“Bring me some more tea broth.”
Zhou Liu-lang said, holding out his bowl to the maid.
“Don’t give it to him.”
Opposite him, Qin Shi’san-lang said, having already set down his own bowl and chopsticks.
The maid only smiled, took Zhou Liu-lang’s bowl, and refilled it with tea broth.
“Sixth Young Master, you must really miss the tea broth from our household,” she teased with a smile.
Qin Shi’san-lang also smiled at the maid.
“Do you know whose tea broth this is?” he asked.
The maid just smiled without replying, handing the bowl back.
“That’s right. Do you know what people eat out in the northwest?” Zhou Liu-lang went on, ignoring Qin Shi’san-lang, and spoke to the maid while stuffing a dumpling into his mouth. His words came out muffled, “Well salt. All the dishes made with well salt taste the same – bitter.”
The maids in the room all looked on with wide-eyed wonder and chimed in with sympathetic sighs.
“What’s there to pity? That’s what the subordinate officers and common soldiers eat—he never had to.” Qin Shi’san-lang said, waving his hand impatiently. “Clear it away, clear it away.”
The maids laughed as they watched Zhou Liu-lang drink down the tea broth, then finally began tidying the tables.
Zhou Liu-lang shoved in the last dumpling, collapsed back onto the cushion, patted his belly, and let out a burp.
Qin Shi’san-lang smacked him with a fan.
“It’s so late already, and you still came to my house just to fill your belly? May poverty starve you to death!” he scolded.
Zhou Liu-lang snatched up the fan and gave himself a few fanning strokes.
“Come on, come on – full and content, let’s go ride horses and shoot arrows! Let’s see if you, our delicate top scholar, can still draw a bow.” He leapt to his feet as he spoke.
Qin Shi’san-lang snorted.
“So what if you’re a little sunburnt, with a face roughened by the wind, and picked up a few bad habits from the soldiers? What’s there to be smug about?” he said, standing up as well. “Fine – let’s go then.”
They ordered the servants to ready the horses, then went to fetch their bows and arrows, quarreling noisily over them as usual.
“It’s been so long since Young Master was this happy.”
“Yes, it’s also been a long time since it’s felt this lively.”
The maids whispered with giggles from under the eaves.
The horses clip-clopped down the street, making passersby quickly step aside.
“Hey, you little cripple – have you been riding in carriages instead of on horseback these past two years?” Zhou Liu-lang called back. “Why are you so slow?”
Qin Shi’san-lang urged his horse forward to catch up.
“I’m telling you, give it a rest, one-armed boy,” he shot back.
Zhou Liu-lang spat in disdain, then proudly showed off his strong arm.
“Your arm I couldn’t tell, but your courage, that I can see – you really have grown bolder. Calling me ‘little cripple’ every other word… you’ve been holding that in for a long time, haven’t you?” Qin Shi’san-lang said. “Was that what you called me in your head ever since the first day we met?”
“You really don’t get it, do you.” Zhou Liu-lang laughed. “It’s the opposite. In my heart you’re not a cripple at all – that’s why I call you ‘little cripple.’ If you really were one, I’d never call you that.”
Qin Shi’san-lang gave an “oh,” raised his brows, and looked at him.
“So you did understand. I thought you had no idea,” he said. Then he spurred his horse closer, lowered his voice, and whispered, “That fragrant girl you’re always thinking about has come back – do you want to go see her?”
“Who wants to see her?” Zhou Liu-lang snorted. But as soon as the words left his mouth, he froze, and his face flushed scarlet.
Fragrant girl! He had always called her “stinky girl.” So by flipping it around, did that mean… in his heart, she was the girl woman…
“You really won’t go?” Qin Shi’san-lang asked. “She’s returned after a long absence -such a happy occasion. How could you not see her?”
But Zhou Liu-lang didn’t joke back this time. His expression grew somber as he looked straight ahead.
“That can’t be called a happy occasion,” he said slowly. “I’d rather… not see her.”
The only reason Cheng Jiao-niang had come to the capital was because Xu Maoxiu and the other men had died.
Qin Shi’san-lang fell silent.
He had no memory of those men, but what he did remember was that girl’s joy from the past.
“Brother,” she had called, with utter seriousness.
It was earnest, from the depths of her heart – not to win favor, not for show, but simply brother, truly family.
And now it was gone.
“I’m sorry, I was frivolous,” he said. “You’re right – I’ve never been to the battlefield, never stared death in the face. I was frivolous.”
Zhou Liu-lang turned his head toward him.
“Just look at you, acting all frivolous!” he laughed heartily, raising his whip with a flourish.
Qin Shi’san-lang’s horse neighed sharply, reared, and bolted forward – Qin Shi’san-lang nearly got thrown from the saddle.
“You little brat!” he shouted.
Zhou Liu-lang laughed even louder, spurred his horse, and galloped past him, racing toward the city gates.
Watching the youth speeding ahead, Qin Shi’san-lang couldn’t help but smile.
Yes – without them, the days were wasted, pale and lifeless.
Yes – now that they were back, he was truly, truly happy. So very happy.
And what was so shameful about admitting that?
Qin Shi’san-lang urged his horse and gave chase.
Although he had said he wouldn’t go see Cheng Jiao-niang, the next day Zhou Liu-lang still showed up at Yudai Bridge.
“Father already came by, so why do I still have to bring her food?”
He grumbled as he dismounted outside the gate.
“Would she even appreciate it?”
The young servant didn’t hear a word of Zhou Liu-lang’s complaints. He hefted up the two large gift boxes in his hands, his eyes shining as he fixed them on the doorway.
Whether the young master was willing to come or not, he couldn’t care less – what mattered was that Zhou Liu-lang had come this time at all, something countless others would envy.
Just think of those attendants who came back the other night. They’d been away with that lady for two years; their families had almost forgotten them. Who would have thought that upon returning, they’d strike it rich?
But then, it was only natural. Consider the three businesses that lady owned in the capital – entrusted to a mere maid to manage. For her attendants to casually pull out sums of money large enough to frighten people wasn’t strange in the least.
He couldn’t help but wonder – did that lady still need more servants, perhaps a boy like him…
When they knocked, the door was opened almost immediately – without even asking who it was.
“…You’re here? Why so slow? Next time we won’t buy wine from your house… Eh? Young Master Zhou, why is it you?”
The maid said, staring at Zhou Liu-lang in surprise.
“My father sent me,” Zhou Liu-lang replied. Just as he was about to turn back, the servant behind him darted forward.
“Ban Qin,” the servant said respectfully, holding out the gift boxes in his hands.
The maid smiled. She had someone take the boxes, then tossed over a handful of coins.
The servant thanked her happily, bowed, and retreated.
Zhou Liu-lang cast a glance at the servant.
“It’s just some daily food and household goods, things sent from our hometown in Shan-zhou…” he explained, “and maybe a few items I brought back from the northwest as well.”
“Then many thanks to you and the Master,” the maid said with a smile, bowing politely.
Zhou Liu-lang lifted his foot to step through the door, but the maid moved forward to block him.
“Sixth Young Master, our lady is occupied and cannot receive guests,” she said with a polite smile.
Under the veranda, Ban Qin had just taken a bowl from two little maids and was about to turn back into the hall when she suddenly heard the thud of a door being kicked open.
“Zhou Liu-lang!”
The maid’s cry followed at once.
By the time Ban Qin lifted her head, Zhou Liu-lang had already strode into the courtyard. But this time, unlike before when he would barge straight in, he was held back by the attendants.
Zhou Liu-lang looked at the attendants blocking his way and gave a derisive laugh.
“What’s your family name?” he said. “You think you can stop me?”
“Young Master, we bear the surname Zhou as well, but now we serve our lady,” the lead attendant replied, raising his hand in signal.
At once, the attendants on all sides closed in, ready to seize him and throw him out.
Zhou Liu-lang glanced at them, exhaled, and gave a small laugh.
“Cheng Jiao-niang!” he shouted loudly toward the hall, his tone full of irritation.
From within the hall, the other half of the door was pulled open by a little maid. Ban Qin stepped aside, revealing the girl seated within.
She wore a plain floral blouse tied at the chest, with a satin outer robe; her dark hair was gathered in a single knot at the temple. Her face was still as flawless as porcelain, immaculate to the point of seeming devoid of life.
Though long unseen, she appeared as though it had only been yesterday.
The maid waved her hand, and the attendants stepped aside. Ban Qin and the little maids all bowed, watching as Zhou Liu-lang stormed into the hall with heavy steps.
The air reeked of wine.
Zhou Liu-lang’s gaze swept over the row of large bowls laid out before Cheng Jiao-niang, and the neatly arranged wine jars to the side.
“What are you doing?” he barked.
Cheng Jiao-niang lifted one of the bowls in front of her.
“Drinking,” she said with a faint smile, and indeed raised her hand to take a draught.
Drinking?
Zhou Liu-lang looked at her, his expression growing heavy.
Ban Qin and two little maids had also entered. One picked up a wine jar to pour into the bowls; Ban Qin then placed the filled bowl back before Cheng Jiao-niang. On the other side, four or five emptied bowls were already lined up in order.
“Miss, the wine from Yunxian Residence has arrived,” a maid called from outside, carrying in a medium-sized wine jar and setting it down beside the others.
The little maids immediately lifted the newly delivered jar and began pouring.
Cheng Jiao-niang set aside the bowl she had just drained and picked up another. But this time, before she could raise it to her lips, Zhou Liu-lang strode forward and seized her wrist. He used so much force that the wine splashed, soaking through her clothes.
The thin summer blouse clung instantly to her body, outlining the delicate curves of her figure. From above, Zhou Liu-lang’s eyes took in every rise and hollow of the landscape before him.
Ban Qin cried out in alarm and lunged forward.
Zhou Liu-lang had already leapt back, his face flushing red as he turned his gaze aside – clearly more startled than even the maids.
“I – I – weren’t you not supposed to drink wine!” he stammered.
“I only don’t like drinking, it’s not that I can’t,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied. As she took the handkerchief Ban Qin offered to blot her soaked clothes, she also signaled for another to be given to Zhou Liu-lang.
His robe had been splashed as well, though only a little. When a little maid handed him a plain brocade kerchief, he hesitated but still accepted it, lowering his head to dab at the stains twice.
“In the past I didn’t dare drink either… My head was already muddled and unclear – if I drank on top of that, I feared I might get drunk and never wake up.”
Her voice drifted to his ears, soft but steady.
So now she isn’t afraid anymore? Or has sorrow grown so great it outweighs fear?
“You’re grieving, but that doesn’t mean you should ruin yourself like this,” Zhou Liu-lang muttered with his head lowered. “Drowning your sorrows in wine – what kind of skill is that? It’s the most worthless thing of all.”
Cheng Jiao-niang set down her handkerchief with a smile but said nothing. Out of the corner of his eye, Zhou Liu-lang saw her pick up another bowl of wine.
“Hey!” he shouted, frowning.
Cheng Jiao-niang looked at him.
“Do you want a bowl too?” she asked, raising her hand in signal.
Sure enough, Ban Qin brought a bowl over.
Zhou Liu-lang took it, drained it in one gulp, then stepped forward and knelt down at Cheng Jiao-niang’s side. Staring at the line of wine bowls laid out before her, he didn’t say a word – just picked them up one after another and drank.
His movements were so quick and forceful that in almost the blink of an eye, all seven bowls were emptied.
The young man wiped his mouth with his sleeve, exhaled, and looked at Cheng Jiao-niang.
“It was my fault I didn’t look after them,” he said, his breath trembling. The strong wine had already flushed his face bright red, and even his eyes seemed clouded with its haze. “I didn’t look after them. Tell me – what do you want me to do?”
“You really haven’t grown at all,” Cheng Jiao-niang said with a faint smile. “No one is meant to be responsible for another, and no one should expect to be taken care of. Everyone bears their own burdens – what does any of that have to do with you?”
As she spoke, she raised the bowl in her hand to drink. Zhou Liu-lang snatched it away and downed it in one gulp.
“That’s right. I was talking about my own burden – it has nothing to do with you, nothing to do with them either,” he said. Tossing the bowl aside, he stood up to leave. But after only a few steps, his legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the floor.
“Miss, he’s passed out drunk,” Ban Qin stepped forward to check and reported.
“Only eight bowls before collapsing? This wine really is disgracefully weak,” Cheng Jiao-niang said as she rose to her feet. Her gaze swept the rows of wine jars in the room. “Take them down and share them out among everyone.”
“Yes, my lady,” Ban Qin answered, watching as Cheng Jiao-niang stepped past Zhou Liu-lang and walked out. She cast another glance at him sprawled across the hall, snoring in his drunken sleep.
“Come, move the jars outside,” she said as she too stepped over Zhou Liu-lang, calling to the attendants waiting in the courtyard.
…
In the imperial palace, Doctor Li let go of his hand, and the eunuchs on either side quickly released him as well. The long-restrained, restless Prince Qing cried out and went running off.
“Take him to the courtyard to play,” said Duke Jin’an.
“Yes, Your Highness,” the eunuchs replied.
“His Highness Prince Qing is in excellent health,” Doctor Li said. Then he glanced at Duke Jin’an with a smile. “Though I suppose Your Highness must be tired of hearing such words. What you truly wish to hear is something else, isn’t it?”
Duke Jin’an smiled.
“No – I gave up hope long ago,” he said. “Life is short. How could I waste it indulging in unrealistic fantasies?”
Doctor Li looked at the young man before him, sighed softly, and nodded.
“Your Highness should still try to be happy. Life is short,” he said with a smile.
Duke Jin’an smiled again and nodded.
“I am happy. And I will be even happier,” he said.
Just the thought of what I’m going to do fills me with joy. And once it’s done – I’ll be even happier.
