Early in the morning, quite a number of people were already standing in front of Tai Ping Residence outside the city. Although some had learned in advance, when reserving seats, that the place would be closed today, many others had come on a whim. So when they heard it was closed, they couldn’t help but feel disappointed.
“Why are you just standing around? If you’ve got nothing to do, why not open the doors?”
Such questions rose up from time to time.
“We have matters to attend to,” said one of the attendants at the door, his expression tinged with grief. “Our masters have passed away. Today is the day the coffin is being brought back here, and we all must go to receive it.”
No sooner had he finished speaking than a number of people walked out from the back courtyard. They weren’t clad in mourning clothes, but each held a mourning tablet, a funeral banner, or a white streamer.
Seeing them come out, the shop boy stopped speaking to the crowd and hurried over to join the procession.
So it really was a funeral.
With no other choice, the gathered people slowly dispersed.
“Our apologies, everyone.” The manager bowed deeply, apologizing again and again as he pointed to several wine jars being set up by the roadside, along with a stack of bowls. “In a little while, free wine will be shared for everyone to drink. If you’ve nothing pressing to do, you may have a bowl.”
Most of the people who had come here to eat didn’t care much for a free bowl of wine, and besides, how good could such common wine really be?
So some laughed, shook their heads, and left. But not everyone went away – some idlers with nothing else to do, and some true drink-lovers, stayed behind, standing by the roadside with curiosity, watching the proceedings.
“Wasn’t your master Minister Chen?”
“How is it that your master has passed away?”
“You just said ‘masters’ – do you mean you have several masters? And they all died together?”
The questions came one after another.
“Our masters served bravely in the Northwestern Army. In the battle of offense and defense this past May, they lived and died with the city. All five of our masters fell in battle,” the manager said.
The people of the capital still remembered that May campaign – it had been a great battle. Messengers had shouted the victory news throughout the city, and the bell towers and temples had staged opera performances for three days in celebration.
So it turned out they had perished in that very battle.
No one had expected that the owners of Tai Ping Residence would actually go to the northwestern front, and even less that they would die there. There was no other explanation except that they were true men of valor, pouring out their blood for their country.
The crowd was filled with sighs and exclamations. With such a story to talk about, more and more people gathered by the roadside to wait – it was, after all, something to tell others about.
Meanwhile, they whispered among themselves and craned their necks, peering curiously down the main road.
…
“Master Fan.”
A man stepped forward and bowed.
“Everything is ready.”
Fan Jianglin looked ahead – five carts, each bearing a coffin neatly laid upon it, and even the horses pulling the carts were draped with white cloth.
He turned his head again, seeing his wife now dressed in mourning clothes as well. The infant in her arms, though still so young, was also clad in heavy mourning garb. Yet a child knows nothing of grief or joy – his rosy little face was lit up with smiles.
Fan Jianglin reached out and took the child into his arms.
The baby babbled, stretching his hands to touch Fan Jianglin’s face.
These past days, the infant had eaten and slept with them, already so familiar that in his small heart, this was mother and father. As for his real parents – when he grew up, even if someone were to tell him, he would never retain the slightest memory. All that would remain was a single name.
Fan Jianglin’s eyes reddened as he pressed his face close to the child’s.
The rough stubble brushed lightly against the baby’s cheek – playful to the child, who giggled with delight.
Coffins, white banners, hempen mourning cloth, and a child’s laughter – the scene carried a strange kind of beauty.
Drawing a deep breath, Fan Jianglin held the child securely, then reached out with one hand to take up a mourning banner.
“Brothers, let’s go home,” he called out, his voice ringing long and clear.
At his cry, the attendants all around cast the paper money from their baskets into the air, fluttering and scattering down like drifting snow.
…
“They’re here, they’re here.”
The people waiting in front of Tai Ping Residence hadn’t been standing long when a shout rang out.
At the same time, a horse galloped up.
“The fallen heroes return, the fallen heroes return!” the rider cried out in a loud voice as he sped past.
Following that cry, a line of carts and horses slowly came into view.
“Masters!”
With a wail, the manager fell to his knees, bowing low as he sobbed.
The assistants behind him also dropped to their knees, pressing their foreheads to the ground as they wept. Others began scattering paper money into the air.
“Masters, may your journey be smooth!”
Their voices rose together, drawn out and resounding in unison.
The once-boisterous crowd fell silent. Amid the fluttering rain of paper money, their expressions grew solemn. And as the funeral procession drew nearer, they saw in the arms of a man riding at the front a small child. No one had introduced him, but from his mourning attire, all could tell he was the orphan of one of the five dead lying in those coffins.
Fan Jianglin ignored the roadside mourners. Seated on horseback, he held the child in his arms, eyes fixed straight ahead. Upon his shoulder the mourning banner streamed in the wind, while the infant reached out tiny hands toward it, babbling and cooing.
“How pitiful…” the onlookers couldn’t help but sigh, while many women secretly wiped away their tears.
“With such wealth and a thriving business, why go off to be a soldier?”
“A soldier? Weren’t they officers?”
“What officers – just soldiers. They died in battle for nothing. I heard there wasn’t even a posthumous reward.”
“Heavens, heavens, isn’t that far too unjust?”
“How did they die? Tell us quickly.”
The crowd of onlookers began murmuring, pointing as they watched the procession pass by.
Even the soldiers marching in the ranks couldn’t hide their astonishment.
They had long heard that these seven men from Maoyuan Mountain were the owners of a shop in the capital. On holidays and festivals, the gifts they sent piled up in the barracks, not to mention the dividends given out every six months – some said they had seen it with their own eyes, amounting to tens of thousands of strings of cash at a time.
Tens of thousands! In the northwest, not even many officers had accumulated such wealth.
Still, many had doubted it. After all, with that kind of fortune, who would risk their life on the front lines? Why choose a livelihood where death could come at any moment, when one could simply live as a rich and prosperous merchant?
Perhaps, people had thought, they had merely struck some sudden windfall in the capital.
But at this moment – seeing the crowds that had come to welcome them back, hearing the manager’s heart-rending wails – the soldiers finally believed it.
So it really was that restaurant.
It seemed to be thriving indeed, a genuine business.
Their hearts grew heavy with mixed emotions – pity, sorrow, and an inexpressible envy.
The short stretch of road was quickly behind them. Those who had been kneeling at the roadside in mourning now rose to their feet and, of their own accord, lined up to follow behind the carts. More white mourning banners joined the procession, and the fluttering of paper money grew ever denser.
Once the funeral procession had passed, the roadside onlookers also began to disperse.
“Come, come, everyone – please accept this wine of thanks,” said the five men left behind from Tai Ping Residence, as they began handing out bowls.
Some people accepted, while others hesitated.
“This is the head owner’s own brew,” someone explained, lifting up a wine jar. “It was never sold to outsiders, unique in the world. They say it’s the strongest liquor ever made.” He paused here, then added, “So if your drinking capacity isn’t good, just take a sip.”
Those words made the people who had been ready to leave suddenly crowd back together again.
“What nonsense are you spouting?”
“We’re not spouting nonsense – it’s just what we were told. We don’t really know ourselves. We were only hired to hand out the wine,” the man said with a grin, lifting the lid off a wine jar as he spoke.
“What a fragrance!”
“Smells good – let me try some!”
“There are only these two jars. Once they’re gone, that’s it. This was never sold outside. The head owner brewed it especially in honor of the fallen masters.”
The liquor gushed as it was poured into the big bowls, one after another, and many eager hands reached out to take them away.
Most people tipped their heads back and drank in great gulps.
At once, cries and shouts broke out.
“So strong!”
Along with the howls, someone suddenly toppled over with a thud.
“Someone’s passed out drunk!”
“Heavens, no way – just one bowl and down already? Must be that he can’t hold his liquor!”
…
“They’re here, they’re here!”
Someone suddenly shouted loudly among the people gathered at the city gate, and at once the crowd that had been waiting so long grew restless.
The soldiers guarding the gate tensed immediately.
“Sir, there won’t be any trouble with this, will there?” one soldier whispered, glancing at the pressing throng in front of the gate. There stood several ritual tables, and behind them a dozen men holding white mourning banners. In their midst a flagpole was raised, and upon it fluttered the three characters Yichun Hall in the wind.
No one in the capital was unfamiliar with Yichun Hall – that was the pharmacy once presided over by the divine doctor herself. Though she had long since vanished without a trace, the business had continued to thrive: the medicines were good, and the doctors skilled. After all, any place once graced by a divine doctor would surely retain a touch of celestial aura.
Who, then, was this deceased person, that they should even be connected to Yichun Hall?
“No problem – it’s just rich folks wanting to make a bigger show of their funeral,” the gate officer said carelessly, while patting the heavy money pouch hidden in his sleeve.
These wealthy people loved their empty displays. Weren’t there even those who hired professional mourners to cry at funerals for the sake of appearances? Setting up offerings on the street, handing out free wine to draw a crowd of onlookers – that was no different from hiring people to wail.
“Under the Emperor’s very feet, here in the capital itself – what trouble could there be?”
“Heroes return, heroes return!”
A rider bearing a white mourning banner suddenly galloped forward, not pausing for even a moment, and passed straight through the city gates.
As he went by, all those from Yichun Hall who had been standing solemnly nearby drew up their robes and dropped to their knees in unison.
“Masters, may your journey be smooth!” the manager of Yichun Hall was the first to cry out, bowing low with sobs.
The assistants behind him bent low as well, weeping in unison. The attendants, who had long been waiting with baskets in hand, scattered great handfuls of paper money into the air.
The paper money whirled and fluttered, mingling with the streamers already drifting from the funeral procession as it drew closer.
“So many dead…”
“What a pity…”
“The child is still so young – how pitiful…”
“How was it they died again?”
A low murmur of voices rippled through the crowd as they watched the carts and horses pass by. From this side onward, even more mourners carrying white banners joined the procession. Seen from the top of the city gate, the sight was truly overwhelming.
“Quite the spectacle indeed,” the gate officer remarked with a nod.
The funeral procession soon passed through. The officer nodded again, signaling that it was time to disperse the crowds at the gate – when he noticed the few men still standing by the ritual tables lift up wine jars.
“Everyone, this is our masters’ thank-you wine. Please have a bowl.”
Ah, yes – these were the ones who had claimed they would treat passersby to free wine.
“There are only two jars. It’s our head owner’s own brew, never sold outside, unique in the world – the strongest liquor there is. Everyone should drink sparingly.”
The gate officer chuckled at that.
“Well now, even in a funeral they don’t forget business. We’ve really underestimated these merchants,” he said, then waved to the others. “Come on, let’s go down and try this so-called strongest liquor.”
…
“Master, Master…”
From within the crowd on the street, the wailing of a man drew particular attention.
Two attendants supported him as he wept so hard he could no longer stand or walk, blocking the middle of the road.
Behind them followed a dozen people carrying white mourning banners, while a great flag bearing the characters Immortal’s Abode fluttered in the wind.
“Masters, how could you leave like this? How could you leave us like this?”
The man beat his chest and stamped his feet, nearly fainting from grief. The two attendants could no longer hold him up and could only let him collapse to his knees on the ground.
“Who is that man?”
“You don’t recognize him? That’s Li Dashao, the left-handed head chef of Immortal’s Abode.”
“Left-handed chef? You mean the one famous for his superb sashimi at Immortal’s Abode?”
“Exactly – the chef who lost his right hand and then trained his left to master exquisite knife work.”
“Yes, yes, that’s him. So many people go to Immortal’s Abode specifically asking for his sashimi – his knife skills are incredible.”
“So these people were the owners of Immortal’s Abode?”
That remark was immediately met with rebuttal.
“Not just Immortal’s Abode – they were also the owners of Tai Ping Residence and Yichun Hall.”
All three of the capital’s most famous establishments connected to them? What a joke –that would mean enormous wealth!
Could men of such means really die? Die, perhaps – but certainly not fall on the battlefield.
Who would risk their life when they had that much money? Would only a fool do such a thing?
“Why would I lie to you? I’ve been following along, watching the whole way. All three shops have set up offerings, each with their own people in attendance.”
“So the three shops actually had the same owners!”
The news spread instantly through the street, throwing the crowd into a stir.
This was big news. For so long, the true masters behind these three famous establishments had been shrouded in mystery, leaving people to speculate without ever finding the answer. Who would have thought a funeral would reveal it all?
“Hurry, let’s go see – find out who this head owner really was.”
The tide of people on the street surged forward, ready to follow the funeral procession that had already passed. But someone called out to stop them.
“Everyone, this is our masters’ thank-you wine. Please, have a bowl.”
“There are only two jars. It’s the head owner’s own brew, never sold outside, unique in the world – the strongest liquor under heaven. Everyone should drink sparingly.”
“What nonsense, what’s so special about this wine?”
But just as that voice of doubt rose, it was quickly cut off.
“Give me some! Give me some!”
The uproar drew everyone’s attention as a large crowd came running over. Their faces were flushed, eyes shining, some even staggering on their feet – yet none of that slowed them down as they rushed forward at full speed, scrambling madly for the wine bowls.
“This is fine wine – truly fine wine! The strongest liquor in the world!”
“Is it really that good?”
“Of course! Go see for yourself – along the way countless people have already been knocked flat! Just one bowl, one bowl and you’re drunk!”
“Hurry, chase after them! There’s more over there – go, go catch up!”
Those caught in the throng didn’t think much of it, only that the crowd was growing more and more packed. But at that moment, the people watching from the upper floors along both sides of the street were struck dumb, their faces full of disbelief.
From their vantage point, the entire street below surged with people, as lively and packed as during the Lantern Festival.
How had there suddenly become so many people? A funeral procession had passed –shouldn’t the crowd have dispersed? Why was it that instead, people were chasing after it in droves?
Unconsciously, they turned to look back the way the crowd had come. From that direction, even more people were flooding in, like a great river bursting its banks, a torrent rolling forward – so overwhelming it made one’s chest tighten with dread.
Just what on earth was happening?
