Pan Xiangjie was suspended from office pending investigation and had been struck with the rod, lying at home in a state of groaning and gloom while nursing his injuries. His son, Pan Lin, was also affected—facing harsh rebukes from the censors at court each day—and after several days was likewise suspended from office, confined at home with no opportunity to step outside.
Xiao Chiye hosted a banquet upon his elevation in rank, specifically inviting He Lianhou. He Lianhou, embarrassed over the recent matter with Princess Zhaoyue’s proposed marriage, feared that Xiao Chiye, now thriving in his power, would publicly humiliate him. After much consideration, he decided to send his son instead.
The young marquis, Fei Shi, was also a well-known figure along East Dragon Street. He had once drunk with Xiao Chiye, but these small-time bullies were no match for Xiao Chiye’s authority, and, wary of the Xiao family, had never truly mingled with him. Now, tasked with attending Xiao Chiye’s banquet, Fei Shi felt half intimidated and went to the Pan residence, summoning Pan Lin to accompany him.
“Come with me, we’ll just go enjoy ourselves!” Fei Shi said, tugging at Pan Lin’s robes. “Tonight’s banquet is on the Kai Ling River—there will be plenty of people.”
Pan Lin’s son had just reached one month old. Playing with him for a moment, Pan Lin said, “I’m not going. I’ve been troubled these past few days.”
“What fun is there in a baby?” Fei Shi pushed past the nanny and said, “You have to go. My father specifically instructed it. Go and make a friend; I hear he has connections with Censor Cen Yu—if he speaks for you, you’ll be spared some punishment.”
Pan Lin frowned, tossing his handkerchief. “You say it’s Cen Yu who scolds the harshest! Xiao Er only got his rank through connections with the emperor; how could he influence Cen Yu? I’m not going—I don’t want to embarrass myself!”
“You really don’t know how to be flexible!” Fei Shi coaxed. “He has a brotherly bond with the emperor. If he can speak up for your family, why resist? Come on, I’ll introduce you myself!”
Unable to refuse, Pan Lin was dragged out, and the carriage carried them straight to the Kai Ling River.
That evening, Xiao Chiye’s banquet was in full swing. The decorated boats on the river were packed. Now widely renowned, every riverside brothel and tavern sought to curry favor with him, offering money like pouring water.
But he knew better than to accept. Those who give, expect something in return. He would not accept any gifts; the entire lavish event was funded by himself.
Chen Yang was fumbling with the abacus, increasingly tangled, until he finally threw it aside and told Ding Tao and Gu Jin, “With the land and houses awarded by the palace, if we sort them out and pick an auspicious day, we could sell them.”
Xiao Chiye, having just finished changing into his ceremonial robes, looked startled. He touched his belt and muttered, “Am I really this broke?”
“Spring expenses are high,” Chen Yang said, holding onto the table, feeling lightheaded. “The estates outside are self-sufficient and can pay some tribute, but many in the capital are palace-awarded and can’t be rented out. Plus, daily upkeep is needed. Our main residences—the prince’s mansion and Mei House—have at least three hundred attendants. Salaries, bonuses, and…”
“And Ding Tao’s sugar,” Xiao Chiye interrupted, smirking. “You probably consume enough to feed a frontier scout team for a year. Spoiled.”
Ding Tao grumbled softly, “This was permitted by the princess when I was at home…”
“You’ve grown up,” Xiao Chiye said coldly. “No more sugar for you—bad for your teeth.”
“Tonight’s expenses, let’s not count for now,” Chen Yang said, leaning on the table. “I’ll tally them in the morning.”
“Running a household,” Gu Jin said succinctly, “one must spend grandly.”
Xiao Chiye strode forward, then returned. “Now we count! A few thousand taels at most. Someone has to manage the accounts.”
Gu Jin asked, “Who? Who in the mansion can manage the second master’s spending?”
Chen Yang hesitated, fingering the abacus. Ding Tao quietly said, “I know who it is.”
Few officials were invited—those above the fourth rank risked censure from the Censorate for private banquets. Xiao Chiye also oversaw the Imperial Guards and could not invite military commanders he collaborated with. Previously, when Cen Yu held a banquet, it was also private; he first submitted a note to the cabinet, and only after Hai Liangyi approved did guests attend. Kong Qiu, too, was censured for drunkenness.
Censors could reprimand the emperor and officials alike. Hai Liangyi, even with minor lapses, faced consequences. For instance, shortly after Emperor Li Jianheng ascended, he complained about the hard dragon chair; within days, he received gentle reprimands from the censors and dared not mention cushions again.
Xiao Chiye could not invite “powerful” officials but could invite “wealthy”—and the very wealthy. Those with hereditary titles but no real authority were safe to entertain. Fei Shi’s family was still prosperous, his sister soon marrying into the Han family, free from financial worries and leisure-bound.
The young marquis disembarked and immediately dragged Pan Lin to meet Xiao Chiye.
“Your Grace, congratulations!”
Xiao Chiye smiled. “Young Marquis, your presence honors the evening.”
Fei Shi relaxed, saying, “Your Grace is generous—tonight, we won’t leave sober!”
Xiao Chiye looked at Pan Lin. “Censor Pan, may I inquire after your father’s health?”
Pan Lin, relieved by the casual tone, replied with a proper bow, “Thanks to Your Grace’s concern, my father is well. He feels indebted to the emperor’s grace and has been in quiet reflection these days.”
Xiao Chiye sighed. “Your father has served three reigns, diligent and cautious. It is a pity he should face such misfortune.”
Pan Lin, having suffered setbacks and begged for mitigation, was touched by Xiao Chiye’s words.
“My father…” he felt emotion rising, yet remained courteous. “I am here only to celebrate Your Grace’s good fortune. Congratulations, Your Grace!”
Xiao Chiye waved it off. “I merely enjoy imperial favor, doing the grunt work, unlike a minister constantly worrying for the state. Chen Yang,” he said sideways, “show the young marquis and Censor Pan to their seats and attend to them.”
Chen Yang led them inside. The boat was draped with curtains, and the soft plucking of a pipa floated into the night. The seating was arranged by status; Chen Yang guided them to the upper seats, occupied by the sons of noble families.
Pan Lin saw familiar faces but did not greet them. Fei Shi, noticing the awkward atmosphere, quickly tried to mediate. “Isn’t this Brother Xue? Good to see you!”
Xue Xiuyi, elder brother of Xue Xiuzhuo, had no talent and no mind, but used his noble status to surpass Xue Xiuzhuo. Observing the Pan family’s decline, he looked down on Pan Lin.
Xue Xiuyi, drinking lightly, said, “Young Marquis, I hope all is well?”
Fei Shi fanned himself. “I’m fine. Master Xue, what keeps you busy? Out enjoying yourself?”
Xue Xiuyi, arrogantly, said, “Studying rare texts from past dynasties at home. Busy.”
Fei Shi laughed. “Such a scholar—how do you have time for this tonight?”
Xue Xiuyi kept his gaze aside, ignoring Pan Lin. “I heard Yao Wenyu returned to the capital. I thought I might see him tonight and discuss some matters.”
Pan Lin, already holding back, coldly said, “Not necessarily. Those seeking instruction from Yuan Zhuo have been lined up at Hongyan Mountain. Even if you wait here, it’s of no use—you won’t get a turn!”
Xue Xiuyi hated being called ignorant. Slamming down his cup, he sneered, “Very well, I am unworthy, but I have some self-awareness. I know my limits. Do I deserve this seat or not?”
Pan Lin suddenly rose.
Xue Xiuyi, sharp-tongued, taunted, “Sit, Chengzhi. Are there nails on this chair? Everyone’s watching. Tonight, your family is most glorious—far more than when your child was born!”
Pan Lin’s first wife had died. Several concubines had miscarried. Approaching his thirties without a son, the matriarch prayed and sought remedies, yet gossip claimed Pan Lin had a hidden defect.
Fury surged. Trembling, Pan Lin pointed at Xue Xiuyi, sputtering, “You—you…what kind of thing are you! Let a bastard manage affairs—you are as foolish as a pig!”
Xue Xiuyi slammed the table, shouting, “Silence! You insult scholarship! Nonsense!”
“I’d rather you were pig or dog!”
Fei Shi, holding a teacup, was splashed with spit, shouting, “Stop! Big brother, Chengzhi, don’t fight! This is a fine banquet—”
Xue Xiuyi said, “Do not seat me with him. He is unworthy! He doesn’t even deserve to tie my shoes!”
Pan Lin, spotting a teacup, threw it. Out of options, he kicked off his shoes and began striking Xue Xiuyi’s face.
“I am teaching you on behalf of Old Madam Xue! You mouthy, deserving to be struck!”
The surrounding crowd erupted. Fei Shi dodged the shoes, shouting, “Stop! Stop! Someone come!”
Xue Xiuyi, continually struck, covering his face, tried to kick back, shouting, “Not over! This isn’t over!”
Pan Lin, realizing the chaos, avoided the gaze of all and firmly said, “I, Pan Chengzhi, even if starving, will never sit with you, Xue Xiuyi! My Pan family, even if gone, will never seek your Xue family for a favor!”
He threw down his other shoe, stepping over the wreckage, and turned to leave, ignoring Fei Shi.
“Censor, wait,” Xiao Chiye said calmly. “Chen Yang, take him to change his clothes.”
Fei Shi hurriedly agreed. “Yes, Chengzhi! Change your clothes first!”
Pan Lin, still a noble scion and a registered official, spoke boldly, but being paraded through the streets was worse than dying. He was led away by Chen Yang and Fei Shi.
“Master,” Xiao Chiye beckoned Gu Jin, “you should invite him too.”