It was another banquet.
Xie Yilu sat at one corner of the long table, staring blankly at the delicacies before him. The main dish was fire-roasted goose, surrounded by four large plates of sugar-coated treats. The wine was Jinan Qiulubai. There was also Junzi fish from Xinghua, golden sparrows from Linjiang, pufferfish from Jiangyin, and bitter bamboo shoots from Jianji Temple. Every single dish could be considered the finest in the world.
It had been more than ten days since he arrived in Nanjing. Every night was spent eating. And besides eating, there was playing—playing with prostitutes, playing with singing boys. It seemed that this was the entirety of life in the Nanjing Ministry of War.
He looked around at his colleagues as though he were watching a farcical play on a stage.
“What are you thinking about?” Qu Feng nudged him with his elbow. “The goose is pretty good. Eat.”
Xie Yilu picked up his chopsticks. They were silver chopsticks with ivory caps.
“What an extravagant spread,” he exclaimed.
Qu Feng heard him and drained the wine in his cup in one gulp, then held it up for him to see.
“There are also gold-inlaid cups.”
Tonight’s banquet was hosted by Zheng Xian, which explained the lavish arrangements.
Yet more than an hour had passed since the banquet began, and Zheng Xian still had not appeared.
Not only had he not arrived, the Minister of War had not come either.
Xie Yilu muttered, “The Minister is late too.”
Qu Feng did not even raise his head.
“He’s not coming tonight.”
As he spoke, he leaned his entire body closer, turning his face and pressing it against Xie Yilu’s neck.
“They didn’t invite him at all.”
Once again, that same ambergris incense.
Xie Yilu leaned backward.
“What do you mean?”
“Take a good look. He’s not the only one missing.”
Only after Qu Feng said this did Xie Yilu carefully count the people present.
Indeed, Minister Liu, Secretary He, Vice Director Ye—several people had not come.
“Could it be…”
“Exactly.”
Qu Feng pressed even closer, lowering his voice further.
“If it were me, I’d only invite my own people too.”
Xie Yilu immediately grew tense.
“Then what about us?”
Qu Feng reached underneath and took his hand, patting it reassuringly.
“We still have a choice—whether to become part of the eunuch faction or not.”
Xie Yilu felt that he could not stay at this banquet for even another moment.
Qu Feng knew what he was thinking and smiled at him in a carefree manner.
“That’s why I told you to eat quickly. You won’t have the chance to enjoy this food in the future.”
Just as he finished speaking, everyone around the table suddenly stood up with a rustle.
Xie Yilu and Qu Feng assumed Zheng Xian had arrived, so they followed suit and bowed.
But the person who entered was not a eunuch.
Instead, it was a tall man in his early thirties, with a neat short mustache above his lips. He wore a dark blue silk Feiyu uniform with a decorative floral pattern and a military official’s black headcloth.
A Jinyiwei Commander of a Thousand Households.
“Lord Tu!”
Everyone cupped their fists in greeting.
The man surnamed Tu merely nodded casually. He did not even take his seat. As he rolled up his sleeves, he asked, “Has the Duke of the Directorate arrived?”
Upon hearing that he had not, he did not even slow his steps. He walked straight through the banquet and into the side hall, where he went to wait.
Everyone sat down again.
Xie Yilu frowned.
“What’s his background?”
“Tu Yue, Zheng Xian’s sworn friend.”
Qu Feng had just picked up his chopsticks when the sound of chaotic footsteps came from outside.
He sighed and put his chopsticks down.
“The main man has arrived.”
Zheng Xian ought to have been a bloated, fat old man.
But when he was surrounded by more than a dozen young eunuchs, carrying a jade belt and walking leisurely with the gait of an official, Xie Yilu was rendered speechless.
That face was difficult to describe in ordinary words.
If he absolutely had to describe it, there were only four words:
As beautiful as peach blossoms and plums.
He wore a lychee-red shimmering lion-patterned robe with a douniu rank badge.
His snow-white fingertips barely showed from his sleeves.
Every official from the Ministry of War, whether third-rank or fifth-rank, stood solemnly as the young eunuchs lifted the back of his robe for him.
He leaned his body sideways and sat down.
Then he lazily said, “This one arrived late.”
Xie Yilu seemed to feel sweat in his palms. His fists would not clench properly.
Before he knew it, he thought of a poem by Wei Zhuang:
What could that jade-like face resemble?
A plum blossom beneath the spring snow, frozen in place,
its whole body surrounded by fragrant mist beneath the morning glow.
Zheng Xian pressed together lips even more brilliant than the color of lychees, then suddenly pulled them into a smile.
His voice was extremely soft—the particular softness of a great person that forced others to listen carefully.
“I’m happy today. This one will toast everyone.”
A young eunuch immediately brought him a full cup of wine.
He raised his hand to take it, tilted back his head, and drained it.
The two rows of officials standing rigidly upright immediately raised their own cups and shouted together:
“Thank you, Duke of the Directorate, for bestowing wine!”
“Good. Very good.”
Zheng Xian nodded in satisfaction.
“Eat.”
He was only twenty-seven or twenty-eight, perhaps?
That was Xie Yilu’s guess.
Yet in his speech and manner, he was completely an old hand.
Zheng Xian set down his cup and raised his head.
He happened to see the foolish-looking sixth-rank official who had been demoted from Beijing staring at him.
He straightened slightly and asked in an old-fashioned, imposing tone:
“Number Three Scholar Xie, are you accustomed to the food in Nanjing?”
Every gaze immediately swept toward Xie Yilu.
He was startled.
He had been the Third Scholar of the Jia-Shen examination cohort, something everyone in the Ministry of War knew.
But no one had ever brought it up, because the difference between them and him was like that between clouds and mud.
“I am,” he hurriedly stood and bowed. “Thank you, Duke, for your concern.”
“All right.”
As he spoke, Zheng Xian stood.
Without another word, he held out a hand for the young eunuch to support him and slowly walked toward the side hall.
“Go on and eat.”
He was going to see Tu Yue.
Xie Yilu slowly sat down.
The moment he had settled into his seat, Qu Feng said, “Don’t let him intimidate you. He only goes back and forth between those two lines. He’s hollow-hearted nanmu wood—there’s nothing inside.”
“What’s his background?”
Xie Yilu wiped his hand clean on his handkerchief.
“He’s always been in the palace. Two years ago, he went to Guangxi to supervise the mines. He probably made quite a fortune.”
Qu Feng sneered.
“Otherwise, where would he have gotten the silver to buy himself this position as Regional Guard Eunuch?”
Xie Yilu’s mouth was dry.
As he leaned forward to pour himself a cup of tea, he saw Guo Xiaozhuo.
He was wearing a plain padded jacket, with an embroidered painted skirt below. Dozens of fine pleats were gathered around his waist, and the slightest movement made it sway like rippling water.
He must have come together with Zheng Xian.
Xie Yilu had not noticed him earlier.
It was just as the old saying went:
When the peony is in bloom, who still has eyes for the begonia?
Guo Xiaozhuo smiled sweetly as he moved among several familiar officials.
He was full of lively charm and quite attractive.
Xie Yilu lowered his head and took a sip of tea.
Before he could swallow, someone called from behind.
He turned around.
It was a young eunuch with a childish face, bowing respectfully.
“The Duke requests your presence.”
Xie Yilu was completely unprepared for this.
He glanced at Qu Feng.
“Me?”
The young eunuch was clever and understood the situation. He gave Qu Feng a cold glance.
“Lord Xie came from Beijing. The Duke would like to reminisce about your shared hometown.”
There was nothing more Xie Yilu could say.
He followed the young eunuch over.
The small side hall was not large, and the light was extremely dim.
A single candle burned on the table.
Zheng Xian was reclining sideways in an official armchair, resting one shoulder casually.
Tu Yue was standing, bent down with his face close to Zheng Xian’s, seemingly whispering something into his ear.
Suddenly, Zheng Xian shoved him and burst into laughter.
Tu Yue had amused him and seemed delighted himself.
Then he raised his eyes and saw Xie Yilu.
His expression immediately turned cold.
He turned his back and went to the table, fiddling with the paperweight.
Zheng Xian laughed until his body trembled and waved toward Xie Yilu.
“Chunchu, come.”
Xie Yilu’s courtesy name was Chunchu.
Being addressed so familiarly made him uncomfortable.
“This subordinate wouldn’t dare.”
In an instant, Zheng Xian changed.
The smile disappeared.
He said nothing.
He simply sat there stiffly, as though he had become angry.
Xie Yilu could not endure it and had no choice but to approach.
Zheng Xian did not ask him to sit.
Instead, he lightly tapped the corner of the table with one finger.
“Have your family come over?”
“My parents died long ago. My wife remains in Beijing.”
Zheng Xian’s long eyelashes, like calamus leaves, fluttered languidly.
“You can bring your concubine over.”
Xie Yilu glanced at Tu Yue from the corner of his eye.
“This subordinate has no concubine.”
Zheng Xian seemed quite surprised.
He even turned his head to look at him.
He was about to say something when a young eunuch entered carrying two scrolls of paintings and calligraphy.
“Deng Jiong has sent two of Mi Fu’s ink-wash landscapes.”
Zheng Xian gave a faint “Mm” without even looking at them.
Then he continued asking Xie Yilu:
“Do you like pretty boys?”
It was as though someone had slapped him hard across the face.
Xie Yilu felt humiliated, yet could not lose his temper.
“This subordinate is dull-witted. I only know how to study and do not know how to enjoy himself.”
Zheng Xian suddenly raised one eyebrow.
Clearly, he was displeased.
Yet even with this expression of displeasure, he was extraordinarily beautiful.
Xie Yilu stole two glances, then lowered his head and did not raise it again.
After a while, another young eunuch entered.
This time he was carrying two red-beaked pigeons with trembling threads on their feet.
“Wang Ziren has sent a pair of black-tailed, emerald-feathered, coral-beaked Jueyun’er.”
Zheng Xian’s eyes immediately followed the pigeons.
“Quick, light the lamps!”
He rose from the official chair, delighted like a child.
“Make a note of this Wang fellow.”
He really was a eunuch, Xie Yilu thought.
He liked pigeons.
He liked extravagant displays.
Perhaps he also liked horse racing and cockfighting.
Over there, Zheng Xian and Tu Yue were discussing the pigeons, one speaking after the other.
Over here, Xie Yilu stood silently waiting.
He neither approached nor looked around.
Zheng Xian occasionally glanced back at him.
From how cold and unsociable he was, Zheng Xian had roughly figured out Xie Yilu’s temperament.
“Chunchu.”
Zheng Xian put down the pigeon and walked over.
“We’re no longer strangers.”
He took the handkerchief handed over by one of his attendants and wiped his hands.
“This one wants to promote you.”
Xie Yilu declined.
“What virtue or ability does this subordinate possess?”
Zheng Xian sneered.
A murderous beauty seemed to radiate through the imperial-bestowed douniu robe.
“In Beijing, you did not go to thank the ‘Old Ancestor’ for his favor.”
“Just for that, this one absolutely must promote you.”
Xie Yilu could not understand.
He boldly looked straight at him.
Zheng Xian smiled faintly.
“There is only one sun above the Forbidden City, but there is more than one cloud holding up the sun.”
“You pushed away his cloud. Why not come rely on mine?”
Xie Yilu suddenly understood.
So Zheng Xian was not beneath the same cloud as the “Old Ancestor.”
In Beijing, he belonged to another line.
“This subordinate does not understand the affairs of the honored ones.”
Although he said this, his gaze quickly flicked toward Tu Yue.
The man stood in the shadows of the candlelight, his face impossible to make out.
Only his splendid Feiyu uniform could be seen, along with the two male pigeons constantly flapping their wings in his arms.
Following this line upward, could it be that they belonged to the line of the eunuch who supervised the Eastern Depot under the Directorate of Ceremonial?
Just as Xie Yilu was trembling inwardly, Guo Xiaozhuo came in, stepping gracefully in his painted skirt, each step like a lotus blooming beneath his feet.
Zheng Xian showed not the slightest restraint around him.
If he was going to lose his temper, he simply did.
“Why did you come in? We’re discussing serious business!”
Guo Xiaozhuo showed not the slightest fear.
He raised one small white hand and patted Zheng Xian on the chest, pushing him back into the chair.
Then he sat directly on his thigh, leaning his entire body into his arms.
He raised his left hand for Zheng Xian to see.
“Pretty, right?”
On his middle finger was a huge white jade ring.
It had just been put on.
Afraid that he might slip down, Zheng Xian wrapped one arm around his waist.
“You don’t lack rings…”
The rest was difficult to hear.
The two pressed their mouths close to each other’s ears, whispering intimately.
Xie Yilu had no interest in listening.
After waiting for a while, it was Zheng Xian who finally gave in.
“All right, all right, all right. I’ve made a note of it. I’ll promote this man tomorrow.”
Guo Xiaozhuo left, completely satisfied.
Only then did Xie Yilu try to speak again.
But Zheng Xian no longer wanted to listen.
His face showed impatient fatigue.
He waved his hand, indicating that Xie Yilu should leave.
“Keep your words in your stomach for a while,” he said, sounding almost like a warning.
“Keep them well. We’ll have plenty of time to talk slowly in the future.”
Xie Yilu left the side hall.
He truly could not bear to stay any longer.
He bade farewell to Qu Feng and walked home.
On the way, he deliberately detoured to the stone lantern at Lingfu Temple to collect the letter.
The person on the other end of the correspondence was an unnamed friend.
Beginning with the abrupt words “Listen Closely,” the two had become kindred spirits.
For more than ten days, they had exchanged letters.
Sometimes when he did not receive one, Xie Yilu would even feel inexplicably disappointed.
After taking the letter, Xie Yilu finally felt at ease.
When he returned home, he first went to the study to read it.
The letter was not long.
It was written in tiny regular script:
Last night the clouds were clear, and the wind occasionally brushed past. Thinking of you, I composed a poem, “A Gift to a Friend.”
Following it was his poem.
The poem itself was ordinary, but the handwriting was truly elegant.
From that handwriting, Xie Yilu felt that the man was clean, detached, and tranquil as still water.
For him, Xie Yilu had specially prepared fragrant jasmine paper, bought fine silkworm-brow ink, and used brushes from Huzhou.
He carefully wrote his reply:
The clear wind and bright moon are not as good as seeing a single character written by you.
Yesterday was Jingzhe. I wore a short jacket and tended the garden. Beneath the steps I planted one green peach tree and two poppies, along with butterfly chrysanthemums, red daffodils, foreign orchids, poppies, and several dianthus. Beneath the eaves I also planted a Western Prefecture crabapple.
I wonder whether they suit your taste?
When the Grain Rain day of the third month arrives, the entire garden will be in bloom. Their forms will be brilliant, and their fragrance will be sweet. I hope to admire them together with you.
He set down his brush.
He did not sign his name either.
He moved aside the paperweight and lifted the letter, looking at it again and again.
Then he compared it with the other person’s handwriting.
He smiled foolishly, both ashamed and admiring.
He opened the letter box and carefully put away the incoming letter.
“Master,” his personal attendant called from outside. “Are you going out again?”
“No.”
Xie Yilu folded his reply and placed it on the desk.
“Go draw some water.”
He planned to deliver the letter to the stone lantern on his way to the government office early the next morning.