Shen Liufeng did not have many hobbies. His one true weakness was a good drink.
Jun Huailang had an excellent tolerance for alcohol and could always drink to Shen Liufeng’s heart’s content. Once Shen Liufeng discovered this, he grew even fonder of spending time with him. Whenever the academy was on break and Jun Huailang had nothing else to do, Shen Liufeng would pester him to come out and drink with him.
After a while, Jun Huailang grew accustomed to it as well.
The carriage rocked gently along the road, and before long they arrived at one of the restaurants Shen Liufeng frequented. It was already close to noon, and the restaurant was bustling. Even from outside, they could faintly hear the sounds of pingtan being performed inside.
The clear, melodious Wu dialect, accompanied by the plucked notes of a pipa like falling pearls, drifted faintly through the wooden windows of the restaurant, blending into the lively bustle of the streets.
“That voice sounds like Su Xiaoqian.” As soon as he stepped down from the carriage, Shen Liufeng said to Jun Huailang, “She’s especially good at pingtan. You’re in for a treat today.”
Jun Huailang was surprised. “You can tell who’s singing just by the voice?”
With a snap, Shen Liufeng opened his folding fan. “Of course. There are plenty of people singing pingtan in Jinling, but there aren’t many with a voice this clear and bright.”
The two of them entered the restaurant. Waving his fan, Shen Liufeng continued gossiping with Jun Huailang.
“That little girl came here to sing pingtan when she was only fourteen or fifteen. I heard her grandmother fell ill back then, and her family couldn’t afford the medical expenses, so she came here to earn money by singing. But her circumstances seem to have improved over the past two years, so she doesn’t come as often anymore. I come here to drink so often that she’s spoiled my ears. After listening to her, I can hardly get used to anyone else’s singing.”
Jun Huailang had not heard much pingtan himself. He had only heard that in the taverns and teahouses of the south, storytelling was not usually done by simply speaking. Their stories were performed through music and song.
The two were regular customers, so as soon as they entered the restaurant, the waiter led them upstairs to an excellent table beside the railing, with a clear view of the stage below.
After sitting down, Jun Huailang looked over the railing.
On the stage below sat a young woman of seventeen or eighteen. Her long hair was coiled into a bun, and she wore an apricot-colored spring jacket with overlapping lapels. A pipa rested in her arms.
She was a beautiful girl, possessing the delicate, understated elegance characteristic of women from Jiangnan. She was also an excellent pipa player. Although Jun Huailang could not understand the lyrics she sang, he could still tell that she had considerable skill and a remarkably beautiful voice.
After ordering their food and wine, Shen Liufeng did not forget to instruct the waiter, “As usual, give Miss Xiaoqian three strings of cash as a tip. Put it on my bill.”
Jun Huailang was surprised. “Three strings of cash? That’s not like you, Young Master Shen.”
Shen Liufeng sighed. “Naturally, it’s not like me. It’s so rare to hear her sing that I wish I could empty my entire purse and give it all to her.”
As he spoke, Shen Liufeng poured Jun Huailang a cup of tea.
“But the girl simply refuses. She has a rule. She only accepts tips of three strings of cash or less. Anything more, she returns.”
Jun Huailang was puzzled. “What kind of rule is that? Her family was poor. Why would she refuse money?”
“If she were a man, she naturally wouldn’t need to refuse it.”
Jun Huailang understood.
The girl was strikingly beautiful, and her profession involved playing music and singing. Spending every day in teahouses and wine shops naturally attracted the attention of men. If she accepted everything offered to her and took excessive amounts of silver from patrons, it would inevitably lead to people treating her as something they could put a price on, turning her into someone’s plaything.
“She certainly has foresight,” Jun Huailang remarked.
“Exactly!” Shen Liufeng said, resting his chin on his hand with a proud smile, as though her virtue reflected well upon him. “Miss Xiaoqian isn’t only an excellent singer. She’s a woman of great integrity, too. My admiration for her isn’t misplaced.”
Jun Huailang smiled as well and quietly listened alongside him.
The girl was performing Yingying Plays the Qin, a piece full of tender longing and romantic emotion. Jun Huailang had spent a year in Jiangnan and naturally knew that customs here were relatively open. Plays and songs celebrating love and romance could be performed openly.
In Chang’an, such a performance would certainly be regarded as an obscene or lascivious song. Even if someone dared to sing it in the street, people might not dare to stop and listen.
Before long, their wine and dishes arrived.
The wine was peach-blossom brew made in spring. It was sweet and refreshing, carrying a delicate fragrance of peach blossoms. The late-spring breeze drifted gently through the window, warm and soft, and was almost more intoxicating than the wine itself.
Just then, a loud clang rang out from below, abruptly cutting through the clear notes of the pipa.
Jun Huailang was startled and looked down.
A richly dressed young man was standing beside one of the tables. He had actually thrown a handful of silver at Su Xiaoqian’s feet.
“I give you money and you still refuse it? You’re nothing but a woman who sings filthy songs. Who do you think you are, putting on airs?”
The moment Jun Huailang heard the northern accent, he frowned and narrowed his eyes, studying the man’s face carefully.
He did not recognize him, but judging from the way he spoke, he sounded like someone from the Chang’an area.
For a moment, the entire restaurant erupted into an uproar.
One of the waiters stepped forward to persuade him, only to be shoved aside.
“If you’re selling your looks here, at least name a price. You take people’s money and still refuse it? Playing the whore while pretending to be a virtuous woman?”
The young man’s insults became increasingly vile, and even the other patrons began making displeased noises.
Hearing this, Shen Liufeng immediately shot to his feet.
“What kind of bastard is running his mouth like that?” He shoved his chair aside and was about to go downstairs to confront the man.
But the restaurant owner hurried over at once.
“Wait.” Jun Huailang raised a hand to stop him. “Let’s see how the owner handles it first. Don’t make things worse and cause trouble for the establishment.”
Shen Liufeng had no choice but to stop.
Fortunately, the restaurant’s owner remained composed. He immediately called over several waiters and servants and persuaded the young man into a private room. Before long, they had brought him wine and food and managed to calm him down.
The silver scattered on the stage was also picked up and returned to him. Not long afterward, the young woman resumed playing and singing.
The restaurant settled back into peace, but Shen Liufeng’s enjoyment of the performance had been ruined.
“Filthy songs? Who does this bastard think he’s insulting?” He slammed his wine cup down on the table angrily. “Who hasn’t grown up listening to pingtan? How is it that only in his eyes has it become a filthy song?”
Jun Huailang poured him a cup of tea and comforted him with a faint smile.
“His mind is filthy, so naturally everything he sees looks dirty to him.”
“Exactly!” Shen Liufeng said. “It’s not that the song was filthy. It’s that the man himself is a lecher!”
He was furious and his insults were merciless. Jun Huailang did not stop him, simply letting him vent.
But with his mood ruined, Shen Liufeng could no longer enjoy the wine either. Before long, he and Jun Huailang got up and left.
After settling the bill, the two walked straight out of the restaurant.
“Does he think he’s the only one with silver?” Shen Liufeng was still muttering angrily as they approached the door. “I wish I could smash his head in with silver and show him that he’s not the only person with a little dirty money!”
Jun Huailang gently tried to calm him down.
But the moment they stepped outside, he saw a familiar figure approaching the restaurant.
“Lord Guo?” Jun Huailang called.
The man was Guo Rongwen, an old friend of his father’s from the imperial examination they had taken together years ago. He currently served in the Ministry of Revenue. This time, he had come down to Jiangnan with Jun Huailang’s father specifically to inspect the accounts of the various prefectures and offices throughout the region.
Seeing Jun Huailang, Guo Rongwen stopped and greeted him with a smile.
“So it’s His Highness the Heir! What a coincidence. You came here for a drink too?”
Jun Huailang nodded.
“The weather is good today, so I came out for a walk with Young Master Shen. What about you, Lord Guo…?”
Over the past year, Jun Huailang had worked alongside his father and had naturally come into contact with Guo Rongwen as well. He was a mild-tempered and easygoing man. Because of his close relationship with Jun Huailang’s father, he would often teach Jun Huailang whenever there was something he did not understand.
After spending so much time together, even someone as reserved as Jun Huailang could exchange a few words of casual conversation with him whenever they met.
Guo Rongwen nodded.
“I’ve come to meet an old friend from out of town. The food and wine here are quite distinctive, so we arranged to meet here.”
Jun Huailang nodded. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, the two went their separate ways.
—
That evening, Jun Huailang received a letter from home.
It was a thick bundle. As soon as he opened it, several loose sheets of paper slipped out. Jun Huailang lit a lamp and gathered them together, only to find several crooked drawings among them. At a glance, it was obvious that they had been drawn by Jun Linghuan.
He could not help smiling. The candlelight reflected in his dark eyes, making them look especially gentle.
He carefully looked through each of the drawings.
They were all flowers and birds, presumably things Jun Linghuan had only recently learned to draw. She had little talent for embroidery, and apparently no more for painting. The flowers and birds were all crooked and wobbly, and at first glance there was hardly any difference between them.
Yet Jun Huailang examined every single one with great seriousness.
On the final sheet was a line of childish handwriting.
“Big Brother, it has been a whole year since I last saw you. Huan’er misses you very much. Second Brother said that at the beginning of a letter, you should write ‘May this letter find you well.’ But I thought that wasn’t enough, so I drew a few more pictures. I hope that when Big Brother sees these little birds, it will be like seeing Huan’er.”
“When you see these little birds, it’s like seeing Huan’er…”
Under the lamplight, Jun Huailang smiled and softly repeated the words.
Then he carefully put away the crooked drawings as though they were precious treasures.
He pulled open a drawer.
Inside was already a thick stack.
His mother’s letters were usually sent to his father. The letters kept here were the ones sent by his younger brother and sister.
He placed the drawings inside the drawer, then picked up the letter sent by Jun Xiaowu.
Jun Xiaowu was usually very talkative, and his letters were no different. But he had little patience, so his handwriting was always terribly hurried. At first glance, it looked like dragons and phoenixes flying across the page, twisting and turning like incomprehensible scribbles.
Jun Huailang slowly began to read.
Jun Xiaowu had written about nothing but everyday matters at home, filling several pages with rambling details.
He wrote about the new things his little sister had recently learned, some gossip he had heard around Chang’an a few days earlier, and how the weather had suddenly turned cold again in Chang’an. The melted snow had frozen into ice all over the ground, and one of the young servants in the courtyard had slipped and fallen, leaving him bedridden for several days.
When he reached the end of the letter, Jun Huailang’s gaze paused.
He had seen a familiar name.
“…A few days ago, I went out with several young masters from prominent families. I heard them say that the Fifth Prince in Aunt’s palace is doing extremely well these days. He has served in all six ministries in turn, and everyone says that he will become Emperor someday.
“But they also say that His Highness the Fifth Prince doesn’t seem to have a very good character and is extremely ruthless. He commands the Embroidered Uniform Guard, and all the officials in court are afraid he’ll find fault with them. But he keeps looking for trouble anyway, and His Majesty always takes his side. They all say that perhaps this man really is some kind of calamity star, and that he has even bewitched the Emperor.
“Big Brother, burn this letter after you read it. Don’t let anyone see it, no matter what. They say the Fifth Prince has people everywhere. If he finds out, I’m afraid he’ll come after you.”
Jun Huailang did not realize that he had read those few short lines several times.
Only after he slowly lowered the letter did he come back to himself.
Only then did he realize that it had been a very long time since he had received any news about Xue Yan.
Ever since arriving in Jiangnan, he had kept himself constantly occupied, his mind wound tight with one task after another. Only recently had things eased somewhat.
But he knew that this was merely the calm before the storm.
Thinking back, it seemed that this year had passed extraordinarily quickly, as though he had only left Chang’an a few days ago.
Yet he and Xue Yan really had lost contact.
Back when they were in the palace, the two of them saw each other every day. After all, they lived in the same palace compound and attended lessons together every day.
But once they had left the palace, the connection between them seemed to have been severed.
Until he suddenly received news of Xue Yan, that was.
It felt almost like a lifetime had passed. Jun Huailang sat before his desk, stunned for a long while.
After a moment, he slowly picked up his brush, spread out a sheet of paper, and prepared to write a reply to his younger siblings.
But after dipping the brush in ink, his hand stopped.
Without warning, an uncontrollable thought surfaced in his mind.
What was Xue Yan doing right now?