As soon as Su Yan entered the Eastern Palace, a dark shadow came rushing at him with a sharp gust of wind. Startled, he tilted his head just in time to hear a sharp crack behind him, making his teeth ache and causing him to flinch.
The teapot shattered into pieces. Only then did Zhu Helin realize he had nearly caused an accident. He quickly leaped over, “Did it hit you?”
Su Yan shook his head with a smile, “Fortunately, Your Highness was merciful. I narrowly escaped being hit.”
Zhu Helin glared at him for a moment, then suddenly deflated and muttered, “Why are you here?”
“I figured that Your Highness must be tired of those old things, so I thought I’d come to the Eastern Palace to tidy them up and perhaps bring in some new items.”
Zhu Helin pursed his lips, watching as Su Yan directed the servants to pack up the shadow puppets and spinning tops into boxes. Finally, he couldn’t help but say, “Stop it, it’s not because of those things.”
Su Yan found a new teapot, poured a cup of tea, and handed it to him, “What’s wrong?”
Zhu Helin dismissed the nearby attendants and whispered, “I went to talk to Royal Father about you, but instead, I got scolded. Royal Father said I don’t study hard enough, that I spend too much time playing. He also said that from now on, you’re to serve in the Imperial Study in the afternoons and aren’t allowed to accompany me in my nonsense anymore.”
Su Yan sighed softly and said gently, “Your Highness must understand that deep love often comes with strict discipline. The Emperor wants you to focus on your studies, cultivate your character, and become a wise ruler in the future.”
Zhu Helin was silent for a while, then slowly said, “I know. But when you’re not in the Eastern Palace, it feels empty and cold. I can’t help but want to shout out. Staying here too long makes me feel like I’m going crazy.”
Su Yan was taken aback, then suddenly laughed, “What nonsense are you saying? You are the Crown Prince, the future ruler of the nation. There will be many things you have to face in the future, and not everything will go your way. Even the Emperor has many things beyond his control; you just don’t see it.”
Zhu Helin remained silent for a long time before saying softly, “Whether in the Emperor’s household or the common folk’s, everyone has their difficulties.”
“As long as you understand that.” Su Yan drained his cup of tea in one go. “Alright, stop moping around. You’re only thirteen, why are you trying to act so mature?”
“Fourteen.” The Crown Prince emphasized the words.
Su Yan laughed, “Still just a kid.”
The Crown Prince protested, “You’re only three years older than me, so stop pretending to be all wise and experienced.”
“I’m much older than you.” Su Yan’s gaze drifted out the window.
The patch of sky above the palace wall was a brilliant blue, so bright it hurt his eyes. As Su Yan stared at it intently, he felt as if countless colorful fragments were breaking apart from that expanse, scattering away like fleeting memories.
It was only now that he truly understood what it meant to feel as if a lifetime had passed, what it meant to leave the past behind.
***
In the days following, after his lessons, Su Yan would hire a carriage to roam the streets, looking for a suitable place to live.
It turned out that the other day, Emperor Jinglong had casually asked about it and learned that Su Yan was renting a place in the capital. The Emperor had remarked that it wasn’t ideal to be without a permanent residence and had granted him two hundred taels of silver to buy a house.
Su Yan expressed his gratitude, feeling a bit ashamed. Since arriving in the capital to take the imperial exams, he had spent most of his nights in brothels, barely thinking about such matters.
After much searching, he settled on a three-courtyard residence in Huanghua Lane in the Eastern City. While it wasn’t grand, it was peaceful and elegant, with a wall of willows and flourishing peach and apricot trees along the street side, making it very charming. The Jiaofang Department* wasn’t far, and the faint sounds of music and singing drifted in the wind, perfectly suiting his taste.
*official school for music, dance, and theater in China between the Tang dynasty and Ming dynasty, lasting more than 1000 years
He didn’t have much luggage, so he hastily moved into the new place. Seeing that the house had been unoccupied for some time and had collected a fair amount of dead leaves, cobwebs, and bird nests, he knew he would need to hire a few servants to maintain it.
Speaking of “buying,” Su Yan initially had reservations about the term. Being modernly educated, he felt a bit guilty, as if contributing to human trafficking. But then he reminded himself that since he had chosen to live in this world, he had to adapt to its customs, and he gradually accepted the idea.
At that time, buying a regular servant cost about two taels of silver. Su Yan picked two clean and capable-looking boys, hired a cook, and a cleaning maid, and sent them back to tidy up the house while he went to a restaurant for tea.
At the Taibai Building, sitting by the window, he took in the view of the shimmering river and the spring colors of the city. Sipping his yuqian dragon well tea, he sighed contentedly.
Suddenly, he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. A waiter’s voice accompanied them, “Sir, the seat by the window is indeed taken. How about another spot?”
A man’s clear voice responded, “No, no. Didn’t you say there’s only one person? Let me go up and see. If they’re not someone unpleasant, we can share the table.”
Su Yan found the voice familiar. He turned to look at the young man coming up the stairs and recognized him, immediately rising to greet him with a bow, “So it’s the top scholar of the recent examination. My apologies for lacking in manners.”
Cui Jinping had already gotten acquainted with him during the imperial examinations and smiled, “Brother Qinghe, this kind of courtesy is just for outsiders to see. All this about being the top scholar—let’s not let it get in the way of our friendship.”
Su Yan looked at his spirited face and smiled slightly, “Of course, of course. If you don’t mind, let me treat you to some tea, Brother Pingshan.”
Cui Jinping sat down with ease, “Brother Qinghe, you now hold a position of the fifth rank and are favored by the Crown Prince. I hear even the Emperor looks upon you favorably. Such politeness makes me, a mere sixth-ranked Hanlin Academy editor, feel ashamed.”
Su Yan waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t say that. I’ve merely had a stroke of good fortune. On most days, I just grind ink and run errands for the Crown Prince, holding a leisurely post to earn a modest stipend. I can’t compare to Brother Pingshan, who harbors great ambitions, possesses outstanding talent, and now serves in the esteemed Hanlin Academy—a truly noble position. Your future is boundless, with success awaiting at every turn.”
A fleeting look of disdain passed through Cui Jinping’s eyes as he sighed softly. “Though I wish to serve the nation, I’m confined to a humble corner, resigned to being a minor scribe.”
Su Yan poured him another cup of tea. “In my hometown, we have an old saying: ‘If you don’t have the skill to be an official, you’d better have a strong celestial cable.’ It’s a bit biased, but it holds some truth. Brother Pingshan, do you know what this ‘celestial cable’ refers to?”
“Celestial cable…” Cui Jinping repeated the phrase, intrigued.
Su Yan adopted a mysterious air. “Look up.”
Cui Jinping glanced up, bewildered. He saw the large, sturdy beam running across the roof, with numerous rafters joined together, supporting the structure. Suddenly, inspiration struck, and his eyes lit up. “I understand now!”
“Brother Pingshan, you’re as sharp as ever. A few days ago, I was in the Wenhua Hall and saw Wei Shaoqing of the Hanlin Academy transcribing and praising your policy essay. Scholar Wei happens to be a protégé of Li Shangshu of the Ministry of Personnel. If you could earn his recommendation, things might work out.”
Cui Jinping could barely conceal his excitement and cupped his hands in gratitude. “Thank you for the guidance, Brother Qinghe. If this works out, I’ll be sure to repay you.”
Su Yan feigned displeasure. “What repayment? That would cheapen our friendship.”
Cui Jinping burst into hearty laughter. “Brother Qinghe, your straightforwardness perfectly aligns with my temperament. To have such a friend is truly delightful.”
Su Yan smiled faintly, holding his tea.
As Cui Jinping’s laughter subsided, his expression turned disdainful, as if recalling something contemptible. He curled his lips in scorn. “I’ve been wondering how Ye Donglou rose overnight to the rank of Fifth-Grade Langzhong in the Ministry of Revenue. Turns out he became the teacher for Yu Wang Shizi.”
Su Yan was puzzled. “That’s not unreasonable. Why do you look down on it, Brother Pingshan?”
Cui Jinping sneered. “Yu Wang Shizi is barely a year old and can’t even walk steadily. What need does he have for a teacher?”
Su Yan froze. “You’re saying that he and Yu Wang…” His mind flashed back to the day of the grand banquet. Before encountering Yu Wang, he had overheard whispers behind the rockery in the garden—likely Yu Wang and Ye Donglou.
“Everyone knows Yu Wang’s proclivities. It’s said that among the handsome young officials in court, six or seven out of ten have been his ‘close confidants,’” Cui Jinping said coldly.
A shiver ran through Su Yan, and the spot on his hand where Yu Wang had once pinched him felt both numb and prickly. He itched to scrub it clean with soapwort water.
Cui Jinping had no desire to dwell on the matter. Raising his voice, he called out, “Waiter! Bring us some more alcohol and dishes.”
***
They drank until the moon hung over the willow tips, and Su Yan took his leave of Cui Jinping, strolling slowly along Chengqing Street.
As he stepped onto a stone bridge, the night wind blew, stirring the alcohol in his system. He stumbled and grabbed the stone railing, feeling nauseous. He leaned over the bridge’s edge.
The rippling water reflected a crescent moon, sharp and frosty like a silver hook, its reflection swaying distinctly separate from the shadows.
In the dark waters, there were two glimmers of light—not stars, but a pair of sharp, bright eyes!
Su Yan quickly covered his mouth, stumbling back until his back was pressed against the railing, cold sweat pouring out.
A troop of riders came charging by, their yellow kirin uniforms shining brightly in the torchlight. The embroidered spring knives at their waists clanged against their saddles, echoing like metal striking jade.
The leader pulled his reins and demanded sharply, “Scholar, did you see anything suspicious?”
Still leaning against the bridge railing, Su Yan, unable to speak, slowly shook his head.
The leader snorted in displeasure, his whip lifting Su Yan’s face.
In the flickering light, the onlookers saw a fair face as radiant as a pearl under the moon, so dazzling that they dared not stare directly.
The leader stared into his eyes for a long moment before saying, “The Embroidered Uniform Guard is on orders to capture thieves and traitors. If you know something and don’t report it, you will be held accountable.”
Su Yan observed the man’s strong and imposing figure, his fierce demeanor, and the undeniable hostility in his brows—like a blade repeatedly tempered in blood and fire. Uneasy, he instinctively put on the guise of a drunken and drowsy scholar. “This humble one has seen nothing but the beauty of the landscape along the way—no suspicious characters in sight.”
The leader of the Embroidered Uniform Guard dismounted with a sneer and grabbed Su Yan’s jaw. “Didn’t see anything? I suspect you’re deliberately concealing something. If you don’t talk now, once you’re thrown into the imperial prison and the instruments of torture are put to use, everything will come out naturally.”
Su Yan silently scoffed. I’ve heard about the arrogance of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, but this is beyond belief. Fabricating cases this blatantly? No wonder they’re always villains in dramas.
He pried the man’s fingers off and, instead of showing anger, responded with a laugh. “Lord, you truly wrong me. Every word I’ve spoken is the truth. Besides, after a long journey with alcohol dulling my senses, all I want is to sleep—I haven’t the energy to be looking around.”
The Embroidered Uniform Guard leader’s expression softened slightly, but his eyes grew even sharper and more intimidating, a faint smile playing at his lips. “If that’s the case, then come with me to have a bowl of hangover soup.”
The group of Embroidered Uniform Guard riders exchanged malicious glances. One impatiently growled in a coarse voice, “Commander, there’s no need for all this talk. Just tie him up and take him back—everyone’s itching to have their turn.”
Amid the lewd laughter, the commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard reached out to touch Su Yan’s face.
Su Yan calmly intercepted his hand, his grip gentle but firm. Though a faint smile lingered on his lips, his eyes were cold and devoid of warmth. In a soft voice, he said, “I appreciate your kindness, Commander, but such back-and-forth would take up far too much time. I fear I might not make it to the Crown Prince’s morning lessons tomorrow. Should His Majesty find out, he would surely punish me.”
His voice was faint, barely audible to anyone but the other man.
The commander drew back his hand as if stung: “You are…”
Su Yan nodded slightly, his tone sincere: “Commander, guarding the imperial city is a weighty responsibility, and it’s only right to question those who seem suspicious. Tonight was merely a misunderstanding. I was drunk and misspoke; please, don’t take it to heart. Let’s just pretend this never happened.”
The commander’s expression changed slightly, and his usually fierce eyes showed a rare mix of emotions, including a hint of gratitude. He clasped his hands together, lowered his voice, and said, “Thank you.”
Su Yan smiled faintly.
The commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard mounted his horse and shouted, “Move out!”
The squad of guards, unaware of what had transpired, eyed each other in confusion. One of them, reluctant, looked at the commander for answers, only to be whipped fiercely across the back. No one dared ask further questions, and soon the group disappeared in a cloud of dust.
Su Yan exhaled a long breath and muttered with a wry smile, “Looks like I need to toughen up my face until it’s thick and impervious. Not sure if that’s a good thing or not.”
He rubbed his still-throbbing temples and began to walk off the bridge. Suddenly, he felt as though he had forgotten something. Turning back, he looked towards the deep shadow under the bridge arch, but it was pitch black with no sign of light.
After hesitating for a moment, he took off his outer robe and waded into the cold river, dragging a person, half-carrying, half-pulling them to the shore.
The person was dressed in tight clothes, face covered in a black cloth, their limbs stiff and cold, eyes shut as though unconscious.
Su Yan pulled off the mask and saw a face covered in blood, barely distinguishable with pale lips like those of a corpse. He checked for breathing and felt a faint, thread-like pulse. Hurriedly, he opened the cold, wet clothing and began pressing on the man’s chest.
The man suddenly convulsed like a dying fish, clasping Su Yan’s wrist with his fingers and glaring at him with eyes sharp as ice. A sword pressed against Su Yan’s shoulder.
Su Yan easily freed himself from the weakened grip, smirked, and said, “I risked getting harassed by bullies to save you, and you repay me with a sword? Go ahead, waste all your strength and die. I’ll just toss you back into the river to feed the turtles.”
Rage flickered in the man’s barely open eyes, but his arm fell limp as he truly lost consciousness.
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