upon entering was gone, replaced by his usual calm expression. “Years of thinking about your sister-in-law. One night together, and it weighs on your heart. But Xiao Er and I? Mere fleeting indulgence. Hardly love.”
“So it seems,” Xi Hongxuan said, picking up his chopsticks, “you two are just playing around?”
“Even play has rules,” Shen Zechuan replied. “Rolling in bed serves each one’s needs. Pleasure enjoyed, then it passes. If you think about it every day, it’s no longer pure.”
Xi Hongxuan clasped his hands and laughed. “Good! Good, Lanzhou. I feared you’d let him catch your weakness, forget we are brothers on the same ship. Come, try this dish—wild vegetables rushed from Qinzhou. Even the imperial kitchen lacks these delicacies.”
They sampled a bit.
“Xiao Er,” Xi Hongxuan continued, “is ruthless. I underestimated him before. He revealed his edge at the autumn hunt. Now he can’t hide; he must assert himself. He took command of the Eight Camps but gave key posts only to confidants. None of the Eight Families truly holds power. His face-saving is flawless; no one can find leverage. Isn’t that infuriating, annoying?”
Shen Zechuan saw a dish of cucumber strands untouched, and said, “At the South Forest hunt, Xiao Er gambled on the emperor remembering their bond and letting him go. That hope failed. The six ministries watched him closely. Returning is impossible. He must now ensure military power in Qu Dou. Compared to the Eight Camps—like Liu Ying or Haoyue—the Forbidden Army is useful but not that useful. Having finally gained advantage, he won’t miss any opportunities.”
“Back when the twenty-four government offices still had Pan Rugui, the Eastern Depot could check his arrogance. Now with Pan Rugui dead, the Eastern Depot declines too. In this vast Qu Dou, there’s really no one who can oppose Xiao Ce’an!” Xi Hongxuan ate a bite, then added, “I’m not so favored lately either. The emperor listens to Hai Liangyi, determined to be a flourishing ruler, not so willing to play with me anymore.”
Shen Zechuan finished eating slowly. “A person over twenty, character fixed. If a few words could make them change, nothing in the world would be difficult.”
Xi Hongxuan paused, chopsticks in hand. “You mean…”
“Hai Liangyi is a gentleman among gentlemen,” Shen Zechuan said, setting down his chopsticks. “Clear as water. Place him with the emperor—it’s like water on hot oil, bound to splatter. Xue Xiuzhuo reached this position. Why not push further? The cabinet? He is qualified. The center now lacks talent.”
Xi Hongxuan pondered silently.
Shen Zechuan continued, “Enemies press near. How can the Eight Families stay divided? You are now head of the Xi family. Fortune turns. Opportunity is at hand. Will you let it pass?”
Xi Hongxuan set down his chopsticks, wiping sweat, gazing at Shen Zechuan. “You want me to unite the Eight Families against Xiao Er?”
Shen Zechuan said, “Xiao Er is only one factor. Civil officials are favored, the Academy flourishes. Within a few years, sons of humble families enter office. What happens to the Eight Families used to luxury? If new powers rise, the Eight Families are no longer the ‘Eight Families.’”
Xi Hongxuan said, “Even so… it’s thorny. Not to mention Yao Wenyu will never agree. He’s Hai Liangyi’s direct disciple, traveled all over, befriended countless talents. He won’t join us.”
Shen Zechuan smiled. “The Eight Families—just a name. If the Yao family won’t, another can take its place.”
Xi Hongxuan stopped eating, pacing. After a while, he said, “But how do you make Xiao Er refrain? Protecting the emperor, he won’t ignore this. If only him, I wouldn’t worry. But behind him is the Li Bei cavalry. With Xiao Jiming there, Xiao Ce’an can’t touch him or be harmed—hard to deal with!”
“Xiao Jiming is formidable, but his power is at the frontier,” Shen Zechuan said, leaning back, shadowing his eyes. “Qu Dou is your ground. The proverb goes, a strong dragon can’t overcome a local snake. There are many ways to keep Xiao Er busy.”
Xi Hongxuan sank into thought, not noticing Shen Zechuan had said “your” and not “our.” He asked, “What ways?”
Shen Zechuan smiled faintly. “Xiao Er’s influence depends entirely on the emperor’s trust. Years of brotherhood, drinking days, life-saving debts—he can’t easily be swayed. But bonds are like autumn dew; a day of sun, and they evaporate.”
Xi Hongxuan thought of Ji Lei on that rainy night. The mountain delicacies he had eaten churned in his stomach. He forced a smile. “If you’re so sure, then tell me.”
After Shen Zechuan left, Xi Hongxuan reclined again in his chair, had the table cleared. He struggled to turn over, needing help, and feeling stifled, had the windows opened.
Xue Xiuzhuo emerged from the adjacent room. Xi Hongxuan sighed, “You heard him? Lucky he was born a Shen soldier’s son. If empowered, he’d be harder than Xiao Er.”
“One must employ people properly,” Xue Xiuzhuo said, pouring tea. “No one is without desire. Shen Lanzhou has weaknesses. Once grasped, even the fiercest dog is harmless.”
“Only we haven’t found them yet,” Xi Hongxuan tapped his brow with a fan. “I see him cold toward Xiao Er—clearly flips after the bed. Such a demon, humiliating or praising him won’t work. You can’t even threaten him.”
Xue Xiuzhuo sipped tea, smiling politely. “No rush. Follow his plan. Success or failure is Xiao Er’s fault. He’ll reveal his purpose eventually.”
Shen Zechuan descended, not hurrying to leave. The madam, seeing him as Xi Hongxuan’s guest, fawned: “Sir, why just look? Better to try yourself.”
Shen Zechuan scanned the ornately dressed women. “Any juniors?”
The madam turned to someone behind. “Bring them up—clean-faced, young ones.”
Shen Zechuan sat for a while. Three young attendants entered, all neatly kept.
The madam, clever, knew she couldn’t pick anyone prettier than Shen Zechuan. So she chose delicate boys instead.
When they tried to remove his shoes, he shifted slightly. They knelt, no longer daring.
Shen Zechuan looked out the window, then said after a moment, “Undress.”
The three obeyed, stopping halfway. Shen Zechuan’s gaze rested on their pale shoulders, heart calm as still water. He observed their hands—soft, like girls who had never touched spring waters.
No calluses, no rings.
He sighed, rose, and left without a word, leaving the three attendants bewildered.
Ding Tao followed, scribbling in his notebook. By the time he finished, Shen Zechuan had disappeared into the crowd. He followed cautiously.
Shen Zechuan walked slowly, yet in a blink, vanished.
“Ah!” Ding Tao exclaimed, hurrying forward, only to be blocked by a tall man wearing a straw hat. He sensed martial skill at once.
The street was crowded; Ding Tao refrained from attacking. He swung a fist, only to sense familiarity from the tall man.
Night fell, snow intensified.
The man with the hat led a short distance, then turned into a dead-end alley.
Shen Zechuan stopped behind him, glancing. “Half a month following me—what’s this about?”
The man lowered his hat, laughing. “Perceptive. Already noticed?”
“Your stealth is impressive,” Shen Zechuan said. “Didn’t you teach me tricks? Disappear from prison, evade Qu Dou. You’ve worked hard.”
The man lifted his straw hat, revealing a face streaked with stubble. Qiao Tianya brushed the strand of hair from his forehead and said, “You could have lured me into the tavern—why insist on standing out here to speak?”
“Rabbits aren’t easy to catch,” Shen Zechuan said after a moment’s glance. “Should I call you Qiao Tianya, or should I call you Song Yue?”
“As you wish,” Qiao Tianya replied. “Call me Qiao Tianya, we have some rapport. Call me Song Yue, and you’re addressing your master.”
“Your talents are considerable, Tongzhi. Why submit to my lord so readily?” Shen Zechuan asked.
“Can’t help it,” Qiao Tianya said, laughing wryly. “I owe the Grand Tutor my life. The rest of my days must repay that debt with service.”
“That night at the hunting grounds went smoothly,” Shen Zechuan said. “So it was your assistance that made it possible.”
“I follow you because I watch your eyes,” Qiao Tianya said. “That night you intended to kill King Chu, yet didn’t expect Xiao Er to be so bold, throwing him in front of the Jinyiwei and spinning everyone in circles. But you, clever as you are, managed to turn the situation to your advantage.”
“That’s all the skill I’ve got,” Shen Zechuan said.
Qiao Tianya brushed snow from his shoulder. “From now on, I follow you, Master. If there’s meat, don’t forget to give me some soup—I’m easier to feed than Xiao Er and his guards.”
“Ding Tao is young,” Shen Zechuan tossed him a purse casually. “Chen Yang and Gu Jin are the real tough ones.”
Qiao Tianya pocketed the money. “You’ve read Xiao Er inside out, yet he still remembers the life you saved.”
Shen Zechuan smiled. “You’d rather follow him, then.”
“I’m a loyal bodyguard,” Qiao Tianya said innocently, raising his hands. “If Xiao Er were willing to pay a fortune, I’d gladly risk fire and water for him.”
“Too bad his circle is already full,” Shen Zechuan said. “There’s no room for you.”
“My little master,” Qiao Tianya squinted one eye, “your words sting.”
Shen Zechuan made a mock expression of praise.
“But this line,” Qiao Tianya grinned, “applies to both of us.”
Eight days later, Shen Zechuan and Ji Gang arrived as promised.
Ding Tao had evidently reported ahead; Gu Jin, sober today, stood outside. From a distance, he saw Qiao Tianya following Shen Zechuan.
Ding Tao immediately tiptoed and whispered, “Brother Jin, it’s him. It really is him!”
Chen Yang guided Shen Zechuan and Ji Gang inside. Qiao Tianya was meant to stay outside. Yet unaware, he stepped forward and was blocked by Gu Jin.
“I heard you blocked this kid’s path a few days ago,” Gu Jin said sharply, eyes on the straw hat. “Harassing children—what kind of heroism is that?”
Ding Tao snorted indignantly, mimicking, “What kind of hero!”
Qiao Tianya laughed heartily, flipping off his hat with a cheeky grin. “We’re not here to fight tonight, are we? I’m meeting this little friend for the first time—Brother, wronged me?”
Ding Tao exclaimed, furious: “How dare you say that? I haven’t mistaken anyone!”
Gu Jin restrained Ding Tao and faced Qiao Tianya.
Two men of similar build stood nearly chest to chest.
“Not tonight,” Gu Jin said. “We’ll meet another time.”
“No time,” Qiao Tianya tugged the hair from his forehead, flashing a taunting smile. “After all, I have only one master. How could I have leisure to play with little brothers?”
Gu Jin spat coldly. “Report your name. Plenty of chances to meet later.”
“I’m Qiao Yueyue,” Qiao Tianya said, joining two fingers in a mock salute, “also called Little Song Song,” nodding to Ding Tao.
Chen Yang led Shen Zechuan and Ji Gang further in. The courtyard was deep. Passing the covered corridor and through another gate, they entered a grove of red plum trees. Elegant and serene.
Xiao Chiye stood beneath a tree, waiting. When Shen Zechuan stepped in, their eyes met briefly—too brief for any message to pass—then both looked away.
Xiao Chiye greeted Ji Gang, smiling. “Master braved the snow—my poor welcome. Wine and dishes await. The teacher has waited inside.”
Ji Gang stopped him with a gesture. “Your teacher left the Ji family over twenty years ago. You are now your own master. We are not of the same school, no need for formalities.”
“Same lineage means same school,” Xiao Chiye said. “Today I can blend styles thanks to the Ji family’s martial teachings. I’ve long admired your renown. This courtesy is proper, no matter what.”
He bowed, leading Ji Gang inside, then glanced at Shen Zechuan: “Lanzhou and I haven’t met for some time.”
Shen Zechuan stepped inside, smiling. “Brother now wields great influence. Busy, I imagine?”
“We are of the same school,” Xiao Chiye said evenly. “No matter how busy, I’ll keep time for you.”
“I would be delaying serious business,” Shen Zechuan said. “Recently, my duties are idle. This is already thanks to your attention.”
“Well said,” Xiao Chiye lifted the curtain. “If you wish to work, come to me. I’ll keep the mat ready.”
Hearing “mat,” a twinge ran down Shen Zechuan’s neck—burned still where bitten—making his smile faint.
Zuo Qianqiu wore a slanted-collar robe, white hair in a knot. Neither scholar nor famed general. Older than Ji Gang, yet appearing younger. If one must describe, he exuded a subtle ethereal aura. Rumor said he had left the world; perhaps not baseless.
Zuo Qianqiu turned, seeing Ji Gang.
Ji Gang, in plain cloth with a rough overcoat, face scarred, stared back. Memories surged: boyhood laughter, voices near, yet all before had turned to white hair.
Xiao Chiye broke the silence. “Masters dine inside. Lanzhou and I wait here.”
“Shen’er, fasten your cloak,” Ji Gang said quietly to Shen Zechuan. “If you grow cold, come inside.”
Shen Zechuan nodded.
Zuo Qianqiu said, “Aye, Ye, take good care of your junior.”
Xiao Chiye smiled in reply, and they retreated.
Outside, the chill clear, a rare calm night.
Shen Zechuan descended the steps, noting the deep plum grove, bridges and streams inside. The courtyard elegance felt beyond Xiao Chiye’s usual design.
“This yard was bought with silver from the Yao family,” Xiao Chiye said from behind, moving aside plum branches to reveal a winding stream. “Beautiful—and costly.”
“You are generous,” Shen Zechuan said without turning.
Xiao Chiye nudged him gently with his chest, covered his hair with a hand, leaning close with teasing breath. “Red plum under snow, Lanzhou in fragrance—one smile worth a fortune.”
“Hope you mortgaged your trousers for this,” Shen Zechuan slowly smiled.
“A bit expensive, but Yao Wenyu sold cheaply,” Xiao Chiye said, pausing. “You ran fast; I had to work to catch you.”
“I wasn’t avoiding you,” Shen Zechuan lifted Xiao Chiye’s hand from his hair. “We have matters to discuss.”
Xiao Chiye smiled with a hint of cruelty. “Slept with your Second Master—you deserve some tenderness.”
Shen Zechuan stepped forward, leaving Xiao Chiye’s chest. He studied him silently.
In the plum-clustered night, under the stars, both felt the remnants of that night.
Xiao Chiye realized the one thing that night: only he had been overcome by desire.
“I warned you,” Shen Zechuan said, pressing a finger on a plum branch, seductively, “best not bite the back of the neck.”
“Bed pleasures,” Xiao Chiye smiled mischievously, “cannot be done alone.”
“You and I differ in one thing: desire. You are filled with it, yet conceal your ambition. One bite at the nape is a minor trial. You pull me, resist it, try to conquer it—but you still succumb. But, Ce’an,” Shen Zechuan plucked a plum flower, tore a petal, and placed it in his mouth, “I have no lust. How can you challenge me?”
Xiao Chiye stepped closer, catching Shen Zechuan’s hand plucking the flower. He leaned in, light as the wind, whispering, “One round—what of it? Unsatisfied? Let’s have a few more. Lotus Blossom’s girls you didn’t touch, the officials you dared not. You pretended to be an ascetic, yet that night panting was not me.”
He pressed Shen Zechuan’s hand to his lips, dangerous, teasing.
“I lost to desire,” he said with a smirk, “but if you are so steadfast, why test me? Shen Lanzhou, you fear succumbing to desire even more than I do.”