Six Flavors House, third floor, riverside private room.
Though the sky outside was dark and overcast, by evening the pleasure boats moored along the Qinhuai River had already lit their lanterns. Rippling waves reflected shimmering lights, shadows of candles danced — a beauty of its own.
Beyond a curtain of crystal beads, Qinhuai courtesans plucked strings and sang, soft Wu dialect, lilting voices.
Suddenly, outside the carved wooden door came the announcement: “My lord, Young Master Pei has arrived.”
The second prince, seated at the head, put down his wine cup: “Quick, invite him in.”
The door pushed open from outside, and Pei Xia in his ivory-white long robe walked in at an unhurried pace. He bowed to the master seat: “Your Highness.”
He also exchanged bows with the two sons of the Cui family seated to the sides.
“There are no outsiders here, no need for so much formality.” The second prince lifted his hand, beckoning him to sit. “But Shouzhen, why so late? Just now a courtesan sang The Song of the Bright Moon, it was truly delightful. Pity you missed it.”
Pei Xia lifted his robe and sat down gracefully: “I was buying a few velvet flowers for the women of my household — it delayed me a bit. I beg Your Highness’ pardon.”
“No crime, but punishment there must be.” The second prince smiled at him: “How about three cups, self-poured?”
Pei Xia accepted cheerfully: “Yes, I acknowledge the penalty.”
At once a lovely maid stepped forward, kneeling gracefully to pour his wine.
Pei Xia caught the strong powdery scent on her body, his brows faintly knitting though his face showed nothing. When she finished filling the cup, he said: “You may step back. I’ll pour for myself.”
His tone was even, cool, without a trace of emotion.
The maid looked at him nervously: “Did… did this servant serve poorly in some way?”
Pei Xia said, “It has nothing to do with you. I have never liked women attending me at close hand.”
The maid still wanted to speak, but when her eyes met those cool, deep black pupils, icy and detached, she instantly dared not say more. She quickly lowered her head and silently retreated behind the seats.
Long fingers held the porcelain-white wine cup patterned with banana leaves. Tilting back his head, Pei Xia drained it in one go, then poured himself two more cups.
After three cups had gone down his throat and he sat back again, that pale, cold face of his was already tinged with a faint flush—three parts less chill, three parts more allure.
The second prince on the main seat clapped his hands: “Shouzhen, fine tolerance for wine!”
The two Cui brothers looked at the slightly flushed heir of the Pei clan and both laughed. Cui Dalang asked, “Does Brother Shouzhen rarely drink? How is it that it shows on your face so quickly?”
Pei Xia said, “I do not often drink, mostly tea. But if there is a banquet, I can take a fair share.”
Cui Erlang said, “If I were a woman, I would seize every chance to drink a few cups with Brother Shouzhen.”
The second prince was intrigued. “And what do you mean by that?”
Cui Erlang blinked slyly. “Do none of you elder brothers think that once Brother Shouzhen drinks, his looks are even more splendid? I wonder what he would be like drunk—would he be like Ji Shuye of the former dynasty, who when drunk, swayed like jade mountains about to collapse? Ah, just speaking of it, I’m already expectant. Tonight I must surely drink Brother Shouzhen under the table!”
At those words, the second prince and Cui Dalang both gave Pei Xia another look.
Indeed, as Cui Erlang said—tipsy, Pei Shouzhen was far more dazzling than that cold, unapproachable air he usually carried, with an added brilliance touched by the mortal world.
The second prince sipped his wine lightly, his heart tinged with regret.
Such a gentleman already had a wife—pity. Otherwise, if he became his brother-in-law, not only would his sister Shouyang’s wish be fulfilled, he himself would gain a great helper—
This time, in suppressing the Huainan rebellion, he had witnessed Pei Shouzhen’s keen mind and resourcefulness. Now that the court was filled with hidden currents, open and secret struggles, it was precisely the time to gather the worthy and recruit the able.
If he could secure Pei Shouzhen’s full support, why worry about not ascending the supreme seat? Why worry about the empire’s future without virtuous ministers to assist?
This Pei Shouzhen—he must draw him to his side.
Yet in these days, though he had shown more than once his intent to employ him, whenever matters of factional strife in court were raised, Pei Shouzhen would always deflect, as if indifferent, never once saying whether upon returning to court he would lend him aid…
If he did not intend to pledge to him, then he must be sent back to Wenxi countryside—by no means could he be left in Chang’an for that worthless third brother to win over.
While the second prince’s mind turned, the two Cui brothers had already started proposing drinking games with Pei Xia.
They were debating what character to use for the game, when from the next private room suddenly came the sound of a burly man’s furious palm slamming the table: “…Just one heavy rain and it brings floods, the dikes of the Yellow River counties collapsing, the yellow torrent smashing houses, drowning fields, countless He-Luo commoners displaced, fathers selling daughters, husbands selling wives, people eating one another—no different from a living h*ll!”
“Hey, Brother Zhou, keep your voice down,” someone in that room urged.
But the one called Brother Zhou had clearly drunk too much, and could not hold his voice: “All that I saw along the way—how could one word of ‘tragic’ suffice! We are not ignorant children—why such disastrous floods? All because the waterways are blocked, the waterworks neglected! Each year the court spends so much money on the Ministry of Works, building dams, raising dikes, and one rainstorm washes it all clean! Clean as could be!”
“Brother Zhou, you are drunk!”
“I am not drunk! Whether this year brings drought or flood, that is Heaven’s will. But whether drought or flood turns to calamity—you and I both know—it lies in human hands!”
“You must not say such things carelessly! Do not speak of state affairs, do not speak of state affairs!”
The voices in that room quieted somewhat, and in Pei Xia’s room, too, a strange hush fell.
Only the singing girls still strummed the pipa and sang along.
The second prince gripped his wine cup, his face sinking. “Enough, stop singing!”
The singers froze, lowering their eyes helplessly.
This banquet was arranged by Cui Dalang; he quickly signaled the two singers to leave, then looked at the second prince. “Cousin, shall I send someone to seize those two men?”
The second prince frowned sidelong at him. “Seize them for what?”
Cui Dalang said, “They dared to speak recklessly of state affairs. They should be beaten twenty strokes and thrown into prison to sober up.”
The second prince sneered. “What, floods ravage the land, the people wander destitute, eating their own children—this is fact. And yet they are not allowed to speak? Shut up the mouths of these two men—can you shut the mouths of all the people under Heaven?”
Cui Dalang had not expected that this cousin, a prince, would indeed have such a broad heart of concern for the realm, and fell silent, embarrassed.
The second prince downed another cup in puzzlement, when suddenly something struck him. Thoughtful, he glanced at the silent Pei Xia.
If he remembered right, Pei Shouzhen’s wife was the daughter of the former Minister of Works, Shen Hui…
And the stricken He-Luo region was exactly Pei Shouzhen’s native place.
He was just about to offer a few words of comfort when from the next room again came the burly voice: “Tragic, so tragic! So many dead—whether commoners or great clans, before the Huanglong what difference does rank make? When fate ends, all must die…”
The man opposite him asked curiously, “Even the great clans suffered disaster? Do they not always receive the news in advance along with the officials?”
The other replied, “And what of it if they hear the news quickly? When the flood comes and the dikes collapse, what use is it whether your surname is Cui or Pei?”
At the mention of those two surnames, the expressions of the second prince and the rest grew subtly strained in an instant.
For though indeed the Cui and Pei clans were illustrious great families of the Central Plains, were there not also the Lu of Fanyang, the Zheng of Xingyang, the Li of Zhao Commandery… Why pick Cui and Pei in particular? Such ill-omened words!
The two Cui brothers exchanged a glance, then secretly looked toward Pei Xia.
Seeing him sitting calmly, still with that air of composure, they could not help but sigh in admiration—truly worthy of being the Pei clan’s heir; his cultivation of self-restraint was indeed profound.
From next door came more words—
“Several estates of the Cui family were flooded, quite a few collateral branches perished! Oh yes, and that Pei clan—one young madam died, and she was a legitimate, proper wife of the direct line!”
“Is there truly such a thing?”
“Of course there is.”
The voices next door went on, tallying how many among the great families had died in the flood, but inside the room, silence was such that one could hear a pin drop.
The Pei clan of the Central Plains traced its roots to Pei Baicun, flourishing and spreading. By the Liang dynasty it had branched widely into three lines and five houses, and among them, the Wenxi Pei clan of Hedong was the most renowned and illustrious.
That man next door had said a young madam of the Pei clan, and of the direct line, had died.
Whether it was truly coincidence that it referred to the Wenxi Pei, even if it was another collateral branch, in kinship, she would still be some relative of Pei Xia.
At last it was the second prince who broke the stillness: “Shouzhen, do not think too much of it. Surely it is just the drunken nonsense of that man next door.”
Pei Xia lowered his eyes, silent for a moment, then rose and bowed: “Since this matter concerns someone of my clan, I beg Your Highness to permit me to go next door and inquire.”
As heir of the Pei clan, the second prince could hardly stop him in reason or sentiment. After some thought he said, “Would it not be better to summon that man here?”
Pei Xia replied, “No need to disturb Your Highness and the two gentlemen’s pleasure. I shall return once I have asked.”
Since he had spoken so, the second prince could only nod: “Then go.”
Even as the words left his lips, he saw Pei Xia turn to leave.
Though his expression showed no great change, his steps were clearly not as measured and unhurried as usual.
When the carved wooden doors closed, Cui Dalang leaned toward the second prince, his face uneasy, lowering his voice: “Cousin, what that drunkard next door said—could it truly be about Brother Shouzhen’s household?”
The second prince stroked his chin. “It should not be. Of the Hedong Pei line, Shouzhen is the only direct heir. If it were truly the direct young madam, it could only be Shouzhen’s wife. But just recently Shouzhen received a letter from home saying all was well… And if something so grave as his wife’s death had happened, would his family conceal it?”
Hearing this, Cui Dalang and Cui Erlang too felt it unlikely. “Most likely that drunkard was speaking of some other Pei branch’s legitimate wife.”
The second prince nodded, yet he could not help but fall silent, straining his ears toward the sounds next door.
Three rhythmic knocks on the door sounded. After a brief pause came the startled cry of the drunken man: “Who are you?”
“Forgive the intrusion, gentlemen. I was drinking in the adjoining room, and happened to overhear you speak of the floods in Heluo and of Pei clan kinsfolk lost…”
Pei Xia stood at the doorway, bowing toward the two scholar-gowned gentlemen inside. “I am but a son of a collateral branch of the Pei clan, studying in Jinling for many months. I do not know the situation at home and am anxious, so I have rashly come to trouble you both.”
The two scholars, seeing his refined, clear-boned bearing, extraordinary and distinguished, and hearing him name his clan, let down their guard and returned his bow.
“Please sit, sir,” said the rough-voiced scholar, surnamed Zhou.
“My friends are still next door, I shall not sit.”
Pei Xia looked at the Zhou scholar, his tone faint: “Might I ask, the direct-line young madam of the Pei clan you just mentioned—of which branch of the Central Plains Pei is she?”
“Hedong Wenxi Pei.”
The Zhou scholar answered, just about to ask, “And which branch of the Pei clan might you belong to?” But before the words left his mouth, he saw the brows of that fairy-like gentleman at the door knit together, and at once choked back the question.
Surely… it couldn’t be such a coincidence?
After two breaths of silence, Pei Xia spoke again: “Brother, can you be certain it is Wenxi Pei?”
Seeing how the room’s atmosphere had suddenly cooled, the Zhou scholar sobered somewhat and said awkwardly, “I am certain it was that branch. Their family was originally in Wenxi County, later fled from the disaster, all of them going to the former residence of the Luoyang prefect. It seems within two days, white banners were hung at the gates—they said the young madam had unfortunately perished on the road. To gain merit and blessing for her soul, the Pei family even opened porridge sheds outside Luoyang, giving porridge for half a month!”
The reason he remembered it so clearly was that he too had eaten a bowl of Pei family’s porridge.
“All those refugees queuing for porridge praised the Pei family’s great righteousness. Of course, they also sighed that the young madam’s fate was ill-starred—so young, to wither away like fallen jade…”
The Zhou scholar looked at the young gentleman at the door, whose expression was obscure and unreadable, and unconsciously rose. “Sir, are you… are you all right?”
“I am unharmed.”
Pei Xia’s five long fingers gripped the doorframe tightly, his narrow eyes deep: “What you just said—was there a single false word?”
The Zhou scholar was baffled. “What reason would I have to deceive you? If you doubt, just ask any few come from Luoyang, you will know. Besides, I had no enmity with the young madam of the Pei clan—why would I curse her in vain?”
“The young madam of Hedong Pei… of the Shen clan.”
The thin lips slowly spoke those words. Pei Xia fixed his gaze on the scholar. “Was it Shen?”
The Zhou scholar only thought this gentleman exceedingly strange. Though no joy, anger, or grief showed on his face, those black eyes staring straight into him, for no reason made his heart tremble.
“I think that was the surname, yes? Women’s names I did not pay much heed. But her husband—surely sir has heard of him—the famed gentleman of Hedong, Pei Xia, styled Pei Shouzhen.”
Seeing him remain silent, the Zhou scholar was puzzled. “At thirteen he wrote the Qin Palace Rhapsody, which won renown across the world—how could you not know of him?”
Renowned far and wide—Pei Shouzhen.
The corner of Pei Xia’s lips twitched. At this moment, others’ praise was no different from two slaps across his face, ringing in his ears.
“Many thanks, brother, for informing me of news from home.”
Pei Xia lowered his gaze, lifted his sleeve and gave the two inside a bow, then retreated, closing the door behind him.
The two scholars within exchanged looks. They found this handsome young gentleman truly strange.
Could it be that the young madam of the Pei family was some relative of his, or perhaps she held considerable virtue within the clan, that he would inquire so closely?
They could not tell. Shaking their heads, they went back to drinking.
In the corridor, Jinglin, who had been waiting outside, caught sight of his lord’s taciturn and cold demeanor and felt a thump of unease in his heart.
He knew his lord followed the discipline of “seven emotions not shown on the face, six desires not swayed by the heart,” always keeping joy and anger hidden. But after so many years at his side, Jinglin could still distinguish faint traces of his moods.
And right now, his lord’s silence was frightening.
“My lord, what has happened?” Jinglin asked cautiously.
Pei Xia glanced at him, thin lips parting lightly: “The household guards brought three letters from home in total. All three times, he replied that all was well at home. Did he not?”
Jinglin nodded. “Yes!”
Pei Xia gave a faint hum, said no more, and pushed open the door to enter the private chamber.
Inside, he stepped before the Second Prince and bowed deeply: “Your servant’s clan has urgent matters. I beg Your Highness to ask the prefect to show some lenience, open the city gates, and allow your servant to return home first.”
Though he did not state the matter, the Second Prince and the others had earlier strained their ears, nearly pressed to the wall, and had caught the gist.
Now, seeing Pei Xia anxious to return, the Second Prince rose: “Shouzhen, I know that upon hearing this news you are stricken with grief. But if your wife truly has… cough, suffered misfortune, then the funeral would already have been held. Even if you return now, it would be of no avail.”
Pei Xia said nothing, still holding his bow.
The Second Prince frowned: “In two days we board the boat back to Chang’an. Is it so urgent to hasten by just one or two days? Besides, it is already dark, and rain may fall. Even if you disregard your own safety, I absolutely cannot let you risk yourself!”
Pei Xia straightened, his deep black phoenix eyes fixed on the Second Prince. “Your Highness, my wife is the daughter of the disgraced official Shen Hui. Her parents, brothers, and sisters-in-law were all exiled to Lingnan last year. In this world, she has none to rely on but me alone.
“As her husband, even if she truly has met with calamity, I must uncover the truth. Even if she has…”
The word “died” stuck in his throat, heavy and bitter. He lowered his gaze. “She must not go unjust or aggrieved.”
The room fell silent again, long and heavy.
The two Cui gentlemen dared not even breathe too loudly. The Second Prince, brows knotted, gazed quietly at this man who outwardly seemed calm.
At length, the Second Prince lifted a hand to rest on his shoulder. “Wait just a few hours more. At dawn, you may ride out of the city.”
Pei Xia frowned. “Your Highness…”
The Second Prince pressed his shoulder harder, the usual gentleness in his features replaced by solemn authority. “The night road is perilous. Should misfortune befall you, would that not be a grave loss to our Great Liang? Say no more. You will set out at first light!”
Pei Xia met his eyes, remained silent for two breaths, then lowered his head. “Yes.”
That this gathering should end in such bleakness was something the two Cui gentlemen had never anticipated.
They returned in silence to the Cui residence. In the middle of the night, sure enough, the rain began to fall.
Drizzling, pattering, unsettling the heart.
At the first crow of the rooster, the sky was still dim and gray.
Outside the Second Prince’s courtyard, Pei Xia, wearing a bamboo hat and rain cloak, bowed once through the gate, then, with his retainer Jinglin, stepped into the cold morning rain.
Inside, the eunuch Qingrong knocked three times, speaking softly: “Your Highness, Lord Pei has gone.”
The main hall was quiet for a long moment before the Second Prince finally said: “I know. Let him go.”
In any case, dawn was at hand.
