Xie Yilu jolted awake, as though someone had stomped hard on him in the darkness, or as though a breath had been crushed against his chest and he had failed to catch it properly. With the burning sting of alcohol in his throat, he opened his eyes to a mess of cups and plates. The bowl of slippery noodles in clear broth he had asked for before passing out drunk was already cold when he reached out and touched it.
He covered his mouth and dry-heaved twice.
“Crack.”
A crisp sound came from his right.
“Crack.”
Then another.
Someone was cracking melon seeds.
“Oh my, Lord Liu…”
From diagonally across him came the giggling voice of a boy deliberately pitching his voice high, sweet, lazy, sometimes quick and sometimes slow, carrying a distinctly wanton undertone.
Xie Yilu glanced to the right. In the gray, hazy light of dawn, beneath the nearly extinguished candlelight, he saw a lotus-root-like arm wearing a gold bracelet. Above it was a palm-sized, powdered face, with hair arranged in a flower-like style and a huge white peony tucked into it, so large that it had pressed the hair bun askew.
He looked at the other person, and the other person turned to look at him as well.
Those large, watery eyes, willow-slim brows, and thin lips coated in rouge moved slightly, revealing a hint of a smile.
“You’re awake?”
The tone was not particularly respectful, but there was a familiar intimacy in it.
Xie Yilu nodded slightly. “What time is it?”
“It’s probably almost the fifth watch.”
The boy dressed as a woman spoke unhurriedly in a half-southern, half-northern Nanjing accent, cracking melon seeds crisply as he spoke.
“Master Bu-tang already went back.”
Fourteen or fifteen? Xie Yilu guessed.
He was precisely at the age of youthful vigor, yet here he was in red scarves and green sleeves, pouring wine for men.
“We should disperse.”
“Disperse?”
The boy looked as though he had heard a joke, his brow arching high.
“I know these people from the Ministry of War. If they can disperse at this hour tomorrow, that would already be considered fast.”
Xie Yilu followed the direction of his slightly raised little finger and looked over the banquet table.
Everything was crooked and toppled over. Of the one or two people who were still awake, some were holding little singing girls in their arms and fawning over them. Their collars had been undone, and they leaned close, cheek to cheek, calling them “sweetheart” with every other breath.
“Is there any water?”
Xie Yilu turned his face away.
The boy opened his hand, letting a small handful of black melon seeds fall onto the edge of the table.
“Oh? You came out to have fun. There’s wine, but no water.”
He straightened and looked Xie Yilu over curiously.
“They say you were demoted here from Beijing.”
Xie Yilu had no interest in making conversation with him.
“Wine is fine too.”
“Did you offend someone?”
The boy picked up the wine pot, poured two shallow cups, and placed them a little farther away.
“Let’s play a round. If you win, I’ll feed you a drink.”
Xie Yilu became somewhat annoyed and got up to reach for the wine. Taking advantage of the moment, the boy leaned into the crook of his arm, hanging his entire weight on him.
This was what people commonly called a romantic debt, but Xie Yilu could not afford to indulge in it.
He had only just arrived and did not want to cause trouble in a pleasure house, so he asked neither warmly nor coldly, “What are we playing?”
“Nanjing fist. You don’t know how.”
The boy had clearly noticed his displeasure, yet pretended not to. He leaned against him as pliantly as though he had no bones.
Afraid he would not be able to hold him up, Xie Yilu turned his hand over.
The moment he did, the boy boldly rested his head in his palm, rubbing back and forth against him with his fluffy hair and soft cheeks.
“But I don’t know Beijing fist…”
He stared at Xie Yilu with a pair of scorching eyes, making Xie Yilu somewhat flustered.
“I, Xie, am merely a sixth-rank secretary. Why must you… pester me?”
The boy said softly, “I think you’re handsome. Is that not allowed?”
Xie Yilu’s face instantly flushed.
Officials in Beijing also attended social gatherings, and little singing girls were also summoned at banquets. But the singing girls in Lianzi Alley were not this bold.
One could call him uninhibited, but in truth he was brazen. One could call him brazen, yet somehow he was not annoying.
“You’ve overstepped your bounds!”
The boy burst into a giggle.
“Good big brother.”
He followed Xie Yilu’s stiff arm upward, pressing himself closer.
“Nanjing is a place where gold is spent like water. There’s no reason, no rules.”
He drew closer and closer, nearly touching the corner of Xie Yilu’s mouth.
“There are only four words that work here.”
He paused, then lowered his voice and blew warm breath toward Xie Yilu’s lips.
“Wine, women, wealth, and temper…”
This face was delicate and clever, no less beautiful than a pampered beauty.
Xie Yilu froze for a moment, then stiffly pulled his hand away. He staggered to his feet, knocking the chair aside as he walked toward the door.
The carved door was tightly shut.
He raised his hand and pushed it open.
The chilly wind of early spring rushed straight into his face.
The crescent moon still hung from the corner of the eaves. The plane trees gave off the cooing calls of birds.
Xie Yilu pushed the door firmly shut behind him. Then, turning his head, he saw a solitary figure sitting beneath the corridor to his left.
Slender and upright.
He recognized him after a closer look.
“Lord Qu?”
The figure stood.
His round-collared robe swayed gently in the breeze.
“Lord Xie.”
The man held a fan and slowly walked out from beneath the dark, secluded corridor.
Moonlight first illuminated the brand-new plain silver belt around his waist, then the fully embroidered sixth-rank egret insignia on his chest, and finally a youthful, spirited face.
Qu Feng, courtesy name Simu.
He had been transferred to the Nanjing Ministry of War together with Xie Yilu this time, and he was also a sixth-rank secretary.
“Just woke up?”
The two were not familiar with each other. They had spoken for the first time at the welcoming banquet just now.
Yet Qu Feng was now speaking to him in plain speech.
Xie Yilu was somewhat surprised, but did not bother with formalities.
“I don’t hold my liquor well.”
Qu Feng smiled brightly, revealing two little canine teeth, one on each side, making him look rather childish.
“Practice. Nanjing is not like Beijing. The ability to hold your liquor is the first thing you need to show.”
A gust of western wind swept over, blowing thick clouds across the moon. Pine branches rustled.
Perhaps because he had been drinking, Xie Yilu was casual to the point of recklessness.
“Why aren’t you sitting inside?”
Qu Feng did not mind at all. He simply pursed his lips and rolled his eyes.
“In there…”
He rolled his eyes upward.
“I can’t stand staying there.”
They seemed to be the same sort of person.
Xie Yilu took one step forward and stood beside him.
“Judging by your accent, are you a local?”
“From Yingtian Prefecture. I used to be in the Ministry of Rites, a secretary in the Office of Sacrifices. This time, you could say it’s a lateral transfer.”
There was a certain habitual air about him.
After only a few exchanges, Xie Yilu could already sense it—a naturally carefree, aristocratic young master’s bearing.
“Moving from the Ministry of Rites to the Ministry of War counts as moving up.”
Qu Feng’s eyes were very beautiful, narrow and long, with their outer corners slightly raised.
With those eyes, he gave Xie Yilu a light glance.
“Going from the Beijing Censorate to the Nanjing Ministry of War, Brother Xie, you’re the one moving down.”
Xie Yilu said nothing.
“I heard you offended a powerful eunuch?”
Xie Yilu raised his left index finger and pointed toward the sky.
“I offended the ‘Old Ancestor,’ the seal-holding eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial.”
Qu Feng became interested. Despite the early-spring weather, he snapped open his folding fan.
“What happened?”
“I was from the Jia-Shen examination cohort. He personally selected that cohort. Everyone else went to offer their thanks. I didn’t.”
Qu Feng raised one eyebrow in great admiration. His gaze shone like stars as he looked over.
“Courageous.”
Xie Yilu hurriedly waved his hand.
“I can’t compare with you Nanjing people. Even the little singing girl serving wine was so utterly audacious.”
“The one inside?”
Qu Feng looked puzzled, pointing at the carved door with the handle of his fan.
“Which one?”
After thinking for a moment, he suddenly understood.
“You mean the one wearing the peony flower?”
Xie Yilu had not expected him to guess correctly at once.
As for Qu Feng, he suddenly changed from his earlier carefree boldness. He cautiously lowered his voice.
“That one is no ordinary singing girl. There’s someone surnamed Zheng backing him.”
Xie Yilu leaned closer.
“Which Zheng?”
Qu Feng suddenly grabbed his hand.
His five fingers were cold, as though they had grasped Xie Yilu right in the heart.
“The places in the world with the most eunuchs are Beijing and Nanjing. Beijing needs no explanation. In Nanjing…”
As he spoke, he pulled Xie Yilu farther away.
“There are two great eunuchs. One is the fourth-rank eunuch in charge of the Imperial Weaving Bureau, Liao Jixiang. The other is the crown of Nanjing—the Regional Guard Eunuch, Zheng Xian.”
For no reason he could explain, Xie Yilu suddenly broke out in a layer of cold sweat.
“You know that singing girl, Guo Xiaozhuo? He is this…”
Qu Feng slipped a hand from his sleeve, raised only his little finger, and meaningfully waggled it.
“He’s Zheng Xian’s favorite!”
Eunuchs playing with singing boys was not unheard of in Beijing, but beneath the Son of Heaven, few nobles dared take such a risk.
Xie Yilu did not understand.
“If he’s favored by such a powerful eunuch, then why is he still out…”
Even though the sky was dark, Qu Feng still did not feel at ease. He looked around.
“Just take what I’m saying as drunken nonsense.”
He leaned close, cupping his mouth beside Xie Yilu’s ear.
“Guo Xiaozhuo is Zheng Xian’s spy. He specifically listens in at officials’ banquets!”
The incense on Qu Feng’s body was ambergris. Even after a night, its sweetness was cloying.
With him pressed so close, Xie Yilu felt somewhat uncomfortable.
“No wonder…”
He remembered Guo Xiaozhuo’s words about “these people from the Ministry of War.”
Clearly, he did not take the officials seriously.
Then what about his almost blatantly flirtatious advances?
Xie Yilu wondered—was he really only doing it because he thought Xie Yilu was “handsome”?
Qu Feng was about to say something more when, not far ahead, a small side gate suddenly made a noise.
The bolt slid left and right twice.
With a creak, the gate was pushed open from within.
First came a monk wearing a kasaya.
Then came a line of people dressed in official robes.
At the front were two men carrying white lanterns, each bearing one enormous character:
織.
Xie Yilu immediately recognized them.
They were eunuchs.
Among them, the one walking in the middle wore a blue-green yesa without a rank badge, and an old long saber hung from his waist.
Those people also noticed the two of them and kept glancing in their direction.
The man in the blue-green yesa respectfully took his leave of the monk, then led the others along the main road.
As they walked, the jade ornaments hanging from his gold belt clinked continuously.
“Who are they?” Xie Yilu asked quietly.
“People from the Weaving Bureau.”
Qu Feng turned half away, looking as though he had no desire to compete with them.
“The one at the front is called Zhang Cai.”
As they drew closer, Xie Yilu could finally see clearly.
The one called Zhang Cai, wearing the blue-green yesa, was clearly still a child.
He had phoenix eyes, a small mouth, and was about the same age as Guo Xiaozhuo. His chin was still rounded, with a little baby fat that made him rather cute.
Under the moonlight, it was possible to see that his yesa was made of gold-woven silk.
He held his head up somewhat arrogantly, like a genuine court official, and passed by without looking to either side.
The clinking of his jade pendants gradually drifted away with the golden-red candlelight.
“Liao Jixiang’s man,” Qu Feng said, putting away his folding fan and indicating that they should head back.
“He’s from Goryeo.”
There were many eunuchs from Korea who had come to Beijing as tribute, so Xie Yilu was not surprised.
Instead, he was curious about the monk.
“How did a monk show up in a place like this?”
“This is the grounds of Lingfu Temple. The front section was cleaned up and turned into a garden for banquets and receiving guests. Once you pass through that gate…”
Qu Feng pointed at the side gate Zhang Cai had just come through.
“Behind it are the meditation rooms.”
Xie Yilu could not help laughing.
“This temple certainly knows how to make a living.”
“All the wine we drank and all the dishes we ordered were made by people hired by the monks.”
Qu Feng laughed heartily and affectionately hooked a hand around Xie Yilu’s sleeve.
“Come on. Let’s go back and keep drinking.”
At the mention of drinking, Xie Yilu immediately got a headache.
“I really can’t do it anymore.”
He slipped away from Qu Feng’s hand, turned around, and dodged several steps away as though fleeing.
“I’ll go first. Just tell them I got drunk and collapsed.”
“Did you bring a sedan?”
Qu Feng looked at him with amusement. When he smiled, his two little canine teeth showed, making him look particularly mischievous.
“Take mine. From the main gate, it’s on the left. The one with the blue soft curtain!”
Xie Yilu backed away while clasping his fists toward him.
“No need. I’ll walk off the alcohol in the wind!”
The night was beautiful, and so was the moon.
This was also an elegant garden, with strange rocks, flower windows, and ponds lining the path.
Once he quieted his mind, he could hear nothing but the sound of wind through the pines.
On his first day after arriving in Nanjing, accompanied by the effects of alcohol, Qu Feng, Guo Xiaozhuo, and Zhang Cai all seemed like people from a dream.
After walking out, he found himself on a long street.
At the crossroads, early-rising vendors had already set up wonton stalls.
He looked back.
Sure enough, there was an old stone stele standing before the garden gate. Three blurred characters were carved into it:
Lingfu Temple.
A small temple standing in such a busy marketplace—it was no wonder they had taken to engaging in worldly businesses.
He walked leisurely along the moss-covered courtyard wall of the garden.
Then, without thinking, he turned his head.
At a narrow alley where the wall curved away, he saw an abandoned stone lantern.
Something inside the lantern niche was moving in the wind.
Just slightly.
It even reflected a faint white light.
He walked closer to take a look.
It seemed to be paper, stuffed full inside.
He casually pulled out one sheet.
He had only intended to glance at it, but he froze as though struck by lightning.
The handwriting was extraordinarily beautiful.
The folded corners were vigorous and powerful like the rugged branches of an ancient pine. The strokes and sweeping lines seemed to trail like wild cranes in the clouds. When the brush concealed its tip, the strokes were forceful, with deliberate pauses and turns; when the tip was exposed, the brushwork flowed like drifting smoke and clouds.
Unrestrained and unconventional, with iron strokes and silver hooks.
Xie Yilu was stunned.
He pulled all the papers out in one go and unfolded them one by one.
Most contained lines of poetry such as:
“Plum blossoms make incense for the traveler; pine trees become companions beside the seat.”
“Heavenly winds and clouds are truly like a dream; the years of the human world pass like flowing water.”
There was only one sheet that began with an air of grief and indignation, roughly written in a few bold strokes.
It contained only two large characters:
難鳴
Unable to Cry Out.
Unable to cry out!
It was only a thin sheet of paper, yet it carried all the bitterness of a scholar.
Xie Yilu’s eyes grew hot, and tears nearly fell.
Something in his heart resonated with it, and just like that, he was moved.
Clutching that pile of papers, he spun around foolishly on the spot.
After turning again and again, he finally stamped his foot, lowered his head, and hurried home.
His home was in Third Alley off Xi’an Gate.
He had hired only one personal attendant.
Upon entering, he did not call for anyone to serve him. He went straight to his study, spread out paper, and ground the ink.
He wrote more than a dozen, perhaps twenty sheets in succession.
At last, there was one he was satisfied with.
In running script, it read:
諦聽
Listen Closely.
He put down his brush, carefully folded the calligraphy, tucked it away, and ran back outside.
(3) Dang: Originally referred to an ornament worn on the earlobes of women in ancient times. Later, because the official hats of military eunuchs in the Han dynasty were decorated with golden dang and sable tails, the term came to be used as a reference to eunuchs.