“What is that?”
At this moment, people all across the capital were looking up into the sky.
“Fireworks in broad daylight?”
“But they’re flying way too high…”
On the Nine-Tiered Pagoda in the southern part of the city, a few sightseers had spent half a day climbing to the very top. From there they overlooked the entire capital, their hearts stirred and poetic inspiration welling up, just about to splash ink upon the wall with their verses – when suddenly, at eye level, brilliant white fireworks blossomed, leaving them dumbfounded on the spot.
“Is that fireworks?”
“Impossible. Even on the Lantern Festival, the fireworks filling the whole city only ever reach as high as the third tier of the tower. How could these soar so high?”
As they spoke, more fireworks burst one after another, blasting away all the verses that had just formed in their minds, leaving them to argue over nothing but how high fireworks could possibly fly.
On the eastern city wall, the patrolling soldiers also looked up at the fireworks with curiosity.
“Someone’s actually setting off fireworks in broad daylight,” they murmured to one another, though it didn’t seem like anything worth stopping for.
The patrol continued on until the man at the front suddenly halted.
The gate officer of the East Gate lifted his head again to the sky, his expression growing increasingly grave.
“Look…” he said.
We’ve all looked, haven’t we? The soldiers were puzzled, but they too raised their heads once more.
The fireworks were still going off overhead.
“Fireworks can actually fly that high…” the gate officer muttered in astonishment.
From afar, it was a lively spectacle. But right beneath those fireworks, the scene was far more chaotic.
Outside a wide square in the eastern part of the city, crowds of people had gathered. They watched as, on the open ground, someone once again set several bamboo tubes onto a wooden rack. This time, having learned from experience, everyone quickly raised their hands to cover their ears.
Over there, the man lit the bamboo tubes with a torch, then hurriedly ran off. With a sharp whoosh, the tubes shot straight into the sky.
All eyes lifted upward to follow.
With a booming crash, the fireworks burst in the air.
And on the ground, the crowd erupted as well.
“…These fireworks are even fiercer than the Shooting Stars from the Li family’s shop…”
“…The Li family’s Shooting Stars are all show and no substance – they ought to be called Falling Stars…”
“…Exactly! This is what deserves to be called Shooting Stars. Just look how high they fly… If it were nighttime, they’d really look like they were chasing the stars.”
After the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the fireworks finally came to an end. The air was filled with the drifting scent of gunpowder. The sounds of weeping – previously drowned out by the explosions – had ceased as well. Over there, the coffin had been laid into the earth, and a tombstone was raised.
The tombstone bore no inscription.
This news quickly spread among the onlookers.
“…They say it’s to let the world judge for itself…”
“…Yes, someone who had rendered merit but went unrecognized – how could they be willing to accept it…”
“…What exactly was the story with these people again?”
“…You’ve been following along all this time and still don’t know? Were you just busy drinking?”
“…That’s right, that’s right! There wasn’t enough wine being passed out on the streets. Look over there – two more stacks are set out. We’ll definitely get our fill this time.”
Amidst the crowd’s chatter and laughter, a sudden scream rang out from the front -followed by the crash of something heavy shattering.
What had happened?
The crowd immediately surged forward again, and once they saw clearly what had occurred, an uproar broke out.
“My wine!”
Many people cried out in alarm, “Fan Shitou, drink to your heart’s content!”
Fan Jianglin had smashed two heavy wine jars hard against a tombstone, shouting,
“Xu Maoxiu, drink to your heart’s content!”
Crash, crash – two more jars shattered.
“Xu Layue…”
“Fan Sanchou…”
“Xu Bangchui…”
Standing before the grave, Fan Jianglin threw back his head, his voice tearing out of his throat as though he were pouring out the strength of his entire life.
Name after name, call after call.
But no matter how he shouted, no one would ever answer again. Never again.
From now on, even the chance to call their names was gone. Gone.
“…With ten thousand hearts as one… together we share the foe…”
“…With loyalty and brotherhood… we charge against the stars…”
“…One man to stand against a thousand… facing death as if to sleep…”
“…For the nation, to save the people… slay the traitors and seek glory on the field…”
A coarse, rasping voice bellowed out the song without pitch or melody, accompanied by the crash of wine jars shattering one after another. Wine streamed across the ground before the grave, its fragrance spreading in all directions.
The sight shook the onlookers anew. Whether they had come for the wine, for the fireworks, or simply because the crowd drew them in, now all fell silent.
“…Recruitment at Ji Gate… the army must not be delayed…”
“…A thousand gold for a horsewhip… a hundred gold for a blade’s edge…”
On the hillside not far away, Qin Shi’san-lang softly hummed along, then turned his head toward Zhou Liu-lang at his side.
“How’s my singing?” he asked.
Zhou Liu-lang held a wine bowl in his hands, his expression blank as he stared at the crowd below. Qin Shi’san-lang’s question cut across the tune he had been murmuring inwardly along with Fan Jianglin.
He merely grunted in reply, said nothing, and raised the bowl to drink.
“Hold on, this wine is too strong – you’d better drink less,” Qin Shi’san-lang said.
“You’ve had some already?” Zhou Liu-lang asked, looking at him.
Qin Shi’san-lang shook his head.
“No,” he replied. “Your sister is far too strict about rules. She said this wine was for offering to her brothers, that it could only be drunk today. And so it truly can only be drunk today. Before you had someone grab me a bowl just now, I hadn’t even caught a whiff of it.”
Zhou Liu-lang grinned.
“Good.” He raised the bowl and drained it in one gulp.
But he had still underestimated the wine’s strength. It choked him so hard he broke into a fit of coughing, his face flushing bright red in an instant.
Qin Shi’san-lang burst out laughing.
“You’re the same – didn’t you see the way those people were guzzling the wine? Didn’t you see how many along the way passed out drunk? And still you don’t believe what she said,” he remarked.
“So what? What good does it do!” Zhou Liu-lang coughed as he spoke, pointing down below. “Those people – it has nothing to do with them. They’re purely here for the spectacle. They can’t even remember the names of Xu Mouxiu and the others. Do you really expect them to seek justice for them? To spread the word of Xu Maoxiu and the others’ merits and wrongs? Three days won’t pass before they’re forgotten. No – less than three days. By tomorrow they’ll be forgotten.”
Qin Shi’san-lang shook his head, gazing at the crowd below.
“If it were only about this one spectacle, they would indeed forget quickly. But now, what they’ve seen is more than just a spectacle,” he said. “The grand commotion of the mysterious master of Tai Ping Residence, Immortal’s Abode, and Yichun Hall in the capital finally being revealed; the spectacle of fireworks blazing bright even in broad daylight. Of course, these two matters at most will give the people something to gossip about for three to five days – or, at most, a month or two. But there is yet another spectacle, one that is the most crucial and most important of all, and that is…”
“Wine?” Zhou Liu-lang muttered. He looked at the bowl in his hand – yet before the words had even faded, the bowl slipped from his grip and clattered to the ground, and he himself collapsed with a heavy thud. Fortunately, Qin Shi’san-lang’s quick reflexes caught him in time, sparing him from rolling all the way down.
Qin Shi’san-lang laid Zhou Liu-lang flat on the ground, then rubbed his own arm.
“This kid… two years apart and he’s really put on weight. Heavy as an ox,” he muttered. Glancing at the boy beside him – face flushed, snoring drunkenly, breaking into silly grins even in sleep – he could only shake his head with a smile.
As the snores continued, his gaze shifted back down the hillside. The funeral procession below was already dispersing, but the crowd of onlookers remained.
“Wine – such fine wine, a fiery brew unique in this world, never to be seen again. Those who have tasted it will never forget; not only will they not forget, but the memory will ripen in their hearts, aging like vintage fragrance. Those who did not taste it will not forget either; not only will they not forget, but they will be consumed with regret for missing it.
The thing most impossible to forget in this world – is what one never attained.
And the longer time goes on, the harder it will be to forget.
As long as they recall today’s wine, they will recall today’s event – and they will remember the five brothers of Maoyuan Mountain.
This wine, if I am not mistaken, from this day forth will be called Maoyuan Mountain.”
Qin Shi’san-lang gazed down the hillside, then rose to his feet. At the end of July, the hot wind swept across the plain, whirling past him and lifting his robes into a flutter.
She truly had done nothing – she hadn’t sought anyone out, hadn’t pleaded with anyone, hadn’t wept, hadn’t lodged a complaint. Just as she had said, all she wanted was to bury her brothers.
Yet who could have imagined such a grand spectacle for a burial!
“You want to hear? Then let you hear! Let you hear! Hear the whole city speak of Maoyuan Mountain!” he said with a smile, raising his head, his eyes shifting toward the city gate.
The imperial clan, the court, the officials –
Then let you hear! Let you hear! Hear the whole city speak of Maoyuan Mountain!
“The girl who always hid behind the scenes has, this time, stepped directly into the sight of the entire capital,” Qin Shi’san-lang said, stretching out his hand. “Tai Ping Residence’s tofu maker, the passing immortal, the divine doctor, the deserters’ sisters – no, by laying out these four identities so openly, she’s also revealing much more. Anyone clever will make the connections – say, to Secretariat Editor Liu, or to the deserter incident…”
At this point he let out a breath, glancing down the slope.
“To cast out so many skills all at once – clearly, she is truly furious.”
Saying so, he sat back down.
“She can make tofu, she can cook delicacies, she can heal, she knows astronomy and calendars – and now she’s even brewed wine…” He ticked them off on his fingers one by one.
“Every time you marvel at one of her feats, she immediately astounds you with another. Truly, who can see through her, who can ever see enough of her – she dazzles the eyes beyond measure…”
As he spoke, he gave a kick to Zhou Liu-lang, snoring soundly beside him.
“She makes it impossible not to look, not to think of her. Impossible to turn away. Don’t you agree?”
The drowsing Zhou Liu-lang grunted twice in his sleep in answer.
The sky had long since returned to calm, and the city patrol had already circled the walls twice, yet the gate officer at the eastern gate still stood rooted in place, gazing upward without moving.
“How could fireworks fly so high?” he muttered.
The passing soldiers frowned, puzzled.
Ever since witnessing those daylight fireworks earlier, the gate officer had been like this – half in thought, half in a daze, occasionally letting slip that same murmured question.
Since when had their commander turned into some woman or scholar, being so sentimental?
“So what about it?” someone couldn’t help but ask.
“Fireworks have never flown that high – because gunpowder alone cannot achieve it,” the gate officer said, shaking his head.
The soldiers exchanged glances, hiding a trace of amusement.
“You truly know how to see what others can’t,” one of them said with a half-smile.
These words snapped the gate officer back to himself. He frowned and cast the soldier a look. True, he held an official title, but in a capital crawling with officials like stray dogs, being the lowest rank of military officer meant next to nothing.
Look at this very soldier before him – just a common footman, yet with a relative whose rank far surpassed his own.
The gate officer withdrew his gaze and said nothing more.
“What’s going on here?” a group of men called out as they approached from a distance.
At their head was a general, imposing and stern. The gate officer hurried forward to greet him.
“Master Li is watching fireworks,” someone joked.
The words drew a round of laughter.
“Li Mao, since you’ve spent money to buy yourself an official’s rank, stop thinking only about your family’s business,” the general said with a frown, his tone edged with displeasure.
The gate officer’s face flushed with embarrassment, and he lowered his head.
“Yes, my lord,” he answered.
“Do your duty well, and one day you may earn a proper shift command. Then people will say that the Li family has produced a good son, not only fireworks. Let it be known that your Li clan is more than just the forefathers of firecrackers,” the general said.
Though the words sounded like encouragement, the hidden and not-so-hidden smirks around them made clear it was really a humiliation.
The gate officer – Li Mao, third son of the main branch of the famed Li family of firework merchants in the capital, whose family’s tribute fireworks had won imperial praise and secured him a military officer’s post – clenched his fists and bowed in response.
Only after the crowd had bustled away did he slowly straighten up, lifting his head once more to the sky.
“Have you ever thought – if fireworks can shoot straight up so high, what if they were fired level?” he murmured, eyes gleaming. “How exactly was it done, to make gunpowder fly so high…”
